2010 2.0

2010 was a big year, and not at all like I thought it would be.

We started out the year not knowing where we would live during its second half. I left a job which left me less than inspired at the end of the workday, though I worked for and with some wonderful people. My husband became an actual degreed and practicing M.D. We had the opportunity to travel in Southeast Asia again - six full weeks, in addition to several more weeks spent roaming, visiting family, apartment searching in and moving to LA - totaling about three months of complete free time with my husband.

I got pregnant. We moved across the country. I taught music and theater again. I got into yoga again. I spent most of the year thinking and dreaming about - and preparing for - my first baby's birth. Our beloved cat, who's been with us for almost a decade, nearly died and then bounced back with the help of modern (veterinary) medicine and is just about as good as new. He also learned how to climb up on my pregnant belly and hug me around the neck. It's all about adapting, really.

2010, you were good. Here's to you.

Christmas

We did not have a lonely Christmas, after all. Matt (miraculously) had Christmas Day off, so his parents and brother flew to LA to celebrate with us. We had such a great time. But we didn't really get any good pictures.



Matt and I exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. Really, no good pictures here, either. But a really fun evening.

We didn't actually put anything in Fela's or the baby's stocking.


Lindsay likes new jewelry


Matt likes new henley shirts

švestkové (meruňkové) knedlíky

aka plum (apricot) dumplings (I used Google Translate to figure out how to actually say/type this in Czech).

This year my mother-in-law taught me how to make this Pavelka family favorite dish...truly one of my husband's favorite things ever - probably because they typically only show up about once a year, in September, when the special small plums that are used to make this dish are in season. We made them with apricots and they were delicious. MIL does not use a recipe to make these - the hands-on instruction was, therefore, invaluable - and very fun.

You wrap each individual fruit in a doughy shell of dumpling and then boil. The juices are locked inside the dumpling. You then cut them up, remove the stone, and top with cottage cheese, cinnamon-sugar, and butter. (If you are not by now wishing you were Czech, there is something wrong with you.)





Matt was on call the day/night that we made them, so he enjoyed his knedliky for breakfast when he got home in the morning. You can see his excitement - in spite of the sleep deprivation.



sexy sexy knedliky!

Moonmories

Too much rain to see the solstice lunar eclipse from LA tonight. But I'm remembering the first lunar eclipse I ever saw. I was about six or seven, with my parents, out late at night at an outdoor concert (at Ironworld, if that means something to you). It was summertime. It was astounding then. I'm sure it would be astounding tonight...but I'll just have to be content to reminisce instead of watch. Good night.

A week spent sitting on my butt.

I've been sick with an awful cold since Tuesday. I have only left the house a handful of times and only for a little while at a time. I guess I have been trying to enjoy the luxury of only having myself to look after...the next time I get an awful cold, I doubt I'll be able to freeze everything and lie around for a week...or so I hear...from people who are parents.

I have a lengthy to-do list that I was looking forward to tackling. I have not made much of a dent in it. Even the easy little things that I can do from home - thank you notes, starting to pack a bag, etc. - I've been much more inclined to do absolutely nothing except work through the first few seasons of Grey's Anatomy on Hulu. Yes, Grey's Anatomy. Yes, I am ashamed of myself.

I was pretty certain that I would feel better today, and I looked forward to getting out of the house. When I woke up this morning, I felt like complete shit and resigned myself to another day on the couch. I had no complaints. I was happy with my OJ, cough drops, blanket, TV and sometime lap cat. UNTIL about 10:45 PM tonight, when I suddenly felt a huge surge of vitality and energy (completely unrelated, I am sure, to the massive amount of Nutella I had just consumed) and a need to get some shit DONE. Did I mention that it has been pouring rain all day? I'm still sick, there is no way I'm going out in this rain at 11:30 on a Saturday night, and yet I'm stuck here with my energy surge and a big to-do list and did I mention that it's almost midnight???

It is going to be a long night.

It's serious

36b.

36a.

Whenever I want a good laugh, I look back at older pregnancy photos I posted on this blog and remember how I thought I was "sooooooo biiiiiig." Ha.

35.

My parents arrived in LA today. They are going to stay for a week and help me finish setting up the nursery. Matt is starting a tough rotation this week so Mom and Dad will keep me company.

They arrived in time to accompany me to my 35-week checkup and ultrasound. The baby is still head down and my pregnancy is as perfect as an ultrasound can promise. Good fluid levels, good placenta, perfect baby. He is not a giant baby, as I feared - he is just about perfect sized. So hopefully I can push him out. He was not giving us a good angle on his profile, so we didn't get to see whether he is rocking a Pavelka or a Bonner nose.

I just want to know what he looks like. He is right here...in this room with me...right next to this laptop. And I don't know what he looks like. I can't wait to see him soon. But I hope he waits until his mama is slightly more organized.

I am going to change the name of this blog

to "Pictures of Me and Fela Hugging" because that's what it's becoming. This happened for about 5 full minutes at my house tonight.

And stay down!

I've been trying to decide how much money and time (and how soon) I wanted to spend on different ways to turn my breech baby (acupuncture, Webster technique chiropractor, moxibustion, etc). We've been doing inversions off of the couch, using the rebozo techniques our doula showed us, and I've been skipping squatting postures in yoga class. But there are other things one can try, and they cost money, and our insurance does not cover them. So Matt and I decided that before we make any appointments, we should check things out and see if the little guy is indeed still breech...so he gave me an ultrasound at the hospital tonight. His attending let us borrow a room and an ultrasound machine and let him sneak away for a minute. It was fun. Just the two of us, an ancient ultrasound machine, an almost-empty bottle of freezing cold ultrasound gel, and our big baby.

And that baby was head down. Head down! Face out - facing in is ideal - but I'll take it.

We jiggled my belly and watched his little arms move around. He rubbed his face and I felt him punch my abdominal wall. It was amazing and cute to see and feel at the same time. I also got to see the penis this time, which I missed last time. There's a little penis in my belly. McLovin' It

It was a day of good news, as I also took the kitty to the vet for a recheck and we discovered that his red blood cell count had improved greatly. Hooray!!! Healthy kitty, healthy baby. I got home tonight and ate so much food it was unbelievable. I think I've been holding all of this worry...trying not to, but holding it nonetheless.

Fela is telling me that it's bedtime. He has ways. So goodnight.

34.

my back hurt

Drugs I pop down my cat's throat 1-2 times per day

Pepcid - for acid reflux
Mirtazapine - an appetite stimulant
Metaclopramide - a nausea suppressant
Prednisolone - a steroid for immunosuppression
Cyclosporine - another immunosuppressant
Beytril - an antibiotic
Doxycycline - another antibiotic
Sucralfate - an antiulcer medication


Luckily, Fela is a special cat and if I catch him in the right mood he will even purr while I force his jaws apart and drop the pill on the back of his tongue. If I comb him real slow down his back in between pills, he's mine.

According to the counter on this blog, I'm due to push a small person out in 44 days. 44. Cat. Get better.

Fela!

sick dude post-blood transfusion (that didn't work)

I'm copying this text from an email I sent to my aunt this morning, verbatim, because I don't want to type it all out again.

-

Well, at 5am a hungry cat woke me up and cried all the way to the kitchen. I fed him a little, and we went back to bed. Then, at 8am, I was awakened by an energetic dude with a rattling toy on the bed. He chased it around for a while. We were shocked.

The internist called to check up on him, and at her suggestion, we took him for a red cell recheck today and the level had gone up! It's still low, and he's still dehydrated - but less so - and the internist feels pretty confident that it's autoimmune in nature and that the steroid is helping. She and Matt were calling it IMHA (immune-mediated hemolytic anemia?) and she said it's very rare in cats, more common in dogs. She checked a stool and there was no sign of a bleed.

We're taking him in on Monday or Tuesday for another recheck. If he needs another transfusion we'll think about it then, after the steroid has a little longer to do its magic.

Unreal. I know we're not out of the woods yet, but he is eating and playing today...drinking water as I type this. I didn't think he would survive the week.

So, so relieved and hopeful!

What a week.

Fela is sick. We noticed that he had stopped eating, for the most part, and that he was looking really skinny and was lethargic. We took him to the vet yesterday and they were able to give him a full exam - totally unheard of for Fela - he usually fights them off with a vengeance. We learned that he has lost two pounds in less than two months. I feel horrible, horrible, horrible for not noticing sooner...but I see him every day, and his coat is still shiny and pretty, and he's still sweet...I just didn't see it.

The vet called this morning and said that his blood tests show that he is severely anemic and needs a transfusion, which he will get this afternoon, along with an ultrasound and some xrays - and possibly more bloodwork. I am really dreading this. Something is causing him to be anemic - and also to not want to eat.

We have had Fela for nearly nine years - almost our entire relationship. Fela was my first Christmas present from Matt...he was a tiny little kitten. He cried the whole first night that we had him. The second night, he slept in my hair. We've been his ever since. With the exception of a few extended trips that Matt and I have taken, he's been with us for most of our adult lives.

He loves to be spanked and to stand and walk in front of Matt with his rear feet on top of Matt's feet. He is incredibly goofy and fun and sweet.

Please send sweet Fela your good vibes.

Life's a breech

My baby is breech at 32 weeks. Sono at 35 weeks to see if he's turned...it's still, apparently, common for them to turn between 32 and 35 weeks. Rare after that. Cross your fingers that all of the pelvic tilts I'm about to do on a daily basis will help.

A homophone for "breech" is "breach," as in "a security breach." An archaic meaning of the word "breach" is "the breaking of waves; the dashing of surf." OK, it's a stretch...I'm just sayin'...this is Matt's baby.

Anyone have any tips or tricks for turning a breech baby? Pelvic tilts, feet up on the wall, shine a bright light on the bottom of your belly...these are all I know. Share share.

AH SWEET MYSTERY OF LIFE AT LAST I'VE FOUND THEEEEE

To experience what I'm feeling right now, go here.

Lefa 2.0

My uncle sent me the following email and I had to had to HAD TO share it:

Saw your post on your blog about Aunt Lefa - loved it! I can add a few more details too...

The young boy's father approached Lefa at her house in the afternoon and said he had some business to take care of and that he would be back for his son that evening.

She "borrowed" the pistol from her neighbor and when the man came back, he was drunk. He tossed her to the floor and started heading for the bedrooms. Lefa got in his way again and he threw her up against the wall, this time tearing her dress. As he continued toward the bedrooms, she grabbed the pistol which she was hiding under her apron and shot him in the back several times. Lefa was put on trial for murder, but the court found her not guilty and awarded her $5 for a new dress. True story!

I remember your Granddad and I visited Lefa during the summer of 1980. She was not expecting any visitors so when she answered the door she had a large butcher knife in her lap (she was in a wheelchair at the time). I remember how she tried to hide the knife under her apron as soon as she recognized "Harve". She was quite embarrassed, but I'll never forget that knife - it was huge!

Hello Mister Zebra

I'm making a mobile for the baby's room. Today I found these little animal figurines and I spent the afternoon wiring them with jeweler's wire so that they will hang straight.


My favorite is the mama with the baby on her back (ape? gorilla? chimp? I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know my primates). The fox doesn't really fit in the safari theme...I purchased him on accident...but he is welcome to stay. Make it work.

Here are a couple of photos I found online and am using for inspiration:






I love how they used the branch in the bird mobile. I might do that. I'm struggling with how to make it actually...um...hang. I bought some wooden dowels, but they seem boring. I'm a little stuck. But really proud of myself for having the idea to use the wire. I wired 'em REAL GOOD so they don't fall on my baby.

Does anyone have any questions for me about how unemployment is going? No?

Aunt Lefa

My paternal grandfather was from rural West Virginia. He had an aunt named Lefa. Lefa was a BAD ASS.

When Lefa was a teenager, the neighbor (possibly a widower?) dropped his young son off for her to babysit while he went out. He returned four years later, drunk, and demanded his son (who by that time, of course, had been unofficially adopted by the family). Lefa refused. I don't know exactly what transpired - I assume that he became belligerent and violent - in the end, Lefa shot and killed the man. My grandfather grew up knowing the boy as a cousin.

Years later, my newly wedded, still-hippie parents visited the relatives in West Virginia. After the customary congratulations, Aunt Lefa pulled my mom aside and told her, quietly, "Honey, if that man ever gives you any trouble, you just get yourself a big ol' hatpin. Poke him with it a couple of times and he won't bother you any more."

Do you have any, ANY idea how much I wish I could have met this woman?

31.

at Rincon Point, Ventura CA

Matt has a cool job

He got to be a helicopter doctor today.







Meanwhile, on the home front, I made two different kinds of soup at the same time. (in an effort to use up the contents of my fridge before they spoil).

180

We are not changing doctors. Nope nope nope. Not doing it. Not.

I'm keeping the doctor I want (and the doctor my baby daddy wants). We'll figure out a payment plan.

Apparently it WAS heartburn.

30. And insurance update.

Both of us are 30 in this picture...me, years; baby, weeks. Yay! Fela, however, will be 9 in a couple of weeks.

We are also visiting you from a new room. Matt and I did some rearranging and got a nice new desk that has replaced our cute breakfast nook. We didn't really need a nook. I won't get into all of the boring details, but here's a summary: We moved the painting to make way for the bookshelf we bought to replace the bookshelf over the giant desk we are getting rid of and replacing with the new desk that we put where the table was which we moved to the window where the old small bookshelf was which we folded up and put in the baby's room where the old desk was which we got rid of to make space for the crib to make space for the baby because my abdomen, quite frankly, is running out of space.

We met with the new OB and liked him a lot. He had had deliveries the night before but he still took his time with us, answered all our questions very honestly, and even listened to the baby's heartbeat at the end of the consultation. I was worried that an HMO practice would be too quick-paced for me, and that I'd be just a number. I didn't feel that way at all. He was supportive of me choosing a natural childbirth with a doula and we discussed laboring at home - which was my plan, anyway. He won't push for induction until 41 w 5 d. That's good, too.

We also like the smaller hospital at which he primarily delivers - we stopped by there (and literally wandered onto the maternity wing) and happened to catch the head OB nurse, who stopped what she was doing and kindly gave us a tour and talked to us for about 20 minutes. Many of the nurses at this hospital trained as midwives. It's smaller and calmer and the vibe was very friendly and laid-back. They were very excited because they had had 8 deliveries the night before and they do not usually have that many in a single night. I thought it was a great sign that the head nurse was so relaxed and knowledgeable and willing to spend time with us to tell us all about her hospital. She seemed proud of it.

So I'm thinking we're going to make the switch. If we use the HMO we pay zero. Zero. Nothing. (Or so our health insurance company says. I've been on the phone with them about ten times double-checking.) We're already going to be paying a shit ton for the OB care we received this summer before Matt's county insurance kicked in (because I didn't have maternity/pregnancy coverage).

Matt brought up feeling guilty for not wanting to pay more for the doctor we had grown comfortable with. We know what to expect with her, and we are comfortable with the way she does things. It's normal to have to pay hefty fees for your child's birth. Are we cheating ourselves? We don't know. And if we felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with the new OB or his practice or the hospital, we wouldn't consider making the switch.

That said, I'm not ready to tell my existing OB that I'm switching yet. I feel a little grief. I had all my proverbial ducks in a row, as the cliche goes. I knew what kind of prenatal and childbirth care I was going to get and I'd spent six months being comfortable and happy with it. And now everything is up in the air. I feel like I'm making as informed a decision as I can. My gut tells me to make the switch. But, emotionally, I don't want to leave my doctor.

I should follow my gut. But it's hard to trust these days. What I think is instinct is usually just heartburn.

Not bad for a phone picture

October 30th has never looked like this to me before.

Taken from the Hermosa Pier while watching Matt surf (he was floating just below the bottom edge of the picture).

Sleeppleez

Ughhhh. I have gotten myself into a horrible sleep routine. I've been staying up later and later each night and now I can't get to sleep. It's 1:30 AM! I am 30 years old and seven months pregnant, not a college student. I'm wide awake and ready to party. This is ridiculous.

Pregnancy insomnia, combined with the eat-small-meals-frequently pregnancy appetite, is a no-win. The later I stay up, the more likely it is that I will have to eat a snack (tonight's feature is a plain, dry piece of wheat bread!) so that my growling gut doesn't keep me awake. I never realize that I need a snack until AFTER I've brushed and flossed.

AND A late-night snack means that my fine fetal friend is likely to start dancing around in about 25 minutes. JUST AS I'M LYING DOWN TRYING TO SLEEP

Wahhhh...poor me. My problems are soooo huge. Pity me! If you are still reading this...I apologize. As I seem to have to do a lot on my blog these days. OK. Tomorrow I will be happy pregnant Lindsay again...I promise. On the bright side, I'm very grateful to be unemployed right now. Yay!

(Six months ago, my blog was about our adventures traveling Planet Earth; today, it's about my adventures in Planet Pregnant Stomach...my, how things have progressed.)

29.5 weeks

note the unfortunate and regrettable belly-button ring scar

Is this pregnancy getting boring for you? It's all I seem to really think about in depth these days. Just stop reading the blog, really.

Now I'm going to write about few things I've been meaning to mention but about which I don't seem to be able to muster up a whole blog post:

Goodbye, toes.

I didn't shave my legs for two weeks; I shaved them for the first time today and it was a whole lot harder to do than the last time I attempted it.

I really like non-alcoholic beer, but every time I drink one in public, I get horrible, toxic glares. Sigh.

I suddenly want to bake things...a lot. I've never been a baker. In the past month or so I've made cakes, cookies, biscuits. I was marveling about this to Matt. I thought it was some kind of maternal nesting thing. He pointed out that it's more likely the desire to eat bake things than the actual baking of them. He was so right.

I'm going to talk about breasts now. The sudden and rapid distention and reshaping of my breasts, due to pregnancy, has changed the way I think about breasts. I think what pregnancy has done to my breasts is nothing short of FABULOUS AND REMARKABLE and I am in complete denial that they will eventually deflate and I will mourn them. Tonight, Matt and I drove by a 50-something woman on rollerblades with enormous fake breasts popping out of her bikini top like big googly eyes. This particular style of fake boobs does not look like boobs to me. (If you have fake breasts - I'm sorry. I don't mean to insult. But this is my blog. Your boobs, my blog.) I'm sure some people have fake boobs that actually look natural - and those are the ones I don't notice. It's just that when I see some that are so obviously fake, they don't even look like boobs. They look like some kind of weird inflatable shirt. But hey...if the rollerblading lady is happy, that's all that matters. Except that I will blog about your weird shirt. I'm sorry, everyone. Is this mean? I don't like sounding mean.

I will leave you with this: Thirty years and some months ago, I was born at Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis. The locals call it HCMC. In April, I discovered I was pregnant in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. The guidebooks and some locals refer to it as: oh yes! HCMC.

IT MEANS SOMETHING

Addendum to my recent addendum...

We decided to interview the HMO doctor just to see what's up. I explained the situation to his office. They need to OK it with him first, since it's so late in my pregnancy. OK. We'll call you back.

20 minutes later, the doctor called me back personally to talk about his childbirth philosophy. So far so good. We meet with him next week. I have a good feeling.

Addendum to my last post...

...because I try to keep my complaining to a minimum, or at least to the confines of my home or phone conversations with close family and friends.

I would like to say that I am grateful to even have any health insurance at all...much less to have the options that I have.

I realize that I can't have everything. If I want the doctor of my choice, I will have to pay more for it. Life isn't fair. There are people with much bigger problems than mine.

It just feels weird to me...this management of childbirth. I don't fear childbirth. I fear unnecessary interventions made in the name of money and time management. I'm grateful to have the option of interventions that may save my baby's life or my own...and that's why I want to give birth in a hospital.

Insurance, my ass. This may be boring, but I am venting.

We may have to pay quite a bit out-of-pocket for our baby's birth.

I have a wonderful doctor that I love, and who is supportive of natural childbirth. The hospital we chose allows you to labor in any position and allows minimal fetal monitoring. We made these choices very very carefully. I want a natural childbirth. Matt and I had considered home birthing but ultimately decided that we felt more comfortable, for our first birth, in the hospital.

Our insurance changed when Matt started his job. We now have a Point-of-Service plan, in which you have an HMO option (everything is 100% covered, but you have to use the doctors that the HMO assigns for you) or a PPO option (we pay 20%). We thought this would work out great, but alas, we will have to pay quite a bit out-of-pocket if we go with our OB, who is on the PPO but not the HMO. Are you still with me? Snoring? Bored?

If you have had a baby, and you are reading this, and you feel comfortable, please comment and share with me what you paid out-of-pocket for your birth. I'd also love to know what the total cost was (what insurance covered, what you paid), and what kind of birth experience you had. I'm just curious.

I don't want to change doctors. It's extremely hard to find a doctor who sees value in natural childbirth. It's even harder to find that when you are randomly being assigned an OB by your HMO.

Baby Pavelka is going to learn to fill out job applications as soon as he can read.

Holidays

I've been thinking a lot about the holidays lately. Neither Matt nor I are particularly religious (Matt much less so than me), but we both love Christmas and spending that time with family.

As a first-year emergency medicine intern, Matt's year is comprised basically of 4-week long rotations throughout the hospital (ER, Peds ER, ICU's, OB, Anesthesia, Ortho, etc). He will be on one of his busiest rotations in December - an ICU rotation with Q3 call, which means his schedule will involve a 30-hour overnight hospital shift every THIRD day. The non-call days will be 12 hours or more. Think: Monday 7-7, Tuesday 7-7, Wednesday 7am - noon on Thursday, Friday 7-7, Saturday off (maybe?), Sunday 7am - noon on Monday, repeat, repeat, repeat repeat repeat. When he does get to be home, he'll probably be sleeping. I think he gets four days off that month.

On the home front, I'll be nine months pregnant and unable to travel. My parents are visiting in early December to help me finish setting up the baby's room and to entertain me while Matt works or sleeps. But it's likely that on Christmas eve and day, he will be working and I'll be by myself!

I consider myself so incredibly lucky to have a family that I love so much. I LOVE family Christmases. And the fact that I adore my in-laws and LOVE their Christmas traditions as well? I am infinitely blessed. So in the spirit of being thankful, and not pessimistic, I am determined not to mope about our Christmas situation. I will make this Christmas special for Matt and I. I'm going to get us a tree! And decorate. I'm going to stuff stockings and wrap presents and cook a big holiday dinner, even if we have to eat it in the middle of the night and go straight to bed because he has to get up for work in the morning. Because this is our last christmas before we are three, and I want to enjoy and treasure our alone time before it changes for good.

And because I love him so much. And I love to see his face on Christmas when he opens his presents.

Christmas 2008



Christmas 2009

Thunderstorms. Thumbsucking.

Isn't it wonderful when you get something nice in the mail? Even just ONE thing? Today I got THREE very exciting packages in the mail!
1) A pack n play! from my fabulous brother- and sister-in-law;
2) my first CSA delivery! from Farm Fresh to You - I got apples, spinach, carrots, lettuce, kale, GB's, and some incredible tomatoes - I spent the morning washing veggies and putting some into the crock pot; and
3) some makeup from Meow Cosmetics, which is really good makeup for very pale girls like me.

THEN, we got a brief thunderstorm!!! What a wonderful day.

I was also thinking about thumb sucking today. My friend E just had baby #3 and announced today that he is her first thumb sucker.

I was a thumb sucker. My mom got me to stop when I was 3 or so. I had been begging her to paint my fingernails, but she refused because of the thumbsucking. Finally, she relented, but said that I had to stop sucking my thumb if I had painted nails. She came into my room in the middle of the night to check on me and found me with my little thumbs tucked tight inside my hands so I wouldn't suck them. You can't bring this story up in front of my mom or she starts to weep. To this day I have a habit of squeezing my thumbs between my fingers when I'm stressed or excited.

I'm starting to become familiar with this little dude's habits. It's hard not to wonder who's in there and what he does to occupy his time. I know that when he presses hard towards my front, and I respond by pressing back with my hand, he will often kick my hand or push away in response. Response. It seems far-fetched to think of him "responding" to me - but that's what it is, so.

Fela gently informs me that there isn't much lap left on my lap:

A back in my belly

This guy moves. A lot. He's busy in his little room. Here and there I've felt what seemed like a foot poking extra hard into my side, or a hand pushing into my diaphragm. Tonight, though, I felt something new and incredible. There was a hard spot on the left side of my belly...it felt not unlike indigestion, a bloated stomach, etc. I wasn't thinking too much about it. I was absentmindedly running my hand along it, and suddenly realized it was his back. It was hard and so small and such a perfect little back-shaped lump. As I was stroking it, it disappeared...like he'd had enough of me. Just like that, just a second, and then he's gone swimming again...how wonderful. I feel like I'm starting to know him.

I get a haircut

Until this baby is born, this blog is still all about me.

26.

Week 26 technically starts tomorrow, but "tomorrow" technically starts 1 hour and 19 minutes from now, so here we are, 26 weeks large, my face shape slightly distorted (thanks, Photobooth). There are two of us in this photo and one of us is having a dance party (hint: it's not me).

Two years

Reposting my blog link from one year ago today...because I just can't believe it's been two years.

Dancejam

I made Dancejam today with a couple of friends. We each made a stuffed giraffe from a pattern one of the girls found online. I love him. I planned to make him for babypav but he turned out to be a little small...and perfectly Fela-mouth-sized...so I think I'll try again and make a bigger version for my bebe. I'm sure Fela appreciates that Dancejam was hand-stitched.

He is a giraffe, in case you couldn't tell.

Unemployment + Pregnancy

I woke up around 4:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so when Matt's alarm went off at 6, I got up with him. I made myself a big, healthy breakfast: two hard-boiled eggs (from organic grass-fed farmer-massaged blessed chickens), a piece of Ezekiel bread with peanut butter, 1/2 cup of vanilla yogurt (Brown Cow Cream Top yogurt - buy it - you're welcome) and a banana. AND a glass of OJ. I ate it all and started thinking about how productive I was going to be today, since I got up so early and started myself off with such a healthy breakfast. I took a shower, and then, around 8:30, sat down on the couch to plan my day.

I woke up on the same couch at 11:30 and then sat on the internet until about 3:00. I ate two bowls of cereal and threw on some clothes and went to the grocery store. At the grocery store, I dropped a giant bottle of barbecue sauce and it shattered on the ground and all over my Chucks. That's my big productive day.

Also, since everyone's been asking about my pregnancy cravings: Twix bars.

It's a BOY!

Matt saw the family jewels before the ultrasound tech saw them.



Everything looked normal and healthy. What a huge relief...so happy. The ultrasound tech was going down his body from head to toe. Matt saw the boy parts first and said "What is thhhhaaaat!!!!" (in a rhetorical way). As soon as she tried to actually save a picture of them he crossed his little legs so we couldn't get a penis picture. But Matt wants everyone to know that the genitals are VERY large. We think his profile looks like my dad...nose and forehead. You can even picture a little mustache and glasses on there.

O really?

I'd always wanted to know my blood type. It's O positive! Now we both know...you and I. In one hour, I'll be finding out the sex of baby P. Who will probably also be an O. Because I think my husband is the same.

Everybody look at me! I'm huge.

Bank teller: "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Me: "We'll find out next week."

Teller: [dumbfounded] "Next week?!? But I thought you could find out at, like, five months?"

Me: "Yes...I'm 20 weeks."

Teller: [jaw drops] "But you're SOOOO BIG!"

20 weeks

The necklace is a gift from Matt for our 5th wedding anniversary. My gift to him was Grand Theft Auto IV for the PS3 (that's also why he is not in the family picture).

Whomp

...and yet I still have an innie. W T F

If I must.

The baby kicked me while I was walking by the ice cream section at the grocery store. Hey, s/he's the boss.

Dear baby

Apparently, you read this blog. You seem to have gotten the message. Thanks for moving around a LOT today. It was really exciting though, at times, fairly alarming, as I started to imagine how very active a child you might become.

Also, thanks for wanting vegetables and salads today.

Dear baby

I really like when you move around in there. That's all

A little help from my friends

Fela and I are trying to figure out how we are going to fit a crib in the computer room.

No name

I've always loved thinking about names...and I always had a list of names that I loved...but now that I am actually pregnant and imminently responsible for naming this human being, I'm having total stage fright. It's too much pressure, combined with my poor decision-making skills...seriously, I might hate any given name in a year. Help. Anyone else feel this way?

Bleccccccccch

I seriously abused my body today, quite on accident, and am trying really hard not to ralph right now.

I went to the mall to get some "maternity essentials;" while I was there I had some frozen yogurt. Then I decided to go to a movie (by myself, because Matt was working) so I ate some popcorn.

Normally, after eating a big, late breakfast (we made big omelets and had toast and fruit this AM) I could totally get away with eating froyo and popcorn for lunch. Not while pregnant. I am now trying to force-feed myself an apple with peanut butter and every bite makes me feel nauseous. Normally, being hungry would make me feel hungry. Pregnancy. Wow.

Ma(tt)y's Tortas

Here is what you should make for dinner tonight. It's super fast and easy and delicious.

These tortas are inspired by Manny's Tortas in Minneapolis, which my fetus has been craving for the past week. Years ago, Matt introduced me to this little hole-in-the-wall joint (ok, by the looks of his new website, Manny has recently expanded a bit beyond traditional "hole-in-the-wall" status) in the Mercado Central mini-mall on Lake Street. Our favorite has always been and will always be Manny's vegetarian sandwich, despite the fact that we are no longer vegetarian (although I inadvertently eat mostly vegetarian anyway). Manny's bread is toasty and buttery, and these sandwiches are so amazing that I'm sure that even the pickiest of meat-eaters would fall in love. I crave it every time we visit my homeland, and now you will, too.

My thrown-together, experimental version received quite a positive review from my husband tonight. He's a tough critic. So I'm using Manny as an inspiration and nicknaming my version after my homeboy.

Ma(tt)y's Tortas

Whole-wheat burger buns (Manny uses some kind of amazing French-type or submarine sandwich bread...I wanted to go a little healthier)
Earth Balance spread
Cheese (I used shredded Mex blend...cheddar works)
Sour cream (Manny uses "chipotle mayo")
Refried beans (I used veg black RB's)
Onion, thinly sliced (none on mine, please)
Tomato, thinly sliced
Avocado, thinly sliced or mashed
Jalapenos (of the briny, jarred, sliced variety)
Lettuce (I used romaine)

Slice up all of your veggies (avocado last - put it in a little bowl, toss it with a little drizzle of lime juice, and leave the stone in there with it to prevent browning!).

Butter the buns (grilled cheese style) and place them, face-down, in a pan. Toast them to your liking. Meanwhile, heat your beans in a pot or in the microwave - make sure they're VERY hot. When your buns are done, remove from the pan. Immediately cover the bottom bun with a thick layer each of cheese and then beans (the beans will melt the cheese - if you're using thickly sliced cheese, you can also throw the bottom bun + cheese under the broiler for a minute or two). Spread some sour cream on the top bun.

Throw on the rest of your ingredients on top of the beans. I mashed the avocado on there and then stuck the jalapenos on top of that so everything would stay together, and then top it all with the tomato, onion, and lettuce.

Manny's tortas can't be beat - I don't know what his secret is - but these pleased both myself and my husband (I was worried - Manny's is pretty much his favorite sandwich and one of his all-time favorite meals EVER). I served them with tortilla chips and a little homemade tomato salsa that I made in the blender (make to taste: tomato, fresh jalapeno, onion, a bit of garlic, lime, cilantro, salt - blend). Delicious, and the fetus approved of my offering...hopefully we can both move on to a new craving now. And, fetus, it would be GREAT if you could try craving something that I can get in my own zip code.

Does this baby make me look fat?

Goldfish with gas

The other night, I felt the baby move. I'm certain of it. It felt like a tiny fish fluttering around in the front of my lower abdomen...quite different from gas but, I suppose, easily mistaken for it. Matt said it was probably just gas. I said no, it was definitely a fetus. Matt said maybe the baby had gas.

A funny story that will eventually end in a baby.

I got pregnant in Laos and then, ignorant of my condition, proceeded to enjoy the various beers of Southeast Asia for the next couple of weeks during our Laos-Vietnam road trip. After a few weeks, I woke up in our hotel in Saigon with strange symptoms and pains that convinced me it was time to take a pregnancy test. The weather was a miserable 95 degrees F with 100% humidity or something, so we planned to go to a movie that day and enjoy a few hours' respite from the heat in a nice, air-conditioned Southeast Asian movie theater (on a side note: they do movie theatres right in that part of the world.) So we stopped at a little pharmacy and bought a couple of tests on our way to the movie, which I planned on taking when we got back to the hotel that night.

About 1.5 seconds after we sat down in the theatre, Matt turned to me and suggested that I go ahead and take the test in the bathroom so that we could stop freaking out about them. Vietnamese pregnancy tests are of the pee-in-a-cup variety. Yes, I peed in a cup while balanced over a western-style toilet with eastern-style footprints on the seat...and it was positive. Of course, I immediately took the other test as well - not an easy task, balancing and all, while convulsing violently with adrenaline. By the time I went back into the theater, I was officially a pregnant lady and I had missed about 10 minutes of Ironman II - not that it mattered or that we could pay attention to any of the rest of it. We were pretty distracted, anyway...but Mickey Rourke's face will always take me back to that special day...

The little old lady who ran the pharmacy was SO excited when we returned to her shop that night to purchase prenatal vitamins.

My first bouts of morning sickness started on a ferry boat from Phuket to Ko Phi Phi. The worst day was the day we decided to take a morning snorkel trip - I didn't know yet that I needed to carry food and eat every hour or so, so I got horribly nauseous, and there was no respite (nauseous in water, nauseous in boat). The snorkeling was still pretty awesome, though. Around this time I suddenly became repulsed by the idea of Thai food of any kind. I spent one of our very last days of vacation lying in bed in a yucky budget hotel room and only woke up to force-feed myself some pizza that my sweet husband managed to get for me.

I was finally able to eat Asian food again just the other night - about three months later.

Moments after taking the test:



Oops, I was pregnant and didn't know it:









Morning sickness during and after the snorkel trip from pregnancy hell (AKA "all I want is garlic bread" or "hurry up and take this picture before I vomit off of the side of this longboat"):