No Really, its a .....

BOY! Wow, were we fairly surprised. Because despite my stating that I wasn't leaning one way or the other, I really thought I was having a girl. I'm a girlie girl through and through. I would be fine with a house FULL of girls (though Mat might explode from estrogen overdose). Dresses and makeup and hairdos and jewelry and pink stuff!! What am I gonna do with a boy?! I don't know anything about boys, really. How will we bond? What will we have in common? How do his parts work? How does his mind work? How do I do this?

And then. A few weeks have passed and I started imagining my little towheaded munchkin running around and I let out my breath. And then he started kicking, letting me know I need to accept it, and I started talking to him. He'll be a mama's boy and will be the light of my life and what the heck am I worried about? Mat can teach him sports, or maybe he'll be a smarty pants artist. Or both. Or neither. Whatever he is, whoever he turns out to be, he'll be mine and Mat's and no one else's. (Well, until he turns 30 and we let him out of the house.)

Otherwise pregnancy seems to be going great. It is amazing how your second trimester lulls you into believing that life might actually 'go back to normal.' I have energy, not too many aches and pains, and my only cravings seem to be for extremely disgusting cereal advertised to 5 year olds. I've been on a serious investigation into the disappearance of Eggo cereal from the shelves. If you are unfamiliar, please let me introduce you to pretty much the best cereal EVER. It's little pieces of sugar-laden highly processed corn puffs in the shape of tiny little Eggo waffles and tastes like butter and maple syrup. Holy crap it's good. I can't find these anywhere, but I'm willing to pay a reward to anyone who uncovers a box and sends it to me.

I've been through Apple Jacks (please see previous post) Cocoa Pebbles, Honeycomb, Reese's Pieces cereal (yes, exactly how it sounds, and possibly tied for best cereal ever) and am currently working through boxes of Golden Grahams and Marshmallow Pebbles. I'm also starting a movement for the comeback of Smurfberry Crunch cereal, which I remember from the 80's and was so good - seeing as how they have a new Smurf movie coming out it would seem appropriate, don't you think? Anyway, I'm able to keep pretty accurate records on the various levels of my cereal stores because I do not show these boxes to Katya and I'm pretty much the only one who partakes. These babies only come out late at night or in the morning after she's gone to school. They are so bad for her I would never allow her to eat them!

Other than my cereal fetish (which, if you know me, is not really out of character) I only have a few other minor complaints. Top of the list are the digestion issues as everything starts to get squished. I never even knew what heartburn was until now. Really. I had a hard time describing what it was until a lightbulb went off and got myself some Tums. Also, I have copious amounts of gas and it seems to explode out of me at the most inopportune times. This is quite embarrassing for me as girls are really not supposed to have bodily functions at all. The last incident was as I was picking up Katya at school. I went to the coat area to collect her things and it just so happened that every parent with a child was in the coat area at the exact same time as me. No one had a greater look of awe than I as I realized I was the host of a surprise fart party and the guest of honor just showed up. It happened so fast I couldn't repress the small jump I did (Whooo! as if the fart propelled me off the ground.) I ran, leaving behind scarves and mittens and my dignity.

The other issue is my smelly feet. It's really quite unreal. I've never had much of an issue with this before I was pregnant and now, I stink! And again, ladies should not smell, so this is really a jagged pill to swallow. All of my most comfy and supportive sneakers that have never before gotten odorous are so shockingly pungent now I have to leave them outside sometimes. What is this?!? Couple that with my superhero sense of smell these days and I literally can't stand it.

Needless to say, with all the combined above stated issues I'm not feeling incredibly sexy. On top of that, Victoria's Secret has gotten wind that I'm pregnant and has decided to up the after-baby motivation quotient and start sending me doubles of all of their catalog issues so I can browse often and reminisce about what I used to look like. Or maybe one is supposed to be for Mat as well? The Apocolypse will begin, however, the day I catch Mat looking. Although I have to give him credit. I did promise that my breasts would grow some more and they (still) have not lived up to the hype. And he hasn't said a thing except that I'm beautiful despite my constant body evaluation sessions. Good boy.

Though I was close to tranquilizing him on the day that we went to Babies R Us to register. First we had to listen to the 20 minute presentation on how, actually, to use the scanner gun. Which seems like overkill but actually is quite necessary for that complicated piece of machinery. Mat, already bored with the whole exercise, left after 2 minutes. Which meant that he didn't then know how to delete. And that would have come in handy, because I realized very quickly that he is trigger happy and I am clueless. Bad combination at the baby store.

We started at the closest thing, the breast pumps. And I froze. Within 3 minutes I was completely overwhelmed and nearly in a panic attack. We moved on and as I stewed over the pros and cons of the organic, eco-friendly Boppy cover vs. the cute green fluffy (though apparently toxic?) Boppy cover, Mat took off, disgusted with my indecision, and started just scanning things so he could get some use out of the gun. He literally was bouncing off the walls and his agitation was making me nervous. I then started making a list of all the things I needed to do research on first. And it turns out, I think I need to do research on everything from diaper pails to pacifiers to whether I need headphones for my tummy so Baby Bets can start learning how to speak in the womb or the electronic cry analyzer that will tell me if his cry means 'I'm hungry' or 'change my flippin diaper you lazy bum!'

The other issue was the company we brought with us, which seriously, duh. Katya came and wanted either for herself, her future brother, her friends, or me, every single thing on the shelves. Every. Single. Thing. 'Look at this Mommy, can we buy it?!' 'Ooo, we need THAT!' She'd pick it up, play for a second, drop it on the floor, leave it, we'd tell her to put it back, she'd whine, then finally say 'I can't reach it to put it back!' and over and over again. Oh my god.

We also brought Mat's mom, who, poor thing, was about as overwhelmed as I was. 'When I was having babies we didn't need any of this stuff! We didn't even have stores like these!' And I immediately longed for that nostalgic ignorance. I'd like things to go back to that, quite frankly. I mean, there is so much STUFF. If you have it all, you'd need a 10,000 square foot house and every moment would be a life altering decision of which device to use. If you don't have it all you feel like you are missing out on some great invention that everyone else has and really will save your sanity. I nearly had a meltdown, until I started following around another preggo and her friend with a baby and they seemed to have it all so pulled together. Sigh. We left shortly thereafter with maybe 10 items scanned and I set up a frantic Babies R Us date with my friend Loryn, sans obnoxious husband and crazy child.

So, let's recap what I need so far:

1. A boy name. We had Lola all picked out for a girl, and started doing all this stuff like taking a picture of a sign in Jerome that said "Lola's Place" and Mat got me Lola perfume by Marc Jacobs. We really were cute. Now, we are stuck between 3 boy names and are in a deadlock, with the oh so helpful input of our nearest and dearest. It's so interesting how we get lots of feedback on the names that they DON'T like. Not realizing, I suppose, that we may in fact choose that name and then we'll forever know how much they can't stand saying it.

2. Colors and designs for my nursery. Brown? Blue? Sports? (Uh, no.) Animals? Planes? How about books, art, and pictures of Paris? Yes!

3. Absolutely every possible thing for the nursery. Ditto for everything to actually care for the baby once it comes out of my body.

4. Motivation to get all this done.

5. Eggo Cereal.

Til next time!!

And It's A......

Green fizzy concoction that apparently is telling me I'm having a girl. Yes, I succumbed to the Draino test. Elisabeth brought it with her to the nail salon a couple of weeks ago, and as the rest of the girls got their toenails done I was forced to urinate into some random disposable vessel in the bathroom in the back and then do a hand-off to my best friend of my cup'o pee in full public display. Elisabeth finished the deed by pouring in the Crystal Draino - in a well-ventilated area mind you, due to the fact that you could DIE if you breath in these toxic fumes - and came back into the salon announcing "It's a girl!" This of course set the whole salon, including my favorite Asian nail technicians, a'twitter.

For more accurate results, stay tuned next week, where I'll be answering the questions..."What color should I start buying?" and "Are there twins in there, because I'm fat enough!" and "It's really a baby and not a food sucking alien liquefying my brain cells, right?" Ultrasound finally will happen at 20 weeks. Yay!

For now I'm dealing with the ever-surprising depth of my hunger....and diminishing brain power. I am finally gaining weight after a pretty light first trimester, and boy is it on. I am ravenous. Mostly for sweet things. I read that women crave carb-rich sugar laden foods as a protection mechanism to keep them from eating bitter, poisonous, bad for you leaves and twigs back in the caveman days. So I'm going with that story. I made the mistake of buying Apple Jacks in addition to my supply of High Fiber Flax Seed Bran Flakes with Wheat Germ. Guess which one I pick when my howling stomach wakes me up? Three bowls deep this morning and I finally had to reign in the beast. I'm not proud. (But I'm pregnant so it's ok! See below.) Suppose I need to cultivate my choices more carefully.

I'm not eating too terribly though. I have not allowed myself to cave to a daily ice cream fix or even too many holiday cookies with the frosting, or the fudge or peanut brittle that I love so much or .... all the visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. And I actually have made peace with vegetables again, although broccoli, once my most steadfast ally, will not yet surrender. But in spite of the salads and fruit, my body is holding on the every last calorie. It's just shocking to gain 5 pounds in a week, no matter how you slice it. Blame it on my fat baby...but still it's incredible.

Good news is I feel pretty darn good. That first trimester, man oh man. That's enough to make you swear off going through these shenanigans again. Fortunately it ends - isn't it amazing how God plans that? This whole thing is quite surreal actually. I know that this whole pregnancy thing is not some grand secret biological Davinci-like code that I alone have unlocked. But when it happens to you for the first time, you stand in awe (shock? I was looking in the mirror at my naked body at the time) of all the incredible, miraculous inner workings that perfectly synchronize to make a baby. It's almost impossible to wrap your brain around it. Though if I could wrap my mouth around it, I'd probably eat it.

Speaking of my body doing incredible things, there have been several adjustments to being the physical host to another person that I've had to get used to. Top of the list is the strange way my bladder has taken on a life of its own. It's not controlled by me anymore, is my point. I was sitting here a minute ago laughing at an article on Christmas Toys That Suck and, well, I peed my pants - and more than a little bit. And on my last trip to Phoenix, after several nights of rough sleep, I finally fell into this blissful respite with the only unfortunate side effect being that I did not wake myself up (during one of those "pee dreams" where in your head you're already on the toilet) to go to the bathroom and instead, did a full-on bladder release on the new mattress.

What's even crazier is that I'm not embarrassed to tell you that! If I have to deal with this kind of nonsense on one side, what's great is on the other side I get to blame everything I do on being pregnant and it's all ok. I pee on everything! And you all (women especially) nod and say, yup, I know, but you're pregnant, honey. I put the milk away in the cabinet and found the toilet paper in the fridge! And everyone chuckles knowingly. I act like a crazy person nearly all of the time! And in unison we all accept that its just the way things go when a little person inside you is siphoning off your brain cells to use them as her own. I love it!

Although one very unpleasant brain-loss episode happened recently that still has me reeling. You might have heard that I had an accident with Coco at the Chicago airport on a layover to Philadelphia. The gist is that I let her walk on the escalator and did not have the wherewithal to pick her up. Seriously, duh. I often can't time the fricking disembarkment right and end up tripping over my own stupidity, so what makes me think my dog can do this? You can see where this is going. In the chaos of the moment of ripping her lodged paw out of the moving escalator before it was swallowed into the abyss, I nailed my head on something -who knows what - knocking myself off balance and ending us both up in a heaping, whimpering, bloody mess on the airport floor. A bandaged, toe-less foot (on Coco) and black eye (on me) later, we finally boarded our aircraft four hours after the fact. Coco had drugs to settle her down. I had to spend the rest of the flight drowning slowly in watery guilt without the aid of chemicals. This was two weeks ago and I'm not even close to getting over it. It's been exhausting trying to keep my head afloat above the waves of remorse for so long.

The whole turbulent event has left me questioning my ability to parent. Honestly - if I can't even keep my dog out of trouble, how am I supposed to do this with a kid? And the guilt, my god it's oppressive. When an accident happens, how do you forgive yourself? What am I gonna do at the first banged head or - heaven-forbid - broken bone? It's so scary out there and my job is to protect those that depend on me for their safety, and I failed the test. I almost wish I could rewind back. Ha ha, oops, thought I was ready for this but I'm not! Better luck with someone else!

But there's no going back. I'm in this, and have to go through with it. And I suppose all I can do is my best, and leave the rest up to fate. I will learn from these lessons placed in my path. I will learn slowly, eventually, how to let go too, I guess. I know that there's a plan in all this chaos, here somewhere waiting for me to discover it.

Wonder if there's a cookie in there too...?

Do I Need Therapy? Nope, You're Just Pregnant.

I'm beginning to understand that it's pretty typical for a first time prego lady to question every waking second of her life. These questions have the following rotating themes:

1. Is there still a baby in there?

2. Why am I gaining so much weight?

3. Why am I not gaining any weight?

4. What the hell did I get myself into?

5. When will my husband start reading all of the very important articles, books and blogposts that I've been placing in front of him?

6. Is this really the most convenient way that God could figure out how to do this?

I had my second DR appointment on Wednesday so I have at least answered question #1 for now. For a few days until I start wondering again.

I am currently into the beginning of my second trimester, at 15 weeks of this slowly progressing journey. And for all those who've traipsed this road before me, I am officially into the "when will I start showing instead of just looking fat?" phase.

I'll paint the picture. I (still) do not have voluptuous breasts to give me the illusion of an hourglass figure. My belly is protruding, though it is not much past the "pooch" effect, you know, where you just look bloated and/or constipated - which of course I am as well. And my hips have widened enough (refer to question #6) to protest the putting on of my pants. Not that it matters because I couldn't button them anyway. Basically I just look like a girl who ate too many chocolate chip cookies. Though...I swear I didn't eat them all.

As far as my Dr goes...I'm not totally impressed. I suppose after years of seeing normal women turn into nutso knocked up freaks you develop a sort of armor. I would call it losing her bedside manner. I'm supposed to be seeing a rotating group of 3 female OB/GYNs in this practice so that I get to know each of them because I won't know who actually will deliver me. But I've met with the same one twice so far. She's by no means horrible, but she literally stands with her hand on the door as she asks me if I have any questions. Um, YES! I, for the first time in my life, have an alien being growing inside of me that is making my body do things that seem to defy physics! I have questions! But you standing with one foot out the door puts me under a lot of pressure so I can't think of any of them. Crap.

Not that it makes a difference, because apparently the standard response they teach you in OB/GYN school is 'yes, because you're pregnant.' As in, 'Is it normal to have all of this strange stuff coming out of different orifices?' 'Should my heart feel weird?' And 'Why is my butt acting funny?' She looks at me as if I were Jessica Simpson waxing on about Chicken-of-the-Sea and says 'because you're pregnant, Dumbass.' Well, she didn't say that last part but you know she's thinking it.

Currently the baby's heartrate is 143. She says it typical to be in the range of 120 to 160. The old wives tale is that the lower the heartrate, the more likely a boy, the higher, a girl. And of course I'm right in the middle which tells me nothing. Except as Mat says maybe we're having a hermaphrodite. Elisabeth has been pressuring me to do the Crystal Draino test which I have not done yet. Apparently you pee on caustic and dangerous chemicals and the toxic foam created will miraculously predict what gender you're having. Which of course leads to the question...who was the smarty pants that figured this out in the first place? (A nutso knocked-up freak is my guess.) I head back to Phoenix next week where I am positive Elisabeth will hold me down and squeeze the pee out of me so that we can see whether it turns rust brown or putrid green. I will let you all know the results.

I've been thinking a lot about question #4 lately. I wonder if it's because this pregnancy is my first, and it wasn't planned, waited for, tried for, that I'm still sort of in disbelief. I don't really feel like I'm bonding with the baby yet. It is so hard to imagine a life with another little human in it. One that is totally mine, totally dependent on me, totally the love of my life. I'd love to hear from my other ladies who've been through this. When does that part start? When I imagined myself being pregnant, I imagined singing to it (though it's probably best not to bring that idea to fruition) talking to it, rubbing my belly all day, feeling the love start to grow and grow immediately, with stars in my eyes and a Donny and Marie Osmond soundtrack playing in the background. I feel sort of disconnected, quite frankly. And it's not that we're not thrilled, because we SO are. Impending motherhood to a newborn seems incredibly scary. I haven't started sketching nursery layouts yet. I haven't registered for baby crap yet (I know several who had by this stage in pregnancy, yikes.) I haven't gotten his/her name on the best private preschool lists yet. Maybe I've just got my head in the sand.

I'm really excited for my next Dr appointment though, because it's then that we will do the ultrasound and find out the gender. And we definitely want to know, we've decided. So do we tell people the names we're working on, or not? I've heard horror stories from so many friends who told and had names stolen (that's just wrong, BTW), comments, eye rolls, catfights and duels to the death over names. I may just keep it to myself for a bit....

Other than all this, I'm starting to feel much better. I probably could start another ongoing debate about which is worse: throwing up throughout your first trimester or only feeling like you have to all the time without the release. I was not a happy camper, to the point where I convinced myself (I do a lot of this) that my current state of dis-ease was just becoming the standard for the rest of my life. I never thought I would feel better. Seasickness without the pleasure of the view. Even weird non-food things made my stomach turn, like thinking about checking my email or going to the grocery store. Anything that required a thought process was enough to make me woozy. (the phrase nutso knocked-up freak comes to mind again.) I can see why a lot of women, myself included, don't gain very much during the first 3 months.

I read about how really, all you need is an extra 200-300 calories. And my first trimester I was like, yeah, psshhht, of course, that makes tons of sense! It's almost hard even to get that many extra calories when everything makes your stomach lurch. This'll be a cinch! But now I'm feeling a TON better and I am hungry CONSTANTLY. I wake up in the middle of the night with hunger pangs. I eat a meal and then an hour later need another one. 200-300 calories, who are they kidding?! That's only maybe two chocolate chip cookies. Which is insane, because I'm like, 10 chocolate chip cookies hungry. And that doesn't even sound like enough. Good thing I just made a fresh batch...think I'll get on that.

I'm Certifiable

Hi all! I wanted to wait to write again until I knew officially, for sure, that I was pregnant. I mean, certified by an official person of the medical persuasion. And yes, that happened last week, so we can all let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I'm sure you all were as concerned as I was (you were, right?) that I might be making up all this preggo biz in my head.

If you recall in the last post, I had mentioned in passing that maybe I might be imagining the whole thing. And as the weeks passed, I stewed and stewed until I had convinced myself that all of my symptoms were psychosomatic. I'd read in my pregnancy book - you may experience a recurring metallic taste in your mouth - and I'd say, yes, I do believe it tastes like a dirty copper mine in my mouth. I must really be pregnant! But what threw me off was actually the stuff I read that wasn't happening. Most concertedly, that my boobs would start growing immediately due to all the hormonal changes. Uh, hello? When was that supposed to happen? I was worried about my lack of breast enhancement so much (especially as I continued to talk to many pregnant and post-preg women who all said yes, OMG, my boobs got huge right away, that's how I knew I was pregnant!) that I decided to take another pregnancy test just to make sure it still said YES. So with my DR appointment still a week or so away, while in Phoenix I took another one and sweated and waited to see if really, I'm just crazy. Well, of course it came back positive again, so what does that prove? That I'm not crazy and really am experiencing pregnancy symptoms, or that I am crazy for convincing myself even after 9 weeks that I'm not? It's a conundrum. But at least the most important part is resolved. I'm still having a baby.

I will say though, that at my dr appointment, before she had checked me out, I said - you know Doc, I'm kind of wondering because my boobs haven't gotten any bigger, if everything is normal? And she looked at me with an interesting look and said, well, that is interesting. But you took a pregnancy test, right? yes. And have you been experiencing other symptoms? Oh yes. Phew, well then, I think it's alright but let's check you out. SEE?! It is a concern that my boobs weren't bigger! I'm not crazy! I'll stop talking about it now.

In the next breath as she felt my stomach she said, holy cow, your uterus is huge! You're definitely pregnant! Which is nearly (sans 'uterus' and replace 'cow' with 'shit') what my dad said when he saw me for the first time. At 9 weeks, mind you. Which is exactly what every newly pregnant person wants to hear. I'm just kidding. It's not.

We also heard the heartbeat for the first time, which made me cry with relief that all of this really does have an end result in mind, which is to deliver that beating heart surrounded by freshly baked chubby goodness in about 6 and a half months or so.

Or maybe two beating hearts surrounded by two loaves of chubby goodness. Because despite the fact that twins are in neither Mat's nor my family background, I am now convinced that since my uterus is so huge there must be two in there. I will keep you posted on that as news develops. And obsess about it along the way.

We also have an estimated due date, and since I found out so early with my multiple pregnancy tests Doc thinks we are pretty right on. She says May 5th. But I then doth protest, because May 5th happens to be the birthday of the not-so-favorite ex-wife of my beloved. Seriously, God needs to work on his comedic timing. That one liner didn't even evoke a sarcastic chuckle. I am not pleased. So I am going to change the date to May 4th. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Also, in other just as exciting news, Mat proposed to me in Cape Cod 3 weeks ago! (All that pressure worked...thanks Mom.) Actually, I knew Mat had a plan even before we found out about the meatloaf and he was prudent enough not to give me (or my sister, or my mom) any details so that it actually could be romantic and special and everything I could ever want the moment to be. And it was. (Read more about the proposal if you dare here.)

So, to recap:

1. I am officially, certifiably pregnant.

2. I may be certifiably crazy as well.

3. Baby due date estimated at May 4th 2011!

4. We're getting married!

5. It's possible I maybe 8 months preggo at my wedding!

That's all for now folks. But I will stay in touch.

Dude! I'm Pregnant!

...And so it begins! Found out about the little meatloaf on August 22nd, after feeling really weird for a week or two. (Thought I was still in recovery mode from our wine-filled anniversary weekend in NYC...but, no.) I hadn't even missed the monthly visit yet, but I knew something was up. So I rushed to the CVS and picked up a double pack of early results tests. I actually took the first one 7 days early (it says 6 days on the box but I thought it would make an exception) on Thursday the 19th and... it showed negative. Slightly confused, relieved and yet sad, I plowed through the weekend stewing quite a bit about why my waist had suddenly disappeared, why I was so bloated my stretchy yoga pants were tight, and why I wanted to nap at 10:30 in the am.

I made the decision that I was going to check out some weight loss supplements. I mean, your waist doesn't just get to bloat up three inches for no good reason. And my energy needed a big time kick in the ass. But when I woke up at 6 am on Sunday morning, I realized that I couldn't just start up some crack-like new pill regime without knowing for sure what was really going on. So, within the requisite 6 days before your period time frame (now about 3 days before) I took the other test.

As I started to see the second pink line faintly appear...I freaked! Oh my god oh my god oh my god! I turned the test stick over and tossed it to the corner of the sink and got back into bed. It can't really be two flipin' lines! I lay there for awhile, I snuggled with Mat for awhile, putting it out of my mind for the last few minutes I could (for the rest of my life!) Mat got up and went into the bathroom. **TMI Alert** As he was standing there doing his thing, he notices the test shoved in the corner. 'Did you take a pregnancy test?' he yells at me in the bedroom. 'Uh, well, yeah,' I say, slowly walking into the bathroom. With a deer in the headlights look, he says 'Do you think you're pregnant?!' Mind you, he is still peeing. I kinda wanted to tell him while he at least has both hands free, so I wait. 'Val, are you pregnant?!' he says louder. Not sure if there's any perfect way to get this party started, so I stutter, 'Um....yeah, I think I am.' And he's silent. And still peeing. 'Oh my god that is the longest pee of your life!' I yelp as I run to the bed and pull the covers over my head. And start bawling.

Lo and behold, he finally stopped peeing and came out to calm my hysterics and we talked for a bit. Actually, when he finally emerged from the bathroom he had a huge smile on his face, which set off hysterics even more for a few seconds. In a good way. While this event was not planned for its current launch, it was on the long-term calendar nonetheless. We are really thrilled, scared, happy and freaked out, and are now in scramble mode trying to figure a few things out.

The news so far (well, besides the fact that I'm bringing a new human being into the world) is that we are moving into the house Mat owns that was on the market. Like, tomorrow. It's a great home for what we need right now, will be a 3-story luxury compared to our 1,000 SF apartment, and will give us a nursery, give me an office, Mat a place for his music equipment, and Katya and entire second master suite to fill with toys to her heart's desire. There is the tiny little bugger that it was a bona fide crack house just a few months ago. But we really believe we've painted, scrubbed, re-carpeted, and Lysol-ed all the bad vibes away and now its just walls, ready for a new beginning. (We may, however, get a shaman in there to clean the energy before we move, just to be safe!)

So...we're packing. Again. If anyone besides me is counting, this makes 4 moves in the past year and a half or so. I want to vomit. Or that may be the morning sickness, which has (yay for me!) just decided to kick in the moment we decided we had to pack up all our crap in one week and move. Fortunately we'll be heading out to Cape Cod next week to relax after all this.

As a recap:

1. I'm pregnant! 6 weeks or so. It's still possible it could just be indigestion. (Apart from the preggo test, missed period, bloating, constipation, nausea, extreme fatigue, and emotional mine field.)

2. We're happy!

3. We're moving!

4. We're going on vacation again!

As of right now, only a few people know because it is obviously so freakin' early. I haven't even been to the doctor yet. I don't even have a doctor yet out here. So...that's on the list. And we haven't told Katya, though we want to so badly we know that she will announce it to the world as soon as we do and we aren't quite there yet. I still haven't fully come to terms with all this yet, but I know it will happen as I get fatter.

One thing that has surprised me is how I feel. Which can only be described as yucky. I've had one continuous cramp for about 3 weeks (I read it's my uterus stretching, fun!) It's been low-key but constant and keeps me in a bit of a mood. And just a few days ago I started in big-time with the nausea. I haven't tossed my cookies yet, but the cookies threaten to be tossed all day long.('I think I just threw up in my mouth.') And NOTHING sounds good to eat, except peanut butter and banana sandwiches for some reason. Even water sounds gross to me, so I'm worried I'm not eating enough or drinking enough because it turns my stomach to think about. Dizzy often, tired, cranky but trying to be positive about it all!

That about wraps it up. Will keep you posted as events get more exciting. Mat and I thank everyone for their support and love and good wishes and are so happy to be on this journey together!

P.S. To all of my well-meaning loved ones: lay off Mat why dontcha! He will not propose to me just because my mom told him he should! He will not propose to me just because my sister threatens him! (well, maybe...) And he will not propose to me just because I'm carrying his love child! He has a plan, he's on a mission and won't be deterred. Besides, none of you can lay the pressure on as well as I can, and that vice has been squeezed :-)