Pregnancy Craving

Suddenly I have this strong yearning to feel a stubbly man jaw rubbed against my belly button. Curious.

How it feels on Day 227

Some of you did not know that I have a tattoo on my belly. Because I got this tat on a whim in Waterloo, while there with my best friend for the state pool tournament, I am a little insecure that it may not mean what they told me it means. It's supposed to be the Japanese character for "beautiful" -- and my best gal got the Chinese symbol for "woman" tattooed on her arm. Well, we think so, anyway. It's probably safe to say that Waterlooian tattoo artists (um, tattoo artists in general?) are not exactly well known for their foreign language prowess, so it may well say "ham sandwich" or, um, I don't know, "My kid's an honor student." I'm afraid to find out.

What I do know is that it's getting bigger by the day, and I can no longer see it in person. I enjoyed taking these "forced perspective" pics using my camera phone, and I thought y'all might like them too.

It does not matter what the ultrasound told us.

Regardless of what the ultrasound technician told us back in May--and I'm still not telling what they told us--I know now that we will probably end up having a girl.

Why, you ask?

Well, because I'm pretty sure I just came up with the most awesome name for a son, EVAR.

And no, I can't tell you what it is.

Isn't this annoying? I'm not telling you anything, really. Only that if I have another son, he will be endowed with another splendid moniker, fully able to contend with big brother Arlo's.

Oh, and if we do have a girl, she'll have a pretty sweet name too.

Just sit tight for eight more weeks (or less, I hope) and all will be revealed. I'm so excited!

Notes from the Underbelly

We all know that a pregnant woman's protruding belly makes it difficult task for her to keep her shirts and dresses free of food stains. Not only does it stick out and grab hold of any falling morsels that would normally fall to the floor, her lap, or the table... it makes it impossible to actually get close enough to her food if she's sitting at a table. The whole notion of "bellying up" to a table is a whole new prospect when you're great with child.

I just want to say that the top of the belly is not the only danger zone. You also have to remember to check the underbelly for debris and stains. Twice today I have discovered junk on my shirt (a white one, of course) on the underside of my belly---and this is troublesome, because in general, other people can see this area of my shirt when I'm walking around but I can't!

I think the last incident--coffee grounds across the lower abdominal region--must've come from when I was washing my hands in our coffee/supply room and my tummy might have grazed across the counter top. Earlier today it was also a coffee spot. Methinks I should be mindful of my belly position when in the coffee area!

Not only that, but I think I might be wise to avoid white shirts from here on out. We'll see.

Oh, and if you see me walking around with some food or other junk hanging off the bottom of my shirt--where it is likely to be hidden from my view--please just tell me. I'd like to try to maintain some semblance of presentability, in spite of my burgeoning shape. Thanks!

Happy Times

Good times this week! I won't complain about how having a holiday off in the middle of the week threw off everyone's rhythm and made us all a little crazy. Sometimes crazy is good. Believe me, if someone offered to let me have Wednesdays off for the rest of my life, I would not hesitate for one second.

We'd been talking up the fireworks thing for a couple of weeks with Arlo, because this year was his first fireworks show. I remember way back when (2001?) my sister's little boy, Michael, then three, experienced his first (I think) fireworks display, and he did not like it one bit. I remember Michael crying and holding his hands over his ears. But then, his mom and dad had just moved him overseas from Denmark to the States, and they'd only arrived (in Florida, in the insufferable July heat) the day before... so you can't call his reaction standard, necessarily. And you certainly couldn't blame him.

We weren't sure how our boy would react--but, true to Arlo form, he embraced the experience with rapt wonder, and general enthusiasm. He stayed up way past his bedtime, with the only noticeable (and possibly unrelated) effect being a temporary dip in his potty-training progress.

Even three days later, while we were driving in the car, he burst out with a spontaneous "BOOM! Crackle, crackle, crackle!" from the back seat. These were sounds we practiced in preparation for the big show, in my attempt to make him understand that it would be very noisy and FUN. Apparently it was a successful tactic.

Saturday was Mara & Rockne's annual Pig Roast--an event that seems to get better with each passing year. That's where the photo above was taken, by the hostess herself. Big fun! You can see more pics right here on Mara's flickr page.

Last week my regular obstetric visit to the doctor yielded a troublingly high blood sugar reading, so I had to go back to the lab on Friday for additional testing, to diagnose or rule out gestational diabetes. And by additional testing, I mean a grueling morning with no food except for a bottle of hell's own nectar (the glucose solution they make you drink on an empty stomach), and hourly blood draws for three hours. Did I mention I wasn't allowed to eat?

NOT EATING is my number-one least favorite thing to do in the morning.

All in all, it actually was not as miserable as I expected (if you ignore the fact that, after my morning at the lab, the car wouldn't start and I had to get it towed... but anyway). In fact, it ended up being a pretty tolerable morning involving a LOT of knitting, and catching up on some podcasts that I'd been saving for a rainy day.

The best part- I finally got the call from my doctor's office this morning, and I do NOT have gestational diabetes! Though it would have been completely manageable and temporary if I had been diagnosed (it goes away when the baby is born), I would have had to go on a very strict diet, and possibly deal with insulin injections and such. Not to mention worries about the baby's health, and the micromanagement of every morsel of food I would consider allowing to pass my lips.

But HA! Keep the ice cream coming, people. I dodged a bullet this time. Pass the brownies, please.

Not that I'm worried...

...but it feels good to have passed the 25-week mark in my pregnancy. They say that after 25 weeks, a baby's chances for survival (should it be born prematurely, God forbid) are 50 to 80 percent--that's compared with 1 to 10 percent before 22 weeks.



What else is special about this week? It's the second-to-last week of my second trimester ... and it shows. I'm at that stage now when I look in the mirror (or look down on my tummy from above) and I cannot believe that I still have three months left to continue getting bigger.



It's exciting to be contemplating the "home stretch," but of course I'm also steeling myself for the increasing diminishment of my comfort level.

Mom's Day pics

Here's one of me and my dad, comparing bellehs. No offense, Dad, but I think mine wins. Click on the flickr link over there on the right to see lots more shots of Mother's day shenanigans.

"Alright, Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close-up."

Today is the day that we get to take a look at our baby for the first time!

Everyone wants to know if we're going to find out the sex of the baby, but that's not what I'm most excited about.

I've been feeling the baby move for weeks now, and building a quiet relationship with this invisible little one. I can't wait to see those little arms and legs, the bottom of the foot--a classic ultrasound view--the string of pearls that make up the baby's backbone, to watch the baby stretch and kick, and maybe even blow bubbles or suck its thumb. If we're lucky, we'll get a glimpse of the baby's face--a ghostly, negative image of a face that we will see in full color in a handful of months, that we will adore for the rest of our lives.

If we're even luckier, we'll learn that our baby is healthy, flawless, and just the right size.

And yes, we might get to see what's between the baby's legs. But I don't think I'm gonna tell.

Half Baked

This is the 20 week mark in my pregnancy, which means that we are halfway to Baby Town! Here's a pic that my dad took with his cameraphone this weekend.

Obviously, we've been woefully lax in the Taking Photos of the Developing Baby Bump department... but we weren't very diligent with my first pegnancy either, so at least it's not because this child is less loved or less eagerly anticipated. It's more like, "Why would I want a lot of pictures floating around of me at my fattest?"

No, but seriously. I'm not really that vain--I just don't think much about documenting how I look on the outside. The important thing is, I feel fantastic most of the time, the baby is healthy, and we are all so excited about meeting him or her!

The due date is September 29. Can't wait!