The Bunn

For those of you that still keep tabs on this, I suppose I owe you an update. But since pictures are worth a thousand words (and because I have my arms full and typing one-handed isn't one of my strongest skills...), allow me to introduce the long-awaited Bunn:

Born 9-15-10 at 10:12am
8 lbs 5.4 oz

Fat and Sassy

I guess I should update. It always seems to cross my mind that "I should put that on the blog..." but I never seem to manage to get around to actually doing it. Slacker, yes. I'm aware.

The first thing that seemed to cross my mind (2 months ago) was the first movements. How strange to feel the little flutters and bubbles... which now are more alien-esque kicks and squirms, contorting and shifting my entire belly. It's crazy, watching the little shins, feet and knees poke out, and to watch the little back end slide across my belly button.

I tried for weeks to catch the little squirt on video, but every time I whipped out the camera, he seemed to sense it and quit moving. Like mother, like son, I suppose. Camera? Quick, hide! I'm always the one behind the camera, never in front of it.

I've also been trying to document "belly pictures" for those of you who so desperately need to see the bulge in action. The problem with this is that the pictures ... well... suck, mainly because they're being taken 1) by me, and 2) by a camera phone. And usually in my bathroom, because that's where the lighting is the best.

Behold! February-Belly. Notice, I still have abs! How I long for the solid belly that could help me sit up on my own, roll over, stand straight, walk normal, etc...-sigh-

March-Belly. "Hey, look! I'm showing!!" Heh heh... yeah, I had no idea...

April-Belly. As I recall, this was the "just ate too much dinner" belly. This was shopping for all those super-cute maternity clothes with that dorky belly pillow strapped under it all, with that huge velcro strap that just simply did not fit right... HA! "Karin, this doesn't look right... babies aren't this... lumpy... It looks like I have a chair cushion sitting on my belly!" Yeah, I got the deformed one.

May-Belly. This was about the time people started to notice something was a little amiss. Like, the odd weight distribution... In scrubs, it just looked like I had a doughnut addiction. I love the beatings-around-the-bush as people try to figure out if you're actually pregnant, or if you're just getting fat. "Look at me from the side... do I look different to you?"

June-Belly! All of a sudden, there he is. And scrubs don't hide him anymore. In fact, I think he hates being in scrubs. He sure went and made them impossibly uncomfortable in a big hurry. Of all things I never thought would happen. Grown out of scrubs. Now I look at moo-moos and think "Ooh! That looks breathy and fresh! Can I wear that with my Hawaiian flip-flops?"

Lastly, I had my 29 week appointment yesterday, postponed from 28 weeks and with a brand new doctor, because unbeknownst to everyone, my original OB is pregnant and on bedrest! Surprise! And the glucose test made me sick. Yuck. Glucosoda. I really don't recommend adding it to your beverage list. It actually tastes like really sugary orange soda. So if you like orange soda, it's fantastic. Other than the 50g of sugar, which hops you up like a triple-shot espresso with a Red Bull chaser. Whoo!! The crash, on the other hand, is more foot-to-your-face style. Tagged onto a blood draw, no less, which makes everything better. However, I especially enjoyed the warning from the lab tech, as I was about to down the short-bottle of liquid orange hell, about "don't go off and run stairs now," as if I looked like I was going to in the first place. Maybe I did, who knows...

Happy Days

At last I have peace of mind about all the dreams and worries that have been plaguing me for the past several weeks; dreams about finding little boys that I don't know what to do with, picking blue flowers, debilitating diseases and bizarre genetic anomalies. I'm also extremely relieved to note, on my behalf as well Joe's, that the ultrasound did not, in fact, reveal a luxuriously coated black puppy.

Our Confirmation Ultrasound was on the 16th, and despite the wiggling and squirming, we were able to see all the little parts and pieces of a cute little person sitting rather photogenically in Indian style, waving little arms and fingers around. My little Yoga baby. Who expected anything less of me?



Just look at that face... I only hope he keeps the pert little English-blooded nose and doesn't wind up with a Roman honker. I was stunned to note, as well, that the precious little head measures a whopping 16.42 cm in diameter. Ain't it cute?

And the little Yoga pose made the rest of the ultrasound fairly easy, too.



Yep, it's a boy! As if we had any doubt... :)

Naturally Delinquent

I remind you readers that I'm not that good at keeping up with this blogging thing. Use of words is my strong point. Putting them to technological use (ie: using the phone, email, BLOGS...) has me astutely dumbfounded.

However, being the middle of the 4th month, there's a few milestones that must be mentioned. So, celebrate with me a minute-

First and foremost: bye-bye pukeys!! (I'll wait while you get the excitement out of your system, too.) I can't tell you how utterly elated I am that I can eat something...anything... and it stays put. Granted, it gives me heartburn (everything, including water gives me heartburn), but it stays in my thoracic cavity, at least! As long as I'm not hungry, I'm not trying to keep my innards inwards. Which makes every morning peanut butter sandwich that much better, seeing as it's not being propelled toward the dashboard.

Secondly, we went in on the 5th for our visit to the OB to see if we could hear the heartbeat. After 5 minutes, the only heartbeat we were hearing was my own. So to ease fears and uncertainties, we had another ultrasound done, to find the little squirt wriggling about quite enthusiastically. We watched it "breathe," watched the little heart beating, and watched as the little feet and hands stretched and squirmed as much as it could. We even had the first shot of our first full moon. We're proud parents! Unfortunately, since the machine was out of paper, we didn't get any pictures, for which I'm extremely "bummed..." No hiney shots, sorry.

Lastly, this is the end of the first Trimester! Here comes the second. And every pound I see on the scale, or every button I can't get closed on my jeans makes it that much more real. But the increase in cup size is nice, considering I never made it very far out of the A's. Wider I may be, and rounder through the middle every day, but I can still run, which also helps the waxing-and-waning energy levels. And I definitely have newfound love for Joe's T-shirts.

Baby Dreams

I've been reading lately in a few books and pregnancy guides that women often start having strange dreams about their unborn child. Usually, these dreams are troubling, such as the baby being deformed, or something. And so the truth seems to hold... Except what the books don't talk about is the father having similar strange dreams, right along side me! On the same night!

Not that strange dreams are any new subject for me, certainly, but I guess I haven't dreamed much about babies in the past. Nor, I don't think, has Joe.

In my dream, I was with my Mom and this dark-haired, dark-eyed baby boy that, try as I might, I had no memory of having. The baby was tiny, about 10 inches in length, but acted about 3 months of age, holding its head up, pulling faces and smiling at everyone. It never cried or made much noise, and despite my mom telling me that I would get used to taking care of him, I was afraid to even pick him up because I hadn't a clue how to go about it. Much less, anything else.

All peculiar enough, but then Joe dreamt that he was the one who delivered this little baby, and that it, too, was tiny, about 10 inches, and absolutely covered in a thick, luxurious mat of black hair.

Usually I'm pretty good at interpreting dreams, but these seem to have me at a loss. I guess, on the bright side, despite being small, the baby was healthy in both dreams! Just hairy...

Peanut Portraits

Friday was our first ultrasound. 8 weeks. It was, unquestionably, the coolest thing I've ever seen. Despite the nerves and nausea, seeing that tiny heart beating was exhilerating. And somehow, the affirmation that, for now, at least, everything's okay makes all the puking and mood swings and tiredness all worth it.

Before it unrolled, it was measuring at 16.4 mm and 8 weeks 2 days.

Fully stretched out, it measured 16.8 mm and 8 weeks and 3 days. That's what I call a stretch! 4mm and one day!

Week 6

The last few days have been anything but exciting. Poor Joe's come down with pneumonia, and that makes things around here quite lonely. So while he confines himself to the couch, I fussbudget around and try not to "catch" anything. If it weren't for Hunter and the Birds, I don't know what I'd do!

In other news, last week we had our Confirmation Visit with the doctor. How exciting. And pretty much, that's all it was. Yep, you're pregnant! Now what?

In another week we go back to see the first 8 week ultra sound. I'm guessing it's to give the doctor a better idea of age.

I've also had my first full-fledged bout of real live morning sickness! Up till now I was beginning to wonder if I would get it at all. But after the initial 48 hours of constant nausea (and I'm not exaggerating), I found myself with my head in the kitchen sink this morning thinking to myself, "I haven't thrown up in two years!" Literally, two years! So much for records.

But, being optimistic, despite how miserable I feel (although admittedly, I felt like a million bucks immediately after the five-minute episode, thinking, "oh,that hurts... Hey! What do you know? That's, like, a killer ab workout!"), I suppose it does mean that the hormones are doing their thing, right?

The Bunn

This is the waiting period. The time between the positive at-home pregnancy tests and the official First Doctors Visit. This first week of mine has been full of what-ifs and a lot of being told how horrible this is going to be, financially, physically, emotionally, and apparently by the end of the whole ordeal, I will find myself in Labor and Delivery screaming to my husband, "If you EVER touch me again, so help me...!!"

I'm inclined to remain optimistic. In fact, despite the reinforcement of the possibility that this could be the worst nine months of my life, I find myself wondering about things like: What will I look like? Will I be the little Basketball-Belly Mom? Will I be the All-Out-Front Mom? Or will I be Penguin Mom?

I'm definitely hoping for the former, not the latter. But I guess time will tell there. Right now, I just feel and look like I've had a little too much to eat. (Mom, I'll spare the naked belly pictures for now.)

In the meantime, I'll continue to "eat for two," even though it feels like I have to force myself most of the time. I'm telling myself that it's not attached yet, so I'm not technically eating for two. Yet. As far as I know...

First Timer

There's a first time for everything, right? That's blogging for me. I finally caved (I'm quite sure to my little sister's greatest delight) to familial pressure and got out of my tech-unsaavy box, in which I've been happily living for the past 8-or-so years.

But, seeing as I'm not allowed to continue living under my delusion that the internet is a corruption of the space-time continuum (thanks, Karin), I'll keep a blog.

It isn't like I don't have anything to talk about, afterall. I'm bubbling over! But phones, email, texting and all those other technological advances are beyond me. So forgive me.

And here I start.

Except I don't know exactly where "here" is, to tell the truth... So accept it as :

Week 4 (or thereabouts)

As I'm sure everyone knows, this is all totally new to me. I feel like I'm grappling along in the dark for something that I can comprehend. As of right now, I really feel no different, with the exception of being a little tender and crampy, and maybe a little overly-emotional, but I hardly notice. I keep waiting for the puking episodes and the faintness and the dizziness and the torrents of bitter, hormonal fury that come pouring out onto any unsuspecting person, all of which I keep hearing about from others who have been there, or know someone who has.

On the flip-side, I've had ample amounts of overjoyed people running up to me to spill thier gooey "I'm so HAPPY!" all over me. At work, there's approximately 1.2 billion people who have all heard through the grapevine, and I think I have personally told about 7 of them. That's 7 people.

It seems strange that such a little thing (literally! Through my reading, I've learned that it's now about 1/16 to 1/8 of an inch long!) can cause such a huge rucous. After watching a friend of mine last year, I keep telling myself as soon as I start showing and the "belly-grabbers" come out, I'm going to get a shirt that reads, "touch me and die."

But for now, I'm safe. From the belly-grabbers, at least.