It's the end of the world as we know it...and I feel fine!

Okay, perhaps it's not the end of the world. It is, however, the beginning of some heavy duty stress. With my beloved baby girl, Moira, reaching 9 months of age - I now have another one on the way. We're super happy about that, by the way. I have yet to figure out how to factor in another child. Moira is quite the handful and takes up the majority of my day. Add in the "sleeping sickness" (as my mom calls it) of the first trimester fatigue and I am one tired camper. Still, we're so happy to be blessed so extravagantly by God. 

 I am trying to walk a little more each day, stretch a bit more each day and eat good things. For those of you who don't know me, I have some food allergies. Okay, a lot of food allergies. Pregnancy requires a restrictive diet, too. I'm also still nursing my daughter and have to avoid certain things for her until I stop nursing. All of that equals a very difficult time trying to figure out how and what to eat. 

Current favs include: avocado  tomato and Italian dressing together, popcorn, sweet potatoes and...heaven help me, I could kill for Captain D's. I bought a box of battered cod to bake in the oven thinking it was the same. I gagged on the first bite. This baby SPECIFICALLY requested Captain D's...  I hope this baby likes disappointment... 

On a fun note, we went to the zoo today. For free! Had so much fun. My man and I decided we needed more family outings. We have some great parks nearby. Picnics are great, so we'll definitely be doing that again soon. Even if it's not the zoo - it's still family and being outside. 

Sorry for the randomness and the serious lack of updates for 9 months. As I've said before, Moira is a handful. Not an excuse - just a reason. Have a great week folks! 

When are you due?!

Sure, I've been MIA for a while, but I'll address that later. Today I want to discuss due dates. What exactly IS a due date? What does it all mean? I will answer that in 3 time frames. Shall we? Yes! Let's...

Newly knocked up:
Oh my goodness, how exciting?! You find out you're pregnant!!! Doctors confirm and calculate your due date. In my case, they had to calculate 2x. They first thought I was further along than I was, so the first was Dec 7th... You know, the day that will live in infamy? Pearl Harbor Day. Incidentally, my grandfather was AT Pearl Harbor that day. Clearly he made it out, thus my ability to blog. ;) The second due date, after my first ultrasound, became January 13th, which is indeed tomorrow - and a friday the 13th. Why not?! You don't really "FEEL" pregnant, so the due date is sort of a badge of "proof" that you are, indeed, knocked up. A date that seems forever away and almost unattainable, but something to provide hope and a finish line.

Mid to late knocked up:
Are we there yet? It's taking FOREVER!!! Of course, there are still a zillion things to do and finally you have some energy to do them...kinda... The due date becomes a deadline. As the months count down and your girth ramps up, you realize how very real it all is. By now you feel the little bugger kicking the crap out of you and putting demands on your food intake, bathroom needs and nearly ever other facet of your life and she isn't even OUT yet. Though there is so much excitement as you look ahead, there's also a bit of fear. If she controls so much now, what is she going to be like once she's here?! Doesn't matter now, does it?! It's done and it's ON! And so you sail ever closer to that iceberg hoping you stay afloat and you've got enough time to get all that you need to do, done. Deeeeep breath. Take a lot of them. You're going to need them.

Game time:
You're going to the doctor ALL the time now, it seems. You have never been so excited to see a pee cup in your life until this stage when you show up for your appointment. Your only fear is overflowing it. That's not fun for anyone involved... Fetal monitors, ultrasounds, personal violations to check for possible dilation, attempts to speed the process along, etc... Week after week, something invasive and sometimes unwelcome. I'm thankful that my folks know to do first, explain later and apologize during. Especially the super unpleasant things. Due date? Tomorrow. What does that mean? Freakin' nothing. At all. Its at this stage you realize that the "due date" is a rough generalization, an average, that really has very little bearing. What you saw as a finish line, was merely a "good luck, you'll probably go later...sorry". Seems first births take a bit longer. The 40 weeks that you're told are how long a pregnancy takes...it's an average between the shortest average and the longest average. What you thought was a finish line...it's not. I'm constantly being told that I can't be pregnant forever, but I'm not sure Moira accepts that information. She is a touch on the stubborn side... I'm blaming her father for that. HA!!!

Well, if nothing happens between now and my appointment on Monday, I believe we'll be inducing. So FINALLY an end in sight. Watch her wait til the last possible moment to start something... Precious little heifer of mine.

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting...

...or at least Moira has been the last day or so. We switched from flutter to kung fu in a matter of moments. If I press in, she kicks back in defiance of the invasion of her space. Granted, she doesn't have a lot of space to do much and it's certainly going to decrease as she increases. What started my beloved Jackie Chan wannabe off right? Jubala's hot chocolate. She was already stretching and such, but it took some of the best hot chocolate around to get her going. Truly a girl after my own heart. Chocolate saves lives....other people's lives. :)

I have definitely begun to experience the "you should expect this" shortness of breath recently. You can just do a normal walk around a grocery store then all of the sudden you have to stop because you're having issues breathing and your heart is racing. Super fun...or not. A friend at work keeps reminding me that I'm running a marathon on the inside to grow my little, picky girl. Having experienced Asthma for many years, it feels somewhat like that minus the panic involved in closing airways. I think it's probably a good thing that I can recognize the difference or the ER folks would be mighty sick of me by now. HA! I just stop, slow my breathing and wait. It all settles down in a few minutes.

On the upside, Moira is a little less demanding on food right now. That's a huge relief. I know she'll pick back up and it's not like I still can't dismember half a chicken in a few short moments - still, a tiny reprieve is a welcome change. Even if only for a few days. I'll take it. Who knows...maybe I'll only need one breakfast today... ;)

It's a girl!!! ....and i'm in trouble.

So yes, we've found out that our baby is a little girl. Her name is Moira Carolyn. So 2 things:


1. We've received a lot of flack about the first name. My man and I are undaunted. We've both loved the name since each of us, independently, were little so there's no chance in changing it. What amuses me, yes I'm genuinely amused, is that people somehow think that their opinion will change the decision of the people who are actually having the child. That somehow they are intimately involved in the intimate... My husband and I struggled on boy names but the girl name we both KNEW immediately. Much prayer and time went into the name, but still we knew from the beginning (at least from the time that plus sign showed up on the little stick) that if it was a girl, her name would be Moira. With my man being so vehemently against nicknames or shortening her name somehow, we've been helping some family and friends learn how to say it. In case you wondered, it's pronounced like Moy-Rah. 2 syllables. Easy-peasy. Think Irish while pronouncing it and you're all good. :) My main question is, "Why does it matter what someone else names their child?" It may not be common but it doesn't fall into the list of absurd made up names or re-pronunciations of brand names... I genuinely don't understand. Anyone have insight? Bring it!

2. I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO not ready for this baby. I have quietly passed my halfway mark. For those of you who don't know what the heck that means, I'll break it down. It takes 40 weeks from the time of conception to the time of birth...roughly. Obviously few babies are right on that 40 week mark, but that's the average. I passed my 20 week mark last Friday. The closer I get, the more not ready I become. Even though I'm sure, at some point, that I will reach a place where I just want this pushy, hungry little girl out - I still won't be ready. Even when I have her in my arms, I'm still sure I won't be ready. I'm not looking for encouragement, or the "You'll be okay". I know all of that, but the thought that somehow God felt that I could not only be trusted to HAVE a child, but then raise it to be a functioning part of society is terrifying. I know He knows me...but for real?! He doesn't make mistakes, yet somehow I still need to question Him. Then there's the whole "Paying for my raising" part that just scares the crap out of me. I already know she's stubborn. Will I have it in me to out-stubborn her or will they have to invent a new word to properly embody that level of stubbornness. I don't even know what to do with a baby. The last baby I took care of was my cousin's who is now in his 20s... I so wish I were kidding. Granted, I'm married to a man who was born to be a daddy and all these things are just naturally there for him - but he won't be there the whole time and I may just have to cry with the baby at times. How often will this baby look at me and think...."did I roll snake eyes on the parent pick or what?!"? I suppose we're stuck with each other... Perhaps I'm thinking too far ahead for the moment. Maybe I should just enjoy being woken up by a dancing baby girl (that tickles like crazy at this stage) who just needs to get her breakfasts (yes, plural) on and just take it as it comes...


Okay... I need chocolate milk STAT! Let's do this thing...

This baby hates me and it has taken over my mind...

Apparently, just screwing with my food isn't enough. I can't just have strange cravings, weird combinations and constant eating habits...nooooooooooooooo, now the baby has extended it's tiny little grasp to my brain. Out of nowhere come random songs that get stuck in my head, most of which I haven't heard in decades. We're not going to discuss how many decades have passed, etc. - In case you were hoping...Not gonna happen. 

The first offense was a few weeks ago when the original Winnie the Pooh theme song got stuck in my head. I didn't even know I knew it! It was in there ALLLLLLLLLL day!!! Nothing helped. I had to sleep that one off. Then, yesterday I had the song Baby Baby by Amy Grant trapped in there....Oh sweet Jesus make it stop!!! I was getting desperate while extensive pleas and prayers went unanswered. As though that were not a great enough offense (people, I even tried to get It's a Small World stuck in my head to relieve the horror that was the prior song...no joke) today we have the Cabbage Patch commercial jingle stuck. What the crap?! 

Why does this baby hate me?! I feed it (constantly!), give it vitamins, protect it from harmful chemicals and people...and THIS is the thanks I get in return - rapidly approaching insanity on a whole new level. I've been a little crazy (keep your comments to yourself - you know who you are), but this overshadows that on a scale I've never seen before.

January can't get here fast enough... Ugh...

I used to love to eat...

Oh I remember the days when I'd work long hours on just what I had for breakfast then meet friends out for an amazing dinner of flavor-filled wonders. How I miss those days... Now, my days involve 2 breakfasts, 2 lunches, 2 dinners and a few snacks thrown in for good measure...only because it shuts the baby up. I think I'm reaching a point where Hobbits would be disgusted with me. If I haven't yet, I'm certain it's coming quickly.

My day began with a protein shake, followed by muffins with milk an hour or so later. It's tough for me to eat when I first get up...apparently the baby doesn't get that. Nor does it understand that I actually do have to work, run errands, etc...which means that sometimes food gets delayed. After the muffins, came soup (tomato with ritz crackers filling the bowl til soggy). Then another bowl of soup right before filling in at work for 3 hours this afternoon. I was forced to break into my freeze dried asian pears whilst at work. Once I got home, I downed a V8 and began making dinner. Chickeny, noodley goodness in vast proportions. I'm sitting here knowing that in another hour or so, I will be forced to eat again, then more milk before bed (maybe chocolate) just so I can start again in the morning. Granted, I can't eat a lot at a time, but I find myself making extra so that I don't have to cook so much the next day. It's pitiful and I know it's going to get worse. Instead of eating because I loved to eat and enjoy flavors, textures, and the whole dining experience I find myself consuming whatever will quiet the beast.

This is nuts...Mmmmm...too bad I can't have those. Stupid food allergies and my apparent need to try and keep the baby from having them.

I think that's why you begin to feel the baby move around this time (which I did a few days ago and it was AMAZING!!!!)(once I realized what it was. HA!) so that women are more likely to keep foraging at regular intervals without giving up all hope of a future waistline. Somehow God decides we should be reminded why our waistline is disappearing into that huge "b" shape we'll be sporting for months to come. I figure I'll get kicked in the ribs about the time I think I am "done" with this whole eating 24/7 thing. Yet another reminder that the Mad Scientist owns me, controls me and mocks me. Just wait til you get out... lol

Payback

My mom and dad-in law visited this week and it was awesome. I really do love spending time with them and it's so easy to see how they could produce such an amazing fella as my beloved. Being...well, mega poor makes their (or my parent's visits) quite a treat because then we get to actually eat out...like REAL food I didn't cook. As MS (Mad Scientist, chilling in my abdomen) not so gently sucks the energy out of me, I have come to better appreciate not cooking. :D Now, I love to cook. I really, really do. It's one of my favorite things, however, when you've woken up from your afternoon nap after work...you just don't wanna. Most of what we get when we go to eat out are things I don't normally cook anyway. The un-fun part is when everyone looks at you like, "What's the baby want?". I don't know. It doesn't know. MS is pretty clear on what it does NOT want, but the other is a little sketchy. Now, there are times when MS knows EXACTLY what it wants...like YESTERDAY so get on it, woman! Most of the time it's more a process of elimination.

One of my favorite parts of being knocked up is when I eat, every flavor is so new. It's either the best thing EVER or must exit my mouth immediately. I think it might be a bit of a bummer post knockedupedness (it is a word...for me. Let it go, grammar police peoples. I love it and will keep it) when I go back to the usual...eh of flavor. I have thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering food. Relax, people...I am still fitting through standard doorways and after the dr visit yesterday I'm actually down some weight since i last convinced myself to locate and exercise a scale (I refuse to have them in my house...they're evil and make people do/say/eat stupid things).

Okay, Dr. visit. First, they were super nice folks. Second, they DID warn us it would be a LOOOONG visit. The visit was said to take 3-5 hours. What they should have said was it'll probably be longer...pack food. So we arrive a few minutes early for our 815 am appt. The lobby was packed full of what I love to call "fat with baby" people. It is fascinating to see all the different sizes and shapes of those protruding baby bellies. Like God was just having a blast when He worked all of that out. First, He makes us look freakish (sorry people - nothing normal about the shape of us pregnant women. Sure it's beautiful with the new life making and all that junk, but really - it's a touch on the creepy side as my mirror daily reminds me), but then He also made us hormonal so if anyone DARES say something they will be obliterated and no one will speak up to save them. Too funny. I'm thinking if pregnant women were put into battle...the planet would both be lost and repopulated in a short time. lol. There is some crazy, dangerous stuff about the workings of a knocked up mind. Emotional control? Psh...haven't seen that in months. I think it was lost with my filter.

Sorry, back to the Dr appt... So, 5 hours and 37 minutes later we left having been instructed on proper nutrition (which is kind of a no-brainer, I would think), i was properly violated, my medical history and that of my man were documented and we got to hear the MS's heartbeat. They only looked for one. Apparently it took a 2nd try as the MS was uncooperative (am I surprise?! nope).  They said if there were more swimming around in there, we'd find them at the ultrasound in July. Yikes...  

So MS prefers sustenance on a bi -hourly basis. After 5 and a half hours, MS was more than a little mad. By the time we got out of there, we grabbed food and came home for a loooong nap. Then we were thinking dinner. We were thinking brick oven pizza from this gourmet market down the street. MS had revenge in mind... After replacing the phone charger cord with a non-chewed in half version (thanks to the puppy who is becoming immune to Bitter Apple spray...), we were set to go for pizza. All of the sudden I looked at my man and said - MS says no pizza. The thought of it made me ill. Instead...I wanted...(holding back tears)...SALAD. Salad is the food that food eats. It's not food. It might be a side dish, but it ain't food (sorry - had to go southern there for a moment). We went to whole foods for their salad bar (because I RARELY have salad fixings at home). Oh MS was mad and payback was to be HUGE. The little bugger even refused to allow MEAT on the salad. Oh it was personal... I knew it the moment I saw the glorious grilled chicken and realized it wasn't going to happen that it was personal. So my salad had greens, carrots, olives, tomatoes,  cheese (because MS is a slut for the cheese) and dressing. I was mortified. Sure i had a little fruit on the side, but MS had certainly made it's point...loud and clear. MORE snacks, less hunger....BRAT...

Though I'm not sure what I expected. It is MY spawn....