I love canteloupe.

So of course that's the size of our baby this week, which means I'm on a no-canteloupe diet until next Tuesday.  Suck.

Our baby is now 34 weeks developed, leaving 6 weeks for it to pack on some weight and get ready to join this world.  I wonder when it will feel real?  Probably when the little bugger emerges from the womb and we realize we're stuck together for life.  I'm sure there will be crying from both parties as this reality sinks in.

I'd like to take this moment and openly admit that I probably should have (I know there is still time) the baby books.  Instead, I'm using one as a doorstop and the rest have either been returned to their owners who lovingly let me borrow them thinking I'd read them or collecting dust somewhere in our house.  Of course I want to be a good parent!  Of course I want my baby to be happy!  Of course I want him to sleep through the night, be a genius, have perfect pitch, read at age 2, identify portugal on a map at age 3, and roll his R's (this is so much harder than it sounds).  But I just want to do it our way.  :)  I know that the minute I crack a book and begin to learn the "right" way or several "right" ways, I'll lose all self confidence that I can raise this baby into a stable man.  I'll be bogged down with rigidity and rules, which just doesn't work with my personality.

I wonder if after a sleepless night of crying, those books will become a life saver?  Maybe.

I have the same approach to labor & delivery.  Clearly, it's going to happen.  I'm very aware that this baby will exit my body one way or another, but I'm not sure how to develop a plan for it.  How in the world can I plan for something when I have NO idea what it will be like.  I'm playing it by ear.  If I need drugs, I'll ask for them.  If I want to soak in a tub, I'll do it.  If I want to listen to my ipod, I'll be sure that it's fully charged.  My plan is to be open to what my body is telling me.  If that means that I barely make it to 1/2 centimeter before I beg for medical invervention, then I won't be disappointed in that.  If my body tells me that this can't happen, I will clearly pack up my things, politely thank the medical team for their help, and get in my car and head home.

The bottom line is, I trust my doctor.  I believe if she tells me I need something, it's because I really need it.  I also trust Chris and know that he'll have read a ton more than me about labor and delivery, so I can divert decisions to him.

The plan:  be open
The goal:  baby out & healthy
The reward:  TCBY on the way home (oh and a baby)

I'm back, or I'm slowly on my way back.

Never underestimate the power of food.  I can't say that it was just the food that finally ended the 2 day crying spree, but the combination of Chris and mushroom risotto did the trick.  Sometime around Tuesday at 7pm, the tears dried up and I started to feel human again.  Thanks to everyone who called, messaged or just thought about me during what was a minor emotional breakdown.  And thanks to Chris, whom I'm sure was one more cry fest away from panic.  I love you more than words.

It's probably time I learned a lesson in thankfulness.  If you've read even 2 days worth of this blog, then you know I'm at my best when I can put things in a list.  So, here we go again:
I am thankful:

• that the guy at work hasn't clipped his toenails at his desk this week
• for my dad, who I know loves me to eternity and back - forever
• for Chris:  marrying you was the best decision I've ever made
• for that mushroom risotto that might just have saved my life
• for this sweet baby, my son, that continues to thrive and whom I love so passionately it hurts in the best possible way
• for material things, like our comfortable house, good jobs, underwear that still fits, and candy corn
• that the creepy sacker at Kroger didn't molest my stomach last time I saw him
• for my family:  distance is something I'll have to tolerate, but it is my mission to ensure that this boy is raised knowing how lucky he is to have you.  We're lucky that love knows no distance.
• for my friends:  new and old, you are the best there ever was

33 weeks and a little reality

I find people that are always happy a little annoying.  I appreciate a positive outlook just as much as the next sarcastic girl, but sometimes a girl's just gotta cry.  Since I've decided to embrace putting my personal life on the world wide web, I might as well include the good, bad and the ugly.  And yesterday, quite frankly was as ugly as it's ever been.

I literally cried myself to sleep (subsequently, I've only cried twice today) last night.  I don't even have a valid reason to cry, which only made me cry harder.  I cried because I felt guilty that I have so much to be thankful for, yet I feel so sad.  I cried because my baby won't get to grow up around my family.  I cried because my mom hasn't spoken to me in months.  I cried for my favorite pajama pants that are now too small.  I cried about everything and everyone.  I cried so openly and for so long that it even scared me.

This is real life after all and even though I am thankful for this baby, my family, my husband, my dogs, stability and much more - it can still be hard and little lonely at times.

I don't know the answer to getting out of this little funk, I'm hoping to ride it out with time and giant bag of candy corn.  Fingers crossed that I've found the perfect combination for a little late in pregnancy rally.

Our baby, the jicama?

Why would anyone compare our sweet baby to this horrible potato, onion fruit thing?  The fruit and vegetable comparisons were funny at first, but this one just kind of irritates me.  8 weeks and 8 random fruit to go.

I feel like each week that I celebrate this baby's growth it becomes more and more like my 16th birthday. I wait for nearly a year anticipating this day, knowing that it will forever change my life.  Time drags on, my friends have their big days and then FINALLY my day has come.  Or at least it will eventually.  I know, just like when I woke up on that fantastic day and drove my first solo route to school - it would never be the same.  I hope there are signs cheering me on the entire route, just like when I was 16 and my mom painstakingly posted words of encouragement all along that route to school.  I can't wait.  56 days to go!

Chris and I had our first lamaze class, which was really, really fun.  Here are the highlights in no particular order:
1.  The gigantic mexican guy next to us falling asleep (and snoring) during the birth video.  How someone can sleep through that carnage is beyond me.
2.  The guy on our other side asking the teacher if there will be a full or queen bed in the recovery room...for him.
3.  Our teachers nipples making an appearance throughout the day, sometimes both - sometimes just one.  I guess it was a little cold in there.
4.  Chris having to rub me with all kind of fantastic things, incuding but not limited to a paint brush roller.  He did at some point ask when we would reverse it and the pregnant women would rub their husbands, to which I replied, like any woman would "when you push a watermelon out of your vagina."
5.  Chris asking me on the way out "So you're going to get an epidural right?  That seems like the way to go."

Now, some pictures:

 My view from the toilet.  I can't imagine why she looks so miserable?

 A very special gift....

 from 3 very special dogs.  I'm still trying to figure out which one typed the order in online.

I pretend to hate football Sunday, but really it's kind of awesome.

Single digits...less than 9 weeks to go.

I know that it should not come as a surprise that this baby's arrival is imminent, but it is.  Sometimes, when I wake out of a deep sleep it hits me that I'm pregnant, now VERY pregnant and I laugh.  Then I laugh again when I try to get out of bed to pee...for the 3rd time.  I sort of have to rock myself off of the mattress onto my feet.  I am glad there are no mirrors in the bedroom because I am pretty positive the whole ordeal is very unattractive.

Here are some things I miss:
1.  Seeing my feet
2.  Being able to put my underwear on without falling over
3.  Chai lattes
4.  99% of my wardrobe
5.  Sitting indian style in my desk chair (of course this could be less about the baby and more about the growing size of my thighs)
6.  Going more than 14 days without being weighed in and judged like the cows at the county fair

Here are some things I love:
1.  All the sympathy I get for carrying this baby in such a hot summer, it doesn't make me any less sweaty but it feels nice to be recognized
2.  Feeling the baby move or hiccup, this will never get old or less amazing
3.  His room
4.  Getting gifts  :)  I'm sure this makes me sound selfish, but I do love it - I don't care what you think.
5.  Starting to plan for 3 months off work - hooray!!
6.  Folding all his little clothes and being amazed that anything that small has ever existed
7.  That I have finally been able to sit outside without danger of heat stroke
8.  High school football (ok it isn't baby related, but I do love it

Something I do not love:
1.  The guy at the office that clips his finger nails MAYBE even his toes - AT HIS DESK.

Funny questions/conversations/statements I've had/heard lately:
"Rikki Lake had some seriously dark nipples during pregnancy." - wha?!
"Jewish people wouldn't drive a Mercedes, it's like telling Hitler you love him" - loose translation
"We'll need to leave Lamaze class early in order to get to the UNT game.  I doubt we'll miss anything" - I love my husband
"Everyone loves a poop story" - not true

Cheers to 62 more days of pregnancy!

30 weeks!

Our little cabbage is about 16 inches long and almost 3 lbs.  He (it is so nice to not have to type it or he/she) is very active these days, which I enjoy.  He has also starting getting, or I've just started being able to feel it, the hiccups.  Hiccups in utero feel like a tiny rhythmic but very light kick.  When I first felt them (appx 5:30 am) I woke up Chris so he could feel too.  And bless his sweet, sweet soul, he didn't even blink a second of anger for being woken up before dawn.  I love him.

I didn't think I'd ever say this, but maybe I'll miss being pregnant when it's over?  There is something so remarkable about carrying, nurturing, and feeling your baby grow within. 

On the other hand, there are a number of areas of my body I can no longer see - I won't miss that.  I probably won't miss heartburn waking me up in the middle of the night.  I definitely won't miss my doctor's lecture about how a cinnamon roll for breakfast has NO NUTRITIONAL VALUE and is just like eating dessert for breakfast.  Maybe so doc, but 8 months ago dessert for breakfast was a completely acceptable thing.  I, for sure, won't miss sleeping on my side, although I have to say this is immensely improved with the purchase of a new mattress a few days ago.  It is doubtful I'll miss the feeling of my stomach touching my thighs, a feeling that just doesn't seem quite right.  I won't miss the hormone shifts that make me a little like jekyll and hyde.  I won't miss maternity clothes, that used to be so liberating with that stretchy panel, but now just feel ugly, gigantic and out of fashion.

Anyway, I digress...

We had our shower this past weekend, which was really fun.  There is nothing like having all of your favorite people in one place.  It means a lot when people go out of their way to show up for the important times of your life.  The older I get, the more I value just that - showing up.  No one is better at showing up then my family in NY, particularly my aunt Vic.  She has made the drive from NY to TX for every important time in my life and the gesture does not go unnoticed.  I am overcome with thankfulness for the show of support and feel so lucky to have people like her in my life.  They may not be close in proximity, but they are close in all the ways that matter.

A special thank you to Catherine, Sarah, Amanda & Kelli for setting everything up and making such a great environment for fun!  Thank you ladies for a fantastic night, thank you thank you thank you.

Our son!

I have a few stories to tell today, one of which even Chris has never heard.

First, the short version of finding out our baby's sex.
We went into the sonogram having decided that we'll ask the sonographer to write it down for us IN CASE we decided we wanted to know.  And so she did.  Then we walked out of the sonographer's office into the hospital lobby, sat down and opened the dang envelope.  :)  We made it approximately 3 minutes and 10 feet holding that fateful envelope before we opened it.  I apologize now for the fib of "we aren't finding out."  It seemed easier than, we know but aren't telling.  At any rate, the next decision we made was that we'd share our news at our shower.  It was really fun and I highly recommend doing things this way.  First, it was sweet and special for us to find out together on our own terms (that lobby has never meant more to me).  Second, telling people in person when you are way farther along is fun.  Third, if you tell people AT your shower then you've avoided getting 15 sailor suits for your litle fella (none of which he'll ever wear).

My second story is one that might be moderately embarassing to reveal, but what the heck.
Chris and I decided to stop preventing pregnancy in January.  So of course on January 2nd, I starting obsessively reading about pregnancy, conception, etc.  While I was reading about that, I heard about a conception psychic.  And then I paid $7 to get one.  :)  On my honor, this is the email I received from her:

Your reading reveals that your BFP news comes the end of February/beginning of March from a cycle that begins in February. The baby shows as a boy and his EDD/birth date is referenced the month of November 2011 - specific reference to the 7th and 16th.

The best onesie ever: