State of Denial

As excited as we are to be parents-to-be, could we also be in denial about this impending, life-altering paradigm shift that's about to take place in our lives? Jared's obsession with which roof rack he's going to buy hasn't waned, and he monitors vacation deals as often as I check Facebook (in other words, a lot).

But I could have the worst of it. I lay out the evidence for you to be the judge:

1. I still hang on every word of "Say Yes to the Dress" all the while experiencing temporary amnesia as I fantasize about MY dream dress.
2. I pay far too much attention to designer jean sample sale flyers (I'm only 9 weeks along, and like I could even get my big toe into a pair. Of course it's downhill from here).
3. I have serious discussions with Jared about how all we'll need to do is toss a crib in the office and we'll be "good to go."
4. I take my nurse's sugar warnings as mere suggestions and go ahead and get after the OJ in the morning, and at least one dessert a day (and I've got the Cool Whip and Chunky Monkey in the freezer to prove it).
5. My response to ANY question that involves planning (child care, preschool, where we're going to live, maternity leave) is "We're just taking it one day at a time!" (Insert clueless grin).

But in my defense, for every occurrence of denial, I make up for it with some good honest "trying to be good at this" -- really!

1. I have a stack of SIX pregnancy books next to my bed (and I've even read some of them!)
2. I drank milk for the first time since third grade, topped only by the V8 I chocked down last week.
3. I bought a maternity "belly band" today at the outlets (which surely deserves a blog post of its own)
4. I take FIVE prenatal pills a day, and even have a neato pill minder with AM and PM compartments.
5. I created this blog! That counts for something, right?

From what I've read, it's quite normal to have "ambivalent" feelings -- overwhelming joy and excitement coupled with fears, doubt and even regrets (we never did get to use our Passports.) Perhaps this is why God gives us 9+ months to get used to the idea.

Big Blueberry

I'd like to take a brief detour from my all too common sarcasm to say "praise God!" Our Lord doesn't promise us that everything will go our way in life (in fact - quite the opposite) but I do believe that ALL good things come from Him and so an earnest AMEN is in order for my amazing follow-up doctor's appointment.

Baby on the way is "growing up a storm" and is on-track for a healthy pregnancy. Heck, we even bumped up the due date a notch, going from Aug. 21 to Aug. 20! (P.S. -- Major props to me for ovulating late, craftily skirting what would otherwise have been a due date of Aug. 15. You're crazy if you think I'm going to be blowing up balloons and renting Bounce Houses on my wedding anniversary!) 

Now for a little teaching moment. My advice to anyone newly pregnant and equally clueless as me when it comes to all this pregnancy business, is to go in to these appointments with some questions in your back pocket, if for nothing else but to fill the air with comfortable chatter while doc's going about her business measuring your teeny tiny growing baby. Reason being, you're in stirrups, which makes the experience seem agonizingly, painfully LONG. So of course, you talk and talk and TALK. Like me!

I felt compelled to relay to my extremely professional and educated MD that my husband and I (OK, just I) had made a bit of a hobby out of reading about the stages each week and found it incredibly cute that the baby's size is compared to a blueberry at week 7. At week 8, when we should have been delighted to move on to the obviously more mature "raspberry" phase, we were already attached to our "little blueberry," as we'd become accustomed to referring to the baby, and insisted on calling the baby our "big blueberry" instead. My doc - who is LOVELY - took it all in stride and said we could continue calling our baby a blueberry, technically incorrect as it was. (See? Lovely!) But really? With a little thought and preparation, surely I could have come up with a better way to fill the awkward silence. I mean, I'm sure that appointment cost about $50 a minute, so technically, UnitedHealth Care dropped a Benjamin Franklin for me to gush about my fetus' nickname.

Now how's this for a curve ball. Fast forward to a whopping NINE weeks (as of last Saturday) and now, according to the experts, that's about the size of a large grape. Maybe it's just California's screwed up fruit hybrids and fancy plant food, but aren't raspberries and grapes kind of the same size? Regardless, neither make for a respectable nickname ... so if you hear us talking about Blueberry like it's part of the family already, you'll know we haven't completely lost our minds and are just excited to have a healthy, growing baby on the way!

Size Matters, Apparently

I had my first doctor's appointment this week, and suffice to say, it FREAKED me out.

Now of course it wasn't completely devoid of coolness. I got the "yep you're pregnant" stamp of approval from doc, and even saw the baby's heartbeat (will spare you the details on the magical sonogram technology that led to getting that miraculous image on the screen - yowsah).

The bummer is that all of those much-anticipated moments were compromised by the words "I'll have to see you again next week to make sure this is a healthy pregnancy." Needless to say, my head was spinning most the rest of the appointment and I'm sure I only heard half of what was thrown my way (the approximately NINE vials of blood they also took that day didn't exactly help.)

The culprit of my doctor's concern? I should be 8 weeks pregnant based on the dates, but based on the size of the baby, I'm only 7 weeks. Odds are, I ovulated late, which - to anyone that knows me - shouldn't be a shocker. I'm kinda sorta late to everything. So fingers crossed and many prayers that when I go back next week, I'll be a healthy 8 weeks, proving everything's progressing fine, if not a little tardy, and then I can read my "Pregnancy & Newborn" magazine at the gym with confidence, not to mention start to share this little secret with more loved ones. - Dawn

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets

With so many convenient and immediate ways to share information, the art of keeping secrets is now one of the past. When not even what I had for lunch ceases to make Facebook headlines, how am I supposed to keep this baby a secret? Particularly since I'm a "wear your heart on your sleeve" sharing type?

It's been difficult keeping the news to ourselves (for the most part), but there will be plenty of time for official announcements in the weeks and months ahead.

But of course, we haven't completely kept it under wraps. Our logic - though it wasn't followed consistently - was that we'd tell you if we saw you in-person over the holidays (however that train of thought didn't kick-in until about mid-way through the trip, so a couple very special people were left out!)

But the more we announced it, the more I personally didn't feel ready to. I think I'm still coming to terms with the news myself. Plus, I've learned that before proudly announcing the news, and basking in the glow of "congrats" and "good jobs!" (that's my favorite) there are a few things you MUST be armed with:

1). A due date (because it's the first question you get asked and people totally don't think you're prego unless you have one. Instead of high-fives, you get non-committal nods and a smile that says "are you sure"????).

2). A thumbs up from the doctor that everything's OK (this is more for the mom-to-be, helping to nix the nervous awkwardness out of the "ta-da!" moment.)

3.) General plan of attack (beyond the due date, I've already been asked the following: how long are you taking off for maternity leave?; have you thought about day care?; are you working right up till your due date?; have you thought about moving?; where was the baby conceived (um what?!); what does your insurance pay for?; among other questions.

So for now, I have to be content sharing with this blog no one reads yet, and the few family members and friends that know, all the while stalking my Facebook page to ensure no one's slipped and accidentally spilled the beans!

In signing off, I challenge everyone to "under share" for once, and keep a good secret -- just for fun. - Dawn.

Upgrade!

I think I may have just experienced my first mother's guilt-induced upgrade at EZ Lube.

My conversation that typically goes something like this .... :

• EZ Lube: Mam, here's the list of all the things we suggest you take care of today. Change oil, replace filter, rotate tires, clean engine oil, and change power steering oil.
• Me: Just the oil change, thanks.
• EZ Lube: Mam, the performance of your car depends on these things being in top working order and there are risks involved for neglecting them.
• Me: Yah, I'll talk to my husband about that, just the oil change, thanks.
• EZ Lube: Sign here that we're not liable, thanks.
• Me: Sure, no problem! There you go!

Instead went kind of like this ... :

• EZ Lube: Mam, there's a bunch of stuff we recommend you take care of today.
• Me, interested: Really, ok. Like what?
• EZ Lube: Blah blah blah (is pretty much what I heard)
• Me: Wow, is it unsafe if I don't go ahead?
• EZ Lube: It could be.
• Me: Hmm....(Thoughts running wild -- You're on the road 60 miles a day! You could get a blow out! Think of the baby! Don't be a bad mom! Do the right thing!)
• Me: Yes, ok, whatever you say.
• EZ Lube: That will be $100.
• Me: Wow, OK, but money well-spent!

That was definitely my most expensive oil change to date, but hey, safety first! I'm sure this is only the beginning of many guilt-induced, rationalized expenditures to come in the next 7.5 months!

Definition of Insanity

The actual definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly, and expecting different results. Ordinarily, I'd recommend abstaining. However, in the case of pregnancy tests, you really should go through a box, or two.

Why? For one, you never know. It COULD be wrong! Number 2, the timing on those things are crazy and the odds are you're taking it too early for all the special hormones in your body to create that coveted plus sign, and number 3, after tons of minus signs, it's soooooooooooooooooooooooooo fun to see a PLUS sign!

And how do I know you ask? Because I was privy to that fun little surprise last week! So it's official - although no one will see this blog because it's far too early to be making those kinds of official announcements. In fact, I don't even get in to see my doctor until the first week of January. So until then, let's see how many boxes I go through, in the spirit of calmed nerves.

Pregnancy Stinks

As if pregnant women didn't have enough to look forward to (stretch marks, fatigue, lack of anything fun to eat or drink - I believe I covered that important topic in blog 1, and raging hormones, to name a few) apparently, one of the tell-tale signs you're pregnant is an unusually heightened sense of smell.

According to What to Expect Before You're Expecting you should be on the look out for "smell sensitivity" while TTC.  "Does your nose know something you don't know (but are hoping for?) Some newly pregnant women report a heightened sense of smell early on - and that could be owing to the increasing amount of estrogen in your system during early pregnancy. If your sniffer's suddenly more sensitive (and easily offended) pregnancy might be in the air."

Easily offended? Oh boy! Sounds fun! Perhaps this is God's twisted way of preparing women for diapers? But really? Did he have to throw in a dog's sense of smell for anything untoward? To me, this seems outrageously unfair, given the fact my gag reflex has a hair trigger. Of course, this brings up the other incredibly unjust aspect of this phenomenon .... of course I think I'm pregnant every time I turn the corner.

First I was accosted by a quart of milk that - according to the date - had one more perfectly good day. And PS - I would never EVER smell milk to make sure it's fresh (that's just gross.) I was about to pour it into coffee when I about keeled over and died from a waft of it.

• Me: "Jared, UGH, smell this milk. Gross!!! Is it sour?
• Jared: "It smells like milk, milk isn't supposed to smell good." 
• Me, more insistent this time: "But seriously, smell it again. Is that normal? No way. It's sour milk."
• Jared: "Wait, it's cuz you think you're pregnant, huh!!!!!" Followed by some good natured ridicule about how I'm totally psyching myself out.

That pretty much describes about 10 subsequent conversations over the next few days, pertaining to various smelly things, such as a wicked bush we walked by on the way to the gym, the gym itself, and a mysterious garlic smell that strangles me every time I open the fridge. Common theme? Me, convinced I've got super human smelling powers, and Jared, convinced, that nothing smells out of the norm (always sure to throw in the disclaimer that he has allergies, presumably, so that if I am pregnant, I technically won't be able to say "I told you so."

The kicker? What to Expect When You're Expecting continues: "But (and there's always a but) some women also experience this smell surge during PMS." The most cruel thing about this whole TTC process is that pregnancy symptoms are virtually indistinguishable from PMS. Really? Boo on that God! Throw us a bone so we'll know if we can enjoy our favorite ahi burger and a good IPA! Until then ... smell ya later! - Dawn.