Spontaneous life-changing decisions

(I'm going to ignore the fact that I haven't posted anything for more than a month. I'm already thoroughly disappointed in myself that I haven't used this blog as a way to document my pregnancy. But work is crazy, the holidays are nuts -- you all get it, right? Sigh. OK, moving on.)

When we found out we were expecting, after we did the whole "OMG!" tearful hug, dance-around-the-room, "I can't believe we're going to be mama and daddy!" thing, T and I had a serious talk.

Decisions needed to be made.

Where would the baby's room go?

Breast milk or formula?

Which college football team will this baby be forced to root for?

You know. The really important stuff.

And somewhere in and around deciding that, although we're not planning to force our child to love the University of Virginia like Daddy, we are NOT raising an Ohio State fan, we decided we were not going to find out the gender.

"There are so few true surprises in life," T said convincingly, as I was kind of wavering back and forth. "You know: We're in the delivery room. You're screaming. I'm telling you to suck it up. And the doctor says -- OW."

(At this point I hit him. Obviously.)

His point, among the sarcasm: That moment, when the doctor says "It's a girl!" or "It's a boy!" is one of the only real surprises left in life. Why would we want to deprive ourselves of that?

It made sense.

So. It was settled. We informed everyone of this decision shortly after announcing Baby G's impending birth, and were met with mixed reactions. Most folks were excited about our more traditional approach; our parents were annoyed they had to wait to buy gender-appropriate toys and booties.

But really, it didn't change much from our perspective. I'm not a fan of pink, so the nursery was always going to be blue, anyway. Our son would have stuffed animals; our daughter would learn to play catch. This was not the end of the world.

During our 20-week ultrasound, everything went as planned. We confidently answered "No!" when the ultrasound tech asked if we wanted to know the gender, and we got to see Squirmy doing his happy, squirmy thing on screen all the same. All was well. When the tech informed us that our child was stubborn (SHOCKER) and didn't want to show his/her face, meaning we'd need a follow-up ultrasound in a few weeks to get those measurements, we didn't bat an eye. Easy peasy.

When that 22-week ultrasound rolled around, the plan was on track. Goop on the belly, Squirmy squirming, ready to roll.

Except this time, when the (new) tech asked us if we wanted to know the gender, something weird happened.

I looked at T, we made eye contact and said, in unison, "Yes!"

Um, what?

We hadn't discussed this change of plan. Our minds were made up. No one was wavering on the way into the doctor's office.

Apparently 9+ years of marriage means your brains are melded to the point where you make spontaneous, life-changing decisions AT THE SAME TIME.

While we were still reeling from this apparent simultanously 180-degree turn, the ultrasound tech said, casually, "Oh. OK. It's a boy."

...

Just like that.

No big deal.

A boy.

A BOY.

BOY!!

We stared at her in disbelief. (For some reason, we'd both become convinced we were going to have a girl.)

Our shock must have been evident, because she felt she needed to drive the point home by creating this picture, with an arrow conveniently pointing to the evidence at hand (click to enlarge):


(She also wrote it in block letters at the top left, with three exclamation points, in case we STILL hadn't wrapped our brains around it after leaving the office. Smartass.)

I looked at T. He looked at me. We stared at the tech. She snorted. We cried. And grinned. And laughed. And asked, "Are you sure?" about five million times.

(We would have reacted this way if it'd been a girl, too, you know. We are emotional schmoes, regardless of gender.)

**********

So today, as I arrive at 31 weeks (!!) please allow me to scream from the rooftops: WE ARE HAVING A SON!!

We are so incredibly thrilled.

I've been feeling great, aside from some low back pain (this boy -- BOY! -- loves to lay looooow in my belly, and apparently stand on my spine) and massive heartburn (duh) and occasional weepiness-interspersed-with-yelling-for-no-reason (triple duh). The child is moving around all over the place and has perfected the one-two punch maneuver, in addition to the somersault.

Life is good.

I have many other things to share, but this post is long enough. For now, let me leave you with a few more pictures of our boy.

First, a profile shot:



Are you as bad at deciphering ultrasound photos as I am? Here's a labeled version; he's facing left (click to enlarge):



And yes, that's his leg extending straight out over his head in the shot above. He is in this position for every.single.ultrasound. I tell T this means he's going to be a ballet dancer. He prefers to think "kicker for the NFL." :)

Profile shot number two, in which T swears there's a pretzel floating around with the child:



And finally...the bottoms of both of his feet. I mean... COME ON.

Weeks 15-17: STAY OUT OF MY PREGNANT WAY. (And good stuff, too.)

Want the whole baby scoop? See all previous posts here.

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First things first: It's been a few weeks since I last posted, let alone gave some kind of baby update. You know. Life. Work. Lots and lots of work. My day job is rewarding but demanding, and it's been especially demanding of late. Something has to give, and unfortunately, this blog is usually the first thing to go. It cannot be helped. I'm sorry. (And also sorry that, as a result, this post will be kind of long.)

And that's about all the apologizing you'll get out of me because the theme for the last few weeks has been Laugh Cry About Nothing Yell About Something Stupid PREGNANT SHANNON SMASH Cry More Laugh Hysterically Rinse Lather Repeat.

In other words: Moody.

OK, let's just say it: BITCHY.

My husband looooooooooves this part of pregnancy.

:)

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't aware of it; I am. But to some extent it feels like I just can't...control it? To me, it feels like PMS turned up to 11. In any case, I am on the verge of tears and/or yelling all.the.time and it is super fun for all of us.

However, physically? I'm feeling really, really...good! So good, in fact, that it's been a little unnerving. I commented to my mother a week or so ago that I kind of miss the nausea and constant exhaustion because at least that let me know stuff was happening. Then that mostly went away, and I felt mostly normal (well, except for the aforementioned Exorcist Bitchfacedness), and I kind of missed it.

(Only I could find a way to complain about NOT feeling like I'm going to puke. Therapy, I need it.)

Only physical complaint: I've now hit the inevitable point where I need to pee every 5.3 seconds. As Two Pretzels will tell you, I find this INCREDIBLY annoying. (I hate stopping what I'm doing to pee; I don't like to be interrupted.)

All right. Enough about the (very inconsequential) negative. On to the positive!

I AM FEELING THE BABY MOVE.

This actually started around the end of Week 14. It felt like something was tickling me from the inside. My thoughts:

• There is absolutely no way I'm feeling the baby move this early.


• I'm a big girl; big girls don't feel movement this early.


• I just have really weird gas.

When I had that really weird gas around the same times every day for a week and a half, I finally gave in and accepted that either A) I am the gassiest human being on the planet (still debatable) or B) OMG I AM FEELING THE BABY MOVE.

Allow me to state the obvious and say this is The Coolest Thing Ever, and knowing that it will only get stronger and cooler is, well, really really cool.
(The baby has stolen my vocabulary, apparently. And my thesaurus. Sticky in-utero fingers.)

For me, this is making the pregnancy seem really, truly real. There is a person in there, and he or she is tickling me. Well, more likely punching me, but his or her fists are teeny-weeny, so it's more like fist smashes, but from a tiny soft angel. Angel Smashes. Yes.

And speaking of teeny-weeny, since we last spoke, Angel Smash has breezed right past the navel orange and avocado and is now the size of...an onion! Although you must picture an onion that's about five or so inches long, which, to me, seems like an awfully big onion. But whatever.

Allow me a moment for reflection: I cannot believe we're almost halfway there. It seems like a dream. On one hand, it feels like we've known about this pregnancy FOREVER (T asks me daily, "Is it time for the baby to be born YET?" We're excited). On the other hand, there's still SO much to do, that I'm actually happy we still have 5.5 months to go.

Thankfully (happily, gratefully), I'm now on vacation, so we'll be doing a lot of things over the next two weeks:

• Clearing out the eventual nursery (which is now, as my mother puts it, our "Employees Only" room


• Checking out childcare options in our area


• Finding out what kind of classes are available at the hospital we're using


• Figuring out what furniture and other big items we need


• Registering for baby stuff


• Talking about names (but still not sharing any, so don't get excited)


• NOT finding out the gender

We do have our 20-week ultrasound next Friday (not quite 20 weeks, but close, and I'll be across the country during week 20), and I can't wait to see Kicky Magoo again. I don't even care that I'll have to turn away at some point: I just love seeing him or her thriving in there. It will never get old.

Next week, I'll give you my lament about finding maternity clothes for the, um, more voluptuous expectant mother. Hint: You should really like looking as if you're on safari. At least that's what clothes manufacturers seem to think.

Baby Q&A: Week 13

So, it seems it’s now my turn to continue our bloggy tradition of pregnancy-related Q&As, and I am more than happy to oblige. Although my day job makes it hard to blog regularly (clearly), I’m going to do my best to A) make these updates weekly, and B) not let my blog become ALL about the bambino.

This I solemnly vow to you. Or, you know, let’s see how things go.

****

So, you’re pregnant!
Um, yeah – I think we’ve covered that.

Oh, sorry. So…how far along are you?
I am 13 weeks today! Just at the very end of the first trimester. According to a variety of sources, our baby is about the size of a peach this week.

(I'd love to be the one assigning visual imagery to fetus size. "This week your baby is the size of a football, if it was deflated and rolled into a tiny coil!" Clearly I missed my calling.)

How have you been feeling?
I’ve been very lucky so far – although I’ve had kind of a mild, pervasive queasiness throughout the first trimester, it HAS been very mild, and I only threw up once. Otherwise, I’ve just been incredibly exhausted – I’ve been taking lots and lots of naps. (Often on the weekends I’d only wake up to eat.)

But, overall, I’ve been feeling pretty good! As my grandma said, "Pregnancy agrees with me." :)

Any cravings or aversions?
No cravings to speak of – certainly not the pickles-and-ice-cream combo that everyone seems to think is SO HILARIOUS. I don’t really like the smell of meat, although I haven’t had any problems eating it.

Actually, vegetables have been the only thing that have turned my stomach while I’m eating them. Obviously I can’t get away with not eating veggies, so there’s been many a time when I’ve forced myself to chew, chew, swallow, grimace my way through a plate of spinach or pile of green beans. Blech.

And…when are you due again? You started out saying March 5 and now your header just says “March.” What gives?
Yeah, apparently my due date depends on who you ask. My doctors have told us both March 1 and March 5, and they keep changing their minds. Pretty much every due date calculator we’ve tried says March 5, because my cycle tends to be 32 days instead of 28. We try to tell the doctors this, and some of them hear us and some don’t (they also say we’re measuring a little ahead of the March 5 date). So the “official” due date is March 1, but we think it’s a little later.

Do we really care this much? Um, no. (Although March 5 is T’s birthday—and my grandpa’s birthday—so that makes it kind of cool.) And the likelihood of the baby being born on its due date is slim anyway. It’s just annoying that the doctors can’t get on the same page and listen to us.

Anyway. This is why we’re just going with “March” at this point.

How does T feel about everything?
He would probably roll his eyes at my choice of words, but I would describe him as “over-the-moon excited.” I’ll go on and on about this more in a future post, but: For a man who’s never been around many little kids, he is just made to be a daddy. (Watching him play with my niece is just the best thing ever.)

As far as the actual pregnancy goes, he is incredibly doting and attentive to me, slightly overprotective (although he claims this is because I’m incredibly clumsy; there may be some truth to this) and completely involved. I think he knows more about pregnancy and childbirth than I do at this point (he’s a researcher). I could not ask for a better partner in all of this.

OK, let’s hit the top three questions everyone is asking you right now:

1. Are you going to find out the gender? We’re still debating this, but we’ve pretty much decided we are NOT going to find out the gender until the baby’s born. As T says, “There are so few true surprises in life, and one of the big ones is being in the delivery room, and hearing the doctor say, ‘It’s a ____!’ Why would we deprive ourselves of that?” Well said, husband. I love the idea of finding out the same day we meet him or her. So far people are either really annoyed by this (as our neighbor said, “I need to know whether to buy regular camo or pink camo!” Oh, dear Lord…) or totally supportive.
   



2. What names are you thinking about? So…that’s the other thing. Regardless of whether or not we find out the gender ahead of time, we will not be sharing our potential names. This is partly because we don’t want any negative comments from the peanut gallery (however well-meaning), and partly because we like the idea of keeping that as something that’s just ours until the day. I’m sure this will be another controversial decision, but it’s ours to make – so there.
   



3. Why did you wait so long to have kids? Hoo boy. We are hearing this a lot right now. I will probably write more about this at a later time, but for right now I’ll just say two things: A) We are 34 and 36, not 50, and B) this baby is coming along at the exact right time for US. And we are incredibly happy, excited, thrilled and grateful for this blessing.
   

So…this is getting kind of long. How ‘bout you end this week by telling us a random fact about your pregnancy?
All righty then. Random fact: I found my first gray hair EVER during my 9th week of pregnancy. True story. You’d better believe I will lord that over our future child when he or she is old enough to tease about those things.

Just a final note: Thank you all for all your wonderful comments and for sharing our excitement the way you have been. I could not ask for a more supportive network, and I can’t wait to pick your mommy brains, both during this pregnancy and once the little (appropriately camouflaged) bundle arrives!