I'm enjoying having doctor visits every two weeks. I just like being told everything is okay. I don't think this is unusual at all. :)
So, everything is great! I'm measuring ever-so-slightly small (28 weeks when I'm slightly over 30 weeks), but the doctor wasn't concerned at all. A range of two or even three weeks on either side is completely normal, and I read that larger discrepancies occur the further along you get, usually due to maternal size.
The heartbeat sounded great, my blood pressure was great, I didn't have a high blood sugar count (as determined by the test I had last time) and I'm not anemic. I didn't gain any weight, which I thought was strange because my bathroom scale told me I'd gained about two pounds. I have been focusing on eating more healthfully than usual the past couple weeks, so that could easily explain my lack of weight gain (whole grains keep my weight in check; cookies don't). Once again, the doctor wasn't worried at all, and I'm looking forward to a nice, big lunch.
The coolest thing about the appointment was that the doctor was actually able to feel the baby and how she's positioned! Some babies are actually in position by this time (head-down), but Baby Girl is not. She's more or less sideways, with her head pointing at 8:00 if you're looking at me straight-on. Not to worry--it's still plenty early, and it might be the appointment after next before she's in position, or even later (or never, but we won't think about that).
My next appointment is May 14. I'm already looking forward to it!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Babysitting round two
Believe it or not, we babysat again, for the child of someone who read my last post, no less. It surprised us to be asked as much as it's probably surprising you. Needless to say, we jumped at the chance to give babysitting another shot.
The scenario:
A 2-year-old boy needed to be fed, kept safe and entertained while his parents were out to dinner. The job would last 2-3 hours, and shouldn't require anything as complicated as oh, say, calming a baby and putting her to sleep.
Advantages on our side:
The child is known for being well-behaved and easy-going. An added bonus is that he considers us family. When he lists his family members, we're right after the grandparents and before the aunts/uncles. Not sure how that happened, but I think it helps that his mom and I look similar and we live in the area whereas his extended family lives out of state.
The babysitting job started disastrously. Apparently, the child had recently been frightened by a dog, and, seeing our cats as mini-dogs (something they would be shocked and appalled at), cowered in his mother's arms as soon as he saw them. We rounded them up and herded them into various upstairs rooms to stay for the duration of his visit. Crisis averted, the parents left for their dinner as the child was beginning his.
We crossed our fingers. No tears. We began the tricky process of figuring out how to babysit a two-year-old.
First up was feeding. We knew we needed to convince the slightly picky child (it turns out, pregnant women and two-year-olds have a lot in common when it comes to eating) to eat all or most of his food, and avoid giving him his milk, which it seems he could drink all day, until we absolutely had to, because one sippy-cup-full was all he would get (this was his mother's advice). We also needed to fix our own dinner at some point, etc.
Within 5 minutes the child had convinced me to give him his milk, had rejected his pasta and raisins and was going after tiny, slippery bits of peach with a fork. Very impressed that he managed to carefully stab each peach piece and get it into his mouth, I was eager to "help" (read: see if I could do it, too). It took me a couple of tries and slightly annoyed the child because I'd taken his fork away, but the result was successful, and I even gave him his fork back once I'd fed him all the pieces that he truly wouldn't have been able to get. While he was so distracted, I managed to take his milk away for a little while (don't worry--he asked for it again and soon had it finished). I also slipped him some pasta and raisins, so he had a fairly complete meal.
Then it was time for us to eat, and also experiment with holding our own conversation while still being dutiful babysitters. Yes, he was something of a practice child during this time. Fish Tank once again got MVP, as it's right there in the dining room and fascinating to this particular two-year-old. He also entertained us with his singing caterpillar toy--we're still singing along days later. And Matt and I managed to have something of a conversation--not bad!
As a side note, we wrestled with the question of what good babysitting really constitutes. We often found ourselves sitting there staring at the child--not doing anything, just staring. Was this necessary?
The child's mom had clued us in that his favorite game nowadays was to sit in a couch-cushion fort and hand stuffed animals back and forth. Matt thought this sounded like great fun, so he headed upstairs to bring down our plethora of extra pillows while I cleaned up dinner. He then delighted the child for more than an hour with an awesome, tunnel-like fort, and we dutifully passed the stuffed whale and stuffed turtle back and forth until my pregnant self had to quit crawling around on the floor.
Our minor mishap was a bump on the head, caused by a non-child-proofed end table. We did not abuse the child! The child fell on his own! Any bruises are not our fault! He's a tough kid, though, and didn't even cry. Personally, I would've demanded ice cream.
The evening ended with a reading of Fox in Sox by Matt. That's a really in-depth book! I'd forgotten there was so much to it, so I listened in, too.
But wait...was the evening ended? It wouldn't be over without one final catastrophe and lots of tears. Fortunately, it happened after the parents had returned.
The incident involved the couch-cushion fort. The guys/child were still playing in it, and...oops!...it fell in on the child. That in itself wouldn't have been a huge problem (it had happened earlier in the evening), except things got a little tangled and the child couldn't push the cushions, blankets and pillows off of himself. Hysterics ensued. Once he was on his mom's lap and had a graham cracker for each hand, he felt better. (I, again, would've demanded ice-cream.)
Overall, I think this is one that might've earned us a call-back. Meanwhile, I'm trying my best to figure out how to birth a two-year-old instead of an infant.
The scenario:
A 2-year-old boy needed to be fed, kept safe and entertained while his parents were out to dinner. The job would last 2-3 hours, and shouldn't require anything as complicated as oh, say, calming a baby and putting her to sleep.
Advantages on our side:
The child is known for being well-behaved and easy-going. An added bonus is that he considers us family. When he lists his family members, we're right after the grandparents and before the aunts/uncles. Not sure how that happened, but I think it helps that his mom and I look similar and we live in the area whereas his extended family lives out of state.
The babysitting job started disastrously. Apparently, the child had recently been frightened by a dog, and, seeing our cats as mini-dogs (something they would be shocked and appalled at), cowered in his mother's arms as soon as he saw them. We rounded them up and herded them into various upstairs rooms to stay for the duration of his visit. Crisis averted, the parents left for their dinner as the child was beginning his.
We crossed our fingers. No tears. We began the tricky process of figuring out how to babysit a two-year-old.
First up was feeding. We knew we needed to convince the slightly picky child (it turns out, pregnant women and two-year-olds have a lot in common when it comes to eating) to eat all or most of his food, and avoid giving him his milk, which it seems he could drink all day, until we absolutely had to, because one sippy-cup-full was all he would get (this was his mother's advice). We also needed to fix our own dinner at some point, etc.
Within 5 minutes the child had convinced me to give him his milk, had rejected his pasta and raisins and was going after tiny, slippery bits of peach with a fork. Very impressed that he managed to carefully stab each peach piece and get it into his mouth, I was eager to "help" (read: see if I could do it, too). It took me a couple of tries and slightly annoyed the child because I'd taken his fork away, but the result was successful, and I even gave him his fork back once I'd fed him all the pieces that he truly wouldn't have been able to get. While he was so distracted, I managed to take his milk away for a little while (don't worry--he asked for it again and soon had it finished). I also slipped him some pasta and raisins, so he had a fairly complete meal.
Then it was time for us to eat, and also experiment with holding our own conversation while still being dutiful babysitters. Yes, he was something of a practice child during this time. Fish Tank once again got MVP, as it's right there in the dining room and fascinating to this particular two-year-old. He also entertained us with his singing caterpillar toy--we're still singing along days later. And Matt and I managed to have something of a conversation--not bad!
As a side note, we wrestled with the question of what good babysitting really constitutes. We often found ourselves sitting there staring at the child--not doing anything, just staring. Was this necessary?
The child's mom had clued us in that his favorite game nowadays was to sit in a couch-cushion fort and hand stuffed animals back and forth. Matt thought this sounded like great fun, so he headed upstairs to bring down our plethora of extra pillows while I cleaned up dinner. He then delighted the child for more than an hour with an awesome, tunnel-like fort, and we dutifully passed the stuffed whale and stuffed turtle back and forth until my pregnant self had to quit crawling around on the floor.
Our minor mishap was a bump on the head, caused by a non-child-proofed end table. We did not abuse the child! The child fell on his own! Any bruises are not our fault! He's a tough kid, though, and didn't even cry. Personally, I would've demanded ice cream.
The evening ended with a reading of Fox in Sox by Matt. That's a really in-depth book! I'd forgotten there was so much to it, so I listened in, too.
But wait...was the evening ended? It wouldn't be over without one final catastrophe and lots of tears. Fortunately, it happened after the parents had returned.
The incident involved the couch-cushion fort. The guys/child were still playing in it, and...oops!...it fell in on the child. That in itself wouldn't have been a huge problem (it had happened earlier in the evening), except things got a little tangled and the child couldn't push the cushions, blankets and pillows off of himself. Hysterics ensued. Once he was on his mom's lap and had a graham cracker for each hand, he felt better. (I, again, would've demanded ice-cream.)
Overall, I think this is one that might've earned us a call-back. Meanwhile, I'm trying my best to figure out how to birth a two-year-old instead of an infant.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Lungs, or lack thereof
Funny thing about lungs. You don't notice them until they're gone, but then you really, really notice them. I find it a bit ironic that as Baby Girl is developing the air sacs that will make her wails loud and clear post-birth (not that her demeanor will ever be anything but pleasant), I'm losing mine. This is exactly along the lines of my "Baby eats what she's developing" theory.
From my side of the world:
I first noticed my lungs missing a couple weeks ago, shortly after returning from Illinois. During my visit, I'd taken care to stay active during the week, walking my sister's dog (or letting the dog walk me, since I simply can't say no to cute, furry animals) and even taking a turn on the treadmill. This was to make up for the massive amounts of delicious food I was eating, and also so my doctor would still like me at my next appointment.
When I returned to North Carolina and Matt and I ventured out on one of our neighborhood walks, the strangest thing happened: I barely made it! After we rested on a bench for a few minutes, I managed to slowly pant and gasp my way home.
I began to have similar experiences when I exerted myself in other ways--emptying the dishes, for instance, or doing laundry. Apparently, my breathing privileges were being revoked.
This wasn't the first time in pregnancy that I'd had trouble with exercise--for a span of about a week or two my round ligament pain kept me from walking too far. However, the difference later on was that I actually felt fine. Not tired. Not pained. Not nauseated. I felt just about the best I had all pregnancy, with the minor exception of not being able breathe.
So, contrary to my normal reaction to painful exercise, I pushed myself harder the next time we walked, thinking I was simply out of shape. And as a result, my round ligament pain came back and I limped, panted and gasped home, only to collapse in a fetal position on the couch.
I thought I was pathetic. Here I am, still able to hide my pregnancy (even the woman who searched me at security at the airport couldn't tell until I told her), and I can hardly make it through a short neighborhood walk!
I decided to try a different form of recommended pregnancy exercise: squats. I did two (not two sets--just two), and promptly got bored of them (exercise really isn't my thing). Good thing I quit: I was sore for the next two days. What?!? This was the most out of shape I'd ever been, yet other than that, I felt fine! What's a girl supposed to do???
Fortunately, reality intervened. A friend nicely reminded me that I'm pregnant. It hit me over the head and quieted my inner guilt complex immediately. It also took me by surprise. Suddenly, the pieces started fitting together--I'm newly in my third trimester. I'm not, nor have I ever been a professional athelete. Baby Girl is growing, and squishing my lungs (or eating them). It's all downhill from here until I deliver, and there's really nothing I can do about it. What a novel idea.
I'm still exercising, but I'm limiting myself, too. If I'm on my feet all day, for instance, sitting out on the deck enjoying the weather might be the most exercise I need. Fine by me.
From Baby's side of the world:
As I'm learning how to get by without much air, Baby is starting to learn to breathe! Her lungs are still developing--they're one of the last organs to be ready to go--and she practices using them by making little movements with her diaphragm. These movements can actually lead to hiccups, which I'll be able to feel. In fact, I may have felt them last week--they're small, rhythmic motions. Very cute.
Interestingly, if Baby were to be born today, her lungs would be one of the biggest concerns. She'd likely be just fine with help, but may need to be on a ventilator or respirator for a few weeks until she's ready to breathe on her own.
A few other facts: she probably weighs about 3 pounds (although this could easily vary by half a pound either way), and is about 15 inches long. She's sensitive to light and she can hear. Like her mother, she's happily adding layers of fat and will continue to do so until delivery.
So at least my lungs are going to a good cause. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to seeing them again in a few months.
From my side of the world:
I first noticed my lungs missing a couple weeks ago, shortly after returning from Illinois. During my visit, I'd taken care to stay active during the week, walking my sister's dog (or letting the dog walk me, since I simply can't say no to cute, furry animals) and even taking a turn on the treadmill. This was to make up for the massive amounts of delicious food I was eating, and also so my doctor would still like me at my next appointment.
When I returned to North Carolina and Matt and I ventured out on one of our neighborhood walks, the strangest thing happened: I barely made it! After we rested on a bench for a few minutes, I managed to slowly pant and gasp my way home.
I began to have similar experiences when I exerted myself in other ways--emptying the dishes, for instance, or doing laundry. Apparently, my breathing privileges were being revoked.
This wasn't the first time in pregnancy that I'd had trouble with exercise--for a span of about a week or two my round ligament pain kept me from walking too far. However, the difference later on was that I actually felt fine. Not tired. Not pained. Not nauseated. I felt just about the best I had all pregnancy, with the minor exception of not being able breathe.
So, contrary to my normal reaction to painful exercise, I pushed myself harder the next time we walked, thinking I was simply out of shape. And as a result, my round ligament pain came back and I limped, panted and gasped home, only to collapse in a fetal position on the couch.
I thought I was pathetic. Here I am, still able to hide my pregnancy (even the woman who searched me at security at the airport couldn't tell until I told her), and I can hardly make it through a short neighborhood walk!
I decided to try a different form of recommended pregnancy exercise: squats. I did two (not two sets--just two), and promptly got bored of them (exercise really isn't my thing). Good thing I quit: I was sore for the next two days. What?!? This was the most out of shape I'd ever been, yet other than that, I felt fine! What's a girl supposed to do???
Fortunately, reality intervened. A friend nicely reminded me that I'm pregnant. It hit me over the head and quieted my inner guilt complex immediately. It also took me by surprise. Suddenly, the pieces started fitting together--I'm newly in my third trimester. I'm not, nor have I ever been a professional athelete. Baby Girl is growing, and squishing my lungs (or eating them). It's all downhill from here until I deliver, and there's really nothing I can do about it. What a novel idea.
I'm still exercising, but I'm limiting myself, too. If I'm on my feet all day, for instance, sitting out on the deck enjoying the weather might be the most exercise I need. Fine by me.
From Baby's side of the world:
As I'm learning how to get by without much air, Baby is starting to learn to breathe! Her lungs are still developing--they're one of the last organs to be ready to go--and she practices using them by making little movements with her diaphragm. These movements can actually lead to hiccups, which I'll be able to feel. In fact, I may have felt them last week--they're small, rhythmic motions. Very cute.
Interestingly, if Baby were to be born today, her lungs would be one of the biggest concerns. She'd likely be just fine with help, but may need to be on a ventilator or respirator for a few weeks until she's ready to breathe on her own.
A few other facts: she probably weighs about 3 pounds (although this could easily vary by half a pound either way), and is about 15 inches long. She's sensitive to light and she can hear. Like her mother, she's happily adding layers of fat and will continue to do so until delivery.
So at least my lungs are going to a good cause. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to seeing them again in a few months.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Officially freaked!
We babysat last night. The child in question is a 3 1/2-month-old known for being a good sleeper and a cheerful baby. Apparently, it was opposite day at the Odegaard household!
Baby was comfortably fed, diapered, swaddled and on her way to a deep sleep when her parents left. I remembered being disappointed that I wasn't going to get any "baby time," as she would very likely sleep soundly until her parents returned. In fact, she hadn't napped well that afternoon, so she was doubly guaranteed to spend the evening in dreamland.
Five minutes after her parents left, she fussed a little. And a little more. And a little more. I waited a full minute before heading upstairs to calm her (or so I thought...).
As soon as Baby laid eyes on me, she started crying even louder. I scooped her up and proceeded to use the tried-and-true soothing techniques I'd learned from a great DVD, Happiest Baby on the Block. One by one, they all failed.
Time to resort to our universal baby calmer: the fish tank. The light and smooth motions of the fish always seem to attract the attention of our friends' kids, and everyone from a three-month-old to a two-year-old have loved to just stare at it.
It worked! Temporarily, anyway. I'd accomplished the task of quieting the baby, but she certainly wasn't sleeping. At least it was some relief.
At this point, Matt had gotten dinner ready, so we took turns eating and trying to keep the baby calm. Soon, the fish tank, a really cool fuzzy book, our ceiling fan and other things failed us, one by one. We checked the diaper: dry. We tried a bottle: she sobbed between sips.
This is when I started to notice our parenting styles come to light. Scientific, ultra-patient Matt rationalized that nothing was actually wrong with the baby, and was prepared to wait it out. I freaked, blamed myself for causing the poor child emotional turmoil that would haunt her the rest of her life, and hoped that the baby's parents would still be friends with me.
The freaking out led to the best idea I'd had all evening: I called a friend with a 5-month-old. Hearing the cries over the phone, she knew the baby was very tired, but couldn't necessarily calm herself down at this point. Her guidance helped us coax the little one to sleep within 5-10 minutes--using the same DVD techniques I'd tried earlier! Whew! Problem solved, right?
But then, we noticed we were one cat short of our pair of cats. The missing cat is a regular Houdini when it comes to sneaking wraith-like into small, hidden places, only to appear hours later. She also yearns with a passion to be outside. A quick, yet thorough, search of the house yielded two possibilities: either she was in the room with the baby or roaming the neighborhood (Matt had been grilling and going in and out a lot). Neither was appealing! Do we risk waking the baby to try to find our cat? Do we start combing the neighborhood? We decided to risk the baby's room.
Matt ventured in with his trusty flashlight. Our other cat immediately recognized the beam as a toy and went happily romping in with him, only to get tossed rather harshly out. He looked all over the room for a full 5 minutes, successfully not waking the baby. No cat. we searched every other room, top to bottom, several times. No cat. Matt walked outside around the house. No cat!!!
I went into the baby's room to look for myself. No cat. Matt went back in. Cat!!! She had been wedged in between the two mattresses of our daybed, completely hidden from view. He'd only found her by sticking his hand in. I heard the small meow of protest on the baby monitor when he pushed her out.
The rest of the evening was, fortunately, uneventful. I was finally able to be soothed with ice-cream. I learned several things:
1. I might be frustrated, tired, and confused as a new mom, but I will not be bored.
2. At least I'll have the home-field advantage with Baby Girl.
3. Matt's patience knows no end whatsoever. This will come in handy.
Anybody else want us to babysit? :)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Doctor visit post!
Yesterday I had a doctor visit! It was time for my scheduled gestational diabetes test, as well as my regular checkup.
The diabetes test is a cruel trick on both mother and baby. Basically, after having little or no sugar for a while (in my case, overnight--I had an egg for breakfast), you drink what amounts to concentrated fruit-flavored pop, with extra sugar.
Then you wait for an hour, slightly lightheaded the whole time, and they draw blood for testing. Here's what's wrong with the picture:
If they're testing you for diabetes, does it really make sense to flood your system with lots of sugar?
If I'm supposed to be more or less limiting my sugar, is it really good for the baby?
If I'm already prone to dizziness and nausea, why do they have to make it worse by giving me so much sugar AND drawing my blood? Good thing my drive home was less than 5 minutes.
Oh well. I got through it and Baby K bounced around like a ping-pong ball for a little while but finally settled down. If there's anything wrong, they'll call me with my results Wednesday or Thursday. If everything's okay, they'll tell me at my next appointment.
The rest of the appointment was uneventful, but good. The doctor said the following things were perfect (music to my ears!): the baby's size (as estimated by measuring my size), the heartbeat, my blood pressure and my weight gain. I also got bonus points because Baby Girl is moving a lot, which she said is a good sign of a healthy baby. Yay!
From now on, I'll have doctor visits every two weeks instead of every four (until around week 37, I think, when I'll have them weekly). This means I'm coming into the end!
I'm safely in my 3rd trimester, and the baby would have an excellent chance of survival if born now (with plenty of help). She may face complications, but many babies born around this time do just fine. Of course, we're hoping she decides to stick around for a while longer!
The diabetes test is a cruel trick on both mother and baby. Basically, after having little or no sugar for a while (in my case, overnight--I had an egg for breakfast), you drink what amounts to concentrated fruit-flavored pop, with extra sugar.
Then you wait for an hour, slightly lightheaded the whole time, and they draw blood for testing. Here's what's wrong with the picture:
If they're testing you for diabetes, does it really make sense to flood your system with lots of sugar?
If I'm supposed to be more or less limiting my sugar, is it really good for the baby?
If I'm already prone to dizziness and nausea, why do they have to make it worse by giving me so much sugar AND drawing my blood? Good thing my drive home was less than 5 minutes.
Oh well. I got through it and Baby K bounced around like a ping-pong ball for a little while but finally settled down. If there's anything wrong, they'll call me with my results Wednesday or Thursday. If everything's okay, they'll tell me at my next appointment.
The rest of the appointment was uneventful, but good. The doctor said the following things were perfect (music to my ears!): the baby's size (as estimated by measuring my size), the heartbeat, my blood pressure and my weight gain. I also got bonus points because Baby Girl is moving a lot, which she said is a good sign of a healthy baby. Yay!
From now on, I'll have doctor visits every two weeks instead of every four (until around week 37, I think, when I'll have them weekly). This means I'm coming into the end!
I'm safely in my 3rd trimester, and the baby would have an excellent chance of survival if born now (with plenty of help). She may face complications, but many babies born around this time do just fine. Of course, we're hoping she decides to stick around for a while longer!
Monday, April 14, 2008
The perfect baby outfit: fact or fiction?
While I was home in Illinois visiting my dad and sister, my sister and I got the chance to do some shopping for baby clothes. (Dad respectfully declined, especially the second evening we went out.)
We were essentially heading out on an informal search for the "perfect" baby outfit. We spent 2 evenings, almost 2 hours each, scouring 4 different stores. We examined outfit after outfit, probably covering a good 95% of each store's baby-clothes inventory. Needless to say, it was lots of fun.
In one store, I actually felt like I was pretty close to finding the "perfect" outfit for Baby Girl, until Nancy reminded me (twice, actually, before I turned away from all the cute clothes and listened) I was in the boys' section. Oops. Although I am very encouraged that if Baby Girl turns out to be Baby Boy, or I have a boy someday, there will be no lack of adorable things to dress him in.
We learned a lot along the way. For one, while there are zillions of adorable puppy outfits for boys, there are exactly zero for girls. What if a baby girl likes dogs? Or what if dog-lover likes babies? There was nothing to fill this niche. Nancy found a cute overall outfit, fortunately, that could easily be transformed into girl clothes with the addition of a pink or purple onesie. It came home with us.
We liked anything with animals (bonus points if the animals were a different texture than the clothing itself), flowers, ladybugs or strawberries. We liked pretty much everything pink, and all dresses. Lavender, yellow, orange, red and green were excellent color choices as well. We also liked anything that resembled what we would've worn as kids. Did I leave anything out? Basically, we liked it all.
I'll actually be looking forward to diaper blow-outs and spit-up incidents because then I'll have an excuse to pull some more adorable clothes out of the closet. And I think we're both considering careers in baby-clothes design.
One new trend we discovered (or maybe it's not new??) is that clothing designers seem to associate whales with baby girls. Over and over again we saw cute pink onesies and outfits and hooded towels with smiling whales on them. We hope these girls don't grow up to be either obese or anorexic. Assuming they don't, add them to the list of things we thought were adorable.
In case you're wondering, I did, actually, make a purchase. Just one, you ask? I found some cute khaki capris on sale at Kohl's, and just couldn't resist. I have no idea how I resisted everything else.
In the end, we found that there's no such thing as the perfect baby outfit (maybe that's why I resisted buying more than the capris?), but that there are still many perfect-in-themselves baby outfits. I don't think any of us were wondering this, but Baby Girl is definitely going to be cute!
We were essentially heading out on an informal search for the "perfect" baby outfit. We spent 2 evenings, almost 2 hours each, scouring 4 different stores. We examined outfit after outfit, probably covering a good 95% of each store's baby-clothes inventory. Needless to say, it was lots of fun.
In one store, I actually felt like I was pretty close to finding the "perfect" outfit for Baby Girl, until Nancy reminded me (twice, actually, before I turned away from all the cute clothes and listened) I was in the boys' section. Oops. Although I am very encouraged that if Baby Girl turns out to be Baby Boy, or I have a boy someday, there will be no lack of adorable things to dress him in.
We learned a lot along the way. For one, while there are zillions of adorable puppy outfits for boys, there are exactly zero for girls. What if a baby girl likes dogs? Or what if dog-lover likes babies? There was nothing to fill this niche. Nancy found a cute overall outfit, fortunately, that could easily be transformed into girl clothes with the addition of a pink or purple onesie. It came home with us.
We liked anything with animals (bonus points if the animals were a different texture than the clothing itself), flowers, ladybugs or strawberries. We liked pretty much everything pink, and all dresses. Lavender, yellow, orange, red and green were excellent color choices as well. We also liked anything that resembled what we would've worn as kids. Did I leave anything out? Basically, we liked it all.
I'll actually be looking forward to diaper blow-outs and spit-up incidents because then I'll have an excuse to pull some more adorable clothes out of the closet. And I think we're both considering careers in baby-clothes design.
One new trend we discovered (or maybe it's not new??) is that clothing designers seem to associate whales with baby girls. Over and over again we saw cute pink onesies and outfits and hooded towels with smiling whales on them. We hope these girls don't grow up to be either obese or anorexic. Assuming they don't, add them to the list of things we thought were adorable.
In case you're wondering, I did, actually, make a purchase. Just one, you ask? I found some cute khaki capris on sale at Kohl's, and just couldn't resist. I have no idea how I resisted everything else.
In the end, we found that there's no such thing as the perfect baby outfit (maybe that's why I resisted buying more than the capris?), but that there are still many perfect-in-themselves baby outfits. I don't think any of us were wondering this, but Baby Girl is definitely going to be cute!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
The monsoon
Saturday was an exciting day for Baby Girl and I--my baby "shower!" I say "shower" because it came on a bit like a tsunami--lots of wonderful people, lots of beautiful gifts, and lots of fun! All in the span of about 3 hours, although I got to see some of you before or after as well. Shout-out to Nancy, who planned the whole thing (with excellent help!)! Thanks!! :) It was truly amazing! I think you're well qualified to be an awesome aunt!
Here's a run-down of our adventure so far:
Catch flight. Against all odds (long story short), arrive in Illinois really close to on-time. Baby either loves or hates flying, because my stomach was moving almost the entire time we were in the air. Exhausted, she finally got to sleep in the middle of the night.
Greet Nancy, who miraculously got out of work early after an extremely busy week. Greet Dad, who amazingly made it in from Germany with only about a 30-minute layover in O'Hare. Greet Poky the dog, who incredibly managed to be cuter than ever before, fresh from the groomer. During one of my middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks, greet Angela and Tom, who astoundingly made it in despite a late flight and a donut stop.
Have lunch with Matt's mom and aunts, who ______ (running out of words!) made it to the shower despite the week-long fever suffered by Matt's mom! (She started feeling better just in time!)
Attend the shower! Eat lots of delicious food, hear wonderful advice, play fun games, chat with great people, open adorable gifts. Watch the guys file in at exactly 5:00 with deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces.
Spend time with relatives and friends for the next couple days, getting great opportunities to catch up, eat a lot, tour John Deere, watch children be rocketed into the air in a swimming pool, eat some more, etc. All have left by Monday afternoon.
Catch up with work, wrangle my pulse back to a resting rate. Enjoy some nice time with Dad and Nancy.
Baby Girl wakes up after hardly stirring for two days. Poky finally wakes up a few days later. Both were utterly exhausted.
Work, eat, hang out with Poky and the fam.
And that pretty much catches you up! Baby Girl and I are here until Friday, when we'll hopefully fly back. Matt's already assured me that the weather looks bad and we'll both likely be spending the night in random connection cities (him in Cincinnati, me in Atlanta). Personally, I think Baby's had enough adventure, so here's hoping we all make it home!
Here's a run-down of our adventure so far:
Catch flight. Against all odds (long story short), arrive in Illinois really close to on-time. Baby either loves or hates flying, because my stomach was moving almost the entire time we were in the air. Exhausted, she finally got to sleep in the middle of the night.
Greet Nancy, who miraculously got out of work early after an extremely busy week. Greet Dad, who amazingly made it in from Germany with only about a 30-minute layover in O'Hare. Greet Poky the dog, who incredibly managed to be cuter than ever before, fresh from the groomer. During one of my middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks, greet Angela and Tom, who astoundingly made it in despite a late flight and a donut stop.
Have lunch with Matt's mom and aunts, who ______ (running out of words!) made it to the shower despite the week-long fever suffered by Matt's mom! (She started feeling better just in time!)
Attend the shower! Eat lots of delicious food, hear wonderful advice, play fun games, chat with great people, open adorable gifts. Watch the guys file in at exactly 5:00 with deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces.
Spend time with relatives and friends for the next couple days, getting great opportunities to catch up, eat a lot, tour John Deere, watch children be rocketed into the air in a swimming pool, eat some more, etc. All have left by Monday afternoon.
Catch up with work, wrangle my pulse back to a resting rate. Enjoy some nice time with Dad and Nancy.
Baby Girl wakes up after hardly stirring for two days. Poky finally wakes up a few days later. Both were utterly exhausted.
Work, eat, hang out with Poky and the fam.
And that pretty much catches you up! Baby Girl and I are here until Friday, when we'll hopefully fly back. Matt's already assured me that the weather looks bad and we'll both likely be spending the night in random connection cities (him in Cincinnati, me in Atlanta). Personally, I think Baby's had enough adventure, so here's hoping we all make it home!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
My foot hurts, and other random pregnancy symptoms
Some days, pregnancy is just plain weird. It's nothing like I expected. I planned on being uncomfortable and a bit miserable--mostly stemming from an extremely large belly (which I have yet to develop). Baby movement didn't even really take me by surprise--it felt pretty much like how you'd figure. It's really the small things that made me shake my head in wonder.
About a week ago, for instance, I noticed that my left foot hurt, but just the outside part of it. It was the type of ache you get when you stub your pinky toe really hard--not the extreme pain, just the ache that makes you want to wear sensible shoes for a day or two and get your husband to just run upstairs and get your sweatshirt quick because you're cold and pregnant and trying to stay off your foot.
Matt and I both tried to figure out what I'd done to make my foot hurt. He happily blamed it on my choice of shoes (he secretly disapproves of my shoe collection because it's not full of tennis shoes and hiking boots! :) ), and busied himself with warning me every time I crossed the room not to stub my toe. I have been wearing only comfortable flat shoes for about a month now, and had no clue as to why my foot hurt.
A couple days later, I was reading a message board and found a post about other pregnant women having foot problems, some of which sounded exactly like mine. It turns out my ligaments and joints are stretching, and have caused the aforesaid foot pain. Weird, huh?
Somewhere around the end of my 1st trimester, I noticed I wasn't seeing as well as I used to. Because apparently my doctor, dentist and dermatologist appointments weren't enough, I made a mental note to see the optometrist--I hadn't been for 2 years and it's high time. Fortunately, before I completely changed my prescription I read that pregnancy can cause your eyesight to worsen. So I'll be putting off that appointment until this fall. Again, weird.
In mid-February, I got a head cold. As it cleared up, I noticed my nose was still stuffy. Still is, actually. You guessed it--pregnancy causes your nose to stuff up. Combine that with the fact that pregnancy also causes general breathlessness and you'll see why I breathe through my mouth a lot nowadays. I sometimes seem to have to make a conscious effort to get enough air.
And finally, I'd expected some morning sickness, but what I never thought about was the gag reflex that comes along with or without it. Even on days when I'm feeling just fine, bananas, meat, vegetables, fish oil capsules--just about anything other than ice-cream and baked goods, actually--can make me gag randomly. Very strange.
As a side note, I can't wait to see some of you soon for my shower! I've been packing all day. And fortunately, I've had all day: pregnancy brain makes packing in a short period of time nearly impossible. It goes something like this:
Pull something out of closet.
It reminds me of something else I need to pack.
Head downstairs to retrieve the item.
Forget why I'm down here.
Remember something I need to do upstairs before I leave.
Head upstairs to do just that.
Forget why I'm up here.
Remember something else I need downstairs.
Once downstairs, remember something else I need downstairs.
Grab second item.
Forget first item.
Head upstairs.
Remember first item.
Give up for the time being and pack second item.
You get the picture.
So if I show up to the shower on Saturday wearing only 1 shoe and with dirty hair, you'll know why! Hopefully we'll have a good time anyway! :)
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