Shower and Tell

This weekend, I went to a shower for a fellow infertile. J is 28 weeks pregnant with a little girl, conceived via IVF at the same clinic where I went.

Before I say anymore, I should stop and say how lovely the shower was. Her sister and mother put in a lot of effort into making the party very nice. They did a spa theme, complete with candle and lotion giveaways. There was a yummy chicken salad, croissants, some amazing fruit tarts, and cheese and crackers. The cake was gorgeous. The shower was at her house, so we got to peek at the nursery, which is beautiful.

It wasn't too large of a group, so I didn't feel lost in the crowd. She got some really great gifts and was gracious during the opening. The shower game wasn't too cheesy (a purse scavenger hunt) and I knew several of her other friends. I got to hold a five week old little boy for about twenty minutes and I gobbled up every single second with him.

Okay, but you know this is going somewhere, and it is.

If one more person at that shower asked me if I was sure about my due date or if it is twins or not, I was going to scream. It started right off the bat, when I came in and the great-grandma-to-be asked me when I was due. I told her and her eyes bugged out of her head. She called J over, who is not showing very much at all, even at 28 weeks. Honestly, she doesn't even look pregnant. So, of course, Grandma starts exclaiming over how huge I am. She asks if the due date is wrong or if it's twins. She is gesturing for others to come over and compare my monstrousity of a belly with J's teeny tiny little bump. J was great, trying to get her grandma to talk about something else, but of course, she kept on going.

Finally, I managed to disengage myself from that lovely little conversation, only to have it repeated about ten times over the course of the shower. I just stuck to my usual responses:"My doctor says I am measuring just fine." "I have a forward tilting uterus." "I've been waiting for this for so long, I am glad to have a big bump so people know that I am pregnant."

I really tried not to let it get to me, but it was kind of an ego buster. My husband pointed out that they were talking about my stomach, but when I hear the word huge, I think about my chubby cheeks (north and south) and how my thighs rub together when I get out of the shower. I feel large and in charge, and I have a lot of growing left to do.

The icing on the cake was when another friend tried to take my picture. She took one shot, looked at it, shook her head, took another. Then another. I looked at the pictures on the viewfinder and my face looked so round and puffy. It probably didn't help that I was holding a plate piled with food. They were not flattering pictures. I made her delete them.

I cried on the way home. I did not want to obsess about my weight. I wanted to be happy with my healthy, growing baby. But I did not expect to hear all of these size comments. I did not know how they would affect me. I don't want to complain about something so trivial. I actually think that my belly is beautiful. When I look at it in the mirror, it looks like the pregnant belly that I have always wanted. But then people start commenting, and I lose that self-confidence.

I Will Carry You

For those that have lost a baby, this song honors another lost angel, but may also soothe your own grieving heart.

Karate Kid

It's really neat to learn about my son's personality before he even is born.

For example, he does not like to be crowded. If I lean over too far for something or bend over to tie an errant shoelace, I get a nice swift kick to an internal organ.

He is like me and likes to sleep in. I never feel any movement before 9 AM, unless I dare to affront his personal space, then see above.

He is most active between 7 and 8 at night and I mean crazy busy. I don't have any idea what he is doing in there, but I sense he is laughing as he does it. So far, his activities have not kept or woken me up during the night, so I can't be as sure of what he does during those hours.

One of my pregnant girlfriend's baby is most active at about 6 AM, so she has taken to calling her Early Bird. She is a few weeks ahead of me and the kicks are so strong, they wake her up every morning, at almost the exact same time. She doesn't even set her alarm clock anymore.

I have read in pregnancy books that the schedule a fetus keeps in the womb is very similar to the schedule that the newborn will have out of it. If I am lucky enough to have a baby that sleeps in until 9 AM, I will be a very happy camper indeed!

In Which My Happy Side Returns

First of all, thank you, Dear Readers. Your comments yesterday helped to smooth my ruffled feathers. If I had a nickname lately, it would have to be Mrs. Oversensitive. I thought that I was doing pretty well with the rollercoaster ride of pregnancy, but I must confess, I think that the coaster might be off the tracks lately.

Not that I don't have a right to be a little hurt about my husband's belly aversion, but that is only the surface of the troubled waters that seem to be my pregnant emotions. I feel a little like Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde lately. I was so sad on Tuesday that I was crying on and off all day. Even Little Man's movements didn't bring the usual smile to my face.

Yesterday, however, my mood completely switched around. I met a girlfriend for lunch and afterward, we made a quick stop at Baby's R Us. I showed her some things that I had registered for, and while I was hemming and hawing over which high chair I wanted to add to the list, I saw it. . . the Highchair of My Dreams. I love that it is wood, matches our dining room furniture, and has a washable cover. I love that it reminds me so much of the high chair that my parents had for me when I was a baby. I went to scan in and found that it was on clearance - meaning that it can't be added to the registry. And I was disappointed. But then I saw the price tag - $99.00. I thought maybe I should just get it, even though we have decided not to make any major baby purchases until our garage has been cleaned out. I decided to think about it and went up to the register to return the scanner. While I was there, they gave me a 15% off coupon, for any purchase, including clearance. Now the high chair was down to $85.00, a really good deal in my book.

I still was hemming and hawing, until my girlfriend plucked the coupon out of my hand and told me that she wanted to buy the high chair for me as my baby gift. I was floored by her generousity and actually felt a bit guilty. I was in no way expecting her to buy it for me and was not hinting for her to do so, but she said that she had been planning on spending more than that for a gift anyway, and wanted to buy me something significant that I will always remember came from her. Mission accomplished. As a bonus, she is keeping the highchair in her garage until our shower in July, so I don't even have to kick it around until then. I was thrilled to pieces.

So, from the depths of despair, to the heights of happiness, all in a 24-hour period. No wonder my husband is avoiding me!

Tummy Talk

Now that I can really feel this little guy moving, I enjoy talking to my belly more than ever. I have been talking to him for a long time now, but I am starting to feel less silly about it. I read a book to the baby every night before bed, I rub my stomach with cocoa butter lotion, and tell the baby about life outside and how much fun we are going to have. I really love it.

My husband, on the other hand, is not into the belly.

And it hurts my feelings.

A lot.

While most people from my parents, to friends, even to my boss, are really into the belly. They will pat it, rub it, and talk to it. My husband really seems to only interact with the belly when I "force" it, either by walking up to him and sticking my blossoming stomach into his face, or taking his hand and firmly placing it on my abdomen. He will grudingly say, "Hello, Baby." or leave his hand for a few seconds, before pulling it quickly away. The other night, he not-so-politely told me that I needing to stop "forcing" it and that he will do it when he is comfortable. Which seems to be never.

I have tried not to let this bother me, but it does, on several levels. One, I feel it is a rejection of the baby. Two, I feel it is a rejection of me and my changing form. I know, I know. Rampant, raging pregnant hormones do not a logical woman make. I was wondering for you ladies out there (and any gentleman that might stumble across this site): Are your husbands into the belly? Any suggestions for how to get him more involved?

The Doctor Is In

Today we had our fifth month appointment. For the first time that I can ever recall when it comes to OB appointments, I was not nervous going in. I think that the combination of a great anatomy scan plus daily movement makes me feel pretty confident. Not that I don't think that bad things could still happen, I know that they can, but I just really am trying to enjoy this pregnancy and try not to worry.

Everything is looking good. I am measuring a week ahead, but the doctor that is considered normal and not a reason for concern. It did take awhile to get the heartbeat on doppler, but only because the baby was kicking and moving so much that he couldn't get a good read. After a few minutes, however, he got a great heartbeat of 126 BPM, which was declared perfect.

My current weight gain is at 11 pounds, though I am feeling as if it certainly must be more than that! This weekend, I noticed that my thighs are rubbing together. I don't have the skinniest legs to begin with, but I've got a lot of friction down there that I haven't felt before. I also notice that my arms have a layer of upholstery that wasn't there before. But as long as my doctor says that it's normal, I am going to try and be okay and even happy with the new me!

Finally Friday!

What a week! My work meeting was absolutely exhausting, made far worse by the fact that my roommate has insomnia and was up before 4 AM both mornings. I have been complaining about how often I am on my feet for work, being in a sales position and not working in an office. After sitting for 12 hours straight, I realize that is far more challenging. My lower back was killing me by the end and my ankles were swollen for the first time.

Despite the discomfort, I was kept very much entertained during even the most boring parts of the meeting. I kept picturing our sweet Little Man and what having him in my arms will be like. His constant movement and even some pretty good kicks also had me suppressing a smile.

My districtmates surprised me with an early baby gift - lots of clothes from this store. I was not expecting the gift and it was really touching. I almost teared up, until I read the card, which one of my coworkers had signed "Heya, Fatty!"

Speaking of which, everyone had such fun telling me how HUGE I am and how HUGE I am going to be! I thought I would post the 20-week Belly Shots so that you can see for yourself.

Have a wonderful weekend!