just a quick update

• I had my gestational diabetes screening yesterday. Upon walking in, I was immediately given a drink that tasted like super-sweet flat Sprite and made to chug it as quickly as possible in front of the staff person. Which was weird. And gross. Then I was supposed to wait an hour and have my blood drawn, but the staff forgot about me and probably would have just left me there, thus ruining the whole test, had Tim not walked into the testing area and demanded they see me. As is, they drew my blood 15 minutes late, so I'm hoping the results are still accurate. If the results are at all fishy, I have to go back and do a 3 hour screening. I do not want to do that.
• Green Bean weighs 2 1/2 lbs now! The fact that she will eventually weigh 7-8 lbs scares me a little.
  
• Tim insists on giving me back massages every day. It's heavenly. I'm starting to feel those aches and pains that third trimester ladies complain about.
• I'm supposed to start feeling mild Braxton-Hicks contractions soon. More discomfort to look forward to!
• We are slowly but steadily acquiring and receiving (mostly receiving, thanks to generous grandparents!) a collection of baby stuff. I'm definitely in nesting mode. Today I made a spreadsheet of stuff we need vs. stuff we have, quantities included--can you say "nerd"? We still have plenty of time, but it feels good to be getting preparations underway.
• Green Bean has the hiccups right now. It's adorable and freaky.
• I have red hair and blue eyes, my mom has brown hair and blue eyes, and my dad has red hair and blue eyes. Tim has brown hair and brown eyes, his mom has brown hair and brown eyes, and his dad has brown hair and blue eyes (his brother also blue eyes). Any guesses as to what Green Bean's hair and eye color will be? I think auburn hair and brown eyes.
• We've both been dreaming about our daughter a lot. We're getting anxious to meet her.
  

26 weeks

And not so much enjoying these pictures (or looking in the mirror) at this point. But at least it's nice to see Green Bean's progress!

(not) working 9 to 5

I've always felt very lucky that Tim and I have such extraordinarily wonderful jobs, but now that we're becoming parents, I am doubly grateful. What more could working parents want than to have jobs that allow them to set their own hours, work at home much of the time, and work with each other--and that are fun and interesting and fulfilling to boot? It's an ideal arrangement: Often we'll both work at home while on baby duty, most of the time I'll work at home and and he'll go to the office, sometimes I'll go to the office and he'll stay home with Green Bean. Did I mention that we can walk to our office? I mean, really: so lucky.

I'm also stoked that our job situation will allow us to co-parent much of the time. I'm the one with boobs, of course, and the stronger nurturing instinct, so I'll be doing more of the baby work than Tim--which works out, because I'm also the one with the part-time job--but Tim wants to share as much of the load as possible. He'll be changing diapers and getting up at night and giving the baby bottles (I'm really hoping pumping works out!) and going to doctor's appointments right along with me and I know all that wouldn't be possible if he were away for 10 hours a day.

Don't get me wrong--our life isn't perfect. Sometimes we worry about what it will be like to raise a child in the city, in an apartment, without a yard--a childhood so different from our own. But then we remember the reason we're here and we realize it's so worth it. To be really truly happy in our career and to both be able to be there to raise Green Bean every step of the way--that's a big deal. Maybe one day we'll move and be able to give her a swingset, but if and until then, hopefully she'll be satisfied with having happy, present parents. (Actually, no, she'll probably just want the swingset. Too bad, Green Bean. There's a perfectly good park right down the street. Some kids have no shoes and have to walk to school uphill both ways! <---practicing my mom-ness)

In other news, my gestational diabetes screening is next week and I've been having a couple symptoms that are worrying me a bit--feeling very tired after eating sugar and being thirstier than usual, which, granted, could totally be just normal pregnancy symptoms, but duh I'm a worrier--so think good thoughts for me if you're so inclined.

BTW, are you The Office fans following Jim and Pam's baby blog? How cute is little Cecilia Halpert?

free to be you & me

My friend Beth emailed me this song recently. I love it--and the fact that it made her think of me and Tim.


Before I got pregnant, I didn't visualize myself as a mother much beyond the general desire to be a good one, a capable one, one who could provide my child with the necessary tools for living a happy and productive life. I pictured holding my baby, pushing her on the swings, walking her to school, wiping Oreo residue off her face, fumbling over answers to her whys about the world, but I didn't imagine myself doing those things, exactly; just the way it would feel to do them. I was the observer, the narrator, in those daydreams. I didn't exist as a dimensional person.

In my first few months of pregnancy, that changed. I began to think about the role of motherhood and how I fit into it. I didn't have any illusions of transforming myself into June Cleaver or anything, but I wondered if my personality, my identity, was conducive to motherhood--or, more accurately, society's image of motherhood. Mothers, according to the media and mainstream culture, cut their hair sensibly short, drive minivans, have complicated relationships with their cleaning products (anybody else find those Swiffer commercials creepy?), talk to only other moms and only about designated mom topics, refer to themselves in third person as Mommy in all company, and lose their sense of humor save for jokes about diapers and spit-up. They aren't feminist atheist liberal vegetarian poets with nose rings who use the word douchebag and never clean their ovens. (Note to self: clean your oven.)

I recently briefly met this really perfect pregnant lady. She was beautiful, petite, stylish, glowing, professional, poised, wealthy, and married to a similarly perfect man. I was frumpy, ogre-like, oily, awkward, and stumbling over my two-inch heels, and married to a wonderful man who I had to convince to wear shoes that day (love you babe). I pictured her forthcoming child in immaculately pressed brand-name fashions, in his or her professionally-decorated designer nursery, being cooed over by two parents as glossy and flawless as a Banana Republic ad. I pictured Green Bean in her simple little nursery, in our two-bedroom apartment, in a cute, stained jumper, with me in sweatpants singing her showtunes and Daddy crawling around on the floor to make her laugh, the pipes making that squeaky sound in the bathroom, the oven still uncleaned. And I realized that I don't care about the artificial expectations, the conventions, the societal pressure: I wouldn't trade lives with her in a million years.

I know that motherhood will change me--at least, I know it in an abstract way, though I can't yet know it through experience. I know it will likely stretch me beyond my wildest imagination. That's necessary and good. But I can still be me. I don't want to lose my personality, to morph into some sort of Stepford creature, to lose what's authentic in favor of what's appropriate--whatever that means. My baby may face the challenges of being raised by two weirdos, but they'll be two weirdos with integrity who love her beyond her comprehension. And when the other kids ask her why she's not saved, why she doesn't eat meat, why she has so many weird books in her house, why her dad listens to feminist folk rock, hopefully she'll have the self-esteem to simply smile proudly and call them douchebags. Kidding! (Yeah, I should probably cut down on using that word before she gets here.)

mmm...pizza

Well, I had hoped to have an ultrasound picture to share from our appointment today, but our doctor informed us that ultrasounds get very blurry from here on out and that he won't even be performing them at every visit anymore. We did get one today, but it was hard to make out anything but a rough outline of the baby's massive head. We did get to hear the heartbeat, sort of--it just sounded like static to us and we were both really worried for a second that he couldn't find it, but then he announced that it sounded perfect, so apparently we just didn't know what we were listening to.

The good news is that Green Bean and I are both healthy. In a few weeks I'll be tested for gestational diabetes--a normal required screening. I'm a little nervous about that, as it's the most common pregnancy disorder, but no use worrying about it yet, and even if it does happen, it's not the end of the world.

Green Bean is really partying in my uterus these days. She's taken up the habit of punching my bladder, which is not pleasant, but not as bad as I would have thought. Sometimes it feels like she's doing pilates in there. Tim is disappointed that he hasn't been able to feel her kicks from the outside yet--she seems to get shy whenever he puts his hand on my belly. Maybe she just doesn't want to hurt you, babe!

I seem to have two modes at this phase of pregnancy: hunger and fatigue. I'm either fantasizing about pizza or desperate for a nap. Basically I am a grizzly bear. Pregnancy really does make you feel animalistic--this physical phenomenon that's bigger than you has taken over your body and you're just along for the ride. I'm very thankful to be able to eat and sleep again, though. They call the second trimester the "honeymoon trimester" and I don't know about that--more like "the less torturous trimester"--but it's a good stage.

Every time I see a baby now I look at it the way a 12-year-old girl looks at Zac Efron, like it's an untouchable rock star too perfect to be real. They're just so soft and little and delicate and I can't believe I get to have my own in only four months and I won't even have to give it back! Amazing. I hope I am worthy of the privilege.