It's a Journey...

We've now officially left happy Newbornland and have entered the slums of Betsville.

You know happy Newbornland! Your baby is so cute, so smushy, and even though you haven't slept since you were pregnant, you don't care. Cause you're happy you're not pregnant anymore, and you're so happy to see you new lil munchkin, and he sleeps for 22 hours a day in your arms, in the car, at a restaurant. Hell he'd probably sleep through a Lady Gaga concert. And people send you things, and bring you dinner, and visit and help and all is right with the world. I mean, did you see my last post? I was blabbering about freakin' flowers blooming and fuzzy ducklings!

And then its four weeks later. No one cooks dinners for you anymore. Everyone goes back to their own lives. And you're left with your child. Yet, it's not the same child, it seems. This one is a dandruffy, pimply-faced mutant with weird hair. He's decided not to sleep anymore. Ever again. And if you try to make him he will cry in your face with his newly discovered windpipes. Oh, and you better watch out cause he will pee and poop on you too, just to prove his point.

Ah, yes. The slums of Betsville. This is where the laundry sits mildewing in the washer for days, having been long forgotten until the last spit-up-free onsie is desperately needed but can't be had because it has grown mold. This is where crusty dishes pile up night after night. Half eaten bowls of cereal sit curdling on the table because you were interrupted mid-bite and never would return. Come on! This is my cereal time - is nothing sacred?! A cup of coffee spilt as you tried to constrain the flailing limbs of your baby congeals under the side table, never having seen a paper towel. Used bottles and baby-care books (useless, btw) and dirty diapers lay strewn about. And you smell and look like a homeless person. Spit-up spots your t-shirt and crusts in your hair. Your teeth have film. Your fingernails are ragged, your legs unshaven, and your underwear unchanged for who knows how long. And yet, having existed on only 3 broken hours of sleep a day for the past four weeks, you are so disoriented you don't give a shit!

This gets funner, right?

You are counting down the days until your child will start to sleep through the night. Your husband is counting down the days until he can "be intimate" with you. He's imagining role play. Ok. Let's role play. You tell him to imagine himself as a woman with torn privates, a handful of itchy stitches holding together said privates, and a plethora of screaming hemorrhoids who exists on 3 broken hours of sleep a night. Wanna do it?

Things will get better. I'm sure of it. I mean, I've got friends with kids who actually smile once in awhile. Can't wait.

Ahh, Spring Is In the Air

Springtime. It's a great time for babies, don't you think? I was driving through my neighborhood rejoicing in all the greenery that has finally sprouted, and passed by the pond near our house. The geese have made fuzzy little goslings, and a whole family was hanging out near the water. It was one of those moments that just makes you smile, and I wanted to roll down the window and shout to them, "I have one of those too!!"

Babies are such a miracle. My miracle happened on Easter Sunday, when Noah came out of my body (finally!) and into the world. Noah Dean Bets was born at 2:12 pm on April 24th, 2011 at 7 lbs 14 ounces.

I gave birth to Noah at home, with the assistance of my very experienced midwives Kate and Jill and my awesome husband. I'll get into why I chose homebirth in a future post, but I will tell you that it was the most intense experience I will probably ever have in my life.

My labor started around 2:30 am when my water broke, which woke me up from a strange dream where I was flying through space admiring the constellations. No word yet on what that all means, but in any event I was startled and thought I had lost control of my bladder. Again. (Please see previous posts on this unfortunate circumstance of pregnancy.) I called my midwife and she told me that I probably did lose my water, and my contractions should start getting more intense. Try to sleep, she said. Sure! I replied, rolling my eyes.

Mat and I got up and tried to watch a movie and sure enough, contractions got stronger. Kate arrived at the house around 9:30 am, and when she checked me an hour later I was 7 cm dilated and ready to get the show on the road.

Did I already say that this was the most intense experience of my life? I loved that I could walk around my own home, lay in my own bed, choose whatever position I wanted to be in that felt, well, less uncomfortable than the other positions. But natural childbirth is...intense. There's that word again! My contractions were so strong and exhausting that as I worked through the transition stage into pushing, I was literally falling asleep between each one. Mat tried to joke with me, but I was in such a zone I just ignored him and concentrated. I've never felt so primal, so animalistic, so feminine, and like such a wild woman as I did while I gave birth to my son in my bedroom while Mat held me up. My screams echoed through the neighborhood, and I'm sure someone thought I was being murdered in there.

But I did it. Noah came out with his hand up by his head - not awesome for me but it seems to be his natural tendency. He was perfect in every way, and as I held the newly born him, my body still coursing with adrenaline and drenched in sweat, I lay back on my bed and sighed. Yes, I did it.

Letting Go

Life is rushing at me at high velocity these days. With just about 3 weeks to go, the truth is settling in that life will forevermore not be the same. I was emotional yesterday, and I think I just figured out why. I think I'm mourning the end of my pregnancy.

Obviously the point of all of this is the get a kid out at the other end. But (despite all my griping to the contrary) I've actually loved being pregnant for the most part. The first three months, meh. But since then it's been such a thought-provoking, conscious-expanding, life-changing event. I just sit in amazement at what a female body can do to make life happen. I watch my belly grow, I feel Noah move around in there, all safe and warm. I dream about what he'll look like, his fun personality, how great being a new mom will be, and I get to make everything perfect in my dreams.

For 9 months this process takes over and you get to make all the decisions. You can protect and shield him from everything (well, almost everything. I'll get to that in a minute.) Then the little guy comes out of your protective bubble and the universe gets a hold of him. And apparently all hell breaks loose at that point, since from the moment he's born he will begin his quest for autonomy and individuality. And from the moment he's born it becomes inevitable that dreams and reality will start to contradict each other. I have control over my dreams! Reality - not so much.

The scariness of reality hit me head on last week at my last appointment. Because, yes, despite having convinced myself that I am in control, I have come to realize this is an illusion too. There's a moment at my appointments, right before I hear the heartbeat on the Doppler, that my own heart stops. It's a split second of crossing my fingers in my head and thinking 'please let him still be alive in there.' And then you hear the little tap tap tap and you breathe and think, how stupid, of course he's still in there all warm and snuggly and happy.

Well, at my last appointment that didn't happen. It took three attempts to hear his heartbeat at all. And once we did, it was crazy, abnormally slow. Even I, as a layperson, could tell that it was freakishly sluggish. All of my insides tensed up. 'This is it.' I thought to myself. 'I knew something bad was going to happen.' Maybe it's just me, but with this first pregnancy I've felt sort of like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. That in the end, it will be just as I expected. Things won't go right. Things will go wrong. I'm not meant to have a happy, healthy baby because I can't still yet imagine my life with him - Noah, the actual person - in it.

We jiggled him him a bit to stimulate him and then she checked again. Ah.....there it was. Heartbeat fast, loud and clear! I sighed with relief. And started crying. I made her check it 3 more times just to be sure. And then I decided to go for a non-stress test later that day, to a monitor to check his movements and ensure his heartbeat was 'on track.' And he was perfect. All is well. So, what happened before?

The fact is that I'll never know. Maybe he rolled over on his cord for a minute. Maybe we picked up my heartbeat instead of his. The reality of it is that I can't know what happened and that means I can't prevent it from happening again. I really DON'T have control. And it was my first lesson (of many, I'm sure) in letting go.

The universe, or God, or whatever higher power you believe in, has a way of letting you know that ultimately, it's not up to you. In this tiny little speck of time I'm here on this tiny little speck of dirt called Earth, all I can do is my best, and then turn it over to faith.

It's always had a plan, this universe of ours, and though we can't know what the ultimate plan is, it works with extreme efficiency. Every atom has a purpose, being used over and over, to create, to be destroyed, and then to recreate oceans, landscapes, animals, people. Noah is made up of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen atoms, and those atoms were first in my body. Those atoms came from the food I ate, and the milk I drank, which came from the cow, which came from the grass, which came from the soil and raindrops that originated maybe over the Mediterranean sea. And those atoms maybe once made up a dinosaur, or an ancient tree, or ash from a long-now extinct volcano. And those volcano atoms came from the center of the earth, and originally from some long ago explosion that spontaneously started this whole circus to begin with.

The exact same atoms that make up my son have been recycled throughout time, over and over again from the very beginning. How interesting it would be if we could follow the journey of an atom over time! And someday they will be recycled again, into the earth to turn into something else. On one hand, it makes me feel very, very insignificant. But on the other, I imagine the soul, or spirit, or energy of each and every thing these atoms have been a part of leaving an imprint on it, and I feel so connected to the world, to everything in it. A part of the plan.

We do our best, and leave the rest to follow a path that we don't know or understand, one that involves us but one in which we have no input. We all have to do this. Nobody is more special, nobody has more power in this fateful journey.

It reminds me of the Serenity prayer that my mom used to have on the windowsill in our kitchen. I've always loved these words.

God grant me Serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; and Wisdom to know the difference.

Revolt

I'm officially fat. There is no question now. At my checkup yesterday, the reaction was "Whoa! You've had a growth spurt!" Uh, yeah. It seems that my belly has grown 5 cm since my last appointment two weeks ago. Compare this to an average 1 to 2 cm of belly expansion, and you understand why Mat actually thought he saw my midsection grow before his eyes over the weekend. These pics, by the way, are from two weeks ago pre-explosion. So take my belly, add 5 cm straight out, throw in a green shirt that doesn't fit anymore, and you get the true picture.

Along with this rapid expansion of real estate, I've had the joy of experiencing the other fun add-ons that happen at this stage of pregnancy:

1. Swollen feet. Yes, we all know this happens. But when it first happens to you, it can be shocking. (How many times have I said that over the past 8 months?) Of course I freaked out and called it in. One day, all of a sudden, my ankles swelled to about 4 times their normal size. I thought I broke something in there. Nope, just my newly acquired cankles saying hi.

2. Jowls. Ahh, aren't these fun? I thought I might have escaped this unfortunate side effect. That'd be a big (fat) no.

3. Big lips. Yes, I had big lips before I became pregnant. But for some reason, maybe its the circumference expansion of my head in general, my lips are huge! I can feel them flapping when I talk. I'm not making that up.

4. Strange hair. This complaint can be broken down into two distinct, but equally offensive, parts.

Part A: Random chin hairs. My sister lovingly pointed out to me while she was in town that in certain non-flattering light, you can see long hairs growing out of my face. I tried to call her bluff, but lo and behold as I looked a certain way in the mirror the light caught the behemoth 2 inch blond hair sticking out of my chin. I assume he wasn't the first or last.

Part B: awkward head hair. By this I mean, something strange is brewing in my scalp or something. After giving up in frustration the idea of getting a decent hair do in the area, I tried to color my hair myself. Now, I'm not a newbie at this; I used to color my hair a really great platinum for a time and never had a problem. But during this fateful application, I turned my hair orange. Coco looked like my long lost twin. Apparently pregnancy wreaks havoc on your hair chemistry, and I got to see it illustrated first hand! It was truly an awesome color. From what I could see through my tears.

5. Cellulite. But not your normal cellulite that you find on your thighs and butt. This is cellulite in weird places - arms, sides of my back, my calves. What is the point of this? I mean really. What biological purpose does this serve in growing a baby? And can someone please tell me that this goes away?! ....Anyone...?

I've been told, in no uncertain terms, that if I want to have a normal size baby squeeze out of my pie hole I need to lay off of the midnight Eggo cereal consumption and 'find a healthy snack alternative instead.' So, let me get this straight. You're telling me to stop consuming golden maple syrup flavored love bites by the boxful and eat unsweetened Greek yogurt in its place? I've lost my body, my normal lips, my sleep, smooth skin, regular clothes, my ankles, for Godssake, and now you're taking my last respite? My anchor? My cereal? It may be time for revolt.

I unfortunately leaked outside evidence proving the existence of my insane cereal addiction when I accidentally texted Elisabeth instead of Mat with a directive that he dare not come home without stopping at the grocery and getting me a box of Eggo cereal. Her response: 'Pregnancy has made you insane.' Tell me something I don't know, sister. She then gave me a recommendation for a workout video. Sigh.

I've got about 6 weeks left and I'm not quite sure where the rest of Noah is going to fit. I literally stick straight out. My maternity shirts don't cover my belly anymore, and dammit if I'm gonna buy any more preggo clothes! I suppose I do need that video.

It's amazing - this paradox of how quickly the time flies vs. the eternity your existence feels like when you've been carrying 30 pounds of extra weight. (What's also interesting is this paradox of me fighting my expanding torso by attacking it with cereal. But I digress.) Mat and I are excited, and I've slowly lost that sense of freaking-outness. Though we still haven't done a thing with the nursery....

Yeah, now that I think about it, I may still be lost in the bliss of denial.....

Give Me a 'Moment'

One baby shower down and one to go! I was recently in Phoenix where Janet and my mom hosted a big shindig for me and Noah. It was awesome, and I have to give props to my Aunt Shel, Uncle Kim and cousins for their contributions as well. I'm so lucky!

My lovely friends and family gifted me a ton of great stuff that I have absolutely no idea how to use. Is it instinct? Cause I'm getting scared. Even the blanket comes with a diagram of swaddling instructions because if you don't do it correctly you may be setting your child up for all sorts of horrible wayward-blanket caused mishaps and maladies. It's terrifying that I will actually have to put a baby into this stuff.

If you haven't figured it out, I'm one of those people that hasn't spent a huge amount of time around kids, especially babies. I like kids. I think they're cute. I like it when they go home. I was never a babysitter, I've never been googly-eyed over chubby rolls of thigh. I love my girlfriends babies, but that still doesn't mean I know what to do with them. I got to Katya when she was already talking and potty-trained (thank god...for her sake.) I know that I want babies and that I will love my own like nothing else, but...how do they work?!?!

How do you button up a onesie on a wriggling newborn without breaking him? How the hell do you give that slippery little piggy a bath without dropping him on the floor? How do you get your boob to work so you don't starve them? I may be overthinking this.

I don't think so.

So now I've started on my mission of gathering "after you squeeze the baby out" books. Any advice would be helpful on this front. I will read everything ever written on how to care for an infant! And this will ensure that I will be the smartest mother alive! Or so my thinking goes. Though I know, deep down, that just like everything else, only experience can give me the kind of wisdom I seek. Sigh. At least maybe I can keep Borders in business.

While I was in Phoenix I had grand plans to treat myself to a spa day that never came to fruition. I'm seven months pregnant now, I feel like I deserve a treat! So I decided to do the next best thing and head to the Aveda store. I flippin' love this store because they have all these things they do to you to get you to buy their products. I tell my dad that I'm headed to the mall to poke around a bit - he's retired so I know he's most likely not otherwise engaged; I also know this is probably the least exciting thing To Do on his scant To Do list...but does he want to come? Bless his heart, he does, despite my pre-emptive warnings that really, I'm not on a mission. Because I know my dad will need a mission, will want to know specifically what the mission is. Why is it that dads always need a mission? I know I'm gonna do a lot of aimless browsing, a lot of smelling pretty things, and that it will involve a lot of indecision. None of these three things has my dad much tolerance for. But alas, we embark on our journey.

So, we get to the Aveda store after hitting up lunch and several other shops. Dad and I are having fun. I start smelling some things and the lovely male customer service person Gabriel begins to describe the plant essences and mineral vibrations and such that are in each product, and then asks me if I want a hand-cial. This, of course, is a facial on your hand, with all of their smelly products. Excellent! So I sit at the center table where my dad has been waiting, Gabriel offers us some Comforting Tea and we settle in. I can hear my dad sigh as the array of bottles is lined up.

After my hand-cial, I still can't decide if I want to buy something. So Gabriel, intuitive angel that he is, asks me if I would like an "Aveda Moment of Wellness" to help bring clarity to my decision. We are 30 minutes into our Aveda experience already, but that doesn't phase me because, yes, of course I want an Aveda Moment of Wellness, that is exactly why I came to the store and I was just waiting for him to ask! At this point my dad gets up quickly and says, well, if you're going to be here awhile I'll just keep walking around. Ok good. Now I don't have to feel bad thinking he's bored out of his mind while I take my clarity break.

Gabriel brings over the Chakra cards and lays them on the table and asks me to pick three that inspire me. He describes each one in loving detail and I pick, after which he then brings the Chakra Balancing Sprays over so I can "make a connection" with one of the three that I've chosen. At this point it's been about 5 minutes and my dad is already back. And I have not even selected my Chakra Spray for my Moment yet! So he sits back down next to me to wait. I choose the spray and so begins my Moment. I can practically hear my dad's eyeroll as Gabriel sprays the air ceremoniously with my Intention and Motivation Chakra Spray. "I'm massaging your aura now," Gabriel says as I feel his hands whooshing around my head and shoulders. I did need my aura, massaged, thank you very much. Big sigh and shifting in seat coming from dad's direction. Next Gabriel plied me with Blue Oil on my pulse points, which will get my body's vibrations in tune with the earth's universal vibrations or some such thing. Then he finished up with a shoulder and neck massage to release tension and allow my Prana to flow without hindrance. Ahhh. I look over at my dad who has been fidgeting uncomfortably throughout the entire Transcending experiencing and is about ready to either laugh in disbelief or yell at me in frustration. I can't tell which, but fortunately the moment did offer me clarity: time to go!

All in all dad was a good sport. I think he gave me a break because I'm pregnant and have apparently lost my mind. Though not as lost as the folks over at Aveda, I'm sure Pops is thinking...

Things I Miss:

1. Wine. I'm not a huge drinker, but I do miss partaking. No one warns you how detrimental it can be to see your closest friends and family become belligerent and bumbling in front of you as you sit sober as George W. Bush these days watching the spectacle. A) I didn't realize they were all such idiots. B) Even worse, I now realize I am also probably that big of an idiot when I drink too.

2. My thighs. My understanding was that pregnant women start to waddle because their hips are miraculously expanding to make way for the baby. How beautiful! No, that's not really it. They waddle because their thighs have grown so large in circumference that they rub together while walking and the friction is so intense a forest fire may erupt down there at any moment.

3. Going to the bathroom like a normal person. I suppose it's designed at this point to give you a trial run in what giving birth feels like.

4. Underwear that fit appropriately.

I'm 30 weeks along now and I think Mat finally realizes that a baby is in there. And will come out. As we enjoy these last few weeks of semi-sanity before Noah I will keep you updated!

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...?