Second Dr. Visit

Sorry for the lack of posts. Blame Daddy P. I've been in New Orleans! I attended a conference with my BFF for the past few days, so it wasn't all fun and games. Learned a lot. Ate some disappointingly not so yummy food. The good news is that my appetite is getting way better. As I type Daddy P is eating soup that last week would have made me puke, but this week is only minorly nauseating. And, my energy is starting to increase a teeny bit. Yay week 11! I love you, week 11! But, the bad news is that yesterday while sitting at a sports bar, watching UT suck butt and give it all up to Memphis, I had my purse stolen. So if you want to call me, call Daddy P.

We met with Liza CNM today for our second visit. After an exhaustive listing of any diseases and genetic problems that we knew about, and checking the good ole weight, we met with Liza. She said I'm anemic (yay) despite the amount of spinach and red meat I consume AND the vitamins I've been taking for four months. I am to eat more red meat and spinach. I won't complain about it too much. What else... we decided to forgo any genetic testing and just wait and see what the universe has planned for us in October. We also found out my uterus is tilted (runs in the family), so Liza was a little worried because she couldn't figure out how big it actually was...
(to be continued tomorrow)

bah humbug

Day 1 of week 10. Yay! The baby is an inch long, so says my book (thanks, Carolyn!). With eyelids, fingers, toes, and gonads in the works!

Add a cold to a pregnant woman and you get even more finickiness and complaining than before (which, in my case, is quite an accomplishment). So, if you talk to Daddy P or see him, give him lots of props for being the most amazing husband in the world. Because, he is, and to remain so even with a pregnant and sick wife it is all the more impressive. I came home on Thursday to an immaculate home with yellow tulips on the counter. And that was before he even knew I was sick! I feel so tired, and self-involved in my own nausea that I am constantly amazed by this man who goes above and beyond for me, even in my crabbiest and crankiest of states.

What I was hoping to be a weekend of finally being out in the sun (the cold sun, albeit, but sun) has turned into a weekend of huddling on the couch over a humidifier with my bottle of Tylenol firmly in my grasp. This experience (sans cold medicine) has made me realize how much I love Nyquil and Sudafed. I miss you, drugs! And you, too, Aleve! Daddy P made chocolate chip cookies for me (chicken noodle soup sounds positively disgusting right now) and they seem to be a decent cold comfort (maybe not remedy though). More later when I am less grouchy. Well, that could be a while. More later when my cold is gone...

The Cruelty of NoCoffeeNoBeer

My poor wife. I don't understand it, but she can sleep for 10 hours in a night, and still be completely exhausted. Whoever decided that pregnant women should be constantly fatigued AND suffer from insomnia was just cruel. For you medically inclined people out there, if you can show that having a cup of joe in the morning doesn't pose a threat to a fetus, you would have my eternal gratitude.

By the way, our fetus's name is now Cletus. Cletus the fetus. Thanks to all those who voted. Thanks a lot. I'm sure that S's psychology knowledge just became more useful.

A homemade day

I guess all that great weekend sleep caught up with me, giving me some energy to cook. Since food seems to be the focus of this blog, why not keep it that way... We had crepes and fried bananas for breakfast. I made Irish Soda Bread in honor of St. Paddy's day tomorrow. And Daddy P, with a teeny bit of prodding, made us some homemade butter! (Credit to Crunchy.) Yum!! Seriously, all it takes is some good (organic) cream, and a mason jar (or empty glass jar), and a lot of arm.


About 15 minutes later you have butter!
And so yummy... Top that off with steaks, artichokes, and corn, and dinner was better than any meal we've had out in Connecticut!

Yeah, pregnant.

Go to work, go to meetings, the day as a continual yawn.
Food today: cereal with milk, a milkshake.
A call to Daddy P to make an emergency grocery shopping list.
It went something like this: "I can't eat anything and I'm starving."
"What do you want me to get for dinner?"
"I don't know. Nothing sounds good."
"Nothing?"
"Uh, cheese?"
"Okay..."
"Meat sounds really gross."
"No meat?!"
"Black bean tacos?"

My lovely, kind, generous husband planned the following meals for us (if you think these aren't meals, reserve your judgement): black bean tacos, macaroni and cheese, and broccoli cheese casserole.

Dairy's doing good things for me so far. This baby's going to have the strongest freaking bones. And it had been a long time since I'd had a milkshake...

Entering Week 8

I think we're entering week 8. I must admit I find this whole week system a bit confusing. The first two weeks are fake -- the baby doesn't even exist yet. Then, the doctor tells me I'm "6 weeks 3 days" but the book says that is really "week 7" so... whatever. The baby's a blueberry this week. It sounds small, but my body's doing some weird crazy things to make room for that little blueberry. The stomach twinges in my body are downright eerie. The book says that these those twinges are really my muscles getting ready to separate and move to make way for a bowling ball. Whatever it is it's the creepiest thing. I'm not good with weird creepy asymmetric twinges, and this isn't something I'm really enjoying. But, it's one of the many sacrifices I get to now lament as a mother to be.

So far the best part of pregnancy is getting to demand whatever dinner I want. (Sh, don't tell Daddy P.) To my credit, the idea of ground beef in pasta makes my stomach lurch, so this isn't a fabricated aspect of the pregnancy. It's real. But can also be convenient. I see a lot of pizza dinners in our future, I'll say that much. So far dairy has been one of the few things that has consistently sounded yummy. (Oh goat cheese! How can I live without you for 9 months??)

Daddy P's been the best hubby in the whole wide world. Cooking to my whims, pitching in with chores so I can squeeze in a nap, and hitting me in the uterus with the racquetball when we play. Oh wait, that last one should be on the "bad" list.

We've been living our same old uneventful lives though! We went to see "In Bruges" last night for date night. (Gory, odd, but well done. Colin Farrel (sp?) made the movie. He was very awesome.) Not much that's too exciting and cool... :) Thanks for reading...!

I guess it's technically a "midwife" appointment

We saw the doctor yesterday. Well, he's a midwife. Or, a midhusband or something. CMW. There. He is also, apparently, and auctioneer. It was a whirlwind. I left totally overwhelmed and (I'm blaming the hormones and massive blood loss for this one) cried when I got home after snapping at Daddy P. What a FUN day!!

He was nice, despite his rapid-fire speech and his lecture against circumcision. I liked his hippy ways, and he answered all our questions with knowledgeable seeming answers. Although he did tell me that I shouldn't keep running, which I am considering ignoring. Something about the placenta coming detached... Hm... (Moms? Help me out.) We have our next appt. in two weeks so we have time to formulate more questions and get more information.

But, I am indeed pregnant. So, there's a shocker. (Thank God. There is nothing in WebMD to explain my cluster of symptoms OTHER than pregnancy so I would have been a medical miracle or something. Adam probably would have dissected me and found his medical fortune with the whole thing.)

For those of you constantly asking ;) I'm fine. Specific appetite, some nausea, total exhaustion, but plugging along. Daddy P has been the sweetest husband on earth. Cooking to my whims (or really, lack thereof), letting me whine and complain all the time, and just generally doing little special things here and there to make my life easier. Awww... !

That's that! We'll keep you posted!

We hit the jackpot

I would like to introduce my child, Number 51. He or she was given this moniker by my wonderful wife, who thought that it would take forever to conceive a child. You see, she thought of pregnancy like the lotto. To her, there were a bunch of eggs bouncing around in her ovaries just like the lotto balls do in the clear plastic containers on the tv lottery drawings. Each month, the lid on the ovary was removed, and one of the lucky balls came rolling down the tube. Lucky for us, the odds weren't stacked so much against us. The first month we tried, it was deemed to be number 44. The second, and lucky, month we hit the jackpot on number 51. Want to know what inspired the number to be 51? Those of you in St. Louis might just get a hint on what the name of our child will be if you can figure out that mystery.

When does the glowing happen?

So far, being pregnant is a lot like never-ending PMS: grumpiness, irritability, bloating. Oh, it is different in that I am completely and constantly exhausted. I think Daddy P's starting to wonder if this whole thing was a good idea. I am trying to save the blame for when the baby can understand me when I say, "I sacrifice everything for you!" First doctor's visit is Tuesday. I think it's just a clothed, "this is what to expect" and "what type of doctor/delivery do you want" type meeting, but it will still feel a little reassuring just to be in the presence of someone who went to school to deal with this. My schooling won't come in handy for about two years I'd say, so we're flying blind!