20 Weeks

20 weeks! You know what this means?

It means we're halfway to meeting our little burst of sunshine.

Halfway to having a daughter.

Halfway to solo showers and trips to the gym. Halfway to fewer diet restrictions, to sleeping on my back again, and to Easter Sunday attire being an event in itself again.

These days, we're working on ways to increase our income and get into new living arrangements. We're trying not to buy every cute baby thing we find. We are trying, quite unsuccessfully, to get a good night's sleep before August.

I can already tell I'm going to miss this when it's over. I feel like Superwoman, being the host for this miraculous thing, experiencing it firsthand. This fall, if I feel a "kick" in my belly, it will probably just be gas, and if that's not depressing, I don't know what is. Granted, I still have 20 weeks to change my mind and beg for an empty uterus, but screw you, future self! This is awesome!

She still moves like crazy. She seems to have adopted a "late to bed, late to rise" lifestyle, and I think I can handle that for now.

20 weeks down. Here's to 20 more, filled with sun & fun & good health & good vibes.

Girl!

Yaaaaay!

Little Baby Straily #1 is a girl!

Many of you may know that Justin was on Team Boy, but how upset could you possibly be when you learn who your first baby is? You can't be upset, and he can't even pretend to be.

I only thought he had turned all fierce protector before. He's already bracing himself for boyfriends and makeup and expensive prom dresses and "Great, just what we need... a daughter with my butt." ...In the ultrasound, her little tush did look just like his. It's pretty clear to me that she has his face, too, so at this point I'm just hoping she'll have my eyes? my brilliant personality? something? anything?

I may have promised him, like, 50 boys after this girl. May have.

Remember my last post when I said how active this baby is already? Multiply that by 10 and that's what life is like now. It's getting strong enough where I don't have to be trying to feel her move. She distracts me from tasks on the daily. (More foreshadowing, probably.) AND, for the first time, I saw her moving FROM THE OUTSIDE OF MY STOMACH, like there's actually something in there, living and breathing (sort of) and peeing (gross, right?) and moving.

Active and happy. Stretching all the time and, based on the ultrasounds, training to be the athletic/hiccuping champion.

I have been saying from the beginning that this baby will be a burst of sunshine, a ray of light everywhere she goes. When I woke up on the ultrasound day on Monday and checked my Bible app for the verse of the day, it was this:

"The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world." John 1:9

 I should say that this verse refers to Jesus, and I'm certainly not suggesting that my kid is Jesus. But how rad is it that, on the day we find out who our baby is, we get this verse that mirrors how we feel about our active little ball of sunshine?

She's perfectly healthy, and is right on track with her growth. Now we've just gotta watch and make sure she doesn't secretly become some 10 pound monstrosity and bust out of my stomach all horror movie style.

Mini Bump (I Actually Have One Now)

It's not officially spring yet, but Justin and I started some much needed spring cleaning yesterday. Our dog, Drey, loves it when we clean. He tries to attack the broom, but abandons that effort rather quickly when he discovers the interesting pile that the broom creates. "Cool! I had no idea that all this stuff was here!" The vacuum, however, is his sworn enemy and he has apparent orders to attack on sight.

We have a very playful dog, and I think that may be to prepare us for a playful baby. It's gotten to the point where I just have to lay back and give my little belly a poke and it's like a pitter-pat party in there. The baby is only big enough for me to feel it moving, but not big enough yet for Justin to feel it or for it to cause me any pain. Haha. (Though, based on our size, I'm sure the day is coming.)

Speaking of size, I'm at 17 weeks and two days, though I don't think I look quite that far along. I started getting worried that something was wrong, so I did some research. Apparently, a long torso like mine is the cause, and I'll likely not ever look quite as far along as I am. This news was a little disappointing, but comforting in that it means I don't necessarily have an underdeveloped baby. BUT! Also apparently, I will probably be able to avoid a lot of heartburn, back pain, and general discomfort when sitting or sleeping in the later months. I'm holding onto the hope that these are true for me. I mean, a bump is kind of like a badge of honor, especially considering all the crap you have to endure. Without that... pregnancy can kinda suck.

But let's not pretend like I've had it rough. The allergy attack nearly killed me, many times, over the last 3ish weeks, but then everything froze again for a second, and here I am, alive and almost cough-free. Yay! I'm constantly tired, but I figure this is the standard of living now, so I don't bring it up much. No parent wants to hear an almost-parent talk about how tired they are. They either roll their eyes or they laugh, or they cry because they've been tired for years.

Maybe being awake for so many hours a day has made time move slower than the garbage truck that just passed by should've been going, because somehow we still haven't gotten to the ultrasound where we'll find out who's cookin' in there. We should know in a couple of weeks (or less) i.e. A MILLION YEARS. If it's a boy, I suppose that's a good thing, because we started reconsidering our choice for a boy name, and THAT was stressful. Basically, it needs to be a girl. The next baby can be a boy.

Got that, little one? Be a girl so the next occupant in there can be a boy.

PHEW. Glad we got that sorted out.

The Curse

There's this thing that pregnant women do. New moms do it, too. Not all of them, but enough of them that this is actually a thing that's been studied.

When you're pregnant, your whole body is changing. Let's not even address the bloating and the growing belly. You feel nauseous when you think that should be long behind you. You get allergies for the first time in your life. You have to cut a bunch of food out of your diet, and you have to be extra aware of the foods you do eat, just in case you can't have those either.

Maybe you never had a sense of smell because your jaw wasn't in the right place and it actually prevented you from having a sense of smell until after you had jaw surgery. But by that time it didn't matter because you'd already lived 18 and a half years without one, so you never learned to rely on it. And at 23, you still can't walk into a room and know what's just been cooking like everyone else can, and it's weird to you that others can. And then you find yourself pregnant, smelling things you still can't identify but you just can't ignore because the scent is filling up your nose and mouth and lungs and head, and you can barely tell if it's a good scent or a bad scent because it's strong enough to just be bad regardless.

There are so many things on the What Happens To Your Body When You're Pregnant list that it would be a much shorter list if it just had the things that don't change.

Things That Don't Change When You're Pregnant:
1. Your name.
2. ...Your age.
3. ?

See? Much shorter.

SO, it only makes sense that a woman (or a not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman woman like me) would want to maintain a sense of control over her body and her life when all of it changes forever.

There's this thing that pregnant women do. New moms do it, too. Not all of them, but enough of them that I'm worried I'll be one of them.

They cut their hair. They chop it off. I don't want to do that.

Sure, some days I do. Some days, I'd love to have a short style. Maybe even for a couple of days. But that third day... The third day is the killer. I'm done with the short hair thing and I'm ready for the long hair thing. PROBLEM IS, the obvious. I'm not rich and famous and I don't have a team of people ready to make my hair look long when it's not.

I'll dye it. I'll dye it red or ombre or blue or something and lust over bangs I'll never get. But I won't cut it. I can't! I just can't.

None of this would be an issue if I didn't already want to change my hair.

In all of the crazy, I may feel a bit like I've lost control. I need something I can rely on to feel like myself, right?

RIGHT?

15 Weeks

Being pregnant is strange, don't you think?

There's totally a baby in there.

Today I am technically 15 weeks and a day, but I don't think that day makes a significant difference. (Maybe it does, though. I did not look like this two weeks ago.) It was pretty chilly outside when this photo was taken, especially in the shade with bare feet on the cold ground. I reminded myself that this will be one of the few bump pics in which I won't be sweating. (This advice to self didn't really help.) I didn't take a photo last week because I was feeling all blasé about taking a picture of a non-bump. I took one at 13 weeks, though, and that picture compared to this one has really shown me how fast this thing happens. You wake up one day looking bloated and you go to sleep that night looking pregnant.

Thursday, I went to the doctor because I was miserable with a cold/sinus infection thing. I was coughing my lungs out and my head was full of pain and my body hurt and I was sleeping NONE. Doc said it was irritation from ragweed, and that even though I don't have allergies, it can still bring a girl down. So, my almost-sinus infection was super rude all weekend, hanging out where it was clearly not wanted, but I have some antibiotics that have helped a bunch. Luckily, 'cause I really didn't want to go to the doctor obviously miserable and walk away with nothing more than a pat on the head.

Today, I've been teetering between feeling much better and not feeling better at all. I spent most of the day deep diving in Etsy and Pinterest looking for awesome things related to baby, because nothing really brightens up your day like seeing your mini-bump basically for the first time.

Our next appointment is the on the 18th. This is the day they'll schedule the next ultrasound, which means... We'll find out whether it's a little lady or gent that's causing that mini-bump! We were initially planning on having a gender reveal party, and those are all the rage these days. But, with every day that's gone by, we've become less and less willing to wait even a second longer than necessary to find out who's in this belly o' mine.

When we find out, I'm certain it will mark the end of me spending money on anything but that baby for the rest of my life.

............

Some Etsy faves from today:

 1. mermaid blanket
2. skull shoes
3. star mobile
4. hair clips
5. baseball dress
6. shark towel

I'm on a girl kick. What can I say?

Perspective

Two weeks ago, I was in planning mode. I survive on lists, and I was making only about a thousand of them. Since I haven't had a baby yet, I have nothing for babies. I decided I needed to research my heart out and make enough checklists for a lifetime. You know, so I would be prepared.

A week ago, I was exhausted. I had so many lists and so much information that I was stressed. Too stressed to keep it up. I threw away the mental list I had for all the lists I wanted to make. I was giving up, but not in the sense that I failed somehow to meet my goals. I gave up the ridiculous idea that I had to map it all out. Yes, I function better and accomplish more with lists. Yes, this is my first baby, and being overwhelmed is not a new or uncommon feeling. But making all these plans about what to do and when to do them (and so much more) is not even close to enjoyable. Not when there are so many things I can't plan yet.

This became about so much more than getting things done or being prepared. This became about how much I have to do still and how long I have to wait to do some things. It became about me and how stressed I am and how, out of 35,667 things to do before August, I can only do 3 of them now. It stopped being about how I'M HAVING A BABY. Hello! Perspective!

I had this same issue when deciding whether or not to have an epidural. Eventually, it became all about me and the stress and the pain and can I even do this and I know I won't want to do this and how strong I am and how the majority of planet Earth will not support my decision or help me to follow through. How do I change my mind without feeling like I've given up? Without feeling like I failed my baby before we even started this gig?

So, I decided to have one if they'll let me. And when I did, a HUGE weight was lifted off of me. Instantly, I realized how I had forgotten about the whole meeting-my-baby-for-the-first-time thing. I was surprised at how relieved I felt. I expected to feel disappointed, but I was more disappointed in the fact that I completely lost perspective. The whole debate had distracted me so much that I didn't even see how distracted I was. Ever since, when I think about the delivery, I wonder what it will be like to meet my baby instead of how much pain I'll be able to handle.

Really, that's one thing that has surprised me more than anything in this experience so far: You don't have to be perfect. My baby will not develop a third arm because I WAY overdid it on the (decaf) sweet tea yesterday. I will not be branded as a horrible mother because I don't make my own baby food. The world will not end if I have an epidural, okay? It just won't.

When I look back on my wedding and all the planning that took place, I mentally high-five my former self and all my friends and family. We totally did it, and it was totally rad. It wasn't a stressful experience. It was fun. Sure, there were some stressful moments, but I have to actually think about those. Someday, when I look back on my first pregnancy, I don't want to remember how stressful it was. I want to be able to mentally high-five myself again.

My baby won't ever thank me for having a stress-free pregnancy. But it he/she won't thank me for my attempt at perfection, either.

You're doin' fine, girl. Really.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day (or Friday, depending on who you ask.)

People have been talking a lot about Valentine's Day lately, naturally. Being a holiday lover, I've been really looking forward to it. Not in the sense that I'm hoping I have a super expensive and fancy date night or something, but in theory I'd like to make heart-shaped, love-themed everything and eat chocolate just because.

The thing I realized today, though, is that VALENTINE'S DAY IS TOMORROW and I am completely unprepared. Let's ignore the fact that I'll be at work during the day and won't have time to decorate a house in red, pink, and hearts just for the heck of it. I can assure you that I will not be waking up extra early to make heart-shaped pancakes or pink milk. (I'd have to wake up extra extra early to go to the store, because we are fresh out of milk.) I should also mention how dead I'd be if I ate nothing but sugary food and candy all day. That's not a good way to spend V-Day at all!

Does this make me the Valentine's Scrooge? I don't think so. I don't want to be branded as the Scrooge of anything, especially a holiday revolving around love. And, really, do you have to make your own themed cookies in order to love a holiday? No. No, you don't.

You totally don't have to be a baker to rock V-Day! Romance isn't just dinner and a movie. It's knowing who a person is, knowing what they like, and treating them just because you love them. I'd rather go to a theme park than have dinner by candlelight any day. (How could you possibly see by candlelight anyway? Which reminds me of how dark restaurants are getting these days. Seriously.)

The handmade gifts and cards and love notes, the home-cooked meals, the evenings curled up on the couch with ice cream - These mean much more to me than any fancy dinner ever has.

I'd swoon over being surprised with sweet tea. I'm not easy to please, per se. I just make it easy to please me.

What's your idea of romance? Are you more excited about V-Day or Friday?

On Food & Being Psychic

Nausea is kicking in again these last few days. What's funny, though, is that I'm finally starting to be interested in food. I was concerned there for a while that I would be repulsed by everything forever. And by "concerned" I mean devastated. My "cravings" were really just the only foods I could think about eating and not be disgusted.

 

It's kinda funny (and also incredibly tragic) how pregnancy can take a committed food lover and break her down into less than an eat-to-live survivalist.

 

I mean, baby needs more than potatoes, even though they are easily classified as their own food group in mama's eyes.

 

I've had to up my bedtime, or, really, give myself a bedtime at all, which is about as lame as it gets. No, no it's not. Having to up my bedtime again is as lame as it gets. I've been putting it off because of the lameness, but I can only be late to work so many times before I admit that the problem is not the traffic. It's that I need 3000 hours of sleep a day.

 

We recently finished watching Dexter (terrible ending) and started this video game about supernatural beings living normalish lives where you've gotta do some murder solving. I've always had crazy/vivid dreams anyway, but vivid dreams + serial killer shows/games + being pregnant = CRAZY REAL DREAMS about people being in your house at night and in your room and people being pregnant with octopuses and being surrogates for dolphins and even dreams about things that haven't happened yet. Then I get this déjà vu moment where I know I've seen this before even though I couldn't have, and I wonder if I'm crazy or psychic or what.

 

And it occurs to me that you have to be a bit crazy to be anything awesome, including pregnant and psychic.

HOLY CRAP THERE'S A BABY IN THERE

Baby Straily, due August 2014

I'm only 13 weeks in tomorrow, and this is already the best experience of my life.

No one tells you how amazing it is. They tell you to wait. They say it's hard. They tell you that you'll never sleep again and you'll worry constantly and that your entire life will change. You'll sacrifice all your energy and money and time on a child that will poop on you and ruin everything you own and probably tell you they hate you at some point. So why doesn't this stop anyone from having babies?

Because what they aren't telling you is HOLY CRAP THERE'S A BABY IN THERE and HOLY CRAP THAT'S MY BABY IN THERE and I JUST HEARD MY BABY'S HEARTBEAT OMG MY HEART JUST EXPLODED I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AAAAHAAAHHGHAHAH!

And this is why, despite income or living arrangements or I guess we should get a better car now, it's always a good time to have a baby. Maybe I'm human and maybe sometimes I'll forget the beautiful thing that's happening to me and focus on the financial burden or how tired I am already or how hard this will be. Hopefully, those moments are few and far between. (Or nonexistent.)

Because I'm having a baby with this guy I really love, and we love this baby so much already that I think we might explode.



I wish I could've taken a video of the ultrasound. I wish I could've recorded our little baby kicking and flipping around and getting the hiccups. I thought I would cry, but I mostly just laughed. I mean, what the heck?! My baby's in there!

It's totally just chillin' and sleeping and hiccupping and lounging and dancing. It has no idea how loved it is. (Or maybe it does. Maybe this is a Baby Genius situation and it - he? she? - is just taking mental notes of how crazy we are before it meets us.)

I feel like I've read every pregnancy blog and article on the whole internet, and I just had to stop. Eventually, you just read the same things over and over again, and you learn that everything you're experiencing is normal and also none of it is.

I don't even mind admitting how unseasoned I am at this parenting thing, this being my first baby and all. I don't need all the answers. (I'm not sure anyone ever gets them anyway.) I have breasts to feed it and arms to hold it and lips to kiss it, and that's all I really need.

 

 

 

 

(Someone please remind me of that often.)

Sixth Sense

Whoa. Kinda went MIA for a minute there. It's not that I haven't been doing anything, because I have. But I just wonder sometimes why I force myself to blog when I'm not feelin' it at that moment. I don't have to, you know. I learned that. But I do have an obligation to stick with something I started, right? If I'm gonna stop this thing, I have to make the decision to do so, not just fall off the planet inadvertently. Whatev.

I struggle with a quality-over-quantity issue. But I use this blog for more of a public journal than anything else, so what's the freakin' deal? I'm not going to write a masterpiece often enough to only post when I do.

I also don't want to be a Taylor Swift type where everyone is like, "She'll probably blog about this later," and roll their eyes and stuff.

I have this temporary office job now. I'm filling in for a girl (lady... woman... How old is too old to be called a girl?) who just had a baby. I like it and all, but it's taken me a little bit to not resent the job because I have to be there. I have to rip myself out of bed every morning before the sun even shines in my window and go to this place when I don't want to have to. Is that so wrong?

But complaining is SO 2013 and I'm not wanting to open that box every day, even though I crack the top a little bit. I'm thankful for a job when I need it. I'm thankful for a husband who wakes up before me for the sole purpose of turning on the heater in the bathroom and fixing my lunch and making breakfast for me and making sure I get up, even though he hears "but I'm so tired" and "it's so early" and "I can't go to bed at 8 every night just to not be tired right now" every morning from his whiny and half-asleep wife.

This summer, we've been married 4 years. I think it should feel insane, but it doesn't. It feels better than all the years before. I love him more than I ever knew I would, except this isn't the you're-cool-so-let's-be-together-forever honeymoon love. It's the kind where I look at him and I know him and he knows me, and I value the choice I made back then more now than I ever have, more than I could have when I walked down the aisle.

Weddings are great, but I've come to love anniversaries more. Attending other weddings is fun and beautiful and I think YOU ARE AWESOME FOR THIS! GO YOU GUYS! And then I want to flash ahead really fast to their first and fifth and tenth and twentieth anniversaries. Because you toast to the future, but then you learn first hand that the future is hard and everything has changed but nothing has changed. Life is still life and you are still you, except now you have this other person there all the time. And slowly, I've learned why I made that commitment, even though I didn't quite know why at the time.

Love, you know. Maybe it's a sixth sense.