We got one!

And she's comin' home!!

My water broke at home, right after writing that last post. So "Eviction Day" ended up being our second day at home from the hospital. Wyatt's sister Eloise is alive and well. Yippeee!

It likes to move it, move it...

Baby kicks are ridiculously weird and incredible awesome. Wyatt wasn’t a big kicker, but I guess that’s because his placenta was in the front. Instead of kicking, elbowing, and otherwise prodding me, he was railing on the placenta I guess. Suck it placenta! This little one, however, has been making its presence known for the past several weeks—maybe a month. I love it. It is magical. It is like an alien is in there pushing against my skin “toward the light”. It is like a muscle spasm is just about to happen, you know that tightening feeling, but instead it is a baby saying hi. It is like a sign that things are working! Because Wyatt couldn’t get through to me that much, I really appreciate this one that much more. I mean, I know pregnant ladies ooh and ahh about how crazy-cool it is to feel their baby moving…but really, this is awesome. I get to be special in this case. It’s more awesomer for me bitches!

There’s not much I can do with this baby movement except appreciate it. In a while, when the baby is “viable” and they could actually do something to save it if it was born early or had problems, I am supposed to start taking note of what “normal” movement is. Oh, the pressures we put our children under—in the womb and already being judged about normalcy. Ridiculous. 

Starvation Nation

I really can’t believe there isn’t already a post about Starvation Nation, population: me. I recall last time being hungry all the time starting around 3 months and then on and off for the duration. I remember telling someone right before we moved to Colorado that my biggest complaint was insatiable hunger; I must have been just about halfway through the pregnancy and wondering if I would have to get a second job just to feed myself. I would eat a big breakfast and literally be starving one hour later with no warning at all. I know I am not alone in this, but it sure surprised me! Of course I know it takes however-many extra calories to make a baby, but I had no idea how much extra food that meant and nobody told me my body would not deign to leave my brain in charge of finding those calories—it would do it for me, with a roar.

This time is turning out no differently. I just had my three month check-up and promptly noticed the fridge seems to be emptying out quicker than usual. The cupboards, normally stocked, are suddenly turning up bare. The people at Safeway somehow know me by name when I walk in the door. Hubby is complaining about having to go to Costco more often than usual. And, yes, also my stomach is grumbling at all hours of the day and night, particularly after my middle-of-the-night tinkle when I have to debate if getting back up to eat something is better than trying just to fall back asleep and stay cozy. It’s kind of fun and science-experimenty to be on this kind of feeding schedule, and I have to say I welcome signs that this baby is doing okay, but it really is a crazy amount of feeding going on in here. 

Dreams: Part 2

Sadly, I find it harder to recall the sexy dreams than the weird baby ones. I’m not saying these are going to come across as Letters to Penthouse V(which, by the way, we “won” in a Yankee Swap this winter) or anything, but I wake up from these dreams feeling that good things would have happened if only I could have slept a little longer, and that makes me happy. The dreams get to the point where flirting and happiness turn into the knowledge that better things are coming, like in college when you finally make a move to walk back to one of your dorm rooms together,…and then I wake up. I was always a little immature I suppose, so it only makes sense that I only “get” this far.

Let’s see: the other night I was in somewhere like a mall, coming up an escalator. Across the room was someone from high school who I sort of had a crush on but never dated or anything. Mostly we did school projects together and just when the flirting got going I went away to boarding school. In this dream I think he had a ski helmet on, and I was excited to walk over and talk to him. I got some butterflies thinking about it. But then he was gone and one of my college boyfriends was there, behind a table, like an information booth-table at a job fair or something, and he had a cowboy hat on and was giving just this big smile that he always had. This big smile made my heart fill up. Sigh. Maybe we waved to each other? I’m not sure, because I walked around the corner and kept going up the next escalator. Something else must have happened, because I woke up with a sly smile of the memories and feeling a little guilty that Hubby doesn’t usually show up in dreams….but I can’t remember the rest. Nuts.

Another one: there was definitely someone famous. Oh, I know, it was Andy Samberg. This one is interesting because I don’t find him attractive. He’s funny, and witty, and I bet he’s smart, and I love SNL Digital Shorts, but he’s kind of short and doofy and I’ve never taken a cheesy magazine off the rack in the grocery store to check out a story about him, if you know what I mean. So, I was on SNL: I used to babysit for the anchor of NBC Nightly News (true), and he thought I was hilarious (false), so he hooked me up with someone on SNL who gave me a cameo on the show with Gwyneth and Cee-Lo which recently aired. And I brought down the house! So at the after party everyone was all over me because I was so awesome. Andy Samberg came up behind me and put his arm around me, like around my shoulders sort of, in a backwards hug that was just friendly and flirty, but then after praising my performance he said some things that were not just friendly and flirty. For some reason we were in a corner of the room that was more like a dressing room, and he made eye contact with me in the mirror and was trying to make me blush. Eek! Again, we didn’t sneak away to get naked or anything, but I woke up with my body feeling like maybe that’s where we were headed…if I wasn’t actually just going down the hall to go the bathroom in my jammies in Colorado. Dang!

Boob Takeover

I am feeling conflicted about writing this, but I think it’s time to share it. Part of the confliction, I think, is that I don’t feel right making fun of my situation. It doesn’t really feel good to laugh about any of it, even if it is amazing, ridiculous, or anything else good. I mean, I had a baby. I made it through childbirth. Hubby and I have survived, even came out better than before, those are good things. But I don’t have a baby for it, and I really don’t know what went wrong, so I don’t find the success and fun in them I should.

However, some things just can’t be contained.

Like my boobs.

My boobs got enormous. Huge. The doctor warned me, as I was sitting in the hospital bed, holding Wyatt and wondering what to do next. “The milk will come in. It’s kind of cruel, but it’s nature,” she said. “Wear a tight sports bra, the tightest one you have, don’t stimulate the nipples-I mean, don’t even let the water in the shower hit them-and it will go away in a few days.” I still wasn’t prepared. I mean, I was focusing on some other things, but still, I know she warned me and I just wasn’t ready. They literally blew up. Spilling-out-the-sides-and-top-of-my-full-coverage-sports-bra-blew up. I still can’t get over it. They looked like Heidi Montag-Pratt-whatever’s from The Hills after her full body makeover, and she paid for those. I’m talking cantaloupes, round and pert and firm just like ‘em. I know I can’t do it justice, just writing about it—even telling someone about it in person with props and hand motions will never do them justice. Now Hubby is the only one who can attest what is possible in my chest department. But I have proof that I can make milk for a baby…and that my skin is verrrrry stretchy. So at least that’s good.