Yikes. Now you can see why my pants no longer button...and that belly photos may be a very, very bad idea.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Tittie Fairy
At 10 weeks, anatomical parts of me are unquestionably expanding. My pants became uncomfortable weeks ago, leaving me with 2 pairs I could legitimately button and 3 pairs I could rig with a rubber band, cover with a long top, and be on my way in. I’ve read that most women are able to wear their pre-pregnancy pants with no problem until the 10-12 week mark, but surely that only applies to the women who couldn’t keep food down. Though I’ve had my moments, luckily, I haven’t missed a meal, or a morning snack, or an afternoon snack.
This leads me to my next point: while I may be ahead of the scale on the pants growth rate, I’m not quite up to the hype on the visits from The Tittie Fairy. Don’t get me wrong, I am already very well blessed. The generous fairy bestowed her good fortune on me sometime in college, because I certainly never had any in high school. In fact, my nickname used to be “Half Court” because I am pretty sure I wore a training bra to high school graduation. Things changed though, and years ago when Greg and I met, he actually asked if they were real (they are – and apparently gravity was good to me in my 20s).
Though my bras have gotten snug and I’ve had to retire a few and upsize a few, especially my sports bras, I have yet to look in the mirror and think to myself “Dang! How big are these girls going to get?” I’ve read that women can grow a cup to two cup sizes in the first trimester, but that hasn’t happened, or hasn’t happened yet. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying, maybe I’ve already been blessed, which is certainly just fine with me, my lingerie drawer, and my back.
This leads me to my next point: while I may be ahead of the scale on the pants growth rate, I’m not quite up to the hype on the visits from The Tittie Fairy. Don’t get me wrong, I am already very well blessed. The generous fairy bestowed her good fortune on me sometime in college, because I certainly never had any in high school. In fact, my nickname used to be “Half Court” because I am pretty sure I wore a training bra to high school graduation. Things changed though, and years ago when Greg and I met, he actually asked if they were real (they are – and apparently gravity was good to me in my 20s).
Though my bras have gotten snug and I’ve had to retire a few and upsize a few, especially my sports bras, I have yet to look in the mirror and think to myself “Dang! How big are these girls going to get?” I’ve read that women can grow a cup to two cup sizes in the first trimester, but that hasn’t happened, or hasn’t happened yet. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying, maybe I’ve already been blessed, which is certainly just fine with me, my lingerie drawer, and my back.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
What do these photos have in common?
Greg thinks the baby's 9 week and 4 day ultrasound pic resembles....Matthew McConaughey. Why, you make ask? Apparently, it's all in the arms. Frequent TMZ.comers, you have to know that as hunky as Matthew is, he does receive a bit of ridicule for claims that his arms are too short and stubby for his long, lean, chiseled, body. Case in point, the photos. In the ultrasound photo, the baby's head is center right, and you can see one of the stubby little arms poking up to the top of the frame. Gregory has a point. What do you think?Monday, June 23, 2008
Dollar Menuaire
This morning was one of those mornings where my stomach was against me from the moment I went vertical. After activating the ol’ gag reflex while brushing my teeth (this is one of those bizarre things that happens to you which you find out is completely normal) I drag myself into the shower, dress, and force myself to eat breakfast. I’ve been having pretty good luck with bagels for breakfast, but this morning, it did nothing to settle my rebelling stomach. Fighting it on my way to the office, it came to me…being pregnant is very similar to having a hang over.
Think about it. After a hard night of drinking, you wake up with stomach issues, and you definitely have bathroom issues (to keep this as PC as possible, usually those issues rhyme with deer mitts). This is what pregnancy is like. So, I think to myself, what cures a hangover – or at least makes it bearable enough to throw on sweatpants and shades and leave the house? Grease. Good, solid, artery clogging grease. After the hardest drinking night of the year, it’s been my experience that a good New Year’s Day hash brown casserole works wonders. Since I didn’t have Beth at my disposal to whip up a casserole, I had to find the next best thing on my way to work - McDonald’s hash browns. A spin through the drive-thru and two hash browns for $1 later, my stomach feels like a champ! Thanks, dollar menu! You saved the day!
Think about it. After a hard night of drinking, you wake up with stomach issues, and you definitely have bathroom issues (to keep this as PC as possible, usually those issues rhyme with deer mitts). This is what pregnancy is like. So, I think to myself, what cures a hangover – or at least makes it bearable enough to throw on sweatpants and shades and leave the house? Grease. Good, solid, artery clogging grease. After the hardest drinking night of the year, it’s been my experience that a good New Year’s Day hash brown casserole works wonders. Since I didn’t have Beth at my disposal to whip up a casserole, I had to find the next best thing on my way to work - McDonald’s hash browns. A spin through the drive-thru and two hash browns for $1 later, my stomach feels like a champ! Thanks, dollar menu! You saved the day!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Warning: Be nice to the pregnant lady!
So yesterday, my evil nurse midwife, Susan, calls to tell me that I’m being referred to a fetal specialist for a consultation, but didn’t tell me why when she called. I was caught so off guard that I just said ok, and hung up with her. Off the phone, I freaked out because I immediately assumed that something bad had come back in the tests I’d taken or they saw something else of concern in the ultrasound. I called Greg in tears, and he attempted to calm me down and suggested that I call the Doctor’s office back to ask questions. That sounded reasonable, so I called but had to leave a message. During the 2+ hours I was waiting to hear back, my car benefited from some nervous energy as I actually took it to get washed – something I do approx. every 1.5 years.
Well, as it turns out, the non-evil nurse, Lee, who actually called me back let me know that they are taking extra precautions b/c of the twin situation, and want to closely monitor the development and growth of the surviving twin. Why didn’t it occur to evil nurse Susan to tell me that? It seems so simple, especially when you are dealing with someone whose hormone levels surge to new extremes on a daily basis. So, I am having another ultrasound and exam at the specialist’s office Monday afternoon, 6/23. Hopefully, this visit will do nothing more than put my mind at ease and allow me to get another glimpse of our tiny human.
Moving on, today, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling better about Monday’s appointment and I’ve been virtually nausea free all day, which was cause for some celebration because I could have anything I wanted for lunch! Well, I decided that Quizno’s turkey bacon guacamole would hit the spot. But because of the listeria risk (a bacteria that can grow in deli meats that can have a severe effect on pregnant women), I asked to sub in chicken instead of turkey.
Well, the English- as-a-second-language guy making my sandwich didn’t care, so I pressed on in the line. However, the lady that rang me up lost it on me and gave me a really hard time about it, telling me, “we don’t do that! It’s either chicken or turkey, which is it?!” Well, it’s obviously chicken be-atch. If substitutions are that much of an issue, she needs to tell her employees that in two languages. I’d totally take Quizno’s off my lunch rotation, but that would really limit me now that Subway is off the list due to me finding a wood shard in my mouth after taking a bit of my sandwich…..a story for a different post, my friends. All in all, I suggest that nurse midwifes and sandwich makers be nice to me, because if you catch me in a hormone surge, I am not going to be nice back, and I won’t feel bad about it!
Well, as it turns out, the non-evil nurse, Lee, who actually called me back let me know that they are taking extra precautions b/c of the twin situation, and want to closely monitor the development and growth of the surviving twin. Why didn’t it occur to evil nurse Susan to tell me that? It seems so simple, especially when you are dealing with someone whose hormone levels surge to new extremes on a daily basis. So, I am having another ultrasound and exam at the specialist’s office Monday afternoon, 6/23. Hopefully, this visit will do nothing more than put my mind at ease and allow me to get another glimpse of our tiny human.
Moving on, today, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling better about Monday’s appointment and I’ve been virtually nausea free all day, which was cause for some celebration because I could have anything I wanted for lunch! Well, I decided that Quizno’s turkey bacon guacamole would hit the spot. But because of the listeria risk (a bacteria that can grow in deli meats that can have a severe effect on pregnant women), I asked to sub in chicken instead of turkey.
Well, the English- as-a-second-language guy making my sandwich didn’t care, so I pressed on in the line. However, the lady that rang me up lost it on me and gave me a really hard time about it, telling me, “we don’t do that! It’s either chicken or turkey, which is it?!” Well, it’s obviously chicken be-atch. If substitutions are that much of an issue, she needs to tell her employees that in two languages. I’d totally take Quizno’s off my lunch rotation, but that would really limit me now that Subway is off the list due to me finding a wood shard in my mouth after taking a bit of my sandwich…..a story for a different post, my friends. All in all, I suggest that nurse midwifes and sandwich makers be nice to me, because if you catch me in a hormone surge, I am not going to be nice back, and I won’t feel bad about it!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Pregnant Brain: 2, Courtney: 0
Greg and I drove up to Lexington, KY, Friday morning to attend my grandfather's funeral. The funeral was at 2pm, so we had to leave our house by 6am to allot for the 6 hour drive and have some buffer time. I have had my bouts with nausea during my pregnancy, and it comes and goes on an inconsistent schedule. Of course, Friday was one of the worst days I've had nausea-wise. It was all I could do to shower, dress, finish packing, and get in the car with a pack of saltines without barfing. I managed to accomplish this feat, and we set out on our way.
After my upset stomach endured the shortcut to I-75 with it's sharp curves and hills, I realized after about 30 minutes of our journey that I'd left my black dress for the funeral hanging on the closet door....and nothing else I had actually packed would be remotely suitable for such an occasion.
Time was already tight, so I didn't want to backtrack, or endure those country roads again. Thus, I formed a plan to find a store in Lexington near the hotel, run in, and buy a new dress. I called ahead to alert my mom of the situation so that she could provide the assist. She gave me directions to Steinmart and went and put a few dresses on hold for me at customer service. We arrived at the store and I selected a very nice dress with plenty of time to spare. The dress was much more comfortable that the one I'd accidentally left at home (which I could barely zip due to inflating boobage). As it turns out, my mental slip provided a little distraction and comic relief to a very difficult day!
After my upset stomach endured the shortcut to I-75 with it's sharp curves and hills, I realized after about 30 minutes of our journey that I'd left my black dress for the funeral hanging on the closet door....and nothing else I had actually packed would be remotely suitable for such an occasion.
Time was already tight, so I didn't want to backtrack, or endure those country roads again. Thus, I formed a plan to find a store in Lexington near the hotel, run in, and buy a new dress. I called ahead to alert my mom of the situation so that she could provide the assist. She gave me directions to Steinmart and went and put a few dresses on hold for me at customer service. We arrived at the store and I selected a very nice dress with plenty of time to spare. The dress was much more comfortable that the one I'd accidentally left at home (which I could barely zip due to inflating boobage). As it turns out, my mental slip provided a little distraction and comic relief to a very difficult day!
Mixed Emotion Wednesday
Today’s ultrasound and meeting with the nurse midwife offered a wide range of emotions. First of all, the ultrasound was really amazing. Technology is so cool! Greg and I got to see our little jelly bean and hear the thump, thump, thump, thump of the heart beating. Check out the photo! The “halo” is the yolk sac. This gives the baby nutrients until it hooks itself up to the umbilical cord. I like to think of the umbilical cord as a beer funnel of sorts for babies. Think about it – when you want the nourishment of barley and hops, you just put your mouth on the hose, tilt your head back, and enjoy. Speaking of tilting heads, the head is towards the bottom of picture with the body coming out to the left.
All my lady parts are measuring just right and they gave me a due date of Jan. 22…or it could be the 25th. I can’t remember….there was a lot to take in during the appointment because I also got the news that the ultrasound revealed a 2nd fetus that was no longer viable. To my ears, the news was delivered like something out of a Charlie Brown cartoon: “mwah mwah mwah mwah twins.” I probably would’ve peed my pants had I not had to provide another sample minutes earlier. Apparently, I was pregnant with twins, but one stopped developing in the 6th week (the other is 7 weeks and 3 days). I was shocked because as far as I know, there is no history of twins in either of our families. I am sad, but relieved the other baby seems to be healthy. Apparently this is called “Vanishing Twins Syndrome” and is very common, especially in women over 30.
Upon alerting the “girlfriend network” stat, I heard back from Natalie, Danielle and Heather that they had all heard of this and that the women they knew all had a healthy baby from the surviving egg. The nurse midwife did say this has increased my risk of miscarriage, so that totally freaked me out. From the research I rushed to the computer to do, it seems like this is not a cause for major concern. Nevertheless, Greg and I are hoping and praying that I make it through the next several weeks ok! For more detail on vanishing twin syndrome, check this site. http://www.americanpregnancy.org/multiples/vanishingtwin.html
The good/bad news cycle of the day continued when I got the news that my paternal grandfather passed away that morning, exactly 3 months to the day after my mom’s dad passed. My grandpa "Wag" died at 98 years old and a few weeks shy of his 50th wedding anniversary with my grandma. We should all be so lucky as to live as rich and as long of a life as he did.
All my lady parts are measuring just right and they gave me a due date of Jan. 22…or it could be the 25th. I can’t remember….there was a lot to take in during the appointment because I also got the news that the ultrasound revealed a 2nd fetus that was no longer viable. To my ears, the news was delivered like something out of a Charlie Brown cartoon: “mwah mwah mwah mwah twins.” I probably would’ve peed my pants had I not had to provide another sample minutes earlier. Apparently, I was pregnant with twins, but one stopped developing in the 6th week (the other is 7 weeks and 3 days). I was shocked because as far as I know, there is no history of twins in either of our families. I am sad, but relieved the other baby seems to be healthy. Apparently this is called “Vanishing Twins Syndrome” and is very common, especially in women over 30.
Upon alerting the “girlfriend network” stat, I heard back from Natalie, Danielle and Heather that they had all heard of this and that the women they knew all had a healthy baby from the surviving egg. The nurse midwife did say this has increased my risk of miscarriage, so that totally freaked me out. From the research I rushed to the computer to do, it seems like this is not a cause for major concern. Nevertheless, Greg and I are hoping and praying that I make it through the next several weeks ok! For more detail on vanishing twin syndrome, check this site. http://www.americanpregnancy.org/multiples/vanishingtwin.html
The good/bad news cycle of the day continued when I got the news that my paternal grandfather passed away that morning, exactly 3 months to the day after my mom’s dad passed. My grandpa "Wag" died at 98 years old and a few weeks shy of his 50th wedding anniversary with my grandma. We should all be so lucky as to live as rich and as long of a life as he did.
Pregnant Brain: 1, Courtney: 0
So, we have this copier/fax/scanner machine combo at work. For the record, it’s a complicated device to get the hang of under normal circumstances. Several work days ago, I went in the copy room to fax one page to a fax number with a 770 area code. I went about my business entering the number, hitting send, and then confirming that the machine “sent.” Then I started chatting with my other co-worker, Courtney, in the copier room for a few minutes, while the copier/fax started making lots of noise. I disregarded it and kept chatting….then realized the copier was making tons of copies of something. Upon further inspection, I apparently didn’t hit “fax” at all, causing the machine to revert to “copy." That's right, I was making 770 thousand something copies of my fax. I caught it after about 300 copies….
Will karma forgive me for wasting paper if I promise to use my reusable shopping bag at Publix next time I grocery shop?
Will karma forgive me for wasting paper if I promise to use my reusable shopping bag at Publix next time I grocery shop?
Belly Photo Diary: 6 Weeks
So that my far away pals (that includes you, ITPers) can see the progress of my expanding mid-section, I plan to post pics every 2 weeks along the course of my pregnancy. So, here's the photo of what my belly looked like at 6 weeks! I only hope I can look this good again soon after the birth!
Would you like a sample?
My first Dr.’s appointment to check up on/confirm the arrival of the crib midget was May 27. I changed physician practices to go to one closer to home (thinking ahead to the labor part of this arrangement, I don't want Greg to be driving me down to Peachtree Dunwoody in Atlanta’s rush hour traffic while I'm having contractions....a home water birth without an epidural would be more pleasant than that). The usual gyno exam ensued with a few new “twists” involving a urine sample (are you seeing a theme here?) and giving vials and vials of blood samples. The lab will use my blood to test for all kinds of scary stuff - cystic fibrosis, HIV, and other birth defects in the fetus. I tried to see if I could get an extra vial for Greg to wear around his neck Angelina/Billy Bob Thornton style, but my veins were tapped out. That’s cool. I really don’t like man jewelry anyway.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Alcohol gives me away, intoxicates everyone else
The very week I discovered I was indeed preggo, confirmed by a second First Response which I administered with much more finesse, I might add, we were to head up to Charlotte to spend Memorial Day weekend with my parents. I knew my parents would be excited with the baby news. I'm their only child and thus, their only biological lifeline to a real, living, breathing grandchild. My mom's one and only clue about wanting to be a grandmother came in the form of one of the "thoughtful" newspaper articles she clips and sends to me on a regular basis. Former headline have shared stories on such gems as "How To Get Married Within a Year" and such other topics as my beloved Tar Heels flopping in the Final Four. Well, shortly after our wedding in November '06, I received an article detailing the medical research that proved the male sperm count decreased rapidly after the age of 35. Seeing as how Greg was 36 at the time, we took this as a hint that mom wanted a grandkid. Call me Nancy Drew, but I can really put two and two together.
So, here I was working on my 5th week of pregnancy, forming a human heart to be exact, debating whether to tell my parents the news because it was still so early, and unconfirmed by a physician. But the fact of the matter was, we had absolutely no way to explain why I wouldn't be consuming my usual copious amounts of wine. Short of fabricating some ridiculous tale involving a horrific medical condition and subsequent treatment we decided to tell them the news shortly after our arrival. Of course, they were thrilled! So thrilled in fact, that the good news was toasted several times with Chianti, French wine, and beer, all while I pretended to enjoy some non-alcoholic sangria I made from a recipe on babycenter.com. It's going to be a long 9 1/2 months while everyone is celebrating!
So, here I was working on my 5th week of pregnancy, forming a human heart to be exact, debating whether to tell my parents the news because it was still so early, and unconfirmed by a physician. But the fact of the matter was, we had absolutely no way to explain why I wouldn't be consuming my usual copious amounts of wine. Short of fabricating some ridiculous tale involving a horrific medical condition and subsequent treatment we decided to tell them the news shortly after our arrival. Of course, they were thrilled! So thrilled in fact, that the good news was toasted several times with Chianti, French wine, and beer, all while I pretended to enjoy some non-alcoholic sangria I made from a recipe on babycenter.com. It's going to be a long 9 1/2 months while everyone is celebrating!
Peeing on a stick = harder than it looks
When my husband Greg and I first discussed "family planning" way back in 2006, I thought 2008 sounded eons away. Then all the sudden, with a snow storm, food rations, and one mangled fender, the "ocho" just rolled right in. Of course, Greg wasted no time in reminding me of my commitment that 2008 sounded like the perfect time to start our family. It's no secret that Greg is anxious to be a father, and will be a wonderful one.
After I declared I was as ready as I'd ever be, we agreed to start "trying" after a consultation with my OB/GYN....and a trip to Couples Jamaica in April (aka my "last hurrah" with my good buddy alcohol). I expected that since we were both older, me approaching 31 and Greg on the heels of 38, that the process of trying to conceive would take months. Boy was I wrong. As soon as we took the goalie out of the game, I missed my period that very month.
So, on day 29, I made my way to the contraceptive aisle of Target and picked up a 3-pack of First Response. For good measure (also known as denial) I waited until day 32 to take the first of the tests. I read the instructions, tore the test out of the plastic wrapper, and readied myself on the toilet, only to realize that actually peeing on the stick was WAY harder than the instructions made it out to be. My "sample" ricocheted everywhere but on the indicator! The directions should really warn you to hold the test as far away from your stream as possible....or perhaps to have a bio-hazard suit on the ready. Luckily, I had consumed a 20 ounce sports water before taking the test, so I had plenty of reserves. After refocusing my efforts, I nailed the target and put the cap on the indicator to wait my 3 minutes. The indicator strip turned to "pregnant" right away....which I thought was a total fluke. Logically, I decided to do some chores and come back in 4 minutes so that it would be properly seasoned. Well, as fate would have it, the test remained positive, and I began to realize that I was actually really probably pregnant. I shared the news with Greg, who, after signing up his swimmers for the Beijing Olympics swim trials, was elated. So, the results of peeing on a little plastic stick started me on my journey of "cautious excitement," insatiable smoothie cravings, and the art of finding new ways for office supplies to secure my pants. And you guessed it - I also had to say "see you later" to my good friend alcohol, who wasn't even responsible for getting me in this delicate state!!
After I declared I was as ready as I'd ever be, we agreed to start "trying" after a consultation with my OB/GYN....and a trip to Couples Jamaica in April (aka my "last hurrah" with my good buddy alcohol). I expected that since we were both older, me approaching 31 and Greg on the heels of 38, that the process of trying to conceive would take months. Boy was I wrong. As soon as we took the goalie out of the game, I missed my period that very month.
So, on day 29, I made my way to the contraceptive aisle of Target and picked up a 3-pack of First Response. For good measure (also known as denial) I waited until day 32 to take the first of the tests. I read the instructions, tore the test out of the plastic wrapper, and readied myself on the toilet, only to realize that actually peeing on the stick was WAY harder than the instructions made it out to be. My "sample" ricocheted everywhere but on the indicator! The directions should really warn you to hold the test as far away from your stream as possible....or perhaps to have a bio-hazard suit on the ready. Luckily, I had consumed a 20 ounce sports water before taking the test, so I had plenty of reserves. After refocusing my efforts, I nailed the target and put the cap on the indicator to wait my 3 minutes. The indicator strip turned to "pregnant" right away....which I thought was a total fluke. Logically, I decided to do some chores and come back in 4 minutes so that it would be properly seasoned. Well, as fate would have it, the test remained positive, and I began to realize that I was actually really probably pregnant. I shared the news with Greg, who, after signing up his swimmers for the Beijing Olympics swim trials, was elated. So, the results of peeing on a little plastic stick started me on my journey of "cautious excitement," insatiable smoothie cravings, and the art of finding new ways for office supplies to secure my pants. And you guessed it - I also had to say "see you later" to my good friend alcohol, who wasn't even responsible for getting me in this delicate state!!
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