20 Weeks Today!

The greatest mystery of life: conception. I am sure that all of us have had that moment when you consider just for a second the miracle that is life. How it seems that out of nothing comes something so life changing. Those tiny tiny little things, egg and sperm, collide in a race for reproductive magic(insert ooohs and aaahs here.) Then of course are the other little joys, like never going to the bathroom. After my bout with the stomach flu last week, my system had completely emptied itself by Wednesday morning at 5am and it didn't kick back into gear until Saturday. We took my folks (picture below) to Bern's Steakhouse to celebrate my dad's 71st birthday and on the way I was so excited already at someone going poo poo in the potty, I announced it to the entire car!Luckily, I have a great family so everyone cheered and it was almost as exciting as when I graduated college, in some ways, even more so.

Today the baby is a cantaloupe. I am not sure it looks like a cantaloupe inside of me. I definitely have a bump which I am really thrilled about. But I am fairly sure that at some point in life I have taken a cantaloupe and stuck it under my t-shirt and looked longingly into the future and it certainly did not look like I do now, which I suppose is a blessing.

It turns out that April 29th is my sonogram appointment, I had been thinking it was April 27th. I can barely hold myself together. I can't wait to see the baby again! God willing, everything will be good news and gender revealing!

We have been in a multi-phased program (designed by us) to create the adequate amount of space for the baby. Phase 1 was dishwasher and kitchen remodel: done. Phase 2 was packing up our 15 boxes of books and placing them in a newly wooded attic: done. Phase 3 is the garage reorganization. Phase 4 is moving spare bedroom furniture into garage. Phase 5 is paving the patio (not really baby related but I think it will add a sense of whimsy to my summer!) and Phase 6 is painting the baby room, placing the furniture in it and nurserying the place up! We are currently in Phase 3.

Onion Bras

This morning emerged with the gray glum that only can truly only effect a Floridian. It's been a rough weather year for us and the gray just drags us into the depths of despair. I arrived to school on this Monday morning, already dragging my feet thought with 8 deep sleep hours under my belt, and reported to my study hall post which is located in the school cafeteria. The overwhelming smell of onions circled me for the entire hour to the point that it felt as if I was being personally assaulted by this normally delicious vegetable. They had me from all angles. They must have had onions on the salad bar, the sandwich station, the soup de jour, the fried food, the hot food...the overwhelming stench trapped my nasal follicles for hours after. I stuck lotion on my hands and rubbed the outside of my nose, hoping, wishing, and praying that the onions would just go away.

In the meantime, I am suffering from maternity bra woes. My chest, already a generous size from the Big Guy up above, are clearly in preparation for providing nutrients to my future offspring. For the record, it was just a couple of days ago that I could not fit in my regular bras well any more. In preparation for this event, I had been shopping, searching, and ultimately dreaming about the right type of pregnancy undergarment. First, Motherhood has a monopoly on this industry. They own Pea in a Pod, Destination Maternity, and even brand domination of "Oh Baby," and "Loved." They are also the main distributors for Kohls, Macy's, and Sears. As the search begins, this kernel of wisdom is apparent. There is nowhere to run. Second, once I have realized my limits. I am quickly disappointed by the selection. I do not normally wear bras with padding because I have no need. Almost 80% of the bras have padding. I normally wear bras with an underwire because I need to. Almost 17% of the bras do not have underwire. There is only one! One bra that they carry that fits the description and it only comes in a weird cream color, which I purchased because I have no other choice. In the hopes of being open minded, I also picked up a padded black bra, choosing underwire over no underwire. It will work. But the thing is that my chest looks bigger than it already feels and as many of you moms out there know, this is one time that you really don't want to feel any bigger.

Your body is changing and though there is a rational understanding of why and every ounce of thrill and excitement only serves to help this understanding there still is a societal standard that is so deeply embedded in the female psyche that does not simply fade away during this amazing time of life. It just doesn't. It's sad really that body image woes even cross our minds in these 9 months knowing that the most fantastic thing is going to be the result, but the truth is that it does. The awkward stages where you don't quite look pregnant and those that do not know you well or not at all will glance over at you and probably think you are just getting fat. It hurts the ego just a little.

You compound this with the inability to find a bra that feels right and the overwhelming smell of onions on a glum gray day, and well you just want to roll back into bed for another 8 hours of deep sleep. Luckily, the clouds have faded away and sun has begun to shine.

Week 19: Almost 5 MONTHS!

There is no sly way of telling you all my blog reading public which at this point is down to like two folks that check every now and again: I am pregnant. My mom doesn't even read it any more...sad really. Perhaps, I should teach her how to use her new computer. It may help the budding writer inside of me. It takes me back to being 8 or 9 when I used to write short stories and illustrate them. I would sell them to my mom for a dollar so I could go to the corner 7-11 and buy penny candies. In those days, by which I mean the eighties, there were multiple shelves of candy and as you got higher the more expensive it was. The lowest shelf was all a penny, then the one above was five cents, the one above that one was ten cents...you get the idea. A dollar would go a long way.

I digress. I am almost 5 months into my pregnancy. My baby is the size of a mango. I get this information weekly from the IPhone apps that I have. What I question about these fruity comparisons is the selection process. Do they look up fruit and vegetable averages in order to make their assertions about the weekly baby size or are they just making it up? For example, last week the baby was the size of a sweet potato. Sweet potatoes are a bit awkward and longish while this weeks mango, is round and shortish. Did my baby shrink? Did it curl up?

Being pregnant has been great. I really have enjoyed it thus far and have little to complain about. The one overwhelming, unshakable, bizarrely indescribable thing about being pregnant is the cognitive recognition that you have a real life inside of you. A person is just hanging out inside of you. There are moments that I wish I had his or her number or email so I could be sure that they are doing well in there. Any day now, according to the literature, I should be feeling movements. A flutter. A tap. That will be nice. A physical: "Hey Mom! All clear!"

Orange You Glad?

I love orange juice! I always have. When I was kid I would go through several gallons a week. I love everything about it and it turns out it provides you with essential vitamin C. Yum and Yum. As I got older I had to slow down on my orange juice intake. The delightful taste and the vitamin benefits did not outweigh the unbelievable amount of sugar that each ounce holds. Diabetes runs rampant in my family therefore the less gratuitous sugar intake the better for the eventual demise of my pancreas.

Recently my biochemistry has changed significantly and therefore, for the next glorious nine months I will gladly indulge in the greatest of the lord's juices, the sweet nectar of Florida, the orange. The only thing is now it takes a Masters degree in Citrus (which my undergraduate school still offers) to select the orange juice. There are a million flipping types of orange juice. There has always been the choice of pulp or no pulp. I prefer the pulp-less but if that was the only decision to make I would be okay. I would say no problem! But normally I find myself in the produce department starring at the orange juice refrigerator for 20 minutes thinking Vitamin D is good it's in that one...but wait that has some pulp, not lots of pulp like this one...but wait, this one has Calcium and no pulp, won't that be the best? This one is for a healthy heart....this one has antioxidants (those are important right?)....that one is the healthy kids one...definitely a good thing. Low sugar? Low acid? Ahhhhh! Tropicana has made a mountain out of an orange!

It may be easier to hop on a pick up truck, get the oranges myself and bring them back to fresh squeeze the morning treat. It would take at least the same amount of time. Sigh. I grabbed what I perceive to be the original orange juice. No frills. No pulp. Just tasty.

Going to Church...sort of.

On Saturday night, me and my girls went to see our girls, the Indigo Girls that is. I have seen them in concert about 30 times. Every time I have seen them it is like going to a spiritual revival. We all know all of the words to all of the songs. We know their faces. We know their appreciative smiles to their faithful audience. We know that with every "Thanks ya'll" that these two individuals have managed to transform us.

The House of Blues was packed. It's a great concert venue because even though it's general admission there is no bad seat in the house. Every where you look there is some cool bit of artwork on the wall, a little folky but I like that sort of thing.

For years I heard guys tell me that they appreciate the musicianship of the Indigo Girls but they just don't relate to to them. For years I accepted this as well they are women, who are lesbians which very well may not connect with a guy's point of view. But on Saturday as I listened to their set list go from titles on a page to music I no longer believe them. Simply they aren't listening.

Opening song: Galileo A critique on the inequity of the Catholic church. The current generation pays for the mistakes made by others in other lifetimes. It takes lifetime after lifetime for humanity to socially evolve. We as individuals are in the process of evolving and searching for our personal enlightenment, we can only hope to have a few more lifetimes to make it. Shame on You addresses the problem of immigration. Become You talks about the South and Slavery. Least Complicated talks about the adolescent struggle of love and becoming who you regardless of sexual orientation.

Through the years, I have seen them fight for Native Americans, against unethical treatment of animals, and for EVERYONE's equal rights. Recently, their most recent support is for batter women in conjunction with the Fight the Fear Campaign. They give back to their local communities through benefit concerts. They aren't saints but they are certainly individuals with a sense of global and local responsibility.

The Indigo Girls fill my soul with hope. They fill my heart with joy. Every time. Listen.