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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
| Yesterday I talked with my father-in-law for a few minutes where we discussed (I know it will surprise you) my pregnancy. He said, “Better get all your writing in now, because once the baby’s born, you won’t have the time - or the energy.” I laughed and said, “I haven’t written much since I found out I was pregnant. The baby had sucked all the intelligence right out of me!” That was then, this is now. It’s true I haven’t written much aside from my entries for over two months now, but in the last few days, my desire to write has increased. So has my brain power. I don’t feel as stupid anyway. Whether or not I still am can be debated, I’m sure. I told Dave last night how much I enjoy being pregnant. He said, “You’ve reached that stage of euphoria I take it.” He’s been reading all the pregnancy books and magazines - way more than I have - so I guess this sense of joy is normal. Funny how much of what we feel depends upon the chemicals in our brain. Kinda sad in a way, too, though. I’d like to think I feel things because of my spirit or soul, not the chemical interaction in my mind. It takes the mystery out of what makes me who I am, as if I have less control over my life and how I react to it than I think. But that’s a discussion for another time. I don’t have that much brainpower! You are welcome to give me your thoughts on brain chemicals vs free will, though. Back to writing: A few months ago, I joined a reviewing group assembled by Elisa: Middle Aged Stik 
Elisa: Middle Aged Stik then requested nominations for editors of the newsletter. PastVoices  kindly nominated me. With few nominations apparently, I got the gig along with Arwee and Pen Name . I’ve written two newsletters so far. The responses have been positive, more positive than I deserve. The last one I didn’t come up with a subject until the afternoon it was due, and spent maybe two hours writing it.I am the queen of procrastination, I tell ya! The group and newsletters are doing fairly well, but it needs more participation and readers. If you like to review, have advice to share, or need motivation to review more, I suggest you give the group a try. You can also read all the newsletters written so far at:
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| The other day, my mom said she wanted to take me maternity clothes shopping. She thinks I should have at least two really nice outfits for going out, or for work. We haven't done it yet, but I thought it was very sweet of her. She then apologized for not being able to afford to buy me a car like Tom could. Believe it or not, I was not stunned by the comment. Her mother's way of showing affection was through material goods. Growing up in a materialistic home, she then automatically assumes that's how others expect to be shown affection. I said, "Don't worry about it. I don't need two cars!" More serious I added, "Besides, I don't count dollar signs. To me generosity is generosity. I don't care how much anyone spends on me." One of the kindest gifts I received came in yesterday from PastVoices . She bought me a maternity pillow that I can use when my tummy or hips need the extra support, and it doubles as a breast-feeding pillow.It's no Jeep, but it was still enough to bring me to tears of gratitude. She not only took money out of her wallet, and spent valuable time sending it, but she thought of me and considered my comfort and well-being. To me the best gift is to be thought of. Because of Tom, Mom, PastVoices , and every one of you who have sent me your thoughts, advice, and prayers both during my pregnancy, and when life threw me for a loop, I am rich indeed. No amount of dollars can match it, nor would I trade it for anything of this earth.I can never thank you enough  . |
| I got my new car! After two days of looking and test-driving I decided on a metallic-gray ‘04 Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s in excellent shape with only 39k miles. Although, already it needs a bath. On the way home from my folks' Saturday night, I drove through a swarm of bugs so thick, it sounded like rain. My parents live off of a dirt road with horrible washerboards. I’ve discovered the faster you drive over them, the less they make the car jump and fish-tail. I drove over them in my new Jeep at about 30 mph, and Dave said, “Hey, they fixed the washerboards!” I giggled and said, “Nope. It’s just the suspension on this is better than what we’re used to.” I had to laugh at my parents, though (nothing new there, hee, hee). Tom had a drink in his hand when I invited him to take a ride in his new investment, and Mom said, “Don’t take that! You might spill it!” I laughed and said, “I don’t care. After all, soon I’m gonna have a kid in here, and kids aren’t exactly clean freaks. Besides, cars are washable.” What surprises me is how much I enjoy driving it. I said to Ellen, my co-worker a few minutes ago, “Where should I drive to for lunch today?” I love my Wrangler, and will miss it, but the Cherokee is a fun ride, though in a different way. It’s comfortable, and smooth. I’ve also put the air conditioner through it’s paces, because the last three days have been 100+ and high humidity. Blech. We haven’t sold the Wrangler yet. The gal at Dave’s work couldn’t come up with the funds. It’s now at the shop, because it’s not starting very well (a problem I’ve had before, but it’s easy to fix, and not too expensive). The air conditioner belt also needs tightened or replaced, because if it’s on when we start it up, it screeches pretty loud. If’n you’re interested in a 1997 black Jeep Wrangler Sport with 70k miles, new hard top, half-doors w/ sliding glass windows, A/C, new tires, and manual transmission for $7,500, let me know! I got pictures! The only trouble with it is it’s a salvage, and some finance agencies won’t lend money on a salvaged vehicle, even if there’s nothing structurally wrong with it. In fact, Dave and I both wondered why the previous owner’s insurance agency totaled it. It had less than $2500 damage, and for a $12,000 vehicle (at the time), that’s nothing. Okay, ‘nuf car talk. Tuesday was our last Disciple meeting. We had our last lesson, a question and answer session with our pastor that came up during our lessons, and communion. I giggled (must be my thing. I’m sure giggling a lot) during the prayer, because Kevin, our class facilitator said, “I pray for Andra and her son . . .” At the end I asked him, “What makes you think I’m going to have a son?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t say ‘son’, did I?” We all said, “You sure did!” He grinned and said, “If you have a boy, you’ll have to call me.” I giggled (again!) and said, “Actually, when I think of the baby, I think it’s a he, so I bet that’s what I’ll have.” Many have asked me if I prefer a boy or a girl. Yes, I’m leaning toward boy, but that doesn’t mean I prefer a boy. I would also love a girl, albeit for different reasons. Each have their unique joys. Besides, it’s not like I have a choice! Come 5 weeks at my September checkup, they’ll do an ultrasound to make sure it has all the right parts, including it’s sex. Dave and I decided to be told then what it is. My next visit, a week from today, they’ll do the blood tests checking for Down’s and Cystic Fibrosis. Dave wants the tests more than I do. I honestly don’t need them, because no matter the results, it changes nothing. I certainly won’t terminate the pregnancy. It’s not my call to make, but God’s. Like I told my mom, I will take whatever child God chooses to give me. Dave feels the same way, but he wants to know in order to mentally prepare, and plan ahead as far as setting up the house, finances, and insurance (if at all possible). I have decided against amniocentesis, though. It’s too invasive for my tastes. Then again, I might change my mind if the blood tests reveal a problem. The blood tests can produce false positives that the amniocentesis can determine more for certain. Still, I’ve heard stories where amniocentesis have also shown a problem, yet the baby was born completely healthy. Some things I’m willing to let God take care of, and the health of the baby is a big one. It’s something I have little control over, so there’s no sense in worrying about it. I admit I look forward to my monthly checkups. I can’t remember a single time in my life when I looked forward to going to the doctor. It has also made time crawl by, I get so eager for them. At each visit, I learn more about what and how the baby is doing. Plus, at each one (so far), the doctor and nurses have said everything is looking perfect, and that gives me great peace of mind. As for how I’m feeling? Fat! My pants are tightening, and some days I feel as though the earth’s gravity has increased. I don’t think I’ve gained more than five or six pounds since my last visit, but my leg bones at least are feeling the difference now. My tummy feels like I swallowed an eggplant. I say eggplant, because the right side is larger than the left. I can’t tell by sight, but I can sure feel the difference. I still poke around for movement, but nothing overt so far. I feel the occasional flutter, but I’m not certain it’s the baby or gas (got lots of that!). I like to think it’s the baby, though. And hiccups! Do I get the hiccups! They don’t last long, thankfully, only two or three at a time, but I get them at least six times a day. I’ve also had to take my wedding ring off at night, because in the morning my fingers feel, and look, like sausages. Usually within a few hours the swelling goes down, though. Darn it! I forgot to put it back on this morning, so I’m feeling a bit naked. My energy levels have stayed about the same; I still want to take a nap every afternoon between 2 and 3pm, and my mood is swinging more lately. Oh, yippee. I’ve been able to keep it under control, but who knows how much longer that will last? I’ve warned everyone to expect little temper tantrums as things progress, so I’m sure they’ll understand if I snap at them once in a while. I've been able to visit only a few of you, but I promise in the next few days to catch up on those of you I've missed. Have a loverly Thursday! |
| But it ain’t braggin’ if it’s true, now is it? Nor is pride always a bad thing. Taking pride in our accomplishments - in moderation - can also be a good thing, because it increases our confidence. I admit ambivalence when I started my signature shop, "Invalid Item"  . Creating graphics based on what an individual wants, and not something pre-made, is scary. I simply had no idea if I could accomplish the task. My graphic and artistic abilities simply aren’t that great. So far I’ve been able to make my customers happy. In fact, I finished one the other day I’m particularly pleased with:  I couldn’t meet all of likenion's requests, but in the end he was happy with the results. It also shows why I love Corel Draw, and drawing vector graphics verses raster. In case you don’t know, vector drawings are based on lines and objects. No matter how close you zoom in on it, the drawing remains sharp. Cad (computer aided drafting) is another example of vector drawing. Raster drawings are based on dots, so the closer you zoom in, the fuzzier it gets, and you end up looking at a bunch of different colored squares or dots. Vector graphics are easy in that each object is individual. Any element can be moved, resized and colored without effecting any other object. For instance, the above consisted of the four corners, the background, the text, the cougar, and the wings. I can also move certain objects above or behind others. I started with a brown cougar from my clipart collection, changing the colors to black and gray (each color is an individual element, which made it easy to change the hues). I cut the wings off of an owl graphic (is that cruel?). Each feather was an individual object, making it easy to change the colors. The corners were also from my clipart collection, though I did change the colors of those as well. The background and text were the only elements I created from scratch. Once finished, I had to save it as a jpeg, but that’s easy. Corel Draw allows me to convert in almost any graphic format. If I need to make any changes, all I have to do is change the original vector drawing, and convert it again to a jpeg, or whatever format I need. I think that’s why more artists are using computer paint/drawing programs, because fixing a mistake or making a modification, no matter how small or large, is easily accomplished. If you want to see more graphics I’ve created I invite you to check out my gallery: "Invalid Item" Strange, though I’m not writing much aside from here, I can create graphics with little difficulty. Besides my signature shop, I create some of the graphics and graduation certificates for "Invalid Item" . Good thing. It helps to know my brain isn’t so mushy it’ll start leaking out of my ears soon. |
| I made a huge mistake. Even in my brain’s current sluggish state I knew better. I should have kept my mouth shut, but noooo, I spilt the news. I told my parents Dave and I needed to replace my Jeep Wrangler with something more family friendly. Now Tom has wrangled me into allowing him to buy me my new car. Dang him. Seriously, I didn’t want him to. It’s a matter of pride, I admit. After all I’ve lived on my own for almost 20 years, I think I can take care of myself now. At the same time, he wants to do this. It gives him a measure of joy to be able to be generous to his daughters. He gave my sister some money to help purchase her house, so it’s only fair he help with my new car. I made him a deal, though. He could buy the car if he lets me trade in the Jeep. Saturday he and I went to check out vehicles. I made another boo-boo there by not bringing any water with me. It was hot, and after three hours in the 90+ heat I soon got a massive headache. When we returned home, I drank two huge glasses of water. Another boo-boo. A few hours later, the water I drank wanted out – and I mean out right now! I realized then I didn’t merely get a little dehydrated, but had a slight case of heat-stroke. Yippee. Having a worse case of it as a teenager, I knew then the only thing I could do was sleep it off. No supper for me. I was bummed, too. I made fajitas, one of my favorite meals. Monday, it was Dave’s turn to make a mistake. He may have sold my Jeep to a fellow employee. When another employee found out we’re selling it, he also expressed his desire to buy it. Why is that a mistake? I know Tom. He won’t accept the resulting check from the sale to add to the purchase of my new one. He’ll tell me to save it for the baby. Grrrr. Part of this is tongue-in-cheek. I truly am grateful for Tom’s generosity, and it’s quite possible I’ll need the cash in the future. Having been poor enough I lived on Raman noodles and didn’t know how I would make my rent more than once, I don’t want to go through that again. Having a bit of a cushion from a car sale gives me an extra measure of peace. Plus, I can use the money to start a college fund. Considering how much we’re getting for it, I’m glad I bought the Wrangler. They hold their value better than most. Around here, no one can keep them on a car lot. When Dave looked around yesterday, he saw only two for sale. Test driving a few cars last night (made sure I had plenty of water this time), I decided on a 2004 Jeep Cherokee. It’s the perfect size, rides and drives real nice, and the price is reasonable. However, in cleaning up my Jeep to show off to the potential buyer, both Dave and I no longer wanted to sell it. It looks sharp! I will miss it, too. It’s one fun vehicle to drive. Oh well. Baby comes first. Speaking of Baby, I got a few minor updates. I’m starting to show enough, people are noticing. I realized it’s the only time in a woman’s life where a protruding tummy is something to brag about. I also have no more queasiness. However, when I get hungry, it’s a feed me now feeling. I also can’t stuff myself silly anymore. When I’m full, my tummy let’s me know it won’t take another bite. Good thing, or I’d be protruding in other areas besides my stomach. I still get tired easy, and my brain is mush, but other than that I feel pretty good. In a word, I’m content. At night when I go to bed, and again in the morning before I get up, I poke around to see if I’ve grown more, and to feel for any movement. At 14 weeks, I shouldn’t expect any, but still, it’s fun to try. |
| Don’t got much to say today. My brain is in full hibernation mode at the moment. It’s to the point I so want to go home and take a nap! Even a cup of tea hasn’t made a dent. I mostly wanted to add my new siggy. Ain’t it grand? sultry gave it to me yesterday. Good thing, too. I’ve been seeing her other signatures around, and I admit to a little envy not having one made by her. Then again, I could have asked for one, huh? I want to show you something else:  That’s my first photo of Little Kidney Bean. Now you see how I came up with the name. Don’t worry, by the time it’s born, it’ll have a real name. In fact, it’s hardly a kidney bean now anyway as it has all its fingers and toes, and is over 3 inches long. What impresses me most about it is not the little blob, but the text in the lower right. I have a question for you Moms out there (Dads can answer, too, if the question ever arose whilst your children were still in the womb). At what point during your pregnancy did you realize an independent human being grew inside you? Have a Lucky Friday the 13th! |
| I had planned on writing an entry tomorrow, a rather serious one, but I received a few comments in my last entry I simply must share right now. windac started it with: As for belly rubbing, everyone except those closest to you should ASK! But, just wait until you feel that first kick... you might, might want to share it. Then again, maybe not. But start thinking now about what you'll do, just in case. Maybe a t-shirt to wear with a rather graphic warning might do the trick.  sweett liked the idea and came up with one: Do you want to see the other end of your arm? Then keep it to yourself. Thank you, have a nice day. Loving the idea as well, I thought of one: Rubbing this belly without permission may result in -- ever see the movie "Alien"? I bet I'm not the only pregnant woman who doesn't like uninvited belly rubs, and if I were to come up with other really good sayings, these t-shirts would sell. So set your imagination afire and give me your best (or worst) ideas on other No Belly Rubs Allowed t-shirts! |
| A while back Dave saw a brochure on the break room message board. It said if an employee or family member is pregnant, they can call a number and request a free package of stuff. It came a few weeks later containing a small diaper bag, bib (too small for me, darn it), a rubber ducky that changes color if the bath water is too hot (did Rufus want that ducky! It’s now hidden away so she can’t find it), and the books “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, and “What to Expect the First Year”. I looked at the first one a few days before on Amazon, but didn’t buy it. I admit to being a bit ambivalent, because the people who reviewed it either loved it or hated it. The ones that loved it said it helped them understand what their body was doing, and eased any fears and anxieties. Others had the opposite reaction. Instead of easing their minds, the book made them near neurotic with fears of all the things that could go wrong. I figured after reading all the reviews the soon-to-be parents have to consider the kind of people they are before buying the book. If they tend to be high-strung and focus on the worst that can happen in most circumstances, they should stay away from that book. If they tend more towards optimism, or appreciate the variety of answers, no matter how frightening, given for most any symptom during pregnancy, then “What to Expect . . .” is the right book for them. I found out I tend toward the latter. When I had a certain kind of pain or symptom, I read that portion of the book, and ended up more relaxed. Same with after my last scare on Friday. It gave several reasons why I would bleed, and the ones that applied to my circumstance were not serious, and were actually quite common. Aside: I had to laugh at myself this morning. One thing I kept looking for after that last episode is any reduction in my other symptoms, such as sore breasts and queasiness. When I gagged this morning after taking a shower, I giggled, even more convinced everything is still going well. That’s the first time I was truly thrilled I wanted to puke. I’m also not reading the book cover-to-cover. It’s set up more like an encyclopedia. I think reading the entire thing would be a mistake for anyone, especially while pregnant. The book highlights so many disorders, diseases, possible difficulties that could lead to miscarriage, to read them all would drive even the most optimistic person into an emotional tailspin. The book has other, less serious sections such as ways to treat the inevitable, unsolicited advice. Have I received some doozies! Some have been good, most of it repetitions from what others, including my doctor, have said, but the rest is so outlandish I take it for less than a grain of salt. I should write them down, they’re so funny. All the advice doesn’t bother me. They give it to me because they mean well, and only want to help. Most of the time, even for the sage advice, I smile, nod, say thank you and leave it at that. I am not looking forward to people coming up and rubbing my belly uninvited when I start to show more, though. I like my personal space enough, they will likely walk away with crooked and throbbing fingers. I honestly never understood the allure of a pregnant belly anyway. Maybe it’s because I don’t like my personal space violated, I don’t want to violate others'. I consider it rude. However, when it comes to rubbing my own belly . . .  . |
| Yesterday I went to my monthly checkup. I was both eager and anxious for this one, because they were going to look for the baby’s heartbeat. The nurse came in and had me lay on the table, and pull my pants down some (I was smart enough to wear elastic-waisted pants). She squirted cold slimy goo on my lower abdomen and moved the listening device around my lower abdomen. I heard my heartbeat, static, and perhaps even some gut gurgles. No fetal heartbeat. After a few minutes she put the doppler listening device away and said, “I’ll see if we can sneak you into Ultrasound and find the heartbeat that way.” “For what reasons can’t you find the heartbeat?” I asked. “It could be a lot of reasons. The baby could be very active. And since the uterus is still small, the baby could be hiding behind your pelvic bone.” After a pause she added, “And of course there are other, more serious reasons we can’t find it. But the ultrasound will determine that.” She wiped away all the goo from my tummy and said, “I’ll check on ultrasound and be back in a few minutes.” I sat next to Dave and said, “You know, I’m not surprised they didn’t find it.” “How come?” “I don’t know. I just had a feeling they wouldn’t find it. I felt that way ever since my last appointment when they said they were going to do this. I’m not worried something’s wrong, though.” Sure, I had a twinge of fear at first; it’s a normal reaction to consider the worst possibilities. But the little voice inside me assured me I need not fret. A few minutes later the nurse came back in and took me to Ultrasound. The technician was efficient - too much so. I had a slew of questions, but didn’t have the time to ask them. After spreading more goo on me, she found the baby in less than ten seconds. There was a television in front of me so I could see. After finding a little kidney-shaped blob, she took some kind of measurement, and said, “You’re baby’s heartbeat is 150 beats-per-minute, which is normal.” She then handed me a printout of the screen showing Little Kidney Bean, and down in the lower right corner it said: “Fetal HB 150 bpm.” The tech then wiped the goo away and ushered me out of the room. Not the best bed-side manner, but we have the results we wanted, and in the end that’s all that matters. It was the first time I allowed myself enough excitement I was willing to tell everyone. In fact, I couldn’t wait to share the news now. I went back to work, and when both my bosses were in the office at the same time (a rare event), I told Harvey, “Do you have a few minutes?” “Sure.” “I need to chat at you and Ron.” He gave me a quizzical look and said, “Okay.” “I’ll get Ron, and meet you in your office.” I went to Ron’s office and said the same thing. His reaction was more overt. His eyes got huge and he looked suddenly scared. When we got to Harvey’s office, Harvey asked, “Do you want the door closed?” “No need,” I said. They sat and waited. I took a deep breath and said, “Do you remember two years ago when Dave had that surgery?” They both nodded. “He went in for a vasectomy reversal, and, well, it was successful.” Pause. “I am now about three months pregnant.” Stunned silence for a few seconds then they congratulated me. I told them my due date and said I wanted to take at least two months off. Harvey grinned and said, “Well, you picked a perfect time to get pregnant.” It’s our slowest time of the year, so I understood his comment and laughed. Ron laughed, too, and said, “I bet you thought of us, and made sure you’d have the baby then.” I grinned. “Of course.” Ron, ever the single-minded one said, “Just because you’ll be gone doesn’t mean if we need you, you can’t come in and work for a few hours, does it?” “Well, I’ll be happy to work from home, but I can’t promise to be able to work for a few hours with no notice. There’s no guarantee I will be awake, plus finding a babysitter in such a short time will be difficult.” After we chatted a few minutes more about it, I left, and had to share the news with most everyone else in the office. They were pretty excited. Now, I bet you’re wondering why I would tell my co-workers before my own mother. Well, that’s because my step dad, Tom, was still out of town, and it only seemed right I should tell them together. As luck would have it, Tom did get home yesterday, and invited us over for a little bit. I was almost as nervous telling my mom as I was telling my bosses. On the drive to their house, I went through a dozen scenarios as to how I would break the news. We all sat at the dining room table, and at a break in the conversation, I looked at my mom and said, “I got a gift for you.” She looked at me funny. “But you can’t open it for six months.” “Then why mention it?” I didn’t answer the question, instead dug into my purse and said, “But you get to take a peek at it.” “Why six months?” she asked as I handed over the ultrasound picture. “Is it going to hatch?” “Yep.” After letting her look at Little Kidney Bean for a second I said, “I’m three months pregnant.” She dropped the picture and stood with her arms out to me. She was crying before we hugged. She couldn’t say anything, and neither could I for a minute. I can’t watch people cry, because it always me want to cry, too. Even Tom’s eyes got misty. When I found my voice I whispered, “You’ve been waiting for this for a long time, haven’t you?” She could only nod in my shoulder. We talked about it more for the next few hours, got lots of advice (no shock there), and lots of questions as to names, if I was going to breast feed, use cloth or disposable diapers, etc, etc. I noticed at one point her staring at the picture with this stunned expression. “Do you want to keep that?” I asked. “Yes.” I giggled. “You can have it.” “I’d like a copy of it if I could,” Dave said. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I scanned it in at work, so I can make lots of copies.” I would add it here for you now, but I can’t. I didn’t go to work today. It seems God figured I hadn’t had really good scare in a while. When I went to the bathroom this morning, I noticed blood when I wiped. I’m sure you can guess my reaction. Out of the many incoherent thoughts rife with panicked emotions, and likely one of the more fervent prayers I’ve ever uttered, one thought came through clear: “Why now, the day after I tell my mom and everyone at work? That’s simply not right.” Irony at it’s worst. I called work first to tell them I wouldn’t be in, then called Dave and told him what happened. He asked what I wanted to do and I said, “Come home. You may need to take me to the doctor, but I’ll make a few phone calls first.” The doctor’s office didn’t open for another hour and a half, so I tried the number for the OB-GYN nurse practitioner on call. The receptionist told me there wasn’t one on duty (lovely), but I could call in a half an hour when the clinic opened. Dave came in not ten minutes later. He looked as frightened as I felt. He asked me what I wanted to do, and showed him the booklet the doctor gave us at our first consultation listing all the numbers we could call. “Did you try the Labor and Delivery number?” he asked. “No.” I dialed the number and told the lady on the other end, “I’m three months pregnant and woke up with some bleeding. I’d like to know the best plan of action.” She asked me about the blood and after I told her she said, “It sounds like old blood. Go ahead and put on a pad and give it a day. If it doesn’t subside, then we’ll have you come in.” “So there’s no reason to be worried at this point?” “No. If the blood were light in color or heavy, and you had pain, then that would be a problem.” That was about three hours ago, and the bleeding has almost stopped. I called work again and told Wendy all that happened. She also didn’t seem all that concerned, so that perked me up some. Having three kids of her own, and experienced something similar, she knew right away it’s nothing serious. Still, though I’m physically capable of working, emotionally, not a chance. Instead, I’m writing this entry, and will try to catch up with the rest of you. To end on a more positive note, that still small voice has not changed it’s tune. Once I calmed down and listened, I knew even as I prayed that this was a mere bump in the road, and the baby is fine. After all, Little Kidney Bean has a heartbeat! |
| One way to increase your blog views: Don't write an entry for a week. Yep, I’ve noticed some people come back again and again to check for updates, find none, but the view still counts. Thanks! (hee, hee). For the last two months, I’ve had the usual symptoms of pregnancy: Morning sickness: Still not gone, darn it, but it hasn’t worsened. Saltines help, but to make them a little more edible, I slather peanut butter on them. I think after this I will never want to touch a saltine or eat peanut butter again. Headaches: Whether sinus, lack of caffeine, stress, or all the above, hardly a day goes by I don’t have one. Fatigue: I wonder if my muscles and bones will atrophy away soon from laying down so much. I managed to walk to and from work yesterday without collapsing halfway in a fit of snores. Prego-brain (or mental hibernation): My super-fun symptom! Being mentally unaware of most things can result in some funny behavior. Last week I filled out my time sheets, and I could have sworn it was July! It took me two days to realize it was still June. Moodiness: It’s not bad, but I made Hubby feel really bad the other night. I told him I was going to bed, and not 10 minutes later, he decides to set off firecrackers right below the bedroom window. Let’s just say I wasn’t diplomatic when I ran downstairs and ordered him to stop. Flip-flopped appetite: Case in point. My hubby two days ago spent almost two hours cooking a casserole with potatoes, fresh walleye, cheese and cabbage; normally a yummy dish for me. One bite and my tummy clenched as if to say: “Oh, no, you are not putting that in here!” I felt so bad when I told Dave I couldn’t eat it. I instead slurped down a cup of peach yogurt, because nothing else sounded remotely appetizing. Still, up until last night, they’ve been mere symptoms. I went to bed and laying on my back I placed my hand on my tummy. I then felt it: not the baby, but a hardness an inch below my belly button and about the size of a large orange. I poked around in wonder at how much my uterus had expanded in such a short time - it seems like only a day. For a while I wondered if the doctor would find the heartbeat at my next appointment, because for so long I felt no physical changes. Now I don’t think it will be a problem. I called Dave and had him poke around my tummy a few minutes later. He felt it, too, and thought that was pretty neat. At that moment I knew I had a baby growing inside me. That might sound a little strange considering I’ve known since mid-May. But just as seeing is believing at times, so is touching something that makes it seem more real. Oh, I decided a month or so ago I need to trade in my Jeep Wrangler for something more “family friendly.” While I have plenty of room, it’s not designed to get into the back easily, especially trying to secure a wiggly child in a car seat. I realized that after watching my sister-in-law struggle to get her two-year-old son in his car seat when they visited last fall. Dave’s truck is no better since it has no back seat. I figured I had plenty of time to decide, but after last night, I realized I need to look for a different car within the next two months. Pretty soon I won’t be able to tie my shoes let alone step up into my Jeep without trouble. |
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