26 weeks

I don't know if the third trimester starts at 26 or 27 weeks, but whatever the case, I am almost there. I am 26 weeks pregnant today.



I don't really have a lot to report this week. But here are a few things:

1) I felt Charlie kick me in the rib area while we were in San Francisco. He's done that before, but only when I was lying down. This time I was sitting upright. It was pretty cool. It means that he's getting big. So big, in fact, that he kicked me so hard this morning while I was driving to work that it scared me a bit (because I wasn't expecting it). Crazy kid!

2) I did my one-hour glucose tolerance test yesterday. Basically you fast for a few hours, come in to the lab, "enjoy" a very sweet drink, and have a blood draw after an hour to see what your blood sugar level is like. If you don't pass, you do a three-hour glucose tolerance test. If you do pass, you are officially in the clear - no gestational diabetes.

And I passed. Hooray!

3) More and more strangers are commenting on my pregnancy. I saw a woman in a parking lot yesterday who gleefully said hi to me and then said happily, "You're pregnant!" It made me smile.

4) A security person at the airport asked me if I was having a boy because I'm carrying really low (according to her). It's fascinating to me how some people can just tell.

5) I've been buying things. Again. I got some nursing bras, some diapers (cloth, of course), and our convertible car seat. (I might have also gotten another diaper bag, but I will neither confirm nor deny that right now.) I got pretty good deals on everything. I have yet to pay full price on stuff for this kid. (Yes, there's still plenty of stuff left on our registries.)

6) I'm feeling a lot more pressure and general weirdness in my nether regions. I think the fact that I'm carrying low has much to do with that.

7) Charlie stole my brain. It's gone. I left the freezer open when I left the house this morning. I have emailed several people the wrong documents. I forget to pay bills. It's sad, really.

And that's pretty much all I've got for this week. I have some babymoon recapping to do, which I meant to start on a few days ago. But things have been crazy. I'll hopefully have something up by the end of the weekend.

100 Days

Today marks 100 days until my due date on May 29.

I very clearly remember when I reached the "100 days until my wedding" point - after that, time absolutely screamed by at the speed of light, and the next thing I knew, I was an old married hag. It's like I blinked and was married.

I know it's going to be the same way with having a baby. And just as it was when I was planning my wedding, my list of things to do is long. There are some big decisions that remain to be made (such as choosing a pediatrician, examining the pros and cons of circumcision, and figuring out what kind of childcare we're going to need). There are childbirth and breastfeeding classes to attend. There are books that remain to be read. There's a birth plan to write, a room to be painted and fixed up, showers to attend, and babyproofing to be done. Oh, and I'm also supposed to continue to work full time, work towards finishing my MA, and do things like eat, sleep, and breathe.

I have a million emotions about entering this last phase of my pregnancy. One of them is disbelief - I still cannot believe that we will have a baby at the end of this. Even though I know he's in there, sometimes it still just doesn't feel real to me. Can this really be happening to me? After almost thirty years of living and learning, can it be that I'm really going to be a mother? I have a really hard time wrapping my mind around this sometimes.

Things are going to change forever in 100 days, give or take a few. Things just won't be the same. And I'm okay with it. And I'm scared about that. But no matter what gets done and what's left undone, we're doing this.

We're having a baby.

25 weeks

Today I am 25 weeks pregnant.

Earlier this week I was on the "how big is baby?" page, and I noticed that I am kind of dangerously close to the bottom of it. I still have a few months to go, but I kind of never thought I would get here - to the eggplant stage.



Yep, Charlie weighs over a pound now and is also over a foot long. He'll stay in the eggplant stage for awhile until he becomes a nice big squash.

Here I am this week:



I've decided that red is not my best pregnant color. I normally look awesome in red, but it makes me look like a big ol' blimp these days.

Here's a naked belly shot:



(The mirror was smudged. No stretch marks yet, just veins.)

My belly has started getting in my way. I can no longer do certain things normally; it takes more effort, and I find myself grunting. (Side note: I used to call myself a "grunting cavewoman with acne" back when I was in the first trimester, and it appears I'll be revisiting that very pleasant side of pregnancy once again - sans acne, hopefully.) This is probably the beginning of the uncomfortable stage.

And that makes sense considering that HOLY CRAP, I AM ALMOST IN THE THIRD TRIMESTER.

The third trimester scares me. Being huge and uncomfortable just doesn't appeal to me. I don't want to waddle. I don't want to swell. I don't want to deal with insomnia any more than I have this entire pregnancy. But it looks like that's what these last few months hold for me.

And then there's the giving birth part. I've actually never really been scared to give birth. I know women have done it since the dawn of the human race, and so I can do it, too. I'm not scared of the pain (yet), but give me some time - I might get there.

What am I scared of? Oh, how about parenting? I am scared to death of it. I'm scared of breastfeeding. I'm scared of changing diapers. I'm scared of baby vomit. I'm scared of having to make decisions about things like circumcision, vaccinations, childcare, etc. It all just freaks me out, man.

But you know what I feel the most?

Love. I already love him so much. Feeling his kicks, hearing his heartbeat, watching him make my tummy move - he is so undeniably a part of me, and since his very beginning back in September, he's been preparing to make his entrance into the world. This means that right when I give birth to him, I'll be letting go of him - not a lot, just a tiny bit.

Pregnancy has been one huge lesson in letting go. I've had to let go of my pre-pregnancy body (and I wish I would have been better about embracing its imperfections). I've had to let go of the notion that I can do everything and be the same person I was before I got pregnant - physically, mentally, and emotionally, it just isn't possible. And I've had to let go of the nagging "what if" voice that lives in the back of my mind - What if he's not healthy? What if I miscarry? What if I have post-partum depression? What if this? What if that? (The "what if" voice can never be completely silenced. I still deal with it every day. But I have learned not to let it control me.)

I guess it's only appropriate that I learn how to let go now, because as soon as he is born, the time will start flying, and next thing I'll know, he'll be laughing, crawling, eating solids, walking, going to kindergarden, graduating from high school, getting married... And I won't be able to keep him safe. It's not like I can even really keep him safe now. I mean, I do what I need to do to take care of him, but there are so many things that are out of my control. I think that's the really scary part, knowing that no matter what you do right, it's not always a guarantee that things will turn out right.

It sounds a bit silly and premature to be talking about such things when I haven't even given birth to Charlie yet, but with great love comes great risk. I don't need to give birth to him to know that I love him. I don't need to give birth to him to know that I'm his mother and he's my son. I just did, and he just was, right from the beginning. And right from the first positive pregnancy test, there was that potential for great happiness as well as the possibility of overwhelming devastation. The closer I get to meeting him for the first time, the higher the stakes become. It's really fucking scary sometimes.

But pregnancy is also the best thing I've ever done, and it has been worth every one of the 25,000 emo tears I have shed in the last six months. I truly can't wait for the challenge of parenthood.

Today I am 25 weeks pregnant, and I love my son Charlie.

24 weeks

I am 24 weeks pregnant. It has been an incredibly stressful week. But I am glad to have reached this milestone (24 weeks) because it is generally considered to be the point of viability. The baby now has a chance to live outside of the womb should he choose to come early. However, he still really needs to grow for at least another 14 weeks or so.

Viability has been on my mind in a major way for awhile now. It's been a tough pregnancy week (more on my own pregnancy woes later) - two people I know (one of whom I am particularly close to) have been dealing with pregnancy loss. While I have never personally experienced pregnancy loss, I know that it must be one of the difficult things that life can throw at a person. I know this because having been pregnant for 24 weeks now, I know what can be lost. It doesn't matter how early the miscarriage is - it is still a tragic loss. Because the instant the pregnancy test comes up positive, a woman is transformed into a mother. She does everything in her power to take care of her baby. And sometimes the universe offers nothing but cruelty in return. That's why I'm asking for prayers, good wishes, healing vibes, and whatever other good stuff you've got for my two friends. I think they would appreciate them, and I know I would, too.

Here I am this week:



I look awful in this picture. I'm not exactly a vision of beauty because I have the world's nastiest cold. However, the frog boxers will hopefully make up for the sick face. This picture was taken in Charlie's room. The wallpaper was taken down today; now it's time to finalize paint colors.

I've started noticing a pattern when it comes to the kiddo. Every six weeks or so, he seems to decide that he needs to give his mom a heart attack or seven. Apparently Monday was the perfect day for one. Shortly after showing up for work that morning, I went to the bathroom and noticed I was bleeding. (Like so many other pregnant women, I am a compulsive toilet paper checker.) It wasn't a lot of blood, but it was enough to really scare me. I immediately called my OB and spoke with one of the nurses. She asked if I'd been feeling the baby move - I hadn't, which is normal for me, considering the anterior placenta and all. She told me to drink some juice to get him moving, to monitor the bleeding, and to go to L&D if I hadn't felt movement in an hour.

So I sat in my office, drank my juice, and waited to feel him move. And waited. And waited. In my mind I knew that it was normal for me to not feel him for long stretches of time, but my emotions won over. I cried a lot. Obviously I was imagining the worst. Then I went back to the bathroom to check on things and noticed more blood, and even though it hadn't been quite an hour since I'd had the juice, I left work and drove to the hospital.

I checked myself into L&D, and Roy showed up soon after. Of course, Charlie decided to give me a big strong kick after I got into the hospital gown and settled in the bed. So by the time the nurse came in to assess the situation, I was feeling much calmer. She monitored both of us for a couple of hours; I got to listen to the wooshing of Bunlet's constant movement. It made me sad to realize how little of his movements I actually feel; I'm hoping to feel more as he gets bigger, but for now I am very resentful of my placenta being anterior.

I never did get an explanation for the bleeding, which stopped on its own. There were some theories thrown out there, one being that Charlie might actually be kicking the placenta and making me bleed as a result, but nothing really definite. I was released and could have gone back to work. Instead, I opted to go home. I crawled in bed and slept for a long while.

So I think I'm good on pregnancy scares for another six weeks or so.

I also had my monthly OB appointment Thursday. I'm actually up six pounds from my last visit, giving me a grand total of nine pounds gained so far. Not too bad. I was pleased to hear I'd gained some weight. Although I have in no way been starving myself or Charlie, I felt like I wasn't gaining enough. My OB reported that the mass in my uterus is indeed a fibroid, which is what I suspected, but this is nothing to be concerned about. We talked a bit about the bleeding, and he checked my cervix for signs of premature dilation and pre-term labor. I'm happy to report that my cervix is sealed up nice and tight, so our little guy can feel free to grow. I did have another bleeding episode today, although this time it was just spotting and cleared up right away. It is never fun to see blood while being pregnant, but my OB told me that it's nothing to freak out about unless it's happening all the time, is accompanied by contractions, or is heavy.

I also had a tooth extracted this week. It wasn't too bad at all; I think the worst thing about it was the shot and my worry over having dental work done while being pregnant. The recovery has been super easy, only some mild discomfort here and there. I am so grateful for a painless recovery because it seems that nothing else this week has been easy.

All this "excitement" has clearly had an impact on me, as I got sick yesterday with a nasty cold. Today I am functional, which I am grateful for. I am pretty far behind on everything from being stressed and sick, so here's hoping next week is better.

To bring some balance into the picture, today Roy and I were both able to see our little guy kicking from the outside. What a surreal and beautiful experience. I was worried that I wouldn't experience this due to the anterior placenta, but as it turns out, this milestone is happening right on time.

Let the insanity begin...

I've been really good about not buying baby stuff. The biggest thing I had bought up until recently was the moby wrap (on sale, of course). But lately I've found such great bargains online that I couldn't help but scoop up some baby gear.

Like this Bumble Bag...



(I originally ordered it in blue paisley from babysteals, but I ended up with pink paisley. I received the bag today, and it is functional, huge, and beautiful.)

And this Micralite Fastfold stroller:



(On sale on the Mamabargains site today for a very reasonable price - wow! We got ours in black, although I was pretty drawn to the red.)

And these cute little T-shirts:





(I ordered these on sale from babysteals, but you can find them on Kee-Ka. The shirts also came in today. All the women in my office were squealing, and rightfully so!)

People keep telling me to stop buying stuff because there won't be anything left to buy for my shower. Well, I'd like to reassure everyone that there will be plenty of stuff on the registry left over. I just can't let deals like these pass by. Chances are we will have to buy a bunch of stuff ourselves anyway.

Someone at my office said that I can't have a pink diaper bag because I'm having a boy. I am now convinced that everyone in my office is crazy. Since when did I buy the diaper bag for Bunlet? It's for me! What am I gonna do? - hand him the diaper bag and say, "Here ya go, Charlie; now be a good boy and push Mommy in the stroller."

Actually, that does sound like something I'd say.

23 weeks

Today I am 23 weeks pregnant. I have been entirely too emo all week. Thanks so much for all your support as I make my way through this crazy time - your comments during these weekly posts (as well as your other comments and emails) have really made me feel good.

As it turns out, morphing into a mother is not as easy as buying maternity clothes and reading pregnancy books. As a result, I sometimes feel depressed - but (for the most part) I think of depression as a natural response to change. I'm not about to jump off a building or anything, in case you were wondering.

Totally emo belly shot:




The last shot is an inside joke between me and me (okay, so Roy's in on the joke, too). I'm sure many of you have seen some photographer or another use this cheesy pose in a maternity portrait session - it's the dead horse of cheesy poses out there. Me, I think it's hilarious when I see it come up in a photo (kind of like those selective saturation shots where the whole picture is in black and white and one part of it is in color - sooooooo 90s). Roy and I plan to do our own version of the heart on belly pose in our maternity session (but sweet baby jebus, we will not partake in a selective saturation shot - thank the gods our awesome photographer knows better). I tend to walk around doing the heart pose to random people who I think might appreciate it.

Anyway, enough trash talking. This week I:

1) ate a lot of string cheese (and I mean a lot)
2) sneezed a bunch of times (but at least I don't pee when I sneeze - yet)
3) listened to a tactless co-worker (yes, another one) tell me that it's so great that I look pregnant now and not just fat (it's so good to know that I'm not fat anymore!)
4) received an article about the octuplets via email from someone who wanted to make sure that I wasn't surprised by an extra baby when giving birth (thanks for your concern, guy)
5) worked on our registries (they're coming along!)
6) signed us up for childbirth and breastfeeding classes (Roy was shocked that he would have to attend the breastfeeding class with me.)
7) did a whole lot of research on cloth diapering and making homemade baby food, both of which we intend to do (and both of which elicit lots of eyerolls and heavy sighs from other people)
8) had my follow-up ultrasound for the mass in my uterus area (no news on that yet, but the tech was nice enough to let me look at Bunlet for awhile and print out some new pictures.)
9) booked a babymoon for me and Roy to San Francisco for Valentine's Day weekend (I am so excited!)
10) made some good headway in cleaning out the extra bedroom, allowing us to set up baby's first bookshelf (the goal is to have the room painted by the end of February - I will be in the third trimester at that point.)



And now for a humorous anecdote:

I walked into the restroom at work the other day, and the department manager (DM) was in there. Here's what happened:

DM: Oh, Leslie, I have something kind of uncomfortable to talk to you about.
L: Um, okay. What's going on?
DM: Well, Derrik wants me to bring in a stethoscope so that he can listen to your baby's heartbeat.
L: Yeah, he already told me that, and I sent him a digital file of the baby's heartbeat a couple of months ago.
DM: Well, that was really nice of you. I don't see why that wouldn't be good enough. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring in the stethoscope then, huh?
L: Uh, no, I wouldn't be comfortable with that.
DM: Yeah, that's probably a sexual harassment complaint waiting to happen.

Gee, ya think?!

I swear, the place I work is full of crazies. It's so comforting to know that my DM needed me to tell her that Derrik's request was inappropriate. What a world.

22 weeks

Friday marked the day I turned 22 weeks pregnant. It was another good week with a decent amount of energy and many people telling me how good I look (which does wonders for this pregnant woman's ego). I'm feeling the kiddo kicking on a regular basis, and let me tell you, it just never gets old. I miss feeling him move when he's silent, although many women have told me that I will soon be wishing for him not to be moving so much.

We had a very nice moment on Thursday night. I was lying on the couch, and Roy started reading a Beatrix Potter story to Bunlet. Right away Bunlet kicked me with all his might and kept kicking as Roy kept reading. It was pretty perfect. We are both so smitten with our little guy, who seems to just love books and music like we do.

This week was also characterized by some very strange and vivid dreams, one of which had to do with Bunlet ending up being a girl. On Monday I have my follow-up ultrasound, so let's just say that I'll be asking the tech to confirm that he is indeed a boy. I don't feel that my dream is some kind of prophecy, but we never really did get a great money shot during our big ultrasound. It'd be nice to get one this time around.

Here I am this week:



I look so tired in this picture.

For some reason, the Nest has decided that the entirety of month 5 will be represented by a papaya. I guess they ran out of fruits to compare the baby to. So I guess by the end of month 5, Bunlet will be the size of a much bigger papaya than the smaller papaya size he is now.



So, I said earlier that it was a good week, and it was. But still, I need to do some venting. So here goes.

VENT #1:

I hate registering.

I hated registering for our wedding, and I hate registering for baby stuff. Yes, it's fun to pick out sheets and a stroller and all that other fun baby stuff. But I had no clue how hard it really would be. I had no flipping idea that in choosing what products you want for your baby, you're kind of making....eep....parenting choices. Will you buy a swing, a jumper, a gym, a stationary play station? Will you use disposable or cloth diapers? Will you use chlorine-free baby wipes? Will you formula feed or breastfeed? Will you use a bumper in the crib? Will you co-sleep? Will you be a baby-wearer? Will you sentence your baby to a life of macho aggression if you buy him blue washcloths?

It is overwhelming. Of course I had given consideration to many of these questions before registering, but still: there's so much that I just. don't. know.

Roy and I spent about five hours in Babies R Us this week. What a place. It's supposed to make things easier for you, but in all reality, it makes things much harder. I think choices are great and all, but this store is just chock full of too many. The handy registry guide is not really all that helpful, considering that it contains a list of "must have" items which are really not "must have." Because don't you know that one baby needs a travel system, a jogging stroller, and an umbrella stroller? That baby needs an armoire, a dresser, a changing table, a chair, an ottoman, and a crib? Oh, and don't forget the lamp, the rug, the window valance, the mobile, the toy box, the diaper stacker, the hamper, and the trash can!

Babies are a business just like anything else, apparently. And we've managed to somewhat put a registry together, but oh, there is still work to be done. Cleaning up the registry online has been a much more positive experience. It's going to take awhile to get everything all neat and tidy. Good thing we have a month or so until the shower invites go out!

VENT #2:

It is not okay to criticize the way I handle my pregnancy or anything having to do with it.

This week a co-worker walked by my office, saw my cheesesteak sandwich, and asked, "May I ask why you're eating that?"

I told her I was hungry, and she proceeded to tell me that she gained a lot of weight at the end of her pregnancy and that I really need to watch what I eat and blah blah blah. I finally told her that I appreciated her advice but "it's my body."

Once she left, I was absolutely fuming. To imply that I was doing something terrible because I was eating something that she wouldn't eat was a crappy thing for her to do. Later on, she came back and told me that a great way to deal with cravings was to eat nuts. Since when did my lunch become some irrational pregnant craving for which I should apologize?

Unfortunately, this was not an isolated incident. Once you're pregnant, it becomes everyone's business, apparently. It's a lot like getting married, when people ask, "Are you sure you want to do this? My dirty rat of an ex-husband cheated on me with all of my friends." Only this time the implication is that I am somehow already failing at motherhood.

Don't get me wrong: I appreciate good advice, but I usually ask for it if I want it. I don't need to be torn down for my choices. I don't appreciate someone gasping over the fact that I may have a caffeinated beverage. I don't appreciate the spouting off of medical studies that I haven't even read about why I should avoid this food or that food. And I sure as hell don't appreciate someone talking about my weight, unless, of course, they want to express admiration for what a MILF I am. Why is any of this acceptable? Just because I'm pregnant does not mean that my body and what I put into it or do to it is anyone's flipping concern.

Yes, I drink caffeinated soda.
Yes, I eat candy and other things that are "bad" for me.
Yes, I have travelled by plane.
Yes, I ingest all kinds of food with soy in it.
Yes, I eat deli meat.
Yes, I eat soft cheeses if they are pasteurized.
Yes, I take Tylenol or Benadryl if I really need to.
Yes, I have even taken Ambien on one occasion.
Yes, I take hot baths.
Yes, I get pedicures.
Yes, I get massages.
Yes, I get my hair highlighted.
Yes, I have done some moderate lifting of things.
Yes, the dental hygienist numbed me a bit when she cleaned my teeth.
Yes, I had an X-ray.
Yes, I am even going to have some oral surgery in a couple of weeks.
Yes, I do all these things - and some more I've forgotten, I'm sure - but I do them in moderation.

But guess what? I also have a balanced diet, go walking almost every day, drink water, take prenatal vitamins, and try to take it easy when my body lets me know that it's time to do so. I don't smoke, drink, or use drugs. I don't go skydiving or parasailing or crowd surfing. I don't do heavy cleaning without a mask, and I won't participate in the peeling off the wallpaper and painting of Bunlet's room without said mask, if at all. But I made a choice not to live this pregnancy in a bubble. I make educated choices about the things I do, and I consult my doctor or another reliable source if I have questions.

The bottom line is that the only people who really need to have input into any of this pregnancy business are me, Roy, and my doctor. I am the research queen, and I knew a whole lot about pregnancy before I even got pregnant. I figured I'd be one of those people who would cut out all possibly questionable things during pregnancy, but as it turns out, this pregnancy has turned into an "everything in moderation" type of deal. And I am not going to feel guilty about that.

So I've decided that I will start handing out my doctor's business card to anyone who has "concerns" about my pregnancy.

So those are my vents for week 22. Obviously, my co-worker's comment really bothered me. But I'm trying hard to remember that this is good preparation for when Bunlet is actually born, because I know that's when the real "advice" is going to start. Gee, I can't wait for that.

21 weeks

Note: This post was written for Friday, January 16.

I am 21 weeks pregnant today! I've got a little Bunlet banana boy inside of me.



I got my weekly pregnancy email this past weekend letting me know that this would probably be one of the best weeks of my entire pregnancy. That email was right. I've been feeling great, and I've had lots of energy. I could use some more sleep (as usual), but I'm convinced that the pregnancy-related insomnia is probably here to stay, unfortunately.

Here I am this week:



For some reason I thought this week of pregnancy would be uneventful. I was completely wrong. So much has been happening! (So get ready for a long post.)

In list form:

1) Nesting. This past week I was seized with the uncontrollable urge to get everything organized and cleaned. You may recall that we moved into our new house back in November, and of course we are not entirely settled in yet. Now that I'm halfway through my pregnancy and I know we'll be bringing home a baby in five months or less, I am a cleaning, organizing, purging machine. We had a yard sale last weekend and spent the entire rest of the weekend getting things put in their proper place.

I have to say, I have no idea how we ended up with so much stuff. I feel a little ashamed at our excess, but we're doing our part to downsize and make do with only the necessities and things we absolutely love.

2) Babbling. I no longer know how to form a coherent sentence. In the past couple of weeks, I've said things like "living coexistfully" and "big bowl of bubble wrap" (instead of "big roll of bubble wrap"). One night Roy asked me if I wanted something to drink, and I said, "Yes! I want that...what is it? You know what I mean! That stuff!" Poor Roy was as bewildered as I was - finally, I yelled out "GREEN CAN!", hoping he would know that I meant ginger ale.

And that's not all. On Wednesday night, I was eating dinner, and I told Roy, "This fork doesn't cut too well." Again, the poor bewildered face of Roy, and still I kept saying, "This fork isn't cutting well." Finally, I realized that what I actually meant was "knife."

Oh, brain, I miss you.

3) Pregnancy brain. I think that #2 is part of this. My memory is pretty terrible now, and I make silly mistakes. I sent an email to my boss requesting to have a couple of hours off on 9/22 when I meant 1/22. One of the attorneys I work with asked me to make a phone call requesting some information, and I wrote down all the pertinent info. I just didn't make the phone call, and she ended up making it herself.

And those are just two examples. I'd give you more, but I can't remember them.

4) Leg cramps. I've been woken up a couple of nights this week with severe leg cramps. No fun.

5) Sneezing. I do this a lot. I have actually been sneezing quite a bit throughout my pregnancy, but it's gotten worse lately. I'm sure the winds don't help.

6) Cravings. These are out of control. Most people tend to ask if I crave strange things, but my cravings are for normal foods, not for strange combinations. This week, it's been popcorn, Doritos, cookies, and milkshakes (notice a theme here?). Last week, it was Sour Patch Kids.

In addition to the cravings, I am hungry much more often than I used to be. Either Bunlet or I (or both) of us may be going through a growth spurt, because about an hour after I've eaten a meal, I'm hungry again. I am thankful that I'm one of those people who knows when to stop when it comes to food; otherwise, I'd probably be a fat cow by now.

7) Gingivitis. Unfortunately, I'm one of the many women who develops gingivitis during pregnancy. I have always had a shitty set of teeth (yay! genetics!) so this was no surprise to me. I visited the dentist this week to inspect one of my teeth (the crown fell off last week - how horrifically white trash) and to have a cleaning done. It was relatively painless, but of course I wasn't shocked to find out that I do need to have some dental work done - but most of it, if not all of it, can wait until after Bunlet is born.

8) Pre-pregnancy pants. The light of possibility shone down on me Wednesday morning as I got dressed for work. I saw one of my favorite pairs of pre-pregnancy pants hanging in the closet and decided to give them a whirl, even though I gave up wearing them when I was 13 weeks.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I was able to button them up and wear them that day! They fit pretty well under my belly, and I walked into work feeling like an absolute rock star. I had to take a picture, of course.



(This picture makes me look like I just have a large, white stomach that is big just for the sake of being big. Which is awesome.)

All was wonderful in pre-pregnancy pants land, and then I ate lunch. And apparently everything expanded, because the next thing I knew, I was rushing for the bathroom, bella band in hand, so that I could unbutton my pants and leave them that way for the rest of the day.

It was fun while it lasted.

9) Movement. Yes, we can feel our little guy moving around! Remember when I said I had felt some small explosions in my belly last week? Well, that was him, but I wasn't certain of it at the time. I became pretty sure during my dentist appointment. I was listening to my iPod, and I put one of the earbuds on my tummy. Right away, I felt something similar to gas. Before bed that night, I tried it again with the music, and I got an immediate (and strong) reaction. I summoned Roy into the room and had him put his hand on my belly, and sure enough, Bunlet kicked and Roy was able to feel it!

It is a very cool thing to experience; it definitely makes my pregnancy feel more real and exciting. Since that night, I've been feeling him kick and punch more regularly, and it always makes me smile. It's like I have my own little secret. I often wish that I had a window into my uterus so that I could see what he's doing in there.

10) First stranger comment. Yep, someone who didn't know I was pregnant beforehand commented on my belly. It was cool to know that my belly is looking more like a baby belly and less like a beer belly.

And that's all for this week...

20 weeks

Halfway there! I can't believe it!

Bunlet is now the size of a cantaloupe.



And I am looking very pregnant. When I look down at my feet, I cannot see them anymore.



(Mao really wanted to be in the picture this week.)

Every day I hear how big my belly is (although the size tends to vary from day to day). And then people tell me that looking at me from the back, I don't look pregnant. This makes me happy. I've been avoiding checking out my ass because I'm afraid to see it spread, so maybe it's still cute.

I have to confess that I am pretty much in love with my pregnant belly. It's not that I think I am particularly attractive or sexy as a pregnant woman, but I just love my belly so much. Roy has gotten to the point where he can't keep his hands off my belly either: it's like a magnetic attraction.

Other notable things:

1) I have an unhealthy obsession with Sour Patch Kids. I freakin' love them! I've always loved them, but I love them even more during pregnancy.

2) All those rumors you hear about things looking different down there when you're pregnant are the absolute truth. I checked myself out the other night and was shocked. Shocked. They don't call it cheeseburger crotch for nothing.

3) We've been given the go-ahead to take down the wallpaper in the spare bedroom and paint the walls. This is a good thing, considering the current wallpaper looks like this:



4) I had my OB visit yesterday, and it went really well. The bottom line is that the doctor sees nothing to indicate that this is anything other than a normal, healthy pregnancy. He said the pain/pressure I felt in Texas was normal stretching of the uterus and nothing to be concerned about (unless accompanied by bleeding, of course). The results of the AFP test that I did at my last appointment were normal.

The mass that was found during our big ultrasound is more than likely a fibroid or another uterine cavity, but either way, it's nothing to be concerned about. I've been scheduled for a follow-up ultrasound later on in the month just so he can have a clearer idea of what it is we're dealing with. If I do have a separate uterine cavity, it increases the chances that I may have to have a C-section because it can force the baby into a breech position. But I am not one of those people who gets freaked out at the thought of having a C-section.

Also, I do have anterior placenta, so the fact that I haven't definitively felt Bunlet move yet is normal. (Although I did feel some very small "explosions" in my tummy last night.) I'm hoping that I'll be able to really feel him soon, if his moving is indeed what I felt. Lastly, I'm up two pounds from my last appointment, which makes my total weight gain so far three pounds.

I'm feeling really good and positive about everything, and I'm really hoping that the second half of this pregnancy will be much less eventful than the first half. I'm a little upset (still) about the way things unfolded in Texas. I feel that we were unnecessarily frightened (by the doctor) by the possibility of losing the baby, and naturally, neither of us appreciates that. But what's done is done and there is nothing I can do about what happened. The thing I always hang onto is that we have a healthy baby on the way. Being pregnant is harder than I ever thought it would be, but every day I am grateful for the journey that will lead us to our Charlie.

19 weeks

I feel extremely fortunate to be 19 weeks pregnant today, when just a short week ago I didn't know what the hell was going on with my body, my baby, or my pregnancy. Things have calmed down "down there" - I have no more pressure or pain, which is good. I'll be seeing my OB next week, and we'll discuss what happened while we were in Texas.

Bunlet is now the size of a mango!



I can tell that Bunlet is getting bigger, because I huff and puff when I have to do anything remotely active, like climbing stairs. When Roy and I were in Texas, I went up to the third floor of my uncle's house (lots of stairs!) to talk with my brother, and Roy could hear me gasping for breath down on the first floor. That's hot.

Also, my back tends to start hurting if I'm walking around a lot. I feel old. Old and pregnant. And I still haven't felt movement! I guess what I felt a few weeks ago wasn't really it. I'm bummed that I still haven't experienced Bunlet moving around, but one of the nurses at the Texas hospital told me that she suspects I have anterior placenta. If that is the case, then that explains why I haven't felt movement yet. Or maybe I just haven't felt it because it's still too early. Whatever the case, this is another thing we'll be discussing with the OB next week.

Anyway, here's my belly pic for the week, taken this morning:



Here's a picture of me modeling the Moby wrap that I ordered last week from BabyCenter's huge honkin' sale.



Yeah, that's a stuffed dinosaur. He made a good stand-in baby.

Here's to another week of pregnancy!

Keeping It Low Key: Days Five and Six of Our Christmas Vacation

To continue on with the story of my hospital visit...

I was awakened around 6 AM by a vampiric nurse who took some more blood. I vaguely remember this, because she turned on the very bright light above my bed (which was not a pleasant way to wake up). The OB showed up around 7 AM (and did the same trick with the lights). I don't remember much of what was said, as I had already drifted back into my Ambien-induced sleep. It's a good thing Roy was there.

The bottom line is that everything appeared to be normal and they were going to release me. I slept for awhile longer before being discharged. The nurse wheeled me downstairs and left us outside to wait for my mom to pick us up. It turned out to be quite a wait, so Roy wheeled me around the parking lot and different hospital buildings. Once my mom had picked us up, we decided to go to IHOP for breakfast. I was starving.

We ordered, after our waitress made note of how sad I looked. I guess I was sad, but I was more out of it than anything. I didn't get nearly enough sleep, and if/when you take Ambien, you should get at least eight hours of sleep, or else you feel drugged. I also was still having the pain/pressure, and I know I looked horrible from not brushing my hair or putting on any makeup.

For some reason, once we started eating, I started crying. We left quickly after that and drove out to my mom's house. Roy and I crashed for a couple of hours. I woke up feeling much better, though the pressure/pain was still there. I had a little bit of time to gather some things that I wanted to bring back home with me. Once we'd gathered everything together, I puttered around taking pictures of my mom's cats.

This is Zero, the one who was/is sick.





This is Bilbo and Oreo, who were Riley's litter mates.





And this is Right Tail/Little Kitty.



My mom has one other cat named Annabelle, but I couldn't get a good photo of her.

So we packed up and headed out. We were scheduled to meet my dad for an early dinner. On the way, my mom got pulled over for speeding, but she escaped with just a warning. We made it to the restaurant a few minutes late, and my dad was already there waiting.

It'd been two years since I'd last seen him. He looked good, and I could tell that he recognized me, but when he asked, "Who are you?," it stung a little. Still, we had a good dinner. He was very happy to hear that we're having a little boy. We ended up giving him a ride home and then we left town.

It was, overall, a very disappointing trip to my hometown. I really wanted more from it, but I guess it just wasn't in the cards. In talking with my friend Chris, who was always dying to escape Victoria as a teenager, I began to understand that my feelings about Victoria weren't so strange. It's essentially a place where many people grow up and then never leave. As a result, it's a town full of people who haven't experienced much of what the rest of the world has to offer. Now, I am far from being well-traveled, but I have always wanted more from life than what Victoria has to offer. It strikes me as strange that many people never leave. And I find it rather depressing.

(Oddly, I know plenty of people who have grown up in this area of California and have never lived outside of it, but they seem different than the natives of Victoria. Maybe it's just my perspective on both places.)

Our time in Victoria was so short because we wanted to get back to spend some time with my brother before he went back to Minneapolis the next day. So naturally we were all disappointed when we got back to San Antonio and discovered that my brother had gone out. We waited up as long as we could and then went to bed. It kind of sucked, but them's the breaks, right?

The next day we all hung out and then went out for lunch. I took photos.








I had woken up feeling like I was coming down with something, so Roy and I took it easy for most of the day. I had a crying episode (because I was still having the pain/pressure), which led to a mini-fight between me and my mom, which in turn made me feel even more crappy. I was so upset that I decided not to go along to take my brother to the airport. He seemed to understand when he saw I was crying. Roy and I watched a ton of episodes of Lost, which was totally awesome as usual.

All in all, days four, five, and six really kind of sucked. But things did improve after that.

(Note: Ugh, sorry these recaps are so tedious. I bore myself.)

I Went to My Hometown, and All I Got Was This Stupid Hospital Bracelet: Day Four of Our Christmas Vacation

This is where things began to go downhill.

The day after Christmas, we woke up early and prepared to leave for my oh-so-boring and oh-so-problematic hometown of Victoria, Texas. My brother had decided to stay in San Antonio while we were gone, because he needed to finish a paper. So Roy, my mom, and I piled into the car for what I thought would be an illuminating visit to the place I grew up. It was to be a short trip. My mom had a sick kitty (yes, another one) she needed to check on, and as for me, my plans for my time in Victoria were big and vast. It would be a lot to cram into a short amount of time, but I had faith that we could do it.

The thing I most wanted to do was document Victoria through photographs and later use them to write a photo essay. It sounds silly, but this was something I felt I absolutely needed to do. I have a very troubled and complicated relationship with my hometown, and I had finally begun to feel that I needed to make some sense of it.

I also wanted to see some of my extended family. I haven't seen most of my aunts, uncles, and cousins in years, and I was looking forward to seeing them and introducing them to Roy.

And lastly, I wanted the opportunity to go through the attic of my mom's house, bring down the things I wanted to keep, and store them in my room. I also wanted to go through my grandmother's quilting and bring home some of her unfinished projects.

As it turned out, none of these things happened.

But wait, that was the day that I turned 18 weeks pregnant and celebrated Bunlet's sweet potato size.



Okay, moving on. The drive to Victoria was nice and without much incident. I was on the lookout for this really beautiful, old building that I always felt drawn to when I would pass through. It had been there for years. I had photographed it before, but never with a decent camera or any amount of skill. Much to my dismay, it was gone. That sucked. To me, it is a crime to replace something historical with something "progressive" and new.

We arrived at my mom's house, and I heard from my old friend Chris. Chris and I were good buddies our last couple of years in high school, and we went our separate ways when he left for the Air Force after high school. We reconnected through myspace several years ago, and he decided to drive down to Victoria from Austin to hang out with me and see his parents.

We headed to Chili's to meet up with Chris. We spent about an hour there catching up. It was awesome seeing him again, being as it had been over ten years, and I loved that he and Roy got along well. We decided to go to a nearby book and music store to kill some time. On the way, I called my doctor to inquire about some pelvic discomfort I'd been experiencing all day. I'd been feeling a good amount of pressure in my uterus area and wasn't sure if it was normal. I spoke with the nurse, who was unable to reassure me that what I was feeling was perfectly natural, and she said that if the pressure got worse or if I started bleeding to go to the ER.

You see where this is going, right?

Yeah, I ended up in the ER. This was after the three of us drove out to my mom's house and took it easy on the couch while watching the fourth season of Lost. I thought for sure that taking it easy would help with the pressure, but it just got worse. After making a few calls to different clinics in the area, we decided to head to the ER.

You'd think that a pregnant woman would be seen right away, but apparently you have to be pregnant and bleeding in order to make something happen, at least at this hospital. We sat in the waiting room for about two hours. I was brought back three different times, once for a blood draw, once to hear the heartbeat (which the nurse couldn't hear clearly), and once for an ultrasound (which was ordered after the nurse couldn't hear Bunlet's heartbeat to her satisfaction). I wish I could say that the ultrasound was a wonderful experience, but it really wasn't. It was, of course, wonderful to see that Bunlet was okay, but all the ultrasound did was raise more questions.

(You see, back when we had our big ultrasound (on December 22), the tech discovered something odd. She asked me if I'd ever been diagnosed with a bicornuate or didelphys uterus. She mentioned it almost in passing, so I didn't think much of it. But at the end of the big ultrasound, she called someone else in to take a look, and together they puzzled over what this big dark pocket next to my uterus could be. It was determined that it was probably nothing to worry about and could likely be a fibroid, but that they would make sure to mention it to my doctor.)

I honestly didn't think that this "thing" in my uterus, whatever it was, had anything to do with the pressure I was feeling down there. But the tech at the hospital paid a lot of attention to it while she was doing the ultrasound, and I couldn't help but notice that she labeled it as a "mass" (which gave me a sinking feeling).

After being in the waiting room, we were brought back into the emergency area and given a room. The nurse was nice enough. The doctor, who was not an OB, was pretty clueless. He came in twice and couldn't determine what was wrong, but he wanted to admit me to the hospital for overnight evaluation. I was not happy about this as no one could even tell me what was going on. My best guess is that the OB on call was busy delivering babies and wanted to keep me there until he had a chance to review my ultrasound pictures. Whatever. After waiting in that ER room for another couple of hours, the doctor (the one who was not an OB) gave me a pelvic exam, which is what I'd asked for hours before (I was afraid that the pressure I was feeling was pre-term labor, and I wanted to make sure everything was sealed up tight).

The pelvic exam revealed nothing, but the doctor still wanted me to stay overnight. We finally had the opportunity to ask lots of questions, and once we got some answers, I felt that the doctor had made a good case for keeping me overnight - the word "appendicitis" was thrown out, which was concerning. He also felt the need to point out that my uterus "is just not normal," which I found extremely irritating, but which also added to his case for keeping me overnight. The kicker? He said, "Your baby is almost to the point of viability; we want to make sure you get there."

Ugh, what an asshole. There's nothing like being threatened with the possibility of losing your baby (as if I hadn't considered that before). I felt that he was really out of line in making that comment, especially because no one knew what was wrong.

At this point, we'd been in the ER for five hours, which was a ridiculous amount of time. However, they got me moved and admitted very quickly. I was given a nice room in L&D, and Roy stayed with me for the night. The nurses were great, and they gave me some Ambien to knock my grouchy, uncomfortable ass out. It worked. I slipped effortlessly into sleep.

Day five recap coming soon!

Baby Boy Bunlet

Let's kick off the new year right, shall we? Roy and I are overwhelmingly happy and excited to announce that we're having a little boy!



I've had a pretty good idea that I was pregnant with a boy since our ultrasound at the beginning of December. The tech there said she was almost positive that Bunlet was a boy but that she couldn't say for sure without a shadow of a doubt. It was confirmed at our big ultrasound on December 22.

But it's strange - at the very beginning of my pregnancy (the very night I found out I was pregnant, even), I felt like Bunlet was a boy. When I thought about telling people that I was pregnant, I also imagined myself telling them, "We're having a little boy!" It's interesting to know that my intuition was spot on, even if it disappeared for awhile.

Roy and I are really excited, of course. I have to admit that I have great ideas about what girls like and what they do, but I am a little unsure as to what to do with a little boy. It seems that boys are much more limited in what they can do (meaning that society places strict limits on them from the start). As a young girl, I enjoyed the privilege of taking dance lessons and playing GI Joe. It was okay to nurture that tomboy side of me; it posed no threat to my female identity. But boys seem to be more difficult - or actually, they are probably just different.

But you know what? I'm looking forward to the challenge of raising a boy. I really am. I guess this is just me puzzling over it all, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that in about five months, I'll be holding our beautiful baby boy in my arms and will be responsible for giving him a good foundation upon which to grow and evolve as a human being. There is so much to do in the meantime.

We do have a name picked out, and it's a really good name. I'm surprised at how traditional Bunlet's name is (not that we are the type to name our kid Apple or Pilot Inspektor), but actually I can't think of a better name for our first baby. It's all about honoring those who got us here, and as soon as the time is right, I'll be sharing his name here.

This has been a wonderful journey (with many ups and downs), and right now I may be a little unsure about relating to a little boy - but I would not change a damn thing about any of it. We absolutely cannot wait to meet our baby boy.

(The winner of the guessing game giveaway will be announced soon!)

The Best Kind of Guessing Game (It's a Giveaway!)

**This is a sticky post! Scroll down for newer posts!**

Being as our big ultrasound is coming up (Monday!), I thought I'd host a giveaway here on my blog in honor of the occasion. You could win a gift card to the Etsy store of your choice just by participating! (Why Etsy? Because I love that site, and I love the philosophy behind it. If you've never been there before, I highly suggest going over there and having a look around.)

I may end up giving away another gift card (probably to someplace else) if I get enough participants. How many is enough? I don't know. But please, play along, and tell all your friends! Tell your friends' friends! Tell your friends' friends' friends! Um, yeah.

Here's how this is going to work:

1) Leave one comment on this post telling me if you think Bunlet is a boy or girl and why. I'm really interested in hearing your reasoning, no matter how silly it is. I love silly! I love serious! I love all kinds of things! So please, indulge me.

2) I'll allow guesses in the form of comments on this post until December 31, 2008, at 11:59 PM. This post will stay at the top of my blog until then. (My first sticky post - weeeee!) One guess per person, please (and thank you)!

3) I will choose a random name from the group of people who guess correctly, and that person will be the winner.

4) I will post the winner here on my blog within the first couple of days of the New Year, so make sure you check back to see if you've won.

5) The winner will email me his/her full name and snail mail address, along with the name of his/her favorite Etsy shop for the $25 gift card. I will buy a gift card to that store and have it sent to you in the mail. And if I decide to do two or more drawings, well, I'll let you know.

6) Those of you who I know well and am likely to reveal the secret to (or who can't wait until the New Year to find out), vote early! You can't vote after you find out, you cheaters.


And now, to help you guess, here are a few clues:

1) The night I found out I was pregnant, I got a very strong boy vibe. It lasted for a few weeks and then faded away. It came back when I was 13/14 weeks and has come and gone since then.

2) Both my mom and Roy's mom think we are having a boy.

3) When I was seven weeks, the postmaster at my local post office told me that I was having a girl. (I hadn't even told him I was pregnant, and I certainly wasn't showing, either.)

4) I had a dream in the second month of my pregnancy that I was having a girl.

5) My friend Kim dreamed that I was having a girl.

6) My mom dreamed that I had a boy (with red hair).

7) Once, during a conversation with my brother-in-law Paul while in my third month of pregnancy, he referred to Bunlet as "her" without batting an eye.

8) My other brother-in-law, Jake, said that he thinks we're having a girl because of Roy's "wuss sperm." (I find this funny because female sperm, while slower, are actually more resilient than male sperm.)

9) This Chinese gender chart says I'm having a girl. *

10) If you go by the Shettles method of gender selection, we should be having a boy. *

11) If seeing how I'm carrying would be helpful, here's my most recent belly pic (again), taken at last night, at exactly 17 weeks:



No, that's not death warmed over. It's me, I promise.

12) And here is Bunlet's most recent ultrasound picture (again):



* Note: I really think that both the Chinese gender chart and Shettles method are just fun ways of guessing the sex, but I don't feel there's much to either of them.

So, now you have the rules and the clues - let the games begin!

17 weeks

Today I'm 17 weeks pregnant. Wow! Almost halfway through - time is flying.

Bunlet is now the size of an onion.



I took WeeMo's suggestion on my last belly pic post and decided to take belly pics with something that is close to Bunlet's size. So this week it's our stuffed Christmas penguin.

I really don't like this picture. I need to take my belly pics in the morning, because I look like death warmed over at night.



I got my hair done this week and admitted to my hairdresser that I am indeed pregnant. She said that she immediately noticed when she saw me that I had a tummy but wasn't sure if it was due to pregnancy or just weight gain. So apparently I'm still at the "is she pregnant or has she just had too much beer" phase.

Noteworthy (pregnancy-related) events of the week:

1) It is now extremely easy to find Bunlet's heartbeat on the doppler both at home and at the doctor's office. We used to have to search quite a bit for it, but now it's a piece of cake.

2) Roy and I actually went to Babies R Us last Saturday. It was not as overwhelming as I expected it to be, maybe because I don't go crazy over baby stuff in general. But it did spur me to look for baby things online. I found a couple of bedding sets that I like, both of which seem to be gender-neutral to me.

This one is labeled for a boy, but whatever, it's cute for a girl, too. Down with the pink and blue stereotypes!



This set is really cute. I had a huge collection of stuffed monkeys as a kid, so I really love monkey stuff for kids.



Of course, I will do a ton of research before we start buying/registering, all with the help of my well-loved copy of Baby Bargains.



3) The night we celebrated Paul's birthday, my nephew Noah asked me, just as I was about to bite into my big honkin' piece of cake, "Aunt Leslie, did you have your baby?"

"No," I said, "why do you ask?"

And then he replied, "Because you're eating cake."

I couldn't help but laugh. I love kids. I love the stuff they come up with. I can't wait to hear the crazy stuff that is bound to come out of Bunlet's mouth.

4) I already know that Bunlet is moving around like crazy, but within the next few weeks I should actually begin feeling it. While Roy and I were shopping this past weekend, I felt a strange sensation. It felt like something was poking me very gently from the inside. It happened a few times in a short amount of time and then stopped altogether, and I haven't felt it since. So it probably wasn't baby movement. It's really hard to tell, though, with all the other weird things that are going on (stretching, etc).

5) Melinda, she of poo-flinging fame, has generously offered to throw us a co-ed baby shower. This is a girl who wakes up at 4:00 AM for work five days a week and will be in school until 10 PM four nights a week next quarter. She's freaking insane. But she insists she can handle it. She's a braver woman than me, that's for sure.

That's all the news I've got for now, but watch for my official vote-if-Bunlet-is-a-boy-or-girl post coming up this weekend. There's a prize in it for you - maybe even more than one prize if I get enough participants.

A Mother's Grace

My mom called me last night and wearily told me that she'd had to put one of our family cats, Riley, to sleep earlier in the day. He was sixteen years old, and his age had finally caught up with him.

Riley and I were not close. My brother referred to him as "intense," and that's probably a good word choice - we never formed a close bond, but still, this was sad for me to hear. My mom's house will be a little more empty without our black and white buddy. I wish Riley the most perfect peace.

Here's to you, Riley. Your slobbering was top-notch, and you were annoying as all hell. You look a little crazy in the picture below, and I wish I could blame it entirely on the flash. But you were one of a kind, and I'm going to miss you. RIP, ol' buddy.



These phone calls I receive from my mom are the ones that I dread; they are reminders of what I had, what's been lost, and the time that's passed. When I moved to California back in 2001, my mom had four dogs and 10+ cats, remnants of our growing up and our addiction to taking in strays - that's a whole lot of pets, but living in the country on a large plot of land, we always had plenty of space for them to roam and be happy. They've all had lives full of fields, food, and love, and that is the only comfort I know when one of them passes away. When I come back to my mom's house, the place where I grew up, there's that feeling of emptiness - all four dogs are gone now, and most of the cats have died as well. I will never see any of my favorites again. (I know you're not supposed to have favorites, but there were those that I was really attached to. I still get that telltale lump in my throat any time I think of any of them.)

Every time we lose a family pet, there's my own sadness to deal with, but there's also the acknowledgment that my mom is a quiet hero. She accompanies our pets as they take their final breaths; she is there as they slip away. She calls me when it's over and listens to me cry. Sometimes she shares in the tears with me, but most of the time, it's about her comforting me. She's the one who does the hard, dirty work, and she does it with grace.

As I prepare for my own journey to motherhood, I know that this is one of those really difficult things that I'm eventually going to have to deal with. Some day I'm going to have to tell our kids that their favorite kitty or puppy is very sick and needs to be put to sleep. I'm going to have to explain the fact of death, that most unexplainable thing, and I'm going to have to watch my children experience heartbreak.

How will I do this? Will I cry with them? Will I wait until they've gone to bed and then let it all out? How do you balance a mother's grace with that sorrow? How do you put aside your own pain while shouldering the sadness of your children?

I do not have the answers to those questions. But one thing I do know is that my mom will always be my hero, because even though I'm pushing 30 and my brother is 33, all she still wants to do is protect us from the pain of the world. It's a hard, selfless job that I'm taking on, and I sometimes wonder if I have it in me to be that kind of a hero (or a hero at all, really).

And then there's the knowledge that I would do anything to protect this little life inside me. I know this, because every time I see Bunlet moving and wiggling away on the ultrasound screen, all the crappy pregnancy side effects are totally worth it. I'll take more insomnia, more dry-heaving, and more leakage if it means that Bunlet will thrive. You can even throw in some vomiting and constipation for good measure.

Bunlet seems to have unlocked some strength inside me that I didn't know I had. So I guess you could say that Bunlet is my hero, too. I'm proud to be my kiddo's mom, and I'm proud to be my mom's kiddo. Without them, I wouldn't know grace, and I sure as hell wouldn't know this kind of love.

Superwoman

Stick a fork in me! I'm done with my final paper for the quarter, which means I'm done with the quarter. Finally.

As I mentioned, last week was hard. (I've heard that the full moon made things crazy for Geminis.) I had to ask my professor for an extension on my final paper, which was due on Wednesday. He granted me an extension until Thursday. Then I had to ask for an incomplete. As he doesn't like to give incompletes, he gave me an extension until this morning.

Good enough. This may ruin my GPA that I've worked so hard to maintain, but good enough. At this point, I am not picky. In fact, I am so not picky that the paper I turned in didn't meet the page requirement at all. I am normally a much better student, but I also don't usually have a human being growing in me. One thing pregnancy has made me realize is that I'm not Superwoman. Not anywhere close.

So I spent the weekend sleeping and writing and reading and spending time with family and friends, trying not to dwell on the challenges ahead. Because even though the paper's done, there's still a mess of things to deal with.

I'd like 2009 to be simpler, please.

We had our gift exchange with Roy's family last night. Paul drew my name and got me this:



It's a toy camera kit that uses medium-format film and takes awesomely imperfect pictures. I'm extremely excited to add this to my arsenal. I've been wanting this for close to a year now.

Paul also got me two of these, except in classy, shiny silver:



They are perfect for the food-phobic.

(Thank you, Paul.)

We also celebrated Paul's birthday last night. We had yummy chocolate cake, and I loved the candles.







Happy birthday, Paul! And happy winter break to me.