baby update!

I just got back from an ultrasound. Want to hear about the baby? Well, it's definitely a girl. At the last ultrasound they were sure about that, but it's nice to know someone else is really sure about it, too! I even have a picture of her va-jay. When she's older, please don't tell her I put it on the internet.

Even though I have not gained a pound, the baby has. She weighs 4 lbs. 13 oz. Eleven weeks ago, at the last ultrasound, she weighed 1 lb. 6 oz. She's eating up my fat or something. It mystifies me, but you'd better believe I'm not complaining about it!

What I want to complain about a little bit is the fact that she's breech. At nearly 33 weeks, there is very little chance she's going to spin around because there just isn't enough space. That means I will almost definitely have a c-section, which pisses me off a bit. I've devoted a lot of time to reading about natural child birth and mentally preparing to give it an epidural-free go, but it looks like I won't have the chance. A c-section isn't the end of the world, in fact I must admit the idea of not having to deal with tearing and stretching sounds pretty nice. Did you know it can feel like your innards are going to fall out of your vagina while recovering from vaginal birth? Can't say I'd prefer that to nursing a wound on my abdomen. There are drawbacks to c-sections, such as delayed functions in the baby because of the epidural drugs, fluid in the lungs that doesn't get pushed out by way of vag delivery, and complications during and after surgery. I guess there are pros and cons for every method of delivering a baby, so I'm not too freaked out or sad. At least I have some time to adjust to the idea of major abdominal surgery.

Also, I've been telling everyone the wrong due date! I really thought it was 10/17, but it's actually 10/18. I'm fine with that, because 8 is great, and I generally don't like odd numbers.

Want to see some pictures now?

These are her arms. The ultrasound tech said her hands are up by her face. Look for the vertical lines near the center - these are her forearms, with hands near the top of the image. I believe the wavy white line to the right is the curve of her ear and she is facing away from the image. On every image the tech put some words, and this one says "Hi family!" but my caption would have to be "Talk to the hand!"

This is her face! Tilt your head to the right and you'll see her straight-on. I see a skull and some eye holes and what must be her nose. Cute! Makes me want to spend $150 for one of those 3-D image things. But I also want to spend $150 on a Roomba for the copious dog hair situation, and unless little Miss comes out with vacuuming skillz, I'm thinking the Roomba will be more worth it. Besides, I can wait to see her face. I've been uncharacteristically patient knowing the best surprise of my life is headed my way.
These are her feet! "LT Foot" is below the left foot, "RT Foot" above the right. The feet are very close together, and this is a bottom view of them. Do you see them? I see them! Apparently she's bent in half at the waist, with her feet up near her belly and her butt sitting on my bladder. That means her head is near my ribcage, which explains why I can't eat more than fist-sized amounts of food before I'm stuffed, only to be starving again in less than an hour.
This is her vagina. The text says "Think pink!!" with a nicely defined arrow pointing right at her poochy labia. I'm allowed to say stuff like that because I'm her mom. Poochy labia, poochy labia, poochy labia.

So that's it for now, I guess. Oh yeah! We decided on a name! Now we just need to pick out a middle name, which might very well be the middle name my mom and I share. You know, tradition and shit. Seven weeks and counting, people! I'm so ready to meet her.

malazy

Ugh. I am so freaking tired.

All I want to do is sleep. It's never been easier for me to fall asleep, which makes it even more tempting to just stay home and stay horizontal on the couch, fading in and out as needed. Frequent trips to the kitchen for blackberry cobbler (from scratch!) would also be nice. I made it yesterday on a whim, which turned out to be a very expensive whim. Did you know fresh blackberries cost almost $4 for a little container? I spent nearly $15 on just blackberries alone, and I'm pretty sure I could've just gone to the bakery section and gotten like FIVE fucking cobblers for that. Sure, sense of accomplishment and blahblah. Whatever. I ripped myself off. But now I know how to make cobbler!

I really want to start cooking more. We've been stuck in a food rut, getting the same things at the store every time we go. Do you do that? How adventurous are you in the kitchen? I want to be adventurous. I really like cooking, but I'm lacking motivation. I've even started collecting recipes that I want to try. What I lack, as usual, is follow-through. I can't fucking stick the landing!

(Sorry, I was watching gymnastics a few days ago. They were talking about the next summer Olympics! Squee!)

When I'm all, like, mommy to a toddler who is no longer attached to my breasticles (so mature!)I want to have menus planned out so that cooking and shopping isn't stressful. I already hate grocery shopping, in fact I think I'm going to talk to Micah about him being the permanent grocery shopper and me the permanent laundress. Even though laundry takes twice as long and folding makes me sweaty and squirmy, I absolutely hate the grocery store. Consequently, food rut, because I go for what's familiar so I can get out of there faster. Micah actually takes his time and peruses the fucking place. I must say, he always comes back with a few fun surprises that I never would have picked up. He's good.

God, have I really resorted to expounding on our grocery habits? If you could even call it expounding. More like spewing.

I'm bored. I want the baby to come, yet I'm still eager to gulp up all the decadent alone time I can get, eating warm cobbler with vanilla ice cream and watching Real Sex reruns. I can't stand sitting at work, browsing blogs that don't get updated often enough and dreading having to actually answer the phone. Maybe I'm nesting, or something? We're finally settled into the apartment, and though it's smaller and less charming, I love it. I just want to be here, with Micah and Avery, eating $15 cobbler, debating baby names, and watching Big Brother 8.

Have I mentioned the cobbler? Oh. I'd offer you some, but...it's expensive. (Memo to self: Purchase frozen berries next time, you fucking idiot.)

scary baby edition

Actual Suggestions From The Baby Name Book

Ragnfrid - (Norse) One who gives beautiful advice. She'd better do everything beautifully with a name like that.

Celery - (American) Refers to the refreshing and healthy food. What? No. Really. What?

Heart - (American) One who is romantic. Um, last time I checked, a heart is a blood-pumping organ. They could've even gone with something like "The internal drive to persevere." These fucking idiots.

I could go on, but maybe later. I think you get the point. The authors reeeeally had to stretch it to come up with 100,001 baby names. Really, wouldn't 50,000 have sufficed? You only need one, after all.

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This baby bunting fuhreaks me out.

Why?

1. That baby has flippers.

2. That baby has four flippers.

3. The lower flippers sort of look like adult-length arms with oven mitts on.

4. Consequently, the whole thing looks like an alien.
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Registering for baby things at the Giant Baby Store was sofuckingannoying on every level. Not only do I think it's highly presumptuous to put a $300 stroller/carseat combo on the list, I find testing the items and being forced to choose one much like how I imagine having pins driven under my nails would feel. That sentence was a mess, sorry. I just really can't imagine needing all that stuff, and I also don't like comparing the features of two similar items and trying to figure out why one costs $30 more than the other. I know I should feel grateful. I do. It's just annoying, okay? My favorite part was when, after twenty minutes of pushing around, testing, jabbing, and possibly kicking some strollers, a sales guy wandered over and asked if we had any questions. My mom tells him we're trying to decide if the more expensive one is really worth it (and when I say more expensive, there were strollers still hundreds of dollars more expensive than this one!) and the guy, who looked like a nineteen-year-old community college student, expounds on the features and gives us the most generic speech ever. By the time he's telling us why this color is so much more popular than this color (therefore more worthy!) I had had enough. "Sold!" I said, and scanned the fucking barcode already, just so he'd shut up and we could move on. By this point, we'd already been there for an hour and a half.
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I have taken to holding my belly when I'm out so people will know it's not just fat. Totally intentional. But then I realize it feels good, even if it makes me feel completely matronly, which is not something I'm terribly familiar with.
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Last post I mentioned that our baby will be five months old when LOST comes back on. I just realized she will be a ONE YEAR OLD by the time we've elected a new president. Holy shit. (They really started early, did they not? I fear for my already politically-weary soul.)

braggart

So. I just wrapped up another term at the online university I attend. Guess what? I got 100% in both classes, which were Organizational Behavior and Technical Writing. Forgive me for sounding like an ass, but I'm beginning to think this shit is way too easy and that other folks are just that stupid. Or maybe I had easy professors this term? It confuses me a bit, but mostly I'm just so fucking proud of myself, because 4.0 isn't something I'm acquainted with. We're fresh and new, like doe-eyed lovers.

On another topic entirely, I cannot begin to describe how odd it feels to have your organs kicked from the inside. I swear yesterday the baby was having tea party on my bladder with my kidneys and liver. But then my liver had to go and talk smack about the lower intestines and the baby got what did they ever do to you and kicked that bitch. Or something like that.

I have an ultrasound next week because Dr. Sandra Oh But Hotter, while basically happy about it, is wondering why I haven't gained any weight. I was up two pounds at one point and at my last visit, back down to where I started. I know I sweated off two pounds at least during the move. Anyway, she wants to make sure the baby is growing. I know she is growing. My stomach feels like it's in my lungs, my lungs feel like their in my throat, so I know she's taking up more room in there. But I'm still wearing the same pants. I guess I can see why she's a little concerned.

We're closer to a name. Micah finally heard one that he really likes, which is more than I've gotten out of him so far. The race isn't over yet, though. There are several strong contenders. Sorry, can't share them yet. Soon?

OMFG. I'm due in two months from Friday! Our baby will be five months old by the time LOST comes back on! CRAZY.

but the cinnamon twists from taco smells were good!

You know what's really not fun? When you let your scalp get burnt right up there in the front where it tends to be thinner. And, you know, right there. This past weekend's little floating hellaciousness left me rather rosy (oooh, good band name) and the horrid results are now forcing me to wear my sunglasses on top of my head while I'm inside. Yeah, such a winner. I hate myself.

So what's worse - letting the layer of skin float above your scalp where it might freak some folks out, or start dismantling it and begin the frustrating process of freeing it from the strand? That's never ever a good thing to start, because the shit ain't stoppable. You can never find a happy resting place. There is always just one more piece of skin that completely gives you away. Wait, just this one more. Then you try other maneuvers, like violently frisking your hair to shake the bits loose. After enough of frisks you'll looking oily and frazzled. Sexay.

That sums up my Friday so far. Yours?

All swoll up.

Well. That was annoying.

What I mean to say is, we moved! It sucked royally. I think partly because I'm pregnant and partly because I'm an idiot who apparently doesn't know how to pack.

But here's the thing. I did 90% of the packing and preparing by myself. By the end of it I was so fucking frustrated at the shit that kept appearing that I was just throwing things in boxes with no rhyme or reason. Oops. I realize now that I should have been more firm and made Micah help me, but my initiator personality just takes over and I have to get it going whether I have help or not. It's the finishing I have a problem with. The first boxes' contents were carefully identified on the outside, and everything fit in the box just so. The last boxes? Well, last night I unpacked a purse, a sponge, 409, Avery's toenail clippers, a baby name book, and some dirty socks all from the same box.

Which is to say things went downhill right around T-minus 12 hours. We even had movers and the shit sucked royally. Why did my back and feet hurt so bad if we hired movers? Yo no say. I guess I did a lot more than I realized.

Which could be why my ankles are so fucking swollen. Yes. Swoll up like the 7-month pregnant chick that I am. It's kind of terrifying, seeing your ankles like that. I should have known that's why I had trouble getting my river sandals on this weekend, and why they gave me blisters on my ankles.

River sandals? Yes. We went camping and floating. I actually can't believe I've been friends with certain folks for twelve years and that was the first time we've gone camping together. A travesty, really. The camping was fun, but the floating was not. Besides blood shed, drowning, or a wicked case of the trots, traffic jams are a sure fire way to ruin a float trip. You could barely see the water there were so many people. There were literally thousands of floaters, which means tens of thousands of beers were consumed. And whoa, the tramp stamps. You've never seen so many in your life. Also? Guys get so much gayer when they drink.

Anyway, we all survived (barely).

We're still getting used to the new apartment. Meaning myself and Micah. Avery is in hog heaven. The yard is fenced and there's a dog that lives outside who belongs to the maintenance guy. At first the dog terrified me, but that's just his through-the-fence demeanor. He's all business until he realizes you live there, now he just wants to come in our place and score some cold water. There are several dogs in the building, which means Avery essentially has another dog park right in his backyard, which blows his mind. You mean there are furry friends to chew on and chase? All the time? Suddenly I'm totally boring to him.

Living on the first floor is a dream. I had safety concerns at first, as anyone living on the first floor in the city might. But basically there's a guard dog outside our bedroom all day and night, one who looks menacing and barks like a badass. I love that I don't have to haul my ass up and down lots of stairs every time Avery wants out. Love it. And when my arms are full of a baby and all her gear, I'll be very thankful that I only have eight stairs to climb instead of eighteen. That sounds so lazy, but whoomp, there it is.

Lastly, I feel very pregnant lately. I pee all the time, and little miss seems to think kicking my bladder when it's basically empty is hilarious. Cuz then I run to the bathroom only to eliminate about a teaspoon. Talk about annoying. People are finally saying I look pregnant, which is both fun and mortifying. Baby showers are in the works and ankles are swelling, so there must be a baby just around the corner. Whoa.