Wait. What?

On the trip back from St. Louis yesterday, I was reading some of the expecting moms message boards. Specifically, I was reading the July 2011 board-- where all moms are due in July. Since I'm not due until the 30th, the majority of the things the moms post about don't quite apply to me yet so when someone posted about the third trimester, I thought, "Well, I guess that will be coming up in the next few weeks."

This morning I pulled up my app and saw this:

To say I was feeling a little panicked is an understatement.

And then I was talking to Jodie about it this morning and she said, "Just wait until you get to 90 days left. I don't know why but that was when the pressure was really on for me. How many days do you have left?"

I pull up the app. "13 weeks. So that's...." and we were both doing the math in our heads, "91 days!"  So according to Jodie, tomorrow is the day that I'm supposed to start stressing.

We got the furniture last weekend and I'm painting this weekend. We've started some of the work around the house (David accomplished a ton of stuff this week while I was gone!)  and I have a guy coming this week to give me an estimate on all my other "projects."

I feel like I should make some kind of work breakdown structure or a gantt chart or something. That might be a little over the top but it would sure make me feel better.

Road Trippin'

I'm going on a work-related road trip this week to St. Louis. There's an event there that several people from my division are attending. Flights are something like a bajillion dollars so my division management has decided that it would be a good idea to rent a van and take everyone along in one vehicle. It's about a 5-hour trip.

I've only traveled a couple times during pregnancy. Luckily, we've been short on travel funds so that was a good way for me to get out of trips. I went to San Francisco with David (to see Roger Waters!) in December when I was not very pregnant at all, but definitely feeling nauseous most of the time. That was okay and totally worth it. I went to New Jersey alone at about 15 weeks. That was good because it was a relatively short flight and since I was alone, I could crash early and not have to worry about anyone else's schedule. And just a few weeks ago, I went to Los Angeles. I went with a co-worker/friend who was exceptionally considerate of my "condition" (that's what David calls it-- like I'm a leper or something.) And even if he wasn't, since he's also a friend, I'd just tell him to screw off because I need to go to bed at 8:00. That's how I treat my friends, after all.

I'm stressing about this one though. Since we'll all be in one car, I'll be on other people's schedule the whole time. There will be no bailing early. Additionally, this event includes things like tours (i.e. lots of walking and standing) and social events (i.e. someone please shoot me now.) I'm considering my clothing choices very carefully and considering my shoes choice even more carefully. I only have a couple pairs of shoes that still fit my fat, swollen feet at the end of the day-- especially a day that includes walking/standing all morning, sitting all afternoon and then socializing for hours in the evening.

I'll be bringing along pepperoni rolls to make up for the inevitable bathroom and stretch stops that I'm going to require on the drive out and back. I'm also really hoping that my "condition" scores me shotgun because I'm not sure how well I'd handle the backseat for that long. At this point, I can barely handle the front seat of David's car from work to home-- that's just 15 minutes. As if my motion sickness wasn't bad enough, the pregnancy has intensified it to the extreme.

Overall, I'm thinking it's going to be a pretty miserable trip but I'm doing it anyway for a couple reasons. I'll get some face time with division management-- that's boss' boss' boss. And hopefully, my presence will leave the impression that just because I'm pregnant does not mean I'm not still doing my job.

I was a little stressed about being stuck in the van with 4 other people and the inevitable invasive pregnancy-related questions that I'll receive but then I considered the personalities. Analyzing the personalities was quite entertaining to me-- a van full of engineers. Doesn't that sound exciting?! Also, the analysis is probably completely boring to everyone else so you might want to stop reading right now.

Manager-type 1 is super cool and very family-oriented. He's very interested but is also very aware of the line between employee and supervisor so wouldn't be too prying. Perfect. He'll want to talk about Hawaii (and the vacation house he's in the process of buying!!) and that will make me happy.

Manager-type 2 is middle-aged, single, no kids. He's nice, but he doesn't give two shits about my baby-- he's only concerned that I'll still be doing my job come September. And, I will. He'll devour my pepperoni rolls.

Co-worker 1, while quite friendly with me, would be way too embarrassed to ask even the simplest questions about my future child. And, he probably also doesn't care. We'll definitely talk about our cats though.

Co-worker 2 is the mom of a 18-month old. I think she'd ask lots of questions but she'll be way too busy taking advantage of the face time with management. This will inevitably make me want to murder her and leave her body on the side of I-70 somewhere. Hopefully I can restrain myself. Or at least, hopefully one of the guys will help me with the body. I really shouldn't be lifting that much weight.

Here's hoping I make it back in one piece. This will likely be my last work trip until after the baby comes-- probably until the one I have scheduled in October. That's sort of exciting because although I like traveling, it's really been getting old and it's nice to have an excuse for the whole summer.

Ode to Mom

I think an 'ode' is officially a poem. This is not a poem. Whatever.

Earlier in the week, I was having a conversation with Jodie about her birthday this weekend. Maddie understands that it's her birthday and has taken to announcing that "Mommy is 34."

I told her that I specifically remember being in second grade and telling everyone (teachers, the bus driver, neighbors, strangers, whoever),

"It's easy to remember my bus number. My bus is 23 and my mom is 23!"

No seven year old should ever have a 23 year old mom. And, I'm just guessing that moms don't want their kids announcing their age regardless of what it is. I certainly won't want my kid announcing my age when he's seven, which, by the way, will be 38. I can't even fathom it.

Mom, I think things worked out pretty well for us though. I mean, the odds were pretty stacked against us. It's practically a miracle that I'm not a sociopathic serial killer. And you know who taught me about serial killers? You did when you helped me with that sixth grade social studies fair project. Remember? You helped me profile Jeffrey Dahmer, David Berkowitz and the like on one of those folding foam board things. I can't even imagine what my teachers must've thought of that. Oh wait, yes I can. They were probably thinking,

"Someone's going to be profiling this girl one day. Didn't Jeffrey Dahmer have a teenage mother too? I wonder if she likes the taste of human flesh?"

Thanks, Mom, for not turning me into a serial killer (so far) and for teaching me about them. I hope I can do the same for my son.

The Results Are In

I had my 1-hour glucose tolerance test last Friday.  I was lucky that my doctor's office gave me the bottle and told me to drink it at home and then show up at the lab 45 minutes later to have my blood drawn at the 1-hour mark. I hear others have to actually sit at the lab for the whole hour. Yet another reason why I love my doctor's office. I was just glad that I didn't have to take more sick leave since I was able to drink, get tested and still be at work by 9:00.

I was actually a little concerned about failing the test because I've always been a little suspicious about my blood sugar. Maybe because of the good luck I've had with low carb dieting, which is essentially a diabetic diet. I've also had a completely unfounded premonition that I'd have gestational diabetes.

But, I got the results back today-- my blood sugar and iron numbers were both "excellent!" according to the nurse I spoke with.

Excellent!

Aches, Pains and a Stroke of Genius

Warning: I'm about to complain for a minute. I'm pregnant. I'm allowed.

I'm starting to get to the point where my body is uncomfortable most of the time (as opposed to my guts, which have been uncomfortable for a long time.) Like, seriously uncomfortable, not just tell-David-I'm-uncomfortable-so-I-can-get-a-massage uncomfortable. Haha... I'm sure he'll read this eventually and kick my ass for that one. I'm not sure if this is early or on time uncomfortableness. And really, I prefer not to think about it because I still have 3.5 months to go.

In general, my back gets really sore and tired by the end of every day. I know my posture is sucking and I know it's only going to get worse.

We don't get the AC turned on at work until Memorial Day which means it's been almost 80 degrees in the office every day for the past few weeks. By the end of the day, my feet are so swelled up that I can barely fit even my most comfortable shoes back on my feet after kicking them off under my desk. Luckily, once they do turn the AC on, it'll be about 60 degrees in the office all the time and I'll have something new to complain about. It's all or nothing around there.

I asked my doctor about some of the more interesting stuff, knowing full well that the answer to my aches and pains was, "You're pregnant. Suck it up." Turns out, my doctors are a little more sympathetic than I'd be if I had to listen to pregnant women complain all day. That's why they make the big bucks. And the verdict was...

The sharp pain in my side that wakes me up in the middle of the night and makes me this close to waking David up to take me to the hospital-- round ligament pain. I was certain it was kidney failure or something. Seriously. It sucked. Luckily, it's only been about 4-5 times so far.

The constant dull ache in my groin-- also round ligament pain. Apparently those round ligaments are getting a good workout these days.

The sharp pain in my right lower back-- sciatica. That made me sad because it's really bad some days and even when it's not, all it takes is the wrong move and the pain that shoots through my butt and down my leg is enough to make me gasp for air. That gets kind of embarrassing in public settings. A sore muscle that needs a good massagin' would've been a much better diagnosis.

Was that enough whining and complaining for today?

And, now for my stroke of genius. One of my biggest complaints-- yes, bigger than those above-- is having to turn on the bathroom light when I wake up in the middle of the night. Nothing hinders a quick return to slumber like a 60 watt light bulb in the face. Okay, maybe a 100 watt light bulb or having ice water dumped on you or having a dog staring at you from 6 inches away and making that really high pitched crying sound that she makes so you'll get out of bed and give her some breakfast already. But, I digress.

We have exactly one outlet in the bathroom. That outlet doesn't work unless the florescent light above the sink is switched on. Do you see why we need a bathroom remodel? That makes no sense, right? So, a nightlight is completely out of the question because leaving the over-sink light on would completely defeat the purpose.

Drumroll please-- the best $5 I ever spent (and the most ingenious idea I've ever had) was on a three pack of tap lights. I just put one on the counter so it's easy to find and blam! I can easily fall back asleep after my 3am trip and I can ensure that I'm not plopping down on top of Lars quenching his 3am thirst. Lars and I both really appreciate the invention of the tap light.

And now for a little more narcissism-- another picture of ME! That's what you all come here for, right? Me, me, me!! Oh wait, that's only until the baby arrives. Then, no one will care about me at all anymore.



24 weeks, 3 days

I have a couple other things to post about that don't fall under the category of aches, pains or genius so I'll save them for later. I'll start working on them soon though to make my mom happy. She apparently checks my blog daily even though I barely manage to post weekly. Sorry, Mom. I'm a terrible daughter. I also haven't really told you about my aches and pains so I'm sorry you had to hear about them on the Internet too.

Feelin' Crafty and Nesty

This first bit of info is pretty unimportant but I feel the need to document it. If nothing else, so my husband doesn't try to weasel out of it. Not that he would do that or anything, but you know. Insurance.

We've lived in our house for almost 8 years. I've been ready to move out of it for about 6 years. It's not that there's anything wrong with our house. It's just small. And as people are prone to doing, we've managed to accumulate enough stuff to totally fill it up. David assures me that if we had a 5000 square foot house, we'd have enough stuff to fill it up too. I doubt that. If nothing else, just because we can't afford a 5000 square foot house and the stuff to fill it... unless we started hoarding our used toilet paper or something. Just saying. But, I digress...

Sometime last year we looked over the budget and decided that this spring/summer would be a good time to take the plunge and move. That was before things like babies and new cars to haul babies around. So now, that's not exactly the plan anymore. We've compromised by deciding to take a smaller plunge and put some money into remodeling things around the house-- specifically the kitchen and bathroom. We'll also hire a handyman to take care of little things but that list of "little things" is quite large. Last, and possibly most importantly, we'll invest in some good storage solutions. It's all stuff that we could do on our own but honestly, we just don't want to.

And the reason for that little story is because I've also decided that I'll go ahead and paint/decorate the baby's room. I've been saying that I wasn't going to paint it because "we'll be moving soon." I'm not sure who I was kidding. And everyone would tell me what a terrible mom I'm going to be because I was planning on leaving his room gray. How dare I!?!

So, I've been checking out colors and haven't really come up with anything yet. I'm a huge fan of blue in general but that just seems a little too obvious. I guess I'm just looking for the "right" blue. I've also been looking at artwork. I found a bunch of stuff on etsy that was way cute. Very homemade looking. And that's when I started thinking, "Why would I pay $20 for that? I can totally make it myself!" I did a trial version over the weekend.

Tower of Turtles



Birds on a Wire



The backgrounds look gray but they're actually white. You'd think I'd be able to use a little white balance in my photo editing software, but you'd think wrong. I'm way too lazy for that today. I blame the pregnancy. I want to spend some time in the scrapbooking isle (*love*) picking out the best matching main prints for the real version of these. I also want to make two more so I can put them four across the wall behind the crib in white frames. I can't decide what other animals are easy enough to make for the other two. Fish, maybe? Any ideas?

I also played with the two below. I think I'll put one on either side of the window. I definitely need a better brown-- it's oddly shiny and David says I need yellower eyes for this first one.

 

LARS (which I might write top to bottom under the whiskers)

LAIKA (I think I'll write this along the curve of her back)

Also, I had an appointment on Monday. The heartbeat is normal, the uterus is growing, nothing else.

We had our tour/orientation at the hospital tonight. It was great. I'm so happy about the practice that I've chosen and now I'm feeling the same way about my hospital.

It's a good thing...

...that I'm not hormonal or emotional or anything. Because if I was, I'd be crying or murdering people all the time. I do, however, have a fabulous time documenting the stupid things people say to me...

Old Boss apparently asks about me all the time (but never stops by to ask me himself.) Apparently it always goes a little something like this:

"How's Bonnie? Is she getting fat?"

Fat?! I guess it's good that he doesn't stop by and ask me that himself.

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Megaphone Man finds me chatting with Tracy on Monday morning.

Megaphone Man: Stand up!
Me: No.
Megaphone Man: Stand up and let me see you!
Me: I think this is sexual harassment.

Yet, I stand up anyway. He got this look on his face like he was about to cry, let out a big "Awwwwwww" and bear hugged me. He can say whatever he wants, but I know he was just hugging me so he could feel my belly with his belly. Creepster.

(For the record, I really like Megaphone Man. He's like a work dad. But, that doesn't mean I don't think he's completely insane too.)

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In the main corridor of our office, I pass Old Vietnamese Guy. I haven't told him the news but after this, I'm hoping he knows.

"Hey Bonnie! Getting heavier every day, huh?"

Heavier? Mentally, I gave him a pass but David reminded me that although he's from Vietnam, he's been in the US longer than WE'VE been in the US-- meaning, longer than we've been alive. He has no excuse for not knowing that you should never tell any woman, pregnant or not, that she's getting heavier every day!

Like I said, it's a good thing I can get a laugh out of these things because otherwise, I'd be crying.

And, because I know the only reason anyone comes to my blog is to see how FAT and HEAVY I'm getting...