I think I'm taking this whole thing too seriously...

:-)

After the great Trip and Fall of 2007, I've been thinking that maybe I'm being a touch too paranoid, even for being a first-time pregger. It may be because my mood is improving as the holidays approach, but I'm finding that I have increasing urges to just run around the room and make funny noises and freak everyone out ;-)

I decided to take stock of how I've been feeling lately, and what things are changing, versus the things that stay the same. **WARNING - May be too much information for many people; feel free to skip it**

Changes:

1. The belly, obviously. My waist is now measuring nearly 10" more than pre-pregnancy.
2. The breasticles. Oh, my good, the boobage. I didn't think it could get worse, but it did. And the funniest thing - they don't look bigger compared to the belly. My little brother, who has been following my progress through weekly online photos, commented last week "Boobies so small!" when, in actual fact, they're probably nearly a full cup size bigger.
3. My belly button is starting to become shallow, which is the weirdest thing to be vain about. Normally I have a very nice innie, if I do say so myself, and I hate to think that it's going to pop out like a turkey timer. That just creeps me out.
4. The back pain. It's not really that bad, but it means I sit (and sleep) funny, and now I'm dealing with my usual consequence of that - the painful, swollen sit-bone. (Yes, my ass hurts. Deal with it.) It's interfering with my knitting time, because I can't sit the way I want to, but since I didn't promise anyone any Christmas gifts, it's all good.
5. The *ahem* gaseousness. So far the only person it affects is me (because my entire family knows that I can fall into a vat of crap and come out smelling like a rose!), but my suffering does affect Hubby indirectly. Some days (though thankfully there are fewer) I'm completely sidelined by the pain, and I can tell it's hard on him to see me hurting. It's also hard to explain to people why you look like you're going to roll over and die when in that state.
6. The *ahem* potty parade. I haven't slept more than an hour at a time since August. I figure it's just training for the next 18 years.
7. The constant low-level nausea. I've learned to adapt, drink fizzy things to settle it, and make it through most work-days incident free.
8. I, the consumate coffee connoisseur, can't stand the stuff anymore, even though I'm allowed a cup a day. We're coffee snobs, and only grind and drink the good stuff, but I just have no interest in it. (Star$$ peppermint mochas, on the other hand, are juuuuuust fine.)
   

Things that haven't changed:

1. I am still a night owl, even though I do need 10 hours of rest. Makes my days very weird.
2. I still enjoy most of the foods that I did pre-pregnancy, now that the nausea is under control. It sucks that I'm not allowed many of my faves, though (blue cheese, sushi, imported fresh cheese, it's all about the cheese).
3. The obsession with cooking. Even when I feel crappy, and don't want to eat, I still love to cook. As long as it isn't shrimp curry, the smell of which always turns my stomach.
4. The emotional episodes. I thought about it, and for the last number of years, I've had emotional outbreaks, including wanting to cry for no reason, at about the same frequency. Most of the time before it was due to PMS, or just really stressful periods at work, and now it's hormonal, but the frequency is about the same.
5. I'm still a procrastinator. I know I should be planning out some furniture rearrangements, start thinking about babyproofing the living room (and getting rid of some of our crap), and make lists of what we need. I also know that versions of those lists can be found on the internet, the furniture is sparse enough that it can be rearranged in an hour, and that the crap in the livingroom is Hubby's, and therefore his job ;-)

Next Monday will be the halfway mark... woo-hoo!

My support system.

Even though we're rather isolated down here, I have to keep giving props to my wonderful support system, that's scattered around the continent.

First off, there's my mom. She hasn't been pregnant in nearly 25 years, but still has so much advice and love to give. She's my first line of defense.

There's a tie for second place - and these two girls have been tied with each other for almost 20 years.

A., who is back in my university city, has no children yet (just a fiancé, whom I adore). Even so, she's just over the moon about Bean, and loves to hear all the details, even the gory ones.

Then there's C., who already has three kids, all under the age of five (God bless her little mothering heart). She's my closest friend who's been pregnant, and due to her job has a wealth of information about pregnancy and health at her fingertips. After I called my mother last night, I called her and she saved my sanity.

You see, last night I went arse over teakettle, slipping on some wet leaves that are on all the sidewalks around here. My belly didn't even hit the ground, although I really messed up both of my hands, along with my left knee, not to mention my shoulder and chest muscles which took the brunt of the impact. (Typing is fine, provided I don't put too much pressure on my wrists.)

My logical brain knows that I'd probably have to do a lot worse to even wake Bean up in there, since s/he's so well padded and cushioned. My hormonal brain, however, cried for hours. At the insistence of Hubby, I called C., and she comforted me, reassured me, then laughed at me in a very good natured way. She then told me about how she fell when she was nearly 7 months pregnant with her first boy, and her belly bounced off of the icy pavement. She said that her own husband laughed at her bruise for weeks, but only after her OB reassured her that both she and baby were completely fine.

I'm pretty sure that, had I not called her, I would've lain awake all last night, dragged myself to emergency this morning, and wasted the whole day to find out that I'm fine. I feel fine, I have no pain or any other symptoms, and I even think I can feel some real somersaults. But I needed that phone call to believe my logical brain.

Thanks, C., I love you!

Ugh.

This morning we had our 17+ week check-up, and all is well. I still can't say for sure that I can feel Bean doing somersaults in there, but we listened to the hearbeat, and s/he moved around enough during that time that the Doc had to reposition the doppler several times.

Maybe it's a result of being tired (early appointment) or the french fry thing isn't working anymore, but I feel like crap warmed over right now. I also had some healthy, fiber-y cereal at lunch, though. Maybe that pushed my stomach over the edge.

As long as I can make it through my conference call, I'll be good.

Does this qualify as a craving?

The only thing I can think of eating for lunch lately is french fries. With ketchup. And mayonnaise. Mayo on fries is common in some places, but I'm not sure if it is here.

Plus, it's cheap. I can get my lunch for $1.60 that way; anything from the caf that's remotely approaching healthy is $6 or $7.

I'll eat fruit for supper, I promise.

What's up with this weirdness?

I've always been a pale-skinned person. I have never tanned, I can burn within minutes of being outside. I don't have red hair (naturally; sometimes I help it along), but during the summer I freckle like a ginger kid on my cheeks and arms.

I read that there can be pigmentation changes during pregnancy, and I expected some, but I ended up with only two so far.

Two freckles, very dark, one on my upper lip and one on my lower. I've never freckled on my lips before, and it makes me look like I've forgotten to use my napkin after lunch.

I wonder what's in store for the next few months?

Still awake.

I should be sleeping, or at least preparing to, but this evening has been crazy.

I came home from work exhausted, and looking forward to an evening alone. Hubby has to do a 24-hour time course at work, which means he won't be home until midnight. I decided to use up some of my fridge-inhabitants to make a risotto that I'd been planning for about 4 days, as a way to keep busy and make some good ice-box leftovers for the rest of the week.

I ended up burning half the components, and nearly setting off the fire alarm. I now have a whole whack of bland risotto and an expensive pile of burnt sage and pancetta ;-)

Fortunately, I'm not too disappointed - sure, it tastes a lot better with the pancetta, but it's just a fancy word for bacon, which I don't necessarily need. Plus, I can make up for it with good parmesan! It'll still be a huge improvement for lunch over my single-serving mac and cheese that I've been resorting to in the past little while. I'm too tired in the mornings to make a decent fresh sandwich, and I don't like buying cafeteria food.

So, now that my food is refrigerated, and (half) the dishes are done, I still have to settle in to wait for Hubby. I know I should try and sleep, but I'll likely just lie awake and get really frustrated with myself. I could knit, but I'm just bone tired today. I think I'll curl up in my favourite chair and catch up on some TV that I've missed.

Hopefully that will keep me occupied - I'm usually OK with flying solo during the day, but at night, especially now that the time change means earlier darkness, I'm more likely to go wacky.

Happy Anniversary, Dearest.

A brief tally for 2 years married:

1 wedding
2 apartments
2 Christmases as husband and wife
2 PhD defenses
4 job interviews
1 graduation ceremony
countless plane rides
16 weeks of Bean

And a lifetime left to look forward to.

Love you.

On being alone.

One of the things that's been weighing on my mind lately is our present isolated state, here in a state and country where everything of necessity is a car ride (or plane ride) away, and we've only got good walking shoes, and enough cash to get us home once or twice a year.

Because it takes me a while to rev up through the queasiness when I wake up, I have been spending a lot of mornings by myself in our apartment. Hubby quietly gets up and gets himself ready, because I'm desperate for the extra sleep these days, so by the time I get up, eat, wait for my stomach to settle, eat again, and get ready for work, I've been bumping about alone for 2 hours. This is usually followed by working in my lab, where I'm the sole employee and tenant of our lab space. Monday through Friday - lather, rinse, and repeat.

This is compounded by the fact that we haven't managed to make many friends outside of work, and are in a bit of a different life stage than many of Hubby's co-workers (although I like them all very much - some of us share the same sick sense of humour). Evenings and weekends are spent cleaning, knitting, watching TV, and talking about what's in store for us.

Most nights I don't notice the fact that I can't run next door and have tea with my best grad-school friend, or that I can't make plans to go for breakfast and shopping with my best childhood friend; during our last months at home, I tried to appreciate these things as much as I could, and not take those people for granted. But, some days I can't help but feel sad that, for the majority of this pregnancy (or at least until I join prenatal classes and make some mommy-friends), I'll be physically alone, separated from loved ones by thousands of miles and an international border.

(Hubby is excluded from these calculations, but is VERY much appreciated and loved and is my strength every single day).

All this was starting to get me down, until I realized something a few days ago.

For the rest of this pregnancy, and indeed for the rest of my life from now on, I will never, for even a moment, be alone.

I love you, Bean.