Monday, March 21, 2011


My husband has decided that he's ready to skip to the end of this pregnancy. Well, I am too, but we have several weeks left as well as 12 weeks of Fridays down the drain at Bradley Classes (important, but we realized we have 5 more dance classes which are offered only on Fridays). Anyway, as much as he's done with me being pregnant, I'm, by far, more ready to pop this kid out than he is. Seriously, I'm having a hard time putting on my shoes. Not cool.

Okay, you may wonder because every pregnant woman reaches the point when they're done, what does this have to do with this post since I've already posted about how we're both done with me being pregnant? Well, I had a weird moment this morning: I forgot that I was pregnant. Yep, you read that right.

I was driving to work and started driving like non-pregnant me (read fast and having fun with the turns). It was so fun to drive like it was just me in the car, no Wombat sitting in my uterus making me drive the speed limit. Granted, it's not like I was driving 65 in a 35 because I just don't drive like that, but it was fun to feel like my body was my own again. No watching every step I take. No constantly driving the speed limit. No worrying about every little thing I do.

Then reality: I'm pregnant. I do have to watch my steps so as I don't trip. Speeding and having fun driving to work. I do have to worry about everything I eat, drink, wear, what I clean the bathroom with, make sure to walk every hour, back to watching everything because it effects Wombat.

Yes, I know this is part of pregnancy. It's just hard because I want my body back. I want my freedom.

Have you ever had a lapse where you forget something it seems like you just shouldn't be able to forget about?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Week 21ish Check-Up

Wombat, my husband, and I all went to the regular doctor Friday. Wombat was scanned, photographed, and recorded on video. We never had a video of Moose, so it was really cool that we received a DVD after the ultrasound tech was done. It also marked the first time that Wombat didn't want to move into the perfect positions; I actually had to lay on my side at one point.

As far as the actual appointment, everything went well. Wombat's heart rate was 150 beats per minute, so that looks like a boy according to that Old Wives' Tale. However, the Chinese gender chart shows a girl, so who knows. I'm still unsure, but I did have a little dream while watching the Paris-Nice cycling race the other day. (Yes, my husband and I love cycling. No football in this house.)

In this dream, I heard Bob Roll talk about our son being in the Tour de France. It was so totally awesome. I mean, our kids don't have to actually be bike riders, but having a dream about our son being in the Tour was pretty freaking awesome. And hearing Bob Roll talk to Phil Liggett about our son was, well, awesome.

But I still have no idea what gender our baby is. My husband thinks we're having a girl, my sister thinks we're having a girl, his family thinks we're having a girl, and I'm completely unsure. Isn't the mother supposed to have some kind of feeling?

So to sum it up: everything looks good, but I still have no idea the gender of our baby unlike everyone else. I'm also getting weaker and wanting to find out Wombat's gender. Help me stay Team Green.

That's a Good Sign

Recently I've noticed how many people tell me "_____ is a good sign."
Here's an example:
Me: Wombat keeps kicking me in the bladder.
Person: Well, that's a good sign.

How is that a good sign? I mean babies move in the womb; they kick and punch things. It's obvious that a lot of babies will kick their mom in the bladder; however, I've never read anything which states that kicking the bladder is a good sign.

It goes with being sick during the first trimester too. That's a good sign too. Surprising because I was very sick with Moose. Every day. Multiple times a day. During the whole pregnancy. People told me that was a good sign too, but it wasn't.

Let's just face it. This saying should be thrown to the side along with all the other crazy things pregnant women hear. In case you need a list, here are a couple ideas at what not to say:

1. You look like you're about to pop. When are you due?
2. Are you having twins? You're huge.
3. ____ is a good sign.
4. Aren't you worried about ______?

There's more, feel free to add them in the comments.

On a side note, I was informed by my lovely husband this morning that I'll have more gas since I'm in month 5. My response: "I'm so glad I have an office to myself." I'm already feeling like a giant, stinky, gas bubble and I don't know if I can take more.

Monday, March 7, 2011


Just want to say sorry I haven't posted much lately. I've been having a mini freak out about my pregnancy. No, I don't think it's over, but I'll try to write more about it.

Mothers who Miscarry/Deliver a Stillborn Baby Get the Death Penatly

Yeah, that's the law being proposed in Georgia. Reading about it made my heart beat, my blood boil, and brought me to tears. I'm sure there's lots out there to read, but honestly, I can't read anymore. The things I read were enough. If you'd like to read more, just type it into Google and find a site you find reputable.

As a mother who lost her baby for unknown reasons, I'm just astounded that anyone would dare to propose this, especially someone who is an elected official in America. The way the bill is written, it means that any woman who suffers a pregnancy loss must prove that she had nothing to do with her baby's death.

Yes, it's meant to overturn Roe v. Wade, but I'm not talking about abortion. I'm talking about mothers who wanted their being tried as criminals due to nature. No, it doesn't sound logical, but that doesn't matter. It matters that someone wants it enacted. Can you wrap your head around that? I mean, really put that in your head and process it.

Yeah, if this passes, it means that, in addition to the pain of never going home with her baby, a woman must somehow prove she did nothing to harm her baby. With all the "you can have this, but not that. Oh wait a minute, this week, you can have that, but not this," out there, it seems the chance of a pregnant woman accidentally doing something which may be seen as harmful very easy. Did she take a small swallow of coffee after she found out? Death! Did she not read the label close enough on that unpasteurized cheese? Death! Did she forget her prenatals that one day because she couldn't stop throwing up? Death!

Yeah, maybe I'm taking it a little far, but I'm hurt and protective. Don't attack my Angel Moms! We are bound together in a realm of sisterhood. Plus, how could I ever prove I did nothing to harm my baby when no cause was ever found? Does that automatically mean this man wants me tried for murder? Doesn't he know that I already have a life sentence? There's no worse punishment than that.