Archive for April, 2009
April 24th, 2009
As you can see, this version of my blog is much, much fancier. This is because of Erica’s husband Aaron, who is way smarter than I am, and who also made this site look the way it does. All I did was say something about how I want some deer and green and hipness. And this is what he came up with. If you would like to take a gander at what his amazing blog looks like, go here:
www.verymystery.com
Anyway, not much to report on the prgnancy front. Except that I really am digging peach iced tea. So good and juicy. And please update your booksmark to reflect the change in address. If you’ve already subscribed by email, I don’t think you have to do anything. And I think that’s it. Happy Friday!
11 (almost 12) weeks
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April 20th, 2009
Well, one of the things that I did not tell the internet in my last two posts is that for a minute, we thought we were having twins. See, when we went to the doctor last Wednesday, it was discovered that my uterus (sorry men, you might want to stop reading now if you hate the word uterus) was bigger than expected. Fluffy, if you will. Some of the possible explanations given to me were: 1) miscalculated conception date, 2) nothing, 3) something extra in there, like a fibroid, and 4) something extra in there, like a twin. As in the beginnings of TWO human children. Their names? Oh and Crap.
Understandably, for the last few days Brandon and I really had to toy around with this twin idea. Could we do it? Would we be able to tag-team? Should we give one away? We finally realized that we would be fine, no matter what happened. So today, during the ultrasound, we got to see that we were only having one child and that it looked like this:
Fuzzy, yes. But isn’t it kind of cute in a gross way? And let me tell you… kid was FLAILING! Thank God I can’t feel anything yet.
Moral of the story is: no twins, no fibroids, no incorrect due date. All of this hullabaloo was due to the fact that I have a fat uterus. Are you really that surprised?
11 weeks
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April 17th, 2009
Today’s ring answers to Luscious Lady Marmalade.
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April 16th, 2009
. . . my fingers have swelled up to the size of sausages. A few weeks ago I noticed that I could NOT get my wedding rings off. Now if you’re a girl, I’m sure you’ve experienced the panic that sets in when you realize that you can’t get a ring off of your finger. Think middle school, you’re at Nordstrom with some friends and you decide to try onthe costume jewelry rings. You realize one is stuck and WHAM! you’re sweating, your heart is racing because clearly YOU WILL DIE if you don’t get this ring off your finger immediately! Okay now imagine feeling that way every single day about a ring that represents your marriage. Not good.
So, while I was seeing the doctor yesterday, I had him cut my rings off. I had tried every other trick I could find on the internets, but nothing would work. It had to be done.
To put a fun little twist on this debacle, I decided to assemble a collection of replacement rings that I will rotate daily. To start my collection, I have acquired this bedazzlement:
I call her Madame Isabella Prescott. And yes, I plan on naming all of my rings.
10 weeks.
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April 16th, 2009
So ever since I found out I was pregnant, I have had this sneaking suspition that it’s all a big hoax. First of all, I never got sick. Ever. Well there was this one time when B and I were at the zoo with the Preston clan and we walked through this bird atrium. It’s normally kind of cool, but during this visit, it was being all ghetto and none of the pretty waterfalls were going and it was REALLY stuffy. Oh, and it smelled like bird unrine. Bad. Anyway, I almost woofed my cooks in there, but I booked it out to the zebras and kind of dry-heaved in front of them. But that was the only time. Secondly, I do not feel any different. Especially recently. I’m not overly tired. I’m not “glowing.” Yes, I do have have my moments of HBS, but I’m beginning to think that I’ve always had moments of that, pregnant or not.
There have been a few subtle indications that I’m pregnant however. Like, the 16-year-old style zits that my face has taken a liking to. Or the weird raging headaches I get from time to time. But I could easily just chalk that up be being stressed out. So, needless to say, I was kind of nervous about our upcoming “hear the heartbeat appointment.”
Yesterday, Brandon met me at Dr. Chaplain’s office. We went back and Brandon got to meet the doctor for the first time. I think that went well. Then we asked 498 questions, all of which Dr. Chap answered or at least tried to answer. Then came the blessed event. Using the little doppler wand, the doctor waved it around my belly. At first we couldn’t hear anything. Like for quite a few minutes. Then we picked up my heartbeat. But then. . . all of a sudden. . . wchow wchow wchow. There was definitely something in there.
So anyway, it’s official. Start spreading the news.
Oh! And Brandee requested that I start saying how far along I am each time I post. I’ve decided that this information will go at the bottom. That way if you don’t care, you don’t have to look. See how accomodating I am?
10 weeks
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April 6th, 2009
Guess. . .
No, actually it’s not bourbon. Although, if you were to have asked me what I THOUGHT I would miss most two-and-a-half months ago, I would have guessed that too. I am finding that I miss things I didn’t even know I cared for at all.
I miss ibuprofin. Now, I didn’t eat Advil like candy or anything, but it was sure nice to have a go-to drug when a head ache decided to sprout. Now my options are Tylenol and taking a nice, long, hot bath to relax. Both of which are equally useless. Why do they even make Tylenol? I’m finding that not only do I think Tylenol is a joke, but I’m actually getting mad at it. Like feelings of rage. Why does it insist on making false-promises? Why?
I miss being able to suck it in. You know. . . the gut. I’m not really showing yet. And while I haven’t gained any extra weight, it seems like things are shifting and becoming different textures. Now my little pooch of fat is kind of hard and immobile. I have always felt that even when I’m carrying around more weight than I’d like, I always had the ol’ ace in the whole. Justin Timberlake walks by, I could look pretty damn good for at least 15 seconds. Granted, I wasn’t breathing for those 15 seconds. Asphyxiation. . . looking hott. . . asphyxiation. . . looking hott. . . yeah, see, even now. Looking hott trumps all.
I miss cleaning the cat box. Oh wait, no I don’t. SIKE!
I miss good hips. Not in the way of WOW! those are some really “shapely” looking hips but in the way of what the hell happened to you, hips?! What is this?! If I don’t think about it, I’m okay, but as soon as it enters my brain (like right now) all I can concentrate on is how abnormal they feel. I constantly have the urge to crack them or pop them, but I when I try, nothing happens. And then, THEN, when I go to bed it suddenly feels like they’re fused to my lower back and all I can think about is how much I want THAT to crack. It’s all so stupid. Good, unitchy, uncracky hips are totally under-rated.
I miss Disneyland. For many reasons. One of which is the fact that I always miss Disneyland, unless I am there. It’s an illness really, one that I inherited from my father. The second reason is that even if I was in Disneyland, at this very moment, all I would be able to do is go on stupid rides that make you puke. Like the teacups. There would be no Space Mountain, no Tower of Terror, no Califonia Screamin’, no Thunder Mountain Railroad! I have to stop. Just thinking about it makes me get all worked up.
So anyway, there it is.
Oh! Looking ahead, Brandon and I will have our first official listen to the baby appointment on April 15. That should be pretty exciting. I should find a way to record the WHHOW WHHOW WHHOW heartbeat noise and post it! We will see.
9 weeks
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