I can't find my camera! The camera with my last belly picture on it and the nursery photos! Gah! It has got to be here somewhere but where? These days I can't remember where I put that glass of water I just poured let alone where the camera may be. I was so excited to show you all the new pictures, but alas, it is not meant to be today. Maybe Friday.
Baby update: kicking like a madman, causing me all sorts of discomfort. I didn't think I would already be at the point where I am ready for him to come out. I have just under three more months to go and I am uncomfortable. I am not hugely pregnant yet, just feeling cumbersome. It's like the third trimester started and bam! all the simplicity and ease of the second trimester went out the window. Here is an example of an average night in the Smith household:
10:30 pm Head off to bed, water in hand.
10:45 pm Finish bathroom routine and roll into bed.
10:45 pm Scoot around until I can get comfy with my boyfriend, the Snoogle pillow.
11:20 pm Have to pee. Get up to pee.
11:22 pm Get back in bed and rearrange the Snoogle, again.
11:23 - 2:15 am Sleep, sort of.
2:16 am Wake up. Have to pee. Get up to pee.
2:17 am Walk right into the doorway to the bathroom, swear loudly.
2:17.5 am No response from Tim who is snoring.
2:20 am Waddle back to bed.
2:23 - 3:35 am Sleep. Glorious sleep.
3:36 am Wake up. Have to pee, again. Get up, again.
3:39 - 4:45 am Contemplate just getting up for the day. Think that is stupid.
4:46 - 6:00 am Roll around and kick the Snoogle out of bed for bad behavior.
6:01 - 7:15 am Lay there sighing until it wakes up Tim. Poke him until he grumbles.
7:16 am Get up for good, pee again.
Don't we all agree that schedule is BS? I refuse to think "oh, you're just getting ready for the baby" and "that's what it will be like when the baby comes". Get off it. I think it's complete and utter crap. I am controlled by my bladder and the little weasel who is sitting on it. He has no other objective other than to torture me at this exact time. He's not trying to teach me what it will be like when he's here. Oh no, he's just rubbing his little hands together and grinning devilishly. Little does he know that I become the BOSS when he gets here...right? Please tell me I am the boss. I want to be the boss.
Until then, he is in charge. Monday is my next ultrasound and doctor appointment so I am hoping for good news. Maybe he'll have turned and isn't breech (though I have a feeling he hasn't based on his kicking patterns, aka right on my cervix) and my placenta has moved northbound. If not, who knows what they'll say. Either way, he's in charge for at least 10 more weeks. Ok, boss, what's it going to be?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Week 28
My darling boy,
We've been together now 6 whole months. Happy Half Year Anniversary! You are growing so big and strong now and really packing on the weight (oh yeah, me too). You're now a little over 2 pounds and about 13 inches long from head to toe. For comparison sake, you're about the size of a 2 liter bottle of soda. And you love to sit on my bladder and poke at it, which is NOT the size of a 2 liter bottle of soda thankyouverymuch. With the exception of this past weekend, you are a kicking and punching machine. Your daddy and I have nicknamed you Rocky Balboa, Jr. We love to sit and watch you make my belly jump and jiggle. Your daddy also likes to tap out morse code and see if you're smart enough yet to respond. Little does he know that we have study sessions everyday and you're not only fluent in morse code but also in French, Italian, and Japanese.
I'm so anxious to meet you! I wonder what you look like, whether you have your dad's cleft chin and adorable dimples. Or maybe you have my ears and blue eyes. I wonder about the little personality you're developing...we know you're stubborn already, but hopefully you're also a kind soul. I can't wait to hear your voice, beginning with that first cry after birth. I know that weeks later I will wish your vocal cords to freeze for a while until you are, oh, let's say, 25, but in the meantime all I want is to hear you ask for me in your own voice.
I'm beginning to watch mothers with their children and trying to understand the delicate and fine-tuned language they have with each other. I wonder what our language will be. I've heard that the times in the middle of the night, when the rest of the world is sleeping, are the best and most precious times we will have together. We'll cuddle together in the dark, quiet house and get to know each other. And so soon you will grow up and those times will become fewer and farther between.
Please know that you are an extension of my heart and my soul. I weep at the thought of anything happening to you, and yet I don't know you. Never did I think I would understand this feeling, but I do. I only know that it will multiply in infinite ways when we finally meet. Only a few more months to go my boy.
Love,
Mama
We've been together now 6 whole months. Happy Half Year Anniversary! You are growing so big and strong now and really packing on the weight (oh yeah, me too). You're now a little over 2 pounds and about 13 inches long from head to toe. For comparison sake, you're about the size of a 2 liter bottle of soda. And you love to sit on my bladder and poke at it, which is NOT the size of a 2 liter bottle of soda thankyouverymuch. With the exception of this past weekend, you are a kicking and punching machine. Your daddy and I have nicknamed you Rocky Balboa, Jr. We love to sit and watch you make my belly jump and jiggle. Your daddy also likes to tap out morse code and see if you're smart enough yet to respond. Little does he know that we have study sessions everyday and you're not only fluent in morse code but also in French, Italian, and Japanese.
I'm so anxious to meet you! I wonder what you look like, whether you have your dad's cleft chin and adorable dimples. Or maybe you have my ears and blue eyes. I wonder about the little personality you're developing...we know you're stubborn already, but hopefully you're also a kind soul. I can't wait to hear your voice, beginning with that first cry after birth. I know that weeks later I will wish your vocal cords to freeze for a while until you are, oh, let's say, 25, but in the meantime all I want is to hear you ask for me in your own voice.
I'm beginning to watch mothers with their children and trying to understand the delicate and fine-tuned language they have with each other. I wonder what our language will be. I've heard that the times in the middle of the night, when the rest of the world is sleeping, are the best and most precious times we will have together. We'll cuddle together in the dark, quiet house and get to know each other. And so soon you will grow up and those times will become fewer and farther between.
Please know that you are an extension of my heart and my soul. I weep at the thought of anything happening to you, and yet I don't know you. Never did I think I would understand this feeling, but I do. I only know that it will multiply in infinite ways when we finally meet. Only a few more months to go my boy.
Love,
Mama
Monday, April 21, 2008
Update from the couch
Today I made my first emergency call to the OB's office. I swore I was not going to be one of those pregnant women who call at the first sign of something being a little "off" or "not quite right". But the boy hadn't moved a whole lot over the weekend and I was starting to get nervous. Clearly I turned to the internets for answers before calling the doctor. Most of what I found was that I should lay quietly for two hours and count the number of kicks I feel in those two hours. I should have a minimum of 10 movements/kicks. I started counting Saturday and didn't feel much and the same on Sunday. This morning I had had enough and decided to call the doctor's office.
Apparently, decreased fetal movement at 27 weeks is important enough to get you in to the doctor immediately. Off I went where they hooked me up to a fetal heart monitor and gave me a little button to click every time I felt a movement. It was a little like Jeopardy. The heart monitor produced a good report and detected a strong, consistent beat. It was incredibly reassuring to hear his little heart beating strong and sure. Then I got to have another bonus ultrasound! This is where it got interesting. The boy is measuring right on schedule and all parts are accounted for (double points for confirming we are FOR SURE having a boy). At this point in the game, he should be hanging out either transverse (side to side across my abdomen) or head down, butt up (classic delivery position). My boy, my stubborn little boy, is completely breech (butt down, head up) and is showing no signs of turning. And he's wedged firmly in my pelvis. After the nurse compared my past ultrasounds to this one, she told me that he has been breech since the beginning. Friends, this does not bode well for a natural (by that I mean vaginal, not drug-free, good god) delivery. Unless he does a complete flip in the next 12-13 weeks, I am having a c-section. Also, my placenta has not made enough progress in the past month to rule out a c-section for that reason alone.
The good news: the boy is happy and content in his little womb and is growing big and strong (2 lbs, 3 oz!).
The bad news: he's happy and content in his little womb, right (wrong) side up, and resting squarely in my pelvis.
Stubborn, just like his father.
(Updated to add: 20-25% of babies are breech at the 28th week with about 5% staying breech until birth. Odds are good that he'll turn on his own in the next few weeks, so yay!)
Apparently, decreased fetal movement at 27 weeks is important enough to get you in to the doctor immediately. Off I went where they hooked me up to a fetal heart monitor and gave me a little button to click every time I felt a movement. It was a little like Jeopardy. The heart monitor produced a good report and detected a strong, consistent beat. It was incredibly reassuring to hear his little heart beating strong and sure. Then I got to have another bonus ultrasound! This is where it got interesting. The boy is measuring right on schedule and all parts are accounted for (double points for confirming we are FOR SURE having a boy). At this point in the game, he should be hanging out either transverse (side to side across my abdomen) or head down, butt up (classic delivery position). My boy, my stubborn little boy, is completely breech (butt down, head up) and is showing no signs of turning. And he's wedged firmly in my pelvis. After the nurse compared my past ultrasounds to this one, she told me that he has been breech since the beginning. Friends, this does not bode well for a natural (by that I mean vaginal, not drug-free, good god) delivery. Unless he does a complete flip in the next 12-13 weeks, I am having a c-section. Also, my placenta has not made enough progress in the past month to rule out a c-section for that reason alone.
The good news: the boy is happy and content in his little womb and is growing big and strong (2 lbs, 3 oz!).
The bad news: he's happy and content in his little womb, right (wrong) side up, and resting squarely in my pelvis.
Stubborn, just like his father.
(Updated to add: 20-25% of babies are breech at the 28th week with about 5% staying breech until birth. Odds are good that he'll turn on his own in the next few weeks, so yay!)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Taking one for the team
I've decided to compromise. I figure that I have made it through a year and half of marriage doing it my way (for the most part) and that it is time for me to put aside my wants and needs and sacrifice for my husband. I did promise to love and honor him for all the days of our lives, through all my children, being continuously bold and beautiful, if not young and restless.
This compromise consists of allowing the following art be hung in our baby's room. For my man, the love of my life, the man who will forever be a geek (but don't you dare call him a nerd), I present the newest nursery acquisition. Behold.
This compromise consists of allowing the following art be hung in our baby's room. For my man, the love of my life, the man who will forever be a geek (but don't you dare call him a nerd), I present the newest nursery acquisition. Behold.
Can you read it? Wait, here is a larger image of one of the cards:
Oh yeah, I did.
(IAll images courtesy of Electric Boogaloo via http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5002595. Thanks!!!)
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Oh so busy
I have plans today. Big plans. Plans that include going to the dog park, the grocery store, and the piece de resistance...baking banana bread pudding. I know that sounds pretty gross, but how can it not be good? I like banana bread and I like bread pudding. So why not put the two together. The recipe is courtesy of this funny lady and I am just jumping up and down with excitement over making it. Then, after that, I am going to attempt to figure out how to make custom window shades for the nursery, and then I will weed out my garden and plan the landscape using graph paper and common household objects as tracing tools. Then I will reorganize my linen closet complete with custom printed labels for sheets, towels, rags, etc. on pretty scrapbook paper...which will lead me to the scrapbook I am putting together for the boy with cutouts of bunnies and stars.
Oh wait. I just remembered I am NOT Martha Stewart. Let's revise the day in a more Sara friendly way shall we? I am going to think about making banana bread pudding for a few hours and contemplate just how badly I want it versus the time it will take to make. The dog park and grocery store will probably stay if I can convince Tim to come with so I don't have to a) carry the grocery bags (against my doctor's orders!) and b) throw the damn ball to the dog who does not retrieve well. I did think about custom window shades until I realized that I do not own a sewing machine, nor do I have any clue how to sew properly, and that our crib bedding set came with a valance for the window. Commence slapping of forehead repeatedly with palm of hand. I would weed out the garden except I have no idea what is a weed and what is a flowering plant that someone put there on purpose. I could do a drawing of a potential landscape but that would mean digging out my long lost graphing paper and stencils...sounds suspisciously like work. And I don't have a true linen closet to reorganize. Though I will have to get to that somewhat soon because the baby is going to need a closet of his own. And scrapbooking? We're lucky if pictures even get printed off our hard drive let alone transferred from the camera to the hard drive.
Lest you think me lazy by nature, let's just say that this modified bed rest has caused my brain and muscles to atrophy to the point of....eh, what's the point? Once this baby shows up, there will be no more rest and relaxation so until then I will be taking full advantage of my couch. You can find me there Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 8 am to 5 pm. I can be contacted at doctorinstitutedlazyass@gmail.com. (That is not a real email, FYI, OMG, BTW.)
Oh wait. I just remembered I am NOT Martha Stewart. Let's revise the day in a more Sara friendly way shall we? I am going to think about making banana bread pudding for a few hours and contemplate just how badly I want it versus the time it will take to make. The dog park and grocery store will probably stay if I can convince Tim to come with so I don't have to a) carry the grocery bags (against my doctor's orders!) and b) throw the damn ball to the dog who does not retrieve well. I did think about custom window shades until I realized that I do not own a sewing machine, nor do I have any clue how to sew properly, and that our crib bedding set came with a valance for the window. Commence slapping of forehead repeatedly with palm of hand. I would weed out the garden except I have no idea what is a weed and what is a flowering plant that someone put there on purpose. I could do a drawing of a potential landscape but that would mean digging out my long lost graphing paper and stencils...sounds suspisciously like work. And I don't have a true linen closet to reorganize. Though I will have to get to that somewhat soon because the baby is going to need a closet of his own. And scrapbooking? We're lucky if pictures even get printed off our hard drive let alone transferred from the camera to the hard drive.
Lest you think me lazy by nature, let's just say that this modified bed rest has caused my brain and muscles to atrophy to the point of....eh, what's the point? Once this baby shows up, there will be no more rest and relaxation so until then I will be taking full advantage of my couch. You can find me there Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 8 am to 5 pm. I can be contacted at doctorinstitutedlazyass@gmail.com. (That is not a real email, FYI, OMG, BTW.)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
"Not too fat, just a little in the face"
Today was a "go to work day" so that means I have to get out of my pajamas, actually blow dry my hair and put a little color on my face. I hate "go to work days". Anyhow, I got on the elevator at my office building today with 5 other people…one of which I work with, though only peripherally. Apparently, I haven't seen this woman in a couple months because she glanced at me and then did a double take when she realized I was pregnant. She proceeded to pull open my jacket to get a better look at my belly which of course drew attention from the rest of the passengers riding with us. Lovely, isn't it?
She then tells me she's going to guess what I am having, boy or girl. So then the guy next to me chimes in with "It's a boy. Can't you tell? She's all in front and big in the belly. Not big on the sides like if it was a girl". The woman I work with agreed. Oh ho, isn't this great fun for me? But it didn't stop there. The remaining three people all craned their necks to look at the pregnant circus freak and all agreed it's a boy. Aren't they all just so special with their ability to divine what the baby's sex is just by looking at me? I seriously felt like I was on display in Macy's Christmas windows, especially since my co-worker was STILL holding my jacket open.
I recovered from that situation, only to run into the same woman in the bathroom a couple of hours later. This time she pointed out my pregnant belly to the other woman washing her hands. Ok, fine, I get it. This new found information apparently thrills the pants off her. But this time she says to me: "You know what? You're doing a good job of not getting too fat, just a little in the face" along with a circular motion around her own face. At this point I wanted to punch her own rotund, chubby little face with my not too fat fist. If I had hung around any longer I bet she would have asked me how much weight I've gained so far.
Lesson learned: everyone loves to comment about a woman's pregnancy and its progress. It's just a matter of time before random people start touching my belly, isn't it?
She then tells me she's going to guess what I am having, boy or girl. So then the guy next to me chimes in with "It's a boy. Can't you tell? She's all in front and big in the belly. Not big on the sides like if it was a girl". The woman I work with agreed. Oh ho, isn't this great fun for me? But it didn't stop there. The remaining three people all craned their necks to look at the pregnant circus freak and all agreed it's a boy. Aren't they all just so special with their ability to divine what the baby's sex is just by looking at me? I seriously felt like I was on display in Macy's Christmas windows, especially since my co-worker was STILL holding my jacket open.
I recovered from that situation, only to run into the same woman in the bathroom a couple of hours later. This time she pointed out my pregnant belly to the other woman washing her hands. Ok, fine, I get it. This new found information apparently thrills the pants off her. But this time she says to me: "You know what? You're doing a good job of not getting too fat, just a little in the face" along with a circular motion around her own face. At this point I wanted to punch her own rotund, chubby little face with my not too fat fist. If I had hung around any longer I bet she would have asked me how much weight I've gained so far.
Lesson learned: everyone loves to comment about a woman's pregnancy and its progress. It's just a matter of time before random people start touching my belly, isn't it?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Another post about things you probably don't care about
Ok, I figured things out with work and basically we reached a compromise and we're all happy for the time being lalalalalalala. Long story short, I'm still working part time because bills, mortgage, baby costing millions of dollars, etc. but we're ok with that. And I have given my official not coming back after baby notice. Poor Tim, now he won't have a hot meal on the table EVERY night during the week. I know he was so looking forward to that. More evenings of what Rachael Ray calls 30 Minute Meals being the equivalent of Sara Smith One Hour and Twenty Minute Meals. I was SO hoping I could get that time down over the next few months, shoot!
Other than that, nothing much going on here. Status quo and all. Does anyone else think I used to be funny and have interesting things to say, and now? All gone. And this blog has only been alive for 6 months. If I lose my steam this early, how am I going to chase a kid around for 18 years? Discuss.
Oh, and I forgot to add in yesterday's post that the belly pic was after not just buffalo chicken wings but also half a pint of Ben and Jerry's Karmel Sutra ice cream. Oops. But hey! When else does a woman get free reign to eat whatever she wants? Except when I get weighed in a week and a half and the doc tells me to lay off the sweets. Until then, rock on.
Other than that, nothing much going on here. Status quo and all. Does anyone else think I used to be funny and have interesting things to say, and now? All gone. And this blog has only been alive for 6 months. If I lose my steam this early, how am I going to chase a kid around for 18 years? Discuss.
Oh, and I forgot to add in yesterday's post that the belly pic was after not just buffalo chicken wings but also half a pint of Ben and Jerry's Karmel Sutra ice cream. Oops. But hey! When else does a woman get free reign to eat whatever she wants? Except when I get weighed in a week and a half and the doc tells me to lay off the sweets. Until then, rock on.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Week 25 Belly Pic
Not five minutes before this photo was taken I was inhaling buffalo chicken wings. I love my husband for giving into my cravings and making last minute grocery runs without ever complaining. Ten points for Tim!
Also, just because the butt looks flat does not mean I am not gaining mad amounts of weight. Photos are deceiving, no?
Remember how just a few days ago I was hemming and hawing over what to do with the job situation in conjunction with the recommended "rest and relaxation" from the doctor? Yeah, still not resolved. But tomorrow! Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I vow to walk into my boss's office and sit down and actually spit the words out. I consulted my wise guru (ok, fine, my mother) and I think we worked out what my issue is with quitting. I have not been unemployed for the past ten years (college semesters excepted), and now I am facing total unemployment and lack of involvement with a group/team/whathaveyou. I don't particularly enjoy my job for multiple reasons, but I also don't hate it at all. For me, its a job, not a career. And I've been ok with that. I think my issue with leaving is more about my pride in my work and the fact that I do my job very well. I like being good at something and I am at my job, regardless of whether I get any fulfillment out of it.
I'm not concerned about being bored or not having anything to do (hello, this is why they made the blogosphere) with my days. Soon enough it will be warmer outside and I can do light gardening. Maybe perfect some recipes. Perhaps put on a dress and an apron and call myself Donna Reed. It will be nice to have this luxury of free time before the boy comes and there is no such thing as free time. And I bet when I go back and re-read this post after he is here I will laugh at myself or possibly cry with embarrassment.
So this is all to say that although I am confused about what my feelings are about quitting the job, its going to happen. And its going to happen tomorrow. Wish me luck.
Also, just because the butt looks flat does not mean I am not gaining mad amounts of weight. Photos are deceiving, no?
Remember how just a few days ago I was hemming and hawing over what to do with the job situation in conjunction with the recommended "rest and relaxation" from the doctor? Yeah, still not resolved. But tomorrow! Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I vow to walk into my boss's office and sit down and actually spit the words out. I consulted my wise guru (ok, fine, my mother) and I think we worked out what my issue is with quitting. I have not been unemployed for the past ten years (college semesters excepted), and now I am facing total unemployment and lack of involvement with a group/team/whathaveyou. I don't particularly enjoy my job for multiple reasons, but I also don't hate it at all. For me, its a job, not a career. And I've been ok with that. I think my issue with leaving is more about my pride in my work and the fact that I do my job very well. I like being good at something and I am at my job, regardless of whether I get any fulfillment out of it.
I'm not concerned about being bored or not having anything to do (hello, this is why they made the blogosphere) with my days. Soon enough it will be warmer outside and I can do light gardening. Maybe perfect some recipes. Perhaps put on a dress and an apron and call myself Donna Reed. It will be nice to have this luxury of free time before the boy comes and there is no such thing as free time. And I bet when I go back and re-read this post after he is here I will laugh at myself or possibly cry with embarrassment.
So this is all to say that although I am confused about what my feelings are about quitting the job, its going to happen. And its going to happen tomorrow. Wish me luck.
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