"It can't hurt to TRY..."

After the endless hours of psychotically cleaning, crying then coping with the concept of the "c-section pooch", reading anything I could get my hands on, packing my bag, and making my home 'surgery friendly', Ben is not here. Although I was frustrated at the time, and looked at the doctor like she had two heads, I know this is for the best.

I was told I was absolutely going to need a c-section- not by one, but at least three different doctors. I was informed that after 34 weeks, if the placenta hadn’t moved away from the cervix, it wasn’t going anywhere...WRONG! Right before my amnio to confirm that his lungs were developed enough for delivery, we decided to do one last ultrasound...primarily to make me feel better. A doctor and a tech confirmed that my placenta is still low lying, but has shifted off to the side leaving JUST enough room for this baby to squeeze on by, or so I hope.

In the words of the glorious doctor whom I had met for the first time- "It can't hurt to try a vaginal delivery." Who the hell is she kidding? Now I know after watching thousands of birthing videos on you tube, after spending two nights in the hospital listening to the screams of women in labor, and after the gazillion stories I have heard from total strangers waiting in line at Walgreens that it hurts...A LOT! Episiotomies, tears, blood, stretching...yeah, I think I'll be a little pissed if they tell me I still need a c-section after an attempt at a traditional labor.

My doctor is on vacation this week, and when I asked the dink who is covering for him exactly how far my placenta had moved, she said "They won't attempt unless it is greater than 2 cm away". Ok, so I ask how far mine is "greater than 2cm away." Ok, are we talking 2.1 cm, 4 cm..."It doesn't specify". My Lord, do they know how to calm down an irrational pregnant woman.

To further enhance my frustration, the statistics were so, so in my favor. I knew that I would be having this baby on August 31. I was still in the comfort zone of weight, right around 30lbs. So what did I decide to do? Well, after months of watching what I ate, bypassing cravings, walking a few miles a day (until I was bed-rested)? I hit up every Mickey D's on the east coast for that snack size, heavenly, scrumptious, Reese's McFlurry. Let me tell you...my second chin will confirm this.

So now I sit here bouncing on a medicine ball, a bottle of hot sauce in my lap, praying to Jesus that Benjamin will grace this world prior to my due date. Although I know nothing about a traditional labor, I am confident that I can and will successfully push this child out of me. Even though the internal ultrasound penis like probe, condom and all hurt like a bitch the other day, I know I can push out a watermelon, lol. AHHHHHHHH! Life is not very predictable.

Here's to hoping...

In just about one week I will 'officially' be a mother...that is assuming nothing changes. I was admitted into the hospital for a second time due to light bleeding. Nothing alarming, especially since everything went well after the first bleed. To be honest, we almost didn't go into the emergency room, but we opted to be safe...just in case.

When the on-call doctor returned my call, I explained the situation and that I have a previa. I told her that I wasn't particularly concerned, she didn't seem too alarmed either. I was told to just come in for an hour or so to monitor the baby. Well..they didn't let me leave. It actually had nothing to do with bleeding. Apparently, I had a contraction and the baby didn't respond well to it. I don't recall having a contraction, but I guess it happened. I would like to give a shout out to my son for messing with the monitor ten minutes before I was to be released. Thank you Benjamin.

For the rest of the glorious evening, I was attached to a monitor by some nipple like device gouging into my stomach. Every hour a nurse had to come in and readjust it for me...wonderful for beauty sleep. Eventually, the next morning they did free me. THANK GOODNESS!!! I cannot imagine being on hospital bed rest; the idea of playing in traffic seems much more appealing. I told the nurse that if they came to the 'bed rest' conclusion they might as well send me to the psych ward over at the medical school. At least they'd let me color over there.

At about 8 am today, I heard a scream. The type of scream you imagine can only be projected when you have been picked up by a serial killer who is about to mutilate you, as you step on an underground hornet nest, and see Ron Jeremy naked in the distance. My doctor just so happened to walk in at that moment. Now my doctor is not a 'talker' nor does he show any interest in you other than the desire to safely deliver your child and move on with his life...I'm okay with that. I looked over at him, cringing, and said "is she in labor?". He obviously responded yes. I looked over at my husband and geeked out. "Holy shit," I said, "It really sounds like that?". The doctor sort of laughed. "Are you messing with me doc? Is someone blasting an episode of ER on the tv somewhere?" He really laughed and then closed the door to block the sound. Mike said it was to prevent scaring me, I know it was out of fear of the woman hearing my sickening laughter. I glanced over to the doctor one more time and said "Well....here's to c-sections."

So as it stands, I am volunteering to go on home bed rest as of Thursday. Every time I'm admitted into the hospital I hallucinate dollar signs...my insurance isn't as great as i'd like. That leaves me with just a few days until the c-section...woo hoo. Am I scared? ABSOLUTELY. Has the the concept of parenthood hit me yet? NOT AT ALL. I know it's all going to work out though.

I have one more ultrasound to see if anything has changed with the placenta. I've finally accepted the complications and the plan. I honestly cannot take any more changes.So here's to hoping! Not to mention the woman in the hospital scared the crap out of me. I told Mike that if surgery wasn't already scheduled, I would have been sitting in a puddle on the bed.

Baby-Q

After weeks of planning, Mike and I finally had our Baby-Q. It may seem semi-tacky to plan you own anti-shower, but I think it was appropriate in our situation. If you know anything about me, you understand that I have an incredibly small family and spent most of my time hanging out with guys. This is never an ideal for a 'traditional shower'. Furthermore, I hate pastels, the concept of snicker diapers makes me want to gag, and no one, absolutely no one is going near me with string in an effort to guess my waist size.

We opted for the baby-q, our way of including the men and women in our life, all ages. I had a lot of help from family and friends...there is no way I could have pulled this off completely on my own. We rented a sportsmen club, set up tents outside, a volley ball net, and Mike's band played. Inside there was a bar and we set up for a pot-luck. We covered the meat, but everyone else brought sides and desserts...it worked out beautifully.

Now as I mentioned, this was my version of an 'anti-shower'. It enabled all of our friends and family members to join us in celebrating the upcoming birth of Benjamin, while relaxing and chilling out. My only request was to NOT open the presents in advance. To me, this is the WORST part of the baby shower. Ohhhhing and awwwwing over diapers and breast pumps. Watching an uncomfortable and often humiliated pregnant woman cooo, when all she really wants to do is find the nearest bathroom and then hit up Mickey D's for a McFlurry. Absolutely torturous.

My plan was going accordingly, until someone made the announcement to 90 guests..."Steph is going to open the gifts inside, if anyone cares to watch." I instantly turned red, mortified at the turn of events. I tried to run but was attacked from multiple angles. A herd of women marched into the hall...I knew I had no chance. A chair was moved into the front of the room, and all eyes were on me. I looked at the table, knowing this would take forever...and it did...2 hours!!!

While the men sat outside, enjoying the amazing 70 degree day, sipping beers and listening to music, I was inside trying to figure out what the heck half of this stuff was. I appreciate every item and understand that we are tremendously fortunate to have such generous and loving people in our life..it was just EXHAUSTING. To the next woman, oddly planning her baby-q...explain in advance that you would like to take home the items to really look them over and enjoy opening them with your husband. This will spare you a lot of grief and stress.

All in all, I'm thrilled with how things turned out. The alternative to our idea was the foofy, all female shower...I know I would have looked like a sulking four year old had I been forced into that. OR no shower, and I think every child deserves to be celebrated. Our friends and family...even the men enjoyed themselves. The feedback we received after made all the planning worth it.

Clear the air!

Yes, it's Saturday, and yes, it's 5:55 a.m. As much as I would like to say I am awake and blogging thanks to my precious Benjamin, I can't. At this moment, there is a symphony in my bedroom. The musicians, Penny Lane and Mike.

Last night, my dearest husband decided to whip up an experimental batch of chili. The exact contents are unknown to me; whatever they include, they are lethal. At 5 a.m., as I rose for my quarterly, evening bathroom visit, I was almost knocked over by the horrendous odor lingering in my bedroom. It was like we were the 'Big Three', creating some secret gas based weapon for WWII in our sleep. Instantly, I hopped up, disgusted, opening windows, turning on the loud and wobbly fan above our bed.

Penny Lane grunted, as if I was the rude one, disturbing her rest. Mike grabbed the blankets and rolled over, completely ignoring me. But as I sat up in my bed, looking at these two stinky creatures, I thought to myself, 'my God, am I the luckiest woman in the world'. I have such a beautiful family.

It's insane how the most random, and often disgusting occurrences can make us appreciate our loved ones. I can't wait to add another stinky edition to this family.

There's no road map to life.

Some things you simply cannot plan. This is a difficult concept for me; I am absolute control freak. When I have a vision, it is exclusively mine. No one else could possibly see it the way I do. So I take on far more work than necessary.

Yesterday, I went in for my monthly exam and another ultrasound. Eight weeks prior, an ultrasound revealed that my placenta was low-lying (placenta previa). At the time the doctor said it was no big deal. In 90% of occurrences prior to 20 weeks, the placenta moves up on its own. (http://www.webmd.com/baby/guide/placenta-previa-topic-overview). Unfortunately, I am 31 weeks and it hasn't budged.

It was funny, because I was so infatuated with this ultrasound. The baby looked so different then in the past. He is so big and REAL now. He was blinking and drinking...I think he enjoyed my breakfast burrito. He had has hand covering his face; this was driving the tech insane, since she was unable to get a clear profile picture of him. She kept shaking my stomach. Ben was clearly annoyed, kicked and refused to move...typical.

Not only did I receive the traditional 'belly' ultrasound, but I also had to get another internal ultrasound...you know, the penis like device wearing a condom. Apparently, where and how this placenta settled was of interest, and the tech remarked that my insides resemble something that would be presented at a medical conference...leave it to me to have wacky insides.

After the doctor reviewed the images, he came in for my actual exam. To give you an idea of my doctor, he is a typical, no bullshit kind of man. On a normal visit, he walks in, pokes my stomach, asks if I have any questions, and walks out. I appreciate this guy because on a delivery table he wouldn't want to hold my hand. I pictured him more like a drill Sergeant; telling me to shut up, suck up the pain, and freakin push. That's what I need. Yesterday, at my exam, he sat down. Ugh.

To summarize, the placenta probably will not move and will remain blocking the cervix. Is there a chance in the next four weeks it will? Yes. Likely? No. Benjamin's due date is September 22. What will probably happen- I may be going in for a cesarean section on September 2. There are several reasons why we would deliver him a month early; most of them are related to my safety and not the baby's. At 37 weeks, his lungs should be developed enough to not need the assistance of a respirator. Prior to the delivery, I would receive an amniocentesis, a prenatal test, where the doctor will place a needle through my stomach and into the amniotic sack to take a fluid sample. This test will determine if the baby's lungs are developed enough.

Worst-case scenario, the needle could break my water and Ben will need to be delivered even if his lungs are weak. This would result in a longer visit to the NICU. If we wait until I am full term, there is a risk that I may bleed, and could ultimately die if I do not reach a medical facility in time. I was advised to get to a hospital with any sign of blood, regardless of the quantity.

What's good is that I have felt great. The doctor said my pregnancy has moved along perfectly. I'm on target with everything, weight, blood pressure, sugar levels, etc. He said something like this is very unusual, not only for my age, but also being my first pregnancy. No one ever said I was normal. Another positive is that things can still change with the next ultrasound. He wants me to go to the hospital for the next one...maybe more people will review it? I didn't ask. Also, I think they are supposed to be extra careful if I need another internal. I was even banned from sex...not that sex has actually been on my priority list.

For now, I'm just thinking positively. I've already drafted a list of c-section pros and cons. All I know is that this baby is alive and active. He kicks and punches me enough to remind me...I'm actually pretty grateful for that. I've accepted you can't plan for everything. Sometimes you simply have to give it God.

26 Weeks!

It's the little things that matter the most...

Every morning at approximately 6:15am, I wake up to this pinging sensation in my stomach. I hate to assume that he is already on a schedule, but I'm guessing this is a sign that I will never sleep late again...at least not for 13 years or so. As much as I used to love sleeping until Noon, if I didn't arise to that odd feeling in my belly, I'd be sad. It's Saturday morning and while my husband is asleep and my little brother in-law is clonked out on the couch, I'm sitting in the nursery, excited about what the future will bring.

It's been awhile since I have a had a chance to blog. I assume my postings may grow less frequent in the coming months. I wish I could say there was a lack of information or topics to discuss, but there's not...things have happened that would make most of my friends fall over laughing. There just isn't enough time in the day...even if there was, I doubt I'd be able to stay awake for it.

Since I last wrote, my abdomen has swelled into a massive beach ball. I'm still not 'waddling', but walking up a few flights of stairs is enough to send me into cardiac arrest. I continue to try and walk daily; lately, it's been tough with all the rain we have been getting. The alternative to these days are muggy, 90 degree days. I think I'm okay with a washout.

A few weeks ago, I was introduced to a new pregnancy luxury called hemorrhoids. What I was convinced was a minor rash, turned out to be something I swore would never happen to me. I remember being a kid and hearing my father grunt in pain in the bathroom. It often sounded like a cow was being massacred and I feared for his life. When inquiring with my mother, she would shrug with a slight snicker..."he's got hemorrhoids." I called the doctor's office in a panic. I was so ashamed, I whispered my problem to the nurse. It took four times repeating myself for her to hear me. Similar to my mother, she also laughed. "You're fine; it's perfectly normal and very common for pregnant women. Buy some over the counter cream...THEY'LL BE THERE FOR YOUR ENTIRE PREGNANCY!!!!"

Unbelievable, right? But I felt this need to discuss my ass with everyone. Mike came home and I announced my problem to him. I sat him down, held his hand, and confessed. It was quite liberating. After I made my announcement, Mike took a sigh of relief, thankful that I didn't have cancer or need an amputation. I thought about calling Preparation H and asking to become their new spokesperson, the face of Hemorrhoids, but I was just too busy with the nursery. In conclusion, don't be ashamed and live in secret when discovering these uncomfortable little bastards...you're NORMAL!

I have also been enlightened to many other embarrassing occurrences associated with pregnancy. Flatulence being a common visitor. We're all guilty of letting a silent one rip in the office or at the store. If anyone inquiries, we snub our noses up in disgust...who could have done such a crude thing? The concept of silent gas disappears with pregnancy. I fart and quite often for that matter. I will casually slip away from my cubicle and stroll into the back room attached to my small office. Confident that no noise will follow. Ready, set, Blahbbarrrrrrtttttttttttt! Yes, that's the noise; I felt I needed to elaborate. Instantly, my Irish skin turns beet red. I hear my co-workers laughing in delight. A bottle of Lysol is thrown at me for effect.

What about grooming? I've got this thing about visiting the OBGYN. Although lately, I could care less about what my darling husband thinks, any trip to the doctor requires preparation...until this past week. I made a last minute appointment due to a UTI...another fun thing about pregnancy. I came home early from work, hopped into the tub 20 minutes prior to leaving, assuming this was more than enough time to maintain. I grabbed the razor, looked down, and saw belly. ONLY BELLY! Where were my feet? If those were gone, you can correctly assume that nothing else was visible. I stood in the tub, shifting myself in bizarre yoga positions. I understand its importance as a pregnancy exercise more so than ever. I don't know what the outcome was...I couldn't find a hand mirror anywhere. However, it wouldn't surprise me if my doctor walked out of the office and collapsed on the floor laughing. I imagine myself looking like a poorly groomed, half-naked, chihuahua.

Aside from all of the above, when I am not in a comatose state, I am painting stars, and scouring thrift shops for rock n roll inspired decor for the nursery. I'll find great amusement in life if our son listens to hip-hop and never takes any interest in a musical instrument other than the recorder. The irony of life. Regardless, the room looks really cool and he probably won't remember it anyhow.

It's not possible for me to go over everything that has happened in the past weeks. I'm sure the story of Mike and I registering will be included in the near future...that was entertaining.

What's your prego personality???

One of the most frustrating parts of being pregnant is the lack of clothing choices. I remember a time walking through the mall, baby-free and seeing maternity everywhere. Old Navy, which I suspected would be my saving grace, has even shifted their maternity operation to one store about an hour away.

After dragging Mike around to three stores in three very different locations last week, looking for something decent to wear to the office, I had a mild-breakdown. I decided the world wants me to conform to either a pregnant prostitute, a 1960's flower child, or a bag lady.

For the Hoochie-Mama's out there:
Don't be alarmed when you discover there's a 'bun in the oven', Burlington Coat Factory has your back. For all those club going, over-weight, sexified mamas-to-be, Burlington offers an array of polyesters, to highlight your every-roll. If it covers your bump, get a smaller size. Shirts that read 'Hot Mama', 'The Magic Ticket', and my personal favorite 'Whose Your Daddy?' cover the small, three rack, department.

For the Dead Heads:
Free love is more than an excuse to join Team Prego and Kohls and Target are here to accommodate you over and over again. Issac Mizrahi wasn't allowed near this department. Instead, Martha Stewart and Liz Lange teamed up, cut some holes in Martha's oh so lovely shower curtains, added a shoe lace to highlight the under-bump, and congratulations welcome to maternity. If you like to walk around with flowy, flower patterns that make 'magic eye' less painful, you are good to go.

Octo-Mom even has a place in this world:
Motherhood Maternity. Thank you Heidi Klum for creating a line of clothes that are unaffordable to the average woman UNLESS you plan to make good use of them. One kid...buyer beware. Eight...now you've got a bargain. If you're a baby making factory, it's no big deal spending $40 on one pair of frumpy pants only available in S-M-L-XL (and I promise you will find yourself in between two sizes), resulting in an awkward bunching of fabric right near the crotch. Very, very, sexy.

For the Average Mom:
I'm sorry, you're simply out of luck. Use your imagination and collect the best each tragic store has to offer. Online is tough; after trying on endless pairs of maternity pants, I have discovered that I might be a medium, or, I might be a large, or, neither. Don't believe it will consistent in one store either...it isn't. I advise every woman working in an office and with a somewhat social life to invest in the following:

-One pair of jeans from Target (You'll now which ones because there is only one choice in one wash). However, they are comfy and no one would guess they're maternity...as long as you don't combine them with a top from Burlington Coat Factory.

-One pair of black dress pants from Target (Once again...only one pair to choose from).

-JC Penney offers pretty good deals on work pants (typically on sale for $19.99). The waist band is a bit bizarre and you may find yourself in between sizes, but work with what ya got.

-Shirts have been random finds. At this point in time I have bought multiples of three different shirts. I prefer to not look homeless or like I'm off to Woodstock.

-Burlington Coat Factory's clearance rack is good for yoga pants to bum around the house in. If you find something presentable, the prices are very reasonable...it's always worth a shot.

So far, that's really the extent of my closet. I still hit up consignment stores in hopes of finding an octo-mom jackpot. So far, I haven't struck gold. I desperately miss my Old Navy jeans and pray this baby weight comes off semi-quickly so I can squeeze into them again. Until then, I'm adapting to a world of stretch waistbands and empire tops.

Meet our babysitter...her name is Wii.

Several times per week, I watch two young boys, ages 13 and 11. This may in fact be the reason I was so in denial about the possibility of carrying a boy. As much as I adore these two young men, their attitudes and outlook on life make me very nervous, not only for their parent, but society in general. It seems to be a common trend...lack of morals, creativity, ambition, and compassion.

In almost every encounter I have with young children and teenagers, I leave concerned. A bright and sunny day, perfect temperature...when you ask if they want to go play, "No, what's there to do outside?" What ever happened to child-like play or imagination? On so many occasions, I find myself repeating to them "I'm not a constant source of entertainment...nor should your Nintendo Wii be." With technology at its peak, I'm concerned at the role media sources have on children...have we allowed them to become our babysitters?

Constantly, I tell myself that Mike and I will be positive role models and raise productive and hard-working children that will contribute to our society, not drain it. It's scary though to think about how much time children are away from their parents and how strong the influence of peers, television, internet, and video games can be. We don't live in a family friendly world. The option of having one person home is nearly impossible in this day and time...how do you regulate and continue to be the primary role model?

I hope our son can someday understand how hard we work and how our challenges have ultimately made us and continue to make us better people. I hope to raise him to be a leader and to not cave in to social pressures. I also hope he has a combination of Mike's kind heart and compassion and my aggressive, ambitious attitude.

To me, parenting is going to be the most important opportunity we have to change the world. To take a life and help mold it into someone that can make a positive difference. I'm looking forward to taking on this task and cannot wait to meet our little boy.

The thrill of the hunt...

There is nothing in life that I appreciate more than a good deal. I could have $1 million in my pocket and still barter at yard sales. With our darling little boy on the way, I have an excuse to shop, but a very small budget to work with.

A friend called me this morning and told me about a town-wide yard sale. I couldn't have been more thrilled...Mike on the other hand looked nauseous. Fortunately for him, my mother called and decided to take his place. I was nervous.

If you know anything about the relationship my mother and I share, you know it's chaotic, manic, and psychotic; yet somewhere, there's still room for a bizarre form of love. She couldn't be happier about her future grandchild, nor could she be more excited to share her ideas, thoughts, and opinions.

Although my mother typically has good intentions, she is like a whirl wind of energy that can suck the life out of you. She pulls up to my house like a mad woman, blaring music in her mustang convertible. Instantly, she storms into the house blabbling about baby clothes, grabbing ultrasound photos, scanning the house, and analyzing the future nursery. "What color are you going to paint it, you should have let me pick out the crib, blah ba blah ba blah...something else, blah." Instantly I tense up and become defensive. I'm not painting the nursery, it's a neutral color already. I would rather put money aside for college. Why don't you look at the big picture. I don't want my child paying $600 a month for college loans like me. Why do you always have to state your opinion?

To top it all off, my young mother is also partially deaf. As we depart...a SECOND time, because I lost my debit card and couldn't make it to the ATM, I ask "Are you sure you want to go to this?", her response..."No". I yell back "Fine, I'm turning around!" What she heard- "Do you know how to get there from here?" Eventually all was resolved and we were on our way.

Armed with a map of the town and a listing of sales, all tension immediately faded as we approached the first home. We scanned through boxes of items in search of nothing in particular. We reestablished a bond as we made absurd offers on expensive items, and walked away victorious on many occasions. We guessed where the wealthy developments were located and scored a car full of baby items, way too many lamps, and other random items.

More importantly, we got along really well for the first time in years. Beyond bringing my husband and I even closer together, this little boy is bringing my mother and I together. We joked about baby names, and the attractive men, in the giant homes, with the large-butted wives. My mother teased old men trying to sell her total garbage and snuck free kid toys into the back seat of my car while I wasn't looking.

We arrived back at my home tired, but impressed with ourselves.

The score- $43.00 purchased:

• A practically new bassinet, remote operated, that rocks, plays music, lights up and has a rotating mobile
• 2 nursery monitors (one not even opened)
• Complete bedding set (bumpers, comforter, sheets, the works) in mint condition
• New changing pad
• Vibrating baby chair
• Baby tub- with infant holder and shower attachment piece
• 3D activity play-mat that plays music and lights up. (New)
• Baby bjorn infant holder (Mike's going to look very sexy rocking this item)
• Giant Teddy Bear
• 2 pairs of new baby shoes
• Some fleece device that is suppose to attach to the car seat during the winter to keep him warm
• and a bunch of practically new toys that won't be used for a year or so
  

There is nothing better than sweet success.

Surprise!

For the past four months, I have been convinced I was having a little girl. I have wandered the mall looking at little dresses and floral decor. I even named her...Norah Elizabeth. It's was settled in my mind, I didn't even consider the possibility that a male is living inside me. Now I know you can see where I am going with this...it's a BOY!

The ultrasound technician mentioned it casually, like it wasn't a tremendous deal..just another baby. My darling husband instantly perked up, unsure if he heard what he thought he had. I questioned sarcastically "Are you sure?". She turned the monitor and pointed with the mouse to what appeared a rather visible penis. There was no questioning the sex of this child.

I sat flustered thinking, my God, what are we going to name this kid, how am possibly going to decorate a nursery without it looking tacky...covered in sports memorabilia. What if the second is a boy...can I mentally handle that? It was like I found out for the first time I was pregnant. I felt under-prepared. I know NOTHING about babies. In total honesty, I've never even held a baby...diapers..I don't even know where to begin. But a girl, well, I'm a girl. We'd experience similar aspects of life, it seemed I could semi-relate.

Mike was thrilled. There's something entertaining about watching a man when they learn a boy is on the way. His nose rose in the air, chest puffed out...it was like watching a rooster on the prowl. He has now accomplished his primary goal...his name will be passed on...the legacy that is Mike will continue on yet another generation. Success, pride, super sperm.

Later in the evening, I walked around Babies "R" Us. It was overwhelming...a superstore of baby stuff. How many of these products will I ever use? I need to brainstorm with someone who brought up a child in the 1950's to figure out what's a necessity and what will simply end up in the closet. I'm having flashbacks of my wedding gifts...the steamer, juicer, espresso maker all hidden behind linens near the bathroom. (Sorry if anyone who is reading this purchased the listed items...I am truly grateful).

Furthermore, there is far more merchandise directed towards little girls than boys. A sea of pink vomit covering the store. Boys get cars, giraffes, sports, and barn animals...how lame. Nothing is without theme. You'd think a basic pattern would be available...something that wouldn't dictate how I decorate the rest of the room. But no, my search will go on. The ides of registering makes me slightly queezy; more so than any morning sickness I've experienced.

Mild freak out...

Yesterday, after a long day of work, I strolled into the house and conducted my daily 'belly examination'. It may be shear paranoia or some bizarre infatuation with my quickly evolving body, but I feel a strong need to monitor changes. I lifted up my shirt...looked in the mirror... and screamed.

Now, I have always had a cute-little belly button; a very small innie that I have taken great pride in. Somehow, over the course of one day, that cute little belly button has morphed into a HOLE in the middle of my stomach! I could fit three quarters in there!

You're probably thinking to yourself...silly girl, didn't you know that messed up things are going to happen to your belly button? NO! I'm the first person in my immediate circle to carry child, I have one sibling close in age, and I had no interest in discussing pregnancy with my mother.

In an effort to enlighten myself, I purchased a bunch of books the first week I discovered we were having a baby; I even bought Mike a book. We sat there reading, filling our brain with images of babies and nurseries. Similar to the time when I tried to 'enlighten' myself with classic books, because I was simply unappreciative in high school, I became DESPERATELY bored by page 30. I kicked 'What to Expect' under the bed and moved on to Nicholas Sparks...I'd much rather read of romance in North Carolina than hemorrhoids.

What do you do when you're knocked up and in a freak out moment? You call Mom. Never have I called my mother for advice on anything; at least not in the past ten years. But who else do you call. Is there a pregnancy hotline for frantic, confused women who are too lazy to read the facts? I splurt out to my mother, "Oh my God, I'm mutant, there's a hole in my stomach...something about quarters, blah blah blah...blah blah." She breaks into hysterical laughter...nearly chokes on her own saliva, because clearly this moment of vulnerability is highly entertaining. This is the advice I receive - "Well, when the weather get warmer, just lie out in the sun, pour some water in it and it'll become a bird bath" hahahahahaha....choke, choke! Needless to say, I wasn't amused. She called and left three additional messages, all of which Mike listened to and found immense pleasure in.

Fortunately, my dear friend Andi, called me and provided me with some facts. It's going to pop out...yes, we're talking about my belly button. The idea makes me queezy.

For kicks, I may just say screw the prego books and just see what happens. At least it makes my blog more fascinating. Before I hung up on my mother, her final words were "wait till you discover the MASK of pregnancy!!"

To be continued....

Hey now second trimester! (16.5 weeks)

Things are starting to register in my brain and I think I have come to the understanding that we are REALLY having a baby. Out of nowhere this slight bump has appeared...it literally happened overnight. I'm finally starting to get some energy back and leaving the lethargic state I've been in the past three months. I still foresee 10pm bedtimes, most likely for the rest of my life.

I swear I felt the baby moving around the other day. I was lying down in the shower, a 45 minute ritual of mine and felt this weird fluttery feeling in my lower left abdomen. It's very strange to think there is something living in my stomach. It will really trip me out when I see a foot dragging across it.

Each week I anxiously wait for Wednesday, symbolizing that another week is officially over and learning that our baby resembles another piece of fruit in size. This week I'm carrying a 4.5inch avocado, lol. That sounds painful enough to deliver, a full size 7lb baby gives me the chills. I already have visions of dancing epidurals in my head.

Ok, so these are sideways, but you get the point. It's confirmed at 9 weeks that there is officially a baby OR some supernatural creature living in me. Little Ramey looks more like an alien than the Gerber baby in trimester uno.

It's on...

Mike and I found out we were having a baby one week before we set to sail to the Bahamas. We didn't know; it was still early and really no indication of pregnancy...I wasn't even late. We just figured that we were going on a booze cruise and couldn't risk the slight possibility. Well, go figure. One faint line on a dollar store test led to the word "pregnant" appearing on one of those snazzy digital ones.

Now I'm 14 weeks and can't believe I have already strolled into the second trimester. I've felt more like I've had mono the past few months than a baby growing inside of me. Even the ultrasound we had at nine weeks didn't bring me to reality. What did make this real was the fact that I had to unbutton my pants at work yesterday.

Other than my expanding waist line and Pamelaesque bust, I've been doing alright...at least compared to the horror stories of vomiting and nausea the 'mothers' in my life have shared. Everyone seems to have some form of an opinion or advice to offer. I get questionable looks as I sip my decaffeinated ice coffee and have no intention of explaining myself to anyone.

Even though I am not visibly pregnant, those who know make attempts to grab and pat my stomach. I spin around or dodge them like lightening...pregnancy is not a ticket to violate my space. One mommy in my life provided me with sound advice which I intend to use when the opportunity presents itself. She said, "If anyone tries to rub your belly, go and rub theirs back." I am not a Buddha and promise I will not provide good fortune, but I may leave you with a black eye.