Myth-busters August 29, 2008
Posted by Mommy in The pregnant progress.Tags: hot
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So, I guess those myths really are actually true: pregnant women are HOT!
Not that kind of hot. I’m talking’ body-temperature hot.
Not that kind of body temperature. I’m talking’ MY body temperature. It’s hot in here!!
This past week I was at a lunch meeting, and everyone else at the table was talking about how cold it was in the room; I was just fine. When I change my clothes at night, they feel extra warm in my hands. And the involuntary fanning has begun. Sometimes, when sitting at my desk in my office, I find that I have picked up some paper or a small book and am fanning myself without even realizing I was hot. What the heck? I’m the one who carries a sweater with her to a conference in Athens, Georgia, in June. I take them to movie theaters, my parents’ house, anywhere I know the AC will be set at 70 degrees or below. I get cold when it’s cloudy.
Alas, one more pregnancy myth to check off my list–my list of things I didn’t believe before they happened to me. So, I’ve busted through this myth by freezing my husband out of our house today. I’m very comfortable at our 72 degree house today; he just went outside to thaw.
Punches and Kicks August 15, 2008
Posted by Mommy in The pregnant progress, Uncategorized.Tags: baby's movements
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Or maybe its elbow and knees. Whatever it is, its hysterical! I’ve decided to interpret her movements and the way I feel them like commentary on what I am/we are doing at any given time. Take last night, for instance. We went to a community meeting about the possible start-up of a charter school in our little city, and as it got closer to the end of the meeting, I realized I was VERY hungry. How did I suddenly realize this? Because I felt progressive little punches and kicks moving all around inside my growing abdomen. “Give me some food!” I think was the message I was supposed to be getting.
When we got home last night, I thought I’d do a little work while lying down trying to get my ankles to be ankles again and not just long extensions of my calf muscles. I got out the computer and, instead of work, started reading a bunch of junk on the internet, and the punches and kicks took off. This one I can’t quite interpret: perhaps she was bored by this, perhaps she was interested in Larry King and all the commentary on the upcoming Democratic Convention, or she might have been thinking, “Hooray! She’s still for a while so I can go nuts!” Whatever it was was funny, and it was kicking the laptop all over the place. D. even got to feel it, and that was cool. It was like letting him in on our little secret.
And it only continued as I got sleepy and turned over to go sleep for the night…or so I thought. I had some REALLY weird dreams last night. Don’t remember them all, but I do remember that one of them was scary and involved Kelsey Grammar. This is your brain on hormones. I woke up a few times but didn’t get out of bed; I didn’t want to interrupt Baby as she was swimming laps and pushing off on the sides of my stomach all night.
Watch out Michael Phelps.
It could be like morse code. Maybe the little bumps and prods are like a kind of language she’s trying out. One kick = I’m hungry! Two punches means = you’re about to have to pee in like 5 seconds. 3 short kicks in a row = Whee! A continuous roll of punches and kicks = pay attention to me! (Like I CAN’T do that?)
This morning when I woke up for the last time, for about 3 seconds, I didn’t think about the fact that I’m pregnant. And then, like a little alarm clock inside my body, there she was: reminding me that my life is no longer mine but hers now, and I love that.
She sent me that message with a few little running kicks, like she was running along the inside of me turning herself over in a flip. Man, I wish there was a camera in there to watch her all the time!
You go with your bad self, Baby. Just watch those ribs…
Her room August 2, 2008
Posted by Mommy in Baby Gear.Tags: baby's room, dresser, recliner
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It occurred to me the other day that all the stuff we’re putting together and placing all around the baby’s room will be hers. The bed is not my baby bed; it’s hers. The pretty new dresser we got for her (see below) is not ours; its hers. The bookshelf we’ll get for all the books we’ll read to her will not belong to us; it will belong to her. It could all even go with her to college or to her first home some day. (Except for the baby bed, I hope.)
(Isn't it adorable??)
Some of you may be thinking, “That looks awfully tall; can you, in fact, reach the top of it?” Yes, friends; and thanks for worrying about my vertically challenged stature-arms in particular. We are not attaching the feet to the bottom of the dresser at this time; to do so would mean that D. would have to change all the diapers. Wait a minute….
Anyway, there is something kind of wonderful about watching her room come together slowly. Last night, as D. was working on putting the dresser together, I sat in the recliner (it will continue to belong to us; sorry, Baby…) watching and surfing the internet for information on things like baby bedding (found a REALLY cute set), baby registries (scary!), and car seat/strollers combos. I think they are called “travel systems.” That sounds like luggage to me, but whatever. I enjoyed my time in the recliner, and so did my swelling ankles, so I wondered why I don’t spend more time in here.
I’ve decided to spend my time working today in here in the recliner, dreaming about our baby girl and everything that she will be. It’s fun to imagine how in love her grandparents and her great aunt and uncle and cousins will be with her. It’s exciting to think of what she will look like and sound like, whether or not she’ll like to read and play outside, watch movies and color. Will she love Shel Silverstein as much as her mommy does?
This just may be my new favorite thing to do.
