Tremors

This week I am in my 28th week of pregnancy. GAH how time has flown. My body is making the transition from the second to third trimester, so I guess you could say I’m entering the home stretch. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m ecstatic and TERRIFIED at the same time. Good God, I’m going to have a BABY. Fine time to freak out, right? But I’m not really freaked out, per say. Just anxious.

The last few weeks have been fun. Well, fun for me. Non-preggos would surely look at me in shock when they see that my idea of FUN is reclining on the couch or in my hammock in a big tshirt and fat pants with my hands plastered to my belly. Giggling. Before I got pregnant I’d look at anyone doing that with a raised eyebrow, contemplating calling the loony bin to make that crazy lady a reservation. But now I get it – I understand the fuss and obsession with hands-on-belly. Because Luke has been on the move! I can feel him spinning around, flipping upside down, stretching, and occasionally getting the hiccups. It never gets old. Even better, he’s strong enough now that you can actually see my belly move in response to his movements. Usually it’s just little flicks – in response to the more frequent kicks and jabs. It looks like my stomach twitches – just quick enough to make you second guess whether or not you actually saw my belly move. HOWEVER – there is absolutely no doubt when he is flipping over. Have you ever seen the movie Tremors? Remember the way the ground mounded up as the worm-creature moved under the surface? THAT’S about as accurately as I can describe what my belly looks like when he’s flipping. Some days it’s so bizarre that I feel like I should take my belly-show on the road and join the circus. Seriously – can your stomach do that?

Aside from my sci-fi belly movements, I think I may be getting into the nesting phase. I’ve always been an overly organized person. I feel like my house is a wreck if there is mail scattered across my kitchen counter or more than a dish or 2 in my sink. Right now our office has a few random boxes and other odds and ends sitting in a corner because we haven’t figured out where to put it all in the new house. And it literally pains me to walk by that room. It drives me nuts. But lately, my obsession with all things organized has gone into overdrive. Kevin was gone on a job this past weekend, and I saw that as the perfect opportunity to get our house in top shape. I hung pictures. I dusted. I moved stuff that we’d bought for the nursery into the nursery (instead of the random places that we’d just set the bags down whenever we got home with it). I put a lot of random “homeless” items into a hidden closet so that it was at least out of my sight (which totally reminded me of Monica in an episode of Friends). I ordered the nursery furniture that Kevin and I had picked out, which ultimately led to me sitting in the middle of the nursery floor imagining different ways to situate the furniture once it got there. For whatever reason, that led to me hanging up baby clothes that Kevin’s mom bought and mailed to us. Hanging up the new clothes led to me rearranging the way everything else we’d already bought for him was hanging. I sorted the clothes out by age/size. And then mixed it all back up because I felt like my OCD was getting the best of me. And then fought the urge not to sort it all back out. If you walked in the nursery right now, it’d look like an empty room. Just some tiny outfits hanging in the closet, a pile of shopping bags lined up against the wall, a bedding set still in its packaging, and a gallon of paint waiting to be opened. After this weekend, hopefully the walls will be painted and the furniture will be delivered. Then I can shift my obsession to the details and begin wrapping my brain around the craziness that is creating a baby registry.

Swollen Feet with Mickey and Friends

I’ve gotten lazy about updating the blog. Not really so much lazy – just sidetracked. My first excuse is that work kicked into high gear. I’ve been non-stop from 7-4 every day. Most days I felt like I hadn’t taken a single breath until I made myself get up from my desk for lunch. And by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit at a computer for a single moment even to write a quick post. Aside from work, I was helping my family plan for something big. Something HUGE. We were taking a week-long trip to Disney World. A total of 7 people – my parents, Kevin and I, my sister, her hubby, and baby Bradly – were packing our bags, boarding a plane, and heading to the most magical place on Earth. Because, really, who doesn’t turn into a big 5 year old the moment you walk through the gates at Disney?

Let me just say that I love Disney. I’m usually not a big fan of any place where hundreds of people – much less hundreds of KIDS - are running around. I can barely do Wal-Mart without cursing, and the mall is my worst nightmare. But somehow Disney is different. People are happy. There’s a giant castle with a parade and fireworks every single day. And characters from my favorite childhood movies are walking around giving out hugs and taking pictures. Okay, okay, I know. The characters aren’t real, you say. But I challenge you to keep your cool when you are standing face to face with the uber-gorgeous Minnie Mouse.

We had a great time. Each day was spent at a different park. We ate. We shopped. My mom, Bradly, and I people-watched while my sister and the guys rode all of the thrill rides. FYI while Disney is kid focused, there are a few rides that are geared more towards the adults. However, that usually translated as not preggo-friendly and definitely not 13-month-old friendly. So we had to sit out for some things. Unfortunately for me, I LOVE the thrill rides at Disney. My absolute favorite ride in all of Disney is the Aerosmith Roller Coaster. And I couldn’t ride it this time. So I sat outside and pouted like any grown 25 year old pregnant woman would do. As I mentioned before, there are Disney characters wandering the parks to meet and greet. Usually, they were surrounded by kids. But that didn’t stop Kevin and me from jumping right in line with the rest of them to take pictures. We met Mickey and Minnie, Donald, Goofy, Pluto, Chip and Dale, Stitch (one of my favorites!!), Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger, and Buzz Lightyear (who even gave a salute to baby Luke as we walked up). Strangely, we noticed that there weren’t nearly as many characters walking around this year as there had been in previous years that we’ve gone. Was it because we weren’t there during the peak season? Makes sense, right? But no that wasn’t it. We learned that even Disney was being affected by the crappy economy. Some of Disney’s characters were given their “take a hike” notice due to hard times. How sad is that?! Somewhere poor Snow White and her Dwarves are flipping burgers. How’d you like to see THAT next time you drive through Whataburger?

One solid week of 6 adults and 1 baby trying to agree on exactly what to do and when to do it got a little trying at times. Being the happiest place on Earth, we all tried our best to grit our teeth and bear it when it got tense. Especially when the baby got fussy or preggo got swollen and/or hormonal (i.e. – moody. Remember my lost filter?). Usually, we all went our separate ways after dinner and we had one day that was rainy which all of the “couples” used to do whatever else they wanted. Kevin and I opted for Downtown Disney to do some shopping and get some alone time in. And for our last night at Disney, Kevin and I had a date night. We had dinner at a restaurant in the Magic Kingdom, did some last minute shopping, and then watched the fireworks while huddled up and drinking hot chocolate.*side note: I failed to mention that the one week we spent at Disney was apparently the coldest week of the year for Orlando – they had record lows, and it froze 3 nights while we were there. I’d rather it be in the low 50s all week than be in the 90s with 100% humidity, though, I suppose!

We had a great time – I can’t wait to take Luke back when he’s old enough to enjoy it (and when he’s big enough to ride everything – mama’s not sitting out on rides again!). I was worried that I wouldn’t enjoy it as much because I was pregnant. But honestly, being pregnant gave me a much different perspective. While waiting for the others to get off the big-boy rides, I went in shops that I otherwise wouldn’t have gone in. I did more people watching and paid more attention to parents interacting with their kids (begin collective eye-roll now). Things that I never would have paid attention to before. And I even got a free souvenir that serves as a constant reminder of my family’s trek all over Disney – the most swollen feet that I’ve EVER had. My feet look like two freshly baked loaves of bread, and my toes look like Vienna Sausages. I’m still trying to figure out how to get the swelling down to at least what it was pre-Disney. …Any suggestions?...

Preggo Nursery Rhyme

Oh where, oh where have my ankles gone?

Oh where, oh where could they be?

One day they were there,

And the next day they’re gone.

Oh where, oh where could they be?

Dear Bladder,

…you are not my friend today. In fact, you have not been my friend for some time now. I have a few bones to pick with you…

You are the reason I am tired today. You are the reason I am tired most days. Perhaps you didn’t get the memo. Pregnant Chandra needs sleep. These are her last few glorious months with the possibility of uninterrupted sleep. That does not seem to be coinciding with your current schedule. Every single night, you feel it necessary to wake me up at 3:50am on the dot to run to the bathroom (and more often than not, also around 11pm and 1am). My body jolts awake, feeling as if Niagara Falls is about to flow from my body. I peel myself from under the covers and out of bed to shimmy to the toilet. Because this happens like clockwork each and every night, I have learned to make this maneuver with my eyes closed (peeking only briefly once I reach the toilet to ensure some snake or other sewer critter isn’t swimming in there, patiently waiting for me to have a seat). However even with the closed-eye approach, once I have left the comfort and warmth of my bed my mind begins to crank and my body begins to wake up. There is no going back to the deep slumber that I enjoyed before you so suddenly woke me AT 3:50AM. If possible, do you think we could try to push this back to somewhere around 6am when my alarm goes off? And maybe even 8-ish on the weekends? Think about it and get back to me.

Not only do you interrupt my sleep, but you have also altered my daily activities. No sip of water, not even a single reposition in my desk chair, goes without that familiar feeling – Niagara Falls knocking at the door, waiting to escape. Fearing a possible accident at work, I stop what I’m doing and shimmy down the hall to the ladies room. Sometimes I feel like I need to speed my shimmy to a quick jog (something that would surely provide entertainment for all that I pass along the way) because of your urgency. I pick a stall and get ready to release the rapids when… drip. Drip. Drip. That’s it?! You’ve got to be kidding me! I sit for a moment, making absolutely SURE that there’s nothing else coming before I trek back to my desk. And there’s nothing. Defeated, I shuffle back to my desk to get back to work. Lo and behold, not 10 minutes later, with a sip of water or reposition in my chair – there it is! “The Falls” are banging on the door again. Aha! I knew I wasn’t crazy the first time – I really DO have to go. I shimmy back down the hall to the bathroom, have a seat, and… drip. Drip. Drip. Foiled again. You win, bladder. Just as you won yesterday. And the day before that.

Please consider this letter my waving of the white flag. I give up – I surrender. Please let me know when you’re ready to show some mercy and call a truce.

Many thanks.

Preggo Rant

I love being pregnant. I really, truly do. I love that God has deemed me worthy of becoming a mother and has given me the opportunity to have this baby. I love that my body is going through changes that only other mothers know and understand. I feel like every mom in the world is a member of this exclusive society, and the initiation is pregnancy and childbirth. I can’t wait to complete my initiation and become a lifetime member.

I am in my second half of pregnancy. My belly has rounded out, going from the “has she gained weight?” phase to the “she’s having a baby!” phase. Random people are stopping me and asking me when I’m due. It’s nice. And it’s also hilarious to watch people want to retract their questions as soon as they ask, fearing that I’m not really pregnant and just a little too round in the tummy area. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t feel at all like I’m “due” any special awards or recognition for being pregnant (although the “expectant mothers” parking spaces at some stores are WONDERFUL and should be placed at ALL grocery stores and Targets). But the “Oh my god – congratulations!” and “He’s going to be so beautiful!” comments have really become sunshine points of my days. They are nice buffers between the daily bouts of heartburn, gas, back aches, and swollen feet and toes.

HOWEVER

I am realizing that with the “Congratulations” comments comes the “Let me tell you” conversations. Why, oh why, oh WHY do people feel that they have the right to tell me how to “be” pregnant? Even more so, why do people feel they have the right to tell me how to raise my unborn child? Every. Single. Day. Some self-appointed “parenting guru” feels it necessary to tell me what I should be doing, how I should be doing it, or what to expect in the next few months/during childbirth/for the extent of my child-rearing years. What gets me are the different types of people that I get it from, particularly men and other parents:
Men – First let me say that seeing a man holding a baby, carrying a child on his shoulders, even just holding their child’s hand – anything to do with a man being affectionate with a child (in a non-Dateline “To Catch a Predator”-type of way) absolutely melts my heart. I think dads can be a little overlooked during the pregnancy phase, which is unfortunate as they are usually the target of the many mood swings and the retriever of late-night food cravings. However, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a man has absolutely no right to tell a woman how she should be feeling during pregnancy. Except maybe the “pregnant man” that used to be a woman who got pregnant (I can’t believe I actually just typed that… only in today’s world). Until you have carried a human being in your body, please do not tell me how or what to feel. If you know some amazing remedy to my current ailments, by all means please tell me. If you have man’s-perspective advice on what I can do or say for/to my hubby as an extreme token of appreciation, by all means please tell me. But, once again, do not tell me how or what I should be feeling physically. *My hubby gets a free pass on this for many reasons. #1 – he was there when baby Luke was created. #2 – he puts up with my many pregnant personalities, often changing without notice. #3 – he reads about pregnancy ailments and milestones and then tells me when they’re probably coming soon (i.e. “Those jalapenos are probably going to start giving you heartburn soon.” Or “You’ve been on your feet too long – they’re probably going to be pretty swollen tonight.” – Both of which he have told me) I think it is absolutely the sweetest thing that he is reading/remembering these things and trying to coach me through them in my moments of hard-headedness.
Other Mothers/Parents – There is nothing more that I can say other than you should know better. Let me throw out a little disclaimer here… I respect mothers and parents in general. I bow down to everything that you do and everything that you have been through. But please don’t lecture me on how much things are going to change when the baby comes. Really, do you think that I don’t know that already? You were given the chance to learn lessons on your own. Please please PLEASE let Kevin and I have the same experience. I’ve also had some mothers tell me “what I’m in for” for the remainder of my pregnancy and their hell-acious labor stories. If all goes according to plan, I will be pregnant for another 4 months. I know that I will get bigger. I know that I will get more and more uncomfortable. I know that certain bodily functions will get worse and new ones may appear. And sweet Lord, I KNOW that labor will be the most painful experience of my life. For my sanity and your safety, please remember what it was like when you were pregnant and others tried to tell you “what you’re in for”. Remember the ping of fury that shot through your body as soon as others tried to tell you. Remember that all you wanted to hear was “You look great. You’ll be fine. And if you need to vent, I’ve been through it and I’m here for you.” Those words are golden to a woman with child.

Let me catch myself before you start to think that I’m some angry head-case that walks around snapping at anyone who tries to speak to me. I appreciate the many mothers, fathers, and friends in my life who have been through this. And I appreciate all of the words of encouragement, support, and advice (I know, that completely contradicts this entire post) that I have received up to this point. The advice has been amazing – what creams to use on my belly for the itching and oh-so-lovely stretchmarks, ideas on nursery room colors, what medicines I can/can not take, and ways to deal with those who offer too much advice are just a few. But these bits of knowledge were received from those near and dear to me, and usually in conversations where I’m asking “What do I do??”

A lesson to those with preggo’s in your life…
Be supportive. Tell her she looks great, and really mean it. Don’t expect her to be capable of everything she was capable of before baby (spending hours walking the mall or grocery store, staying up late to hang out, etc). Expect mood swings and out-of-the-blue tears. And most importantly – when you start to think “Oh my god, I can’t TAKE her anymore! She’s become a monster!”, know that your old friend/sister/daughter/wife is in there somewhere. She’s just going through a lot and is just as confused and frustrated as you are (if not more). Do your best to love her as much as you did before hormones took over her every breathing moment.

Wordless Wednesday

Baby Friends

My two nieces, one month apart in age, met for the first time last weekend. To describe their "play date" in one word: adorable.

Baby, Is That You?

Feeling a baby moving around in your belly… it’s such a strange feeling. Strange and completely amazing at the same time. I love it. I absolutely, whole heartedly love it. I’ve been feeling baby move around for over a month now. At first it started almost like a little tickle from the inside. Many moms call the feeling “flutters”. You know the feeling when you’re on a roller coaster or drive over the top of a hill too fast and your stomach flips? That’s how I’d describe what I felt for a few weeks. Only it wasn’t in my stomach, it was in the area below my belly button. The movements became a daily occurrence, and baby began to move around more in response to certain things. For example, he seems to love it when I drink orange juice. I try to have at least a glass every morning to give me and baby an instant shot of our fruit servings for the day. And it always gets him going. It feels like he’s dancing in there. Another drink he seems to like is water, plainly enough. I can drink a Coke and feel nothing, and then drink a few sips of water and he starts moving. And the food he seems to react to the most is salad. But not just any salad – it has to be a salad from my favorite pizza place. It gets him going every time. A salad from anywhere else doesn’t quite have the same effect.

Back on topic… about a week ago, the movements started getting much stronger. They felt more coordinated, if that makes sense. I told Kevin that it felt like any day, he should be able to start feeling the baby move too. I felt so bad that he hadn’t felt the baby move yet. Here I was, feeling Bun moving every single day and Kevin just had to sit and watch. Actually, he had to sit and listen. I’d always say “Bun’s on the move!” or “That really got him going”, not realizing that it was probably breaking Kevin’s heart that he couldn’t share in the feeling. I would get so excited that he was moving around in there that I’d just blurt it out. Don’t get me wrong – Kevin was excited too, but he wanted to be able to feel what I was talking about. So rewind to a week ago… I started feeling much stronger movements. It was like baby was working on his jab. Whatever it was, it was getting much more powerful than the little “flutters” from the weeks before. So I started walking around with my hands glued to my stomach. I wanted to feel it from the outside, and I wanted to be sure that’s what it really was before I got Kevin’s hopes up.

It happened Friday night. After 3 days of constant hands-on-belly, I was laying in bed watching tv (yes I know, my Friday nights are too exciting for most to handle…). My hands were on my belly by chance (my belly’s getting to the size where it’s hard to put my hands anywhere BUT the belly when I’m laying down..). And there was a little jab on the lower right side of my gut. Instinctively, I shrieked. Then there were 2 more little jabs in the exact same place. I shrieked again. I had been waiting on this moment for months, and there I sat shrieking at my stomach like a maniac once it finally happened. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting, but then again, how do you really know what to expect of something kicking from inside of you? Ponder that for a second…

I yelled for Kevin to “Get in the bedroom RIGHT NOW” – something that probably gave him the impression that I suddenly felt the need for nookie because he was there in a flash, kicking his shoes off as he came through the door. Much to his disappointment, there I sat in bed, fully clothed, holding my side, jaw dropped, and tears in my eyes (sidenote: My reaction to just about ANYTHING lately is to tear up). “I felt him – give me your hand.” We must’ve sat there for 10 minutes with both of our hands covering every square inch of my belly, waiting for any kind of movement. And there was nothing. Kevin was disappointed. And I felt awful.

…Fast forward a couple of hours…

We’re both in bed watching tv. I could feel baby moving on the inside again, so I nonchalantly moved Kevin’s hand from holding my hand to resting on my belly just over the spot where I could feel baby moving around. After a few minutes, I felt a really big thump. I jerked my head towards Kevin to see if he felt it. There he sat, smiling, looking at my stomach from the corner of his eye. “Was that him?” All I could do was smile and tear up.