5 Months, growing slowly

I know you looked at that restorative fish thing and were like--where's her belly?

The arch the pillow puts in your back makes everything retreat, so here is a picture of me on this same day, standing up:

Everyone says I'm carrying small for five months. I've only gained 8 pounds so far (I started at 153, and am now at 161). Must be the yoga...or the 4 months of nausea.

Truth be told, even though my appetite is coming back, I'm trying as often as I can to make a conscious effort to be healthy. They sayy that once the baby gets some tastebuds going (early in the second trimester) amniotic fluid tastes different every day, and they can be conditioned to like the things that you're eating, whether it's oreos, cheeseburgers, carrots or kale.

Even in my first trimester, I was lucky enough to be able to eat a lot of fruit (more than usual even) without issue. I've been favoring dairy products and vegetarian options most often lately, but not deliberately. I've added some red meat back in, but still haven't tried any fish. [I also hate chicken right now. No matter how tender and juicy anyone else would percieve it, it always, always tastes dry to me. And mostly just bad.]

In light of my current habits, I'm kind of hoping this holds true, and maybe I won't get a picky eater. I do have kind of a nasty snowball habit forming, but hey, if the kid's going to grow up in Maryland, he might as well preview a few flavors.

Nom nom--cherry with shmushmellow!

Mommy Yoga

I have been to three prenatal yoga classes so far, and today I went to one without Kate as a buddy. It wasn't as much fun as when she was there, but she's due in about a week, and I have to learn to function as a single mother...one mother. At yoga. I have to make more friends.

Before class, I went to one of my old students' lacrosse games, which was only 15 minutes away from final destination. I overstayed and chatted by about 20 minutes, and then was forced to grumble in traffic on a very long road with a billion lights on it until I got there and found street parking.

I was about 2 blocks away from the studio, and at this point I was 15 minutes late, and began to powerwalk uphill. This quickly became a powerwaddle, as my round ligaments began acting up, inciting a feeling almost identical to those miserable side cramps you get while jogging, but just inside and below my hip bones on either side. Pressing on them with 2 fingers on each side is helpful, but looks a little weird while hustling about town.

I got in, now 20 minutes late, hurried the best I could to the bathroom, and snuck into class. I noticed when I signed in that there were already 19 glowing ladies signed in, and I wasn't sure quite what I'd find for a spot.

I walked in, and had to stop entirely for about 30 seconds before finding literally the only place I would be able to fit. I use the word "fit" like you might when you jam the last coke into a beach cooler and sit on the lid.

This "spot" was the yoga equivilent of Harry Potter's bedroom under the stairs.

I fit the long way, but width wise I only had about 3 inches on either side of my mat. For poses where we laid on the floor, I had to rest my elbows on 2 different walls instead of "fully extending in a T position". There was a music speaker (playing music in English, get with it yoga teacher!) right next to my right ear, and a picture window facing the street was directly behind me. There was a colorful screen there, but I guarantee someone still saw me struggle-bussing it in warrior 2.

The teacher kept saying variations of the phrase "I can do hard things". I found that to be self-evident from the corner of the room I shared with a small spider.

Here is a recreation of my favorite pose, which we do for the last 10-15 minutes of every class:

"restorative [dead] fish".

Maternity Garb

Just...LOOK AT THIS.

AWWWWwwwwwwWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

He's a fluffy lion.

He's a gift from our friend Karey, who recently had a beautiful baby girl named Ruby! Karey is awesome, not only generally, but also because she gave me a LARGE bag of maternity clothes way back when I felt like a misfit toy in any maternity or baby section of a retail establishment.

These clothes ranged from yoga pants and leggings, to jeans with belly bands, to some super useful tops! I started wearing the tops right away, which was my secret rebellion against perception when I didn't have a baby bump. They're just a bit longer than regular tops, with rouched sides that secretly harbor lots of stretchy cotton. They were well-fitting, so no one knew except for me, and the maternity tags burning the back of my neck when people told me they liked them.

Now, however, I can wear almost all of the stuff--the 2 identical pairs of jeans are now more than appropriate, as I'm getting a bit tired of negotiating the belly band. Plus, they're boot-cut, and are super easy to roll up into capris!

Maternity clothes are expensive for a short-term investment. I guarantee you know SOMEONE who has some. People will offer them, because it turns out that most people feel that exponentially expandable fashions with bare-threaded abdominal areas lose all of their value IMMEDIATELY after giving birth.

Do NOT tell anyone that you don't want them, even if you're closet is at max capacity (or you think they look ungodly, they won't in a few months). You will need them before you know it, and you may not have time (or money) to go shopping that inevitable day. I was excited to fit them, but also sad to see some old standards of mine go.

Here's one in particular that's near and dear to my heart, but doesn't pair well with a baby bump. I tried it on while my sister was here a week or so ago, and was so optimistic about it still being viable for wearing.

"Does this look weird?"
"Yes." [end of discussion, goes back to original activity]
"{whimpering and other pitiful noises}"

The layers, THE LAYERS!! Oh the humanity. It was once adorable, now it looks like I got my feathers ruffled. They will not lay. They just won't. {whimper} Back to my sundress cache.

Pregnant Pals

Just when you thought Facebook was collecting too much of your personal information, you decided to just go ahead and share the rest of it. People you barely talk to, or even know, who are your "friends" have access to a huge new chapter of your life, your insights, your craziness. Some might say--are you sure you want to share all of this information in such detail?

You don't really mind--you were going to write it anyway, and besides--if you can't laugh over your life (or let perfect strangers do it with you), it leaves something to be desired.

What I (I mean, you) have found, is that it's actually been quite rewarding. You've gotten some small, if valuable pats on the back, and have a new hobby. However, the very best thing about sharing stuff, is that it makes other people share stuff--and then you learn that really cool people are ALSO HAVING BABIES!!!


I have sparked up a friendship with one girl/lady in particular I went to high school with, who lives about 45 minutes away. We weren't like, after-school-hangout friends, but we knew each other by face, name and demeanor, and I think we would've had a great time working on some sort of project together--that kind of thing.

She sent me a message saying she was due in June, mentioning that she came up my way for yoga classes pretty often, and suggested we grab lunch, to which I enthusiastically agreed.

We met up for the first time right before Mother's Day I think, and aside from the fact that we had a really nice lunch at one of my favorite places, we also had some completely refreshing conversation. I felt like a million bucks by the time we finished our two-hour meal (mostly talking, lay off), and it's because I realized how different this time was compared to the months of asking questions and collecting stories from women who already had been pregnant.

After talking with my new/old friend, who was a few months ahead, but largely in the same place as I was, I found great security in the relevance, uncertainty, and commiseration that were shared in our conversation. It made me feel more comfortable in my instincts, confident in my research, and content in my body. Here are more of my thoughts as to why this is so fantastic:

Important for young pregnant women:
For your own mental health, try to find someone about your age (important) and demeanor (also important) to talk to who is also pregnant (most important). I have strong feelings about the idea that as soon as most women actually push out that first kid, they lose empathy for newly pregnant women--often saying things like "it only gets worse", "this is nothing", and "oh, just you wait", all of which are equally unhelpful.

What are helpful, are phrases that will undoubtedly be uttered by your pregnant friend--things like, "I KNOW", "So I'm not the only one", "HAHAHAHAHA", and "I have to pee too".

The reason I mention age has more to do with relevance than anything else. You may trust your women relatives, co-workers and friends with your whole heart, but if they're not in the same age bracket as you (if the last child they delivered was at least twenty years ago), there is something far removed about the urgency, and sometimes accuracy of their advice. Having your kids fully grown and healthy sort of just leaves you with an "everything will be fine" remnant, which in a way is helpful, but you often want to talk serious turkey here without someone making you feel like you're freaking out. (You need the security of relevance.)

The wide-eyedness of your questions about hospital birth alone will incite a "just relax" overtone, and then--woop--here come the experiences and recommendations, which may or may not scare the hell out of you. Do not misunderstand me: it is good to hear the experiences of older, wiser women. But you can't only talk to them, or you will only be scared for nine whole months. Even fast moving labors aren't a cake walk, and of course you're going to hear about how much it sucks if you ask people how it went. And the scariest thing will be that you know you won't get any of their experiences, and you'll get a whole new cocktail of terror stuck in your mind that you'll have the rest of your pregnancy to fret about.

Fear-mongering ("sharing") is a great tradition among women, and there becomes a bit of competitiveness about it--the number of hours, the length of a contraction, use of an intervention, THE SIZE OF A HEAD. We all just want to be the toughest, or the most greatly pitied.

That's why finding a friend who has a relatively clean slate is ideal. Then you can honestly talk about what you want, what you're afraid of, what you're okay with or even excited for without someone trying to give you an answer, counter or solution (Security in mutual uncertainty). I personally think not knowing everything can be a good thing, as it often leaves a larger chance that things can go amazingly well.

Now, when I say demeanor, I largely mean two things: do you both have the same general ideas about what you want for your birth (unmedicated homebirth, scheduled c-section, in-between), and can you trust that this person will hang out with you again after you tell her about a weird spot you found on your nip (aka do you have security in commiserating with her).

If there is too great a disparity between your birthing plans, you may not feel super comfortable talking about it (again: it sounds like you're competing), and won't be able to enrich your own knowledge about things you'd like for yourself or your baby. Birth is such a personal thing, and I've largely gathered that as long as everyone's healthy, there's no wrong way to do it, but I also know that it's hard to open up, feel safe or be willing to learn around someone who is adamantly not in the same boat as you.

This has been on my mind for a while, and after hanging out with Kate a few times, I've been able to piece together why it's been so helpful to me. We're both birthing in hospitals with midwives, and want to go as natural as possible. There are some minor separations--where I plan on taking a natural childbirth class, she has been reading some really helpful books instead (which she has shared with me). I plan on trying out waterbirth since it's available in my hospital--things like that.

It's a very open exchange--lots of laughing--very calm and optimistic. We don't dwell on what we're afraid of, and it seems we've both kind of made a decision to just take that phase of our pregnancies head-on. It's been an unbelievable relief, and a ton of fun. Literally got this fortune cookie the night after we hung out:

Soooooo TRUE!

Bottom line is that no one has all the answers, or knows how it's all going to go, but everyone should be allowed to dream up what their ideal birth should entail, without worry or judgement. I would recommend checking out places like What to Expect or BabyCenter's online communities if you're not lucky enough to have a friend or two who's pregnancy overlaps with yours in as many ways as you want. You can even find other people who are trying to conceive if you're not there yet.

Then you can be awkward and arch your backs, together!

SO MANY THINGS

Ohhhh my goodness...

It's been wayyy too long since I've posted, but there are so many contributors to the equation, I doubt you'll even be mad about it. Big, bad number one is that we moved a half hour away to a new spot outside of the city. 2-10 are minor compared to that, and really, just the first one should be excuse enough, so please, just let it go. For the baby.

I left off at Mother's day, and I have SO MUCH to spew to the world--all good, all exciting.

Frank has to work for a bit on this beautiful Memorial Day, so I figured I too could do some "work", and catch up with myself. I'll try to date them accurately if I can.

Here's a great picture of a snowball I got at a little shack a couple miles from our new home :) BOO YAH. Needless to say, I've relaxed a good bit about the artificial coloring thing...WHAT? It's the first weekend of summer...The baby wanted it. (And it's just a kiddie size! WHY am I defending myself
 to you people?!) Blue is supposed to be good for brain protection or something anyway. Look it up, it's real.

Brad Paisley made me cry (boy or girl?)

May 16th

So this was the big day--time to find out if this little baby was really a boy, as I have been dreaming day and night, or if it was a girl. Frank for some reason thought it was a girl, an idea which I did not encourage or humor in any way, as he can attest. We both felt so confident (although I'm sure I was more confident) that he even posed a very small bet to me. Whoever "guesses" (knows) correctly, gets to choose baby's first outfit before we come home for the first time, as a family. I agreed, assuring Frank that I'd still let him help me pick out our little boy's outfit, even after it was medically confirmed that I've been right for an entire 4 months.

I did not entirely relieve myself of my tutoring schedule on this day, and would have to make a couple of appointments in the area of the Dr.'s office two or so hours after the big ultrasound. To avoid Frank having to stick around and do nothing while I worked with my students, we drove separate cars to the tutoring center, and then I hopped in with him, and we were off.

But not before Brad Paisley made me cry.

I have been hearing this song for months, smiling madly each time it plays in whole or in part. I'd picture my little boy drawing on my walls or telling me he loved me for the first time and just smiiiiile, smile, smile.

But today...this day, this song made me so afraid that I was wrong--that I'd be having an adorable, latina-looking, dinosaur-loving girl instead--that I cried when I tried to sing along with it. I realized that not only had I totally sold myself on wanting a stinky little boy, but I was completely unprepared for the alternative. I had never seriously considered the idea that it was truly only a 50/50 shot. I was so excited and anxious that I just kept driving, hopeful and terrified, silently leaking tears until the final chords rang out.

SPOILER ALERT: IT'S A BOY!

This, is Theodore. Theo. My son.

No, those are not warts on his face, those are his little baby finger tips. Apparently, ultrasound can look through all kinds of things. He also has his mouth open, and that's his little tongue sticking out. That's daddy's nose, and my chin. He should be a lot plushier when he comes out all screaming and beautiful, but this was definitely my favorite picture of the batch, and I wanted to share it.

It was kind of funny when the Sonographer (apparently not just a tech) was telling us what he was--it went like this:

Lady: Well, that's pretty easy to see

One of us: Um..what is?

Lady: You're having a little boy. He's not shy at all--look he's got his legs wide open!

Me: (Slapping Frank's arm) AHHHH I TOLD(")YOU IT WAS A BOY(")!!!

Frank kind of had the reaction I think I may have had if he had been a girl (minus overt sobbing)--he was a bit taken aback, and had to process for a few minutes before getting really excited and yelling in the parking lot.

We called our parents and siblings and friends and squealed over how many of us (women) were right all along. My dad in particular had braced himself for another girl in the family, after having a peak of four women living in his house with no masculine reprieve for all of these years. I firmly believe he just didn't want to get his hopes up--but here's how the call to him sounded:

Me: Hiiii Daaaad

Dad: Hiiii Carrrr

Me: Soooo, we just had our ultrasound...and I don't want you to be disappointed but...iiiit's aaa BOOYYYY!!!

Dad: Wooow...Well, ya proved me wrong, I thought for sure it'd be 'like mother, like daughter', and you'd have all girls.

Me: Nope, it's definitely a boy.

Dad: All riiiight! Now I got someone to go fishin' with--enough with this girl stuff!

Me: Haha, you earned it, Dad.

The whole thing was awesome--not only to have great feedback about how he was growing, but to be spot on right with my intuition. They say all mothers have it, and it's stronger than most forces on this earth. Such conviction is a bit scary, because it's so impossible to ignore, but truth be told, if you can't ignore something, you obviously shouldn't. Heretofore--I like it. Gives me a feeling of natural preparedness--that even if I can't read every scrap of useful information out there, I'll still know what to do for my little Theo when the time comes.

This is truly becoming a richer experience by the day, and I realize now how people can so easily forget about (or pony up for) morning sickness and all this other crap for second, third and fourth children. I'm still just focusing on this one, but...I'm just saying.

Aaaand I'm sobbing again. Some Youtube idiot did something adorable to the end of this song, and now my keyboard is all wet. At least I cry over good stuff sometimes.

Mother's Day

Frank is the SWEETEST! I woke up on Mother's day to this spread out on our dining room table:

For those of you who can't quite make out the crayon--here's a better look:

My first thought was--AWWWWW.
My second thought was--well at least we caught the dyslexia early.
My third thought was--dang--this must've happened while I was sleeping! Well done Frank...well done.

The day was beautiful and sunny--we went to church, and then made our way downtown to Canton Dockside for a half-dozen crabs on the deck! YAY!!

Fun fact: If you're pregnant, you can eat crab, just don't eat the mustard. If you don't know what "mustard" is, then you clearly aren't worried about eating Maryland crabs anyway.

What sunny Maryland afternoon is complete without some Ritas! That was our next, impromptu stop, as we listened to the Orioles struggle through a game (but eventually win!) on the radio. After-effects here:

He bleeds orange too--GO O's!

So we made it home, and I had to work on a special, secret project--results of which I can show you in about 3 months. While I did, Frank whipped up a special dinner "a la" when we first met--Scallops with this delicious homemade balsamic sauce, topped with corn and cherry tomatoes--my favorite Frankie dish! (I only got a picture of it after I ate most of it, and it didn't look great, so just use your imagination.)

It was really nice to be treated special on Mother's day. I can't really say I was expecting much, if anything until Frank tipped me off during the week, but I'm very thankful that he was thoughtful enough to do everything he did. By the way, here's my belly, starting to pop!

What I really think after almost five months of being pregnant, is that if you're making daily, hourly decisions based on the well-being of your child--guess what? No one else is doing that. And after your kid is born, what are you doing day in and day out, but the same exact thing? As soon as you start taking those conscious actions, you are a mother, and anyone who says differently has never been where you've been. If it counts outside your body, it should count double inside--you feed it, keep it warm, talk to it, hold it, and love it just as much, whether you're throwing up at four weeks, or happily holding your baby in your arms at fourty-four weeks. That's how moms work.

Fellas--buy your lady some flowers, and say you're sorry that you get to stay the same size. Tell her she's beautiful. Admit to being relieved you don't ever have to give birth. Kiss her belly and say hi to your kid. Thank her for farting in the other room. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, but since she's already a Mom, there's no reason you can't already be a Dad, and the three of you can't already be a family. You're so much more important than you realize to the equation, even now.

Happy Mother's Day.