Lost: Filter

Since I don't have much to update since my 10-week post, I thought I'd just share a fun occurance that's been going on. First, though - I had my 2nd OB appointment Monday! Nothing extremely exciting like an ultrasound, unfortunately. I won't get another ultrasound (i.e. new picture of Bun to share) until week 20 when we should find out whether it's a boy or girl - exciting!!! That should be right around Christmas, so ho ho ho to me! My appointment was for some bloodwork and my annual "fun lady exam" as I like to call it. Which all of us ladies know is really no fun at all. But with the bad comes the good, and my good came in the form of a little Doppler machine that Dr. Wonderful pulled out of her bag of tricks. She wanted to get an update on Bun, and since we weren't doing an ultrasound she used this Doppler machine to find the baby's heartbeat! It took a while to find - I think even she got a little nervous because she kept saying "You're not leaving this room until we find your baby's little heart". And just when I was on the brink of tears because she couldn't find any heartbeat other than mine, there it was! No words can describe the feeling I got when I heard that little flutter of beats. It melted my heart and turned me into someone that "Chandra from 3 years ago" would've totally made fun of. I've become a softie, and this little person that I haven't even met yet has already got me wrapped around its tiny fingers.

Now, on to something a little more entertaining...

I think I've lost my filter. What filter, you ask? The filter that makes me civilized. The filter that keeps my manners in check. The filter that controls my actions and words. And I think I've lost it. Honestly, I didn't know it was gone until Kevin and I were walking through the grocery store one day and Kevin had to scold me. Yes, a true-blue, mom-style, just-short-of-a-spanking kind of scold. I think it was when I was pushing the buggy along, and a man made the mistake of crossing right in front of me. I'm pretty sure I threw my hands up in the air and said something about his blatant disregard to grocery store traffic etiquette. And once I got a little closer to him, I'm also pretty sure I made a comment about how he should've been on the soap aisle instead of the produce section because his B.O. was "stanky". Kevin snapped his head around to me, bug-eyed, and mouthed "STOP IT!" My little quips weren't exactly quiet - the man definitely heard me. Isn't that awful? It doesn't end there. I also make ugly faces at little kids that are annoying me. Or little kids that just happen to be looking at me. I "comment" a little too loud when teenage girls - hell, even grown ass women - are wearing certain items of clothing that are entirely too tight or short. I get a lot of dirty looks, but what are you going to do? You can't hit me - I'm pregnant! Learn how to dress, you disgrace to society, and there wouldn't be a problem in the first place. My non-filter doesn't just end with strangers. I've gone on and on in restaurants about whether what I ordered was absolutely amazing or whether it was not so great. Kevin's had to leave some hefty tips to counteract the fact that I've announced to anyone in earshot that the service was the worst ever. I also tell Kevin everything I feel going on in my body - even if it's just gas (sorry - I warned yall I wasn't holding anything back. Don't act like you don't get the gas...). I've woken him up at 2am just to tell him that I was uncomfortable. If that man is still standing beside me at the end of this, I swear I'll be a lucky woman.

In conclusion, if I offend you in any way or make ugly faces at your child I apologize. Just remind me to try to find my filter. I promise I'll do all I can to be on my best behavior.

Can you spare a pillow?

Another week down - as of today, I am 10 weeks pregnant! It's hard to believe. I feel like it was just last week that we found out and began telling our families - and I was only about 4 weeks at that time! So ten weeks, wow. Here's the weekly breakdown:

BUN:
Big news for Bun this week - he/she's no longer an embryo. It's graduated to a fetus! What exactly that means, I don't know. I guess it's like going from a baby to a toddler. But the word "fetus" gives me the heebies, so we're just sticking with saying "baby". The baby's still growing like crazy - supposedly it'll reach about an inch and a half this week. Everything I've read compared it to the size of a prune, only without all of the shriveled-ness. Bun's also supposed to lose the "reptile" look completely this week, straightening out and losing the "tail" to look like a baby instead of a lizard (or at least babies that age looked like little lizards to me in online pictures!).

ME:
No big changes for me since the last post. I'm still very anti-meat and very pro-cheese/pasta/potato. I've noticed that I haven't had a sick day in a couple of weeks now (knock on wood). I had some minor queasiness this morning, but it was nothing compared to what I'd been through in earlier weeks. I haven't weighed myself this week, so I couldn't tell you if I've gained anything. My pants still fit (with the exception of me undoing the top button when I sit), so I take that as a sign that I'm doing alright weight-wise. There is something that I didn't touch in my last post that has taken the lead in constant preggo-symptoms. I am EXHAUSTED. All the time. Seriously. I tell everyone that if you snapped your fingers and said "Go to sleep", I would. And I'd jump at the opportunity to prove it. Please - give me an excuse to take a nap. Just 20 minutes. Make it 45. I'm begging you. It isn't uncommon for me to fall asleep in the car (as a passenger of course, silly!), even if it's just a short drive to/from my parents' house. Or to the grocery store. Or to a restaurant. I've been tempted many days to close my office door and stretch out on the floor during my lunch hour. Now that the weather's nice, I've actually gone out to my car on my lunch break, rolled the windows down, laid my seat back, and shut my eyes. And it was wonderful. And if you don't think all of these things are just a little over the top, here's the kicker. I now go to bed at 8pm. 8PM!!! I know 7 year olds that go to bed later than that! But I can't help it - I just need to sleep. And it's so wonderful. On weekends, Kevin tries to keep me up a little later, but I've yet to make it past about 10. I know, sad.

I guess the newest and most surprising addition to my baby tale is the appearance of my baby bump. By all standards, it's definitely just in the beginning phases. But when you've had a relatively flat stomach and a narrow waistline for 25 1/2 years, you definitely notice when things change in that department. I'm definitely rounder, and any hint of muscle definition that I'd worked so hard to achieve (although always covered by a nice layer of "cushion" as I liked to call it - ha) has now disappeared. It's just... round. And bloated. Funny thing is, it changes daily. One day I'm all round and poking out, and the next day I'm "flat". And I've noticed that I'm always rounder by the end of the day. I'm sure it's all relative to how much and how often I grazed throughout the day, but I know that there's a little baby floating somewhere in there that's the root of all this change. So bizarre. I'm still not used to it. Luckily, I'm still able to hide it from people who I'm just not ready to tell yet. The change in my belly is 100% obvious to me, but apparently not so much to everyone else. I guess because I know what's going on, and I'm constantly staring at my belly looking for changes. I definitely don't think I'm going to be one of those women who can go 5 months without showing. No such luck for me. But at the same time, I'm so completely awed by my changing belly. I kinda like it! Or maybe I just like the fact that I can eat and eat, watch my belly grow in response, and not feel the least bit guilty about it. hmm. Tough call.

And so continues the saga of first-time pregnancy. Every day I wake up, get dressed, and go to work. If only a pillow and blanket would fit in my purse. And a Chipotle burrito maker. And a full-time massage therapist. ...It's always nice to dream, right?...

I'll have one of everything, please!

Now that the big news is out, my blog seems to have a purpose. While carrying a child inside of me for the next 7 months won't be all that is going on in my life, it will certainly be one of the more important - and certainly entertaining - storylines. So prepare yourself. I don't plan on holding much back.

Today marks my 9th week of pregnancy. However, the baby is really only 7 weeks old. Apparently, someone who failed math in school created the pregnancy timetable. Or a man came up with it. You choose. So nine weeks - holy cow.

I read every week about things that are (or should be) going on with me and the baby. Here's this week's breakdown.

BUN:

Right now it's about the size of a martini olive (oh, how I miss martinis... *tear*) and weighs about the same as a penny. It's got arms and legs with little webbed fingers and toes. It's got most major organs (coming this week: either ovaries or boy-balls!), and its brain is continuously developing. It's already got eyes, ears, and a nose. I'd give anything to be able to see its teensy face (but no ultrasound again until week 16 or 20, I think). Supposedly, the baby is beginning to move around in there. But I still won't be able to feel that for a couple of months - Bun's still way too small for me to feel now.

ME:

Food: If you didn't know I was preggo, you'd never think anything of it. Or at least that's what people are telling me. At first I gained like 7 pounds, but I think it's because I acted like a Hoover in the initial weeks - I ate anything I could put my hands on. I've never in my life felt a hunger like pregnancy hunger. I'm completely full and fine one second, and all of a sudden I become this raving maniac on the prowl for food. Do not get in my way and DEFINITELY do not try to carry a conversation with me. Unless it's about going somewhere to eat. As we're getting into the car to go to said place. Lately, though, I'd like to think that I've learned to manage the hunger a little bit better. I've actually lost a few of the pounds I initially gained because I'm not constantly camped out in our pantry at home. And I'm not having cravings, per se. Not to the point of waking up at 2am wanting a pickle, or making Kevin drive to the ice cream store 10 minutes before it closes for a banana split (like I've heard about another mom whom I absolutely adore). Not saying that will never happen, but I'm just not there yet. I am, however, at the point where there are certain things that I can eat for every single meal, every day. Pizza. Cheese fries from Chilis or Outback. Bean, cheese, and jalepeno tacos/burritos/quesadillas. Chipotle veggie burritos. Pasta. Clearly things that are not the healthiest of choices, but I'm not going to try to fight it. It's all so good!! I've noticed the one food aversion I've developed since getting pregnant is meat, especially beef. I can't eat it! I can eat bacon, shrimp, and I've been able to do a little bit of chicken. But the thought of a burger makes me queasy. Hopefully this won't last forever. On a healthier note, I drink a ton of water every day. I'm allowed a certain amount of caffeine, but I usually don't even get near the max amount. I try to keep it to just 1 Coke or tea a day. And no coffee at all, which is really hurting my mornings.

Sickness: There were about 2 1/2 weeks (unfortunately including 1 week that we were without power due to Hurricane Ike) where I was absolutely miserable with nausea. Like, must-lay-down-now (and forever if possible!), the-room-is-spinning, contents-of-my-stomach-are-sitting-in-my-throat kind of nausea. The worst. Fortunately, I haven't actually actually gotten sick. I despise throwing up. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can go this entire time without actually doing it. Some people have asked me "Wouldn't you rather just throw up so you feel better?" And my answer every time has been a fat "NO". While, yes, I'm sure I'll feel better after I throw up, I know that the nausea will inevitably come back. So no throwing up for me, thanks. Dr. Wonderful (as I'll call her from now on) told me that I can take Dramamine for the nausea (my choices in medicine are now seriously limited), and we'd move to something stronger if necessary over the next month. But Dramamine seems to be doing the trick! I take it in the morning before I leave for work, and I keep one in my purse in case I need it later in the day. Those 2 1/2 weeks of misery seemed to have been the worst of it - I have a few bad days occasionally where I just need to lay down. Or when I have to go to the grocery store. No lie - I can smell the fish counter before I walk through the door (I'm the crazy girl literally running past the meat section plugging her nose and holding her breath - ladies aren't lying about the heightened sense of smell!!). But for the most part, I really only get nauseated now when I start to get hungry. And I've found that Starbucks Blended Lemonade works miracles for me on subsiding the nausea and holding me over until meal times.

Craziness: I now go from laughing to crying in about 2.2 seconds. It's pathetic. It can be a story, a tv show, a commercial, or just a thought in my head that triggers me. Poor Kevin was the target of my mental instability yesterday. He made a crack about a possible Halloween costume (that involved a preggo-style Chandra). It was something that pre-pregnancy, I would've just shot him a dirty look, slapped him in his man-place, or pulled the hair on his legs. Something playful, but also in the "Don't F with me, Crane" department. But Pregnant Chandra reacted completely differently. I sat there for a second, brushing my teeth, letting his comment sink in...overanalyzing. Suddenly tears began welling in my eyes, so I tried to fight them back and leaned further over the sink to try to hide my face from him. But then I lost it completely. My welled-up eyes became water fountains, and I couldn't keep my shoulders from shaking with my sobs. He came out of the closet and caught me, against all of my efforts to crawl down the sink drain and hide away. He was blind-sided. He didn't know what was going on - "are you hurt? are you sick? what's wrong??" All I could do was look at him with a mouthful of toothpaste, red-faced and out of breath from crying and say "That wasn't FUNNY!" He was heartbroken and must've apologized about 20 times in a minute. I must say that I have the most incredible husband, seriously. He has been absolutely amazing and super-supportive of all things preggo-Chandra (except, of course, for comments about Chandra-inspired Halloween costumes). This was his free pass - his one "get out of jail free" card.

So there's the bulk of my experiences as of now. Hopefully week 9 will be a good one! Just for giggles, every time you sip on your morning coffee or order a margarita with dinner, please enjoy it just a little more and know that I'm living vicariously through you ;)

Honey, can you come here?....HONEY!!!!....

Kevin: What’s wrong? What does it say?
Me: *look of sheer terror, shock, and joy mixed together* There are two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

I fell to the bathroom floor in a dramatic huff, laying on my back looking at this white stick with two pink lines. Kevin just stood in the doorway to our bathroom staring at me wide-eyed with the biggest, most childish grin on his face that I’ve ever seen. It reminded me a lot of the day he proposed to me. It was one of those raw, naïve, and completely unadulterated smiles that he gets when he doesn’t even realize it. When he’s truly happy. I, on the other hand, was lying on the floor staring at this stick with what I can only imagine was a look of confusion and doubt. Am I pregnant?? No! I can’t be! Silly little white stick, you’re wrong! Something must’ve happened to this little bugger during manufacturing. It’s a false positive. It has to be. So I’m a few days late – it’s probably because of all the traveling and wacko dieting I’ve been doing these past few months.

Good thing I bought a 2-pack.

For the second test, Kevin sat there and stared at me. He was still beaming. I was busy wondering if there was a wrong way that you could pee on a stick. For the next three minutes, I sat in his lap hugging him. He knows how to make my worries disappear, even if just for three minutes. We jumped up to look at the new white stick as soon as the clock ticked past the 3rd minute. And once again, TWO FREAKIN PINK LINES! I still didn’t know what to feel – I needed more confirmation before I committed to any kind of emotion. I grabbed my purse and headed to Target to buy more tests. To make things even more interesting, this was the morning of September 12th – the Friday that Ike hit Texas. So Houston was in a mad craze. I was already worried enough about having enough water, batteries, fans and snacks to hold us over during the aftermath and inevitable power loss. And now I’m having to fight the crazies in Target just to get another pregnancy test?! I felt like I was in the middle of some bad joke. Like at any moment, Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out and tell me that I’d been Punk’d. Too bad I’m not a celebrity. This was totally real. Real people don’t get Punk’d.

I sat staring at the different kinds of pregnancy tests. I saw the 2-pack that I had used earlier that morning. Psh – stupid pink lines. I need to write that company a letter to let them know their sticks are faulty. I needed something more than just pink lines for a confirmation of this magnitude. I needed a test that would scream at me “Girl, you’re pregnant!” Unfortunately, there are no tests with audible results. So I settled for the kind that specifically said “Pregnant” or “Not pregnant”. It can’t get much clearer than that, can it? And best of all, there were no silly pink lines to interpret.

I got home, did my thing, and set the stick down for its three minute deliberation. I washed my hands and quickly stole a peak at the little results window, not really knowing what I even wanted it to say. It hadn’t even been a minute anyway – it’s probably still blank. But I had to look. Big and bold, there it was – "Pregnant". What?! This stick didn’t even need three whole minutes to tell me the big news. I grabbed the stick to show Kevin (who was outside testing the generator – he didn’t stare at me for this third test. He didn’t need that extra confirmation – he was completely satisfied with the pink lines). On my way out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There was a smile stretched from one side of my face to the other, and I didn’t even realize it was there. And that smile was all the confirmation in the world that I needed. No pink lines or screaming pregnancy tests could confirm more than what my smile told me.

We’re having a baby.

For about 2 ½ weeks, we tried to keep the news only to ourselves and immediate family. We both agreed that we wanted to go to the doctor to make sure the tests were right and everything looked normal before we announced it to everyone. Monday we met with my doctor, and everything was fine and healthy. My doctor is amazing, too. She answered my ridiculous questions, and she told us that the baby and I were perfect. Seriously, who can’t love a woman who tells you you’re perfect 6 or 7 times in a few minutes??

Since right now it’s just a little blob hanging out in my uterus (and we won’t know whether it’s a boy or girl until around week 20 – I’m week 7) we’ve decided to lovingly call the little thing “Bun”. Yes, as in “bun in the oven”.

Here’s Bun’s first photo: