It's good to be back. I've been sucked into Facebook hell, and that's keeping me away from this blog. You see, I can only do so much web-2.0-ing . . .
Well, so much has happened since the last post: Obama's inauguration; I read a really good book titled, The Happiness of Bliss; I saw Slumdog Millionaire on the big screen (awesome awesome awesome!); we've had the snowiest January on record (almost. We still have a few more inches to go, but snow is in the forecast for the next few days). Um, on paper it doesn't look like much, but it's really a lot. really.
I'm 22+ weeks now. I'm really showing, and I'm finally feeling the baby kick. It's much more subtle than I imagined, but she's still wee and doesn't have the reach to connect yet. Personally, I chose to think she's too sweet, too good-natured to want to hurt me, and no one needs to disabuse me of this image. Also, while it seems like I have been pregnant FOREVER, it's actually going fast. I have chronic heartburn, and I'm starting to feel the weight now, but otherwise I am tip-top.
Oh, yes! I've just about finished with the nursery: crib; new mattress; new crib set (adorable); car seat; mobile; pack and play; changing table; cloth diapers; dresser. The hard part was clearing the room. Mr. R and I are like a pair of goldfish in that we will grow to fill any space, and we had that room filled top to bottom. We still occupy the closet, and I have no idea where that stuff is going to fit, but I'm banking on the fact that she won't need the closet for awhile.
I also registered for baby stuff. Mostly I did this from my desktop, but in the end I invited my mother- and my sister-in-law along to guide me through the process. We had a lovely time being girls.
Well, more to say on that but out of time for this post. More soon.
I'm two weeks away from the final trimester. Unbelievable.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
It's a . . .
Girl!!!!!!!!
Better still, a very active, very well-formed little baby. When she finally sat still, the ultrasound docs could see that, developmentally, she is right on track, and I couldn't be happier for that. The whole process is way more nerve-wracking than I envisioned. For example, you don't receive all the info at once because the docs need to change the views, take measurements, etc. It went something like this: "now we are measuring the head-to-rump. Photo/photo/photo/measure/measure/measure/place-measurements-against-the-norm. Perfect!
Now we are looking at the brain, specifically, the brain stem. We can check for water on the brain, and we can also look for Down's Syndrome again. Perfect.
Now we are looking at the heart (this took forever and had us on tenterhooks). Perfect.
Now we are looking at the kidneys (trust me). Perfect. Now we are . . . oh, would you like to know the sex . . . yes?"
But when the doc announced the gender, I shamefully admit I was disappointed, and now I am trying to hide this from the baby and a bunch of other people as well. It's not like I've cried about it or anything, and if we were in China, I wouldn't have her killed; it's just that I have been thinking of the boy-advantages way more than the girl-advantages, and I've pretty well convinced myself that the boy is the way to go. I feel badly for Mr. R - no legacy, and no Little R to follow in his footsteps. Mr. R is such a boy, and I wanted him to share his boy stuff and boy interests with our kid and please don't tell me that a girl can be a stand-in because there is just no way. She'll play his games, to a point, and then she'll be what she is: a girl. And the truth is, Mr. R will want it that way, and so will I. We both want to encourage the child to be her own person; we just think a boy would be easier. I mean, everything is more difficult with girls, and now we will be paying for college and a wedding, that is if we can guide her safely through her teenage years and ourselves survive the worry, the agonizing worry of sending a daughter out into the world, every single day. And, Mr. R. says already that he will be worthless as a parent because he's just going to give her everything she asks for (the marshmallow). Why, oh, why, did we ever think we could do this?
{sigh} My poor baby, Audrey Lee.
Better still, a very active, very well-formed little baby. When she finally sat still, the ultrasound docs could see that, developmentally, she is right on track, and I couldn't be happier for that. The whole process is way more nerve-wracking than I envisioned. For example, you don't receive all the info at once because the docs need to change the views, take measurements, etc. It went something like this: "now we are measuring the head-to-rump. Photo/photo/photo/measure/measure/measure/place-measurements-against-the-norm. Perfect!
Now we are looking at the brain, specifically, the brain stem. We can check for water on the brain, and we can also look for Down's Syndrome again. Perfect.
Now we are looking at the heart (this took forever and had us on tenterhooks). Perfect.
Now we are looking at the kidneys (trust me). Perfect. Now we are . . . oh, would you like to know the sex . . . yes?"
But when the doc announced the gender, I shamefully admit I was disappointed, and now I am trying to hide this from the baby and a bunch of other people as well. It's not like I've cried about it or anything, and if we were in China, I wouldn't have her killed; it's just that I have been thinking of the boy-advantages way more than the girl-advantages, and I've pretty well convinced myself that the boy is the way to go. I feel badly for Mr. R - no legacy, and no Little R to follow in his footsteps. Mr. R is such a boy, and I wanted him to share his boy stuff and boy interests with our kid and please don't tell me that a girl can be a stand-in because there is just no way. She'll play his games, to a point, and then she'll be what she is: a girl. And the truth is, Mr. R will want it that way, and so will I. We both want to encourage the child to be her own person; we just think a boy would be easier. I mean, everything is more difficult with girls, and now we will be paying for college and a wedding, that is if we can guide her safely through her teenage years and ourselves survive the worry, the agonizing worry of sending a daughter out into the world, every single day. And, Mr. R. says already that he will be worthless as a parent because he's just going to give her everything she asks for (the marshmallow). Why, oh, why, did we ever think we could do this?
{sigh} My poor baby, Audrey Lee.
Monday, January 5, 2009
big, big day
Tomorrow is my 18-week appointment with the OB-GYN. That's at 1:00PM. Then, at 3:00, I am scheduled for an anatomy scan with the specialist-guy in Beechwood. This should tell us if we are having a Colin or an Audrey. I'm so excited I really don't know what to write, but I guess it would be appropriate to record my gender thoughts before the scan.
Right now, I think I am carrying a boy. This is mainly because of the old wives' tales, ie, I am craving salty things, my left breast is not noticably bigger than my right, my pee is day-glo in color, etc. But, the problem is that I've checked several wives' tales sources, and some of them contradict, one saying the signs indicate girl and another saying the same signs indicate boy. So, I am basing my guess on the first source (so scientific) I consulted. The one thing I did not do was swing a pendant over my belly. That is probably the key predictor; I've just been lazy.
Last week, I was talking to my mom, and she asked of I had the "brown line" under my belly button. I checked, and I don't. Not even a trace. Now, this is a big deal in my family. For my mother's people (those being my aunt and two female cousins), this is a huge pregnancy symptom - the line is really dark and manifests itself pretty early. In fact, as my mother recalls it, she didn't know she was pregnant until her sister pointed out the line (linea negra). Well, my mom, aunt, and two cousins, each with their pronounced lineas, all had girls. Another tick in the Colin column, perhaps.
I think I'm more comfortable parenting a girl just because of my girl-life experience; I think I'm better-suited to parent a boy because of those same, girl experiences. I feel like I carry too much baggage to raise a healthy, happy girl, and I am scared to death of the mental/emotional damage I might cause a young woman simply because I have such trouble with my own body image and its relative importance in my life. I know that my relationship with my own mother is complex, on good days, and totally *ucked, on others. I just feel like I could hide my junk better from a son.
Well, Mr. R has been quiet on the subject of gender preference. Based on his interaction with his niece and nephew, his mother says he's partial to girls, but she's generally wrong about all things Mr. R, so go figure. Though he hasn't said it, I think he is concerned about my girl-raising abilities, too.
What we do know is we are one-and-out, so maybe we both hold back our preferences knowing our odds are 50/50, and - like everybody else - default to the "I-just-hope-it's-healthy" retort.
Today, I think I will enjoy my last day of ignorance (at least on this subject).
Right now, I think I am carrying a boy. This is mainly because of the old wives' tales, ie, I am craving salty things, my left breast is not noticably bigger than my right, my pee is day-glo in color, etc. But, the problem is that I've checked several wives' tales sources, and some of them contradict, one saying the signs indicate girl and another saying the same signs indicate boy. So, I am basing my guess on the first source (so scientific) I consulted. The one thing I did not do was swing a pendant over my belly. That is probably the key predictor; I've just been lazy.
Last week, I was talking to my mom, and she asked of I had the "brown line" under my belly button. I checked, and I don't. Not even a trace. Now, this is a big deal in my family. For my mother's people (those being my aunt and two female cousins), this is a huge pregnancy symptom - the line is really dark and manifests itself pretty early. In fact, as my mother recalls it, she didn't know she was pregnant until her sister pointed out the line (linea negra). Well, my mom, aunt, and two cousins, each with their pronounced lineas, all had girls. Another tick in the Colin column, perhaps.
I think I'm more comfortable parenting a girl just because of my girl-life experience; I think I'm better-suited to parent a boy because of those same, girl experiences. I feel like I carry too much baggage to raise a healthy, happy girl, and I am scared to death of the mental/emotional damage I might cause a young woman simply because I have such trouble with my own body image and its relative importance in my life. I know that my relationship with my own mother is complex, on good days, and totally *ucked, on others. I just feel like I could hide my junk better from a son.
Well, Mr. R has been quiet on the subject of gender preference. Based on his interaction with his niece and nephew, his mother says he's partial to girls, but she's generally wrong about all things Mr. R, so go figure. Though he hasn't said it, I think he is concerned about my girl-raising abilities, too.
What we do know is we are one-and-out, so maybe we both hold back our preferences knowing our odds are 50/50, and - like everybody else - default to the "I-just-hope-it's-healthy" retort.
Today, I think I will enjoy my last day of ignorance (at least on this subject).
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