Category / pregnancy

by Bethe

Baby kicks and baby bumps and a nesting confessional

1. Thanks to everyone who prayed for Mr. Right as he preached at that youth retreat last weekend. It went GREAT! Some of my very proudest moments are when I sit in the audience and get to watch him preach Jesus from the pulpit. It’s like all those years of praying for a godly man were answered in a way much better than I had ever hoped, and those moments I’m reminded that God hears my prayers and in his perfect timing (in this case, 7 years after I started praying this fervant prayer), he responds.

I should also mention that Mr. Right looked super cute while up there preaching. Not that it matters, but he did.

2. I felt Baby Right kick for the first time on Sunday! I felt some tiny punches to my lower left belly as I watched a movie – more than the flutter I’d been waiting for – more like a flick. Ever since I’ve been feeling more and more – it’s so exciting to feel that little life in that growing belly of mine.

3. Speaking of bellies – here’s some belly pictures.

16 Weeks

17.5 Weeks

18 Weeks

4. Speaking of bellies and babies – I finally hit that second trimester sweet spot, where I want to do things besides lay on the couch and watch TV. I spent my free time this weekend quilting and writing on my book and organizing my house. I now know why women nest during pregnancy – it’s because during that first trimester they’re so sick that they let EVERYTHING go (and I mean EVERYTHING), and by the time they start feeling better, their house is so out of sorts that they absolutely HAVE to nest or they’ll lose their mind. At least, that’s what I hear other people do. Not me. My house hasn’t become a disorganized mess. No way. Uh uh. (nods head “no”).

Let’s be real y’all – the more visible areas of our house have been somewhat clean thanks to our cleaning lady, whom we paid for when we got rid of our cable (greatest decision EVER in the history of the world). But the only way I’ve been able to “clean up” for the cleaning lady is by throwing things in every cabinet, drawer, closet or pantry I could get my hands on, which means if you opened a single door in my house, you were liable to have something fall on your head. At least, in all areas except for Mr. Right’s, since he is one of those rare guys who actually picks up after himself and stays organized (thank goodness there’s one of us in this relationship). So, this weekend I cleaned out, threw out, and organized my way back to a little bit of sanity in our home. And it feels amazing. And I hope it lasts for at least a week or two.

5. And finally – I want to leave you with this picture of Mr. Right and our nephew Luke from dinner last night. Does this not make your heart melt? I’m not sure what I’m going to do when he’s holding our own baby – probably cry a lot. You know, the good kind of tears.

by Bethe

Look who’s back

People have promised me all along that one day a switch would flip and I’d miraculously feel better.

That didn’t happen for me. You know I’ve had a bit of a rough go at this (everybody knows – I admit I’ve been a bit whiney). But little by little, over the past two weeks, I have started to feel better and better. Don’t get me wrong, there have been some rough moments (like my date last Friday with Mr. Right where I got sick at the restaurant and couldn’t eat any of my food and had to go home and go to bed – talk about a romantic evenening killer), but overall, I feel like a new person.

My head is clear. I’m getting hungrier. I’m staying up later (hello 9:30 – I haven’t seen you in awhile). I’m skipping doses of my nausea meds. I went to ESL.  I cooked dinner last night for the first time this pregnancy. I ate chocolate pie for dessert. And I didn’t regret it afterward.

I will not be running any marathons. I will still firecely guard my schedule. I will refrain from committing to anything big. But I can’t wait to go on a walk with my husband. To sit at my sewing machine. To organize my closet (oh my word, if you could see my closet you would not be my friend). To begin my day without fretting about how I will possibly make it through.

I’m back, my friends.

by Bethe

Bump Diaries: Maternity pants, where have you been all my life?

Being pregnant is kind of like becoming a living science experiment on display for everybody else to enjoy. The other day a 60-year-old woman, who is typically pretty conservative, told me, “Oh my goodness, your boobies are HUGE!”

Yes ma’am, I agree – they’re one step away from getting their own zip code.

(10 Weeks)

And I get it. I’m in on the joke. It is really strange to watch your body expand and change shape by the day. Or the hour, depending on if I had Mexican food for lunch. I’m kind of intrigued about just how big I’m going to get. And how I’m going to keep from toppling over.

(13 Weeks)

But there are still those weird expectations I place on myself. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Like, most of what I read said a first-time mom won’t show until around 16 weeks. And so, for some reason, that number has been in my head as the ideal time to start a bump. Unfortunately, my body decided to start growing a bump around 10 weeks. So I got six weeks of “Wow, you’re showing EARLY!”

And now I’ve magically hit the 16 week mark and I feel like I can finally be proud of this round belly of mine.

(14 Weeks)

We girls and our arbitrary rules. For this reason, I’ve avoided buying maternity pants, instead surviving off a belly band (man, those things are wonderful), and each week my pants zip a little less.

Last week Mr. Right brought me home some maternity capri pants that are work appropriate, and I decided to give them a try on a warm January day. IT WAS LIFE CHANGING. Like, the greatest thing ever. So great, in fact, that I wore those capri pants when it turned bone-chillingly cold. It didn’t matter – you couldn’t rip those maternity capris off my cold, dead body.

(15 Weeks)

And so this weekend I finally broke down and went to the pregnant lady store (which is SO unfashionable – but that’s another post), and bought two pairs of maternity skinny jeans and one pair of dress pants. And I am in heaven. I haven’t been this comfortable in 10 years.

(16 Weeks)

I have a waistband that rises all the way to my arm pits, and I’m okay with it.

 

 

by Bethe

Guest post – help me plan my nursery

I know I promised more on the gender reveal. And I have really great intentions, but to be honest I’ve spent most of this week watching TV and going to bed early. The good news is that I feel SO MUCH BETTER. In fact, I haven’t had a Zofran in 20 hours, and I’m still functioning.

This is huge.

So while I celebrate being drug-free today (minus my one full-octane coke of the day, which is my new substitute for coffee), please go over to this blog and see my guest post about creating a nursery. My blog friends were so helpful in the glider vs. stuffed rocker question (someone is giving us a glider – hooray!), and the bed vs. no bed in the nursery debate (it was unanimous – we’re going with no bed). It would absolutely make my day if you would leave any other sage, mom advice over on that blog today so that other women (and I) can enter this nursery-creating phase armed with good information.

Because, let’s face it. I am as clueless as they come.

And don’t worry – more on the gender reveal coming soon. Probably. Unless I get sucked into another Law & Order marathon, and then all bets are off.

by Bethe

It’s a…

I promised a post on Sunday but couldn’t wait to update my blog friends, so I’m doing a quick picture-less, graphic-less post from my iPad.

IT’S A GIRL!!!!

Pictures coming tomorrow. After all the excitement of our gender reveal party, I’m in bed at 8:30 and crashing hard.

I’m still in shock. A girl! We are going to have so much fun. And Mr. Right is going to be such a great dad to a little girl, don’t you think?

So blessed. My heart is full.

by Bethe

Last chance – what do you think this baby is?

Last night we went in for our 15-week sonogram, and being a little people-pleaser like his/her mama (or exhibitionist, in which case, we’re all in trouble) Baby Right went full spread eagle the moment the sonogram started. Way to go babe – apparently the tech got an up close and personal view. Way to cooperate for mama.

Now comes the hard part – waiting for the big reveal, which will happen Saturday night with both of our families and some of our close friends. It was killer to go to bed with that sealed envelope just BEGGING me to take a peak. But I’m the world’s WORST liar, so the last thing I could do was cheat and then pull it off – everybody would totally know. And so I’m in the dark, just like everybody else.

So in the meantime, I thought it would be fun to make predictions – what do YOU think Baby Right is? Here’s what others are saying:

Both of our moms, my father-in-law, and Mr. Right are convinced it’s a boy.

My sister and my dad are convinced it’s a girl.

And until this week, I was totally convinced it’s a girl. Between the nausea and the daily pimples, I’ve just known. Or, maybe it’s a symptom of me being too tired to wash my face properly before bed.

But for some reason, this week I haven’t been as sure. I only crave salty/savory foods right now (I can’t STAND anything sweet), and I’m carrying the baby low and in front, which tends to point toward boy. Then again, I haven’t had a good meal in almost four months, which could  account for the fact that I’m not carrying “baby girl weight” anywhere else. As soon as this nausea clears, all of that may change.

So there we go. I really have no idea. I’m going to be in love with whatever it turns out to be – whether it means a lifetime of hairbows and hairbraiding, or superheroes and football (Lord, I don’t think I can handle a lifetime of football).

PS–I dreamed I was feeding my baby last night – and it was a girl…

Leave your predictions below. I’ll let you know Sunday what we find out.

by Bethe

Every pity party has to have an end time

In our house, we say that pity parties are okay, as long as there’s an end time, and mine has come. My particular party has gone on way too long – it’s past curfew, my makeup is smudged, my hair is limp, my cute outfit is all wrinkled, and it’s just time to call it a night.

So I joyfully declare that this first trimester nausea nastiness and personal-and-professional-life-impeding fatigue of a pity party is OVER.

It doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel sick. I’ve just decided that it has to be okay. It has to be okay that my schedule is heavily modified for the time being – it has to be okay that I go to bed early, that I’m sticking close to home, and that some days I just don’t like food.  Because the last thing I want to do is look back on this pregnancy and remember nothing but misery.

I’ve decided to give myself a break. And I hope everybody else will too. I promise that someday I will see you all again, looking perky with a baby on my hip (if you’re lucky I may have even washed my hair), and we will all forget about the mess I was for a few months in 2012-2013. In the meantime, I’m determined to find the fun in all this. After all, having a baby is an adventure – I’m just going to need some motion sickness bands on mine.

Okay, glad we got that out of the way. Time to start planning a new, more fun party. Like, my Gender Reveal Party on Saturday! Any guesses? I’ll tell you in the next blog what I think it is.

by Bethe

Calling all moms – I need some advice

I have a secret.

Like, no idea whatsoever. Thank goodness for Google.

Speaking of Google stories, last night I was telling Mr. Right some things I had learned from friends about breast feeding, and I mentioned mastitis. And that’s when he said, “I know all about that.”

(me): “What?” 

(Mr. Right): “Yeah, Cows get that.”

Oh yeah, I forget, I married a man from the country. Who used to show animals at the stock show. It turns out everything Mr. Right knows about pregnancy and having babies, he learned from cows.

I’m either in very good hands… or I’m in trouble. Time will tell.

But back to babies and how little I know. We’ve started to talk about the nursery, and as we look at various products, I need to know:

1. We need a rocker/glider. What did you use? Did you like the wooden kind with a big/comfy cushion…

or the plush lazy-boy-like chair?

I thought I wanted the plush chair, but now I’m wondering if I would want the rocker with a cushion to offer head/neck support as I feed in the middle of the night. Please tell me what you think.

And, if you have one you loved, where did you get it? We don’t want to break the bank, but I want to invest in something comfortable, since I figure I’ll be spending some late nights rocking Baby Right in it.

One more question – some folks have suggested putting a twin bed in the nursery. Moms, did you do that, or did you wish you had?

Discuss amongst yourselves… in the comments section. I’m all ears.

 

by Bethe

Be joyful in hope

About a week ago, during one of my many hormone-induced tearful meltdowns, Mr. Right kept asking me what was wrong, what I was upset about, and I couldn’t even verbalize it.

In our house, we call that fracturing from reality.

Does that mean I’ve officially punched my ticket to the crazy train? When you’re sobbing and you can’t even explain why you’re upset? How do you give words to that crazy cocktail of fear and nausea and exhaustion and frustration with not feeling like yourself for ten weeks in a row. And I think there may have been a discussion about childcare in there somewhere (which I can’t think about right now – it’s too hard).

And then, as Mr. Right did his best to talk me off of my cliff and bring me back to reality, he did that thing that drives me crazy in the moment (pitfalls of marrying a minister) but really gets me thinking later. My husband is incredibly wise.

He asked me to tell him one thing God has been teaching me through all this.

Which is totally the right question – how has He redeemed the past ten weeks of nausea and complications and sitting on my couch watching 13 seasons of Law & Order SVU while sipping on red Gatorade?

What made it worse was that I had no good answer. I don’t know. I can’t see it yet. After being so sick as a newlywed, I was able to look back and see so many things God taught me. But right now? Right now I just can’t see past right now.

It may take awhile to be able to answer that question. But in the meantime, I will choose to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.  And Baby Right, as tough as this is, you’re worth it.

Scripture print available here

by Bethe

Confessions of a first trimester

Oh friends. Where do I begin? My brain no longer works, my body is overcome with exhaustion, and just when I have 2-3 good “almost” nausea-free days (while still on the Zofran, mind you), the nausea comes back and punches me in the face and I find myself lying on the floor of my office, trying to regain the will to go vertical so I can finish out my day with some semblance of professionalism.

You could say I am crawling to this first trimester finish line. And I’m a bit scared that my body missed the your-second-trimester-starts-on-Saturday-and-you’re-supposed-to-start-feeling-awesome memo.

I spent my anniversary too sick to go out for a simple, quickie dinner date with my man to a local restaurant. Not even a fancy night out, which we knew was asking too much (although it’s still in the plans for when I feel awesome again – that’s going to happen someday, right?). Instead we celebrated our anniversary with me in saggy yoga pants, eating take-out on china by candlelight and then me going to bed alone around 9:30, barely able to hold my head up from exhaustion.

Is this what a pity party looks like?

It seems so selfish of me – I am so very relieved to no longer be dealing with the pregnancy complications I had up until week 12. The stress of bleeding every few days and never knowing if that was going to be the time that I lost my baby. Heck, if I think back real hard (which is tough, because this baby has used all of my brain cells for sustenance and there are very few left for me), I remember the many months of disappointment as we tried to get pregnant and it didn’t happen. The longing I felt while sitting through baby dedication at church.

So don’t get me wrong. I am filled with joy. I am grateful. As I look down at my tiny baby bump (which seems kind of soon to be showing, but I definitely am and will take pictures as soon as I have a day where I feel halfway cute when I get home), I finally feel like there’s outward evidence of all of the crazy things going on inside my body. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real that there’s a tiny life in there, since I can’t feel him/her yet. But then I saw baby’s heartbeat after a big scare (and cried), and saw baby kicking on the ultrasound two weeks ago (and cried), and I’m reminded that there’s a precious little life inside. It’s worth it. I still choose this.

Plus, in happier news, pregnancy has done wonders for my hair. I am one step below hair model status– even on rainy days it just does what I want it to do.

The other upside is that I usually run a pretty high-stress life. I go non-stop, commit to too much, and rest too little. That has easily been fixed these past eight weeks as I’ve quickly become a hermit. I’ve been to church once since Thanksgiving. Once. I’ve been to Target once, and the grocery store once. I haven’t hung out with friends. I’ve seen nobody except for coworkers and family. I no longer feel pressure to be Martha Stewart – to make crafts or cook amazing dinners or have the perfect house. I don’t even wash my hair every day. I feel free.

I did clean out my bathroom cabinet on one good day. And I did a few loads of laundry, although poor Mr. Right had to put it all away (and has done the rest of the laundry). I married a very good man. And in true transparency – today is January 9 and my Christmas tree is still up. I hope to have it down before the baby arrives. In July.

It’s okay to admit that I’m not one of those perky pregnant girls who rocks this whole pregnancy thing. Right now I’m a hot mess with pockets filled with preggie pops and nausea wristbands that have replaced my bracelets and an unnatural addiction to chips and salsa (the only food I really love). I hope this will prove to be a freeing experience for me – I no longer care what other people think about me, because frankly I don’t have the energy. And that’s a great way to live.

Simply by getting up every day, I prove that I am tough.

Week 13 starts on Saturday, and I hope to emerge from my cocoon soon, ready to see friends again. Ready to shop in real stores again (did you know you can buy toilet paper on Amazon?!). I’ll even wash my hair. Probably.