Another baby shower! Mr. b was such a perfect Guest of Honor. He squealed with delight at all the gifts and constantly announced how embarassed he was with all of the attention, while grabbing for the next present to unwrap. I did not take enough pictures. We got a really good mix of fun and practical gifts. We totally scored on the funky onesie front: Darth Vader "Who's Your Daddy", The Cure "Boys Don't Cry", and a series of homemade iron-ons featuring the Ghostbusters and various Kirks (like Captain and Hammet).

Earlier in the weekend we scored a hand-me-down changing table. Now we really have no choice but to remove the guest bed. It's a nursery and there's no way around it. We need to set up all the baby furniture and sort through all of our loot. We need to take serious stock of what we're still missing on the Big Ticket item front. Granted there's still one more shower in our future but I think it'll be good to begin an inventory. Like, I know we're going to need more bottles and feeding equipment (and a dishwasher) and I have to find out if my health insurance will cover a breast pump. And we still don't even have a line on a stroller--but we've got a couple of promised basinets and car seats so we should be good there.

I just keep trying to focus on the practical issues. When I focus on child birth I freak out. I read the section on the most common methods of pain reduction in use today and that sounded just as bad as delivery itself. I was in tears.

I have the vertical belly line now. Both Mr. b and I just noticed it within the past couple of days.

Having seen Revenge of the Sith twice now I can honestly say it's better than Empire.

It's funny, both Mr. b and I ended up nitpicking the pregnancy. (Spoiler warning for hermits that have been living out on the edge of the Dune Sea.) We laughed at the size of Padme's belly. What kind of lame ass prenatal care did she have on Coruscant that she didn't know she was carrying twins? Those babies were pretty darn big for twins that came early. And they didn't have gross belly buttons. How come they made it look like a vaginal birth when the medical droid said they'd have to operate to save the babies? Any other time in our lives and we'd never think twice about that stuff.

I must admit, it was a little difficult to hear the constant talk about dying in child birth.

Week 30: RotS Day Eve

I always thought my mom was full of shit when you'd ask her what she wanted for her birthday or Christmas or whatever. She'd say there was nothing she wanted and then mention some boring domesticity that she "needed". Or just request a chore get done or that we simply all get together as a family for dinner or something equally hokey. And yet, when Mr. b asked what I want for my upcoming 30th birthday, I couldn't think of anything. I don't want any clothes because I'm still preggers. I don't want any Star Wars merch because I already have the jigsaw puzzles and we'll just buy action figures as we desire them. At least I resisted saying out loud that I want to get all new towels for the upstairs bathroom. That would have been a definite fall into Mother Mentality. I guess there was no reason for me to feel like a phoney when I got Mother's Day well-wishes. Hey, at least I spent my card cash on Babylon 5 DVDs.

Mr. b made his first trip to the grocery store for weird food last night. Previously, I haven't had any real, honest-to-goodness cravings. I'm highly suggestible though. Like the past week I've had to have KFC, Subway, and Taco Bell. All because I saw ads and they worked on me. I'll smell or see someone's lunch at work and then that's what I'll want. It kind of makes planning meals easy. I just have to remember what's available in the cupboard and then think about that all day and by the time I get home, that's what I want!

But yesterday I was miserable. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I really thought it was just because of getting a grand total of 4 and a half hours of sleep the night before. (This "increased sleeplessness" third trimester side effect sucks.) Mr. b picked me up from work and we went for Mexican and it was awesome. But later that night I started feeling strange. It wasn't regular heartburn or more than the normal tightness and inability to get comfortable. I felt hot and weak. About 8:30 I figured it out: I needed iron.

I was told to go off my iron pills when I started this whole pregnancy project. And I haven't had a problem. But I do remember the preggo-lit mentioning that anemia can be an issue in the third trimester. And it seems as though it may be for me. I hadn't felt that low iron feeling in so long, no wonder it took me all night to identify it. Mr. b went to the store and got me some spinach and broccoli and I ate it raw while sitting in bed watching TV. I felt so much better.

Wow. I just got done with yet another surprise shower. This time it was my own department at work! I was completely clueless. One of the ladies had a crockpot full of meatballs under her desk and I could smell the deliciousness all morning and that still didn't give it away. Hell, when I walked in to the conference room for the "meeting" I sat down without noticing the stacks of presents--or the frickin' huge ass cake with my NAME on it! You'd think I would suspect this kind of activity since this is a gift harvest time of life but nope. I'm retarded.

I got so much good stuff I had to call Mr. b to come and take it all. I would never be able to get it all home on the bus. Clothes and blankets and nursery decorations and safety and feeding and grooming and I can't even think of it all. And lots of Target gift card cash. I'm so overwhelmed.

Week 29

I feel a bit better about my childbirth fears. I just spoke with my work friend, the Russian, about it. I miss working next to her. We always got along so very well and read all the same books.

She asked if we had figured out daycare yet and I said that we haven't even signed up for the childbirth class yet. She thought we needn't bother but I pointed out that I definitely need to have my fears assuaged. So we embarked on a very frank discussion about giving birth. I figured out that it's not the labor pains that I'm afraid of. I've dealt with major pain several times before in my life. And I've promised myself that I will stop being lazy and get back into doing yoga to build my endurance and help me to zen out.

It's the birthing itself that freaks me out. I know too much about how it affects your skeleton and you get all torn up and it's terrifying. But it's also the short part. The Russian pointed out that at that point, I will want nothing more than to push him out. And he will want nothing more than to be pushed out. (Unless he's a matricidal maniac like Stewie!) It'll be unpleasant but ultimately, I won't notice or care. And the afterbirth is really like an afterthought. There are no bones so I'll just be told to push one more time while they're busy doing the infant cleaning and whatnot, they'll examine the placenta, see what repairs I need, and that's it.

She also told me to just plan on going for the drugs, whether I get an epidural or something else or nothing at all. It'll help me to stay calm. Hysterics don't help anything. If I'm in the mindset that I'm getting drugs going in, then I won't have to freak out. She pointed out that the first child is the worst because it's a complete unknown. She had an epidural for her first, a shot of something that wore off by the time she was fully dilated for her second, and nothing for her third. I know my mom had nothing for all three of us. And she's little!

It was also good to get reminded of one important fact: I live in the 21st century in the most powerful country in the world. Sometimes you need a Muscovite to point out the obvious.

I had a lesser medical milestone this morning: the glucose tolerance test. They had me drink 10 ounces of this sugared up beverage that tasted like a combination of Gatorade and Orange Drink, but not as good as either on their own. Then after an hour I gave them a pee sample and some blood. I suppose they'll let me know if I have gestational diabetes. Since I now start going to the doctor every 2 weeks instead of every 4 I'm just not that concerned.

Doc continues to be totally chill about this pregnancy. We bonded over both being Geminis that seem to always be surrounded by another particular star sign; in her case Leo, in mine Leo and Virgo.

I realized that she's doing the math for my net weight gain differently than I was doing. When I went in for the first official Ob appointment, I had already gained 5 pounds. Which I then lost over the course of the first trimester. So I've been calculating based on my normal weight. But when Doc added in the 9 pounds that I've gained over the past month she said that I'm only up to 19 total. Because she was starting from the other point. People at work say that it doesn't look like I've gained anything significant because I'm not showing anywhere besides my protruding belly. I do think my chin has gotten a bit rounder. Not like Grayza in Peacekeeper Wars or anything. Just compared to my normally very pointy chin.

I guess I've had my first Mother's Day. It felt kind of like I was cheating. Hotel and restaurant people would ask if I was a mother and I would point to my stomach and say something like, "Not yet!" But they all always agreed that preggos count. Auntie G and my MIL even sent me cards! And dear Mr. b had a suite of cards prepared for me: one from him, one from Child Person, and one from Squeakers Squirrel. He had hid them in my bag so I discovered them while I was packing up before we checked out of the hotel room. I was so overcome that I shouted, "I love you!" down to him in the parking lot from our balconey.

But I honestly don't know that I feel like a mother yet. I mean, clearly I'm growing a human being inside me. I can feel him squirming about while I type. But I haven't met him yet.

One of our stops during our mini-break this weekend was a farmer's market/craft festival in Madison, WI. So, hippies everywhere. As you'd expect in Madison. One of the booths had tiny t-shirts decorated with hand-sewn peace signs. Since Mr. b and I spent a large part of the 90s as flower-empowered stoners, and still have plenty of friends of the peace-lovin' persuasion, we figured we would shell out for the over-priced souvenir as a present for the baby child. The earth mother was manning the booth with her young son and baby daddy. She asked if we were going to "use the midwives". Mr. b laughed for the rest of the weekend at my response, "No. We're not from here." We both got the feeling that it was bad form just to already know the sex of the baby! Ahhh, Wisconsin hippies. You never change.

Whatever it is that makes your nails and hair grow extra fast while preggers seems to work on places besides your head. I swear I am shaving my armpits twice as often as I normally do. I had to trim my frickin' pubes after Mr. b pointed out how ridiculously long they had become. (It's not like I can even see down there anymore thanks to my belly.) And yet my legs have never been smoother since I stopped shaving them back in 8th or 9th grade. Granted I'm blessed with barely-there, very blonde, Scando body hair to begin with....

While searching for a new razor for my pits last night I discovered a long forgotten box of tampons. I had often heard from women that they don't really get to enjoy not being on the rag because they're so busy being pregnant. And it's true!

Week 28

Wow I feel better today. It's amazing what a little husband-provided TLC, some syndicated sitcoms on TBS, and an early bedtime can to do improve life. I'm wearing a cute-as-hell outfit (Mr. b was right about that skirt!) with my tall London boots and feel almost perky. Child Person has definitely been active this morning, too.

We finished off our registry assignment this weekend with a trip down to the giant Babies R Us. I'm very glad that we didn't do that place first. Our little bottle aisle scare in Target would have been mild in comparison. Mr. b found a pillow shaped like a giant apostrophe for me. I think it's definitely helped my sleeping comfort.

We realized the reason for some of our discombobulation during these registration sessions. We just don't fit in with that world. There is no giant chain store for hipster babies. We drive out to freeway laden suburbia and immediately look scummy with our piercings and stubble and boots and mod clothes in comparison with the scrubbed fresh young couples with their mothers-in-law taking over their preparations. Frankly, I wouldn't even want a Martha Stewart inspired nursery collection. I'm looking forward to putting up a shelf for all of our Kirk action figures.

I am so fuckin' unstable right now. Yesterday I was unbearably grouchy all day. I was warned by womba that my temper is only going to grow shorter as I become more and more physically uncomfortable. I don't know if he's psychic or if it's just a coincedence but I had a total middle-of-the-night freak-out last night. I've been experiencing a strange sort of insomnia off-and-on for a while now. I can fall asleep just fine initially but then when I get up to pee, I often can't fall back to sleep. I end up spending sometimes hours tossing and turning before managing to get another hour or two before my alarm goes off. Last night Mr. b was still up drinking when I woke up. I freaked out on him but really, it's more than just being married to an alcoholic. There's just Too Much. I still think about poor little Tron. My father-in-law is in prison. My job is driving me nuts. We're being suckered into new software best described by quoting Norm McDonald, "Happy birthday Jesus. I hope you like crap!" I'm sick and tired of being pregnant. No one wants to talk about anything except my pregnancy. I'm terrified of childbirth. We have so much left to get done before baby time. I slept for most of last weekend and I really thought I was feeling better. But it was temporary. I'm becoming more and more uncomfortable while simply sitting down. My belly is always stretching one way or another. I'm too tired and lazy to do yoga to try to relieve the pressure. I get winded just going on short walks because my lungs are being so cramped by internal organs. And I still have three months left. I just don't know how I'm going to make it. I'm sitting here crying at work. That's certainly not going to help matters at all. Doesn't anyone have a magic wand?

Merch time is finally here! We had to buy the pregnant Amidala. I mean, it's a pregnant action figure!

Last night we did our baby registry at Target. The girls at Mr. b's cafe are throwing him his own baby shower next month. That's so sweet! And he may very well be the only guy on the planet that would want his own shower. We went a little nuts on the RotS merch. First of all, why the hell aren't there any Yoda or C3PO onesies? There was nothing for babies. Luckily, there were a few little boy t-shirts to scan in. And we went ape in the toy section. I love those Playskool action figures for toddlers with the giant feet. And of course Child Person will need to have a copy of the Ewoks and Droids cartoons on DVD. (The TOS season box sets are important nursing equipment, too dammit. We'll need to watch something during midnight feedings!) We also found some good RotS coloring books and readers over by the "Crawlers" book section. I more accurately re-named that the "Chewers" section.

We did kind of freak out while doing the legitimate baby stuff. We were totally unprepared for the multitude of bottle brands, types, sizes. I imagine that babies make their own decisions about what they prefer there. I did have Auntie G take a look at our list and make sure we weren't missing anything obvious. We got her stamp of approval! Now we just have to wait until after the gift harvest to find out what we need to buy ourselves.

Week 27

I have noticed a pattern for at least some of my heartburn triggers. It seems that when I get morning heartburn it's when I have something particularly sweet early in the day. I typically eat your healthy grown-up type cereals so it really only comes into play if I "need" a donut. Or like this morning when I was in a rush and so had a fruity sweet granola bar at the bus stop. Thank god for my desk Rolaids! The other time is when I go to bed. And that doesn't seem to reflect if I had a late snack or not but rather the simple act of laying down. And that's why the bottle of Rolaids resides on the bedside table instead of in the medicine cabinet.

Today is apparently Bring Your Child to Work Day. A couple of my smart-ass co-workers have been teasing me and asking if I remembered to bring my son!

My belly button still hasn't popped out. But it's stretching. I feel it mostly in the scar tissue at the top. That's where my belly button ring was pushed out 12 years ago. My sister claims she kept her piercing through 2 pregnancies. Then again, hers was done professionally wheras I did mine myself with a safety pin out of boredom in my dorm room.

I am so freaking exhausted. I can't tell if it's because of the gloomy April weather or because of coming into the third trimester. I've noticed that I get winded really quickly when I take my parents' dog for a walk. And I'm tired during the day. But unlike at the beginning when I could take a monster nap and then still sleep for 10 more hours at night, I'm starting to sleep like an old man. I can't get more than 8 hours even if I try. And it's very annoying because I love to sleep. This is my last chance dammit before baby time!

Those wacky kids Diablo and Jon have done it again! They're the best. Last week I came home to a package containing a specially ordered silk screened toddler t-shirt. It says, "KHAAAAAAAN!" And since I already got one in Daddy size for Mr. b, now they can match some more. It's too bad all this cute-as-hell stuff is going to be covered in puke seconds after it's on Child Person. Just as long as we can keep it all clean enough for pictures....

I've realized I have no grasp of my own personal sense of style any more. I've been wearing hand-me-downs for too long. I went through a box from my SIL on Friday. There were definitely some items that were far too preppy for my taste, and thankfully they didn't really fit so I don't have to feel bad about rejecting them. And really, it was incredibly thoughtful of her to send them up from Texas. Mr. b's brother said that she's sending up another box soon, too. I've been putting aside all the too small/not-quite-right/&c. items to bring to my other SIL. She and my brother are expecting, too! Due December 1st.

Anyway, back to fashion. So yesterday Mr. b and his brother and I were at Target, ostensibly so BIL could buy "souvenirs" to bring home to his kids. We went by the maternity clothes section and I was cajoled into trying some things on. I'm wearing the hippie-chick dashiki lookin' shirt I picked out. But I also got this flouncy, khaki, pink and white flower printed, knee-length, silk skirt. Mr. b swears it's adorable but I can't tell. And that's when it became apparent to me that I have totally lost touch with my own fashion sense. Lord knows what I'm going to do when I have to go back to wearing normal clothes. Everything is packed away in boxes right now.

Week 26

Well, Child Person is definitely back from his little vacation. He's been rather quiet the past few days. I felt very slight movement, but only enough to keep me from starting to worry. I did remind myself that humans go through lazy periods. I know I certainly like to have phases where I don't do much more than eat and watch TV or read. But today, he's back in action and moving about a whole helluva lot.

It's amazing how quickly I've gotten used to the fetal movement. It was one of the things that freaked me out most when I thought about being pregnant. As an abstract concept, I just didn't know how I would fare with all this alien activity in my abdomen. And now it's weirder to not have it going on.

I definitely understand how lack of fetal movement is the main contributor to post-partum depression. Or at least it seems to be anecdotally. (Ladies have been very frank with me when I ask my pregnancy questions. And I seem to do better with primary sources than secondary ones like preggo-lit. Must be leftover archaeologist mentality.) A co-worker and Auntie G have both mentioned that the sadness came from physically not being pregnant anymore. I had always assumed it would be entirely hormonal but that kind of a psychological aspect makes a lot of sense to me already. You were entirely and completely responsible for growing a human and suddenly that is taken away. It's got to be quite the shock to the system.

I'm planning on being incredibly insane after giving birth. It just seems safer to assume the worst. Especially since I know how my emotional half likes to take over completely when given the chance. Ah the joys of being a Gemini.

Oh man. One of his bank ladies gave Mr. b the motherload of unsolicited preggo-myths yesterday. According to Bank Lady, sugar makes your baby bigger. The average size of a US born baby is 8 pounds but the average size of a Minnesota born baby is 9 pounds. (Cuz we're all Scandos?) The bigger the baby, the sooner it'll sleep through the night. Babies start to sleep though the night at 9 pounds.

Hilarious. I never get enough of this crap.

Wow this morning ended up being rough. I think it was just a combination of a lot of variables but I ended up on the edge of fainting. Factors involved may have been the humidity from the overnight thunderstorms, falling asleep on the bus, power being out in the building. I took the stairs up one flight and the elevators were working there so I didn't have to go the whole 6 floors. But I started feeling dizzy and seeing spots in the elevator and seriously didn't know if I could stay upright. I made it out and sat in the nearest chair for a little while before making my way to my desk. Most of the power was still out in the building so there was no air conditioning and the water/ice dispenser wasn't working. A very kind co-worker went over to the cafeteria and bought me a bottle of water. I felt discombobulated for the rest of the morning, regardless of how much water I've been drinking and how many snacks I've had. It's kind of like the low iron feeling of having my life force sucked out of me. But I can't figure out what it is my body is craving. I have most of my energy back now and only the slightest of headaches to remind me. It was all very odd. I've always been hyper sensitive to humidity. Being pregnant this summer should be, ahem, interesting.

I shouldn't have said anything. I totally jinxed myself. My hip fuckin' hurts like a bastard today. I was doing a little bit of gardening last night, just cleaning up one of the beds of hostas. I was only out there for an hour and a half. But afterwards I felt like I had been doing intense yoga for at least twice that long. I was exhausted and incredibly sore. Crouching and kneeling and bending and reaching and digging are all much more difficult activities when you've got an enlarged belly to navigate around. I find it odd that my hips took most of the pressure.

The goofy guru lady in the prenatal yoga tape talks about how you can become the most physically flexible in your life when you are pregnant. It's all due to what she calls "Relaxin". I have no idea if that's the actual name for the hormone that loosens all your joints to prepare your pelvis for the big event. When I first learned about that little bonus feature of pregnancy back in college I was double freaked out. (I learned all sorts of scary things in my many Anthro classes. Like you can not only tell a male skeleton from a female based on the pelvis, you can also make a very accurate guess on how many children she bore based on the scarring on her pelvis. Grand.) I thought for sure the hereditory loose shoulder that has caused both my dad and my brother to get a pin installed to prevent more dislocations would haunt me. But so far I honestly haven't noticed any "relaxin" effect. Not really any increase in my normal stretching range. And my hip had actually bothered me less than usual. Until now.

Week 25

I've gained another 8 pounds. It was pretty funny watching Doc when she was looking at my chart. First she was concerned that I gained so much in one month. Then you could see her doing math (7+8=a measely 15 pounds total). She changed her mind almost mid-comment and decided that I could really stand to gain even more. I'm not eating any less than I was. In fact I'm trying to not fill up on salads--but I like salads! I try to eat as much as I can when I'm at dinner but then I get all full of chow and baby. Eh. I'm not really concerned about it. Doc sure as hell isn't. Everything else is going along just fine.

She mentioned that we only have one more month before the appointments step up to every two weeks. Yikes! Already? Doc asked if I was scared. Hell yeah I'm scared! Most people think I'm scared of the child raising part. Nope. Just the child bearing part. I did remember to ask about my old hip injury. After describing it to her (danceline when I was 14, pulled the hamstring and groin muscles, also tore the tendons and ligaments, some of which pulled out chunks of bone, which never were set so I have lots of scar tissue and minimized flexibility) she figured that it probably wouldn't be a problem. I had been worried about it but figured I was being paranoid because it's on the outside of my pelvis, not inside. Doc did say that oftentimes with hip stuff you don't know that it's going to be a problem until it is. Goody. The only thing that scares me more than child birth is surgery. And you have to be awake during a C-section.

Just in time. My lovely co-worker gave me a huge bin of maternity clothes. I didn't think we were the same size but everything fit well enough. Even the pants! Sure, they're too short but I'm just going to have to ignore that for now. "Beggars can't be choosers." Mr. b scolded me for saying that in regards to all these hand-me-downs. He said that there are some things that he wouldn't let me out of the house in if I wasn't pregnant and some that I shouldn't be wearing even though I am pregnant. He got all sad about "doing this" to me when he saw what I have to wear now! Sweet Hunny. I agree, some of the stuff is pretty darn teacher-y.

I got my first dose of hot flash on Sunday. We went up north to properly bury Tron (January. Minnesota. Frozen ground.) and afterwards were walking my parents' land with the dog. I only lasted about 20 or 30 minutes before I had to go back to the house. I wasn't really tired but it was so damn humid. But when we got inside I didn't feel any better! My dad came across me propped in front of a breeze-catching open window, holding a cold soda can to my forehead. "Gee, you must be pregnant!" Ha ha Dad.

One of the manifestations of my hormonally induced hyper-emotionality is the need to have Mr. b sleep with me at night. I get all bent out of shape if he's staying up later than me for legitimate reasons or just to drink. I really freak out on him if he's still up when I wake up for my regular middle-of-the-night pee. I know it's not fair. I know I can't even really cuddle with him since I have to have a damn pillow crammed between my legs and under my belly. But I need him there with me. One of our fellow visitors at the penitentiary last Thursday was a girl who (I overheard her say) was 3 weeks away from her due date. She was huge. And she was obviously visiting her significant other. There is no way I could handle going through this without Mr. b by my side. I just keep thinking about that girl and what it must be like knowing that she'll have to deliver on her own. Who knows how long she'll have to raise their child on her own. I am so lucky to have a husband who gives a damn, who is excited about being a father, who wants to know as much as possible every step of the way.

Week 24

Mr. b figured out why Child Person was so active yesterday. He was rockin' out to Double Platinum, head bangin' and doing the Gene Simmons devil fingers. All because he got a surprise present in the mail from Jon: the KISS teddy bear onesie!! Awesome!! Man, how'd we end up with such kick ass friends? Mr. b and I even had our eye on that one many months ago, back when we first found out I was up the spout. But we decided it might be bad luck to buy something for the baby before we had even heard the heartbeat. Now I have a hankering to listen to "Hard Luck Woman". God I love that song.

I think I need another pair of maternity pants. I thought I could squeak by with the one pair and the jeans and just keep wearing my regular low-riders. And while they still fit me just fine when I'm standing, they just aren't roomy enough when I'm sitting. The low cut 'ternity pants have elastic in the waist at the back, so that makes them comfortable when sitting down. These? Let's just say I'm currently sitting at my desk with my pants unsnapped and unzipped. I have to remember to at least resnap them whenever I stand up. Thankfully 'ternity shirts are long and so hide this kind of maneuver.

Child Person's activities continue to increase. I'm trying to track it and see if he has any sort of pattern. There doesn't seem to be any real regularity during the day. But he's always moving about when I get up for my middle-of-the-night pee. So far it hasn't been intense enough to keep me awake when I go back to bed. I have Growing Stomach to thank for that. I just can't seem to get comfortable. My stomach stretches all weird and then my hip or ear (!) hurts when I lay on one side for too long. I've been keeping a pillow between my legs and sort of tucked under my belly and that helps a bit. But I wake up when I need to roll over and have to manually move the damn pillow. Auntie G said I should try one of those full body pillows. I'll have to seek one out. Even if I don't like it I can give it to Mr. b. He is a total pillow spooner so it wouldn't go to waste.

Update on various pop cultural impressions. (I'm still encountering incidences of pregitude with alarming regularity.)

I recently read The Know It All. It seemed to my pregnancy hormoned brain that the B (or C) story about the author and his wife trying to conceive was almost more important than his titular quest to actually read the damn encyclopedia. I was inordinately happy for them when they succeeded. Incidentally, it was a great book; read like a blog.

During a viewing of The Incredibles I found myself spending a little too much time thinking about Elastigirl. Specifically, how being elastic would affect her three pregnancies. And if her fetuses would be elastic while in the womb. Really, it was like Jason Lee's character in Mallrats obsessing over superhero genitalia.

While watching the last few episodes of Farscape via Netflix I kept feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole Aeryn-being tortured-for-her-fetus'-knowledge story arc. The imagery during her incarceration was harsh, yes, but I have to wonder if it would have affected me the same way had I not also been pregnant at the time.

During the last half of this season of Stargate SG-1 I spent almost as much time looking for evidence of Amanda Tapping's pregnancy as I did paying attention to the storyline. At first it was just an increase in the size of her rack. But those last few episodes, no matter what they had Sam wearing, it was plain there was a pregnancy under there. She never did get the rounded face like Rebecca Riggs did while playing Grayza in Peacekeeper Wars. I wonder how Amanda's absence for maternity leave will be explained in season 9.

Oh and Caprica!Boomer is pregnant. It'll be interesting to see how that one develops.

Week 23

Well, thanks to thinga sending me links to awesome outfits, I now have a wish list set up at Hot Topic as well. I'm not really sure what the protocol for clothes is. Do you just pick the designs you like and not worry about specifying sizes? That's what I did. I guess if you get something that's too big you just wait until it fits!

Mr. b has finally started to feel Child Person moving around inside me. He says it feels really tiny, like a kitten paw-pawing through something like a blanket. Feels a whole lot more intense from the inside! I've happened to have my hands on my stomach and feel him a couple of times when they were really big kicks. I compared it to the Borg assimilation chairs in the Vegas ride. I imagine that'll only increase as he gets bigger and more active. And then it'll totally be like the second Picard fake out dream when he has the implant burst out of his cheek when we can actually *see* Child Person moving about in there.

Diablo Cody is the frickin' coolest "Porn Star" of all time. Seriously. There was a mysterious package at our house yesterday. What did it turn out to be? Teeny tiny checkered Vans for Child Person! Wicked awesome. That was so utterly sweet and unexpected of her. And now C.P. can match his daddy! (And Jeff Spicoli and Charlie from Lost.) They're so cute we had to put them on the shelf out in the living room instead of just stashing them with the rest of our collected baby loot in the nursery. Ladies at work are already clamoring for me to bring them in so they can see the cute in person. We are so going to be jamming them onto the poor little guy's feet long before he actually fits them.

I finally started an online registry. I'll do a better one at Target or someplace when it gets closer to Auntie G's big fancy baby shower. So many folks have asked if I have one that I figured I shouldn't wait any longer and just get *something* going.

Way back in January I was getting these cramps that turned out to be stomach acid. Before I had called Doc I went through the indexes of all the preggo-lit and read everything about all the different kinds of cramps possible during pregnancy. The one I found most odd was post-orgasm cramping. So what happened to me last week? That's right. The post-orgasm cramp. I sure hope it doesn't become a regular visitor. Since then I've also had an uncomfortable tightness in my muscles right at the leg/torso bend. Not the inner thigh so I don't think it's the groin muscle proper and not the outer thigh either. Right on top. Auntie G said she was plagued by that, too.

I've decided that I'm "carrying low". I have a very long waist so I suppose not everyone's uterus has geographical options. But whenever I feel Child Person moving about he's always way at the bottom, right above my pubic bone. I rarely feel any movement even as high as my belly button. Maybe that's why it hasn't popped out yet?

I just had my first baby shower! I was totally surprised. I thought I was just meeting some of the choir ladies for lunch. After all, some of us sopranos promised each other we would stay in touch during the off season this time. But when I got there they had presents! And cupcakes! I now have a cute little teddy bear rattle, blue jammies, and blue blankie, plus a nice baby photo album with a quilted Bug on the cover (Otto Rodriguez, our Jetta, will be glad we're keepin' it in the VW family). Mr. b will be most excited about that one I think. Every time we're in Target these days he asks about getting a scrapbook. I guess we'll put the ultrasound photos and the test results in it for now.

I find that as I'm getting further and further along and closer to the reality of having a child, I'm having a more difficult time thinking of myself as a mom. I was looking in my closet last night, trying to make room for the maternity shirts that have made it into rotation. I was overcome by a strong urge to get rid of everything pre-pregnancy. It was like I was telling myself that moms aren't supposed to dress like that. Which of course is bullshit. Every time Mr. b worries that he doesn't look like a dad I remind him that "dads look like all kinds of things." Apparently I need to remind myself that moms do, too.

Week 22

The official ultrasound results arrived in the mail yesterday: "normal". That's it. One word. I chuckled and then called Mr. b with the good news. I need to call my brother with the other news that came with it. My due date has been bumped up 3 days to July 24. My brother's birthday is the 26th and he is just desperate that his nephew should share. Maybe he has grandiose Bilbo and Frodo joint party plans. No matter what, they'll be close together. Mr. b is convinced that Child Person will definitely arrive on his uncle's birthday. There is familial precedent already. My mom's oldest brother did not get a bike on his 8th birthday, he got a baby sister--my mom! (Then 27 years later Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart recorded their excellent Bongo Fury live in Austin, TX. Exactly 10 days later I was born.)

I think I'm entering the farty phase of pregnancy. I just keep thinking of that scene where Miranda totally smoked Carrie out of the shoe store.

I finally rode my exercise bike again last night. (While watching 24; is Dina really dead? NOOO!!!) I was particularly lazy last week and got out of the habit of riding while watching my TV addictions. (Gonna watch American Idol anyway, might as well do something productive during it.) I feel so much better when I'm active. I don't just mean when I'm preggasaurus either. In general. I need to obey Olivia Newton John and get physical.

I have kind of been viewing this whole pregnancy thing as marathon training. Last summer I sort of kind of did regular sit-ups to help prepare my abs for the since-I-was-planning-to-go-off-the-pill-soon inevitability. Getting my bike stolen last July did nothing to help me continue riding to work but I still went on regular walks. I figured that if I was going to take a stab at "getting in to shape", pre-knocking up was the time to do it. Physical fitness helps make your pregnancy easier, helps make the birth easier, helps make your post partum recovery easier. It seems that most women think that they have to make the big push to firm up and trim down before they get married. Why? He obviously already loves you. You're just being vain. And besides, those women are probably the same ones that apply massive import to still fitting into their wedding dress years later. Wouldn't you have worse odds of it fitting if you were abnormally thin at the time?

So even though I could have done better gym-related prep, now I need to keep up whatever activity I can while currently gravid. I find that I'm already incorporating the best (for me) prenatal yoga moves into my regular personal dance/karate/yoga discipline. Riding a stationary bike is something I can do no matter how big my stomach gets. I don't have to worry about balance but I still get some aerobic action. And thank god spring is finally starting to show itself so I can go for more walks.

We've got the Star Wars posters up. We also framed a nice schematic of the NCC-1701 (no bloody A, B...) and it looks awesome on the wall above the crib. Now we just need to spread the word to friends and family that we're going with a "celestial theme" for the nursery. Hopefully that way we'll end up with cartoon rockets and smiley faced comets. Instead of teddy bears playing sports.

While on our way to buy the frames on Saturday we ended up hitting the biggest pot hole in the Midwest. And Child Person jumped! I thought it was kind of funny and just harassed Mr. b for his poor driving and then forgot about it. But the next day I was informed that Mr. b did some preggo-lit research. It seems that this is about the time in fetal development when the baby gets the "startle reflex". Huh. I never would have guessed you get that while still in the womb. Now I'm waiting for the poor little guy to start freaking out the next time Mr. b shouts at him through my stomach, "Hey! Child Person! Wake up!" But I suppose it also explains why there has been regular movement the past week or so when I first get to work. That bus ride is pretty bumpy.

Well then. There's a crib in the blue room now. It's funny that we painted the guest room blue when we moved in. Just thought it was a nice color. Last weekend Mr. b drove out to SoDak to pick up a load of hand-me-down baby furniture--including the crib that his parents had set up in their spare room for when they were on babysitting-the-grandbabies duty. We still have to fully rearrange the room. I want to hang those Star Wars posters. Obviously the queen size bed will have to leave, but it's fine pushed up against the corner for now. The room had been the catch all place for the baby stuff already. But somehow piles of maternity clothes, preggo-lit, toys, and baby clothes didn't seem *that* real yet. But a crib. That's major. We put Squeakers Squirrel in it so she could get used to the smell of the new furniture and whatnot. Mr. b was getting all choked up when he put in the two little stuffed animals he personally picked out for his son. It was very sweet.

We've been occasionally freaking ourselves out about just how long it's been already. I mentioned something about December and Mr. b gasped. And yet, that's how long we've known. I peed on the stick on the 5th or 6th. Then I gasped when he pointed out that we've been living in our new house pregnant for longer than we lived in it not pregnant. At the doctor's office we were both amazed at how much less scary it is now than that first confirmation appointment. I pointed out that back then, I hadn't ever been pregnant before. It was a complete unknown. Now I've got several months of being pregnant practice behind me. Experience blah blah perspective-cakes.

Week 21

I've finally gained some weight! I knew I had to have since I'm physically bigger now and so is Child Person. I've gained 7 pounds since last month's appointment. Doc hadn't been concerned at all but she was also glad to see that I started gaining. She has magic ears when it comes to listening to the heartbeat. The ultrasound tech had measured it at 150 beats per minute and it turned out Doc wrote just that on her sheet--she didn't use a watch or anything. Doc also said, "Sounds like a boy." Sure we had told her the sex but according to Doc, boys just sound different. Their heartbeats are somehow more deliberate as well as slightly slower. I joked it was because Mr. b is a bass player.

Doc hadn't seen the ultrasound results yet. She figured they were sitting in her box. But in her normal casual fashion she waved it off and said that if anything was wrong they would have flagged her down. So I'm not concerned at all.

I had blood taken (finger prick) so they could check my hemoglobin levels. First time I've had non-pee related lab work since the initial visit. I was very interested to see the results. I'm totally in the normal range! I was concerned when I was told to quit my twice daily iron supplements and just take the prenatals. I mean, I've been severely anemic since puberty! But duh. I'm not menstruating while pregnant so right there I'm retaining much more blood than normal. I sure haven't felt that horrible weakness like my life force is being drained out of me that I always associated with low iron levels.

I met with a friend this weekend who is about 5 or so weeks behind me in her first pregnancy. We hadn't seen each other in a very long time so it was great to catch up. But it was also great to talk to someone that was actually, currently pregnant. As helpful as getting advice is, I have to wonder how much of it is retro-vision since now those women have the end product to deal with. (Excepting Auntie G, who knows me too well to ever give me the rose colored glasses version, and thinga, who's in the middle of Number 2 so she'd have to try to convince herself of any bullshit, too.) My friend thought it was great to be able to talk to someone who she knew wouldn't get sick of the topic. I know I'm always wondering just how much people actually care and how much they're just being polite. It's a tough line to straddle.

It was also nice to be with someone who just accepted the frequent pee breaks because she was taking them, too. And the tiny stomach thing. We both ate dinner at a ridiculously slow pace and both were full with half our plates left. No excuses needed.

And to answer Diablo's question, yes my hair is growing crazy fast. I didn't know it was because of the prenatal vitamins though. My stylist at my last haircut said it was just regular ol' hormones. And she also warned me about the chemo patient level of hair shedding after you give birth. Thankfully I had previously been enlightened. I haven't really noticed a severe drop-off in my regular shedding yet.

I had assumed that by this time I'd have chosen sides in the sweet vs. salty battle. It seems like everyone I've spoken to and all the Old Wives Tales I've heard mentioned falling in line behind one or the other. However, I seem to be strengthening in my normal position of keeping them in equal amounts. But like, it's getting really ridiculous. Last night I was sitting in bed with a box of Triscuits and a box of Girl Scout cookies, going back and forth between one and then the other. This morning for second breakfast I had a garlic bagel and then immediately had some chocolate. Should be interesting to see if I drive myself OCD.

I'm really frickin' sore today. My thighs are just killing me. I finally got a chance to do the yoga tape last night but apparently I was too enthusiastic. At least sore leg muscles is something I've experienced in my past. And my belly doesn't feel tight anymore so I guess it's a small price to pay!

Week 20

Holy shit. Week 20? That's halfway. Scary. But then again, I didn't even know I was preggers for the first buncha weeks. So it won't feel like I've only got half left to go for several more weeks. Or am I rationalizing?

I'm feeling very tight in my belly again. Doing the prenatal yoga tape really helped with that last week so I guess I should do that again. The goofy guru lady said very soothing things about having enough room for you and your baby. Sometimes I need to hear the hippie side of it all. I guess that's the Gemini in me. Sure I'm very rational and logical and even keeled. But the other part of me is more concerned with keeping my chakras in balance and picturing my bad energy leaving out my third eye. And damn if it doesn't work. When I did the tape last time, and we got to the visualizing segment, as usual the image of Brahma meditating on the lotus came to me. But this time I got this incredible feeling of warmth and was shocked by the realization that I'm the lotus. That doesn't look right now that I'm trying to put it into words so maybe I should go back to my practice of not trying to explain my personal relationship with the universe. But it was a very powerful feeling of Life Creator. And I have to let my hidden other half out when dealing with those kinds of impressions. I have a feeling she'll be spending more time out of her room as this pregnancy goes on.

It's a Boy

"Gender Appears Male" That's the caption on two of the five ultrasound pictures we got to take home with us. Close-ups of the baby's package, with a little arrow pointing at the weiner and balls. (Two others were fabulously clear profiles.) I asked the technician what the accuracy rate of these determinations usually was. "In this case? 90%." Both Mr. b and I had gut feelings for the past couple of months that it was a boy. But you can't voice them or people will think you don't want a girl. That wasn't it. We both just *sensed* it.

I had no idea how much stuff they check out during the ultrasound. Technician had a whole list of images she needed to capture. They all get provided to the radiologist who then reads the pictures and provides the exam results to Doc in time for our visit next week. I'm certainly no expert but I counted two hands, two arms, two feet, two legs. Internal organs were on the inside. Facial features in the correct locations. Four ventricles in the heart. A spine. You know, the big stuff. There was nothing so obviously wrong that my untrained eye spotted it.

It was still kind of surreal. Sure I felt Tech moving the scanner thingie over my belly and I saw the images on the monitor hanging above us. But it was hard to connect the two and realize that what we were viewing was inside me. Mr. b teared up a couple times.

Child Person was squirming all over the place and Tech had to constantly readjust her angle to get the shots she needed. I could barely feel it. Which, considering how fiercely I have felt movement previously, means that damn, C.P. is going to end up as much a fidgety spazz as his father. It took Tech multiple tries to get a solid reading on the heartbeat. 150 beats per minute. Apparently there's a broad range for 2nd trimester babies. Also, apparently when we hear the heartbeat at the regular visits, it's actually the umbilical cord. The blood courses through it at the rate of C.P.'s heart, not mine.

Of course we went out for dinner after the appointment. And of course Mr. b brought the pictures in with us so he could keep looking at his son. (I just love Mr. b so much.) And of course we had a semi-constant stream of servers and managers stopping by to coo over the pictures and congratulate us.

Ultrasound Day

Halfday for me today because then I have to drink 32 ounces of water, not pee, and go have an ultrasound. As thinga put it, I hope Child Person puts on a good peep show!

Mr. b and I spent craploads of money this weekend. We bought a digital camera finally. I am sick of analog pictures and want nothing to do with film, negatives, and prints of bad shots ever again. Not to mention doubles. Yes, we're going to take shitloads of pictures of C.P., but I want to be able to just burn them off onto a CD if they're not going to a) get added to the scrapbook, b) get sent off to friends and family, or c) get framed and hung on the wall. I wanted to have this new camera early enough that we can figure out all its tricks long before we're dealing with lack of sleep, poo and vom.

I also got some maternity clothes. Holy crap they are expensive! We ran into a lady Mr. b knows and she asked if we got "any good deals." "Not really." But I now have two new pairs of pants--jeans and pin-striped khakis--that are stylish, don't have that nasty elastic band, and will continue to fit me for the next few months. Mr. b also picked out two shirts for me. I honestly like hand-me-downs but he's right, having something new that's your own and is actually your correct size is a good thing for psychological well being. Plus, he's really good at picking out shirts for me. Thankfully I shouldn't have to spend much money on anything for in the heat of the summer. I can make dresses and just buy hippie dresses at Ragstock or something. What I really need is some kind of a Sugar Mama that wants to buy me maternity clothes and other presents. Or maybe I should try to work on Diablo's suggestion of posting a registry....

Milestone: this morning a random lady that works on this floor passed by me and asked if I was "expecting". She said that I just "popped out". Of course that's not the same as a complete stranger but it's still someone that wouldn't already know I was preggers. I officially look pregnant.

For the last couple of months I've had bloody nostrils. I don't mean classic nose bleeds where it gushes out and you have to stop it up. My dad gets those. I just mean that when I blow my nose the snot is bloody or when I clean my nose ring there's some scabbiness attached. Gross, I know. But I figured it was just a particularly dry winter or something. Instead, it's apparently yet another pregnancy side effect. The nasal membranes are somehow affected like the cervix is. Only the cervix has to change because it's about to have a job to do. Bloody noses are just a fun party bonus.

And boy, Doc wasn't kidding when she warned about cervical soreness during sex. Mr. b and I eventually figured out how to not go too deep and hurt me. But now of course my belly is starting to totally get in the way.

Week 19

I'm back to being hungry all the time. I think it's because Child Person is doing less development and more actual growing. And wiggling! So I'm definitely going through calories. Since, as of the last doctor appointment, I still haven't gained any weight, I'm starting to be bad with the snacks. Sure I'm still very healthy with the yoghurt and fruit in the mornings but afternoon snacks are more and more likely to be potato chips or a candy bar. Which isn't bad per se, just not something I should do every single day. Although I clearly could use the grams of fat. I'm also developing quite the Dr. Pepper addiction. I wasn't that big on caffeine before but now I can't seem to get enough. Again, probably not *bad*, but also not something I should cultivate.

I guess my lack of weight gain made a male friend feel much better about any future pregnancies of his fiancée. We saw him on Saturday night for the first time in several months. He told Mr. b that he was shocked that I looked so good. He thought that all women just automatically ballooned up at least 80 pounds when they got pregnant. Mr. b's (very astute) theory is that so many women starve themselves naturally that they're totally underweight and when they do get knocked up, they overcompensate.

And now for something completely different. Womba thought I should play the blog game that's going around.
"Grab the nearest book, turn to page 123, find the fifth sentence, and post the text of the following three sentences on one's own blog. Anyone who hunts down an "intellectual" book from some box down in the basement is disqualified!"
So from All Things Wise and Wonderful by James Herriot:
'Aye, 'e lies a lot wi' his head at foot of t'door. It's draughty there.'
'No, Mr. Close!' I bawled.

This morning I decided to try on an old bra that never fit me correctly. It was always a bit too big in the cups despite its puported size so it was definitely a laundry day bra. But now? I fill it out quite perfectly. Huh. I guess that means I should maybe go bra shopping. I hadn't noticed that my old ones were getting too small but if I continue to get bigger....

So far today Child Person is seriously gettin' down with the boogie get down. It's almost annoying there's so much flipping and swimming about going on in there. Apparently the correct term for feeling fetal movement is "quickening". That just makes me giggle and think of Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod. Nothing is big enough for Mr. b to feel yet though, despite his constant efforts.

Ah. Mental Health Day. How I will miss thee. In the midst of my laying about on Friday, reading and watching Star Trek on Spike (yay DS9!), I finally went through 2 boxes of hand-me-down maternity clothes. These were considerably more appealing than the crap my sister had given me several months ago. It was amazing how much better I looked in maternity shirts than the increasingly too-small regular items from my closet. I guess everything is just more attractive when it's cut to fit the shape of your figure. Some of it was still way too big but some is perfect for right now. I found a cute Shohreh Aghdashloo in 24 pre-gunshot wound shirt. I sorted through it all and stashed away all the slightly ill-fitting or just not something I think is cute items. I'm calling it the Beggars Can't Be Choosers box. We'll see if I end up digging in to it by the end.

I'm definitely feeling more stomach/uterus muscle changes. My abdomen has been really sore and I'm always feeling like I'm about to pull a muscle if I turn too quickly or something. It was especially bad trying to fall asleep last night when I was restless anyway. Hopefully these growing pains won't stick around too long. Or will go away with some stretching. I guess I should hurry up and watch that prenatal yoga tape to find out if there are any specific poses that are particularly good. I've just been going off of years of dance training and various miscellaneous martial arts and yoga classes.

I'm back to not knowing if something is pregnancy related or regular. I woke up crabby this morning. I mean, Hate the World and Everything In It crabby. Do I have to deal with major hormonal mood swings now? Or did I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Who knows. At least when you're dealing with teenager style pissiness, little things are able to make you feel better. I have a fresh haircut (apparently pregnancy hormones do make your hair grow wicked fast). I'm taking tomorrow off just to have a mental health day. And Mr. b told me to go buy some new clothes. He remembered from his preggo-lit reading that after you have the baby you'll fit best into your 5th month clothes so now's a good time to start buying stuff. Since it'll get reused for sure.

Week 18

Is there a secret handshake for pregnant ladies? Kind of like how motorcyclers always wave to other biker dudes, even if they are currently in their car. Or how black business people give each other the up-nod when they pass in the skyways. I pass other knocked up women and wonder if I need to smile or something. Then again, I'm not *quite* visibly pregnant to strangers yet.

But I guess I'm big enough for Mr. b to start talking to my stomach. The other night he put his mouth right up against my skin and, using his best Orson Welles, boomed, "Hey! This is Daddy!"

I am so fucking sick and tired of my clothes. I have only 4 pairs of pants that even fit any more. And that number is quickly dwindling. I tried on an old pair of jeans this weekend that are not low rise and I couldn't keep them on for longer than a couple of minutes. I'm wearing the same outfits over and over and over. There was a year in high school where the Will to my Grace bet me that I couldn't wear a different outfit everyday. We defined outfit to be the combination of separate elements and not the separate elements thenselves. Anyway, with my flamboyant and rather clownish style of the time, I won that bet easily. But then it took me years to shake off that mindset. Even well into college I was trying to put my outfits together in new ways. Like my half-asleep or stoned classmates and friends would even notice. And now I'm still feeling the fashion damage. I hate that I can only fit into a handful of my tight t-shirts anymore. I hate that I keep wearing the same basic outfits week in and week out. And I'm not even that big yet! Well, at least maternity clothes will be something new (or hand-me-downed) and different. I'm just not sure at what point you're supposed to switch over from your own stuff to that stuff.

The other day Mr. b announced, "Wow. Your stomach is really hard." Which makes sense when you consider how all my guts have been pushed up and away and are now in an increasingly denser mass. I don't really like looking at the diagrams that show just how all the organs end up getting shoved aside for the uterus. It's a little creepy because that's going on inside me Right Now. But I am certainly noticing three main side effects of this migration. First, my bladder is totally smaller or feeling the pressure or something. Even when I have to go "really bad", there's not much there. Certainly nothing like one of those lengthy Austin Powers pees. Second, pooping is definitely getting harder. I knew that constipation was a standard pregnancy symptom but now I'm also understanding why hemorrhoids are as well. I had always thought they were somehow related to the hormonal state of being pregnant or relegated to extreme pushing during labor. But nope. I bet most of them are just from trying to poop with a crimped colon. And lastly, my stomach is definitely smaller. I end up feeling full after half a meal. It's just not fair. Granted there are still moments when for whatever reason I can pack it in like old times, but those are increasing rare. I'm going to end up grazing literally all day long.

Last night I read the cover story in the current issue of Newsweek. It talked about the way that women are constantly competing with each other on being Supermoms, and ruining their own sense of self-worth at the same time. A lot of elements reminded me of the book Flux, which I read a couple of years ago. In that book the author discussed how women have been told we can have it all so many times that when the reality of not having enough time to actually do everything hits us, we freak out. The magazine dealt with raising children exclusively while the book handled all the major life stages from marriage (or not) to having kids (or not) to retiring (or not). And while I certainly enjoyed both, and got a lot out of them, I am at the tail end of the generation they were discussing. I can see some familiar things but mostly, I just think, "What a bunch of wackos. There's no logic behind that kind of behavior!"

Last week morrigan commented on this very thing. She also brought up the point that these women so often define themselves only by their children. That is crazy talk. Mr. b and I have repeated, so many times that it's almost a mantra, that you should never let having kids stop you from living your life. Sure, things'll be harder and you'll have to make some sacrifices. But if you, say, convince yourself that you can't go camping anymore because you can't bring your child, then you're smoking crack.

I don't understand the need to go into perfectionist overdrive for kids. There was an episode of Desperate Housewives where Lynette ended up taking her boys' Ritalin just to help her compete with the "alpha mom". At the end of her speed addiction arc she broke down to her friends and complained about how easy they made motherhood look. The big revelation? That it wasn't. That they thought they were going to loose it. But that they kept up appearances.

This kind of keeping up of appearances has got to stop. And it's one of the reasons I'm so upset that in all the calls for more communication between moms about reality and less competition between moms about childcare, there is never any mention of the friend-desertion-during-pregnancy phenomena. How can we share our experiences when our supposedly closest friends won't even stick it out during the first stage? Yes, we can commiserate with our friends that already have kids, or Get It even if they don't have any. But from afar, those deserters are going to see a false picture of perfection because they won't be in the dialogue about how much things can suck. And then the cycle repeats itself.

I was in a lot of activities when I was a kid. I had chores to do. But I also had a lot of unstructured free time. I can't imagine trying to fill up my child's every waking second with bullshit to try to get them into college. Some people aren't cut out for college. And there is no way you can know if your infant is going to be one of them. Or your toddler. Or even your elementary school student. The quality time versus quantity time argument is as fraught with logical fallacies as the nature versus nuture argument. All I know is that I'm going to do what makes sense. Common sense people. Let's rediscover it. It makes life so much easier.

Week 17

I have gained zero pounds since my last appointment. Nurse and Doctor were unconcerned but Mr. b was a bit aghast. Well, it's not like I don't eat all the time! It's just that I'm naturally a fairly healthy eater and I didn't start out severely underweight, all anorexic and on diet pills or living off beer and cigarettes or anything. I'm simply your standard tall and broad-shouldered Scandinavian-American mutt. Doc measured my slowly growing bump from belly button to top of pubes. And we got to listen to the whale probe, I mean Junior's heartbeat again. I told Mr. b he needs to sample it. I'm going to make him bring some gear to the next appointment. At the end of the visit Doc announed, "You're perfect." As she was busy writing Routine Pregnancy on my ultrasound form she added, "This is the time in your life where you want to be boring." Alrighty then. Everything is on track. In three weeks we should know if it's a little Major Carter or a wee Captain James T.

Leaving the clinic Mr. b was all about getting me some dinner. I told him my plans to just make quesadillas from the previous night's homemade Mexican leftovers. His face fell. "But we always go out to eat after a baby appointment!" So that's our new tradition.

I'm glad Mr. b can come with me to the doctor this afternoon after all. He had originally accidentally scheduled himself to work. It's not like it's that big of a deal. These are certainly not very exciting appointments. Pee in a cup, get weighed, check my blood pressure, listen to Junior Dax's heartbeat. Not exactly a spectator event. But I need him there. I need to not be doing this alone. Even though I technically am doing this alone. But that's just because of biology. I'm glad that I'm not a knocked up single gal. I'm glad that I don't have a baby daddy who just doesn't care or Get It. Mr. b is very supportive and is excited about it all. So I'm glad that he comes with me to all the boring office visits because the reality of this situation finally hit me last night. I think I've been pretty darn realistic about pregnancy and having an infant. But last night I was suddenly overcome by a wave of fear. And it wasn't even the giving birth fear (which I keep locked up tightly because I'm not even willing to face that one yet--the Bene Gesserit would disapprove). It was the reality fear. I really will have an infant to care for before the year is out.

Apparently I have completely lost my taste for Chinese food. Or else Junior hates it. Or something. Granted I've slowly gotten pickier and pickier about it since first trying fried rice in junior high. But I've always been able to find something I like, even at the cheapest buffets that Mr. b loves so dearly. This weekend he surprised me by suggesting we go to my personal favorite Chinese buffet, way on the other side of town, near our old apartment. And I didn't even like that! Weird.

I've been putting lotion on my stomach. I know it's a total old wive's tale that you can prevent stretch marks by moisturizing but I don't care. I have ridiculously dry skin, especially in the winter, and it can't hurt.

Late yesterday afternoon I was suddenly overcome with this horrible feeling of sickness. I felt feverishly hot and wondered if I needed to run to the bathroom to puke. I was seriously concerned that I would never make it home on the bus. Thankfully I got ahold of Mr. b and he rescued me by fetching me from work. But he was extremely worried that something was wrong with the baby. I honestly felt like it was all in my guts and not girl-parts or baby related in any way. It was more like food poisoning. BP (Before Pregnancy) I very rarely got heartburn and now I seem to get it all the time. I keep a jug of Rolaids on my bedside table. So I think Mr. b nailed it: my lunch just didn't sit well with me and normally, I'd end up with a wicked case of indigestion. But pregnancy turned it to 11.

The darling older Cuban woman that also works on this floor just declared that I'm starting to show. But also that since I'm tall, I won't ever have that big of a belly. I don't know about the second part but I had definitely noticed the first part. Earlier this week I realized that I actually look pregnant now. And not just at the end of the day when my belly's full of chow. At first I thought it was mostly when I was naked, because then you can see the full silhouette of my body. Since I normally wear low-rider pants, they haven't really enhanced any belly size that I could tell. But I've also continued to wear the tightish shirts that make up most of my wardrobe and there's no denying that if you *know*, now there's obviously a pregnant belly under there.

I've been anticipating that I would mostly end up wearing hippie dresses, baby doll and empire waisted, flouncy fabric things. Especially since it'll be hot when I'm biggest. But I also don't have any need to camouflage my pregnancy. Not like my MIL who kept hers hidden from everyone and had planned to give up Mr. b's older brother for adoption. My point being, I don't think I'd go to the extreme of the current Hollywood standard of having your belly actually exposed, but I don't see any issue with continuing to wear form fitting tops. And hell, I might as well flaunt the enhanced bustline while it's there.

Week 16

I'm becoming more and more convinced that I'm actually feeling Junior move and that I'm not just hallucinating it. According to the preggo-lit (which Mr. b reads so I don't have to--good Hunny!) I shouldn't start to notice movement until the end of the fourth month. I'm in the middle of the fourth month. But I've also talked to women with more than one kid and they all say they felt movement way earlier for the second child than the first. Because they knew what to pay attention for. One co-worker described it as feeling butterflies in your stomach. Literally. And that's what I keep feeling.

Back when I first found out and was noticing other physical stomach weirdnesses, Auntie G postulated that I was hyper aware because that's the part I was freaked out about most. The having something growing inside of me bit. So I'm definitely continuing to stretch my consciousness and reach out for some sign of the life that's poaching off me. But I'm also much more used to the notion of being pregnant. Probably actually being pregnant has helped me there. So I wonder if I'm more desperate to be sure of the fetal movement because I'm desperate to feel life inside me. Because of loosing Tron.

I've sort of been making it my mission to tell other ladies about the desertion of friends thing. I had conducted a little survey of friends and co-workers to find out if they too had been abandoned by any friends. Sadly, 90% of them had. I find that appalling. We're supposed to band together sisters! Fight the power and whatnot. But as soon as someone gets knocked up and you're not ready to face your own life decisions, you turn and run? Pathetic. For instance, Auntie G was an extremely socially active chick, going out almost every night. She told me that when she got pregnant her phone stopped ringing. In fact, out of all her no-kids friends, Mr. b and I were two of three that didn't treat her differently. That is just wrong. So I've been warning the women I know that are considering trying for kids in the next year or two. Just so they have a heads up. Because I sure wish I had known about that little side-effect. Not that it wouldn't have made it feel like less of a betrayal, but at least I would have been prepared for it. But Mr. b is right, new friendships and renewals of older friendships will take their places. And that is already happening.

Week 15

People have been telling both Mr. b and I how you get this amazing burst of energy in your 2nd trimester. When the hell is mine coming?! I'm just exhausted this week. Maybe it's because this has been a particularly difficult week, both at work and with the loss of Tiny Tron. My emotions are definitely at the surface. Then again, I can't tell if the rawness of my feelings is entirely grief related or if it's pregnancy induced. Probably both. But I am definitely more emotional and it takes more effort to go back to my formerly rational self. I was previously so logical that my friend used to call me a Vulcan. How the hell do Vulcan women get through pregnancy without going nuts trying to suppress all the extreme emotions?! Well, that's certainly a storyline that won't be covered in Enterprise now that it's canceled so I'll just have to wonder.

I've been worrying that grief might hurt Junior somehow. I know it's unfounded and totally ridiculous but I'm also still not in the most sound state of mind. Yet I'm too far along to deal with loosing the pregnancy now. My sister reminded me that she was pregnant when our grandfather died. And A1 turned out just fine! I'm definitely becoming closer to my sister. I'm not entirely convinced that it has only to do with me expecting. Part of it is her own very slow maturity.

Mr. b and I did decide that we're not going to have the triple/quadruple screen blood test. There are just too many false positives from that test that would then freak us out and force us to have to undergo more intensive testing. And what could we do about it anyway? The Tron ordeal was enough for us to go through.

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.