Two Months Old: it really is a baby!

Two-month-old babies are fun because that’s when they become less leech-like and more humanoid. As I’ve told numerous people, it can be hard at first when your newborn has two settings: 1) inexplicably pissed off and 2) neutral.  Possibly three settings, if you count pooping. So when they starting smiling you’re like OH THANK GOD. Theo started smiling around Valentine’s Day, appropriately enough.

Here’s what I liked in month two:

1. Grass drying rack: Perfect for storing the nine billion bottles and bottle accessories you will have. And I breastfeed! I don't know what formula feeding moms do, lease a new house? Anyways, this thing is adorable, works well, and I can cram all of our bottle paraphernalia on it. Also you can buy little twigs and flowers to expand the storage. I die.

2. Piyo Piyo nail scissors: So nobody tells you that your newborn will have Wolverine-like claws and that one of your motherly duties will be giving the world’s tiniest, most terrifying manicures. I bought these scissors because they were cute but turns out they work way better than baby nail clippers. I tried the baby nail scissors but one time and was like NOPE, GOING TO CHOP OFF A FINGER. Get these instead.

3.     Boppy nursing pillow: I prefer this to the regular Boppy or My Brest Friend. It wraps around the body and has a flat, firm surface like the My Brest Friend but is cushion-y on the bottom. Most importantly, THE ENTIRE THING CAN BE WASHED. I really like the My Brest Friend but putting on the bizarrely shaped covers takes forever and is really tedious. Also, they named it MY BREST FRIEND, ugh. Pro tip: ditch the strap that comes attached to the boppy, it’s useless.

4.     Snugabunny swing: Oh swing, how I love you. Sometimes this is the only thing that will calm him down. He’s really good about sleeping in the cosleeper now but in early days, he preferred the swing. Just the other night he was fussing up a storm and fell asleep immediately when I desperately stuffed him in the swing. Also, now that he’s older he is pretty hypnotized by the mobile.

5.     Chux pads: I think I’ve mentioned that babies poop a lot. And pee a lot. And spit up a lot. I am intimately familiar with chux pads as a nurse, since that’s what all the hospitals use to protect surfaces from bodily fluids. One of my more brilliant ideas was to buy chux pads to use on the changing table. They make disposable “changing pads” but they are essentially just overpriced chux. These saved us so many clean ups, especially in the first couple of months when you have a poop machine masquerading as a baby.  Just roll ‘em up and throw them away when they get dirty. Pro tip: also good for new postpartum moms, where everywhere you go looks like a murder scene. I will spare you the details. Chux can be found in most drug stores, in the incontinence aisle. Parenting is so glamorous. 

6 Weeks Old -- Picture time!

Joe's friend Mikaela offered to snap some pictures of Theo as a wee baby (6 weeks). Unfortunately he was feeling very attached to his pacifier that day.

One month favorites

 As per usual, I'm going to pretend that I am not in fact months behind blogging. Here were my thoughts on baby essentials in the first month:

1. Rock and play sleeper:  I received this at my baby shower from Joe’s stepmom. I’m glad I did, as I balked at the price and didn’t even register for it. Not because I couldn’t afford it but because I am fundamentally a cheap person. It took me like a month to buy a bottle of Tabasco sauce to keep at work because every time I saw it at the grocery store I was like, “Pfft, $5? I don’t really need it.” And then I would go to work and be like I WOULD KILL FOR HOT SAUCE.

Anyway, the first month my baby was a perpetually sleeping slug and this was great because it’s like a super portable bassinet. Theo sleeps great in it and I hear it is especially goods for babies with reflux. I still think it’s overpriced but it’s been incredibly useful. 

2.     Woombie: So swaddling is difficult to master but Theo seems calmer and sleeps better swaddled. Joe is reasonably good at it now but it was much easier for us to use cheater-swaddling methods like the Halo swaddle sack and this, the Woombie. Otherwise known as “the banana suit”, “the glow worm” and “the baby straight jacket”. I prefer the woombie because it’s stupid easy. You just shove your baby in it and zip it up. It has two zippers on it so you can zip it up from the bottom in order to change diapers without taking them out of it completely. Critical for middle of the night diaper changes, when you are holding your breath and trying so very hard to keep your sleeping baby asleep. GENIUS.

3.     Cloth diapers: I think these would make pretty terrible cloth diapers but they are fantastic burp cloths. They’re bigger, more durable and more absorbent any other burp clothes I’ve used. They’re not super cute but when your baby projectile vomits over his car seat, that is not your primary concern.

4.     Baby gowns:  It should be illegal to make any newborn clothes that have to be pulled over the head. Your baby hates it, you hate it, and you’re just going to have to change their outfit anyway. Also, you don't have the energy to put on a fancy-pants "real" outfit. Not going to lie, Theo has been in pajamas 99% of his life thus far. I especially like these gowns by Kicky Pants, they are super soft and easy to take on and off. Again, critical since your newborn will poop approximately every 72 seconds. And they’re cute so I don’t feel bad for putting him in them for the millionth time.

5. Lanolin: If you’re breastfeeding, get a tube of lanolin. I’ve had a fairly easy time          breastfeeding but the first couple of weeks are rough. Slather this on for the first couple of weeks and try to forget the fact that your enormous boobs are coated in sheep oil. 

One Month Old: Adventures in Nursing

Theo is now a month old, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? He’s starting to outgrow his newborn clothes, which makes me very sad. I had to stuff him into that onesie like a small sausage. Obviously he is not lacking in food. His three chins speak for themselves.

So! One-month update! I must say, Joe and I totally prepared for the worst in having a newborn. You hear all these terrible stories about how you have baby and then suddenly you’re up all night trying to unsuccessfully soothe a small banshee and then it all ends when you murder your significant other in the morning. Or something.

Which isn’t to say that it has been easy but Joe and I are adjusting pretty well. Theo and I have this breastfeeding thing down and I have fondly nicknamed him “The Hungry Barracuda” for the speed and voracity of his nursing.

Man, future teenaged son, I am really sorry about all this.

We did have a couple rough nights before my milk came where Theo was like WTF MOM, I’M FREAKIN’ HUNGRY.  That was probably my toughest night so far. At one point during the night I gave him a pacifier, even though the lactation consultant at my midwife’s office suggested that we wait to introduce one until breastfeeding was well established, which it clearly was not. However, it helped sooth Theo and my hormones were still at the point were I would burst into tears whenever I looked at him so I didn’t hesitate to keep popping that sucker in. Joe woke up sometime during this, noticed the pacifier, and sleepily said, “Should he have that? I thought we were going to wait to give him a pacifier.” And I was running on a lot less sleep than he was and I shot him a look that I hoped communicated something along the lines of, OH YEAH? I WILL MURDER YOUR FACE. Because that are the kind of things your brain says at 3 am with a fussy newborn.

Theo had lost more weight at his first check up than the pediatrician wanted so we met with a lactation consultant, who suggested I use a supplemental nursing system until my milk came in. The supplemental nursing system (SNS) works like this: you have a little syringe that you fill with formula, which drips down a tiny little tube. You breastfeed your baby normally and while they are attempting to nurse, you sneak the tube into their mouth so that even if they’re not getting much or any breast milk, they are still getting some nutrition from the formula. Also this way, you keep up the breastfeeding habit and avoid giving a bottle.

Pretty clever idea, but ultimately easier said than done. Luckily we only had to do the SNS for an evening and one night before my milk came in. We did much better during the day than we did overnight, where sneakily inserting a tiny clear tube into a nursing newborn’s mouth-- while sleep deprived-- felt like a mission best suited for James Bond. A few times we succeeded only in dripping formula all over his face. But overall we did manage to give him enough supplemental formula to keep him happy and the next morning I woke up looking like a fembot so all was good from there.

What’s that? You don’t remember what a fembot is because you had better things to do than watch Austin Powers? Whatever, fancy pants. This is a fembot:

Theo is a pretty good sleeper and usually goes right back to sleep after eating in the middle of the night so I don’t feel too sleep deprived usually. The biggest sign of sleep deprivation happened the other day when I was in the middle of drinking my morning tea and realized it was sweeter than usual. Upon further investigation, (as in, looking in the mug… my detective skills are unparalleled) I realized that I had forgotten to put a tea bag in. So I was essentially drinking hot sugared milk-water. Which is kind of delicious, actually.

Wish me luck in month two! He slept 6 hours last night, which was ahhhh-mazing. I’m hoping this is a trend. Please don’t smite me, parenting gods. 

The Rest of the Pregnancy Journey: Theo has arrived!

So I’m not pregnant anymore, which is weird because that means I HAVE A BABY. LIKE, AN ITTY BITTY HUMAN. AND THEN THEY TOLD ME TO TAKE IT HOME.

Let’s just run through the last few weeks of my pregnancy, shall we?

37 Weeks Pregnant 

At 37 weeks pregnant my friends and family threw me an awesome robot themed baby shower where I ate a lot of waffles and received a lot of awesome presents.  It was Christmas/New Years around this time and my sister was in town as well so I never got around to taking a belly shot. Here’s a picture of me at my shower though.

And here is a festive picture of my sister and me making flipper hands in front of the Christmas tree. Just… don’t ask.

38 Weeks Pregnant

I started feeling kind of off around this time: getting randomly nauseated again for no apparent reason, etc. I cleaned and organized a couple things, which is highly unusual for me. I was hoping I would go into labor before my due date of January 15 and had a sense that I would, though that intuition was based on absolutely nothing except for maybe the fact that I was tired of being pregnant. I was fully prepared to go past my due date though, since that’s pretty common with first time moms.

Here’s the last belly shot I took: 38 weeks pregnant. I was 39 weeks pregnant for about a day so I didn’t exactly get around to taking that picture because I was busy having a baby.

You should probably stop reading this now if terms like “mucus plug” and “cervical ripening” make you queasy. As I said when I lost my mucus plug, (see?  It’s beginning already) pregnancy is full of all sorts of new, exciting, and disgusting bodily fluids.

39 Weeks Pregnant -- Birth Story

On Tuesday, January 8, I went in for a routine 39-week midwife appointment. My midwife that day offered to check my cervix for the first time and I accepted, halfway hoping she would be like, “Oh look, you’re crowning and in no apparent pain at all!” And I would be all stoic, like, “Oh? You don’t say. Quite. Let’s have some tea and then have a baby, shall we?”

I don’t know why I’m British in that fantasy.

Anyway instead, I was 1-2 cm dilated and a smidge effaced. We thought I probably wouldn’t go into labor immediately but probably wouldn’t be overdue either. Acceptable options, I felt. However, before we left the midwife joked that all her patients she checked the week before all had their babies the following weekend so maybe it wouldn’t be so long after all.  Har har!

So, I blame the midwife with magic labor-inducing hands for what happened next. I woke up shortly after 3 am that morning to pee and as I attempted to hurl myself out of bed, I felt a small gush of fluid. I froze. Either my water had just broken or I had peed myself. Neither were very appealing options at the time. I decided to ignore the contractions that immediately started because I was definitely not in labor, right? RIGHT?

I couldn’t fall back asleep.

I got up and started timing the contractions, which were something like 5-8 minutes apart at the time and lasted about a minute. Around 4 am, I decided to wake Joe. I called the midwives and the soothing Australian midwife was on call, which was very, you know, soothing. I filled her in and she listened to me have contractions, which I could no longer talk through. She thought I was indeed in labor and told me to take a shower and call her back when my contractions were a little more regular for a little longer.

I took a shower while Joe frantically bolted around the house gathering all of our things. My contractions were getting stronger and suddenly I couldn’t remember why I wanted to have a natural birth. I started repeating my upbeat mantra of the morning, “I don’t know if I can do this!” Joe called the midwife back to let her know that we were heading over to the birthing center. I entered delusional birthing land around this time and became very preoccupied with brushing my hair while Joe paced around me, confused by the ease with which I was able to acknowledge the need to leave without actually moving at all. Joe finally convinced me we had to go and I reluctantly got in the car, though not before throwing up. Being in delusional birthing land, I wasn’t all that bothered by it. Nor was I surprised, as I knew many women throw up during labor. Since my stomach hates me anyway (see: an impressive eight months of morning sickness) I assumed I would be one of them. Tragically, I was very, very right about this.

Soothing Australian midwife met us at the birthing center and checked me again, where I was now 3-4 cm dilated and 75% effaced. I was having baby today, WHAT? And then I threw up again.

My sense of time is pretty much completely destroyed at this point but I do know I spent a lot of time laboring in the shower, which felt excellent. Or at least more excellent than not being in shower, since it didn’t stop me from telling Joe and the midwife, “I don’t know if I can do this!” about every 3 seconds. Soothing Australian midwife kept telling me (soothingly, naturally) that I was ALREADY doing it. Yes, I thought, but it SUCKS SO MUCH.

Baby then moved in such a position that caused me to have back labor instead, which was harder to deal with somehow. Suddenly I would trade anything to have my crappy regular contractions back. The midwife coached me through several different positions to help reposition the baby and eventually something worked and my crappy regular contractions returned instead. Yay?

By this time it must have been a more reasonable hour in the morning (Joe interjects: it was 8:00 AM) because another midwife came to take over.  She continued to coach me through some different positions to labor in and I returned to the shower for a fair bit. She checked me a couple more times and while I was making good progress, my bag of waters was still somewhat intact and preventing the baby from coming down as quickly as he could. She asked if she could break my water completely and though I was nervous that things would get more intense, more importantly I was like HAVE THE BABY QUICKER? YES PLEASE DO IT NOW THANKS.

Somewhere in there I threw up a couple more times. Thanks for the encouragement, body. Luckily someone had left behind a lemon-lime flavored Gatorade at the birthing center because the red Gatorade I had brought along was less than appealing after I threw up it up multiple times.

I felt the urge to push shortly after she broke my water (Joe interjects: it was 11:30 AM) and got in the birthing pool for awhile. And then things got a little complicated. Baby was descending slightly cockeyed (asynclitic), with his head leaning towards his shoulder. This made pushing really hard for me. I ended up pushing for around 4.5 hours and pretty much exhausted the midwives' bag of birthing tricks, I think. Which makes it sounds like they were going to pull my baby out of a top hat, but you get my drift. 

Ideally, I wanted to give birth in the birthing pool but the lack of gravity was actually making things harder. I was coached through every strange position imaginable including one called “the duck walk” which is so ridiculous that when it was demonstrated in our birthing class, I turned to Joe and said, “We are so not doing that.” Well, guess who duck walked naked through the birthing center while silently plotting how to kill the midwife who suggested this? 

Eventually all the ridiculousness paid off and at 3:52 pm on January 9^th, Theodore Isaac finally entered the world. All 7 lbs, 19 inches of cone-headed baby was immediately placed on my chest and left to chill there for a couple hours until they did his newborn examination, which he passed with flying colors. I knew he would be gifted.

You will not be seeing the other pictures of me immediately after giving birth because I look like a train wreck. A happy, sleepy train wreck.

And yes, jokes aside, I’m really glad I did it naturally. Honestly it was hardest for me in early labor and then my body must have really kicked up the endorphin production because it didn’t get much harder to handle from there. Eventually I stopped saying, “I don’t think I can do this” because, as the midwives said, I WAS doing it. You surrender to your body and it just knows what to do, which is pretty incredible. Which isn’t to say I didn’t have anything to do with it either, because it was hard work, damnit, and I want my credit too. Obviously pushing for hours was not exactly how I envisioned things going but it felt so much better than the contractions. I can’t imagine having an epidural and trying to push like I did. If I were in the hospital under the same circumstances, I can easily see myself ending up with a caesarean.  I’m proud of myself and proud of my body.  

My little niblet’s head is rounding out nicely and he breastfeeds like a champ. He also excels at peeing on everything. Like I said, he's gifted. And we love him.

36 weeks pregnant: Merry Christmas, baby

Oh how I love the Christmas season. The tree, the decorations, browsing the holiday section of Target for hours while my Jewish husband quietly weeps in boredom. This year has been especially good because I got to decorate our new house for the first time. And I'm pregnant so when Joe asks if we really need to get stockings to hang I can say YES, which translates to YES and also shall I remind you that I'm busy creating your tiny human heir? And into the cart the stockings go.

Luckily Joe likes plants-- we've had a wide variety of potted plants all named "Planty" over the years-- so he's enjoyed having a live(ish) tree in our living room this month. Joe also inexplicably likes choosing lightbulbs (cue me weeping quietly from boredom while Joe wanders the lightbulb aisle of Lowe's) so he was able to help pick out the tree lights that best minimized the chances of me setting the house on fire.

I even tried to make the tree a little more Hannukah friendly by decking it out in blue, white and silver. Perhaps next year we'll strap a menorah to the top. Too much?

Pregnancy continues to putter along, no big changes there. After squishing around my belly recently, one of the midwives commented that although the baby is indeed lodged way up in my rib cage, he has plenty of room in there. And I was like really? Because sometimes I feel like I'm going to cough up a baby foot.

In good news, my morning sickness finally eased up sometime last month, though I've been afraid to mention it in case the pregnancy gods say, "Oh right, forgot about that! Here, puke a little more." So just keep that on the down low, okay?

Happy Holidays, everyone!

35 weeks pregnant: The Rib Cage Inn

My favorite pregnancy encounter happened around this time, where a stranger touched my belly and then proceeded to stare at me awkwardly and silently for several seconds. I starred back at her, bewildered. Finally she said, "I'm going to ask you a question." and I thought how nice, because I'm going to punch you in the face.
Her: Are you pregnant?
Me: Um, yes.
Her: I thought so but I couldn't tell if you were just heavy.

Excuse me, what? How many heavy people are tiny except for their WATERMELON SIZED BELLY? I'm either pregnant or have some sort of deadly medical condition. But wait! It gets better!

Her: So how far along are you?
Me: About 35 weeks now. Almost 36.
Her: So... about 6 months pregnant?
Me: ....

Yes, because six times four CLEARLY equals 35. Basic math skills for the win!

This trumped my former favorite pregnancy moment, when an old lady (who had previously seen me and scolded me for not having gained enough weight, TEETH GNASH) approvingly told me that I was getting "nice and fat". Just what every pregnant lady dreams of hearing!

Baby continues his comfortable stay in The Rib Cage Inn. He has pretty much been curled up in my right side the entire pregnancy and must be crushing some sort of crucial nerve connected to my right leg, as that leg frequently cramps and turns to jelly when I'm trying to exert myself too much, like say, moving in any sort of way. Joe and I were trying to book it back to the car recently when it was freezing out and I had to slow way down and hobble along instead because my leg was giving out. I'm sure I looked like a pregnant polio victim.

On the upside, traveling was marginally nicer than usual over Thanksgiving because everybody takes pity on limping pregnant ladies. Except for the TSA agents who continue to preform the most awkward full body pat downs in the history of life. "Is there anywhere sore on your body that I should know about?" (Blank stare while I gesture to my entire pregnant body) "Right, okay. I'm going to be touching your inner thighs now..." Yes, TSA agent, because everyone knows that pregnant ladies always hide their explosives in their inner thighs, magically concealed by maternity leggings. Just wait until you see where I have hidden the unicorn.

34 weeks: a photo

Probably the best part of a maternity photo shoot is that someone is constantly yelling at you to stick your belly out as far as possible and it feels like a compliment. I'm pleased with most of the pictures I got out of it, though the photographer was very much into having me mostly naked and draped in bed sheets. And since I want a job in the future, I thought maybe I shouldn't share those with a million strangers. You're welcome, son.

33 Weeks: "Do you have a tummy ache?"

Behind on everything, as per usual. Joe and I just got back from a little vacation where we visited Joe's friend Brian in Ohio and my pal Katie in Kentucky for a couple weeks. Apparently I suck at taking pictures on vacation so you'll have to imagine my belly for weeks 31 and 32. I assure you that it was very much the same, though possibly slightly smaller since it had not yet been stuffed with vacation food. I'm looking at you, pickle flavored Pringles.

Continue to be pregnant and such. Also, two of my coworkers are also now pregnant so it appears I am slowly infecting everybody with fertility germs. It is nice to have people to commiserate with while I check the fridge for the 10th time to see if anything new has magically appeared. We mostly fantasize about bringing in bean bag chairs so we can arrange a pregnant napping station. And exchange a lot of texts along the lines of, "SO TIRED. HATE EVERYTHING." 

I've officially gotten to the awkward stage of pregnancy where moving around is difficult. It is now an athletic feat for me to hoist myself out of the bathtub and bending over is my least favorite activity. I recently was curling my hair with hot rollers and dropped one while I was taking them out of my hair. As I watched it roll under the couch, I seriously considered the option of waiting two months or so to retrieve it. 

Baby also seems to have reached an awkward stage where he is running out of places to go. Apparently he has already rearranged all my internal organs and has now decided that he should take up residency in my rib cage. I now rest one of my hands on the top of my belly most times and appear to be a serene pregnant lady. In reality, I am just constantly dislodging little baby feet from my ribs. 

People continue to be overly comfortable approaching me about my pregnancy, including a teenage shop clerk who began quizzing me about my birth plans while I was trying to pick out a Halloween costume. Listen, braces face, your wondering aloud about how much child birth must suck is really not improving my shopping experience. I get a lot of, "Wow! You're so tiny!" and-- most annoying-- "You need to gain more weight!" This comment aggravates me the most, since my weight gain is right on track and my belly is measuring exactly where it should be. I tend to be a perfectionist so when people tell me I need to gain weight I'm like NO DAMNIT, I'M ACING THIS WHOLE WEIGHT GAIN THING. LOOK AT THE WEIGHT GAIN GRAPH I HAVE ON MY IPHONE. 

In contrast, my favorite pregnancy comment from a stranger has been from my boss's little girl who saw my pregnant belly and asked me, "Do you have a tummy ache?" Adorable. And also fairly accurate. 

Now I am working on Christmas-itzing the house and am looking forward to having my first real Christmas tree in our little house. Joe is not so thrilled, something about him being Jewish or something. I'm not sure, the Christmas music was drowning everything else out. 

30 Weeks Pregnant: Pregnant cat burglar

I'm going to pretend that it didn't take me 3 weeks to upload this photo, lalala. As usual, I enjoy the fact that I can chose what day it appears I posted a blog entry so I look a lot less like a slacker.

So! Baby! I've tried to keep active-ish throughout my pregnancy, though obviously it has been harder in recent weeks. I did finally find a prenatal workout that I like since I find most prenatal workouts to be excruciatingly boring. I know people are trying create safe exercises and whatnot but pregnant women are capable of doing much more than sitting in a lotus position while s-l-o-w-l-y stretching, which is what I found in most prenatal routines. Also, there tends to be a lot of wind chimes and Mother Earth talk about how pregnant women are goddesses in these workouts and after about 3 minutes of that I'm ready for a nap.

Joe likes being legitimately active outdoors, in contrast to my preferred method of exercising indoors, ideally while some sort of trashy television is playing in the background to distract me. So it was not surprising when Joe recently dragged me outdoors for a "walk". My version of a walk is putting on a coat and walking around the local lake. Joe's method involves heavy duty outerwear, survival equipment and a trip up a snowy mountain. I was dressed head-to-toe in black, apparently the mountain gear color of choice, and felt like a pregnant cat burglar except, you know, a lot less agile. Joe also gave me some trekking poles to use, which are essentially like ski poles that you use to keep better balance when hiking. So I also looked like I tried to go skiing but then suffered some sort of head injury and only got half of it right. In short, the worst burglar ever. I have photographic proof of this:

Admittedly, the walk was nice and we turned around when we encountered a steep hill that looked particularly treacherous to my pregnant self. The deciding factor to skipping the hill was while we were standing contemplating the hill, I managed to trip over a root. While standing still. Good one, pregnancy balance. 

In conclusion, I really, really hope that some day, some person stumbles on my blog after googling the phrase "pregnant car burglar". 

29 Weeks: Happy Babyween!

28 Weeks: Pregnancy blog, now with 50% more cats!

Do you like the churro reference? Apparently the people who come up with the baby size comparisons became really desperate at this point because every comparison I found was bizarre. It was a toss up between the size of a Chinese cabbage and the length of a churro. Churro won because A) most people don’t know what a Chinese cabbage is and B) churros are crazy delicious.

So 28 weeks marks the official beginning of the 3^rd trimester, what the what? When did that happen? Still feeling fairly good. By that I mean I am not yet totally miserable all the time. But don’t worry, I’m told that is coming.

Here are a few of my favorite symptoms recently:

-       Baby continues to make a comfortable nest out of my bladder but I think I’ve mastered the whole peeing 900 times before bed thing so I don’t have to wake up in the middle of the night. Small victories.

-       But don’t worry! Since I haven’t had to stumble my way to the bathroom at 3 am recently, the pregnancy gods have decided that it is only fair that instead I get crippling calf cramps several times a night.

-       My veins have multiplied and are having parties. No varicose leg veins that I’ve heard about, just plain ol’ more visible. It doesn’t help that my skin is approximately the same color and transparency as white tissue paper. They are especially terrifying after I’ve had a bath or shower and all the vessels are dilated and extra huge. Then it really ventures into super villain territory.

Nausea doesn’t even deserve mentioning because I’ve gotten so used to it. I just try not to make any sudden movements in the morning and sip on my pregnancy tea until I can stomach something bland and carb-y. As long as that sits well I can eat pretty normally the rest of the day, even crazy things like APPLES.

In conclusion, here’s an outtake of this week’s pregnancy portrait, where Daisy made the mistake of wandering too close to me while I was taking pictures. She looks so betrayed. JUST WAIT UNTIL I BUY THAT SNOWMAN KITTY COSTUME FROM TARGET, DAISY. 

27 weeks: Baby Twilight Zone

Well, I’m behind on this blogging thing. Luckily, due to the magic of the internet, I can mark that I posted this week so it appears I have not been slacking. Always looking out for me, dear internet.

I really have no good excuse, since Joe has been gone for the past two weeks and when that happens I mostly sit around and watch an excessive amount of Netflix. And eat a lot of soup, since that’s the only savory thing I make with confidence. Throw vegetables in the soup pot! Add random shit until it tastes good! Watch five more episodes of Supernatural! Repeat as needed. 

So! Pregnancy! The downside to having a visible belly is that I’m now experiencing the whole strangers-feel-oddly-entitled-to-talk-to-me thing. Recently this has also expanded to the belly groping. If I know you I understand, but if I’ve never met you or you filthy hands before please trust that I don’t want them on me. Since I’m naturally shy and not at all touchy feely anyway, this has been really weird and I kind of feel like I’ve in an episode of The Twilight Zone. It fits, no? I have an alien inside me and suddenly people are drawn to my belly like zombies. Beginning to think baby has mind control powers. 

26 Weeks: True crime novels > baby books

10/15/12 – 26 weeks pregnant

My big pregnancy announcement this week is the somewhat mortifying fact that at 6 1/2 months pregnant, I weigh the same as I did at my heaviest weight in college, so more or less 15 lbs from my starting weight. The weight I gained in college was not the typical “freshman fifteen” caused by too much cafeteria pizza. The cafeteria could keep its shitty pizza.  Rather, my weight gain can be directly correlated to when I moved in with Joe and started eating all my meals with him.

Unfortunately, Joe is a great cook and I liked his cooking far more than the cafeteria’s. Which, by the way, is not difficult when your friendly college cafeteria sets out boiled shrimp with the heads still on in the salad bar. The best part was, there was a jaunty little sign that accompanied it that proudly announced, "Locally grown!" Right, because Cleveland, Ohio is famous for its locally grown shrimp and that's not at all creepy and disgusting! It's not like your lake once caught on fire or anything. Oh wait...

Anyway, it turns out that a 5-foot girl shouldn’t eat college-boy sized portions of risotto and garlic pasta every day. Oh, and when you go to Hawaii with your boyfriend? You should probably not eat macadamia nut pancakes every day.  Daily fried cake breakfasts do not go well with your bikini, Sophie.

Luckily, I got my act together pretty quickly and lost that weight. But I must say it was a lot more fun to be this weight while happily eating massive helpings of pasta than it is to be this weight and dry heaving when I see a cracker. I mean, C’MON.

In other news, I’m trying to make up for my complete lack of baby gear by reluctantly starting to read What to Expect the First Year again. I started it, than traded it for Helter Skelter, a grisly 700-page account of the Manson murders.  Why? BECAUSE I FOUND IT SLIGHTLY LESS TERRIFYING THAN CHAPTER 2 OF WHAT TO EXPECT THE FIRST YEAR. Which could probably be subtitled, “You should probably just give up now. Also, how is your anti-depressant supply?”.

I’m sure my birthing class will be just as soothing, right? 

25 weeks: Gestating a fruit salad

This past week was a magical week, where my belly ‘popped’ a lot more and strangers could finally tell that I was pregnant. Possibly due to the number of times we ate out this week, more than anything else. Regardless, I’ll take it. At least I feel like I can wear form-fitting shirts again and look cute and pregnant. Until now, I mostly felt I was diligently working on a beer belly, which was not exactly confidence inspiring.

Besides belly, nothing new to report on the pregnancy front. Still nauseated and have to pee about 400% more than usual, but haven’t had any other new or exciting symptoms like back pain or sciatica. Also, no food cravings, but pretty excited that it is now pear season because I love pears SO MUCH. I actually have a problem bringing myself to eat them after I buy them because I don’t want to “waste” them. It’s a sickness, really.

Given my obsession with fruit, I should probably live somewhere other than Alaska, since nothing actually grows here except some gnarly crabapples that are not fit for human consumption. At least, not humans you like very much. I remember visiting California for the first time in my youth and thinking something along the lines of, “Whoa whoa, you mean fruit really grows on trees? What kind of sorcery is this?” And then I continued to suck my thumb, which eventually led my mom to buy several luxury vehicles for my orthodontist.  

And yes, according to my iPhone pregnancy app, baby was the size of a papaya this week. I think I’ve gestated an entire fruit salad by now. I suppose I'm still working on the melon component. Wince. 

24 weeks pregnant: 6 months down, baby! (See what I did there?)

Newest pregnancy developments are 1) I can now skip the prophylactic nausea medication without guaranteeing that I will later throw up. More nauseated without it, but still, progress! 2) Lately, baby prefers to curl up in the right lower side of my belly, giving the impression of a right-sided baby tumor. Alternatively I am carrying a baby cone head. Toss-up, really. 3) My belly button is beginning to plot its escape, mischievous devil that it is.

Other pregnancy developments include my total lack of preparation for when the baby actually arrives. I panicked and made Joe paint the nursery, and it is still absolutely empty. At least it looks cool.

Kinda hoping one of those doors opens into a nursery in Narnia. If not, I can just shove a dog bed in the corner, right? Cozy! 

One of these days, I may actually buy something off of my baby registry. I HAVE THREE MONTHS, OKAY?

23 weeks pregnant: Sophie's Pregnancy Tonic

Of course when you’re pregnant everybody wants to know what you’re craving. I’m sure my coworkers are just dying to hear that I’ve been eating Big Macs and ice cream sundaes, since I generally eat very healthily and they find this extremely disturbing. But apparently I do live in an alternate universe where raw green beans and mustard is a perfectly acceptable snack.

Side note: dipping vegetables in mustard is not a pregnancy thing either; I’ve been doing that for years. I’m just semi-obsessed with mustard. Totally normal.

The only new craving I’ve had is for tart herbal tea blends, most of which contain hibiscus flowers. For some reason, this tea is pretty much the only fluid I can stomach. After I discovered this and drank gallons of the stuff a day, I decided on a whim that I should probably Google if hibiscus is safe for consumption during pregnancy.

This is where you scream useless protests at me, much like you would do while watching a horror movie. "NO! STOP! WHY WOULD YOU GO INTO THE HAUNTED BASEMENT ALONE? WHO DOES THAT?"

Internet consensus: probably not, and also why are you trying to poison your unborn child? God. Damn. It.

I called my midwives, who assured me that they could care less if I ate a basket of hibiscus flowers a day. Okay, they may have not said exactly that, because that would be weird, but they did think it was totally safe for me to drink my beloved tea.

I’ve since bought enormous quantities of the stuff and have been drinking that pretty much exclusively. I even started making a juice cocktail with it that I’ve nicknamed Sophie’s Pregnancy Tonic. So if I can just travel back to the 1930’s and peddle it as a cure all, I’d be set.

I think the lesson here, as it always is, is DON’T GOOGLE ANYTHING EVER WHEN YOU’RE PREGNANT. Which is of course why I continue to do it on a daily basis.

Not very interesting but that’s my big pregnancy craving. After I finished off yet another box last week, I announced to Joe that I was probably going to give birth to a giant hibiscus flower. Strangely I have not had nightmares about this yet.

22 weeks: In which I gestate an eggplant

I am so committed to this process that I got up and put on pants to take my weekly belly picture. That, my friends, is called DEDICATION.

Though that took all my motivation and I can't be bothered to come up with anything else. Here's belly update and survey instead.

How far along? 22 Weeks

Total weight gain/loss: something like 12 or 13 lbs

Maternity clothes? A few things. Definitely growing fond of elastic.

Stretch marks? No. Though I have begun to liberally grease my body is assorted potions in attempts to avoid that.

Sleep: Sleeping well, except for the whole peeing every 30 seconds thing.

Best moment this week: My birthday was last week so I was generally fawned upon, which I support 100%. Also Joe finished painting the nursery, though I can’t remember if that was last week or not. 

Miss Anything? Sushi, a normal bladder capacity.

Movement: Oh yes. Peapod enjoys soothing me back to sleep after my midnight bathroom breaks by slamming repeatedly into my uterus.

Food cravings: Nothing unusual. Still fond of peanut butter, fruit, cheese. And unicorn blood. Just seeing if you're paying attention.

Anything making you queasy or sick: Depends. Things have calmed down A LOT but still am turned off a lot of time by protein, raw vegetables… Basically anything that is not a refined carbohydrate will turn me off at one time or another. Coffee and black tea I can’t do at all.

Have you started to show yet: I mean, this weight has to have collected SOMEWHERE. There is some definite pudge action happening but that's about it. Which begs the terrifying question, where am I storing this 12 lbs if not on my belly? Wait, don't answer that. 

Gender prediction: Unless my ultrasound tech was on mind altering drugs, we are sticking with boy.

Labor Signs: Nay. Can I have a surrogate just for the labor bit please?

Belly Button in or out? In. I bought one of those hilarious pregnancy belly button rings that looks like its made out of a flexible straw after my co-worker told me a horrific story about how her pregnancy ripped her belly button piercing nearly completely out but so far things are looking pretty normal. 

Wedding rings on or off? Off, though only because I developed a weird rash on my ring finger. 

Happy or Moody most of the time: Generally pretty emotionally stable. Except when I make pie crust, which always sends me into a murderous rage.

Looking forward to: Actually appearing legitimately pregnant.