A Baby Registry List for the Cheap-#&@ Mother

Stormageddon is 6 months old today, and therefore I have been awarded the title of “Battle-Hardened Mother.”  Now, I really don’t want this blog to be a mommy blog (hence my lack of writing recently), but here I go anyway.

Several of my friends are currently pregnant with their first baby, and some of them are even cheapskates like me.  Friends, this post is for you.  This is a list of everything you will need for the first six months of your baby’s life.  If you want a minimalist’s baby registry list, this is it.

Newborn (0-2 months):

-A place for them to sleep (I highly suggest the Fisher-Price Rock’n’Play or something similar; takes up a minimal amount of space and snuggles them to bed)

-3 blankets (large enough to swaddle them)

-4 shirts, 4 pairs of pants, 4 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of pajamas, and for the winter baby 1 hat and 1 hoodie size 0-3 (do yourself a favor and don’t buy newborn size unless you have a very small baby -6 lbs or less)

-5,000 burp cloths (or 5)

-Either 1 nursing cover or 4 small bottles and a container of formula (if you get bottles, also get a bottle brush; if you’re going the nursing route get a large box of nursing pads)

-Size 1 diapers (don’t do newborn diapers unless you had a tiny baby)

-Lotsa lotsa wipies (Stormageddon kept getting diaper rashes and the rash cream only made it worse, but once we switched to Pampers Sensitive we haven’t had any rashes at all.  This parenthetical has been brought to you by Pampers.)

-2 washcloths, 1 towel, and 1 18ish-oz container of baby wash (it will last you forever; we’ve had ours for 6 months and we’ve barely used any)

-1 fingernail clipper (ours has a flashlight on the end and I thought it was stupid until I actually cut his fingernails – love it!)

-2 binkies

-1 carseat

-1 stroller (getting out of the house will keep you sane – get a stroller)

-1 wrap/carrier/something similar (great for when you need to do chores and they want to be held)

-1 diaper bag

-1 library card (you will get SO sick of reading the same five books every day; we have about 20 and I still got bored of them within a month)

-Baby laundry detergent (some babies get rashes if you use the normal stuff; ours did)

-1 super-awesome stain remover (Oxi-Clean!)

-Something to keep their dirty laundry in and something to keep their clean clothes in

-Baby Tylenol

3 months:

-See clothing needs for 0-2 months size 3-6 (if your kid still fits in their old stuff, just buy enough to keep the numbers up to snuff once you’ve phased out the too-small clothes)

-Size 2 diapers

-Wipies

-Some type of ball/keys/something they can start gripping and playing with (O-Ball makes some great stuff)

-A playmat with things hanging down is wonderful, but not necessary

-Some type of crib if you’re feeling it (Stormageddon is still in a Pack’n’Play and it works great)

-A snuggly animal for naptime/bedtime (the tiny blankets with a stuffed animal head are wonderful)

4-6 months:

-Size 3 diapers – stock up; they’ll be in this size for a while

-Wipies

-See clothing needs for 0-2 months size 6-9 (they start growing like crazy around this time)

-1 mesh food pacifier and some extra mesh bags (uh-may-zing!)

-4 baby spoons (heat-sensitive is nice)

-A bouncy chair/exersaucer is very nice, but not necessary (but you’ll want one)

-Whatever food you feel comfortable feeding your kiddo (Stormageddon loves Cream of Wheat, bananas, sugar snap peas (loves to chew ‘em), celery, cucumbers, apples, bits of bread, ice cream, and pretty much any small piece of whatever The Man and I are eating)

-5 bibs (they won’t protect the hands/face/entire area around the kid from getting dirty, but at least that chest will be clean!)

….aaaaaand that’s it.  Wow, all written out like that makes it look like a huge amount of stuff.  I guess it is.  All the more reason to put it on your registry and let your family and friends buy it for you!

The Proper Caring and Feeding of a Newborn

So you’ve decided to bring home a Newborn.

This high-cost, high-maintenance pet has been a favorite among humans for years now.  While most pet owners do their research in the nine months leading up to the actual Newborn coming home, many are surprised to find their Newborn is even more work than they bargained for.  I have compiled this handy guide after weeks of research for you to turn to in times of frustration.  Please keep in mind that all Newborns are unique, despite their similarity in appearance, so what holds true for one owner’s Newborn may not work for you.

Habitat

Before bringing home your Newborn, many guides recommend “baby-proofing” your house.  This is kind of stupid, considering your Newborn will be incapable of moving very far on its own for many months.  On the other hand, you will have about ten minutes a day to yourself when you bring your Newborn home, so if you’re a better pet owner than this author, you will probably “baby-proof” prior to its arrival.

Your Newborn will need somewhere to sleep.  This can be a crib, a bassinet, your bed, the floor, or a shoebox.  The experts recommend a flat, semi-hard sleeping surface without any blankets or toys around to prevent Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), so the shoebox might actually be your best bet (Newborns come pretty long, so make sure it’s a large shoebox).  Your Newborn will not mind.  Honestly.

During the day, your Newborn will be in its sleeping place, if you’re lucky.  Otherwise it will be in your arms.  Before bringing your Newborn home, make sure to do lots of arm/shoulder/back days at the gym; you will need it.  If you have an even-tempered Newborn, it may let you put it in a wrap or a carrier during the day, which will save you from going insane and will allow you to do some chores.

You do not need a playroom for your Newborn.  They would lie on their back in the middle of the room and just wriggle.  Trust me on this.

Feeding

Newborns eat a lot.  Like, so much.  You can’t even imagine.  You will have just finished feeding them and they will get hungry again.  Unfortunately, this is not your Newborn being a whiner; their stomachs are tiny and empty very fast.  Into their diapers.  More on this later.  Be prepared to start feeding your Newborn again 2-3 hours after you started feeding them last (and feedings can take about an hour so…you will have no life.  Yay!).

There are several options for feeding your newborn; you can mix and match to your preference.

·         Stick your boob in their mouth (if you are the male in your relationship, let your female do this part).

·         Pump milk from your boobs like a cow and bottle-feed your Newborn (males, see note above for the pumping part, although you can definitely help with the bottle part).

·         Buy breast milk from a human female and bottle-feed your Newborn.

·         Mix cow colostrum and goat milk to bottle-feed your Newborn (one of The Man’s sisters had to do this with her son; the boy can now communicate with animals).

·         Feed your Newborn formula (formulas are actually getting better and better as the years go on, so don’t feel bad at all if this is your only option; your Newborn will survive and will still love you).

·         Hire a wet nurse (I wish).

When feeding your Newborn, make sure you burp them.  Yes, this pet is so high-maintenance it cannot even burp itself effectively.  Burp your pet by slapping it on the back repeatedly.  Seriously.  If you do not burp your Newborn, the gas will build up in its gastrointestinal tract and your Newborn will cry until you work the gas out.  You may also need to fart your Newborn.  Do this by pumping its legs in a running fashion while the Newborn is lying on its back, as well as bending your Newborn in half.  Again, that is not a joke.  Feces may explode from your Newborn’s nether regions when you fart it, so never fart your newborn while it is naked.  In fact, never let your Newborn be completely naked; it will leak on you in any way it can.

Clothing

While clothing other pets is deemed frivolous, many Newborn owners will look down on you if you do not clothe your Newborn.  This may seem unfair, but since your Newborn is relatively hairless it is actually recommended that you cover them in some way. 

Luckily, if you throw a pet-welcoming party (called a “baby shower” in some circles) EVERYBODY will buy clothes for your Newborn.  It seems to be irresistible for female humans of a certain age to buy tiny outfits.  Make sure you ask for outfits of varying sizes as your Newborn will, regrettably, grow.

The one item of clothing that you will DEFINITELY need is diapers.  Whether you go with cloth or disposable, your Newborn will fill diapers at an alarming rate; so make sure you have lots.

Due to the difficulty of engineering a diaper that will not leak in any way at all and your Newborn’s propensity towards puking, you will get stains on your Newborn’s clothing.  The Oxi-Clean gel stain stick is incredible at getting stains out (somebody tell Oxi-Clean I said this so they’ll send me more).

Hygiene

Unfortunately, Newborns are totally helpless.  You will need to bathe your Newborn semi-regularly from the time you take it home until it is about 4 years old (at which time it will finally be able to bathe itself to some degree).  Bathing is suggested because Newborns are often covered in some type of bodily secretion, be it feces, urine, or vomit.  If you decide to bathe your newborn every time you find some type of unsavory goo on it, you will spend more time bathing it than feeding it.  On the plus side, Newborns have sensitive skin and for a while you can get away with only bathing it once a week or so.  This may sound gross now, but after your first sponge-bathing experience you will be grateful.

Newborns also need their diapers changed regularly, sometimes 10 or more times a day.  When changing your Newborn’s diaper, speed is the name of the game.  If you are not fast enough, your Newborn may defecate or urinate on you (the urination is worse when your Newborn is male, as he has a farther reach with his stream).  When your Newborn excretes on you (not if; when) don’t freak out.  This is your new life.  Wash it off and get over it.

Entertainment

With limited vision and that all-around confused feeling, your Newborn will not react to any of your attempts to entertain it for a couple of months.  The best you will get is their eyes tracking your face.  Don’t let this keep you from trying, but just be prepared.

No, the best part of a Newborn is its entertainment for you.  Your newborn will often make hilarious faces, strange squeaking noises, and impressively loud farts.  You will also find great enjoyment from your Newborn’s startle reflex, which involves them throwing their arms out to the side any time they are surprised (even in sleep).

Other sources of entertainment include posing your Newborn, drawing on your Newborn, or scrunching up your Newborn’s chubby cheeks.  These will be all the more hilarious in your sleep-deprived state.

Sleeping

This subject is where you will find the most variation among Newborns.  Some new owners are blessed with pets that will sleep around 18 hours a day, in 3 hour increments.  These owners suck.  Other owners have Newborns that sleep 10 hours a day in 30 minute increments.  And sometimes your Newborn will jump all over the spectrum.

As an owner, you will get even less sleep than your Newborn, seeing as you have more requirements out of your day than being fed by someone, being changed by someone, being burped/farted by someone, being calmed and rocked to sleep by someone, and sleeping.  Prepare yourself for days when you are running on 3 hours of sleep.

If this is your first Newborn, you will have the ability to nap when it naps.  If this is your second, third, or fourth Newborn, you are masochistic.  If this is your fifth or further Newborn, you are probably mentally unstable and need to talk to your doctor.

Crying

Your Newborn has three stages of trying to communicate discomfort to you: quiet and kind of adorable whimpers, crying, and hysterical screaming.  Never let it get past the second stage (although this is terrible advice because it will go past the second stage no matter what you try.  Look up PURPLE crying).

Try your best to soothe your Newborn when it cries.  Some experts recommend turning on the washing machine or vacuuming the house.  These experts are men.  Unfortunately, they are also right.  Go figure.  Newborns also respond well to singing, rocking, walking, driving around in the car (make sure they’re sitting on your lap while driving, as their feet cannot reach the pedals), and chilling in the bathroom with the shower on.  If your Newborn does not respond to any of these soothing techniques, try anything you can think of.  If they’re still not calming down, the circus is always looking for more performers and may appreciate an orphan in a basket.

Don’t be afraid to cry with your Newborn.  You’re tired and you deserve a good cry.

This guide may have scared you off of wanting a Newborn, but just remember: humans have been bringing Newborns into their families for at least 40,000 years.  There must be SOMETHING worthwhile about them.  Good luck!

The Arrival of the Dark Lord

Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All, has arrived.

Since everybody else writes their birth stories, I figured I'd put my sleep deprivation to some good use and write mine.

I don't know when to start this story.  Thursday?  Let's say Thursday.

Thursday:

I had a dream Wednesday night where The Man's cousin told me my baby would be born on the 17th (Friday).  Since at this point I was tired of being pregnant, I decided that this dream would come true.  I cleaned the entire house, did all the laundry, and even mowed the lawn.  Semi-painful contractions started happening every ten minutes or so, but then subsided.  I went to bed positive I'd have the baby in 24 hours.

Friday:

Woke up at midnight: painful contractions, 8 minutes apart.  They went away after an hour or so.

Woke up at 4 am: painful contractions, 6 minutes apart.  I called my mum, packed my hospital bag, and walked around the block with The Man.  Contractions went away after two hours.

Woke up at 8 am: painful contractions, 6 minutes apart.  Went away after two hours.

Decided to walk around and induce labor.  Walked for a couple of hours, went to little sister's class (she's a student professor), and started having semi-painful contractions every 3 minutes.  They went away after two hours.

Saturday:

Nothing.  Not a peep.  Felt awesome.

Sunday:

See note on Saturday.

Monday:

Went to doctor's appointment, got checked, no progression of the cervix since the week before (contractions are supposed to help your cervix prepare for labor).  Around 2pm I started having semi-painful contractions.  They didn't go away.  They didn't get any worse.  They were just painful enough that I could still be quiet through them, but I kind of wanted to moan a bit.  And they were about 6 minutes apart.  The Man told me he had a meeting at 8 he needed to be at, but I was free to have the baby after that time.

Around 6:40 my contractions were painful enough that I was crying out a bit, and they ranged from 4 minutes apart to 1.5 minutes apart, but they weren’t lasting super long.  It hurt quite a bit though, so I called The Man, apologized about making him miss his meeting, and made him drive me to the hospital.  When I got there they watched my contractions for an hour, noticed no change in the cervix, gave me a shot of morphine to slow down my contractions, and sent me home.  Apparently the contractions were too close together and too short to actually change my cervix.  The morphine shot would end false labor – if that’s what I was having – and regulate the contractions a bit more if I was in real labor.  I remember The Man driving me home from the hospital, me asking for a root beer float (the treat I wanted after I delivered), The Man not knowing where to go for a root beer float, me being sad, and then…I was home.  And asleep.

Ten minutes later I was crying out in pain.  And again ten minutes after that.  And so it went all night long.

Tuesday:

I eventually got out of bed because I didn’t want to keep waking up The Man anymore with my cries of pain.  I curled up on the couch and called my parents.  I don’t remember exactly what was said, but I remember whining to them about the pain and explaining what had happened the night before and going through several painful contractions while on the phone with them.

The Man started getting ready for school, and I got a text from his sister saying she was coming to pick me up so I could take a bath (our apartment only has a shower).  Apparently my mother had called around and let people know that I was hurting, and The Man has some awesome sisters.

So The Man went off to school, and I went off to his sister’s house – crying out in pain every few minutes.  I took the bath, passed a mucous plug (oh yeah, you didn’t see that piece of nastiness coming, did ya?), and sat on her couch while she timed my contractions on her phone.  Eventually it got to the point where I called The Man and told him he needed to come take me to the hospital.  Right before his afternoon class.

We get to the hospital, and I make it all the way to the reception desk before I have to lean against the wall crying out in pain because of a contraction (those poor people in the waiting room…).  They got me a wheelchair, and I made it all the way to the room and got in the hospital gown in record time before climbing onto the bed, resting on my hands and knees, and letting out an animal scream of pain.  Seriously guys, I have never screamed with so much emotion in my life.  I was holding nothing back.  My nurse turned out to be the lady who taught the “coping with labor” class The Man and I had taken a few weeks back, and she had me work on my breathing during the contractions.  I was at 8cm (you start pushing at 10).  I had been having contractions for 24 hours.  I asked for drugs.  Once they came, it was awesome.

Okay, it wasn’t ALL awesome.  My legs were completely numb, so they were flopping around everywhere.  I farted on a nurse because I had no control of my anal sphincter.  If I hadn’t have had drugs I probably could have had him in a couple hours, instead it took five.  He pooped in the amniotic sac (a sign of stress), and we had to have NICU staff and a respiratory doctor in the room for the delivery.  I tore in four places; one of which was actually inside what we’ll call “the passageway.”  It took the midwife literally an hour to stitch me all the way up.  But you know what?  At the end of the night I had a baby.  And he was healthy and adorable and cuddly.

It’s funny and unfair, but after all the work that I did to get him here, the little punk came out looking exactly like his dad.  He even makes a lot of the same faces.  I guess his dad is pretty handsome though, so that’s good for little Stormageddon.

First Day in Radiology

I volunteer at the local hospital and I recently changed from the Mother/Baby ward to the Radiology department (the place where I wanted to be when I first came on as a volunteer).  Last night was my training/shadowing/first night on the job. 

For those of you who don’t know much about radiology, the term is used to cover pretty much all body scans.  Some of those include ultrasound imaging, x-rays, MRIs, and CT scans.  I’ll be working with the CT scan staff.  CT machines are pretty darn amazing (well, all the technology is amazing, if you think about it).  You lay down on a slab and are run back and forth through a giant donut-shaped machine, which takes images of your body in tiny transverse slivers (see fig. A below).  These images are sent to a computer, which compiles them and creates a 3D image of your body.  CT machines can also do contrast scans, where Barium is injected into your bloodstream, making the images of your vessels extremely clear (see fig. B below) and allowing for the technicians to see if you have an aneurysm (bulgy spot, basically) or a clot.  Very cool, right?

Fig. A

Fig. B

The first hour and a half of training was pretty routine; I helped a few patients on and off the slab, transferred them back to the ER, stocked some cupboards, and watched a few scans from the control room.  I discovered that I’m actually pretty good at determining which organs are being shown on the images, which was a happy surprise.  It was all going swimmingly and I was excited for the constant moving/learning, which I hadn’t had volunteering in Mother/Baby.  Then the control room received a call about a trauma patient being life-flighted in; a motorbike accident.

Internal organ scans can be vital for trauma patients.  They help the surgeons know exactly what needs to be operated on and what they’re going to see when they get in there.  Because of this, most trauma patients that come in to the CT room are pretty fresh from the accident.  This means blood. 

I kind of knew what I was getting into with the transfer to radiology.  I knew I was going to see people from the ER.  I knew some of them would be trauma patients.  I also knew about my reaction to other people’s blood and pain - I’ve always been squeamish.  One time at girls’ camp we did a first-aid training where the older girls applied make-up to recreate injuries like a nail through the hand, an arm fracture where the bone pierced the skin, and more.  I had to be escorted back to the cabin so I could calm down.  It’s not that I scream or anything; I just stare in shock and horror and my insides twist up in sympathetic pain.  I even get that way when hearing stories about injuries; I get it from my dad.  It’s actually the biggest reason I went into teaching instead of medicine.  I wanted to be a physical trainer for a while in high school, all the way up until the day we had a PT as a guest speaker and he brought in pictures of some of the injuries he’d seen.

Anyways.  Back to the story.  So they got the call that this young man was being life-flighted in.  No known name, but they guessed he was about 22.  I quietly started hoping that I would be gone and done with training before he came in, but my luck had run out. 

The story’s about to get a little graphic.  If you get queasy like I do, now might be a good time to skip down a few paragraphs.

When he was wheeled in to the room he had a whole team with him: two surgeons, a respiratory doctor, four RNs, a PCT (patient care technician), and a pharmacologist [?].  One of the CT technicians rushed in to help with set-up, as did my trainer.  She motioned that I should stay where I was in the control room.  During the scanning I really couldn’t see much, except that he had bled through the blanket in several places and the PCT had fresh blood on his scrubs when he entered the control room.  I could see his foot sticking out of the blanket – it was swollen and yellow. 

As I sat in the control room I listened in on what the doctors where saying about his condition: I heard hypotension and tachycardia (low blood pressure and fast heart rate), which signal a lot of blood loss.  The scans showed internal bleeding, at least one severed ureter (the tube that leads from the kidney to the bladder), several broken bones, and more.  The young man was not in good condition.  When the scans where done, my trainer motioned for me to follow the procession back to the ER, so my first good look at the patient was in the hallway.  It’s only been a few hours, but every time I close my eyes I can see it.  He had been wearing a helmet, so the top of his head looked relatively unhurt, but the injuries started at his jaw and covered his entire body.  Let’s just say there was a lot of blood. 

Okay, the graphic part is over.  You can start reading again.

Suffice it to say that it was an interesting night.  While working in Mother/Baby I finally started getting excited about my own little poop machine coming soon.  The few hours I’ve spent in Radiology have made me terrified to lose him or his dad.  That 22-year-old might not have made it through the night; I’ll probably never know.  I do know that when I saw The Man after my shift I didn’t want to do anything but hold him close.  I know that when Stormageddon ninja-kicked me at 3:40 this morning I hugged my belly as best I could and prayed that he’d never ride a motorbike.  I know that I’ve been extremely blessed because my parents, brothers, sisters, and husband have never been seriously injured (The Man likes to joke about that one time as a kid when he almost got stung by a bee).  So in a way, I’m really grateful for this experience for reminding me of how much I love my family.  It’s just making it hard to sleep.  Hello, 5 am.

Update: So I'm posting this way after writing it because I don't have internet at home.  I'm not nearly as traumatized now as I was last night/this morning.  So that's good.

Adventure vs Stability

There is a strange paradox that I’ve encountered; I feel a little short-changed because of my stable life.

Now, I don’t mean for this to be a “woe is me, I’m rich and white and life is so hard because of it” exposition, merely an opportunity to step back and see what is valued in life.

I grew up in a family where all of my siblings came from the same parents, and those parents are still together.  My father has been blessed with a good job, and consequently my mother has been able to spend her time at home with the kids.  For as long as I can remember, my parents have been homeowners, and those homes always had nice-sized yards.  I’m happily married to the first man I really dated.  Life has been very good to me, and yet I sometimes feel it’s not enough.

The best art seems to be about overcoming adversity, rising above the hand you’ve been dealt, and changing your life for the better…but what if you have a good life?

The Man and I recently watched “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.”  It’s a fun movie with a good soundtrack and it leaves you feeling uplifted.  At the same time though, I had a nagging thought in the back of my mind: his life wasn’t all that bad before his life-changing experience.

If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about a man named Walter who works in a managerial position at Life magazine.  He’s close with his family, he’s paid relatively well (enough to not give a second thought to upgrading his mother’s living arrangements), he has friends that he works with, and he’s starting out a relationship with a pretty girl in his office.  And yet the movie hints that because he’s not out there flying across the world on a whim, he’s not fulfilling his destiny and he’s going to be bored and lonely forever.

It’s not really that uncommon of a theme, either.  I mean, yes, there’s the problem of people not living up to their potential, but I feel like a lot of media kind of demonizes an average life.  It’s not enough to have a stable life with a loving family – you need to be out there adventuring.

And you know what?  Adventuring is awesome!  It’s great to go to new places, to meet new people, and to be constantly learning new things.  But what about paying for those adventures?  What about when you find someone you love and you reach the “boring” part of the relationship?  If your whole life you’ve been trying to reach that higher plane at all times…a good life can seem like a bad thing.  Now of course, there are exceptions.  Some people have jobs that allow them to travel the world constantly.  Some people have significant others who also have that luxury and they’re the exciting traveling couple that you see on Facebook and get supremely jealous of.  Not many people are as jealous of the mum posting her 100^th baby picture or the college student who just aced an exam.

So what do we value in life?  Do we value excitement and adventure and thrill-a-minute lives?  Or do we value families that settle down and live the “boring” life with full-time office jobs and lawns to mow and recitals to attend?  Is it honest to say that you can value one without looking down a bit on the other?

This is something I’ve been struggling with a lot lately.  I always wanted to be the adventurous type.  I like spontaneous trips and getting lost in new places.  I used to plan out weekend trips to places across the world like Ireland, New Zealand, Germany, and Greece.  And you know how far I’ve gotten?  Canada and Mexico.  Once to Hawaii, and that was a big deal for me.  And The Man hates traveling.  It’s hard because I WANT to be happy in this life I have.  I WANT to be okay being the housewife or even (gasp!) the working mum.  I WANT to enjoy quilting or scrapbooking or laundry or whatever it is you’re supposed to do when your husband is off at work and you’re stuck alone with your cat and your fetus and no money.  It’s just hard when everything seems to be telling me that I’m not living life to the fullest.

Diary of a Rapidly Expanding Mama Part...3? 4?

30 weeks pregnant and feeling a bit like a water balloon – round, bouncy, and over-stretched.  If you’re weirdly observant you may have noticed that I haven’t really kept to a certain calendar about how far along I am; that’s due to a few things:

1.       Officially I gain a week every Tuesday, due to LMP calculations

2.       When I did my 20 week ultrasound on a Tuesday, the technician said Stormageddon was measuring 20 weeks and 4 days

3.       Last time I was measured I was a week bigger than expected (not that sticking measuring tape on my belly is all that accurate)

4.       I’d really like to have this baby sooner rather than later (smaller babies for the win!), so I’m erring on the hopeful side

So, according to my LMP, I am officially 30 weeks today.  I could be 29, or 31, or any number of week and day combinations, but who really cares besides me and my mother?

This past weekend The Man’s dad and grandfather came into town to have lunch with us (and drop off some gear that we’ve been storing in his dad’s basement), and when asked about the baby I brought out the pictures from his ultrasound.  You never realize how unimpressive those are until you’re trying to show off your baby.  “And here’s his face…It’s a little creepy…Ya, that’s his eye…And here are two pictures of his penis.  And here’s the side of his face…”  Needless to say, they weren’t super impressed.  I keep trying to tell The Man’s dad that he needs to love this baby most out of all the grandchildren because he’ll be the first to carry on the surname, but I think he’s holding out to see if he’ll even want to claim this creature as his grandchild.  There were quite a few unclaimed pronouns in that last sentence; I hope it made sense.

Speaking of the ultrasound, I had a realization this morning: Stormageddon is three times the length he was when those pictures were taken.  And five times the weight.  And his skin isn’t transparent anymore.  So the only pictures I have of him are no longer accurate.  Ah, woe is me…too cheap to pay for extra ultrasounds, and WAY too cheap to get a 3D one.  I’m sure he’s fine and cute and all that.

I’m really learning a lot about myself through this pregnancy.  For example, I am super vain and I’m constantly making sure the stretch marks haven’t come yet (I know, I know, they’re coming…but I keep telling myself that maybe I’m part unicorn and they’ll never show up).  I also get really frustrated with myself when I can’t do simple tasks: walking quickly up hills/stairs, tying my shoes, weeding in the yard for more than fifteen minutes, et cetera.  I gave myself a pedicure the other day; I had to stop every minute or so to sit up straight and breathe again.  And I REALLY get frustrated when I’m confused and lost – enter the baby registry.

Guys, I seriously almost broke down crying the other night just THINKING about putting together a list.  There are so many products out there and so many “necessities” that I’m pretty sure I never saw my mother use…so thank you to everyone who told me to sit back and chill because nobody knows what they’re doing the first time around, and for the succinct lists that DIDN’T include bottle sanitizers and wifi monitors and wipes warmers.  I needed that.   And The Man thanks you for calming his anxiety-ridden wife, even if only for a while :P

I apologize that I haven’t written about anything other than Stormageddon for a while; it’s just that with being unemployed for the summer and only really leaving the house to go to the gym or pick up more books from the library I don’t really have much to contribute.  Terry Pratchett is great.  Rearranging furniture is cool.  Aqua Zumba is quite entertaining to watch.  My cat is the bestest (she’ll even go a whole day without biting me sometimes).  Flies bring out the serial killer in me.  The other day a fly landed on my belly, so I caught him in my hand, transferred him to a tissue, and squished him until I heard the crunch.  Then I squished him a bit more and threw him away.  That was kind of a scary moment, considering I’ve always been the type of person that catches insects (and arachnids) in the house and then releases them into the yard.  It’s just…flies buzz around your face.  And after the hundredth time, it gets a little old.  And then annoying.  And then it makes you want to murder.

It’s ridiculous because we try to keep our doors closed, but we still get so many insects in the house (after my entomology course a couple years ago I just can’t bring myself to call them bugs anymore because they’re not all hemiptera).  The other night The Man and I both had about seven mosquito bites on our backs.  Seven each.  Not counting the bites on our arms and legs.  So last night when a silent mosquito landed on The Man’s sleeve I found myself exclaiming, “it’s quiet, so it’s a female!  Kill it!  Kill it!”  Dang bloodsuckers.

That’s pretty much my life now, though.  A big fetus that seems to be constantly kicking, punching, kneeing, or just sticking appendages in uncomfortable places and pushing; an insect-infested house; way too many fantasy books (like, one 400-page book a day); low-impact workouts; and being excited to have a baby while at the same time being terrified that it’s coming so soon.  Hurrah!

The Highlight of this Post is a Vomit Story

I have officially purchased baby gear.

This is a big deal for me.

See, I'm still in the frame of mind where I KNOW the baby is coming soon and he kicks me so much that I really can't ignore that he's there (plus my burgeoning belly) but I'm still not ready to buy baby stuff because that's just too final.  It means my plans could be officially over once that crib actually has something in it.  I was talking to The Man the other day and I mentioned how the rest of my life (schooling, jobs, etc.) depends on how I handle Stormageddon; I don't think he understands how scary it is because he just laughed it off.

The gear I bought was a Pack 'n Play.  It was selling online for a quarter of the original price and had everything that I wanted - if you're super curious, it's this one.  It is currently folded up and hiding in my house so I don't have to be reminded that I'm never sleeping again.

Oh, speaking of never sleeping again, I had that realization this morning.  It was 4am and probably the fifth time I'd woken up since I'd fallen asleep at 1am and I realized that I really will never sleep again.  I mean, I'll never get to sleep like I used to.  Either I'll be uncomfortable during pregnancy or waking up to feed a newborn or being woken up by kids with nightmares or staying up worrying about if I'm doing things right...I'm going to miss the good old days of a full eight hours.  I'm also going to miss my dreams.  I used to have these crazy vivid dreams and I thought they were supposed to get weirder with pregnancy, but they're starting to get more and more boring, if I even have them.  I honestly believe it's because I'm never asleep long enough to hit my REM cycle.  What else can I whine about?

Ah, the glucose test.  So when you reach around 28 weeks you're supposed to do a glucose tolerance test since maternal diabetes is on the rise.  You drink a super-sugary drink and then get your blood tested an hour later to see how well you're taking in the glucose.  Everyone said it just tasted like flat orange soda and the only complaints are of slight headaches.

I threw it up.

I took small sips, I made sure I wasn't taking it on an empty stomach, and I tried as hard as I could to keep it down, but I failed.  The Man was in bed at the time; his version of what happened went a little something like this:

I heard you talking to yourself as you drank it, saying things like, "oh, I don't feel so good" and "please please please stay down!"  Then you started getting angry at yourself for feeling sick.  Then you said, "okay, okay, I'm getting up!"  and I heard you run to the bathroom and start puking like crazy.  I considered calling the bishop to report a possession (he was joking here...I think).

We then made the obligatory exorcise/exercise joke and he patted my belly and I curled up in the fetal position and tried to not think about what had come out of me just minutes before (a bright orange liquid with chunks of egg and toast in it, if you were wondering).

So yeah, pregnancy is gooooood.  It's fun feeling him move.  It's nice not having to suck in my belly all the time (when I do, it gets all triangular; it's actually kind of fun).  I like having an excuse to lay around reading books in front of the fan all day.  I'm not sure how I feel about The Man grabbing my belly and going, "belly, belly, belly!" in a gravelly voice while shaking it, but I'm getting used to it I guess.

I was measuring 29 weeks yesterday (for those of you who've never been pregnant, they just get measuring tape and see how many inches there are between your pubic bone and the top of your uterus; 29 inches = 29 weeks), so home stretch, here I come!