Just to Catch You Up...

This is what's been happening y'all:

 I'm breastfeeding.  Its what I do these days.

I never thought that I'd be the type of person that would do such a thing.  It had always appeared awkward and unnatural to me.  All through my pregnancy when someone would ask if I intended to breastfeed, I'd say (in a rather apathetic way), "if I can I will, if I can't I won't."  I took no classes and the only research I did about breastfeeding was to skim over the chapter in "What to Expect" the day before we left for the hospital.  But then in recovery, when it was asked if I wanted to try I said yes.  The mild sedative that had been given to me in the operating room while they were sewing me up probably kept me just relaxed enough that before I knew it, Little Girl was happily feeding with absolutely no problems.

Little did I know that I would be spending so much time feeding.  The first two weeks I fed her every hour on the hour while she experienced her first big growth spurt.  I never had the bleeding nipples, but I did experience pain and my pediatrician referred me to the on-staff lactation consultant.  I recommend everyone go to a pediatrician that has a lactation consultant... she is the only reason I'm still breastfeeding.  Psychologically, breastfeeding 24/7 can be draining.

At week three I contracted Mastitis which persisted through week four (see why below)... it is the sickest I've ever been since having the flu in 10th grade.  I had a low-grade fever that left me shaking and chattering for hours on end until the fever reducer would kick in and then I'd be sweating like a stuck pig.  I had body aches that radiated to my core.  I got a huge lump under my arm pit and it hurt to walk (yes walk!) and feed and the only way to make that feel better was to feed and try to "express" the lump during pumping or feeding which made me want to run in the opposite direction of that precious, crying (hungry) baby.  On top of that-- I started throwing up. And I developed an allergic reaction to the medication I was on.  I no longer can take penicillin.  So after spending one night in the throws of body aches, chills, fever, chattering, crying, throwing-up, itching, etc. I was taken back to the doctor for a different medication.

And of course, after taking antibiotics, Little Girl got thrush in her mouth.  And of course now I have thrush... on my nipples and milk ducts.  Yea!

Again, if I didn't have good support I'd be hawking the formula right now.  But now I have a special medication and so does Little Girl and hopefully we will be completely well in a few more days. 

These days you'll find me sitting around my house in some state of undress in the attempt to air out my boobs all while leaking breast milk... I'm afraid that most days I permeate the air with the soft aroma of slightly soured milk.  Little Girl likes it.  No complaints on her end.  I on the other hand prefer the scent of Ralph Lauren's Romance.  But I do firmly believe that my discomfort is a small price to pay for all the benefits that are gained from breastfeeding.  So I'm taking it week-by-week, day-by-day.  And this week we are feeding!

A Birth Story....

Greetings from Bessies' Best Dairy.  We've only got one customer, but the reviews are all raves!

November 6th at 12:24pm one tiny little cry erupted from behind the curtain separating Husband and me from what was surely a gruesome scene as the doctor and nurses worked to bring our little one into the world. 

One little cry and our world completely changed.

She still didn't have a name.  The nurses that had prepped me for my surgery were kindly reassuring that the name would come.  I was a wreck, scared out of my mind for the next part... the surgery part and I finally lost my cool, quietly crying into my chest, pressing the top of my head into the nurse standing in front of me as the needle for the spinal block was put into my back.  My resolve was lost.

Husband was brought in, covered from head to toe in blue hospital garb.  Oddly enough, the blue scrubs amplified the blue in his eyes and he looked calm and strong--excited, but calm.  He was sat near my head and the medical team informed us that they had already begun the procedure.  "This is so weird,"  I remember telling him as I felt his hand on my head and nothing from my chest down.  The nurse gave him a tissue to mop up the tears that were still quietly streaming from my eyes.

Lord knows what was going on behind the sheet.  It must have been a textbook surgery because my doctor leisurely talked with the nurses about his son and a few colleagues they had in common.   

And then we were told she was almost here.  To be exact, my doctor said, "just a few more layers."  And then there was the little cry and nothing as been exactly the same since.

With big blue eyes and a head full of light brown hair, she weighed in at a respectable 6 pounds, 2 ounces and measured in at 18 and a half inches long. 

Speechless and overwhelmed my tears of fear changed to tears of joy.  Before I knew it I was in recovery with my tiny new family learning to breastfeed and being poked and proded by several nurses.  The OR nurses were right, a name finally came to us. We went traditional and looked to family names for inspiration.  Her name is Elizabeth Aldon and we think we did a good job... but of course, I'm biased.

She is perfect in that way that all babies are perfect and we couldn't be more proud.  These days she calls the shots.  Simply leaving the house takes hours it seems and most days if I can find the time to wash a few dishes or fold a couple of pieces of clothing, I'm on cloud nine.

Yes, everything is different with just that one little cry....

She's Here....

Our Little One has arrived November 6th, weighing in at a respectable 6 pounds, 2 ounces!  I promise to fill in the delightful details very soon... but it is hard to type with one hand and hold a beautiful baby in the other.  For now the baby wins.  You understand riht?

38 Weeks: Only 5 Days Left to Go...

Tuesday was the start of our 38th week of being pregnant...  and surprisingly I feel really good.  I've had little to no swelling in my feet and just on rare occasions my wedding bands become a little snug.

My blood pressure is holding steady as is my weight... things seem to be going well and more than anything, I'm relieved.  After going through months of infertility, I had sometimes thought that maybe I'm just not "meant" to be pregnant.  And then after finally getting a positive and then becoming so very sick that first trimester, I for sure thought that it was true.  But somewhere near the end of that first trimester the sickness lifted and from there out I've felt good.

Now my biggest complaint is that I'm running out of time to prepare and I'm exhausted.  My afternoons and nights are spent trying to figure out what I need to do next in some desperate attempt to try and be prepared.  Let me just tell you, it is hard to be prepared when you don't know what to prepare for.

But as of tonight... My gowns are washed along with several receiving blankets, burp cloths, blankets and some tiny little baby clothing.  They are folded neatly in a laundry basket just waiting to be put into a bag for the hospital.  The car seat, although not installed into my new car, is downstairs and ready to go.  The baby bassinet is in the bedroom.  The crib is set up, dressed and ready to go, even though it will be a few weeks before our little one lays in it.  The newborn diapers are ready to go.  The nursery, although not 100% perfect is very close to perfect and getting closer everyday.

5 days and counting...  it is so surreal to think that very soon there will be a whole new person around...  a person that we are responsible for and hopefully a person that we can teach not to be scared of clowns-- unlike the dog who is terrified of small children dressed as clowns for Halloween.

Surreal, impossible... truly a miracle and I hope and pray that things go well. 

37 Weeks and Waiting...

So we are a go for a C-Section... in less than two weeks!  Today was our 37 week appointment and to be on the safe side, an ultrasound was scheduled to confirm if Little No Name is upside down like she is supposed to be or right side up like she wants to be. 

Low and behold, she is right side up... as she has been the whole time, as far as I can tell.  We were not able to get any really good shots of her face as her face is facing my spine.  But the utlrasound technician could tell that she has a head full of hair and she weighs about 5 pounds and 15 ounces, this weight does not exactly put her in the top weight percentiles, but seeing how I'm a smaller than average person and Husband is not a huge guy, the doctors' are not concerned.  The ultrasound tech felt for sure that by 39 weeks she'd be around 6 pounds or so... which has been my target goal.

Now we just have to ready ourself for her arrival... putting away the last few baby related items and packing our bags for the hospital stay and deciding on a name...

I'm feeling pretty good these days.  My weight, although much higher that I'm used to seeing on my scales, seems to be well controlled as is my blood pressure. I've, so far, experienced very little swelling and for the most part besides being tired, I'm feeling pretty good.

As we head into another weekend, I'm hoping to get much of my "to-do" list checked off.

Check out our maternity pictures at www.marymephotographyblog.com

Pottery Barn May Be My New Favorite Store...

I ordered a picture frame for the nursery from Pottery Barn.  A basic white frame with a white matte that would perfectly set off the pink graphic print I ordered from Etsy.

Today it arrived. 

Damaged.

The outside shipping box was fine, but the inside box that contained my picture frame looked as if something heavy got the upper left hand corner.  The thin cardboard box was ripped and the bubble wrap that was protecting the frame flattened.  The wooden frame was crushed...

Great.  I thought.  Now I'm going to have to return this frame and wait for a new one.  What a hassle.

So after eating my Bojangles and taking care of a few odds and ends, I pulled up the internet, just as the packing slip recommended and went to the Pottery Barn website to start the return process.

Just Great.  I thought as the little box I was supposed to check, never popped up.  So I called the 1-888 number for customer service.  Just Great!!!!

To my surprise I was promptly connected to a customer service representative.  She was kind, courteous and understanding.  I didn't even have to get ugly... I just gave her my order number and she took down my story recounting the damage.  And get this-- she just told me to discard the current frame, a new one would be sent to me in the next few days!

I don't even have to send it back to the company!  Can you believe it?

I'm in complete and utter shock!!!!  And that is why Pottery Barn may be my new favorite store.

Pottery Barn May Be My New Favorite Store...

I ordered a picture frame for the nursery from Pottery Barn.  A basic white frame with a white matte that would perfectly set off the pink graphic print I ordered from Etsy.

Today it arrived. 

Damaged.

The outside shipping box was fine, but the inside box that contained my picture frame looked as if something heavy got the upper left hand corner.  The thin cardboard box was ripped and the bubble wrap that was protecting the frame flattened.  The wooden frame was crushed...

Great.  I thought.  Now I'm going to have to return this frame and wait for a new one.  What a hassle.

So after eating my Bojangles and taking care of a few odds and ends, I pulled up the internet, just as the packing slip recommended and went to the Pottery Barn website to start the return process.

Just Great.  I thought as the little box I was supposed to check, never popped up.  So I called the 1-888 number for customer service.  Just Great!!!!

To my surprise I was promptly connected to a customer service representative.  She was kind, courteous and understanding.  I didn't even have to get ugly... I just gave her my order number and she took down my story recounting the damage.  And get this-- she just told me to discard the current frame, a new one would be sent to me in the next few days!

I don't even have to send it back to the company!  Can you believe it?

I'm in complete and utter shock!!!!  And that is why Pottery Barn may be my new favorite store.

36 Weeks and Counting...

This weeks marks our entry into the 36th week of pregnancy and with this milestone comes the realization that after this week our baby will be considered full term.  She can come anytime and that will be medically okay... crazy huh?

As we leave the 35th week, I am finding Husband in all out nesting mode and I am finding myself in some strange buying mood, purchasing all sorts of things for the nursery.  I guess we are readying ourselves in very different ways.  As I type there are woven, colorful storage baskets being shipped to the house along with baby clothes hangers, closet labels, a green and white curtain and a coral vase-- although the vase is going in the living room. 

There is also a picture frame coming for the Audrey Hepburn quote that I purchased off of Etsy... there may not be much hanging on the rest of our walls, but there will be things on our daughter's walls.

We still haven't picked a name... which I think is more alarming for our friends and family than it is for us.  In fact, in my passive aggressive way, the more others seem to worry about it, the less I tend to.  A name will be picked, but I doubt it will come to us before she does.

But all this baby preparation, specifically how much time and effort I have put into getting the nursery ready has got me thinking... why don't I spend as much time worrying about all the other rooms in our house?

To my surprise all the rooms in our house are officially filled with some sort of furniture.  By making the guest room the nursery and making the once empty spare room the new guest room, we officially have something in every room... but there is little as far as design goes. 

After the baby comes, I'm hoping that some of my attention will be back on getting our house as wonderful as I think it can be... although I know that that probably won't be as easy as it sounds.

So as Husband hangs lighting fixtures and builds high chairs and baby swings and adds more landscaping to the yard, and I burn a hole into my gold card... our baby is making herself ready.  As far as I can tell she is still breech... so how she gets here is a little questionable at the moment and what she will be called is a little questionable as well.  Regardless, I'm feeling pretty good... pretty calm... pretty relaxed... and I'm hoping that the next few weeks are more of the same.

I'd Tell You, But I Can't Remember...

Busy doesn't begin to describe it... and to top it all off, I can't remember anything.  Apparently "pregnancy brain" is a real phenomenon.  For instance, this week I decided to cook homemade chili.  So Wednesday night I put everything into the crock pot, browned hamburger meat and let it cool and then added it to the other ingredients. 

I put the pot insert into the refrigerator over night and Thursday morning I put the pot into the crock pot base, turned the dial to "low" and headed to work, not giving it another thought in the world.

I had my 34 week doctor's appointment Thursday afternoon.  I drove the new car.  Yes, after several weekends of nothing but car shopping, last Saturday we purchased a larger (see: 4 doors) car.  And while on the Beltline I noticed that the car was making a strange noisy, a noisy that miraculously disappeared (of course) once I got within a 10 mile radius of home.  So now I'm not so sure that I didn't imagine it...  as I drove it today and nothing, nada, zip as far as "the sound" goes.

Nevertheless, I walked into the house expecting to smell the wonderful sent of homemade chili, and instead I just smelled the house.  I thought that was odd.  I immediately walked over to the crock pot.  Had I forgotten to turn it on?  No.  The dial was turned to "low" just as I remembered.  Did I forget to put the pot into the base?  No.  The pot was firmly locked into the base. 

I had forgotten to plug it in...

This last appointment was an interesting one... 34 weeks pregnant and we've learned that the baby is breech.  This doesn't bother me.  But the doctor wanted to let me know that a C-section would be likely if the baby doesn't make a turn in the next couple of weeks. 

I didn't want to seem eager, but the idea of actually knowing when the baby was going to come, seemed attractive, even if the recovery is supposedly more difficult.  I told the doctor, just as I have told many others... as long as the baby can come out safely and we both live to tell about it, I'm fine with whatever.

After all, I'm just a school counselor.  Not a doctor.  To quote a favorite movie of mine, "I don't know nothing about birthing babies."

Oh, did I mention that we dropped out of birthing classes?  Yea... we did.  The third class got blown off for maternity pictures and the fourth class got ditched because Husband was barning tobacco and picking sweet potatoes and couldn't be ready to leave in time.  This last class, which I think was to be a like a "dry-run" of the birthing process (I realize that is probably not a great term to use to describe that particular class) got blown off for a bikini waxing appointment.  I forgot (imagine that) that I had booked the appointment for that particular afternoon and since Husband was still barning tobacco and picking sweet potatoes, I decided to keep the appointment and just pick up some food on the way home. 

We ate, I got a shower and I went to bed... at like 8:30pm.  I've never done that before.  I'm exhausted.

My best friend had a beautiful baby boy on her due date two weeks ago.  I'm pleased to report that she got through the labor and delivery with little to no problems.  It is reassuring that we too just might get through this...

This weekend is our first baby shower and I'm looking forward to seeing everyone and spending some time with family and friends.

I think that about catches everyone up... I'm going to have to start remembering to document more because at this rate, I may forget! 

30 Weeks: Things We Now Know...

At 30 weeks we now know some more things about Little No Name that we did not know a few weeks ago.

1.  She looks an awful lot like her daddy.  She has his nose and we think she may have a cleft in her chin as well.

2.  She is camera shy.  She keeps her hands (and feet) in her face a lot (which is why we can't tell for sure if she has a cleft in her chin or not.)  We had to do two different 3D-4D ultrasound sessions!

3.  She has pout-y lips... Husband doesn't and I don't really posses this trait either, but my father does, so I'm claiming this trait for my side.

4.  She has my long toes...the trademark long middle toe that towers over the "big toe."

Things have been going pretty well lately besides being extra tired.  We started birthing classes last week and we are well on our way to getting the nursery together.  I finally decided on a crib mattress and I finally ordered the crib bedding.  This past weekend I took the bedding swatches to my favorite fabric store and picked out fabric for the glider rocker I want to recover and a fabric for the curtain panels I want my grandma to make.

Things are coming together!  I want to get a rug maybe, this really cute vintage chest I found at a local store (if it is still there), a new lighting fixture and possibly a bookcase for display.  Still a lot to do, but we are making progress.

I'm thoroughly disgusted from last night's birthing class.  The image of a large half naked woman hanging from a metal pole while pushing out her baby is burned into my brain.  Last night was birth video time.  I've decided that the moment that this is suggested as a pushing technique I should consider... well, that is when I request an operating room and a C-section.  However, I seriously doubt any doctor would willingly want to see that either-- I think it has more to do with the hippie-dippy Douala and that woman's medicine free birth.

We got to take a tour of the birthing center as well and I never once saw the metal pole hanging over any hospital bed.  The "natural childbirth" couple however did ask where it was because, of course, she wants one.  Apparently they hide them in a closet somewhere.

Recently, I learned that 10 extra pounds means I can't wear 6 inch heels all day long and not have sore feet by 3:30pm.  I have resorted to wearing lower heels or (gasp) flats(!) to work.  A pair of flats is in my pocketbook everyday, just in case.

So I think that catches everyone up on where things stand at the moment...  Have a good one!

28 Weeks: Sick, Sicker, Sickest...

The mouse massacre in my car's A/C was not the only surprise we came home to after spending a couple of days at the beach.  No, Husband brought home a cold and since Saturday week, we've been busy passing that sucker around the neighborhood.

Saturday, when I was discovering my latest kill, Husband was coming down with a sore throat.  By Monday he was in the throws of a full blown head and chest cold.  I did my best to stay away... but by Friday afternoon I, too, was starting to feel the beginnings of a sore throat.  Since Sunday I've been feeling a little lot less than human.

Apparently this is one of the most contagious colds known to man.  Since coming down with the cold, Husband has passed it to his brother and cousin.  I was his latest victim... however he believes that it is likely that I could have caught it from my sister, who also has had the cold and was sick enough that she was throwing up and missed two days of work.  She passed it to her husband and I believe that I have passed it to a co-worker.  If I had known I had the bug on Thursday, I would have not sat with her during our back-to-school meeting.

I think the orginal carrier monkey was the little boy who was at the beach... I don't remember him being sick, but I do recall some instances of a runny and snotty nose, a couple temper tantrums that could have been a tell-tale sign of a cold and a few unfortunate snot-rocketed sneezes--unfortunate because of one which sneeze landed on a certain cousin of mine.

Carrier monkey or not, there must be something going around.  At the doctor's office today for my 28 week check-up it was mentioned that several people have complained of a cold.  So my theory might be busted...

As for my 28 week check-up, besides not feeling 100%, things are looking good.  Little No Name had a really strong heartbeat-- like 160 beats per minute!  My belly is measuring right on track, which I think surprised my doctor because I've not gained a huge amount of weight and I'm a smaller than average sized human being.  That being said, 107.4 pounds (my current weight) is the most I have ever weighed in my entire life.

She had warned me that I might start measuring small, but because I'm petite in frame and height, that it was to be expected.  If I start to measure small, they may start doing more ultrasounds to verify that things are still progressing on track... which is absolutely fine with me!  The more ultrasounds, the better as this is one of those times where 'less' is not more... especially when you are a nervous, worry-wort of a first timer like me!

This appointment was my last 'once a month' appointment.  From now on I will start seeing the doctors about twice a month or every two weeks.  During my final month they will bump me up to once a week.  Even though it is a little scary to think that I'm in my third and final trimester, it makes me so happy to be seeing the doctor more often.  I even joked with the doctor today that I'd like to have a window installed in my belly so I can just look down and check to make sure Little No Name is doing okay.  I figure that they can do this to cows' stomachs up at State University to watch digestion, then why not a 28 week pregnant person who wants to watch development?

My next appointment will be an exciting one as we will get to do the 3D/4D ultrasound.  Our first birth class will also be this same week... yes, we bit the bullet and have decided to join up.  But that, my friends is a story for another day.

You Dirty Rat...

Well, more accurately--mouse.

The phone rang at 4:41pm.  A number I didn't recognize appeared on my Blackberry screen.  Deep breath.  It was the mechanic.  (Cue ominous music)

"Hi Emily.  It's Daniel at Family Tire."  Oh, great.  I thought to myself.  What is he going to tell me?  I muttered an, 'oh hey.' 

After what seemed like a long pause, Daniel continued, "Your car is ready to be picked up."  I quickly asked my next question in shock that my issue had been resolved so soon.

"Well, what was it?" Half afraid to know I sort of squinted my eyes and looked at my floor, ashamed that something had chosen my car as it's final resting place.  Over the years I had killed many things with my car-- a little girl's puppy on the first day of school, two black cats at the same time trying to cross a rural road, a crane, and let us not forget the night I hit and killed the deer.  Yes, me and the Civic were a lethal combination.  But in all our happy years together, mowing down unsuspecting animals I never once considered the idea of killing one that called ye ole' Civic home.

"It was a rat."  I could hear the smile.  "It was chopped up pretty good.  But we got 'em out and cleaned the system up real good.  You probably are still going to have smell for a couple of days, but we deodorized and put some air freshener in your car.  The smell should be gone once it airs out."

"Okay, thank you," That is what I meant to say.  Instead of think I responded in a very sophistocated, "Gross!"

I was comforted to know that he agreed with my sentiment.  It was gross. 

About an hour later, standing in the waiting area of Family Tire and Auto, Daniel's dad told me that the animal had made a home in the A/C and had been going in and out probably for sometime.  As he was explaining that it was by far not the worse case he's ever seen-- a case that involved a rotting piece of chicken wedged between two seat cushions was by far much worse-- Daniel and another unidenitified young man gleefully entered into the waiting area caring a blank envelope.  Inside the envelope was my latest kill-- the lower two thirds of a little mouse.

It is amazing to me that something that was less than a couple of inches in length and probably weighed less than a ounce, if even that, can create such a horrible smell.  And more over, if that tiny little body can smell that bad, imagine how bad a big body must smell?  It is truly a wonder to me that dead bodies can go unnoticed at all.

In the end, I paid my bill and took my car home.  I left it running in the driveway with the window's down and the air conditioner full blast for a good thirty minutes to help it air itself out.  The smell, especially in the humid August air, is still very unpleasant, but at least the rotting carcass is out and things should start to go back to normal... I hope.

Soon we will be looking for a new car, and this little incident has made me more motivated to find another...  I just don't know that I can ever feel the same about the Civic after knowing that something crawled up and died inside it... I'm sure you'd feel the same if something crawled up and died in your car.

The Unmistakable Smell of Death...

We spent most of last week living in a yellow and purple beach mansion... a real life sand castle that my Uncle and Aunt rented for the entire week.  They have perfect timing in that this week will be the start of yet another school year. 

This year we were actually able to get away from Wednesday through Saturday, which is a pretty big deal seeing how Husband is a tobacco farmer and tobacco farmers generally do not get that many days in a row to be away from their crops.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good vacation.  I got to spend some time with my family which was wonderful.  It is an exciting time for our family... my cousin is marrying a really great guy this coming Spring, another is about to move into a place of her own, two are just before graduating from college with engineering degrees, and we are about to add to the size of the clan with a baby... so with all these happy changes, it is nice to be able to spend some time together and reconnect.

Saturday we returned home and immediately I got busy unpacking our suitcase and toiletry bag.  By six o'clock that afternoon I had everything washed and put away only to realize that I badly needed to make a quick trip to the grocery store.  I sat down and made a quick list, called Husband to see what he needed and headed to the garage.

Tuesday had been a busy day for me.  I had an appointment with the dentist that morning, followed by an emergency hair removal trip that afternoon, as pregnancy prevents me from being able to do my own waxing-- you sort of need to be able to see what you're doing, especially when it involves hot wax.

Of course my dentist appointment took longer than expected which did not leave me much time to get from Smithfield to my next destination.  I made it to my waxing appointment on-time without a moment to spare, but that meant skipping lunch, which can be a little unnerving when you are six months pregnant.

Regardless, after one of the best waxing appointments I've ever had, I quickly made it to a Burger King and got myself a burger.  I'm not sure if it was the hunger or the food, but it was really, really good. 

I next went to my mom's house to pick up a bill for Husband and on the way home my air conditioning started to make a strange sound.  A loud clicking to be more accurate.  I happened to be on the phone with Husband and he could hear it when I held my phone to the vent.  As we were talking I turned up the A/C dial and the sound got louder, then followed by sound-- something akin to paper being sucked through a vacuum.  The sound stopped and Husband said that it probably was a piece of paper that got caught in the vent. 

I paid little attention to the smell the vent was putting off-- a mild sweet smell as I thought it probably was the Burger King bag that had been sitting in my hot car.

The next day I followed Husband to carry his truck for a tune up.  I noticed that the smell was still present, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant, just different.  When Husband sat down in my passenger seat, I mentioned that my A/C smelled different, but we were both quick to point out that it was probably just my super human sense of smell brought own by all the pregnancy hormones coursing through my body, because he didn't smell a thing.

Upon arriving at home, I parked my car safely in our two car garage and forgot about the strange clicking sound and the strange smell and started packing like a mad woman because we were to leave after lunch at it was already 1:30.

So Saturday I went into the garage and opened my car door.  I was hit by a wave of stale, hot air that smelled very much like the unmistakable smell of death. 

I sat down in the car, cranked it up, hoping that getting the air flowing would help the smell.  It didn't.  I backed the car out into the driveway and popped the hood expecting to find a dead something... nothing seemed out of place.  Husband had gone to work and so I called and told him what was going on.  He of course, couldn't help me.  I called my father, who had always taken a more active interest in my car, as he is the one that bought and picked it out for me when I was 16.

He said it probably was a rusted out coil and that what I was smelling was antifreeze.  I drove with my windows down and sun roof open to the grocery store, purchased what I needed, and quickly got the groceries in the boot, rolled down the windows and sun roof again, thankfully there was nothing wrong with the electrical system and headed home.

After unloading the groceries, Husband came home and popped the hood.  He saw nothing unusual and other than the smell, which he said did not remind him of antifreeze, he was at a loss as to what to do next.

An hour or so later, Mama and Daddy were in our driveway inspecting the car.  Daddy confirmed it, it had to be a dead something, probably a mouse or something small that could easily find it's way into an A/C.

I'll be the first to admit, that this summer I'd done very little driving and the likelihood of something finding it's way into my car is likely, but really?  I've had this car for a really long time.  The worst thing that had ever gone wrong with it was when a spark plug cable got messed up and caused the engine to not run properly.  It was an easy fix.

From what I've read on the Internet, this is not going to be an easy problem to fix.  This morning my car went to the shop to be repaired.  I need my car by Thursday morning... and I'm hoping that it will be fixed and normal smelling by then. 

I find this so ironic, because over our beach trip it was mentioned that I would have to get a new car for the baby.  My two door car is not really practical after all.  I mentioned how I dreaded getting a new car as my car had been so good to me and that I would not get rid of it, ever!  143,000 miles and still going strong, 13 years later...  when I didn't have the baby with me I'd surely be driving it over the new car.

Now I'm a little more motivated to get a new car that doesn't smell like death... I'll keep you posted on what the poor mechanic finds.

What Do You Really Want?: No to be asked what I really want...

Husband has a huge family.  His dad came from a large family and they are all still very close.  Over the years the family has gotten even bigger as, I'm convinced, they are the most fertile people to ever grace the face of this Earth.

At the last baby shower for Husband's cousin a little over a month ago, the family decided to buy one large present together, this way the the couple didn't get a bunch of things that they either A) already had and would have to return or B) didn't need and would have to return.  So they purchased a piece of furniture that the couple had registered for to put in the new baby's nursery.

Swell idea.  Thoughtful even.  But that is just how they are and that is one of the things I love about them the most... they are practical.

So today when my mother-in-law called me and wanted to know what we wanted them to get us for our baby, I was a little unprepared as to what to tell her.  It was 10am in the morning and perfectly cool in my house... yet I was just before dripping sweat at the idea of having to come up with something for them to purchase for us-- for our baby.

I swiftly directed her to our baby registries, excepting the BabyLi.st because that would have required me verbally giving an internet link over the phone and I'm positive that they wouldn't have gone over well.  Tell me the last time you gave out a long link to someone over the phone with multiple back-slashes and dashes and it didn't confuse someone.  This way the Aunts and Uncles can figure out what big ticket item they'd like for us to have instead of me having to demand it.

Sure I love, love, love the woven storage baskets at Serena and Lily that match our baby bedding.  But they are almost $300 dollars and even though they may or may not want to spend that much, I would never ask for them to purchase them in a million years because it should be their choice, not mine... and for baskets, that is expensive... they are pretty, but they are expensive.  And being practical people, I doubt spending any kind of cash on that sort of item would not be a good thing in their mind or many others for that matter.

I'll be the first to admit, my communication skills are bad.  I'm one of thoes people that would rather give the gift than receive the gift, I'd rather not be the center of attention, and for the most part, I like to do things myself.  That being said, I think it is so touching when someone wants to do something nice for me or Husband or now, the baby.  It blows me away that people would even think to offer such and that kind of love and support means so much to me, it is hard to write down exactly how much it means.

Am I the only person that feels this way? 

No News IS Good News...

My glucose test was on Monday... today is Thursday and my doctor's office never called with the results.  I took this as a good sign that nothing was wrong with me and I was, in fact, gestational diabetes free.  With the one hour test they had called in less than 24 hours.

I had thought about calling the doctor's office in the morning to see what was going on, but I decided just a few minutes ago that I would be brave and call and find out.  No more waiting!  Turns out no news is good news.  I passed the test.  Thank Goodness! 

All my blood draws were in range except one-- the third and final draw was a little high.  But one being a little high was perfectly acceptable as I only had to pass three of the four.  The nurse told me to just be cautious when it comes to my sugar consumption, but my doctor was not concerned and that was all I needed to hear.

I don't think my sugar consumption is out of control.  Although I do love sweet treats, I limit my intake and I have gone back to my habit of drinking unsweet tea (although I only drink one glass a day of anything caffenated if that).

So I finally have my answer and I'm relieved that I'm not going to have to prick my finger and keep glucose journals and risk having a more complicated pregnancy, labor and delivery.

Now I can stop obsessing over blood glucose levels and start focusing on why my swatches from Serena and Lily have yet to arrive...

Three Hour Glucose Test: Waiting Around...

Friday I got a call from my doctor's office, early in the morning.  I failed my 1 hour glucose challenge test with a 174.  The cut off was 140.  The nurse called it "slightly elevated" but I'd call it high.  I'm no math major, but last time I checked 174 is a ways away from 140.  I immediately started to feel "funny."  This was the same morning that my loving husband went to the dentist, got a good report (something that rarely happens for him at the dentist) and to celebrate decided to purchase a bunch of sugary treats from the local bakery.  His farming cohorts got donuts... I got an oatmeal cookie.

And even though I got the devastating news that I was going to have to take the 3 hour glucose test, I still had to eat a little bit of that cookie. And as soon as I ate a few bites I started to feel "funny" again.  And irritable.

I'm the type of person that jumps the gun.  I immediately started to think about gestational diabetes and how I have it... and how much I hate hurting myself... and how much I hate getting my finger pricked... and how much I really love sugar.

So on Monday, bright and early, I went for the 3 hour test.  I had to starve myself starting at 12am.  At 11:30pm, Sunday night, I ate a little bit of cheese and went to bed.  I woke up and immediately felt hungry.  Great, I thought, here we go.  How am I ever going to last without eating a little something?

When I arrived at the doctors office, I was sent back to the lab and the vampire (I realize that vampire is not the correct term for this person's job, but it is easier to spell than the correct term) took my baseline.  Then she gave me the sugary glucose drink.  I had to down it in 5 minutes and then return to the lab in an hour. 

The first hour was uncomfortable.  I was no longer hungry.  I took a few small sips of water to get the fruit punch taste out of my mouth and to make my throat a little less sore.  We (my mom came with me in case I got sick) walked to the car, sat outside on a bench.  She read a book.  I read a book.  I went to the bathroom.  Apparently sugary drinks make my stomach hurt. 

Before I knew it was time for another blood draw.  Then it was more of the same.  The nice little vampire told me to come back in another hour.  I still wasn't hungry.  It was more of the same.  We walked to the car.  We sat on the bench outside.  We watched a new mom being wheeled out of the Women's Center next door.  My mom commented on how scary that feeling was... being allowed to carry your baby home for the first time. 

We read books.  I went to the bathroom.  Sugary drinks really do make my stomach hurt.

At 11:20 I went for the 3rd (of 4) blood draw.  The vampire and me were becoming good friends.  She debated on which arm to use and commented in disbelief at the bruise I had from Wednesday's blood draw.  She talked about how she was left handed just like me.  She commented on how our birthday's were just one day apart.  We even talked about her boyfriend a little.  Apparently he is a hypochondriac too.

She sent me away, only to return for my final blood draw in, you guessed it, an hour.  By this time my stomach was starting to feel better and I was getting a little tired.  Waiting is never fun and getting up as early as I did was probably starting to take its toll... and even though the book I was reading was interesting, it was not helping to make the time go faster.  I went to the bathroom for the fourth time that morning.  A friend texted me a little bit asking about acupuncture.  That helped to make the last hour go by quicker.

12:20pm I went back for the final draw.  Strangely, I felt like I had really accomplished something.  I expressed my concern of the test being positive to the Vampire.  I might be a masochist, but I'm far from ever being a sadist.  The thought of hurting myself is more than I can take and the idea of pricking my finger multiple times a day is just scary as hell.  She laughed.  She pointed out that knowing and controlling gestational diabetes is better than not.  She's right.  I still don't have to be happy about it though.

She told me that the office would call with the results in a couple of days.  I still wasn't hungry but I was ready to leave the doctor's office. 

Now I have to wait to see what's going on or what is not going on.  I'm hoping that I'm gestational diabetes free, but if not, I'd like to know so I can do what I need to do to keep the baby and myself healthy.

I expect to hear something tomorrow.  So stay tuned for updates...  Un-pricked fingers crossed for luck!

Baby Registries for the Anti-Social...

I've started creating baby registries.  I spent most of Tuesday night in a panic because it seemed almost every other pregnant person I knew has already created theirs. 
Let me preface this by saying I'm not a joiner.  It appears that the the husband is not a joiner either.  But a couple of weeks ago, against my nature, I joined www.thebump.com and ever since I've been regretting it.  Majorly.

The problem... they have this checklist and baby due date timeline (plus a lot of articles about post-partum crotch care that really freak me out).  Apparently we are well past the half-way mark.  Yikes.  And according to the checklist, I'm way behind.  I hate www.thebump.com.

According to www.thebump.com I should have already found a pediatrician and I should have already created registries.  I do have a pediatrician in mind, but I've not committed to anything yet.  Apparently you have the option of participating in orientation style classes at the pediatrician's office and I'd rather not.  I feel the same way about birthing classes. 

My birth plan:  get the baby out of me as safely as possible, with the least amount of damage possible, while I feel the least amount of pain possible and we all live to tell about it.  It is a good plan.

And yes, I'm open to all sorts of drugs.  Gas me in the parking lot if you have to.

But because the Husband and I have these personality defects that keep us from wanting to socialize with our peer group or any other group for that matter, I could not see myself walking around the local Toy's R Us with a registry gun picking out things that we think we might need for Little No Name while strangers come up and touch my every growing belly and congratulate us.

So I'm doing it online and surprisingly I'm loving it!  Although this registry process I think is turning me into some sort of communist or at the very least a socialist.  After researching strollers and play yards and 3-in-1 high chairs, baby swings, and baby gyms I think there should only be one choice and that's it. 

Why do they offer 14 different types of baby bottles?  Why is there 19 different types of diaper rash creams?  Why are there 5 pages or more of baby bathtubs on Target.com?

Nevertheless, I finally decided to do a registry at Target and Babies R Us (even though Target has a horrible return policy and the closest Babies R Us is about an hour away and most people just buy the baby what they want the baby to have, rendering the whole baby registry thing a little unnecessary) and www.babyli.st which allows you to add items from any website regardless of whether or not the store has a registry database (like Etsy or Serena & Lily).  I also like that if I happen to stumble upon something I'd like for Little No Name all I have to do is press a button on our toolbar and BAM! it's added.  So easy and I love it!  We even have our own web address so our friends and family can access it... http://babyli.st/loren-and-emilys-baby-list

I'm still working on them... but at least I'm not dragging Husband all over creation trying to figure out what we need.  This way, at home and on line, I can read what other people think about the items... people that have actually had children before and know what is good and what is a complete waste of time and money, all while in my pj's!

Week 24 Update:  The baby is doing great according to the doctors.  We had our monthly doctor's appointment on Wednesday.  Little No Name's got a strong heartbeat--160 beats per minute.  Right now I'm hoping that I haven't failed the Glucose Challenge test... because that would mean chugging more sugary drinks and getting stuck with needles for blood draws every hour on the hour for 3 hours and then possibly diabetes.  No thank you! 

She moves around a lot.  I seem to notice it more when I get still, which I'm told is normal.  According to What to Expect she weighs about a 1 1/2 pounds and is about as long as a standard letter.  I think that that must be an average.  Husband and I are short people, so I wouldn't be surprised if she not quite that long.

Dragons Hate Dogs, Just as Tigers Hate Cinnamon...

Let me start by saying, we're not Asian and neither one of us ascribe to the Chinese Zodiac... but lately I've been hearing about how great it is to be having a baby this particular Zodiac year.  For those of you not in Asia nor of the Asian persuasion, apparently having a baby during this year, the year of the Dragon, is a big deal.  Like a huge-run-out-and-get-pregnant-deal... that is, if you're Asian and/or ascribe the the beliefs of the Chinese Zodiac.

According to what little research I've done on the matter, having a Dragon baby means that the child will be successful, lucky, and an all-round winner!  People all over Asia having been rushing around trying to get pregnant so they too can have a lucky Dragon baby. 

Around the time that I was getting married, five years ago, I did some research on the Chinese Zodiac because I had heard getting married during the year of the Rooster was bad luck... so I did a quick check to make sure that we were, in fact, not getting married during an unlucky Rooster year.  We got married during the year of the Pig. 

By looking up this information, I learned that the Husband and I are both Dogs.  Being a Dog, I felt, was a good thing.  We are, according to the Internet, laid back, loyal, good tempered, smart... basically all the qualities you want in a good Lab.

So for about five years or so, I've not thought much about the specific Zodiac years.  After all, I knew about as much as I needed to know... the Husband and I were Dogs.  We married during a Pig year.  My parents are Monkeys and Roosters... I think my sister might be a Rat.  And our baby will be a lucky Dragon.

The bad news... Dragons hate Dogs, just as Tigers hate cinnamon.  I'm trying not to focus on this little tidbit of information.  I realize that just because it says that we are in for a rough ride, doesn't mean that it will happen. 

I fully expect for us to have our moments.  There will be days that she will hate us.  And for that matter, there will be days that I'm sure that we won't be so happy with her.  What I I'm sure about is that in the next few days I'll forget about all this non-sense.  In less than a month I'll be back at work and I can assure you the only dog I'll be worried about is Buddy...

And a lucky Dragon is a lucky Dragon even if it is raised by a pair of Dogs or a pair of Pigs or any of the other signs.... Right?

Baby, Baby, Baby: 22 Week Update...

Meet the baby... Isn't she cute? 

I've been really loving the whole pregnancy thing recently, minus the increased sense of smell.  The cantaloupe Husband brought home is currently stinking up the entire refrigerator... I don't see how anyone eats something that smells so bad!

Regardless, being pregnant recently hasn't been bad at all.  The baby is moving a lot, especially late at night.  And sometimes I can feel her bumping around in there on the outside, which is good because finally Husband can get in on the action... that is, when she cooperates.  According to the baby books and, of course, the Internet the baby can recognize light and dark and can even hear sounds... pretty cool huh?

This week I experienced my first irrational meltdown that I'm positive was hormone fueled.  Of all things, a conversation with my mother about baby bedding was the culprit that left me crying, off and on, for a good hour.  Baby bedding!  Husband thought it was the funniest thing ever... he'd mention bedding and I'd break down and in between wiping tears and sucking snot, I'd say, "I don't know what is wrong with me... I know I sound crazy!" and he'd just laugh-- at me.

But luckily that meltdown did help me make up my mind (a mind that has been anything but easy to make up recently) and I think I'm a little closer to committing to a bedding set.  I've decided to quit fighting my instincts and just go with where the pink and green leads me.

Now, if I could just find a maternity bathing suit that doesn't look like a car cover, I'd be in business!

Pregnancy Complaint, Number 556...

So lately I've had very little complaints about being in this "delicate" condition.  As soon as the-never-ending-morning-sickness abated, life has been pretty good and the complaining-- much to the Husband's pleasure and probably everyone elses'--stopped.

But just tonight as I walked into my freshly cleaned kitchen to get a glass of lemonade because I can't get enough lemonade these days, I realized that I'm tried of my super-human sense of smell.  Word on the street... pregnancy makes your ability to smell things like 100% stronger.  Let me just go on the record and say: I. AM. OVER. IT.

I have found that everything has a scent... everything!  And let me just say, very few things have a pleasing odor.  VERY. FEW. THINGS.

At this rate my year supply of trash bags is going to run out in the next few weeks as my new favorite request of Husband is, "Can you take the trash out?"

At this point offensive smells-- of any kind-- produce strange reactions in me that involve an almost "fight or flight" reaction.  Sometimes I get mad about the offensive odors and want to seriously injure the person or the thing responsible...most of these outbursts are aimed at close loved-ones, like poor Husband.  And then, sometimes I have the urge to run as far away from the odor as I possibly can... most of which are odors made from trashcans, nature, and strangers that wouldn't take kindly to my beating them with the heel of my hand or kicking them under the bed sheet while they laugh uncontrollably because farting in bed is supposedly funny.

So tonight, I did not attack the trashcan, but instead I quickly took myself to the safety of our living room and put in the 3rd request this week to the Husband to take out the trash.  He always takes it out too.

But what I don't understand, why would nature make it so pregnant people would get this added bonus of an increased sense of smell?  What purpose does it serve?  I don't see how being the first to realize that the person standing beside you in the checkout line neglected to bathe before anyone else is going to help create a strong and healthy baby. 

Let me just conclude by saying: the grocery store is a stinky, stinky place...

I'm Not Sure I'm Qualified to Answer That Question...

This morning I was watching an old re-run of "Designing Women."  It was the one where Quint, Mary Jo's son, was curious about where babies come from and that got me thinking... one day we will have to explain to Little No Name about how she came into being.

I imagine the conversation will go a little like this: "Well, Little No Name--you know you really need to pick a name for yourself by the way--when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much they take themselves down to the fertility doctor and he puts the baby in the mommy's stomach..."

Nursery 101...

So I'm ready to start tackling the baby's nursery.  For months now, that has been the last thing on my mind... and I was starting to worry that I'd never find the want or the motivation.  A few weeks ago, I felt like something was majorly wrong with me because my mother-in-law had picked out fabric and was talking about painting her crib for her house. Listening to her plans that she was making for my baby, well-- it made me want to turn inside out... just one more area that I'm defective in--parenting!  I knew I needed to get a crib and I knew that she would need certain items, but for the most part, I've been less than interested in turning the guest bedroom into a baby nursery.

I think this "lack of motivation" is a common problem with women who have undergone fertility treatments.  For months and years you start to think that you aren't meant to have babies and because of the nature of each cycle, you get your hopes up only to have them taken away-- and you have no physical way of controlling it... which is so frustrating.  So I think it is only natural that one's thought process tends to lean towards the idea of, "good things will be taken away from me" which creates a self-protecting mental construct:  Don't get too excited about this good thing because it may get taken away from you!

But I'm pressing forward and I'm finding myself increasingly interested in creating a nursery for the baby.  Here's what I do know:

1) I do not want to paint the nursery room.  Our house is brand new and the paint color in that room is neutral.  I was talking with my contractor over the holiday and he suggested keeping the color as is and when the baby is older and the house is older, painting then as she goes from baby to toddler.

2) I have a built-in desk in the nursery room that I would like to use as either a changing table or an organizational area for assorted baby items.

3) I want the nursery to have an elcetic feel that does not neccessarily scream: BABY'S ROOM! when you walk the door... meaning, I want a collection of new and antique furniture and I plan to use broad range of colors, rather than design around a certain theme.

Knowing these three important factors, I also would like to steer clear of overly-girlie decorations.  But that is easier said than done, as I am naturally attracted to pinks and greens and frilly, girlie things.

I think the first step is to decide on a color palette that I really like, that the Husband can tolerate, and go from there.  I think if we were having a boy, I'd try really hard to put my influence into the room to keep it from being overly masculine.  Therefore, I think it is important to put some gender-neutral influences into the room so Husband is not completely left out.  Ideally, I'd like to take some of our interests and early influences and put these into the room. 

I really like the idea of putting wedding pictures in the room, maybe even a maternity session-- if we get around to that.  I have seen some really cool, and cheap, art installations that I'd also like to incoportate with sewing hoops, fabric and cheap picture frames.  I'd include pictures, but I'd like to avoid getting lost in Google Images and online bulletin boards... I did that most of last night.

But at least I've got a start...  and that is so much better than nothing.

Adventures in Maternity Clothing...

My sister suggested that I buy a Belly Band because her friend really liked using one when she was pregnant.  And of course I was really not excited about wearing a stretchy waist band around my midsection when I was basically flat stomached for the first 13 weeks or so.  I had it in my mind that a belly band would be 1) uncomfortable, 2) hot, 3) restrictive... and I could go on.

But when I realized that finding maternity shorts that didn't look like camp counselor shorts was going to be next to impossible, the idea of wearing a belly band as a method to hold up my regular skinny girl shorts wasn't such a bad idea. I bit the bullet this past Saturday as the temperature and the humidity quickly rose above 105 degrees.

The majority of maternity shorts come in three exciting camp counselor colors:  khaki, black, and white.  Many of them are cargo in nature.  Apparently, not just cute, trendy, sophistocated little girls like me get pregnant, but so do out-dated, frumpy, utility workers as well... utility workers that would want camp counselor shorts.
There are some maternity shorts that come in fun colors-- but many of those are colored jean shorts, colored jean shorts with cuffed bottoms... and I don't wear cuffs or jean shorts.

So the belly band is holding up my shorts for me... my unbuttoned and sometimes unzipped shorts and suprisingly I'm loving it.  Being able to wear my normal clothing makes me very happy.

On the opposite end of the dressing field-- my upper half---I really like the maternity tee shirts.  They have this handy little gathered side that seems add a little interest to a plain tee-shirt and emphasize the ever-present, ever-growing baby bump in a nice way.

So to wrap-up, I would recommend a belly band, especially if you find yourself pregnant during the hottest part of summer and the only alternative is camp counselor shorts and you aren't down with the khaki, white and/or black color choices... and really want to wear your normal clothing.

Dining in Style...

So around the time I started looking for a couch... which was probably a little over a year ago... I also saw a dining room suite that I really liked.  At the time, purchasing a major furniture group was not something I wanted to tackle. 

Dining room furniture, especially formal dining room furniture is not the sort of thing one rushes into buying.  Buying a dining room suite is one of the most adult purchases you are going to make.  It goes like this:  1) house, 2) car, 3) dining room suite.  So maybe not always in that order... but you get what I mean.  This is not a impulse buy... this has to be well thought out and considered for many months... at least when you're me.

For me I was not interested in an overly ornate suite nor did I want an overly traditional suite as my taste tends to lend towards to more contemporary-traditional than traditional.  Most of what I have looked at over the last year has not been formal enough or was the complete opposite-- very heavy in appearance and overly decorated with brass hardware and bold carvings.

A little over a year ago, I saw the above suite from Better Homes and Gardens Fine Furniture by Universal at Whitley Galleries.  I immediately was drawn to the X-back chairs and how that detail was mirrored in the hutch.  Another plus-- the hardware on the suite was not bright brass and very minimal in size and scale.  My walls in my dining room are metallic silver and in my opinion bright brass hardware would not be as nice next to metallic silver walls.

So when I got a letter in the mail advertising a sale at Whitley Galleries, I jumped on the idea of finally getting the above suite.

But then I got to Whitley Galleries and they didn't have any pieces of the suite on the showroom floor except the round version of this table and the captain chairs that I was not interested in purchasing.  The idea of buying something that I haven't seen in well over a year, except in pictures didn't appeal to me.  We've got to buy a crib and baby bedding and all sorts of other things and putting money down, hard earned money, on something sight-unseen... well, that wasn't going to happen.

I was depressed about the situation... I felt like I had missed my chance at a really good deal on the one dining room suite that I actually liked.  So my mother suggested that I call around and see if there were any other furinture companies that carried this brand or particular suite... if nothing else, I'd get to see it again and really decide if it was the one I wanted to get...eventually.

Turns out Bullard Furniture had the hutch and buffet in stock and on the showroom floor... and they were having a very similar sale as Whitley Galleries... so I decided to bite the bullet and purchase the dining room suite, of course after going and seeing it.

I'm excited to say that by the end of the summer I will have my hutch and buffet (coming next week) and I will have my table and six side chairs!  I'm so happy this worked out and I can finally check this off my house list.

On to nursery...

And the Waiting Ends...

So week 20 sort of sneaked up on me.  And for the most part I was so distracted with the idea of purchasing a dining room suite, maternity shorts and an inflatable pool that I barely paid any attention at all to week 19.

Since being pregnant and feeling very sick almost everyone supportively told me that during the 2nd trimester I'd experince the "Honeymoon" phase of being pregnant.  I half-heartedly believed them... being as sick feeling as I was, I didn't think I'd ever start to feel normal again.  I remember my friend, who is about 10 weeks ahead of me, telling me that if she didn't have the ever-present baby bump, she'd not even feel pregnant.

I remember thinking, while she told me this too-good-to-be-true news, "Liar."  It seemed to me at the time, she had had it much better than me, so at best I'd probably start to feel mildly better--if at all.  But sometime around week 13 or so, things started to get better.  And I'm pleased to say that in the last three weeks I've not thrown up or been nausous or anything... and I feel so much better physically.  And sometimes, I even forget that there is a baby growing in my belly.

But yesterday we got confirmation and a rather visual reminder, that there is indeed a baby in there.  Yesterday was the anatomy ultrasound that would among other things, determine our baby's gender.  We are not the variety that wanted to wait to find out if we are having a boy or a girl.  After going through infertility, I don't think we are much on suspense.  I guess for normal couples that get pregnant easily and "I can get pregnant?" is never a question, then waiting just might be their cup of tea.  For us, those of us that spend months and years wondering... we learn to dislike the waiting and therefore when the ultrasound technician waved her wand to just the right spot, we wanted to know.

There would be no silly gender reveal party.  There would be no waiting.  So at 20 weeks and 1 day of being pregnant, yesterday we found out that we are having a... Girl! 

We both thought that we'd be having a boy.  Not that we were sold on a boy... again, after going through infertility, the goal is to have a healthy baby regardless of the gender.  But from the moment we embarked on the IVF journey, everything has been a boy.  The nurse and I would joke about the little guys on the monitoring screen when referring to my eggs.  When the embryos were replaced, again they were boys.... at least in my mind.  And from the moment we found out we were pregnant, the only thing that made sense to me was that we were going to have a boy.

All my stuffed animals were boys... Mr. Pillow, my oldest object and most important object that I'm unnaturally attached to, is a boy... 

So boy, was I wrong.

The girl is about 16 oz. in weight and is 19 weeks and 6 days along according to the technician.  We saw the right amount of toes and fingers and everything seems to be in working order, which is good to know...

In the meantime, besides waiting for my dining room suite to arrive, figuring out my new maternity "look" and trying to tan the baby bump in the blow-up pool I now get to start pulling together my nursery for the baby girl.

Just to Catch You Up...

My summer vacation has officially started now that the wedding is behind me.  Yes, I survived directing my friend's wedding and surprisingly, I'd be happy to do it again!  I had been really dreading the whole process, worried that I'd find a way to mess something up and ruin my friend's happy day. 

I'm not going to say that it went off 100% perfect.  We all know that isn't possible.  The parents' were a little delayed in getting seated because the flower girl pushed the emergency button in the elevator... the elevator that contained the bride and the mother of the groom.  When you push the emergency button it stops the elevator and immediately dials 911. 

Besides the mother's seating being delayed the bell ringer did not chime the hour and about that time, an usher tripped on something causing a loud noise.  Again... nothing is going to go 100% perfect and those were the only things that didn't go off perfectly. 

The bride was beautiful.  The groom was happy, laughing and smiling through most of the ceremony.  The reception was lovely... all in all, I'd call it a success!

And with the wedding officially behind me, I feel 100% much more relaxed. 

This week marks the 18th week of pregnancy.  For the most part I'm feeling really good.  For the last couple of weeks I've felt much more myself and my appetite is finally returning to what it was pre-pregnancy or in other words, I'm no longer considering getting a feeding tube.  Next week we go for another doctor's appointment and at this appointment we will get to see what we are having.

I'm getting excited about the confirmation... I'm convinced that we are having a boy.  Last week I started to online shop for cribs and bedding.  I found a website that will take custom orders and even though I'm convinced I'm having a boy, I'm having a hard time picking out boy fabrics... being a girl I think I'm having trouble taking my femininity out of the equation.

Ideally, I'd like to pick a crib and fabric that could be used for more than one child...  because I'm at the point now that I could fathom having more than one now that the sickness is fading.  But I realize that I may not be able to do just that (as in picking out a gender neutral fabric) and if so, that is fine because if I were a second child, I'd want my parents to pick out fabrics with me in mind and not my older sibling... regardless of how impractical that is.

My husband would point out that I feel this way because I'm a girl.  Boy's could care less and in his words, "are less complicated."

Either way, I don't think either one of us cares either way as long as it is healthy...

In the meantime, I'm starting to show a little more each day and so yesterday I ordered some maternity shorts...  I couldn't bring myself to purchase a pair when I went shopping a few weeks ago-- it was all just too traumatic.

But I think this latest burst of summer heat has made me realize that hot, binding jeans probably aren't the most practical summer attire.  My next concern-- blow up baby pool to lay out in-- I figure big tan belly's are better than big pale belly's any day.

Stay tuned for more!
 

Director of the Wedding

Tomorrow starts a weekend that I've been looking forward to and dreading for a little over a year:  I'm directing a friend's wedding on Saturday!

It's not exactly how I imagined spending my own 5 year anniversary... but I've always wanted to direct a wedding and I'm not about to pass up the opportunity.  To be perfectly honest, I'm a little worried that things won't go perfectly. 

They probably won't.  I realize that nothing ever goes exactly as planned, no matter how well you plan... and plan I have.  I have time lines, VIP reserve seating tickets, and diagrams of how the uneven bridal party should enter and leave the church.  One of my co-workers reassured me a few weeks ago that if things do get messed up, no one will know.  And she is right.  But I'll know. 

I couldn't ask for a better bride to work with.  She is calm, cool and collected... or at least she appears to be that way.  For the last few weeks I've been trying to sit down with her to review the order of program, and she's been almost impossible to nail down... and I think mostly because she just is through caring.

I remember feeling that same way five short years ago.  For a year and half I planned and stressed... and worried.  And then by the time the actual wedding rolled around I was just through worrying and stressing.  It was going to happen, ready or not.  For sanity's sake, I think most brides' have to reach that mindset... or else.

However, I can't say every bride I've worked with has adopted that same disposition...  and let me tell you, it has ended our friendship. Honestly, I don't know how you stay friends with someone that has no sense of humor... or makes you wear bright red lipstick and black liquid liner against your own will.

Regardless, I'm ready for this experience to be behind me.  And soon it will be over.  I hope and pray that things go well, that the mistakes are few and far between and that the Bride, above all else, is happy.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Maternity Clothing...

Last Thursday night as I was preparing myself for bed, excited that Friday would be the last day of school for all the little school children, panic struck.

My last pair of jeans that still fit were in the dirty clothes hamper-- the hamper I intended to empty and wash and didn't.  I've been in the middle of moving my office, and wearing jeans on Friday-- the only day of the week that we can legally wear jeans-- seemed practical. 

So Thursday night, I tried on a pair of jeans that I thought might still fit.  They didn't-- unless I used a rubber band to loop through the button hole to keep them from gapping open.  I then tried on a few dresses.  They still fit and looked good-- but moving my office in a dress didn't seem like a good idea and I'd have to shave my legs.

So I dug down into the depths of the dirty clothes hamper and liberated the magical jeans that seem to always fit, no matter how big my belly gets.  I had no choice.  And I reckoned myself to the idea that it was probably time to go face my fear:  Maternity Clothes Shopping.

Because it was the last day of school, my principal let us out a little early.  So at 3:00pm Friday afternoon, my mother and I headed off to the shopping mall to find me some pants that fit my expanding waist... and maybe a dress because next weekend I'm directing a wedding and I'd like, very much, to not look frumpy.

The maternity store is much different than the stores I normally shop.  The stores I used to shop-- Before Baby Bump (BBB)-- were always nice to me and would always ask if I needed help or if I wanted to get a fitting room started.  But because I shopped there often, most of the time I didn't need help because I knew my size and what I liked and most importantly, I knew what looked good on me.

But at the maternity clothing store, the sales associates where interested in much, much more.  "When's your due date?"  "Is this your first time being pregnant?"  "What are you interested in purchasing today?"  "Let me explain to you how our sizing works."  And that was upon entering the store. 

Generally I like to get the layout of the store first... especially a store I've never been in before.  Then I like to make my first pass, making note of things I like-- things that strike me-- and then on my second pass I start to make my selections for either purchasing or trying on.  I like to have time on my own to think things out without much interuption. 

Before I knew what was going on, I was in the dressing room and feeling like a werido because all of the pants have this strange stretchy top and no buttons and no zippers-- none of the markings of real jeans or shorts or pants.

I used to joke about elastic waisted pants-- how silly they were-- and now that is basically all I have as choices... at least for the next little while.

I also have never been so attended while in a dressing room-- not even when I was picking out wedding dresses.  It seemed like every few seconds some sales girl was asking me if they could get me more sizes-- which was a joke, because everything was too big--even the smallest size.  They wanted to know how things were fitting... if it was too big or too small.  They wanted to reassure me that I looked good, even if I didn't.  I don't like being patronized...

So I came away with two rather attractive tops... a pair of Seven Maternity jeans and a pair of black maternity pants.  I'm not excited about wearing the stretchy top pants-- especially this summer-- but at least the tops are nice looking and stylish.

Now that I have my barings, I think I might be able to tackle shopping in the maternity department a little more often or even from the privacy of my home, thanks to the internet.  I'm still not out of my magical jeans, but when the time comes, at least I'm sort of prepared.

EWT

16 Weeks or so Pregnant and I'm Back at IT...

Having very little to say, due to being mentally exhausted from coordinating high stakes testing for about a be-zillion kids my writing fell to the wayside.

But now that all that testing and re-testing nonsense is behind me, I'm hoping to pick up where I left off.  A lot has happened in the last month or so. 

We have now entered the 2nd trimester.  And upon entering the 2nd trimester, my nausea, vomiting and general feelings of having the life sucked out of me seemed to have lifted.  I still have some major food adversions-- mainly onions, pork chops, and pork tenderloin.  As I type, I think I'm having a bad reaction to some McNuggets... so they may be added to the list too.

I've gained somewhere around 4 pounds... but I feel like I've gained a lot more than that.  My front is becoming much rounder and I'm sure people I run into are wondering the age old question that surrounds women in my age group:  "Is she pregnant or just getting fat?"

By the way, I'm really regreting the McNuggets.

I'm hoping that I'm going to be back to blogging a little more regularly.  I've felt a little guilty that I'm not documenting my thougths on this whole pregnancy thing.  So we will see how consistant I can be...

Normal?...

I've been a bad blogger these last few weeks... but as always I have plenty of excuses.  Excuses, although I don't find them attractive, are sometimes all we are left with.  Work is crazy busy.  Most days I come home and I don't know if I'm coming or going.  Exhaustion is my new normal.  I'm learning that it is impossible for me to do two big jobs successfully at the same time.  These days I'm wearing my Test Coordinator hat much more than my well-worn School Counselor hat.

But sometimes work can be a blessing, especially when you're waiting to find out what is going on with the tiny inhabitants inside your body.

Last week we went for our first official OB appointment at my regular doctor's office.  We graduated from specialists to normal-ole-normal--although I have felt nothing close to normal in more weeks than I care to count.

The appointment went well, I'm pleased to report.  We got our third ultrasound.  It was amazing to see what kind of changes had taken place in the last few weeks.  The tiny blob from a few ultrasounds back actually had a baby-like shape this time and surprisingly it was rather active, moving all about.

The good news was that the second baby that had us so worried, had in fact vanished as predicted.  All that remains is an empty sack that apparently will be absorbed by the growing baby. 

We are relieved that things seemed to have corrected itself.  Looking back I had numbed myself in a protective manner because in all honesty, I didn't exactly know what I was going to do if I had to undergo further testing and worry.  After going through so much already with all the infertility testing and procedures we endured this last year, I had nothing left...

Nothing left, and so far to go.  Not a good position to find yourself in... not in the least. 

We go back to the doctor in a couple of weeks.  I have to get a physical, which apparently is standard practice.  I'll probably get to find out my blood type-- something I've always wanted to know...  So exciting things are on the horizon. 

Hopefully I'll be able to share some pictures soon...  I'm just too lazy right now to go and scan something.  I hope you understand. :)

Waiting Around...

Today was our second OB visit with the RE.  We are officially 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant today and overall things are going well.  As of the moment I'm carrying twins.  Twin A is doing great and has been since last week's appointment. 

At today's appointment we got to measure the heartbeat which is a strong 138 beats.  The baby grew from 3mm to 9mm and overall the Dr. Park was really pleased, as were we.  And then there is Twin B.  Last week Twin B had no heartbeat and it's development was visibly behind Twin A.  Today, Twin B has a faint flicker of a heartbeat and is measuring about a week behind Twin A.  The doctor is still not convinced that Twin B is going to hang around as it's yolk sack is really large, which isn't a good thing.

Apparently, more common that not, there is a syndrome called "Vanishing Twin" and apparently we may experience this phenomenon in the next couple of weeks. 

I know it sounds strange, but at the moment I'm feeling a little more than removed from the situation, considering that at this moment both Twin A and Twin B live inside me.  For some reason it feels like they live in that little TV screen at the doctor's office. 

We have officially been released to my regular OB-Gyn and we won't see them for another 2 or 3 weeks.  I can tell Husband is worried to wait that long, not really knowing what is going on with Twin B.  They warned us that we'd feel strange going from weekly visits with the RE to monthly visits with the OB.

I'm looking at it from the position that we could go to the doctor everyday for the next week and still not know anything.  Sometimes time is the only way to get the answers we seek.  Twin B is developing slowly and that makes me think that something could be seriously wrong with that embryo and if that is the case, this is truly out of my hands and for once in my life, I'm not worried.  Nature will take it's course.

However, I am anxious to see what is going to happen and when... I'm hoping that when our OB appointment rolls around later in April, we know a little bit more...

Until then, I'm going to work on decorating the house...  you know-- wallpaper, fabric for furniture, rugs, etc.

And I Signed Up for This...

First of all, doctors can't count. Apparently I'm 7 weeks pregnant.  Last week at our 6 week visit with the RE, Dr. Park pointed out that I was officially 6 weeks and 2 days along. That was just about a week ago.  Husband was excited and later at McDonald's said to me, "Can't we just start telling people now?  I mean, you're 6 weeks pregnant.  That is almost two months!" 

Hold, wait.   I quickly asked him to rewind 6 weeks.  Were we pregnant six week ago?  No.  In fact, 6 weeks ago, a week ago we were just starting our IVF cycle.  So don't get so excited, okay.

Regardless, something else happened six weeks ago... well days before I hit the six week mark to more accurate.  Morning sickness.  I hesitate to call it that, seeing how morning sickness really isn't exclusive to the morning time. It can strike at any moment at any time for any reason whenever it feels like it.  When it first hit, I didn't really know what it was.  I didn't think it would hit this early for some reason.

The majority of what I have experienced has been nausea mixed with a healthy dose of heartburn.  And to be graphic, prolonged nausea makes my stomach breakdown, which can be just as bad as vomiting.

Today was the first day in a long time that I had very little complaint and part of me started to think that all this junk might just be behind me.  Wrong.  As I type I feel the nausea and heartburn igniting. 

This is all linked to my eating habits.  Apparently growing baby means having to eat all the time.  I've seriously considered asking for a feeding tube as I'm the type of person that eats two big meals a day and maybe a snack.  If I ever get hungry, in comes the nausea.  I have to eat literally every one to two hours and even then that is not a guarantee that the nausea will stay away... I did everything right today and I'm starting to deteriorate... (I think , it is hard to tell really)

Lately I've taken to eating breakfast, then a snack, followed by lunch.  If lunch is big enough I can make it to about 4:30 for a quick run through the drive-through for a snack or mini-supper followed by a small supper sometime later on.  Last night I was eating crackers at 1:00am because my stomach felt empty.  And an empty stomach can mean hours of laying around on the bathroom floor.

I eat defensively.  And I hate it.

Who knew that growing a person would be so draining?  I have to have an afternoon nap between mini-supper one and mini-supper two and then most nights I'm falling asleep on the couch by 10:30pm.

The toothbrush is a real bitch, mostly at night.  Last night, after getting a shower I brushed my teeth and then had to lay on the cool tile floor until the urge to up-chuck passed... wet hair and only wearing a towel.  It is a sad state of affairs... let me tell you.

And to think that a seven weeks ago we forked over a butt load of cash to actually get me in the position.  What were we thinking?

Everyone keeps telling me that this will pass and hopefully it will sooner than later.  I can take pain.  I can take torture.  Nausea is a whole different kind of story... I'm trying to hang in there.

I still can't believe that I willingly volunteered for this...

I'm Back...

Sorry for the absence folks... things have been a little hard to take these days.  It is not what you think though.  We actually got good news a little over two weeks ago from the blood tests.  For those of you familiar with the IVF process, you get to completely by-pass the whole pee on a stick thing (yea) and go straight to the blood test.

Our beta came back at a solid 300.  For a reference point, 25 is considered pregnant.  Then in two days we were to go back for more bloodwork.  That number (300) must double.  And double it did, actually it more than tripled and that was exactly what my RE wanted.

This week we go for pictures.  Sounds easy doesn't it?

But please let me assure you these last two weeks have been no cake-walk.... by no means. 

For months I've been focused on just getting a positive test.  Just a little pink line or a "congratulations, Emily!  It's positive" phone call.  That's it.  And now that we've got it, I'm at a total loss as to what to do next.

This past summer I became a walking-talking encyclopedia of reproductive information, studying nothing about pregnancy and what to expect after the pink line.

I didn't even have a plan of action for what to do once you get the pink line.  Because we did IVF, we didn't really get the luxury of keeping the news to ourselves for the first couple of weeks like other non-IVF couples.  My family knew what was going on.  His family, for the most part, knew what was going on.  Getting pregnant takes a village... and several doctors, nurses, gynecological tools, shots, microscopes, embryologists, scary procedures, and even scarier phone calls about cell division...

And after the news came out then I suddenly felt at odds-- like someone who had geared up for battle and unexpectedly won, knowing very little about what was to come next.  And angry!  It was nobodies business and I made it clear that this was not to be something we make a big deal about. Ever heard the word Miscarriage?  Ever heard the word Ectopic Pregnancy?  Blighted Ovum?  Molar Pregnancy?  So many things could go wrong and so many things are never a guarantee.  I'm an honest-to-goodness example of how things don't always turn out the way they are supposed to.  Wasn't the Clomid supposed to do the trick back last winter?  Wasn't the shots and perfectly timed interactions with the Husband supposed be just the ticket?

So I've learned to just be paranoid like my friend who is convinced that there are three black cars that follow his every move cautious. 

Husband's family didn't get the memo.  When they got the news they obviously never heard the part about "we aren't telling anyone" line.  And the rational side of me totally gets it.  It is a big deal.  Just five short years ago I was in their shoes when my favorite IVF'er finally got her Big Fat Positive.  I was ready to shout it from every roof-top.  But I also remember her reining us all back in... because it is a scary world out there.

However I have this irrational side of me.  The passive-aggressive side of me that should never be crossed.  The irrational, hormonal side that can't even sit through a Designing Women's re-run without tearing up feels robbed... a little bit violated... ignored.  How dare someone just go around spreading information that isn't supposed to be told!  I swear I really now understand how those silly 4th graders feel...

But I also think I now understand why people do unexpected things after stressful life-altering events or why they retreat from the world for a bit.  You've got to re-center.  Re-focus...

Infertility doesn't run in the Husband's family as far as I know.  They don't know about how the whole process really messes with your head.  That's why they talk so damned much.  But the odds are not in their favor-- 1 in 5 couples experiences infertility to some degree... and there are a lot of grandchildren over there....  I'm not saying, but I'm just saying it may not just be us!

So on this week we go for pictures and to verify that there is something going on in there...  this is my update.  Oh, and Zofran is my new best friend.  Nausea is a bitch and it making me really reevaluate why I tried so hard to get in this condition in the first place.

And just as a disclaimer:  we are still not telling anyone.... not that that matters to some people.  But if you are reading this you probably understand where I'm coming from.

Thanks for all the good wishes, prayers and positive thoughts!