Part One: Baby Shower, Part Two: Something men don't want to read

A recap of the last couple days? Don't mind if I do.

Saturday after I posted my enlightening blog about sleeping positions, I went to my second and final baby shower. It was awesome. Lots and lots of lovely people. Lots of lovely presents. And check out these decorations!

Is that not the cutest baby shower in the world? Well, of course I think it is. The husband and I met (for all intents and purposes) during the show "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown." He was Schroeder, I was Sally, it was love at first sight three years later. Since then, I've done the production a total of three times and was also in a production of "Snoopy!", so you could definitely say that Peanuts has been a pretty consistent marker in our lives since 2006.

Also, would you please LOOK AT THIS CAKE?

Gah! It just slays me.


It pretty much goes without saying that we made out like bandits, but in case there was any doubt at all, here are some pictures of all our crap.

Yeah. We did good.

The nursery seems to be in good shape as well.

So, crib, bassinet, changing table, and car seat? Check.

All we need now is a baby.

Which leads me to the section of the blog that should make all men run in terror. It certainly did my husband. So if you continue to read, don't say I didn't warn you. Because I did.

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment (all the men that thought they could handle whatever I was about to say just fled the blogosphere). It was one of THOSE doctor's appointments. And, you know, I was actually a little excited about it. See how far we've come, how far we have to go still. Get a general idea of when The Peanut will arrive. Besides that, I had had one the week before. What did I have to fear?

After getting back to my lonely, cold exam room and stripping down (by the way, is there even a point to those little cloths they give you to cover up with? They might as well rip off a sheet of cellophane and hand it to you. Sheesh) I literally had time to read an entire issue of People magazine before my doctor got there. She finally ran in and immediately got right down to business. And I when I say business, I mean business. There was actually a point in the exam when she said, "Whoa. Baby doesn't like that." What? You have your hand in so far that the BABY felt you and hit you? So she finally finishes, she simply says, "One centimeter." I went through all that for one lousy centimeter?

So I finally get out of there, grab my husband, and run out the door. Well, not run. More like waddle like I'd been riding a horse for three days straight. Then I hand him the keys and say, "Will you please drive? I feel slightly traumatized."

You know the seven stages of grief? I think I had the seven stages of post cervical exam.

1. Shock
2. Contractions
3. Profound sadness
4. Loss of innocence
5. Urge to beat husband because, really, this is his fault
6. Anger
7. Fits of uncontrollable laughter caused by anti-jokes (Why did the clown fall out of the swing? Because he was shot in the face) and pictures of baby shower cakes. 

I still don't know what exactly happened yesterday, but I'm hoping the seven stages will help me eventually piece it all back together.

Rock Paper Scissors

When you are pregnant, before going to sleep you must decide between three ways of laying down. Let me explain.

If you are having heartburn, you need to be propped up.

If you want to breathe, you need to lay on your side.

If your feet and ankles are swelling, people demand that you prop your feet up. Demand.

The problem is, if you did all of these things at once (which most of us really need to do), you end up looking like this:

Or, if you're really confused:

So it really becomes a game of rock, paper, scissors every night. It's a rotating game, really, since you never know when your desire to breathe will overcome the desire not to throw up stomach acid a little in your mouth which trumps that you don't want to tell people that, no, you didn't prop your feet up.

Well, we're off to the races today. First Saturday in December is when we celebrate the husband's grandma's birthday every year and this year we've also decided to cram in the baby shower. Ah. Life.

God Agrees with Me. Read About the Fall.

I had a chat with a friend of mine earlier today. I'm finding that it may be necessary to remind older moms what first trimester was like and to educate those who have never enjoyed the wonderland that is throwing up in a mexican restaurant bathroom. I also think that this post is important to all those poor mothers-to-be who feel like people just don't understand how they feel. I do. I understand how you feel. And I have to write this post before post-deliver endorphins attack my brain and take away all the memories I have of every terrible thing about pregnancy.

I found out I was pregnant because I took a pregnancy test as a joke. No kidding. It was not magical (although... I'm not sure how peeing on a stick can be that magical to begin with). I was blessed to have a good friend there to keep me from throwing myself down the stairs, though. So that was a definite plus.

First trimester is hard enough, but I have a serious special place in my heart for all of you out there who weren't planning a pregnancy. Some pre-moms have the opportunity to struggle through letting go of their independence and, really, dignity (and if you've ever been to weekly gyno appointments, you know exactly what I'm talking about). Not you. You get to wade through a sea of hormones, trying desperately to find that island of sanity so that you can accurately assess your situation and how your life is about to change. And when you do find that moment? You cry. And then you cry because you're crying. And then you cry because you're a bad mom. Yes, all of these things happen.

Then comes the sickness. For those of you who had no sickness at all and bursts of energy, I say this: Shut up, because we all hate you. You might still be our friend, but we hate you. Would you say to someone who had no legs that you are so happy that you entered a jump roping competition? No. You would not. So don't say it to us. And don't tell us to eat crackers. God love you, we know that crackers make people feel better. We aren't brain dead, just... swimming through a cloud of intense emotions. Instead, ask us if there's anything we require. Such as crackers. Or soda. Or ice cream. Or money.

So first-trimesterers, unite! Start letting people know how you feel! Don't just lay down and take it! Well, you can lay down, since every day you will feel like you have just ran the New York Marathon after eating 3 bowls of clam chowder, but don't take it! It's ok to let people know that, while you totally believe that they felt that way during their pregnancy, you most certainly do not. And loving pregnancy does not equal loving baby. Loving baby equals loving baby. If they protest anymore, refer them to Genesis while shouting, "God agrees with me!!!!!!!!"

Maternity Leave: Day 2

I went ahead and started maternity leave early because of all the contractions this little bug is giving me. I hope he decides to come a little early so that I don't waste 3 weeks without him here.

As a result of said maternity leave, I have decided that what I would really like to do is to become a stay at home mom. Not really because it's a noble profession (even though it is) but more because I love getting up in the morning and working at the house and KNOWING that I do not have to work at another job later. I wish we could afford it.

The only thing that could possibly make this feeling go away is a great job in St. Louis that has to do with my degree. Because leaving the house to go to work doesn't really feel like work when you love what you're doing.

Also because of maternity leave, this has finally happened:

Still a couple odds and ends that need to be picked up

Snoopy Crib and changing table

Clothes and diapers all put away

It looks great and actually got me excited instead of causing me to be paralyzed with fear. This is a positive step, people.

The Groper List

First of all, can I just say that I have been having intense contractions on and off for about two weeks? Can I say how frustrating that is? Because they need to be REGULAR! This morning my mom called and asked if I was having any pain. I said in a depressed way, "Not really." And she said "Shoot." Isn't it terribly sad when you're mourning your lack of pain? I wish I had severe stomach cramping lasting for 1 minute every 4 to 5 minutes. Then I wish that I would basically wet myself. It would make me the happiest woman alive.

Now, on to what I came here to tell you about. If you are already pregnant and have told anyone about your bundle on the way, you already know these people. If not, then consider yourself warned.

There are several different types of belly gropers, but two stand out above the rest.

1. The hesitant groper
This type of groper constitutes almost all males (including my dad) and most women with whom you are only acquaintances. This is the most considerate groper, because they are not sure whether or not you are actually in the mood to have a hand on your stomach and are "dipping their toes in the water" so to speak. Fingertips only for this groper.
The problem with this groper is that they fail to realize that while your stomach may be protruding 8 inches from the rest of you, it still does contain nerve endings.  And if you're ticklish at all, the intense need to slap the person immediately washes over you. Be warned, though, said slapping or even quickly movements away will send the hesitant groper into a beaten puppy state. Which will make your pregnancy hormones overproduce, sending them cascading out of your eyes in the form of tears. And before you know it, you're apologizing to the person who just rubbed their fingertips all over your belly like a weirdo.

2. The petter
This person is the person you run from at the grocery store. A glimpse of you will simple incite a squeal of glee and the person will run to you with their hand outstretched as if a baby magnet was implanted in her palm. They will then stand with you in the middle of Wal Mart rubbing your belly as if it were a magic lamp and talking to you about arbitrary things.
The problem with this sort of groper is obvious. The awkward level goes through the roof. Besides the fact that you're generally already hot and uncomfortable. Sometimes this person just needs to be reminded that they are not actually touching a baby. They are actually touching your stomach.


 

One Year Mark

Well, today marks one year since I started this crazy journey. I did not succeed, but I still feel really successful. I'm going to keep the list of books up and still cross them off as I go, but I have so much more going on in my life now that I just think setting these nearly unattainable goals is distracting me from what is really important.

I have been considering changing the name to my blog for a while. I love to read, and I have really missed running, but I think I'm turning a corner in my life where these things are not going to take the kind of priority that they used to have.

What I actually have been wanting to write about really centers more around pregnancy and motherhood- especially as it pertains to my generation. Throughout this pregnancy, I have been plagued with the idea that I'm all alone in how I feel. This isn't because there aren't a wealth of forums and blogs out there about being a mother, but because they are really missing the frank-ness that I have felt throughout this pregnancy. It's not all roses. Sometimes when someone tells you, "It'll all be worth it," you really want to punch them in the teeth. I understand that it was totally worth it for you. I really really believe and hope that I will feel the same way. But does it always feel like it will be worth it?

Sometimes it's really a matter of the time we live in now. Thirty years ago I imagine that adoption was not as popular as it is now. In fact, from what I gather, it seemed to be a last resort. But now, it's basically in vogue. So when you're throwing up in the toilet at El Torreros and basically scarring the little girl for life in the stall next to you, sometimes you wonder how this can all be worth it when I could fly to Nigeria and basically buy a child.

I know it's a lot harder than that-- but time consuming just doesn't compare to miserable suffering in my book. Because, let's be honest, for most of us, pregnancy is gross.

I have finally, after a long, long, almost 9 month journey, begun to realize that my child is precious. I can't help it that it took a while, and after much prayer I finally felt like God was telling me that it was ok to have struggled with pregnancy and motherhood as much as I did. No one can ever make me feel guilty about my feelings. Child bearing is really quire terrifying- even more so when you didn't expect to be harboring one for another 5 years or so.

I'm sure I'll revisit a lot of these themes later on, but I did want to give a little introduction as to the path of the blog (probably from now on). It will be interlaced with jobs and goals and other family and friend matters, but I'm realizing now that the little peanut will always be at the center of my life from now on.

It's feeling a little more ok every day.

Revamp for a New Life

There is no way I will finish reading by November 14.

And I've decided that that is ok.

In one year I have read the Bible, a Jane Austen novel, Shakespeare, and a wealth of devotionals and just flat out interesting books. I am not ashamed.

I will keep reading and I will keep the list up so that when I finish one hundred books I know it. I'm really just proud of what I have done in any case. Daily life has just taken over all my spare time. Once again, that's ok and even awesome. I started this list because I wanted to feel like I had accomplished something in a year. I did without reading all 100 books.

We are only 52 days away from a new baby and I have decided that that is 52 days to start a new life where a baby will feel like it's being raised by grown ups. I want Noah to see that his mom knows where she is headed and how she will go about accomplishing it. I'm done picking up arbitrary things to complete myself or make people pat me on the back. From now on, this blog is all about honesty. How I succeeded, how I failed. It's going to be real. And, from there, hopefully I will develop some sort of theme that could get some readership. But if I don't, that's ok too.

Something I did want to share with anyone still reading (if you're not, I totally don't blame you), is a website I've stumbled upon that's really helped me reevaluate what is important and what all I can get done during the day. It's www.dailyfeats.com. It takes average everyday things that we sometimes put off and assigns point values to them. Every 30 days you can redeem your points for gift cards ranging from $10 at Starbucks to $50 at American Airlines. I am more than determined to pay for me, Noah, and Jordan to fly to Virginia for Jordan's graduation from Liberty University. The next step will be using it to buy Christmas presents for family! Check it out. Even if you don't use it as religiously as I do (I get a little bit obsessive), it would be worth it to every once in a while reach 5,000 points and be able to grab a coffee with a friend (and pay for their coffee!) or buy an album from iTunes.

I think that's it for me today. I have many planned feats today that I want to make sure I accomplish! Love those points!