WTF Wednesday: Eff You, Cold

I have a nasty cold. Normally, that would be nothing a little DayQuil couldn't fix. But I'm pregnant. Which means NO COLD MEDICINE ALLOWED.

W. T. F.?!?!?!?!

Pre-Approved Belly Rubbers

Yesterday I mentioned that people should never ask to rub a pregnant woman's belly. Ten minutes after hitting "Publish" my bestie texted me.

"I will rub your belly whenever I want, just try to stop me."

I cracked up. She's right. I never even bat an eye when she rubs my bump. Same goes for The Hubs, most of my family, and select close friends. In fact, I love when they do it! I had a Carrie Bradshaw moment and couldn't help but wonder...

Why am I so offended when some rub my pregnant stomach but I adore when others do it? What makes someone worthy of being placed on my pre-approved belly rubbers list? I reflected on my experiences with the belly rub and how each made me feel.

Those that I welcome the rub from are those that I trust implicitly, that I feel completely safe around and protected by. They don't even need to ask me first, I almost expect them to give my little bun in the oven a warm pat hello whenever they see me. I have a level of intimacy with these people that I don't with others. But it's more than that. When thinking of those times I felt repulsed or annoyed at a belly rub, I realized something big. Not only do I not necessarily trust those people, I don't trust my child with them.

Call it mother's intuition, biology, animal instinct, whatever you like, but my belly is like a safety radar. So far the people that have incited a sense of violation have been strangers, people who were heavily intoxicated, casual acquaintances, and "friends" whom have betrayed me, lost my trust, or I deem irresponsible. If my first instinct when someone rubs my belly is anger, chances are high that I don't find them worthy of being a constant in my baby's life. No belly, no baby? It may sound cold, but it may also be a harsh reality.

My little guy isn't even here yet and I'm already fiercely protective over him. I shield my belly in public places, when around sharp corners, and in any situation I may feel a little creeped out or vulnerable. I'm already highly sensitive to who I want to interact with my kid. The Hubs and I frequently discuss appropriate babysitters and possible guardians in the tragic event that something happen to us. So I guess it only makes sense that my belly, the literal protector of my unborn child, would act as a sort of detector for those that should and shouldn't be in my son's life. Or is my stomach just an elitist snob?

What do y'all think? Is my belly's pre-approved baby rubbers list an amazing safety predictor? Or is it just acting like a pushy bouncer manning the velvet rope of my uber-exclusive Club Uterus?

WTF Wednesday: How to Piss Off a Pregnant Woman

WTF happens to people when they're around a pregnant woman? Tell someone you're preggers and suddenly all decorum and tact flies right out the window. They will say ANYthing to you no matter how wildly inappropriate. I can't decide if these people are trying to help or if they're just assholes. Probably a little of both. For those that may have an expectant mom in their life, here's a handy list of some things to NEVER EVER EVER say to her:

Was this planned?
Were YOU planned?

Took you long enough! (Same goes for "I'm not ready for you to be pregnant yet!")
Oh shit! Next time I'll be sure to bone on a timeline that works for you.

You're so big! Are you sure it's now twins in there?
Yes, I'm sure. How many babies are YOU having, asshat? (This also goes for "You're so tiny!" Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.)

Can I rub your belly? (especially if said while you're ALREADY touching her belly)
Can I rub YOUR belly, random stranger? No?!? Alrighty, then.

I don't like that name.
Well now I don't like yours.

I wish you were having a boy/girl instead of a girl/boy.
Oh, I'm sorry. Let me just perform a sex change on my unborn child in utero to suit your desires.

Get all the sleep you can now, because it's all over when the baby comes!
Gee, thanks! I hadn't thought of that! And I'm sleeping just great now what with all the worrying, aches, baby kicks, and constant peeing.

I have the worst/scariest/grossest labor story...
Splendid! I wasn't terrified enough.

Are you sure you should eat/drink that?
Are you sure you should question a hormonal pregnant woman?

It's just hormones.
Fuck you.

Week by Week: 17

Whoops! Missed a few weeks again...let's blame the baby brain. I'm also blaming baby brain on the fact that I forgot to rinse the conditioner out of my hair the other day and didn't notice until I'd blow-dried my hair.

The second trimester rumors are true! I feel so much better than I did in the first, have a lot more energy, and have become a nesting maniac. Getting the house ready for our little Cannonball (as we've nicknamed him) is a long process and I'm happy to be getting started as early as possible.

We saw our little guy again yesterday and he's getting so big! Already a show-off, he's measuring a week ahead of schedule, which explains my rapidly expanding waistline!

Our growing boy

My folks are pretty excited, too!

WTF Wednesday

Now that I've cleared most of the scary milestones in my pregnancy (first trimester "danger zone", genetic testing, chromosomal testing, etc.), I've been anxiously awaiting the day when I'll feel our little Nugget move. While all the books say this can occur anywhere from 16 to 20 weeks, I still find myself frequently googling "When will I feel baby kick?" I've read all kinds of answers, including many expectant mothers claiming to have felt movement as early as 13 weeks. (Let's be real, ladies. That's just gas.) But what I wasn't expecting one of my searches to turn up was this...

According to the Kickbee website, this crazy-ass product "...is a stretchable band worn by a pregnant mother. Vibration sensors are attached directly to the band, and are triggered by movement underneath. The band and electronics are covered in a soft fabric cover for design and comfort. A microcontroller in the garment captures the movement and transmits the signals wirelessly to a computer running a custom application. The application receives the sensor values and analyzes them. When a kick is detected, a message is posted to the social messaging service Twitter via its API (Application Programming Interface). Twitter makes it easy to share these short messages of "I kicked Mommy!" with family and friends, and allows them to be sent as text messages to any mobile phone in the world. The Twitter account can also act as a data log that can be accessed later for visualization or archiving."

First of all, how uncomfortable must this contraption be? At only 15.5 weeks, I'm already SO aware of my growing belly. I can't imagine strapping something around it all day! While I can understand the importance of some monitoring kicks, do our poor Twitter followers REALLY needed to be alerted every time? Won't they be annoyed to keep getting the same "I kicked Mommy!" tweet in between funny memes, celebrity's self-promotions, and pictures of people's dinners? I'm pretty sure one would lose at least 75% of their followers, and friends, after only three days of using this thing. Not to mention, a tweet from a fetus?!?! That's just weird. Let's at least wait until they're out in the world before we get them all hooked on technology and social media!

WTF, you guys?!?!?

The Mystery is Gone

Once upon a time, in the sweet blue eyes of my beloved husband, I was a proper lady. Though I was always honest with him, I made sure to keep an air of mystery in our relationship. Bodily functions? I had none. I prided myself on my ability to hide any kind of flatulence or pooping for almost NINE YEARS.

Then I got pregnant.

Now, he's heard me fart. Not like that ONE time I cutely let out a teeny little "poot" in my sleep, where he was so overcome with giggles that he actually woke me up to tell me how cute my tiny fart was. No. Now he's heard me rip ass like a frat boy who's binged on espresso shots and Taco Bell.

ME: *lets out giant, man-sized fart while husband is in the other room, hoping he's far enough away to have not heard*
HUBS: "You alright?"
ME: "Yep!"
HUBS: "Was that what I think it was?!?!"
ME: *tries desperately to think of something, ANYTHING, else is could have been, fails miserably* "SHUT UP!!!!"
HUBS: *laughs hysterically for a solid hour*

Gone are the days when he thought I was the poop-less wonder. Now I literally cry to him while in constipated agony, begging him to get me prunes, ExLax, Metamucil, "ANYTHING THAT WILL MAKE ME SHIT, PLLLEEEEAAAAAASSSEEE!!!!" Now he celebrates with me when I emerge from the bathroom, noticeably slimmer, and proclaim, "I FUCKING POOPED, MAN!"

So, yes. The mystery is gone and I've had my fair share of humiliation. But today he told me that I've never been more beautiful than when I'm pregnant and I fell even more in love with him.

I also let out a silent fart, but luckily that went unnoticed.

Week by Week: 14

Whoops! I'm a little late on the Week 14 update, but I got sidetracked by some fan-freaking-tastic things (also, baby brain in no joke)!

First up, I've officially outgrown my pants. I tried to hold out (and suck in) to stay in my beloved, perfectly broken in, favorite jeans as long as I could. The good ol' rubber band trick worked for a little while, investing in belly bands only bought me another couple of weeks, and I can only wear leggings so much. So I gave in and bought my first maternity pants. And you guys? I'm a bit peeved at myself for holding out so long. Those things are COMMMMFFFFYYY!!! Damn! Plus, finally seeing myself (and my cute belly) in jeans that actually fit properly made me realize just how silly I must have looked squeezed into my old faves. Ah well, live and learn. And exhale.

Then, we got the news we'd been waiting for! Our final results from our last doctor's appointment came back and it was all the greatest news! Not only is our little Nugget perfectly, wonderfully healthy, but my mother's intuition was actually RIGHT!!!! Just as I'd thought (and hoped)...

IT'S A BOY!!!!!!

I'd be happy no matter what the baby's gender was, but the thought of a tiny little version of The Hubs running around makes me just too happy for words.

The force is strong with this one!

Week 14 bump...in jeans that fit!

WTF Wednesday

Welcome to WTF Wednesday, where I'll explore some of the stranger sides of baby products, pregnancy phenomena, and general "WTF?!?!?" breeding moments. First up (other than my lunch when I stumbled upon this)...PLACENTA PRINTS.

Whhhaaaatttt? Yeah. Placenta art, guys. Art made from your PLACENTA. To hang in your home. Over your baby's crib. No no no no. Just no.

Look, I know some women will call me an asshole for judging this. And I don't care. This. Is. Gross. I thought it was weird when I read that women were EATING their placentas after birth, I thought it was weirder when I found out they were planting their placentas in gardens, but this. This is going too far.

I dunno, y'all. Maybe I'll feel differently after delivering my own miracle and subsequent afterbirth. Maybe I'll feel the overwhelming desire to celebrate the life force that nurtured my little one. Maybe I'll finally understand what on earth would urge a woman to purchase such a thing (and let's not even discuss the packaging/shipping process that must take place). Or maybe I'll just move on with my life, and my baby, sans placenta.

Week By Week: Lucky 13

We're almost done with our 13th week! While the first trimester seemed to take FOOOORRREEEVVVEEERRR, it was so worth the wait!

At the doc's this week we got to see our sweet little nugget! He/she has grown so much since our last visit at 8 weeks when they just looked like a little bean. Now the wee one's all baby-like and was dancing around like a fiend! We saw hands, legs, fingers, mouth, spine, so much! I think it threw both me and The Hubs for a loop. We knew we'd finally get to see something that resembled a baby, but neither of us was expecting just how active the little guy would be! Very much their father's kid, the baby was a bit camera shy, not wanting to show us their face at first. But after some hilarious tricks from our ultrasound tech (that I was horrified for The Hubs to witness but did without any hesitation because DAMMIT, MAMA WANTS TO SEE YOUR SWEET FACE, KID!!!), the little nug turned around and WAVED! He/she then immediately turned their face away from the camera again, but continued jumpin' and jivin' in my womb like they were in their own personal nightclub. Amazing, you guys. Just amazing.

This week's ultrasound had us a little nervous since it's when we were getting checked out for Down's Syndrome and all that. Everything looked great on the sonogram, but we're still awaiting my blood test results for the all clear. We were, however, very pleasantly surprised to learn that the blood test will also be able to show us the baby's gender! We'd thought for sure we wouldn't get that bit of info till 16 or 20 weeks when the little one could show us their stuff. But science is crazy, y'all. We may know as soon as 10 days whether we've got a girl or boy on board! Woot!

The sweetest profile I've ever seen.

A wave hello!

Week 13 baby bump in Big Bear!

Catching Up

Huh. Whatdya know? I suck at keeping this blog up, too! I blame the first trimester nausea, exhaustion, fear, and insane holiday season. I can do that, right? Cuz I am. But I'm back! With grand plans to actually maintain this baby blog like a real-live dedicated blogger! Keep your fingers crossed for me.

So what's happened in the last few months I've been knocked up? Let's see...

I threw up. I celebrated. I worried. I cried. I craved. I slept. I didn't sleep. I had my first real (and thankfully only so far) "Am I losing the baby?" scare. I saw my precious little bean on an ultrasound screen. I worried some more. I bloated. I Thanksgiving-ed. I questioned. I read. I traveled. I Christmas-ed. I grew. And then, when we were finally out of the danger zone, I spread the happy news!

Going "public" made it all so much more real. Combine that with the fact that officially NONE of my pants fit anymore and we're hitting the second trimester, and THIS. SHIZ. IS. ON.

Here we go...!