As most of you know, I conduct a choir at the church in which I grew up. Actually, my father was raised in this church as well. My grandpa, Showboat Hobbs, was the president of the congregation for a time. Needless to say, I have some serious history with the place and most of the members have known me since I was a baby. This is what makes their comments about my pregnancy so strange to me. I know they love me, but WOW! Old ladies really come up with some interesting things to say. Here is a small collection:
“Don’t worry. . . I was that huge when I was pregnant too.”
“I hope you don’t sneeze before your due date! [insert laughter. . . their laughter, not mine]”
Folks, it’s prediction time. My dear friend Kelly gave me this idea and I think it’s a great one. My official due date is November 7. What I want you to do is predict when Baby Soren will actually hatch. And for some added fun (and to be used in case of a tie), I would also like you to include your best guess as to his weight and length. The best part is that if you’re the winner, I’ll give you a prize! I don’t know what that’s going to be yet. . . but it will be rad. Oh, and we’re not going by the Price is Right rules. Who ever is closest on the date, either early or late, will be named the winner.
I really feel like I’m losing steam. When I first started this blog, I thought I would have all sorts of things to share about being pregnant, and at the beginning of it all, I did. It was weird and new and exciting. It’s still exciting, but really, it’s that finally meeting Soren will be exciting. The pregnancy? Not that exciting. I am also very fearful that if I start writing openly about being pregnant, I might start to appear whiny. Which is something I have tried not to do for the past eight months. However, I know that some of you need an update, so here’s the best I can do. Currently, Soren is running out of space and is trying to make a quick getaway out my belly button. When that doesn’t pan out, he likes to play hide and seek under my ribs. If he gets bored of playing that game, he likes to use my bladder as a speed bag. See? I sound whiny.
Another odd symptom of pregnancy which I have written about a bit, is the weird dream phenomenon. It’s pretty nuts. Well, this marvel of the placenta brain was taken to a whole new level about a month ago. Before I start, I need to say that I have gone back and forth many times trying to decide whether or not to share this. Because it makes me sound insane. But then I realized that most of you reading this already know that I am afflicted with a touch of the crazies anyway, so what’s there to lose?
Anyway, here’s the story. . .
No, WAIT! Before I start, I need to lay some ground-work. You know that part in The Godfather where the movie producer wakes up with the horse head in his bed? Okay, if you haven’t the faintest clue as to what I am talking about, you really need to bone up on your movie watching because The Godfather is pretty much one of the best movies EVER. Anyway, here’s the clip. Oh and before you watch it, know that there’s some blood. And some dead horses (sorry Meem!).
That awesome screaming you just heard? Remember it. Now, on to the story. . . one night Brandon and I went to bed. It was kind of hot and humid this particular evening, so I turned on a big fan by the bedroom door. But then the fan noise was kind of keeping me awake, so I put in some ear plugs. Then I fell asleep. A few hours later, I woke up. Nothing strage there, I always wake up in the middle of the night. So I’m laying there awake, and all of a sudden I hear the sound of a man’s voice, filtered through the white-noise of the fan and my earplugs. And he yells, “EXCUSE ME!” So naturally, I FREAK OUT and start screaming myself (this is where you need to recall The Godfather horse-head screaming except in a more high-pitched, soprano type tone. . .but there’s definitely the “ahh, Ahh, AHHHH!” crescendo pattern). Poor Brandon wakes up and is all, what is wrong with you, woman?! “There was a man screaming the doorway of our bedroom!” I reply. He looks at me, and very matter-of-factly says, “No, honey. You’re the only one who’s screaming.” Then we go back to sleep.
Apparently, I wasn’t laying there awake, but I wasn’t asleep either. There was no man. No yelling. Except for mine. And I’m really happy that Brandon was the only one there to witness my moment loonsville.
I have noticed that when one is pregnant, one has many things to complain about. Usually these complaints are totally justified because of how much pregnancy changes a body. Morning sickness, back aches, weight gain, mood swings, and placenta brain (just to name a few) make some pregnant women totally miserable. However, in the last few weeks I have also noticed that there are quite a few things that I personally enjoy about being pregnant. This is a post about those things.
1) Seeing your baby before he pops out. I have had quite a few ultrasounds because of my fat uterus. Remember how I posted about this? Dr. Chaplain always thinks that I am measuring too big. So at first, it was maybe because I was having twins -Britten and Branda. In reality though… fat uterus. Then it was maybe because I had too much fluid. Got another ultrasound and… fat uterus strikes again! Recently it was feared that our child was ginormous (which wouldn’t totally surprise me as Brandon was almost 11 pounds when he was born). But wouldn’t you know… fat ute.
However, during this last ultrasound we got to see the sweetest little mugshot that ever was:
I especially love how he’s doing that little crooked hand-to-the-mouth move because if you were able to look at me when I sleep (which for the record would be very creepy, so please don’t), you would see me demonstrating the same move. It’s proof that I’m the mother.
2) My model hair. I have a lot of hair to begin. Some would even venture to call it “big.” But something with the vitamins and being pregnant makes it crazy healthy. AND it never falls out. Which is a totally new phenomenon. Before I got pregnant, I was really into shedding in a big way. One time in high school, I found a bird’s nest that was constructed primarily of my cast-away strands of hair. No joke.
3) My shower! Now this hasn’t happened yet, but I just love a good party.
4) People being really nice. I like to think that I’m a pretty nice person and that I am treated well because I treat others well. But when you’re pregnant you can be totally crabby and people will still be nice to you. Not that I’m taking advantage of this. I just mean that people assume you’re kind of uncomfortable and because of that, you can’t like, pick stuff up off the ground. Which technically, I probably could pick it up myself, but I don’t want to. So all the niceness just makes my day.
I guess that’s it. It’s only a list of four, but at least I am stopping along pregnancy way to smell the roses.
In my experience, one of the strangest side effects of being pregnant are the very odd, vivid and random dreams that I have. Usually, while in my normal, un-pregnatized state, I dream vividly, but I can always connect a dream to something that I experienced in my real life fairly recently. While in my pregnatized state, however, my dreams have absolutely nothing to do with anything. People I haven’t seen in years show up so we can chat over a cup of tea. Dionne Warwick is suddenly my long-lost childhood friend. I mean, obviously.
So I wasn’t surprised when I woke up this morning and recalled this little scenario from Dreamland. . .
(Brandon and I are walking around with cafeteria trays of food trying to find a place to sit. But we’re in some weird, big, old house with lots of mahogany paneling. And there are other people with trays of food sitting in various rooms on the floor.)
Brandon: I’m a choir girl, right?
Britta: Well, no. You’re a choir boy, though.
Brandon: Yeah. Logic would lead me to believe so, but Bob Meek told me otherwise.
So begins your first letter, little boy. I have some things to tell you and I’m scared that I will forget them by the time you actually arrive. There’s so much preparation going into your life with us already.
You have two dogs and one cat. I’m not really going to talk to you about the cat because she is old and scabby. The dogs, however, are very important to your father and me. They are both girls and are very excited to meet you. Their names are Roxy and Zsa Zsa.
Roxy is a boxer. This breed is supposed to be a wonderful family dog and I can tell already that you and Roxy will be great friends. Ever since she found out that I was pregnant, she has taken to falling asleep as close to me as possible. Many mornings I wake up to her big boxer lips planted firmly on my cheek. And I mean, check out those lips:
Zsa Zsa is a vizsla. I found her running around your Auntie Lisa’s neighborhood in Fisher’s Landing. We didn’t plan on keeping Zsa Zsa, but she and Roxy became sisters immediately and once the family who lost her told us that they didn’t want her anymore, we were happy to add her to our family. Zsa Zsa will probably spend the rest of her life trying to adopt you. She never got to have puppies of her own, but there is no doubt in my mind that she was born to be a mommy dog. I should warn you that she is a little high strung. This was her first portrait:
They tell me every day about how excited they are to meet you and to lick you and play with you. I am so happy that you will get to grow up with two such amazing animals.
I also need to talk to you about your level of activity. I’m starting to wonder if you’re going to flail around as much outside of the womb as inside. In my mind I imagine you looking a lot like Elaine when she did her little dance on an episode of Seinfeld. Check it before you wreck it:
I mean SERIOUSLY, it is starting to feel really weird.
I went to the doctor yesterday and I am very proud to tell you that I do not have gestational diabetes. Which is a very good thing because if I did have it, I would have to watch what I eat, which doesn’t sound like much fun to me. Also, you (or rather my stomach) is measuring a few weeks larger than normal. But I am just blaming this on my fat uterus which I have blogged about before. I think that you are probably just the right size. Or I guess there’s an outside chance that you’re already the size of your father.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 30 years old which makes me feel like an old bitty. But when I look at my 30 years of life, I can’t believe how incredibly blessed I feel. I have your father who is very smart and likes to fix things. We live in a nice house with a pretty view of the river. And I’m going to get to meet you in three months. You, the little boy flipping around in my tummy as I write this. You, who have already positively changed our lives in ways I cannot measure. When I think of these things, 30 doesn’t seem so old. Who knew this is what my simple, little, crazy life would look like?
Anyway, when you’re old enough to read and to comprehend, I’ll give this letter to you. I hope it helps you understand how much you were loved before you even showed us your little face. Sleep tight. I love you.
According to weather.com, it is currently 104 degrees outside of my house. According to my thermostat, my living room is hovering around 90 degrees. According to the size of my belly, and various other medical professionals, I am currently six months pregnant. All of these facts combine to create a very uncomfortable situation.
As most of you know, I haven’t really suffered from the typical ailments of a pregnant woman. So when people started talking to me about how this summer would be “difficult” and “uncomfortable,” I just sort of ignored them. But Oh Sweet Jesus, being pregnant and hot is not very much fun. I have banished myself to the basement, which is slightly better than the upstairs half of my house. Fudgesicles are all that I am willing to ingest for nourishment. Well, fudgesicles and cans of diet pespi which I keep in a cooler next the couch, Gran Torino style. Nothing but the best for Baby Boy Soren!
Normally, I would simply retreat to a friend’s air conditioned house. However, we are babysitting Rob and Siri’s dog Dexter, while they celebrate their third wedding anniversary (Happy Anniversary Prestons!). Dexter is an awesome black lab who is close to being the perfect dog except for one bad habit which he demonstrates only while at our house. You see, there are these two pillars downstairs that he is really compelled to pee on. It’s not totally his fault. One of the really funky things about my 49-year-old house is that the pillars which are holding up the floor are actual tree trunks. So when Dexter comes downstairs, he just thinks he’s walking through the forest and like any other boy dog, he likes to pee on trees. Anyway, the reason this prevents me from leaving the house to cool off is that I would have to leave him and Roxy and Zsa Zsa in the basement, so that they wouldn’t roast, and then I would come home to pee trunks.
I do not know what my problem is. There are many things happening to me and in this bump of mine and I cannot seem to bring myself to write about them. But I’m leaving for California tomorrow in order to fully enjoy myself, I need to post at last one little entry. So here are a few mini-updates in the world Britta and Baby Boy Vrosh.
1) He’s a boy. You probably already knew that, but just in case you missed it, I wanted everyone to be aware that important detail.
2) His name is Soren. It’s Danish. I’m Danish. So that’s why I like it so much. I had come up with lots of Scandinavian inspired names, but when Brandon suggested Soren, it just really seemed to fit. And for the record, if the baby turned out to be a girl, we were going to name her Soren also. That’s how much we like it. So if you like it, tell us. We love to feel validated. If you hate it, be quiet or lie. That’s what good friends do.
3) We have not picked a middle name yet. I am really liking Lauridsen which is my dad’s mother’s maiden name. It goes with the whole Danish theme. And also I love the cadence of it: Soren Lauridsen Vrosh. Ooh, and as I was just typing it, I realized how much I like the look of it as well.
4) Baby Soren really likes to do some tae bo in my belly. It feels really fun and I’m glad that he’s having such a good time in there. Brandon hasn’t been able to feel the acrobatics yet, which I think is making him feel bad. What he doesn’t realize is that it is probably due to the lovely layer of fat around my belly. Not his lack of baby feeling skills.
5) I cannot sleep between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 AM. It’s not because I’m uncomfortable either. I just can’t do it. I fall asleep just fine but then once 2:00 hits, BAM! I am wide awake. Once Brandon gets up to ready himself for work, I kind of fall asleep again and then continue to sleep until noon. This makes me feel like a loser, but at least I’m not working right now which gives me the option of sleeping in. Also, I have gotten a lot of reading done during my bouts of insomnia. Currently I’m reading Little Bee and it is amazing. I’ll loan it to you when I’m finished.
6) I am over half-way done with being pregnant! I feel strange being excited about that because I really haven’t hated being pregnant at all. I managed to somehow avoid all the terrible things that are supposed to happen to you during the first trimester, and the second trimester is supposed to be this easy. I have another doctor’s appointment next week, so we’ll see how the whole weight gain thing is going, but I don’t feel like I’ve gained too much. Plus, I think I read somewhere that you’re supposed to gain a pound a week from here on out. Which totally freaks me out, but oh well. My friend Erica says that I’m valedictorian of being pregnant which makes me very happy because I’ve never been valedictorian of anything. I feel smart. Finally.
So that’s it. I’ll be gone for the next five days or so. Not that it affects you or this blog. . . I just thought I’d let you know.
We had our second ultrasound today and everything looked just great. The baby is healthy and growing. We asked the technician to tell us to look away when he was determining the gender and then check the appropriate box on the card pictured above. He then sealed it in an envelope.
Later (after I took a nap because that is what I have to do EVERY day) we went out to dinner and opened the card together. Brandon nearly hopped right out of his chair when we saw. . . we’re having a baby boy.
We’re both so excited it’s rediculous. So for those of you who predicted boy, congratulations! For those of you who didn’t, you can buy Baby Boy Vrosh a really cute outfit to make up for it.
So tomorrow is the big day. . . the day we get to find out what flavor the baby is. Overwhelmingly, friends and family have predicted boy. But I wanted to provide you all the opportunity to go on the record with your best guess. Just leave it in the comments below. We’ll see who’s right tomorrow. Ready? GO!
