Holding steady

Quick update:

Baby boy {still unnamed} looks great. Growing strong. Kicking plenty. I can't wait to meet him!

I'm doing fine as well. The count down is alive and well on the black board. We have 17{!} days left until eviction. This morning, my doctor said that I looked settled into pregnancy. I think she mistook exhaustion and resignation for something more noble.

Tim and the girls are hanging in there too, largely thanks to our awesome church family who provide parenting breaks, swap out library books, surprise us with food, pray for and check on us, etc... We would be lost without them. Many, many thanks are in order.

I'm reasonably certain this is my final home pedicure. Little Man is squirming most uncomfortably as I strain to reach all ten toes.

We'll let you know if anything changes!

What to expect

Today has been a psycho pregnant day. I ran around the house, giddily experimenting with Bar Keeper's Friend - ooh, what else can I clean? The girls gave each other the look that say momma's gone crazy, and we should roll with it. Pregnancy absolutely makes you nuts, at least temporarily {I hope}.

A few of the ways that otherwise normal women become pregnant lunatics {that What to Expect conveniently leaves out}:

Your pants do not fit for 9 months. It doesn't matter what waist band you buy. Even yoga pants ride high one minute then slide off the next. Such is the nature of trying to cover a balloon in elastic. Prepare yourself for constant hiking, pulling, and squirming. It takes it's toll on your sanity.

Food stains appear on every shirt you own, even ones you don't remember wearing. Because you are now the clumsiest person alive, so much so that you don't even notice spills. You can try blaming your toddler, but no one is fooled.

Lots of belly staring from smiling strangers, but no comments. People can't help but notice your baby bump. But somehow we've been trained not to ask when you're due, or if you know the gender, or even congratulate you. People who value their privacy will enjoy this. Personally, I miss celebrating with complete strangers, hearing about their families, even if I do field the occasional rude, you must be crazy.

Every OB's scale adds three pounds. It's incredibly discouraging to think you gained weight driving to your appointment. After three different OB offices, I'm convinced it's a sadistic joke by the college of obstetrics.

Half of the women standing around the playground or eating at Sweet Frog share your condition. Before you jump on me for stereotyping, I'm also standing there, hiking up my elastic waist pants, waddling after my children. I don't know what non-pregnant mothers do to occupy their children, but pregnant ones go to the playground, then recover with frozen yogurt.

Your grocery bill skyrockets. Through the power of suggestion and sympathy cravings. The girls can talk me into anything - out of season fruit from Argentina, extra cheese, treats for Daddy, treats for super dog. Indulging other people's cravings becomes your new vice.

Nesting is more manic than cute. Like labor, there are lots of false alarms with nesting - it's not prepping the nursery or an unusually productive day or growing irritated enough with the long-ignored mess that you throw yourself into organizing it. It's wild, out of control, no real plan cleaning. And not the kind that wows your hubby when he comes home. He's more likely to walk in and cautiously ask, What happened today, while you snore on the couch and your kids run around in their underwear. You can eat off the kitchen floor which is great because you never noticed the day's dirty dishes. Manic, hormone-storm cleaning. Roll with it, and take some Tylenol. Your back is going to punish you when the hormonal numbness wears off.

Pregnancy is a crazy, beautiful blessing. If you love being pregnant, wonderful. If you're hung up on the puberty crazy of it all, I get you. I can only call it beautiful on my third time around. Before this, it was migraines and awkwardness. I felt so guilty around the happy pregnant women who loved their baby bump bodies.

Then the girls arrived, and I realized that how much you love, or don't love pregnancy is no indication of your love for your baby or your ability as a momma. And the craziness of pregnancy is a blip in your history. Easily forgotten, quickly recovered from.

No one stays pregnant forever. And the hormones that made you crazy also make you forget the crazy. Especially when you first hold baby.

The results are in...

Ultrasound today and...

Blue socks!

It's a boy!!!

Baby is healthy. Mommy is healthy. Best 20 week ultrasound we've ever had. Thank you Lord!

Boy or girl?

Friday is the day... we find out Baby's gender! DH and the girls could not be more certain or more opposed.

DH knows it's a boy, refers to baby as, 'little man.' He'd really like another guy in his corner. Someone who would vote for a trip to Bass Pro over a craft day at home. I get that.

The girls are dead set on a baby sister. They used to be cool with the idea of a brother but not any more. I told them that a little brother would be fun, like having their friend Jonathan over to play. Big one's expression clearly said, 'meh.' Small one just became more firm, 'No means no! Girl!'

I'm the only neutral party. Boy or girl - I can't be disappointed. I'd really love to get some trucks and mud and snails around here to balance out the pink and paper dolls and princesses. I love watching little boys play, especially outside. Small one doesn't realize how much fun she would have with someone else who likes getting dirty.

But my own two sisters are such a blessing. Three girls - our own version of Little Women. And I couldn't imagine not having them both, especially as grown up friends.

Essentially, we can't go wrong.

Now's the time to poll the audience...

What do you think, girl # 3 or little man??

In case you are a big believer in old wives tales:

Heart rate: 155 bpm {same as the girls}
How I'm feeling: very few migraines, but morning sickness was a doozie {opposite from the girls}
How I'm carrying: low and forward {same as small one}
What I'm craving: mostly salty, but I never pass up ice cream {I was all ice cream with the girls}
That's all I've got... no draino crystals or needles from strings. Sorry.

 I'll let you know what the ultrasound reveals on Friday.

Everyone's Growing!

Time for another self-indulgent post where I tell you how cute my daughter is and how much she's grown.

Last night, G fell asleep before she could finish her last bottle, so I enjoyed the now rare pleasure of creeping in her room at 10 o'clock to let her finish. (Funny how excited I was to cut out this feeding a few months ago)

Our girl is not a cuddler - she might be  pint size, but she acts like a 1 year old, pushing away from you, sitting up on your lap but never leaning against you. The only time we get to snuggle with her is when she's asleep.

That's why last night was so special. She slept through the feeding and nestled into my chest when the bottle was empty. Hmmm... So nice.

She's grown recently. Like every baby, she grows wide then tall, gains a little pooch then lengthens out. Between needing extra naps, acting extra grumpy and eating like a horse, I thought she might be adding the inches again. Turns out, she's a little over 26 inches long - a full inch from her 6 month check up (contrary to the picture - I didn't measure to her toes). I think we might be back on the growth chart! You might remember that at her last check up, G had all but shrunk.

Gwennan's not the only one who's growing. This baby is making his/her presence known to the world much faster than G did! People aren't asking when I'm due yet, but that could be because I have a 7 month old on my hip, and they're thinking, "She'd be crazy to have babies that close together." Yep, I'm crazy, not plump.

Being pregnant this time is a very different experience. Feeling like crap is the same, but my attitude is different. With G, nothing could move fast enough. If you asked me how far along I was, I could tell you to the day while tapping my foot that I wasn't farther along. This go around, my iPod is keeping track because I can't keep up. This morning, my mom asked, so the number is fresh: 16 weeks and 3 days (I'm tempted to double check that).

Last year, I remember thinking I would never find out if she was a boy or girl. We tried stupid home tests, like adding drano crystals to your pee (turns out no one interprets the results the same way), suspending a needle above your arm to see how it swings, the baby's heart rate, how I was carrying, all of it. We saw "boy" in everything (except the heart rate, but I just ignored that). This time, I'm not even tempted. My ultrasound is in three weeks. That's no time at all, at least this pregnancy.

Come November, you guys can remind me of this post and how "fast" things are moving. I'll be having dreams in which I'm pregnant forever and whining that the baby will never come. Feel free to point out that the second pregnancy goes by so much faster, and it's swelling with a purpose. On the other hand, maybe you should just send some ice cream and pray for Tim and G.

Wait, what am I doing here?

I heard about pregnancy turning your brain to mush. Like everything else that people warn me about, I thought they were exaggerating. But no, I have totally lost my mind. It's more than just lack of sleep and time to myself. The problem is more deeply rooted in the recess of my previously high-functioning brain. I've become such a flake! I can't keep track of the days. I walk into rooms and can't remember why I'm there. My calendar is virtually empty, but I can't keep track of the few things I'm responsible for. So frustrating.

Those of you who have babies know what I'm talking about, and you may be chuckling at our shared fate. Those of you who haven't had babies yet, go ahead, laugh and shake your head. Tell yourself it will never happen to you. That optimistic sense that every other mother is an idiot and you will not succumb to their stupidity allows us to charge ahead into the next grand adventure. If you really knew what you were getting into, you probably wouldn't get into it.

I say that you wouldn't get into it - that's not true. I love being a mom. Getting Gwennan up in the morning is the best part of my day. I just wish I could form a coherent sentence.