The Business of Being Born

I'm not actually sure this blog post is ready to be posted.  If I were a good writer, I'd plan this out thoughtfully and structure it, but really...for a pregnant lady with a short attention span and a full-time job, that's a lot to ask, so I'm just gonna stick with my usual stream-of-consciousness blogging style and word-vomit out what I'm thinking.  If it veers off, let's just hope it comes back around, ok?

A couple of Facebook friends posted that they had watched the documentary "The Business of Being Born" on Netflix.  Just in reading the synopsis offered on Netflix, I was immediately skeptical.  I don't watch a lot of documentaries, because they tend to be pretty one-sided (though, I'm already a hypocrite because my Instant Queue includes a documentary on how awesome pit bulls are, and I will hear no arguments to the contrary!), but I thought that, since I'll be delivering a baby in the next few months, I should give this one a shot.

Let me pause for a moment and direct you to a friend's blog.  Lindsay wrote about this documentary just this morning, and she and I, while alike in a lot of our thoughts, had very different reactions to this documentary.  Neither are wrong, neither are absolutely right.  But I wanted to point you in the direction of someone who LOVED it, as I found myself generally annoyed by huge sections of it.

However, I think one thing that we both can agree on from jump street is that we as women have a responsibility to educate ourselves and be advocates for ourselves and make choices that work the best for us and for our bodies and circumstances.  A lot of the statistics offered up in the first half hour or so of the documentary regarding OB/GYNs, hospitals, C-sections, etc. in America, in my opinion are because a large percentage of American women just assume that birth is a terrible, scary, painful thing that only the mighty hospital doctor can help us through.  The documentary even mentions (and I agree) that the media (movies and television) has done nothing to change this view of labor and delivery. Think about it...what do you see in TV and movies?  Women screaming bloody murder until the mighty doctor comes in with his epidural and makes everything all better and hands you a fat pink baby wrapped up in a blanket.

I also agreed with the documentary that scheduled C-sections and "designer births" made popular by celebrities are a terribly selfish (not to mention unnatural) way to go.  Now, before you hang me up on a cross for that statement, let me amend to say that I know that there are many circumstances under which a woman needs a C-section.  Even a scheduled one.  My own sweet cousin is scheduled to have one on April 2nd, and I know it's not for "convenience" or to avoid the pain of a vaginal birth.  Every woman's situation is different.

However...the documentary spends a good half hour (at least) at the beginning of the film basically making hospitals and OB/GYN doctors out to be money-grubbing crooks who are just waiting, scalpel in hand, to give us drugs and cut us open and charge us ridiculous amounts of money for their time and facilities (hence the use of "business" in the film's title). One of the women interviewed actually said that OBs should just "only focus on surgery because they have no idea what they're doing with natural births."

o_O

I hate blanket statements, just for the record.  Just like "not all midwives are uneducated hippies" (which nobody *I* know ever said but is probably a fairly common thought), neither are all OBs butchers who care nothing about what a woman wants. 

So, suffice it to say I felt compelled to turn off the film several times, because I really didn't want to sit through another 70 minutes of anti-hospital/OB lectures.  But I'm glad I watched the whole thing.

I got to watch some actual, filmed live home-births (at which I waffled between covering my eyes and gagging a little [hey, I never needed to see that much of Ricki Lake naked or get that up close and personal with someone's baby crowning], and getting teary-eyed at the true miracle of giving birth), and I learned a lot about how far we actually have come as a nation regarding the medical interventions given to women in the past decades.

The parts about the "Twilight Sleep," for example, would scare anyone off of drugs during delivery.  Women having to be tied down to tables because they were trying to claw up the walls because of the drugs and then remembering none of it and being handed a baby that they had no recollection of birthing? HOLY CRAP NO THANK YOU.  And a fairly good point was made about how there really hasn't been enough time passed since the introduction of epidurals and Pitocin and other medications to see what the true long-term effects of these drugs could be.

Also I learned that I want to stay far, far away from Pitocin, but that's a personal choice I made, and one with which I plan to discuss with my OB (who, for the record, is completely on board with a natural birth and avoiding a C-section -- he said himself that it's the best overall and the easiest from which to recover).  One of my favorite little nuggets of trivia had something to do with the fact that (like that? this is where I should go look up the research and the exact statement, but whatever) if monkeys were given the drugs we women are given during childbirth, they would have nothing to do with their babies.  The drugs prevent (or manufacture) the natural oxytocin produced when we give birth, which is what helps us to forget the pain we just went through and produce strong endorphines helpful in bonding with our babies.  Pretty interesting, huh?

Also also, I was glad to see that there was a documented instance in which a woman (Ricki Lake's fellow filmmaker, actually) who had every plan and intention to give birth at home found that she had a medical need to get to a hospital and have an eventual C-section.  Her baby was premature, breech, and had the cord wrapped around his neck.  An intervention was necessary, and her doctor was on board from jump street with her plans for a home-birth and promised her no judgment or finger-wagging should she end up at the hospital.  I think that I would've written off this documentary completely had it not been for that particular OB (who seemed awesome, BTW) and this woman's situation.  The midwife knew when it wasn't working, and they did what was necessary to ensure the most successful birth for mother and baby.

(I did feel like Ricki was totally looking judgy and disappointed when she was talking to her fellow filmmaker, asked her if she was disappointed that she couldn't have a home birth, and heard the answer, "Not really" from her partner in crime.  But maybe that was just me projecting Ricki's pretty obvious bias onto her facial expressions. Heh.)

So I learned a lot. I'm glad I watched it, just because I know some things I didn't know before and I now have some questions ready for when Michael and I start childbirth classes next month and for my next OB appointment. 

Lindsay's blog (linked up in an earlier paragraph) talks a lot about our choices as women: choices to get pregnant, to stay pregnant, to choose what works best for us and our babies when we deliver, but also our tendency as women to judge other women's choices. 

So I want to offer up the big ol' disclaimer that I don't judge a woman's choice to deliver at a hospital, a birth center, or in a kiddie pool in her own home.  I don't judge a woman's choice to have an epidural or not.  I don't judge a woman because I see her preparing formula for her baby as opposed to attaching said baby to a boob.  However...

I do judge one choice: the choice not to research and educate oneself. To be spoonfed and accept everything we hear as Scripture and to ignore what may be a nagging feeling to ask questions and even make some hard decisions, such as switching doctors (or choosing not to have a doctor) or deciding that, despite all of your plans and wishes, you really do need that episiotomy you didn't want to have. Any decision which puts you or your unborn child in danger because of a lack of research and/or knowledge is just something I can't get on board with.

We were blessed with brains and with intuition, and we are fortunate to live in a country where we have many options.  It's our responsibility to use those gifts and those options to the best advantage of our bodies and our families.  We owe it to ourselves and to future generations of women to set examples of being advocates for ourselves.

I owe it to myself to know what's best for me and for my baby and my body.  So, in conclusion, I'm glad I watched this film (as biased as I felt it was at times), because I learned things.  And I feel even more secure in my decisions to hopefully deliver without the use of drugs or interventions, in a hospital room, with an OB I trust and respect one hundred percent.  And I feel pride and intense respect for any woman who uses her education and knowledge to make the decision to give birth in a tub, in the arms of her husband and to the sounds of soothing encouragement of a midwife in her own home. 

Women are amazing creatures, and I'm proud to be one of them.  I'm honored to have the ability to experience childbirth in whichever way I decide. 

Maybe I am starting to feel like a "sacred vessel" after all...

I Give Up

I give up on trying not to be "That Pregnant Woman" on social media.

Whatever.  We're all bad about it...whatever is going on and completely consuming our life consumes our Facebook, Twitter and Instagram feeds.  Whether it's a show that we're in, or a politically-driven issue we have to post memes and articles about, or whatever...it's how this whole social media thing goes, really.

I've kept a lot of my deepest thoughts and fears to myself or to my husband and very closest friends, of course, but I have really felt like the things I've posted have helped me in one way or another.  Asking current moms about their experiences with certain products or issues...posting weekly or bi-weekly baby bump photos...or just blogging about how I've felt has helped me.  I'm definitely one who thrives in a "community," and my social community (most specifically on Facebook, because those are all people I do know in real life and love and trust, for the most part) has been very important to me and very helpful. It helps me to bounce feelings or thoughts or questions off of others and take in all of the responses and then make my own decisions. 

I also give up on trying to please everyone.  I've tried hard (too hard, at times) to maintain a sense of "cool, pre-pregnancy Mandy" throughout this process, but I'm giving up.  Actually, no.  I'm giving in.  I'm giving in to the changes that are happening to me and to my family and in my life.  Things are going to change.  It's too hard to fight them and try to stay this person who tries to make sure she doesn't make anyone mad by not going out somewhere or doing something when really I want to be at home. I need to be at home.

I'm amazed at how much I've changed in the past couple of years.  I used to be dying to get out of the house and be social.  Now, when I'm out, I want to go home.  I want to go sit on the couch with my husband and my dog and watch t.v. and laugh at our stupid wrong answers on Jeopardy! and fall asleep intermittently even though I just woke up/am about to go to bed anyway.

Here's a good example: I went to see some friends in a show this past weekend, and I desperately wanted to leave before the show was over.  It was a great show, one of my favorites actually, and I was really enjoying the production, but I just started to feel the need to go home almost to the point of anxiety levels.  Granted, I started to get physically uncomfortable, too, in those theatre chairs.  This baby likes to hang out all nestled up in my rib cage, it feels like, so sitting for a long time starts to get really painful.

During a Play Readers meeting a few weeks ago, I was anxiously checking the clock because I wanted to go home. This has NEVER been something I've struggled with.

I used to revel in my alone time at home, so I could watch whatever I wanted on TV or Netflix, but now I just watch the clock and my phone until Michael comes home or lets me know he's on his way home from work or a commitment.

I'm sure some of it's hormonal, but I also really think that God is using this time to shape me into the mother I will become, and how that will change me as a wife.  This is a blog post for another time, and I really do want to write about it, but I have a genuine fear of Michael and I becoming just parents and tending to forget that we are also partners in a marriage.  I'm ready to be home. I'm ready to be a nurturer to my child and a partner to my husband. I still long to create art and be onstage; that's not going to change.  It's also a fundamental part of me individually. 

I want my projects to enhance who I am but not define who I am.  I want motherhood to enhance who I am and not define who I am.  I want my marriage to make me a better person, but not to define who I am. It's a tricky, tricky balance.

I guess we never stop changing, do we? 

I'm okay with that.  I may put more of it "out here" than people are comfortable with, but I figure that for every annoying post that causes someone to hide me, I'm also hiding someone for an annoying political post, so it all eventually evens out anyway.

The word vomit helps me, and the support from friends helps me.  If I lose friends because I put my family and myself first, and/or because I'm too honest or public about it, I think that might be okay too.

Thanks for making it this far, if you did, and thanks -- as always -- for reading. 

Weighing on my Mind

With an emphasis on the "weight."

Since this blog has spent a good deal of time discussing my weight loss journey and my goals to living a healthier lifestyle overall, both physically and emotionally/spiritually, I think now would be a good time to talk about this aspect of pregnancy...

...the dreaded weight gain. 

I knew I would struggle with this aspect of pregnancy, at least mentally.  I had no idea how my body would change or gain weight, because I've never been pregnant before.  I also know that it's very different with every woman and even with every individual pregnancy the same woman experiences. But I knew that I'd struggle with the reality that the needle on the scale was going to go up higher and higher, whether I liked it or not.

Some of the things I was told:

* Your body is gonna gain what it's gonna gain, so eat what you want.
* You started out overweight, so you really shouldn't gain more than 10-15 lbs (by the lovely woman who works for United Healthcare's "Healthy Pregnancy" program on the phone...a woman who doesn't know anything about me other than my starting, pre-pregnancy weight).
* I'd like to see you get to this weight before you get pregnant, and keep your weight gain to about 30lbs.

Take a wild guess as to which I took the most seriously. 

If you guessed the third statement, you win the prize!  That was the advice of my doctor a year ago, when I became his patient and he encouraged me to drop about 20lbs to be at what he considered a healthy weight for me before getting pregnant, and what he said to me when I re-visited him after getting pregnant.

Allow me to go off on a tiny tangent here to say how much I love my OB.  This is why I stayed with him after that first visit in February of 2012.  He gave me a very matter-of-fact instruction to get to a healthy weight for me -- not to fit what was on a chart for my height and age.  He's also very matter-of-fact that I need to get off my butt more than I have in this pregnancy if I want to keep the weight gain under control.

Anyway, it's time to list some facts:

* I met my goal weight, or got within a pound or so (I need to check with my doctor's office to see what my actual weight was at that first visit after the positive pregnancy test) right before I got pregnant.
* So far, I have gained approximately 12-15 lbs (as of my last visit on February 8th).  Again, I need to get some legit numbers.
* I've let my eating habits slide big time because of how I've felt during the first trimester and a half.
* I've felt better and could be eating better and exercising more, but bad habits are so easy to get back into that I've let myself be lazy.
* If I'm careful, and if I gain about a pound more per week (which is pretty normal during the third trimester), I'll meet my goal of only 30lbs weight gain.

This will still make me heavy.  Heavier than I've been in a long time.  But I still have time to make sure that this weight gain is for the pregnancy, and not because I've allowed myself to have 3 Slurpees a week and all the candy I want (this baby either LOVES sugar, or my body missed it so much as I was approaching my goal weight that it's craving it like crazy...).

I'm getting nervous, though. I feel very big and awkward.  I feel incredibly nervous about my Glucose test on Thursday.  I'm nervous that I'm going to get lectured on weight gain.  I'm nervous that in my third trimester I'll hate how I look and I'll resent the pregnancy because, yes, unfortunately, I am that vain.  To be honest, I look forward to having this baby MORE so I can get back to a body shape I'm comfortable with than so that I can meet my baby.  OF COURSE I'm excited to meet this little dude or gal, too. 

But when you've struggled with weight and vanity issues your whole life, that doesn't just go away during pregnancy.  So it's a daily struggle and prayer to make sure that I'm giving the baby and my body what it needs (healthy food, water, exercise, etc.), still giving in occasionally to the MASSIVE sugar cravings in moderation (because, hey, you just don't know how singularly focused the mind can become on getting that Slurpee), and easing myself back into some healthy habits without starving myself. 

Because the fact is, I need more food than I did before. I need to eat more calories.  But they can be good calories and smart choices.  I'm not "eating for two."  Not two adults anyway. 

I'm also taking lots of pictures.  I'm THAT girl.  I've felt NO shame in taking selfies and posting them on my Flickr and Facebook accounts, because it's nice to hear people tell you that you look great when you are feeling more and more like a Weeble Wobble.

And finally, I leave you with a comparison shot (and the shot on the left will be my inspiration once the Little One is born).  The picture on the left is less than a month before I found out I was pregnant, and the picture on the right was taken this morning.  It's a fairly drastic change in my head, but in reality I can see in my face and arms that I am gaining weight where the baby is, mostly (no comment on the boobs), and that I haven't completely let myself go.

Milestones

23w6d

Tomorrow, I will be 24 weeks pregnant.  On the message boards, women who have reached this week of pregnancy would celebrate their "V-day."  I had no idea what this meant.  Not wanting to sound stupid, I just kind of waited it out until it was explained or until someone else asked.  Turns out that, when pregnancy-related, V-day means viability day. 

I did some internet research and the consensus seems to be that 24 weeks is when the pregnancy is considered viable.  One source said that, while the survival chance of a fetus delivered at 23 weeks was only 17%, that number more than doubles to 39% at 24 weeks (and continues to increase the longer the bun is in the oven).  Before 24 weeks, hospitals will not necessarily do anything possible to medically intervene and save a baby delivered early.  It's not because they're jerks...I'm sure it's because of key developments that have to happen in utero (I'm not a doctor, don't quote me on ANY of this).  

So...while I obviously want this little dude or dudette to stay warm and toasty and safe for as long as possible, it's a huge relief to know that his or her survival chances just get better and better from here on out.  God willing, we will go full term.

This milestone occurring this week made me think of some of my favorite pregnancy milestones so far.  Really only two come to mind, and the second one happened last night: finding out I was pregnant, and my husband feeling the baby kick from the outside for the first time last night.

I wish I could accurately put into words how it felt seeing the positive pregnancy test and walking in to show it to Michael...whose eyes grew to the size of dinner plates in disbelief.  Maybe one day I'll sit down and really try to type out the story: the way I felt, the way he felt, the whole hazy day of just going about our routine but occasionally staring off into the distance and smiling at each other, knowing that our lives had just changed.  I feel like, since I'm terrible at writing things down and journaling, I should do that while my memory of that day is still pretty fresh.

The baby has, just in the last few days, REALLY started kicking.  Well, s/he may have been kicking this whole time, but with the front-facing placenta (I will NEVER like that word...) I just haven't really felt it.  But WHOA do I feel it now! Strong, hard kicks...sometimes so hard that, if I'm looking down at just the right moment, I can see my stomach move a little bit.

Last night, I made Michael sit right next to me on the couch so, if Baby got active, I could quickly grab his hand.  This ornery child (gee, I wonder which parent that comes from...) would completely stop every time I put his hand on my stomach, but finally there was one hard kick right when I put his hand on my stomach.  I didn't even have to ask "Did you feel that?" because I could see his head snap towards me in my peripheral vision.  I looked over and he was smiling from ear to ear.  Baby was kind enough to kick a couple more times, so he knew he wasn't imagining things.

I have to admit, I got super choked up immediately at this milestone for Michael. I can't imagine what it's like to be the husband.  It probably doesn't start to feel real at all until your wife starts to really show (unless she's had a tough first trimester and a half, which luckily I did not), and then it must be hard to hear her talk about feeling the baby move when you can't feel it yourself.  I am so happy that I can share this pregnancy with him going forward in this small way. 

Feeling (and seeing!) these distinct movements has really brought this whole thing to a new level of reality for me, and now for Michael as well.  It's taken almost 6 months, but I finally am very aware in a brand new way that we are having a baby. That it's not just something happening that I can't feel or see, but it's real and it has a personality (I think this baby LOVES music!) and it moves around and is just growing and changing every day.

I bet you're all happy to see a cynical, whiny sourpuss like me finally really getting into this, huh?  I still hate sleeping on my side, and I want to cry when I see pictures pre-pregnancy and how close I got to my goal weight...I miss my body!  So there's that, just to make sure you know that someone else didn't hijack my blog.  :)

Hump Day Bump Day -- Celebrating all Forms

I call this look "The Pregnant Ballerina."

Did I mention that I finally caved on the Message Boards? I did.  I still stand by what I said in an earlier post about how crazy some of them get.  I'm very lucky that the board for my birth month (June 2013) is relatively awesome and drama-free.  I also try to stay out of the threads regarding potentially incendiary topics, which helps, I think.  But anywho, it's been a lot of fun at times...especially Wednesdays.

Why?  Because Wednesdays are known as Hump Day Bump Day (HDBD).  Everyone posts a photo of her current baby bump, how far along they are, whether or not they're a first time mom, height, etc.

First of all, everyone always looks adorable.  It's so fun to see the smiles growing as the bellies grow each week.  But that's not what absolutely thrills and fascinates me about these weekly threads...

What I absolutely love to the point of actually getting teary-eyed sometimes (man I'm such a hippie...) is how different yet absolutely beautiful every woman looks.  No matter her height, shape, size, outfit, hair color, skin color....it's just amazing.

Now before you blow me off as being some crazy lady who is in absolute awe at the wonder of the children growing in our expanding wombs...it's not that part that gets to me (although that's stupid awesome, too!).

What fascinates and excites me is how differently every woman shows and grows with her pregnancy (first, second, fourth...you get the idea).  Some of the moms who aren't doing this for the first time will post a side-by-side comparison picture -- this time THIS pregnancy vs. this time PAST pregnancy, and the differences can be so awesome!

Also, everyone is SO supportive of each other.  There are women who are weeks farther along than I am, and SMALLER...and women who are weeks behind where I am with bigger bumps than mine...but it's such a supportive environment!  I sure hope that anyone who thinks "I shouldn't be this big already," or "Why am I not bigger by now?!" feels as uplifted as I do after this weekly post.

It just serves to prove the "every body/woman/baby is different" that I keep hearing throughout this pregnancy...but it also proves a great lesson even minus the baby bumps.  There is so much beauty in every woman, no matter her shape, the size of her jeans, how tall she is...and these weekly posts have been a tremendous reminder of just how we are all "fearfully and wonderfully made" by our Creator with loving hands.

EDIT TO ADD: I just finally opened my daily devotional email and this was today's key verse: But Lord, You are our father. We are like clay, and You are the potter; Your hands made us all. (Isaiah 64:8).  Pretty cool and appropriate, huh? :)

Serenity vs. Pregspectations

Do you like that word? Pregspectations? I made it up last night when I was thinking about the expectations of a woman -- or at least my own expectations -- and of those around her when she is pregnant.

Word combinations. Worbinations. They're fun!

Anyway...

It's not news to anyone who knows me or who has been reading this blog that I've been having a bit of trouble feeling really connected to this pregnancy and this baby.  The most I've felt that it's really real was last Friday during and after our anatomy scan ultrasound. I got to see the outline of an actual developing little person inside me, which was super cool.  But, overall? I just...don't.

I pray for the baby, of course. Every single day. I think about him/her a lot, especially when I'm in the car listening to music and singing.  I wonder if s/he hears me and likes the sound of my voice. I wonder if it recognizes Carmen's barking and Michael's voice.  But that only really happens in specific moments.

I have friends who are loving every moment of being pregnant and having these serene, powerful connections to their babies. I'm happy for them, but it makes me feel...well let's just be honest.  This is a blog after all.  It makes me feel like a bad Mom already. 

I have definitely started enjoying pregnancy more, but as of this point in time I don't see myself being the kind of woman who misses being pregnant. I feel great, overall.  I'm having fun picking out outfits for myself that challenge me, finding new ways to look cute and incorporate my style into maternity wear. I'm SO GLAD to have started taking the steps necessary to get the house and the baby's room ready. I liked registering (even though each time I've very definitely hit The Wall and started getting overwhelmed).  So I'm not miserable and uncomfortable (anymore) (again, yet). 

I just really still see this as a means to an end.

Recently, several friends have given birth...and even more will before it's our turn to meet the Little One.  Those are the times I get really emotional -- when I see the first photos of the new family.  Mom crying as the baby is handed to her.  Dad struggling to keep his emotions in check as he holds his son/daughter for the first time....so maybe that's gonna be our strongest memory and emotion, too.

Maybe some people really feel like parents during the pregnancy, but for others it takes holding the baby in their arms.  I think I -- we, actually -- might be the latter. Michael and I talked about this last night as I was mulling all of this over, and I talked about this a little with a friend today, too.

Really I think I need to just let go of the worry.  The worry that something will be wrong with the baby.  The worry that something is wrong with me.  The worry about what others think/will think about my decisions and choices. My friend today asked me if I was giving anything up for Lent. I answered that I don't really observe Lent, but I'm not opposed to the idea of giving up something that I don't need...and not just until Easter Sunday. 

So here it is.  I'm giving up worry.  I'm giving up the stress that might even be keeping me from enjoying this (relatively) short process more than I could be. I'm giving up the EXPECTATIONS that I think I should feel just because someone else did/does. 

I'm accepting serenity.  I'm accepting peace and acceptance. I'm accepting that my experience is valid and it's mine.

Feel free to hold me to this, friends. Just remember to do it nicely. :)

Half-Baked

20-week selfie

I've been wanting to post an update for SO long here on the blog, and the halfway point seemed to be a good place to come back...except that the halfway point was still a week before our ultrasound/anatomy scan and, being as superstitious and anxious as I tend to be, I decided to wait just one more week to make sure everything was a-OK before posting.

This morning was our appointment with our anatomy scan ultrasound.  I wasn't nervous about it at all until some time yesterday afternoon when I started wondering just how many things might be wrong, developmentally, with our little Junebug.  Yes...I still call it a BabyMonster most of the time, but come on, I had to have at least ONE cutesy obnoxious name for it.  I promise that's as bad as it will get, though.

Last night I prayed not only for my own peace of mind, but that the baby would be fine when we got to take our first look at it in three months.  I knew deep in my heart that, no matter what the tech saw or the doctor relayed to us, I would find peace.  I know so surely and truly that God holds us -- and this baby -- in His hands and that He is in control.

I am not in control.

My doctor has told me, my logic has told me...but it's something I need to be reminded of from time to time.  And when I do release all of this into God's hands, the peace is...peaceful.

Sonograms are incredible, wonderful gifts of technology, but they aren't always perfect and they aren't always indicative of what you're going to actually see when you deliver. I know this, and knowing this gave me lots of peace this morning...which allowed me to enjoy THIS even more:

21-week u/s picture -- check out that rootbeer belly

I mean...that's a baby.  That's a BABY that is growing and hanging out inside my body.  We made that.  Look at that profile! That's a FACE! And a TUMMY! And...I think...an arm? 

I haven't cried looking at the picture.  But the wonder I feel is...wonderful?  I'm not so good with the words today.  It's just incredible to me that there's life inside me.  No, I'm not saying that I feel like a Blessed Vessel.  I do a lot more than I did months ago in my very first post, sure, but it's just more surreal than anything else. That's inside of me. And, at some point, it's going to come out. And grow and learn and speak and discover and....okay NOW I may have something in my eye...

So on to some stats:

We are still TEAM GREEN! The sonogram technician didn't even LOOK in the pertinent area to check, so nobody knows what the sex of this baby is except for God. The only person it's driving crazy seems to be my mother-in-law, but I have a feeling she'll be pretty darn excited no matter what. :)

Some movement is happening! Finally! Over the last week or so, if all the stars are aligned (i.e., I'm laying flat, quietly, relaxing, and really concentrating on the baby) I have felt some little thumps and kicks.  For a long time I was starting to get concerned that I hadn't felt him/her move yet, but I knew that as a first-time mom it might be as late as 25 weeks before I did. Found out today (WARNING -- MEDICAL TERMS COMING UP THAT MAY BE TMI FOR YOU) that I have an "anterior placenta," which means it's in the front instead of the back.  So there's padding between the baby and my stomach.  So, he/she will have to get a little heavier before I really feel a lot of hard kicks. I'm ok with that.  Just glad to know what's up.

I'm feeling great.  Really.  The horrible gag reflex finally went away.  I've had more of an appetite (which is speeding up the weight gain some, so I need to be a little more diligent about healthy food choices and get off my [increasingly fat] butt for some exercise soon), but also more heartburn.  So no more excuses re: cravings.  RELATED: my next appointment includes the 1-hour glucose test, so the Slurpees may have to take a backseat (*sob*) for a while.

We've decided (at least 90% sure) on names.  But we aren't telling, so....sorry. :)

We're finally starting to make plans to progress on the baby's room. I guess the little babe needs a place to sleep (NOT in our bed) (and probably NOT in Carmen's bed...), so we need to get the nursery ready.  As with the registry (which is also started, but not finished), the most overwhelming part is getting started.  Once that happens this weekend, I'll feel better.

I'm starting to make a mental list which I'll eventually write down of all the to-do's we still need to do.  I'm not even sure what all needs to be done, but just making a list makes me feel better.

.........I think that's it?  I mean there's not much else to tell right now!

Second trimester is pretty fun, actually.