Top 10 Reasons I Love Brent Even More When I'm Pregnant

10. He's just as excited, if not more than I, to add another person to our family. He always reminds me what a miracle it is that I'm pregnant which I too often forget when the aches and pains overshadow my day to day life.

9. He'll sacrifice pillows, sheets, blankets and mattress real estate for my comfort. When I roll around restlessly in the middle of the night he immediately does whatever he can to help me get back to sleep.

8. When he puts his hands on my belly the warmth makes the baby move and kick. It's like she knows it's her dad!

7. When I'm bawling about how my ancestors (who were in the Martin and Willie Handcart companies) are probably so ashamed at what a wimp I am, he strokes my hair and gently repeats, "It's okay, this is just the hormones."

6. He gets down on his knees to tie my shoes for me. When it's snowing he does a double knot just to make sure they won't come loose.

5. Somehow he manages to make me believe that he truly thinks I am beautiful even though I'm about as attractive as a rack of yard tools on sale at Sears.

4. When he gets himself a snack, even if I tell him I'm not hungry, he always gets extra just in case I change my mind.

3. Although not a trained masseuse, he will rub my shoulders and back to help work out the kinks. Sometimes his own hands cramp up when he's working on a particularly bad knot. Whenever he hugs me, he squeezes me enough to try and pop my back and loosen everything up.

2. While most men would roll their eyes, he's keenly interested in what clothes I plan to dress our girls in. Normally he hates the mall but if I'm at Gymboree picking out an outfit he's right there to give his two cents.

1. Last night he made me THE tastiest omelet in the world with cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms for dinner. Even though nothing sounded good, it just hit the spot. Oh my YUMMY!

Trapped

For some reason the little one cooking inside me favors my right ribs. Interestingly, Liesel loved lodging herself in my left ribs. With this one, I can't lay on my right side for very long because my ribs go from a tad uncomfortable to slightly painful to sharply painful as this baby just nudges herself further and further in there. Laying on my left side gets old though. Every now and again I'm able to prop pillows around my belly in such a way that I can comfortably lay on my right side but it's very, very, VERY rare. It's a welcomed relief when it happens though.

Last night was one of those times and I was blissfully sleeping. Much to my dismay, Brent rolled over to face me and let out a huge breath. Oh my, it was like smelling the inside of a rotting, dead goat. Moving takes an act of Congress for me so there I was, with my sweet husband, foul breath and the prospect of returning to my left side for the night. I tried nudging him and he obliged... for two minutes, he turned his head to the wall. Then turned his head towards me again and breathed a HUGE sigh. Awash in empty stomach stench, I just wanted to cry. Now I know how Captain Jack Sparrow felt when he faced the Kraken in At World's End. I had no other option but to make a 3-point turn back to my left side and drift back to sleep.

My dreams were beyond bizarre. I dreamed I went to a pawn shop and asked for a cheeseburger. This is strange for a couple of reasons: 1- One of my New Year's Resolutions is to give up fast food for the year. I barely eat any as it is, I've never been that fond of it and I always regret it when I do. 2- I've never actually been to a pawn shop but there I was arguing with the guy behind the counter that they had a cheeseburger and he just wasn't giving it to me. 3- When he insisted he didn't have one I told him I was just sure someone had pawned a partially eaten cheeseburger and I wanted it. WHY would I want that? Thankfully, I woke up at this point.

My undergraduate degree was in Psych and I made a very little foray into dream analysis but for the life of me I don't get this one. Suggestions? When I told Brent about what happened he vowed he was going to start sleeping on the guest bed because he feels too guilty taking any bit of sleep away from me. Awwwwe! He's so sweet!!!

Tellin' the Truth Can Be Dangerous Business

Insensitive comments are a given during any pregnancy. It's just the way it is. But there's a certain point where they start coming fast and furious. Generally I try to ignore them but for some reason (hormones no doubt), they've been hitting me hard lately. On Friday I cried on the way to work anticipating another round of comments about how HUGE I am and I sobbed on the way home as I told Brent about them. The odd thing is the majority of them come from women... with children. You'd think they would know better but I guess they've forgotten.

Friday night we played games with a sympathetic group of friends which helped but I was still a little down. We put a very cranky Liesel down for the night, waaaaaay past her bedtime, and Brent flipped through the channels on tv. I wanted something upbeat, something that would take my mind off my day and really start my weekend. We found it on Wealth TV of all places; they were showing Ishtar.

Ishtar is a family and cult favorite. It did horribly at the box office, hence the Far Side cartoon above which is the video store in hell. Even though we own it on VHS (I really need to get the dvd... if they ever made it into dvd), I hadn't seen it in a while. Some of my favorite lines:

Lyle: It takes a lot of nerve to have nothing at your age, don't you understand that? Most guys'd be ashamed, but you've got the guts to just say 'to hell with it'. You say that you'd rather have nothing than settle for less, understand?

Chuck: You mean you bought a camel?

Lyle: No, I didnt really buy it. They SOLD it to me!

Lyle: Oh no. I think that something went wrong and now I own a blind camel. A blind camel!

Chuck: As one agent to another, I've heard the emir is a prick.

Jim: REALLY? Well we'll have to look into that.

Lyle: A piece of sand blew in my eye? This must be a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing... like a glacier melting.

Jim: ...especially now that Kadafi's signed a pact with Morocco.

Chuck: Is that near here?

Jim: Kadafi's a person. He rules Libya.

Chuck: Yeah yeah, but that's near here, right?

Jim: Yeah, Libya's near here.

Chuck: *singing* My life is nearly over, and time goes by so fast. I wanted to give you a present, to thank you for the past [From the song I'm Leaving Some Love In My Will].

CIA Agent: Jim, I don't know what you had in mind here, but this mission is no longer covert. We are now overtly firing on two Americans and God knows who else. And they are armed to the teeth!

Even typing these out makes me smile all over again. I really should look into getting it on dvd!

Totally Bizarre

The other day I was up in the Finance department handing in my latest Travel & Expense reimbursement form. Now that I'm in my third trimester and walking like a penguin, people no longer bother asking if I'm pregnant. They jump right away into the barrage of questions: How are you feeling? When are you due again? Do you know what you're having? Have you thought of any names? The nice lady who processes our forms and issues our reimbursement checks happened to see me and asked how I was doing. She followed the general pattern of questions and then the conversation took a turn I couldn't have anticipated.

When I told her I was having a girl, she asked me to turn around. Oooooohkay, that's a new one. After a little spin, I faced her again and she said, "You look like you're having a boy." What the whaaaaaa????? Is there something on my @$$ that says what I'm having? Well, then she explained that I was only carrying in the front and usually women with girls carry all over. In spite of her explanation, I headed back to my cube completely confused. Even if that old wives's tale were true, would you ask a pregnant women (IE someone who is already self conscious about her body shape) to turn around and then comment on where her weight was sitting?

Bizarre.

P.S. Actually published by Danika not realizing Brent was signed in.

How I Love You, Let Me Count The Ways...

They say every pregnancy is different and I am coming to realize the veracity of that statement. Even though I don't weigh any more than I did at this point in my pregnancy with Liesel, I'm FEELING it a lot more. I remember cruising into my third trimester wondering why people said it would be worse than my nauseous, exhausted first trimester. That lasted about 3 weeks and then my awkward body shape and extra weight really started to take it's toll on my hips, back and shoulders. Not to mention Liesel's penchant for lodging herself right into my ribs. For whatever reason, with two more weeks until I even START my first trimester, I'm feeling the aches and pains much more acutely this time. Again, I weigh the same as I did at this point in my last pregnancy, but my body seems to be groaning a bit more with this one.

Sunday night I was tossing and turning to find a comfortable spot. Brent asked me what was wrong and I told him, adding how frustrating it was to not get a good night's sleep for nigh on a week now. As I lay on my left side (like they tell you to), hugging a body pillow, with my head on my own pillow, I felt Brent stuff something around my lower back to give me support and make me more comfortable. It worked and I drifted off. It wasn't until my routine 5 AM bathroom run that I looked over and noticed Brent was sleeping with no pillow at all. He had taken his own pillow and given it to me so I could sleep.

Forget fairy tales girls, THAT'S true love.

It's Raining Estrogen! Hallelujah!!!

I have to make this fast because I'm just on lunch break at work. We had an ultrasound today and confirmed what Brent and I had suspected from the beginning: we're having another girl! I could not be more ecstatic to stay in the world of dresses and ribbons and pigtails and princess costumes!!! What can I say? I guess at this point I'm just not meant to "grow a pair" and that is just fine by me. Brent of course is thrilled to be fulfilling his destiny to be surrounded by beautiful women.

Even better news is that the baby is doing just fine, progressing well and she has the most beautiful, elegant little hands! Even the doctor commented on them. I'm SO relieved!!! Something came up on my most recent blood test and they had us meet with a genetic counselor before the ultrasound. In an odd way, I was so grateful to be Mormon and have a fair amount of family history background. The counselor was impressed with how much we knew and how well we could trace our family lines. "Any chance you two could be related? Like second cousins..." H to the NO on that one, we are 100% sure!

I just can't stop smiling :)

Did I Mention?

Due March 19th.

If You Chance To Meet A Frown...

"You're STILL here?" Such is the stuff of my Monday morning water-cooler talk at work. Yes, I'm still here. My child has not made an appearance... not that she necessarily should considering I'm not even due until Friday. Yes, I'm still working. I plan on working right up until I physically can't work anymore so I have the absolute maximum amount of time at home... with her... away from YOU and your draconian inquiries. No, I can't do anything about it. Despite what you've heard about taking long walks, spicy foods, funny movies and castor oil these babies demonstrate their free will whilst in the womb and they come when they're darn well ready. No I'm not afraid I'll go into labor at work. See how high she is in my belly? See how she's still gleefully kicking my ribs? That's a good indicator she is not headed south. So yes, still here and thank you for your support. For future reference, a gentle, "How was your weekend?" would have been SO much more apropos.

Now that I think of it, yesterday it didn't even begin at the water cooler. I began on the T when an MBTA employee approached me and asked if I was going to work. When I confirmed his suspicion, his eyes got as big as saucers. There was another such commentator in the lobby. Another in the elevator. Two in the kitchenette. For the morning meeting my fabulous coworkers said nothing, as if my being there were natural (shouldn't it be after all?). But then I visited a client and I had 3 more from the staff at that school. I was starting to see red and considering I weigh another 35 lbs than I did 9 months ago I'm thinking I could do some serious damage just by sitting on someone. When I got back to work there it was, THE question of the day waiting for me in the bathroom, the lunchroom, right outside my cube.

So okay, when life hands you lemons... I had to think quickly how to handle this one because I could feel myself going postal. Then I thought to myself, how would REAGAN handle this? My sister Reagan who could have fun in a white, square room with nothing more than a paper sack. What would SHE do? I sent out an email to the coworkers on my team: The person who most closely guesses how many "You're STILL here?" comments I get by the end of the day wins one WHOLE dollar! You wouldn't think a dollar is much motivation but let me tell you, the emails started pouring in. Perhaps everyone's brackets are totally shot for March Madness and they just wanted something else to wager on.

I called Brent, "I've started gambling." He was typically calm "Okayyyyyy... like on the internet?" When I explained the situation he told me it wasn't gambling since there was no risk on both sides and did his best to give me an "official" definition. Nonetheless, he supported me. The rest of the day flew by like a dream and the comments didn't bother me anymore. A coworker would overhear someone and then run up to me, "Did that one count?" Yes it counts... they ALL count! One unfortunate person tried to give me advice--Just stay glued to your desk; nobody sees you so they don't ask. Well, unless they plan on installing a toilet right here in my cube that's just not physically possible. Anyhoo, the next time I'm ready to rip someone's head off I'll think of Reagan... and what she'd do in a situation like that.

For the record, the final tally was 9 and surprisingly Brent had 5 at his work. Today I had my last pre-natal doctors appointment. If she doesn't come of her own volition, I will be induced in exactly one week. Win, lose or draw come Tuesday night *knock on wood* we should have a beautiful, bouncing, baby girl. And there was much rejoicing...

Where Were You When...

One of my coworkers recently approached me and asked how I was feeling. I'm always touched when someone has enough sympathy to see a very pregnant woman and think to ask how she's handling it all. After all, it's not easy. There's a reason the scriptures state that "the days were ACCOMPLISHED that she should be delivered." I think that's got to be the most correct translation we have because it is truly an accomplishment. Time has suddenly slowed down for me and I can take life in about 3 hour increments. Just try to get up and get to work. Now try to make it to lunch. Now make it through lunch. If I've gotten that far without wanting to pass out from exhaustion I'm totally golden. Work is slow right now so I can pretty much leave at 4 or so without too much fanfare. After I get home I'm free to curl up in our soft bed and wait until I feel Brent kissing my cheek indicating he's home and he'll make me dinner. Then I'm free to go back to bed with the sure knowledge I made it through another day. I am woman! Hear me... well, snore :)

But I digress. I always answer these inquiries about my physical well-being honestly: Fine, thanks. A little tired today. Hungry. Hot. Good because I slept really well last night. Like Friday won't come fast enough. Annoyed because Trent smells like mustard. The interesting thing about this conversation is that he followed up his question with, "You know, you might consider bringing a towel to work just in case your water breaks." I was blown away. First of all, this co-worker has no children. Not to mention he's gay so it's highly unlikely he's been with a woman when she goes into labor. I told him from what I understand that usually only happens in 10-15% of women and even then it's often after contractions have begun. I tried to reassure him that for the most part there's a 5-7 hour window when everything gets in gear to when it gets more serious and I have to get to the hospital. He nodded politely and eventually went back to work. Just to make him feel better, I got out the fleece blanket my company gave to all associates last summer and laid it out on my chair.

This got me to thinking that I'm not the only one who's wondering when the "big" event will take place. Naturally I assumed I was the most vested in it, but I started to notice how certain questions keep coming up at work. Like the ones about when am I gonna start my maternity leave? Am I going to start working from home soon? Is today my last day? Am I going to leave work... THAT afternoon because I look a little haggard? It never occurred to me that others might be wondering if they're going to be the unfortunate witnesses of my girl's worldly debut. My joke of "Oh I'm going to work right up until I have this baby. In fact, I'm planning to just have her in a conference room. I figured I could call Tech Support for help." doesn't get much of a laugh these days.

Again, I just assumed this child's birth was only significant to me but I'm beginning to see it would be significant to whomever happens to be around. It would be an event you'd never forget, kind of like when Kennedy was shot, or Princess Diana died, or when 9-11 happened. Everyone knows where they were when these things happened because they were so monumental. Unfortunately I can't predict the timing of when I go into labor. I don't know if it will be long or short. I'm not sure if I can go naturally or if an emergency c-section will be in order. All I know is that like death and taxes, it WILL happen. BTW- did you all know Brent once worked at a mortuary? That absolutely cracks me up because as an accountant he really HAS covered the whole death and taxes thing. He's less amused than I on that point...

The Best %#^$& Baby Shower. Period.

I'm loath to confess this, but I truly dreaded it. Long ago I had even swore off attending baby showers; choosing instead to mail a gift card to Babies R Us and silently bow out, happy to remain in absentia. Something about the games, the labor and delivery chatter, the cutesy gifts, and the few but distinct gift grubbing mothers-to-be turned me off. Not to mention sitting in the middle of a circle while everyone intently watched me open gifts is a bit too much attention for me. I know, shhhhhhhhocker. So when my visiting teachers offered to throw me a shower, it was a classic Catch 22. If I dug in my heels and refused, they'd lose out on a service opportunity they so clearly wanted to provide. If I said yes, I'd have to endure the event and possibly be scarred forever. As Robert Lee Frost once put it:

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a woods.

And I-- I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

I knew the question of what we wanted and/or needed would come up. I told my visiting teachers to encourage anyone crazy enough to attend this shindig just to bring their favorite children's book. If there were a game, to do the one where everyone has a paper clip and if someone says key words like "sweet", "cute" or "adorable" their paper clip was forfeit to the fastest person. That would at least cut out the cutesy talk I thought.

Shamefully, I have to admit they blew me away. No games. No sappy decorations. Just simple and classy, the way I like it. When it came time to open gifts everyone was chatting happily in their own corner and barely noticed me. Ahhhhh, it was wonderful. Almost everyone brought books and even those who didn't brought something handmade that had special significance to it. I got board books (the ones made on thick cardboard-like pages) and hard-back books. Books for babies and books for toddlers. Books about colors and ABC's. Animal books and fanciful books. Books old enough to practically be out of print and brand-new what's-hot-now books. I got books I'd never even heard of like The Dot and Goodnight Boston. The most amazing thing? With all of those women and all those books, not one book was duplicated! Everyone brought something different.

The best part was the explanations that followed. "This book is how Leslie learned her ABC's." "We had to buy this book 3 times because Kay loved it so much she wore them out." "This was such a great excuse to take my kids to the bookstore and THEY helped pick these out!" "My daughter literally has this book memorized." "That book is technically meant for a Grandpa to read to his grandchild but the first time I read it I found myself bawling and HAD to get it for you." "This is a great bed-time book, works every time." Each book was not just a gift but a story behind the story. The point of this shower wasn't for me to check things off my registry, it was a wonderful gathering of women and their recommendation on children's literature... everyone had something to say. I loved it.

I was blown away by every one's generosity and found the evening to be a much-needed foray into the world of estrogen. Don't get me wrong, I love Brent but women just NEED each other in a different way. When I eventually came home to Brent and he glanced through our newly acquired library he just kept nodding and smiling. Really, it was the shiz.

Whenever I tell anyone about my baby shower their eyes practically pop out of their head and they say something to the effect of, "That is SUCH a good idea!!!" Don't I know it :) However, I can't take credit for this one... that goes to my wonderfully insistent visiting teachers.

End of the Road

I'm definitely nearing the end of my pregnancy. Today is March 1 (I got rabbits this morning!) and more likely than not, our girl will make her debut in the next few weeks. I'll no longer be telling people I'm due "next month" but rather, "later this month." My girl doesn't kick me anymore so much as nudge me. My doctor tells me that's normal since space is getting tight for her in the womb. The myriad baby websites I check on a weekly basis tell me she's pretty much done cooking--all her systems are developed and she's ready to go. I keep a stash of at least $40 with me at all times just in case I have to take a cab and Brent never turns off his cell phone. It's time for me to face the music. My entire life is going to revolve around a brand new daughter...SOON.

There are outward signs this is all coming to an end too. A few months ago strangers on the T would look at me like, "Oh how cute, a pregnant woman!" Now they eye me warily and I can almost hear them thinking, "Don't you DARE go into labor in front of me. I'm having a bad day and just can't handle that right now." When my train stalls for a minute or two I get more than one sidelong glance as if to say, "Is she all right? Or is she going to deliver right here while we're stuck between stations?" When that happens I like to stare at one spot and breathe in and out very slowly just out to mess with their minds. LOL, I'm so evil.

Then there's the constant barrage of comments like the typical "You look like you're ready to POP!" and "WOW you're huge!!!" The less conspicuous "When are you due again?" comes up often as well. Lately I've found myself getting defensive for my girl. Yes I'm larger than I've ever been and I never, EVER thought I would have any body part bigger than my butt. My back hurts, I can't sleep well, my hips ache so I can barely walk, I can't sit, stand or find any position that's truly comfortable. My hormones have me crying at the most random things, I spend more time on the toilet with the constant peeing and regular constipation than I do watching TV and I find myself grunting to make even the slightest move with my body.

However, the world is a scary place and if my girl wants to hang out with Mom for just a little longer, I'm okay with that. I'm not going to push her. Well, eventually I'll have to push her but for the most part, I think she'll come when she's ready. I've heard so many mothers-to-be who are so sick of being pregnant they just want that baby out at all costs. That's completely understandable, but as for me I'll tolerate the aches and pains for her sake. Even in the best circumstances she'll experience lots of pain during her lifetime here on earth. "She's not ready yet" I say when asked if I just want it all to be over.

I was craving steak last night and everyone tells us to go out as much as possible now because it will be too hard once we have the baby. Brent picked me up from work and we headed to the ultra-Irish South Boston where there are plenty of pubs that offer excellent steak and potatoes fare. Over my filet mignon I asked Brent to rank each trimester of my pregnancy from 1 to 10 with 1 being the sweet girl he's always known and loved and 10 being who is this psycho I married? It was interesting. First trimester I got a 5.5, second I got a 2.1 and third a 5.3 but he qualified that one. Apparently if you take out about 4 days insanity from my third trimester I'd be down to a 2 or 3.

As for me, I remember the first trimester being the absolute worst since I was feeling sick ALL the time. I would have given myself rankings of 9, 3, and 6 (I'm not the accountant hence no decimals). That first trimester was definitely rough but I swear Brent magically became much more annoying so it wasn't ALL me either. I don't think I was terribly hormonal yet, I just cried a lot from feeling like I was buried under 50 feet of manure and having to put on a brave face at work since no one knew. Perhaps this last trimester has been better because he learned his lessons from the first?

So anyway, it was funny to look back now that we are nearing the end of this journey and starting another one. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like...

Just Push?

I have to admit I've only read 2 pregnancy books. One is The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy which my friend Chelsea told me to read because it's just THAT funny. Long ago I was hanging out in Harvard Square and decided to stop by The Coop to glance through it. I found myself laughing out loud and decided to get it even though childbirth was so remote a possibility. The second book is Pregnancy Sucks For Him. I was in my first trimester when I spotted this one and a phrase on one of the pages caught my eye, "If she's finally able to sleep, don't wake her up. Ever." I decided to get it for Brent but ended up devouring it myself. Other than that, no obsessive reading, no gossiping with girlfriends, no watching A Baby Story. I just didn't want to freak myself out when it wouldn't do me any good. So it's with this limited knowledge that I went to our birthing class today.

Even though I knew this class would be a frank and honest discussion of what to expect, there were some surprises I wasn't entirely prepared for. So here's my Top 10 Things That Shocked My Socks Off About Labor:

10. Somehow I thought I'd have a small amount of sweat around my hairline, and my cheeks would be rosy with all the exertion. Brent could look down on his glowing wife and be proud of how she was such a trooper. Turns out that's not the case. We watched videos. I saw woman after woman looking like she'd been dragged out of the dumpster... in Hoboken. The looks of panic combined with the rolling eyes and moaning. Oi, not a pretty picture. My visions of retaining some shred of my beauty in this whole process melted. BTW- I haven't been that terrified of an instructional video since I took Driver's Ed.

9. Epidural. Good idea, right? Everyone's talked about it like it's the Taj Mahal of the birthing experience. Turns out anesthesia won't even consider doing one until you've had a bag of fluids via I.V. in you... no matter HOW hydrated you are. This brought up many fond memories of the last time I had to get a bag (or two) of fluids for dehydration. Oh, and it takes about 20 minutes for the entire procedure and another 20 for the whole thing to take effect. That's over an hour of dealing with the contractions unmedicated. Not to mention of all the epidural fans I've talked to, not one mentioned the requisite catheters (note, PLURAL) that go along with it.

8. Along those same lines, I found out the epidural can significantly slow down the labor process and eventually you may be headed for a Cesarean. I know many a woman who's a fan of the Cesarean. Not so much.

7. Brent has to breath WITH me. That's right, all that silly huffing and puffing you see belabored women doing? He's supposed to do it with me because supposedly I'll forget everything we learned today when I'm writhing in excruciating pain.

6. I really don't like stinky feet. I realized this near the end of the day when the woman to my right took off her slippers to relieve her swollen feet. While I sympathize with her, I almost choked on the fumes. Of course, I didn't say a word because her husband had a t-shirt that said, "Maine State Prison" on it. Besides, they were really nice people.

5. There's a variety of fluids that will be flinging out of my body while I'm in labor from vomit to blood to well, the baby I guess. Essentially my innards will become my outtards. There's no other way to put it... it's just plain gross.

4. Water helps to bring on labor. So my love of baths, warm showers and the like may just come in handy. Hooray, I feel like I've done something right!

3. Yoga, it makes more sense now. Our instructor talked about how we needed to breathe deeply so we'd stay "relaxed" during the intense pain. Reminds me of when I'd be in the down dog pose with my posterior in the air, all that weight pressing on my tiny little arms and wrists and my yogi would say, "Breath into the pose.... now relax... deeper." I thought those yoga instructors were just sado-masochists. Now I'm seeing their relation to the circle of life.

2. Somehow I was hoping all the unsolicited advice would stop once I had the baby. Turns out that just continues... for the rest of this child's life. Luckily I haven't had TOO much regarding labor and delivery. My favorite was the girl who told me to try and put off having my epidural for as long as possible because it would help me with the pushing. This is the girl who's planning on adopting because she's terrified of labor.

1. I was under the (false) impression that all the ugliness of labor and delivery would be erased once you saw that perfectly beautiful creature. Hmmm, I guess that's actually not QUITE what happens. The instructor showed us a variety of pictures of things that shouldn't throw us off when we finally meet our offspring. In one of the videos, the mother even commented about her newborn, "It doesn't even look like a baby!" Yeah, between the cone heads, vernix, swollen faces, slime, genitals, blood, purple hands and feet, rashes, "stork bites", peeling skin and other lovely normalcies, turns out that's not entirely the case. Soooo, ooohkay.

I guess I'll just take the advice of the birthing instructor and take things one contraction at a time.

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Our baby is going to be born in the ghetto. Not that we don't have good insurance, on the contrary we have fabulous insurance but since this is my first baby, we were picky about the doctor. Our doctor is fabulous. She's everything you'd want in your OB-GYN and I just love her. She's bright and funny yet straightforward and thoughtful when answering my millions of questions. She's just a doll. She also happens to work at Tufts New England Medical Center which is right by Chinatown... in the ghetto (formerly known as the combat zone).

Tonight I had a birthing class so I walked to the orange line stop after work. Brent wasn't going to make this one so I was on my own. The orange line isn't necessarily scary, especially during rush hour. Besides, the T policeman who stands there kind of provides a sense of security. The train was running behind and the crowd waiting at the stop got bigger and bigger. I was a little anxious about being late but the masses were making me nervous. Bostonians are brash, and when push comes to shove, they shove... and then some.

Finally the train arrived and it stopped with the door just to my right. It's common protocol to let passengers off before rushing in. Once everyone was off, the black youth standing right in front of the door, the one with the oversized baseball cap, long gold chain and baggy pants put out his arms to block everyone from entering and loudly announced, "NOPE! Let this lady on first." Everyone looked at me and seeing I was clearly pregnant, stood aside so I could get on the train first. In other circumstances I would have dismissed this boy, but this afternoon he became my hero.

All I can say is his momma taught him right!

Gratitude

My darling little girl discovered my kidney the other day. She gave it a swift kick when I was in the middle of a meeting and I very nearly yelped out loud. I thought that was rather annoying until she discovered this spot under my left rib and jammed herself in there. No lie, I did everything I could think of to get her to move: massaged the area, put an ice cube on the opposite end of my belly (usually that gets her moving to kick it off), a piece of chocolate, a talking to from Brent, and nothing. I'm no wimp, but this really hurt. At at about 3AM she finally moved off my left rib like a little pod detaching from a spaceship. She rolled and swirled and gently kicked until she finally settled... under my RIGHT rib. Sooo I'm forcing myself to blog this one before I become one of those women who does nothing but complain about her pregnancy. I'm desperate to be a cheerful mother-to-be who can only say that I wish I could be pregnant forever.

Top 10 Things I LOVE About Being Pregnant

10. I can eat anything I want. Well, anything aside from cold-cut sandwiches, egg-nog, sushi, raw cookie dough, caffeine and heroin. But those things are overrated, right?

9. I now always get a seat on the T. Always. Even the old ladies are giving up their seats for me now. I guess I now qualify as someone "anciana o invalida"

8. There is a secret hierarchy of questions a pregnant woman receives that goes something like this: When are you due? Do you know what you're having? Have you thought of any names? Are you planning to work after she's born? Right now I pretty much get the last two and I've had a lot of fun coming up with different answers to entertain myself. Over Christmas I told my in-laws we wanted our children to have an appreciation of all cultures so we were thinking of Hoolihay Wang. Originally we had considered Hoolihay Wong but we didn't want her to feel like there was anything "wong" with her.

7. Brent has found so very many friends among other husbands who's wives are expecting. After a talk with one of these gentleman, he seems so happy. Kind of like finding out that rash you have is an epidemic and everyone is going through it, it's just that no one talks about it. So I'm glad he's doing the manly bonding.

6. I can magically make myself pass out by trying to tie my shoes. Apparently bending over cuts off the circulation to my brain so I play this little game with myself. I try to pick up things off the floor until I see spots. Never could do that before. Maybe that's why pregnant women "glow". The excessive gas could also be the culprit for the "glow".

5. Finding the caveat to the fashion rule that black is slimming. I tried wearing all black the other day and I looked like a licorice jelly bean. By the end of the day I actually craved licorice jelly beans.

4. Seeing yet again how freaking fantabulous my husband is as he massages my back, gets me cold water, wipes away my tears when I'm having a "moment"... okay "day" and does his darndest to find strawberry cake mix at the store. Why is that so hard to find anyway? Go to any fast food chain and they have shakes in chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. Go to the store and the cake mixes come in chocolate, vanilla and carrot. I seriously don't get it. Aren't there more people out there who would like a strawberry cupcake with buttercream frosting? Am I reaching for the stars here?

3. My recent nesting stage has been a perfect excuse to get Brent to throw out his stuff. Uhm, I mean, "organize" his "memorabilia". In all seriousness, he's done a fantastic job so far and I'm impressed with how much he's scaled down.

2. Gymboree. This one just about makes number 1 so it's a CLOSE second. I love Gymboree. I can fantasize for hours about what my little girl will look like in their Holland line, their Rainy Day line, their pajamas and shoes and coordinating hats (oh my!).

1. For the first time in my life, my thuttocks look small and petite. The reason is twofold: My huge belly makes Mount Krakatoa look small and it casts a shadow so anything south of my belt is harder to see. Then again, that may just be from my perspective but still, it's NICE to not look down and just hate my body. Now I look down and observe the Orville Redenbacher action happening in my mid-section and don't even have to worry about my back side. Out of sight, out of mind. Hooray!

There it is, I LOVE being pregnant!

The Magic Belly

When I was on my mission Dad’s job had him traveling a lot. I often received letters that were written while he was waiting in various airports or delayed on a tarmac somewhere. After the mission and college when I started traveling for my job it became a bonding point for us both. Even now I feel like Dad’s the only one I can truly talk to who understands the ins and outs of business travel. It’s a funny juxtaposition now that I’ve recently made Platinum status on American Airlines and he’s now the missionary. He’s slogging it out in the mission field while I have people “powdering my butt” as he used to say. On my flight today from Dallas to Boston I had a lovely lunch which began with hot towels and warm nuts. The salad was good and I had to choose between the BBQ sandwich or the pizza. I declined the wine of course but warm cookies were on their way to make up for it. My glass of water (note: GLASS, not plastic cup) was not less than half empty the whole flight. They called me Ms. Wuehler… and they made sure to pronounce it right.

I have to tell you there is a certain power in being pregnant when it comes to travel. You may have noticed that before they board a flight there’s a small group of well-heeled men standing near the gate. They try to look surreptitious but they watch that gate like Ed McMahon is about to come out any minute and declare them the winner of Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. There’s a reason for this you see, every one of those business men has a laptop bag and rollerboard. Although First Class has many amenities, there is simply not much room in the overhead compartment, especially if EVERYONE has a rollerboard which pretty much everyone does. Much of the space is taken up by FAA required first aid and emergency supplies. So it’s a dog eat dog world there in First Class.

I sat back and watched them; thoroughly entertained by the way they try to edge up on one another. Clearly they're competitive people who are used to mapping out strategies for success. To put it plainly, they’re used to winning. Just before the announcement is made to board, I headed over to the group and soundly destroy their plans to race onto the jet bridge first. Who is going to be the jerk who tries to shove past the pregnant lady? That’s right, no one. The cost of doing so would be to have everyone stare you down for being utterly uncouth. They all must give me deference and it is I who makes it onto the plane first. Even the guy who eyes my belly as if he’s thinking, “She looks healthy enough, I could get ahead of her” ends up standing aside. If I choose to waddle a little slower, they must wait. In this scenario, it is I alone who sets the pace.

Once on board it doesn’t stop there because who’s going to be the jerk who makes the pregnant lady put her rollerboard into the overhead compartment? Again, they must bow to me. It’s women and children first and at the moment, I cover BOTH those categories. I trump their every advantage. They may be CEO's or high-powered salesman, but I am expecting which is something they will never have. Perhaps it’s not breaking the glass ceiling, but it is domination, even if only for the duration of a flight. Veni, Vidi, Vici.

Happy New Year

I've come to realize that when a lot of women say they just want to be a wife and mother, it sounds a lot simpler than it really is. That's the case with me anyway. Yesterday I ended up in the hospital with a nasty bug. Even though it wasn't all that serious, the doctor on call wanted me to come in just to make sure I wasn't going into preterm labor.

We got to bypass the emergency room and go straight to labor and delivery. I was told they're actually terrified of pregnant women in the emergency room. They asked Brent to wait outside while I changed into the paper-thin gown. While he waited, the nurse asked me about domestic abuse. I know this is standard but it caught me off guard. I almost blurted out, "Did you SEE him?" My sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed doll of a husband? Anyhoo, I gave her a negative response along with the questions about STD's and drug use. Ahhhh I love being a Mormon.

They hooked me up to a baby monitor and hearing my girl made me feel so much better. At one point the nurse stopped mid-sentence and said, "Someone's playing with their umbilical cord." That's one I haven't heard before. "She is?" The nurse told us she was squeezing it and then she scratched my belly to distract her and get her to stop. At that point our girl started kicking and the nurse smiled at us and said she was getting her back.

Just for good measure they took a urine sample and found I was dehydrated. The doctor showed me the little print out and pointed at one line in particular. "See that? That's a measure of your ketones... there should be no pluses." Yeah... I had four of them. Soooo I had no choice but to get an IV.

I have a fear of needles. Not pain, NEEDLES. So when someone says something like, "This one doesn't hurt" I kind of want to tear my own arm off just so I have something to throw at them. I thought shots and blood draws were bad but an IV is infinitely worse because you have to have it in for much longer. She tried my left side but apparently when I'm dehydrated I have jumpy veins and she had to take it out and try my right side. Stupid vein. I did two liters of liquids but the second one wasn't going as quickly so they pumped it into me. Not fun. It hurt all the way down the vein into my elbow and made my whole arm cold. After all that, they found there was no change. Since I was doing so much better symptomatically they let me go home with a directive to drink half/half Gatorade and water and start solids when I felt I was ready.

Remember my sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed doll of a husband? Rather than watching the Rose Bowl he sat by the hospital bed (I use this term loosely, that thing was about as comfortable as a Pilate's table), he stroked my hair and massaged my back. He told me stories to make the time pass and ran to find a nurse whenever I needed something. When we got home he unloaded the car while I soaked in a hot tub to loosen up my back and he did laundry while I blissfully floated off to sleep in our bed.

So like I said, I didn't really think all about what being a wife and mother would entail. In some ways it's hard but in others it's so very, very wonderful.

Check Up

I had my monthly check up with my OB-GYN this morning. Lately before the doctor comes in they've been sending med students. For the most part, these girls have been nice but I'm always tempted to say something like, "My pee has turned blue and there's a voice in my head telling me to find Xanadu on a wooden horse... but that's normal, right?" Then she'd run for my doctor and I wouldn't have to repeat everything I've just told the med student to my doctor once she arrives. One other thing, the med students seem to have a hard time finding the heartbeat which scares the snot out of me. Before placing the sonogram monitor thingy on me the med student asked me if I knew where the baby was positioned. Either that was a weird question or I'm a really bad mother... it's a toss up. I'm pretty sure she covered my entire belly looking for it and there was a moment when I swear she said, "Did you hear that? Kind of like a horse? That was it." Okay, I've heard my girl's heartbeat before but it's NEVER sounded like a horse. I again contemplated making the blue pee comment.

My doctor and I caught up and she mentioned that I needed to get a flu shot. Oi... I'm not so good with needles and being pregnant has been a "challenge" for me in that regard. It's been made even more "challenging" based on the fact that those who have drawn my blood were the most uncaring, unsympathetic people found on God's green earth. Maybe they all worked for Leona Helmsly at one point or perhaps they've all had a lobotomy. One lady gave me a bruise 3 inches long and another dude went right through my vein and had me screaming in pain. At least that bruise wasn't quite so big. I found my salvation in Luz: she was SO fast and SO kind. I literally jumped up and hugged her I was so happy. But I digress...

My doctor was giving me a hard time about this flu shot and she deflected every excuse I threw at her like teflon.

"Yeah, you guys are out of the kind that doesn't have any murcury soooo, I can't get that."

"No no! We got a shipment that don't have the murcury."

"Ahhhh, wait a minute! I got one the last time I was here! Yes! I DISTINCLY remember getting a flue shot last month."

"Are you pulling my chain?" she says as she looks through my chart. Stupid chart.

"The last one I got actually GAVE me the flu so isn't that more dangerous than chancing it with a case of the flu?" Okay, that last flu shot was 8 years ago in the MTC and I kid you not, I seriously considered not serving a mission just because of it. Then I got the flu which made the whole experience that much more futile.

"Well, considering how much you travel this is a precaution I strongly recommend you take."

Brent was absolutely no help... traitor. The med student watched all this like someone watching a tennis match. She was silent and her head ping ponged between us. Unfortunately Luz couldn't give it to me which was yet another blow. My doctor asked me to wait in the doorway of the examining room while she ran down the hall to the nurse's office. I'm sure she said something like, "Code Red... this one's really psycho so have the straitjacket on hand." So my arm is a little sore and I'm feeling a little picked on.

When I stepped out of the subway the violinist was there again and this time she was playing Chardis. Last time she was there she was playing Ashokan Farewell. All my sisters know these pieces well and now I'm wondering if this subway violinist is a graduate of Mrs. Wiebner's City High School orchestra class.

Cramps & Carter's Clothing

I experienced my first leg cramps the other night. I must have rolled over onto my back and my girl must have crushed some important artery because suddenly I was bolt upright in excruciating pain. I've never had a leg cramp. A Charlie Horse, sure (why do they call them that anyway?) but not a leg cramp. It felt like the muscle in my leg had become a stubborn rubber band which snapped back and tightened. In my pain I woke Brent up and he tried to massage it out which hurt even more. Finally I realized my foot was pointed and I slowly pulled back my toes which seemed to release the cramp. It was still sore the next day but man oh man am I glad it's over. Glad to know Brent's got my back in a situation like that too :)

Over the Thanksgiving weekend we went to New Jersey and on Saturday decided to head to the mall. I am squarely against going shopping at 4AM the day after Thanksgiving. After stuffing myself with stuffing and tryptophan or whatever it is that makes you drunk on bird, I just want to relax and sleep in. Then I like to have leftovers for brunch, lunch and dinner. Anyhoo, on Saturday Mom and Dad were blissfully obligation free so we headed to the mall when the super shoppers would be gone, having done everything Friday morning.

Mom and I spotted a Carter's store and directed Dad over to it. As he parked he sang out, "Staying!" which is his way of saying he'd rather sit in a cold car and people watch than check out the baby stuff. Brent, Mom and I headed in and saw one adorable thing after another and blessing of blessings, all on SALE. There was an adorable pink, plaid jumper but the smallest was a 2T. Brent expressed his concern about buying clothes for a 2 year old and I turned to him and said, "Honey, we have to think ahead. This is the 401(K) of children's clothing." A nearby sales associate laughed.

Mom had Brent occupied and I swiftly walked over to the register. I leaned over to the cashier and said, "I need you to ring these up as quickly as you can before my husband comes over here." She nodded and fast as lightning started scanning madly. Brent wandered over at which point I gestured towards a display in the far corner. "Honey, what ARE those? Are they washcloths? Toys? Go check them out." By now Mom caught the hint and escorted him over. My cashier whispered the total and I thanked her profusely as I scribbled my signature. "I understand" she said, "I'm married too."

Get Your Kicks

I have decided this blog will basically be a retrospective. When something exciting, noteworthy or otherwise anecdotal happens I simply can't find the time to sit down and blog about it. It's always an afterthought. I guess I'd make a horrible journalist.

The other day I'd gotten Brent safely to the subway station and went back home to lie in our warm and comfy bed for juuuuuuuust a little longer. I wasn't really thinking about much when I felt it. A tiny kick in my lower abdomen. Then I felt it again and I was even more sure this was our girl reminding me she was there. I was 20 weeks and starting to feel like a failure because I hadn't felt any kicking but there it was... or should I say there SHE was? I cringed a bit as I called Brent knowing he had a busier than busy day to get through but even over the phone I could sense his excitement as well. When I apologized for bothering him he firmly told me that no, this was important.

The New Testament often talks of how Mary wondered, pondered, marvelled and kept so many thing in her heart regarding her son, Jesus Christ. Although not the mother of the Savior of mankind, I felt a bit of kinship with her at that moment. Maybe my baby did too :)

It's a GIRL!!!

I woke up this morning feeling like it was Christmas. Perhaps it was daylight savings or perhaps it was the anticipation but I couldn't sleep after 5:00 AM. I cuddled with my love and thought about how today was THE day. Today I'd find out if we were having a boy or a girl! Work was pointless and when we were at long last there with the ultrasound tech we gave her our instructions. If it was a boy we were going out for Thai at a restaurant called King and I. If it was a girl we were getting some food from a French delicatessen called Au Bon Pain. So we didn't want to know if we were having a boy or girl, we just wanted a restaurant recommendation. Our tech loved the idea.

I've heard many stories about how the position of the baby can make it impossible to determine the sex. Our little tadpole couldn't have been more obliging. Folded in half, we had a clear shot of the legs, the butt (SUCH a cute butt!!! Must be Brent's genes...) and all the space between. "I'd suggest going to Au Bon Pain for dinner tonight" the tech told us. Brent was beaming and I was thrilled.

There have been many times in my life when I've been happy but this is just... different. I thought I was blown away by the first sonogram. Then the first ultrasound. Now this. It just gets better and better. As I related all this to one of my coworkers he said, "And if you can imagine, it gets even BETTER!"