Sling-a-Ling

I decided, since well before becoming pregnant, that whenever I had children, I’d be one of those “babywearers.” I’d carry the child on my belly, my back, my shoulder, my hip because it was good for them. Period. So I finally took the time this past month to make myself a sling.

I, honestly, wasn’t a huge fan of this fabric when Eric first found it. I agreed to buy it because I thought he wanted a sling out of it for himself. Of course, he scoffed at the suggestion when we got home, “That’s a mom thing.” My attempts to show him grand pictures of manly daddy-men wearing them were met with, “He looks like an idiot,” and “I don’t want to look that stupid.” So I used it to make one for myself.

Please ignore ridiculous faces - blame them on my husband’s insistant calls of, “Now, VOGUE!” And, since I obviously do not have a child, I used my Cabbage Patch doll - I swear I don’t carry her around like that all day…Seriously. Stop staring at me like that.

I enjoyed making this sling immensely. It was a little bit of a challenge but didn’t kill me. Luckily, I’m fortunate enough to have a great group of mommies that are purchasing some from me. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to do something I love for friends, and hopefully for a living someday soon. You know, if I ever have any time after this kid is born.

The Size of Things

Everyday I notice one post or another about another pregnant lady being completely unhappy about their body size. Phrases like, “I cried because my jeans don’t fit,” or “I’m up a size, I don’t think I’ll ever lose this weight.” I try my hardest to understand what they’re feeling, but it’s hard to relate. I’ve had weight fluctuations my whole life, and I knew that with pregnancy would come weight gain. I would get fat(ter) and my belly would probably stick out beyond my boobs. As much as I hated the thought, I reconciled it with myself very early on.

That begrudging reconciliation, though, has become full on joy. I never thought this huge, round belly could be such a freeing experience. How often does a fat girl get to wear shirts that actually accentuate the midsection? How often do people actually compliment you on how round you’re getting or how cute that belly is? Even better, how many times in your life have any of us looked at ourselves naked in the mirror and not tried to suck it in? In fact, actually stuck out our bellies, rubbed them and giggled uncontrollably at it’s contents? “Look at that cute little ice cream sundae in there…Yes you are, you’re a cutie.” Never happens.

I’m thankful for this belly. I’m happy to go up a size or two. My bigger pants? A badge of honor. I’m carrying a baby. A WHOLE OTHER PERSON! There’s nothing better than knowing he’s getting bigger, even if it does mean I can no longer see my feet. It’s all worth it.

This Week in Pregnancy - Week 29

Your baby now weighs about 2 1/2 pounds and is a tad over 15 inches long from head to heel. His muscles and lungs are continuing to mature, and his head is growing bigger to accommodate his brain — which is busy developing billions of neurons. With this rapid growth, it’s no surprise that your baby’s nutritional needs reach their peak during this trimester. To keep yourself and him well nourished, you’ll need plenty of protein, vitamin C, folic acid, iron, and calcium. (About 200 milligrams of calcium is deposited in your baby’s skeleton — which is now hardening — every day.)

SECOND Glucose Test

Because I am an idiot and managed to do it incorrectly the first time.

Instructions? I Dun Need No Stinkin’ Instructions!

I had everything planned down to the letter for the glucose test today. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work that way. 

6am: Wake up and take medication
7am: I check the clock in the kitchen, 7am. I started defrosting the sausage. Made eggs and sausage. Had a battle with something I refuse to discuss, then sat down to eat. 
7:50 am (8:50?): I know it didn’t take me 2 hours to make breakfast but all the clocks in the living room said 8:50. I figured they were all wrong because the kitchen clock was right, period.
8:00am (9:00?): Eric wakes up. I’m still sitting on the couch with cold breakfast.
“Why aren’t you eating? It’s 9. Don’t you have to drink your glucose stuff soon?”
“The kitchen clock says 8.”
“Um, but all these say 9…I think it’s 9.”
“Shit.”
9:05am: I scarf down my breakfast.
9:09am: Take out the instructions for the glucose. Skim them for the time to start/stop.
9:10am: Drink the entire 10 oz in 5 minutes.
9:25am: Leave the house, try not to puke and can’t stop talking.
10:10am: Get to the doctor with 10 minutes to spare. She calls me in to weigh me.
“How are you doing?”
“This stuff suuuuuucks!”
“It’s bad! Be thankful you don’t have to take the 3 hour. A girl is here doing it now and she actually had to drink the whole thing.”
“What? Wait…you mean I wasn’t supposed to drink the whole thing?”
“No…The instructions said that.”

Well, I listened to what the receptionist said when she handed me the bottle. She said, “Drink this.” I assumed “this” meant “ALL THIS.” I didn’t READ THE FLIPPIN INSTRUCTIONS! I felt like the kid in elementary school who, during those tests that specifically said, “Read all instructions first,” would still yell out, “I AM ON NUMBER NINE!”

So now I have to go back on Monday and redo it. I am an idiot.

Send Your Prayers

Send your prayers to the Girl and the Doogal. Big ultrasound today. Bring everyone good news!!

ETA: Send some for Lee Ann-a Banana, too, whose LadyBug is trying to ram her cervix open with sheer butt force. Let’s hope everything and everyone’s staying put!

My Dearest Son - Week 28

My Dearest Benjamin,

I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to begin this, but the majority of this pregnancy has been spent scared to death that you’d suddenly not be here. I guess now is a safe enough time to start. Although, some days, you are particularly quiet and I have that same old fear all over again. Your momma’s a worrier.

You’ve gotten so big in the past month, it’s almost sad. I already feel like you’re growing up too fast. Can you imagine what I’m going to be like when you actually are growing up? Be afraid, be very afraid. I’ll tell you now, my mom was always afraid of seeing me grow up. She was a watcher and a worrier. It’s something I swore I’d never inherit, but I obviously did, and for that, I’ll apologize in advance.
I’m sorry that I won’t let you leave the yard to play unless I know exactly where you’re going to be, who you’re with and if there’s a parent with you.
I’m sorry that I’ll always make you hold my hand when you cross the street, even when your friends are watching.
I’m sorry that I won’t drop you off at the mall, even though all your other friend’s moms do it.
I’m sorry that I will hug you like it’s the last time I’m going to see you everytime you leave to go somewhere.
I’m sorry that I won’t let you climb a tree without a safety rope, or at least without me standing underneath you, screeching, “BENJAMIN! DON’T FALL! COME BACK DOWN HERE! YOU’RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF! THAT’S FAR ENOUGH!”
I’m sorry that I’m going to be nuerotic and overprotective and cry very, very hard everytime you prove to me that you’re more grown up than I thought you were.
I’m sorry that I’ll justify all these things with a, “Because I’m your mother and I said so. It’s for your own good,” because who the hell can argue with that? It’s unfair, but I’m going to use it anyway.

I don’t WANT to do these things. I don’t WANT to act this way. I just don’t have a choice. It’s a family curse. We’re nervous, protective people. You’ll likely end up needing therapy for this at some point. So start saving now, it may take a few years.

Love,
Your Crazy Momma

This Week in Pregnancy - Week 28

By this week, your baby weighs a little over 2 pounds and measures about 14.8 inches from the top of her head to her heels. She can open her eyes — which now sport lashes — and she’ll turn her head toward a continuous, bright light from the outside. Her fat layers are beginning to form, too, as she gets ready for life outside the womb.

Glucose Test

Eat breakfast at 8:00
Drink icky stuff from 9:10-9:15
Get into the dr’s office at 10
Blood drawn at 10:15
Puke

Fun stuff!

Ben’s due date

Which doesn’t mean much!