10 weeks and counting- just 30 more to go- haha! Baby H is either a prune or a kumquat today, is moving his or her arms, and is growing fingernails!!! Already! And also, "peach-fuzz hair (is) beginning to grow on tender skin" according to babycenter.com
As baby is growing, there haven't been too many changes in mom since last week. However, I wanted to share a story about starting to come to terms with the "Life, As You Know It, Is Over" Phenomenon.
I should start with an introduction. Of myself. Most of you know me VERY well. I also know myself very well. Maybe you don't know how well I know myself, so I'm just gonna put this out there: I like to look cute. Probably waaaaay too much of my time, energy, thoughts, and funds (hello Target bill!) go towards that end. Whether it be working my butt off (literally) at the gym, traveling to the city for expensive haircuts, or the Banana Republic fascination, you don't have to look too hard to mount evidence of the fact that- alright, I'll say it- I'm vain.
So I'm sure you've know that all along, but now you know that I know it! :) And thus begins the story of me having to take my vanity and stuff it.
On Friday night, Ivan and I went to an amazing charity event. We were invited in connection with his work, otherwise we never would have been able to afford such an extravagant evening. The night began with me trying on several dresses then discarding them because either a.) my mid-section (which still just looks flabby, nothing like a baby bump- I can't wait for that!) didn't fit into the dress or b.) it showed so much of much acne-splattered chest or back that I was afraid someone would call the health department on me. I settled on a dress I had bought last minute for a friend's wedding this summer- navy blue, stretchy, elegant, refined. I felt pretty good in it.
That is, until I walked into the gorgeous hall in Chelsea Piers. After checking in, we walked through a corridor lined with waiters holding inviting trays of wine and martinis. Ivan took a glass of wine, turned to me and asked, "Do you want one?" No, Ivan, I want seven, but that's not going to happen, is it? "Oh man, I forgot, I'm sorry." Boys.
The room was gigantic, hosting a 12 piece band (they were a-MAZ-ing), dozens of casino tables, a silent auction, and hors d'oeuvres stations with tiny versions of Mexican, Italian, and steakhouse-style goodies. It also hosted quite the range in fashion. It seemed that no one could agree on the dress code- there were men in tuxes and men in jeans and button-downs. But the women looked sensational.
I took in the veritable fashion show around me. These girls looked like they could have been dressed by Rachel Zoe. They looked like they could have BEEN Rachel Zoe. They had on these incredible, short, long- sleeved dresses with structured shoulders in gorgeous colors and patterns. Some had cutouts in the back with pretty bras showing. They ALL had fierce shoes and fun, chunky accessories. In comparison, in my "elegant and refined" dress I felt about 65.
I couldn't help but think, "That could have been me, a few months ago. Was it me a few months ago? Why can't I remember?" In this short time though, so much has changed. I don't even know WHERE someone would find a dress like that! And even if I did know, I'd probably be too darn tired to go and look for one. And how were they walking in those shoes? Yes, girls, 10 weeks in and I have become Old Lady.
I watched these girls flit about, looking fabulous, drinking their champagne, and dancing drunkenly to the same music that I am usually powerless against shaking it to. In the meantime, I got myself a second helping of chips and guacamole. Oh yeah, and then I sneezed and peed in my dress.
Between having no champagne buzz, being EXHAUSTED from having worked all day and just being tired in general lately, my expanding, broken out body, and my now damp underwear I was kind of a sight. Or at least I felt it, which is really all that matters- I was certainly never going to see these people again. All in all, I couldn't WAIT to get home and into some flannel pajamas.
On the way out though, I thought I'd use the bathroom quickly (lest my allergies kick in and I ruin the leather seats in the Jetta). Lo and behold, on the couch in the sitting room were some of the fabulous girls. Passed out. With vomit down the fronts of their dresses. I smiled and silently said to my baby, "Yeah, we're not missing out."
Soon after I became pregnant, my mom told me that I am joining a new club. She knows just how much my appearance (not just physical, but appearing to be the peppy, ambitious, "go-go-go" girl- meaning never taking a break, not like a go-go dancer ;) ) means to me. She was gently telling me that things are going to change, but that even though I'll never be that exact girl with whom I'd identified for so long, I'm going to be someone new. I'm joining a club of ladies who are fabulous for other reasons.
The truth is, the girls at the charity event probably want what I have. They are looking cute, trying to find a guy like Ivan (good luck, he's pretty awesome!), to get the ring, to have the wedding, to have the baby. And then it will be their turn to pee themselves in public. Ah, the circle of life.
So, I am not saying "good-bye" to life, just life as I knew it. And, as I bid my former cute-looking self adieu, I look to the future- to the new ladies I can identify with. I'm finding my new group. Which, with a little luck and maybe some retail therapy, will be the Cute Mommy Club.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Move Over Ladies, Meet My New Best Friend, Carbs
Welcome to Week 9, Everyone! Our baby is the size of a grape, according to some websites, and a green olive according to others. Nice that they consider sweet and savory options. And speaking of sweet or savory options, my choice between the two as of late has been "yes and yes." It's time to get the eating under control, but I'm getting ahead of myself. A post about boobs I promised and a post about boobs you will get- along with all of the other strange happenings of a pregnant body. Buckle up, girls, this should be fun.
Pregnancy is such a strange, strange phenomenon. Each woman has a unique experience and, from what I understand, the experience can be different with each child. The trouble is that while you're dealing with a seemingly random array of ailments, it's still too early to announce to the whole wide world that you're having a baby. So it would appear that you are showing up to work hungover each day and that you really just let yourself go over the summer. You can't explain the REAL reason that you are stalking down to the faculty room during your prep period and picking out all of the jelly munchkins from the box someone brought in. Instead you look like a fatty with no self control, which, if I'm being honest, is becoming partially true.
So just a quick disclaimer: A lot of this post is going to sound like I'm complaining, and I am, in a way. But it is mostly just to make you laugh and to fill you in. And I KNOW that all of the symptoms are such a trivial, temporary price to pay for the miracle that will be our son or daughter and I would and will do it again and then again (God willing). So please don't judge me or think I'm a jerk for writing about this. I know how extremely blessed I am to be able to carry this baby and I really am enjoying every moment of it. That being said, here is a summary of the evil side effects that I've been feeling so far:
1. Exhaustion I mentioned this in the previous post, but it bears repeating. Tired doesn't begin to cover how drained I feel ALL DAY LONG. Now, we teachers are a spoiled bunch, and the first couple of weeks of school usually require a daily nap from 4-5pm, just so we can make it through the evening. So add "first trimester tiredness" to that and see what happens. I'll tell you what happens. You become a slothful ball of mush who cannot FATHOM being able to do ANYTHING after work except sit on the couch. Not wash your tupperware from lunch. Certainly not make dinner. Just lay on the couch and curse Lifetime Television for not yet putting the latest episode of "Drop Dead Diva" on demand yet. (Have you watched that show? It's super-cute!)
2. Sleeplessness Ah, the cruel irony. You can see how this could pose a problem. See, while all day long I daydream of sleep, it turns out that I'm not so good at it anymore. Oh, I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow, around 9:30 each night, but 2:30 rolls around and I am AWAKE. (Now, before you go thinking that maybe I'm going to bed too early, I want you to know that I have always gone to bed at 9:30 and slept like a rock until morning). In the middle of the night my mind is racing about baby stuff, or school stuff, or even nothing in particular and in general it feels like the barrista messed up my afternoon decaf latte order (even when I haven't had a latte that day).
Usually, at this point I become accutely aware of Ivan's snoring. And when I say "become accutely aware of", I really mean "begin plotting his unfortunate demise because of." Because at 3am, it seems quite clear to me that I would have NO problems sleeping at all, if he would just learn to breathe properly! The fact that my body is working in overdrive or that I've got enough hormones in me to fuel a teenage boy (thanks for that analogy, SATC!) doesn't enter into my mind, of course. So I set about pushing my poor husband around until I find a less offensive position or I go downstairs to the guest room. The result of all this, of course, is Zombie Teacher the next day.
But on a positive note:
3. I have boobs now. Listen, Ladies, I have always been a small-chested girl. And even though I've been known to joke about them on occasion, the truth is that I've always loved my boobs. They're "B sized" (meaning B, short for my name, and also my actual size, 32B). I've never had to buy a real sports bra- a bra tank worked just fine, and with the right outfits I could go braless
4. Pregnancy Acne Nature has a way of making a pregnant lady look as repulsive as possible, probably to keep other men away, because we are already being used for the propogation of the species. I am marked territory. I might as well be a giant peed-upon fire hydrant. And this fire hydrant has acne. All OVER her chest and back. Now, I have not been blessed with great skin genes, and neither has my sister for that matter. God saved those up for our jerk brother who never had a pimple in his life (and didn't need braces either). Meanwhile, my sister and I spend our adolescence traveling from one dermatologist to the next, trying every cream, lotion, and chemical peel. We both finally had some skin success with a miracle drug called Accutane. Accutane is a little controversial (a friend of mine reading this now refers to it as "the poison") but it was the only thing that allowed us to wear tank tops as teenagers without feeling like freaks. Well now my body is fighting back by producing the most awful, cystic bumps on my chest and back and they actually HURT. It's gross, I know. I'm sorry. But of course I'm not allowed to use ANYTHING that would actually help the situation- no products with salycylic adid, no benzol peroxide, none of my old stand-bys. Just me and my pregnancy-approved face wash against the world. Grr.
On the upside, I now have
5. Super-human smelling powers. I can sniff out a cookie from a mile away (my previous record was only a quarter of a mile). It's really incredible and amusing. Of course, it works on bad stuff too, which can be unpleasant, but I still feel like a superhero. So crazy!
Another positive note- I have
6. NO NAUSEA OR VOMITING Hoorah!!! I might be kicking myself later for saying this, but I think I'm past my tummy-issue stage. I haven't felt sick in at least a week and even then, it was more of a mild annoyance, not "run to the bathroom immediately" bad. I never even threw up (well, except for on the cruise we took to Bermuda during the hurricane, but I'll save that story for a day when I'm particularly disgusted with life and need a good venting). I know I am SO LUCKY to have escaped so easily on this front, so it even makes the back-ne seem not so bad).
But...
7. I think I smell bad I'm talking B.O. here. No one has said it to me (then again, who would?) but I think it's true. Again, gross. Again, fire hydrant. So now I'm obsessive with the Secret Clinical Strength Deodorant and I'm generally disgusted with myself. And of course this begs the question, "Did I always smell bad but now I can just tell because of my super-human sense of smell?" Yikes.
And finally...
8. Weight gain Now, this, I'm sure, has much more to do with the fact that I haven't worked out in weeks (save for a fabulous sister run this past Saturday) and that while I was feeling nauseous, the most soothing things to eat were delicious carbs. Oh yeah, and the trip to Wildwood, the trip to Chicago, and the cruise (after I was done puking I am a-shamed of the garbage I ate) didn't help things either. I'm not showing yet (nor should I be) but let's just say I've "filled out." Enough so that a table full of girls at lunch duty last week asked if I was pregnant. And let me tell you, just because I am, doesn't mean that it felt good. Because, like I said, I should not be showing. But my pants are definitely tight and though I've kind of been enjoying the more-or-less guilt-free weight gain, I know that it's time to get back on track. Now that I'm starting to feel better, it's time to get back to the gym. And although the baby really wanted that bag of salt and vinegar potato chips that I ate on Saturday night, it's time to start acting like a mommy and not give the baby everything that he or she wants, but save it for those special treats.
Like pumpkin spice Hershey's Kisses.
Pregnancy is such a strange, strange phenomenon. Each woman has a unique experience and, from what I understand, the experience can be different with each child. The trouble is that while you're dealing with a seemingly random array of ailments, it's still too early to announce to the whole wide world that you're having a baby. So it would appear that you are showing up to work hungover each day and that you really just let yourself go over the summer. You can't explain the REAL reason that you are stalking down to the faculty room during your prep period and picking out all of the jelly munchkins from the box someone brought in. Instead you look like a fatty with no self control, which, if I'm being honest, is becoming partially true.
So just a quick disclaimer: A lot of this post is going to sound like I'm complaining, and I am, in a way. But it is mostly just to make you laugh and to fill you in. And I KNOW that all of the symptoms are such a trivial, temporary price to pay for the miracle that will be our son or daughter and I would and will do it again and then again (God willing). So please don't judge me or think I'm a jerk for writing about this. I know how extremely blessed I am to be able to carry this baby and I really am enjoying every moment of it. That being said, here is a summary of the evil side effects that I've been feeling so far:
1. Exhaustion I mentioned this in the previous post, but it bears repeating. Tired doesn't begin to cover how drained I feel ALL DAY LONG. Now, we teachers are a spoiled bunch, and the first couple of weeks of school usually require a daily nap from 4-5pm, just so we can make it through the evening. So add "first trimester tiredness" to that and see what happens. I'll tell you what happens. You become a slothful ball of mush who cannot FATHOM being able to do ANYTHING after work except sit on the couch. Not wash your tupperware from lunch. Certainly not make dinner. Just lay on the couch and curse Lifetime Television for not yet putting the latest episode of "Drop Dead Diva" on demand yet. (Have you watched that show? It's super-cute!)
2. Sleeplessness Ah, the cruel irony. You can see how this could pose a problem. See, while all day long I daydream of sleep, it turns out that I'm not so good at it anymore. Oh, I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow, around 9:30 each night, but 2:30 rolls around and I am AWAKE. (Now, before you go thinking that maybe I'm going to bed too early, I want you to know that I have always gone to bed at 9:30 and slept like a rock until morning). In the middle of the night my mind is racing about baby stuff, or school stuff, or even nothing in particular and in general it feels like the barrista messed up my afternoon decaf latte order (even when I haven't had a latte that day).
Usually, at this point I become accutely aware of Ivan's snoring. And when I say "become accutely aware of", I really mean "begin plotting his unfortunate demise because of." Because at 3am, it seems quite clear to me that I would have NO problems sleeping at all, if he would just learn to breathe properly! The fact that my body is working in overdrive or that I've got enough hormones in me to fuel a teenage boy (thanks for that analogy, SATC!) doesn't enter into my mind, of course. So I set about pushing my poor husband around until I find a less offensive position or I go downstairs to the guest room. The result of all this, of course, is Zombie Teacher the next day.
But on a positive note:
3. I have boobs now. Listen, Ladies, I have always been a small-chested girl. And even though I've been known to joke about them on occasion, the truth is that I've always loved my boobs. They're "B sized" (meaning B, short for my name, and also my actual size, 32B). I've never had to buy a real sports bra- a bra tank worked just fine, and with the right outfits I could go braless
4. Pregnancy Acne Nature has a way of making a pregnant lady look as repulsive as possible, probably to keep other men away, because we are already being used for the propogation of the species. I am marked territory. I might as well be a giant peed-upon fire hydrant. And this fire hydrant has acne. All OVER her chest and back. Now, I have not been blessed with great skin genes, and neither has my sister for that matter. God saved those up for our jerk brother who never had a pimple in his life (and didn't need braces either). Meanwhile, my sister and I spend our adolescence traveling from one dermatologist to the next, trying every cream, lotion, and chemical peel. We both finally had some skin success with a miracle drug called Accutane. Accutane is a little controversial (a friend of mine reading this now refers to it as "the poison") but it was the only thing that allowed us to wear tank tops as teenagers without feeling like freaks. Well now my body is fighting back by producing the most awful, cystic bumps on my chest and back and they actually HURT. It's gross, I know. I'm sorry. But of course I'm not allowed to use ANYTHING that would actually help the situation- no products with salycylic adid, no benzol peroxide, none of my old stand-bys. Just me and my pregnancy-approved face wash against the world. Grr.
On the upside, I now have
5. Super-human smelling powers. I can sniff out a cookie from a mile away (my previous record was only a quarter of a mile). It's really incredible and amusing. Of course, it works on bad stuff too, which can be unpleasant, but I still feel like a superhero. So crazy!
Another positive note- I have
6. NO NAUSEA OR VOMITING Hoorah!!! I might be kicking myself later for saying this, but I think I'm past my tummy-issue stage. I haven't felt sick in at least a week and even then, it was more of a mild annoyance, not "run to the bathroom immediately" bad. I never even threw up (well, except for on the cruise we took to Bermuda during the hurricane, but I'll save that story for a day when I'm particularly disgusted with life and need a good venting). I know I am SO LUCKY to have escaped so easily on this front, so it even makes the back-ne seem not so bad).
But...
7. I think I smell bad I'm talking B.O. here. No one has said it to me (then again, who would?) but I think it's true. Again, gross. Again, fire hydrant. So now I'm obsessive with the Secret Clinical Strength Deodorant and I'm generally disgusted with myself. And of course this begs the question, "Did I always smell bad but now I can just tell because of my super-human sense of smell?" Yikes.
And finally...
8. Weight gain Now, this, I'm sure, has much more to do with the fact that I haven't worked out in weeks (save for a fabulous sister run this past Saturday) and that while I was feeling nauseous, the most soothing things to eat were delicious carbs. Oh yeah, and the trip to Wildwood, the trip to Chicago, and the cruise (after I was done puking I am a-shamed of the garbage I ate) didn't help things either. I'm not showing yet (nor should I be) but let's just say I've "filled out." Enough so that a table full of girls at lunch duty last week asked if I was pregnant. And let me tell you, just because I am, doesn't mean that it felt good. Because, like I said, I should not be showing. But my pants are definitely tight and though I've kind of been enjoying the more-or-less guilt-free weight gain, I know that it's time to get back on track. Now that I'm starting to feel better, it's time to get back to the gym. And although the baby really wanted that bag of salt and vinegar potato chips that I ate on Saturday night, it's time to start acting like a mommy and not give the baby everything that he or she wants, but save it for those special treats.
Like pumpkin spice Hershey's Kisses.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
My Little Blueberry is All Grown Up!
On Monday, Ivan and I went to our 8 week appt. at the OBGYN. Our little baby is now the size of a kidney bean. Just last week he/she was a blueberry- which, admittedly is cuter to say than kidney bean, though I kind of like the idea of my little Bean. :) It is truly amazing how quickly the little one is growing. When we found out, he/she was the size of a poppy seed. A week later we had a sesame seed. Then a lentil, a blueberry, and a kidney bean! What an exhausting 4 weeks!
We were also given a magazine called, "As Your Baby Grows, From Conception to Birth." It is truly miraculous to see actual photos of the development of a baby. To this point I had only seen drawings and those amazed me. These are just beyond belief. There are little arms, legs, and webbed fingers and toes! The tail is almost gone. It truly is a miracle. (The whole process, not just the tail being gone. I'm not anti-tail. If my baby was born with a tail, I'd love him or her just the same.) :)
We didn't get to do an ultrasound this time- I think we were both a little bummed. When we went a week ago we did one and I can see how it can be addicting. We got to see the teeny, tiny heartbeat and I, of course, started crying. (I am nothing if not overly emotional.) Ivan was in pure shock. He thought that Baby H was just a ball of cells thus far. He could not believe that those cells had already specialized and begun to form the systems in a human body. Maybe it's time for a "follow along pregnancy companion" book for him. Hmmm...
Anyway, the doctor seems to think that everything is going very well. It was a long appointment- you know, the whole drill: urine sample, internal exam, blood drawn. Ivan got to witness the ins and outs of the PAP smear experience (no pun intended) and see what boys have been missing out on all this time. He stood up by my head and I'm pretty sure tried to disappear into the wall. He couldn't watch as I got 11 (yes, 11!) viles of blood drawn. I guess that's why we're the ones who do this- right girls?
So I took my packet of instructions and made my next appointment for 4 weeks from now. 4 weeks! It's such a long time! I could get used to going in once a week, seeing the baby and having a responsible medical professional listen to me vent about my symptoms. They are a lot more sympathetic than WebMD, let me tell you. C'mon. Who among us has not thought we were mere weeks away from death after typing "headache" into a symptom tracker? That's what I thought.
Speaking of symptoms... I would have to say that relatively speaking, I've been pretty blessed. I'm feeling well, if not completely exhausted, which is, of course, completely worth it. Last week, when I told my fabulous girlfriends, "I needed two naps today and I didn't even DO anything!" they responded, "Umm... you're growing a baby." Oh yeah! That. :) So now I'm wearing my tiredness as a sort of badge of honor.
I'm excited to tell you about all of the other weird symptoms I've got going on so far, but it's almost time for another nap. Humongous boobs and super sonic smells to be discussed next time!
We were also given a magazine called, "As Your Baby Grows, From Conception to Birth." It is truly miraculous to see actual photos of the development of a baby. To this point I had only seen drawings and those amazed me. These are just beyond belief. There are little arms, legs, and webbed fingers and toes! The tail is almost gone. It truly is a miracle. (The whole process, not just the tail being gone. I'm not anti-tail. If my baby was born with a tail, I'd love him or her just the same.) :)
We didn't get to do an ultrasound this time- I think we were both a little bummed. When we went a week ago we did one and I can see how it can be addicting. We got to see the teeny, tiny heartbeat and I, of course, started crying. (I am nothing if not overly emotional.) Ivan was in pure shock. He thought that Baby H was just a ball of cells thus far. He could not believe that those cells had already specialized and begun to form the systems in a human body. Maybe it's time for a "follow along pregnancy companion" book for him. Hmmm...
Anyway, the doctor seems to think that everything is going very well. It was a long appointment- you know, the whole drill: urine sample, internal exam, blood drawn. Ivan got to witness the ins and outs of the PAP smear experience (no pun intended) and see what boys have been missing out on all this time. He stood up by my head and I'm pretty sure tried to disappear into the wall. He couldn't watch as I got 11 (yes, 11!) viles of blood drawn. I guess that's why we're the ones who do this- right girls?
So I took my packet of instructions and made my next appointment for 4 weeks from now. 4 weeks! It's such a long time! I could get used to going in once a week, seeing the baby and having a responsible medical professional listen to me vent about my symptoms. They are a lot more sympathetic than WebMD, let me tell you. C'mon. Who among us has not thought we were mere weeks away from death after typing "headache" into a symptom tracker? That's what I thought.
Speaking of symptoms... I would have to say that relatively speaking, I've been pretty blessed. I'm feeling well, if not completely exhausted, which is, of course, completely worth it. Last week, when I told my fabulous girlfriends, "I needed two naps today and I didn't even DO anything!" they responded, "Umm... you're growing a baby." Oh yeah! That. :) So now I'm wearing my tiredness as a sort of badge of honor.
I'm excited to tell you about all of the other weird symptoms I've got going on so far, but it's almost time for another nap. Humongous boobs and super sonic smells to be discussed next time!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Ready or Not!
Today I am officially 8 weeks pregnant and I thought it might be fun to blog about the experience of becoming a parent for the first time. Hopefully, friends and family with whom I don't speak as often as I'd like can get updates here, and at the very least this might be fun for the grown-up baby to read someday!
Since the blog is public, I'll refer to myself only as "B" and my husband has requested to be called "Ivan." That shouldn't be weird or anything. So try not to be too distracted by his choice of name- it is us, and hopefully some of our thoughts and actions described will reassure you of that!
So, I'll start with a little backstory on how we came to find out that our lives were about to change forever.
The morning of August 14, I woke up groggy after hosting our annual bbq for our friends the night before. In our typical "Squeeze-in-as-much-as-possible-to-every-waking-hour-style," Ivan and I had scheduled the party for the night before a family vaction to the Jersey Shore and we had just a few hours to pack up and ship out. In the meantime, we had at least four house guests sleeping in various parts of our home, as we do throw a rousing party, if I do say so myself. I had partaken in my fair share of white wine but was able to wake up easily enough around 8:30 am- pretty impressive for me. As I ran the shower, I noted once again that my monthy "friend" had not arrived yet. (Why do we call it that by the way? Anything that puts us through that kind of torture on a regular basis is most assurdedly our enemy and should be treated accordingly) . And so, knowing that our vacation in Wildwood would be a week-long cocktail party, albeit with breakfast cereals as the hors' ovueres, I decided to take one more test, just to be sure.
You see, I had taken a test earlier that week, and one the week previous and both had been negative. In an attempt to spare you details I'm sure you're in no hurry to learn, I will put it this way: Ivan and I had stopped "being careful" during a time of the month when I thought we'd be free and clear. However, as a girl who has been trained to think that unprotected eye contact with a man would lead to pregnancy, I had taken these two previous tests just to be sure. I was prepared to have them all come back negative and laugh in society's over-protective face: "See, Society? I could have been careless all along!!! What do you know?!"
Turns out a lot. Turns out that when you make the choice to not pretect yourself, you had better be darn ready to become a mommy. You hear that younger cousins??? :)
We had decided to start actively trying the following month. I had it all planned out. The timing would be perfect- we'd be due just in time for me to conduct the spring concert and our annual competition for my public school choir teaching job and then get to miss those blastedly hot June days in an un-airconditioned, delapadated school building. It was all settled. Of course, we plan and God laughs. Which means that God should have to pay a cover charge to deal with me, because I am a PLANNER.
But I digress. I took the test, brushed my teeth, put my contacts in, flipped the test over, and fainted. Well, I didn't really faint. But I felt like I could. I now understand the phrase "the room was spinning" (when gin and tonics are not involved, of course). As I showered, I tried to wrap my mind around it. I felt terrible for engaging in non-pregnant lady activities up until even a few hours ago. I was messing up already. I apologized to my tiny baby, "I'm so sorry, Baby! I had no idea! I promise I will take great care of you from now on!"
Now how is that for a secret? What an insane feeling- to be the only one in the world who knows- just you and God. Of course, my first instinct was to run and tell Ivan. Okay, that's not quite true. My first instinct was to run downstairs and tell my sister, as she was sleeping over and we have a freakishly close bond, not to mention she has been less than patient with her demands to become an aunt. (She says she has grown tired of me and wants a new little friend. Humph).
Luckily, common sense (and common decency) kicked in and let me know that Ivan needed to be the first to know. I had daydreamed in the past about a cute way to tell him when the time came, so I quickly set about putting my plan in place. After dressing and primping in record time, I set off to Target and bought both a tiny Yankees and Mets onsie, along with What to Expect When You're Expecting, Your Pregancy Week by Week, and another pregnancy test, just to be sure. I was sure the cashier would remark on my purchases, if not on my newly pregnant glow (everyone had to be able to tell, right?) but the teenage kid was oblivious and I left feeling indignant.
I spent the next hour in church, attending Mass with my sister, which, let me tell you, was the toughest hour of my life. Upon later reflection, she said I was doing a lot of praying during that hour. Mercifully, when we got home, she left right away to go pack. Thank goodness I was seeing her in a few short hours.
Upstairs in our house, I took the backup test, this time a digital version that harshly blinked "YES." No smiley face, no exclamation point, just "YES." Sheesh. I wrapped up the tests with the onsies and called Ivan upstairs to give him a "gift for vacation." When he opened the present he kind of laughed and said, "Oh, that's cute... . . . .
(pause for boy to figure out what is actually happening)...
NO WAY." I showed him the positive tests and we disolved into laughter, tears, and hugs. I think we were both shaking for a few minutes... we were completely bewildered.
I will always be grateful for the blessing of being able to see our families that day. Under the ruse of needing to borrow a cooler for the trip (we needed it anyway, but it was more of an excuse) we went to Ivan's moms' house and when there was a break in conversation (which is no small feat with this bunch!) he was able to squeak out, "So- we're having a baby." After a nanosecond of stunned silence, jubilation ensued. My sister-in-law was particularly shocked, as we had just seen each other at the party the night before and being that her Biological Aunt Clock has been ticking just as loudly as my sister's I believe she has been tracking my drinking habits for awhile now! It was so emotional. Ivan cried. We had sparlking cider. It was such a celebration.
We left there, deer in the parenting headlights still, shaking with the emotion of telling our secret and the anticipation of telling my family. By God's grace, the whole family was at my parents' house, some members stewing about our lateness. We asked my parents if they were excited for their upcoming trip to Hawaii. Then I told them, "You have one job to do while on vacation. You need to figure out what you want your grandchild to call you." Well, something like that. I was so nervous, I bumbled the words. But whatever I said got the job done because my mom's eyes flew open and she screeched, "WHAT?!" just before she embraced me. More jubulation ensued. Hugs were passed all around. Aunt-To-Be sat on the couch with her mouth hanging open. As luck would have it, my Aunt R and Uncle E stopped by no more than two minutes later, wondering why we were all standing with our hands on our mouths. There were more screams and hugs, along with a girls' pow-wow in the kitchen to discuss calendar details. My dad walked around with a dreamy smile the rest of the time we were there.
We'll never have another day like that. It was truly electric and maybe the most fun I've ever had. It's certainly up there. So I kissed my wine, Splenda, cold cuts, and unpastuerized cheeses goodbye that day and embarked on the journey to mommy-hood. But I was certainly not on my own. I have the most amazing partner in life, as well as the most loving a family you can imagine cheering me on and helping welcome our new little friend into our lives.
Since the blog is public, I'll refer to myself only as "B" and my husband has requested to be called "Ivan." That shouldn't be weird or anything. So try not to be too distracted by his choice of name- it is us, and hopefully some of our thoughts and actions described will reassure you of that!
So, I'll start with a little backstory on how we came to find out that our lives were about to change forever.
The morning of August 14, I woke up groggy after hosting our annual bbq for our friends the night before. In our typical "Squeeze-in-as-much-as-possible-to-every-waking-hour-style," Ivan and I had scheduled the party for the night before a family vaction to the Jersey Shore and we had just a few hours to pack up and ship out. In the meantime, we had at least four house guests sleeping in various parts of our home, as we do throw a rousing party, if I do say so myself. I had partaken in my fair share of white wine but was able to wake up easily enough around 8:30 am- pretty impressive for me. As I ran the shower, I noted once again that my monthy "friend" had not arrived yet. (Why do we call it that by the way? Anything that puts us through that kind of torture on a regular basis is most assurdedly our enemy and should be treated accordingly) . And so, knowing that our vacation in Wildwood would be a week-long cocktail party, albeit with breakfast cereals as the hors' ovueres, I decided to take one more test, just to be sure.
You see, I had taken a test earlier that week, and one the week previous and both had been negative. In an attempt to spare you details I'm sure you're in no hurry to learn, I will put it this way: Ivan and I had stopped "being careful" during a time of the month when I thought we'd be free and clear. However, as a girl who has been trained to think that unprotected eye contact with a man would lead to pregnancy, I had taken these two previous tests just to be sure. I was prepared to have them all come back negative and laugh in society's over-protective face: "See, Society? I could have been careless all along!!! What do you know?!"
Turns out a lot. Turns out that when you make the choice to not pretect yourself, you had better be darn ready to become a mommy. You hear that younger cousins??? :)
We had decided to start actively trying the following month. I had it all planned out. The timing would be perfect- we'd be due just in time for me to conduct the spring concert and our annual competition for my public school choir teaching job and then get to miss those blastedly hot June days in an un-airconditioned, delapadated school building. It was all settled. Of course, we plan and God laughs. Which means that God should have to pay a cover charge to deal with me, because I am a PLANNER.
But I digress. I took the test, brushed my teeth, put my contacts in, flipped the test over, and fainted. Well, I didn't really faint. But I felt like I could. I now understand the phrase "the room was spinning" (when gin and tonics are not involved, of course). As I showered, I tried to wrap my mind around it. I felt terrible for engaging in non-pregnant lady activities up until even a few hours ago. I was messing up already. I apologized to my tiny baby, "I'm so sorry, Baby! I had no idea! I promise I will take great care of you from now on!"
Now how is that for a secret? What an insane feeling- to be the only one in the world who knows- just you and God. Of course, my first instinct was to run and tell Ivan. Okay, that's not quite true. My first instinct was to run downstairs and tell my sister, as she was sleeping over and we have a freakishly close bond, not to mention she has been less than patient with her demands to become an aunt. (She says she has grown tired of me and wants a new little friend. Humph).
Luckily, common sense (and common decency) kicked in and let me know that Ivan needed to be the first to know. I had daydreamed in the past about a cute way to tell him when the time came, so I quickly set about putting my plan in place. After dressing and primping in record time, I set off to Target and bought both a tiny Yankees and Mets onsie, along with What to Expect When You're Expecting, Your Pregancy Week by Week, and another pregnancy test, just to be sure. I was sure the cashier would remark on my purchases, if not on my newly pregnant glow (everyone had to be able to tell, right?) but the teenage kid was oblivious and I left feeling indignant.
I spent the next hour in church, attending Mass with my sister, which, let me tell you, was the toughest hour of my life. Upon later reflection, she said I was doing a lot of praying during that hour. Mercifully, when we got home, she left right away to go pack. Thank goodness I was seeing her in a few short hours.
Upstairs in our house, I took the backup test, this time a digital version that harshly blinked "YES." No smiley face, no exclamation point, just "YES." Sheesh. I wrapped up the tests with the onsies and called Ivan upstairs to give him a "gift for vacation." When he opened the present he kind of laughed and said, "Oh, that's cute... . . . .
(pause for boy to figure out what is actually happening)...
NO WAY." I showed him the positive tests and we disolved into laughter, tears, and hugs. I think we were both shaking for a few minutes... we were completely bewildered.
I will always be grateful for the blessing of being able to see our families that day. Under the ruse of needing to borrow a cooler for the trip (we needed it anyway, but it was more of an excuse) we went to Ivan's moms' house and when there was a break in conversation (which is no small feat with this bunch!) he was able to squeak out, "So- we're having a baby." After a nanosecond of stunned silence, jubilation ensued. My sister-in-law was particularly shocked, as we had just seen each other at the party the night before and being that her Biological Aunt Clock has been ticking just as loudly as my sister's I believe she has been tracking my drinking habits for awhile now! It was so emotional. Ivan cried. We had sparlking cider. It was such a celebration.
We left there, deer in the parenting headlights still, shaking with the emotion of telling our secret and the anticipation of telling my family. By God's grace, the whole family was at my parents' house, some members stewing about our lateness. We asked my parents if they were excited for their upcoming trip to Hawaii. Then I told them, "You have one job to do while on vacation. You need to figure out what you want your grandchild to call you." Well, something like that. I was so nervous, I bumbled the words. But whatever I said got the job done because my mom's eyes flew open and she screeched, "WHAT?!" just before she embraced me. More jubulation ensued. Hugs were passed all around. Aunt-To-Be sat on the couch with her mouth hanging open. As luck would have it, my Aunt R and Uncle E stopped by no more than two minutes later, wondering why we were all standing with our hands on our mouths. There were more screams and hugs, along with a girls' pow-wow in the kitchen to discuss calendar details. My dad walked around with a dreamy smile the rest of the time we were there.
We'll never have another day like that. It was truly electric and maybe the most fun I've ever had. It's certainly up there. So I kissed my wine, Splenda, cold cuts, and unpastuerized cheeses goodbye that day and embarked on the journey to mommy-hood. But I was certainly not on my own. I have the most amazing partner in life, as well as the most loving a family you can imagine cheering me on and helping welcome our new little friend into our lives.
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