Week 15

It's hard to believe that I'm 15 weeks into this process. Honestly, it seems just like yesterday I was looking down at the stick on my bathroom floor in disbelief. People say you feel the best in your second trimester. Now while I'm certainly relieved that most of my issues (see earlier blog entries) have resolved themselves, I'm still waiting for that fantastic feeling. More often than not, I'm at the cross roads of utter exhaustion and the I-just-took-too-much-Nyquil (no, I'm not taking Nyquil, it's one of the many banned substances) feeling.

This weekend was the ultimate test of Preggo Becky. It started on Friday night with the ultimate Baby Shower Shop-a-thon. Starbucks, Apple, Target, The Party Store, HEB and two Chili's (don't ask) later, Debs and I finally called it a night with the plans to get started on the decorating at 11am in the morning so we could sleep in. Ha...my body had other plans, and ridiculous times like 6:30am in mind.

So after an additional Starbucks (Hi my name is Becky and I have a problem - but at least its not caffeine!! I get smoothies!) run that thank goodness was inside a Target (yup, 2 days, 2 Target runs), we arrived at Preggo #1's house to setup. That means on Saturday I went strong from about 6:30am to 6:30pm before attempting to take a nap. Anyone that has ever been pregnant before knows that the odds of a pregnant functioning for 12 hours straight is roughly equivalent to the odds of said pregnant lady being able to walk past a Cinnabon without stopping.

That being said, the baby shower was awesome! I would have functioned even longer if need be. From the balloon art to the staircase decorated with onesies to all the cute clothes for the girls, it was an awesome day. The cake (oh the cake!) was amazing it was it probably due to the amount of sugar consumed as to why I was able to keep my eyes open.

I did manage to keep my eyes closed until 7:30 this morning, a treat in pregnancy land. I also topped off the afternoon with a 2 hour nap. Clearly week 15 is off to a roaring start...I will also point out, IN WRITING, that I did manage to fold ALL the clothes Thomas had piled up for me. Yes, he did help me put them up, but I folded them. Take that, husband. Documented evidence that I, the lazy preggo, did in fact accomplish something today, now out there for the world to see. :)

Good Genes

Two ultrasounds and two blood tests sound pretty benign. However, when they start explaining all the things that can go wrong, and that these tests can't even tell you for sure...you just get the odds of something being wrong (unless of course something is really, really wrong), you just get a little jumpy. I've got one more blood test to go, but so far everything looks great. I've seen two legs, two arms, a nose, and even lips. GB is now 3 inches long + legs. That's a long way from ultrasound #1 where GB was seriously the size of a gummi bear. Blood work doesn't show anything out of the ordinary, which is a damn good thing because I've "donated" at least 3 pints. I'm not sure how willing I am to give any more.

As I write this post, Thomas is currently sitting on the couch not understanding the "drama" of pregnancy as we watch commercials for "One Born Every Minute" (which I would NEVER go on). According to him, he's already participated in the action of creating life and now can check out since his role is complete while I continue on in the host-parasite relationship I have with GB. I love my parasite, but GB is taking all my energy, all my food (although I did have the stomach flu today, so I probably took some food away from GB) and I'm sure other things as well. Thomas is taking away my sanity...It's a good thing we find each other funny and he went on a powdered donut run last night...

Even with all the poking, prodding, belly scanning and so forth, we still don't know the sex of the baby, just that everything is looking good in the genes department. Half of mine and half of Thomas' have mixed together and everything is working like it is supposed to. I'll take that for now - we'll know for sure on March 8 leaving me plenty of time to pick paint colors and register for boy stuff or girl stuff.

I will say the last ultrasound was totally awesome and I'm so glad Debs was there to see it. We saw the heart beat, the ribs, spine, the blood going to the baby (although it was red and blue cartoon-ish looking), and all the other important bits. The funny part is to get GB to move, which GB really wasn't having (I wonder who GB got stubbornness from?), they bounce the ultrasound wand on your belly to agitate the baby. It's kind of funny to see the arms and legs go up in protest. I don't blame GB - I'd be pissed to if someone kept making my house shake.

Time for a Sprite...settle the stomach before bed.

Boys vs. Girls

I'm now to the point in this process where I'm often asked, "Do you know what you are having?" The answer is, "Not yet, but hopefully soon." This question is fine...it's the follow on question that trips me up: "Would you rather have a boy or a girl?" I know the stock answer is supposed to be "just a healthy baby", but I'm not sure that's entirely accurate. Sure, I want a healthy baby, you know, the kind with two arms, two legs, all the bits and pieces in place (and preferably the one that comes with an internal clock that matches my own), but if I sit and think about it, surely I have a preference...or do I? Let me lay me thoughts out for you.

Why I Want GB to be a Boy
1. Boys are cheaper than girls. (Just ask my dad)
2. My father has guaranteed that he will be all-state in baseball and will have a MLB contract by his junior year. (So I should start spending like the momma of a baseball superstar now, right?)
3. I won't have to be involved in the potty training. (I don't have the required equipment for a demonstration - there's now way I'm aiming at a cheerio)
4. He will have the most fantastic LEGO collection North America has ever seen. (Maybe I should rephrase that...Thomas will have a legitimate reason for amassing said LEGO collection)
5. The Green Bay Cheesehead hat that Thomas will have for the GB is totally a boy accessory.
6. I get to buy the Pottery Barn Kids Whale Bedding I love.

Why I Want GB to be a Girl
1. Pink Stuff (self-explanatory)
2. A solid guarantee that if I send the pretty, pretty princess in training to dad, she will get what she wants(and by she I mean me...no way he can say no once I teach her the sad, puppy dog face)
3. Girl clothes are just way more awesome than boy clothes, and this fact was on full display today at the baby shower. Tutus, bows, hats, frills, ruffles, fur coats, you name it...and its all pink (reference girl reason #1)!
4. Prom dress shopping, wedding dress shopping...well, just shopping in general.
5. She can become a member of Girl Scout Troop - NASA Education division.
6. Mother/daughter spa days!

Okay...so none of my reasons for wanting it one way or the other are truly legit. Truth is, I'm split down the middle. Some days I want a boy, some days a girl. All I will say, is that at least if we have a girl, I don't have to worry about Thomas sneaking the name Aloysius Sinclair Kamas on the birth certificate, nor does he have to worry about me changing it to Seamus Amos Kamas in retaliation. We'll just have to think of other ways to torture the child :)

Ode to 5:00 AM

My internal clock apparently has a new setting - 5:00am. This once unthinkable hour to be awake now approaches every morning, and I feel compelled to wake up and get out of bed. Okay...so the compelling feeling has more to do with the need to go to the bathroom and less to do with the actual hour, but still. In a previous lifetime, Saturday mornings didn't start until 10:00am at the earliest, and most of the time, didn't officially kick off until what can only be classified as Saturday afternoon. However, regardless of what time I drift off to sleep (or make a final nightly run to the bathroom), 5:00am rolls around and awake I become.

Now most of you are thinking this really isn't that big of a problem. You wake up, stumble into the bathroom, do your business, crawl back in bed, snuggle up, shut your eyes and catch a few winks before the damn alarm clock starts buzzing to signal the true time to get out of bed. Theoretically, this is what should happen. However, when you are pregnant, there are a few additional steps that must be added in there that prevent the immediate trip back to snoozeville from happening. First, if you are awake, it's practically mandatory that you eat something. Thanks to the animals, that means I can't just leave something on my nightstand (it would be gone!), I have to make a trip to the fridge. This means turning on lights, putting feet on the cold tile floor, etc., etc., etc. Once the snacking is complete, it is possible to return to bed, but finding that magic spot that is comfortable and allows you to sleep that you spent at least an hour finding when you initially went to bed...yup, you have to do it again. Let's just say I'm well aware of what's on TV between 5am and 6:45am when I get up to have breakfast (yup, time for food again).

Please don't think I'm complaining. It's fine, it's part of this process, I'd do it at 4am if that's what my body decided (and from what I'm told, it will at some point). It's just odd to feel like a stranger in my own body, and this jacked up internal clock is just one of the many things that no longer has a "Becky-ness" about it. I find it perplexing and absolutely fascinating at the same time. It's not exactly a hostile takeover, but I wouldn't call it friendly, either. What the GB is unaware of is that I have 18 years of revenge lined for these 9 months. Of course I'm kidding. I don't blame GB for my current state...I blame Thomas. :)

Off to snuggle the body pillow...

Joining the Club

I have officially been a card-carrying member of the preggo club for over 12 weeks now. Apparently, membership entitles you to a whole host of privileges including crying during the news (but really, I think that might not be just the pregnancy)and having allergic reactions to wedding bands. There are some perks - my fingernails have never been longer and if I took the time to fix my hair in the morning, it really is shiny and healthy. Although I'm in the club, I'm really just now starting to look pregnant instead of "squishy". I was a little squishy prior, but now the belly is starting to round out a little and look like a bump (and not a roll). This is a cool happening, but I've seen the bellies of my way more pregnant than me friends. I'm not sure I'm ready to lug all that nonsense around. It's seems like an awful big house for such a little guy or gal.

I've also apparently turned into a cover thief (note: this is second-hand information coming from Thomas and cannot be validated). I've been a pillow thief my entire life, but cover thief is a new profession. When the heater decided not to work last night, I apparently decided I needed the entire feather blanket, leaving Thomas shivering with just the sheet. He apparently has yet to come to the realization that for at least the near future, it is all about me, and then for the rest of his life it will be all about the Gummi Bear (GB). It will never, ever be about him again. He'll come to accept this eventually.

It's good to be surrounded by fellow club members. They make me laugh when they tell their stories and calm my fears when they tell me that certain tests or procedures aren't as bad as people make them out to be. I'm currently working with Debs to plan a rite of passage for a fellow preggo - the baby shower. Two times the babies means two times the stuff you need (sometimes 4 of 8 times). I'm so looking forward to this - you get to ooh and aah over all the cute little stuff (and also wonder what in the heck some of the equipment you get is for...). When it's time for me to have mine, I'm pretty sure we'll have to rent out a hall or perhaps a stadium. My mother and Thomas' mother will probably invite the entire eastern half of Bell County. I'm okay with that. It will be nice to see some of the folks from home again.

I'm not really a sentimental person, but the GB does have me a little misty eyed when I talk about childhood memories or look at old pictures. (Frank - seriously, get rid of the troll dolls and My Little Ponies...zero attachment there!) I'm extremely grateful that my parents are moving from the farm to the big old city to be near us and the GB. I grew up surrounded by family, and I can't imagine GB not having the same experience.

All right...enough sappy stuff. I do sarcasm much better.

Random Acts of Crazy

So, in what I'm deeming pregnancy-related "random acts of crazy", I've turned in to a raving lunatic. It's true. I yell (no, seriously, like usually at the top of my lungs) at anyone on the road that I believe is doing something stupid. And there is a whole list of things that make my stupid list: driving too fast, driving too slow, not using blinkers, cutting Debs off in the Whole Foods parking lot...stuff that I would normally chalk up to people just being Houston drivers, now has me screaming and, on some occasions, showcasing choice hand gestures. Yes, I'm a grown-up and I know better, but I'm telling you, it's not me doing this. The popular theory is that I'm recognizing it's not just about me anymore...that I'm realizing I have someone else to take care of, too. I like that theory. It makes me sound more sane than I actually feel.

Thomas does a fairly good impression of me pregnant, and it is pretty hilarious. Not that I'm giving him props or anything - I do provide a rather substantial amount of material for him to work with. Those who have heard it have been demanding a video post of it for the blog. I'll see what I can do. I promised to put it all out there on the blog, so this should be part of it. I will give you a sneak peek...in response to most of his questions pertaining to why I haven't done something (like, fold laundry or move from the couch in the last 6 hours), my response is "I'm busy creating life here...what have you been doing today?" Needless to say, he doesn't much care for that response, and has on more than one occasion (I have witnesses) told me (jokingly, I think) that all the tiredness and other pregnancy symptoms are mental and totally in my head, and therefore get my butt off the couch and fold laundry. (Note: I'm not bashing Thomas anymore than he is being mean to me. We love each other more than anything in the world, and both happen to have a wicked sense of humor.)

In all honesty, he really has been the best husband possible during this insane time. He looks at the 35 different Pottery Barn Kids nursery images with me, he makes runs for required food and drink at odd times of the day, and he suffers nightly beatings from my body pillow as I shift from side to side.

I'm a lucky girl...

Game On Pregnancy Symptoms

There are a few posts to read to catch up...I'm late in the game to distribute the URL to the blog, so you may want to start with the first and catch up to this one.

As the morning sickness exits stage left, there are a whole host of new symptoms waiting in the wings to take its place. I have no modesty - I'll put it all out there warts and all -(1) I've got constipation like nobody's business, (2) a UTI, (3) heartburn that likes to kick in around 2am, and (4) an aversion to my favorite cookies and cream ice cream. I think the last one might be the worst.

So what does all this mean? Well, (1) prune juice and what I call "wheatabix" gross Metamucil fiber crackers, (2) medicine and Day-Glo orange pee, (3) no sleeping from 2am-3am, and (4)one pissed off preggo that however is slightly relieved to discover ice cream sandwiches are an acceptable substitute.

I've also reached my low point. My "skinnier Becky" pants will not zip and (hang head low), most of my "fat Becky" pants won't either. I've worn maternity pants to work this week. Let's just say they don't do much for my flat ass (not that any pants do), nor do they make me feel like less of a fat blob. It's also extremely important to wear long shirts to cover up the oh-so-sexy belly panel.

Work continues, even though there is almost a constant need for a break, whether it is to grab my 10am (or 11am, or 12pm, or 1pm...) snack or to take a much needed "rest" since napping is not in the cards. The best news is that I work in an office full of mommies, so I get lots of great advice and they all answer my (often) ridiculous questions and help ease my (never unfounded) fears. Plus, my "office mom" is trying to make sure I eat good-for-me things, and not the good tasting things. Note: Good-for-you and good tasting rarely intersect, at least not in preggo world.

And the journey continues...

The Gummi Bear

No, I did not spell "gummi" wrong - that's the German spelling and the way everyone in my family pronounces it (goo-me, not gum-me) with the exception of Thomas. Plus, that's what we are currently calling BK (Baby Kamas). As you can see from the sonogram picture, it's a pretty accurate description.

Today officially wraps up week 10 (okay, the day I started writing this post wrapped up week 10) and Thomas keeps reminding me I'm a quarter done. (P.S. Kamas - this does not help!!) The good news is I think I'm over the morning sickness, the bad news is I've now seen a book that thoughtfully depicts a circle with a 10cm diameter. Holy shnikes...I did not need that visual!

In other delightful happenings, I went and purchased maternity pants. It won't be long until my pants don't zip. This is where I get a little frustrated...remember the whole healthy weight loss business? Freaking out the window...+7lbs as of this morning. I was doing pretty well dropping poundage and then this "bump" in the road. Oh, well...it is a happy bump even if it will cost me the sight of my feet for a few months.

I rang in the New Year snoozing in bed with preggo #1 Jessica (like we were really going to make it to midnight) while the boys rang it in with darts and a few bottles of who knows what. Even with napping, I still can't usually keep my eyes open past 10pm. So much for partying like its 2011.

Back to work tomorrow...time to go pack my snacks!