Where The Wild Things Are

Do not go. I'll eat you up, I love you so.

K.W.

Ryan and I went to see Where the Wild Things Are this weekend. [Check out that link if you get the chance- it is super cute] The movie was gorgeous. I absolutely loved it. There were certainly things that could have been done better but any imperfections were entirely forgivable. I have not even come close to getting emotional about a movie in years... yet I found tears running down my face numerous times while watching this one. Granted, crazy preggo emotions could very well have a bit to do with that, but... it was also a very touching experience.

I think one of the most powerful things for me was watching Max. The opening scene shows him tearing through the house after his dog in his infamous wolf costume. He is screaming like a banshee and wielding a plastic fork as a weapon. Ironically, the dog is a black poodle very similar to our poodle hybrid, Fezzik. As he tackles the dog and the screen freezes on his wild, dirty little face, I just looked at Ryan... and he looked at me and we smiled nervous smiles. Because I believe it dawned on both of us at the exact same moment that... we are going to have one of those. In our house. ALL THE TIME.

In this aspect, the rest of the movie served to both delight and terrify us. This little boy was all boy. I know Ryan felt like he was watching his own childhood unfold (although Max was probably a bit more spirited than my love- introverted child that he was). The character was so full of so many things. It astounded me how complex this little creature was capable of being. His imagination was incredible. He was so rough and loud and messy... and yet, you just wanted to hug him for being all of those things. One minute he is a holy terror and the next he is as sweet as pie and I just kept shaking my head at the grand realization that my life is going to be so full of this so soon. Needless to say, the scenes between Max and his mom got to me the most.



It is amazing what they did with such a simple children's story. They managed to stay true to a book that contains so few words and yet expand and create this entire, amazing world. It was very good and you should see it. That is all.

In other news: my appointment with the Regional Obstetrical Consultants has been set for tomorrow morning at 8:30 a.m. I work on Tuesdays and usually will reschedule anything that interferes with that because 1. I do not like calling in and 2. We need all the money we can get. However, I really do not want to try to reschedule. I just want to get this over with.

My doctor has been so careful to assure me that this is just a precaution and that he does not think there is anything seriously wrong with Liam. He has never once used a term that has set off red flags in my mind... so, of course, leave it to the receptionist to mess with that. On Friday, after taking my blood sugar test, I walked up to ask if she had made the appointment for me. She pulled out my chart and said, "Oh yeah... I forgot: you are going to the high risk center." Gah. "High-risk" is not a term I really needed to have floating around in my mind.

Of course, I am not going to the center on a regular basis; I am going to have a single ultrasound done using their crazy awesome equipment, which my doctor does not have, to determine that everything is flowing well through the placenta. Prayfully, it is and my doctor's initial assumption that Liam is just genetically predisposed to being small is correct. I do not mind having a small baby (I mean really.. how crazy would I have to be to WANT a bigger head to shove through my vagina?) - I just want him to be healthy. And right now, I do not geniunely feel that I have anything serious to worry about. Yes, of course, it is on my mind and I have been doing everything I can from my end to help if possible. [I got the ridiculous six-a-day prenatals, I am drinking Boost and eating large quantities of fruits and vegetables, trying to rest more, etc., etc.]; however, it is also hard to be seriously concerned about the well-being of a child that is capable of making you grimace and moan as he kicks you hard in the bladder... or ribs... or intestines.. or wherever else his precious foot may land, and whose heartbeat can be heard loud and strong through a stethoscope (which he resents for invading his space and makes it very clear where he thinks you should stick that damn thing).

In my opinion, Liam is determined to make it into this world. He is a strong little sucker. He was conceived against the odds, survived 9 weeks of my complete oblivion to his existence and has proven that he is not taking no for an answer. I think he is going to be just fine... but I will not turn away your thoughts and prayers either. :)

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The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.

In the sick room, ten cents' worth of human understanding equals ten dollars' worth of medical science.
Martin H. Fischer

Well, the good news is: my doctor does not believe the pain in my abdomen is anything serious. He poked. He prodded. He listened to me breathe. He did an ultrasound (to check on Liam). He then came to the perplexing conclusion that I may have acid reflux. This diagnosis confuses me because I explained that I get frequent heartburn and the two pains are nothing alike. When I mentioned this he said, "Huh? Really?" and then handed me the name of an over-the-counter medication for acid reflux. It makes me think that perhaps I did not accurately describe my symptoms: the pain does not get worse after I eat, it is not a burning sensation in any way, I do not have nausea or vomiting, and the only things that relieve it are Tylenol and warm compresses. It feels like I broke my ribs, not like acid is trying to claw its way out of my stomach. However, I am willing to give it a shot. I am pretty much willing to give anything a shot.

It is very good to know that my blood pressure is normal (ruling out preeclampsia), the doctor does not believe it is my gallbladder, and, as far as I know, there was no sign of infection in my urine (ruling out a bladder or kidney infection). I am honestly surprised about that one. I have a history of bladder/kidney infections. [Bad ones. Really bad ones. And often. As in... on and off antibiotics ever since an undiagnosed bladder infection landed me in the hospital and weakened my kidneys almost three years ago.] Yet, I have not had one since getting pregnant. Or, if I have, the doctor has not mentioned it, and it has not been bad enough to cause the symptoms I am used to. I find that really interesting.

The bad news is that there is no magic get better pill that will make it possible to get more than three hours of sleep a night, or make it easier to breathe, or stop sneezing from being the most feared moment of my day. I am now carrying around a small pharmacy in my purse: Tylenol, Zantac, a thermal heating pack, Tums (which I suppose the Zantac will replace), and my prenatal vitamins. I am feeling rather defeated.

More bad news: Liam's growth has not picked up. He is still measuring very small. I was watching the screen as the doctor measured him because as he clicks and drags on various body parts, the estimated gestational age based on the measurements adjusts on the screen. From what I could tell (with my limited knowledge, mind you), he is measuring about 2-2.5 weeks behind what he should be. I am going to have to go sometime next week to a special ultrasound which will determine if something is wrong with the blood flow through the placenta and slowing his growth.

But back to the good news: I specifically asked the doctor this time if anything seemed abnormal. He said very emphatically that no, the baby looks just fine. There is nothing wrong with him at all. He is developing normally- he is just really small. He also said that it is very likely that it could simply be genetic: he is going to be a little guy. That is his best bet and he does not believe he is missing anything, but he wants me to get this ultrasound just to be safe.

So I am going today to take the glucose test. I am going next week for that extra ultrasound, and I have now officially started my two week visits so I will be back at my regular appointment the following week. Man... that's a lot of doctor in my life.

Oh, well- I should really be grateful. I was nervous walking into that yesterday. The nurse made it sound very serious. I asked if it could wait until my regular appointment the next day and she said no, I needed to get there as soon as possible. Of course, once again no one in that office communicates with each other because the doctor walked in and began a normal appointment with me until I stopped him to explain that I was there because of some unexplained abdominal pain. He looked surprised: I was not. We will never, ever, ever be going back to this practice. This is at least the fifth time that a lack of communication has caused problems- this being the mildest instance. And it makes me nervous because if they can't even manage to talk to each other.. what aren't they telling me?

And the ugly? Well, I guess there really isn't any... unless you count my face. It is looking pretty rough due to sleep deprivation. I am working extra hours today and have been trying to figure out a way to turn "let Michelle take a nap" into some form of entertainment for a preschooler, toddler, and baby but... no luck yet.

Sigh. Fridays are my day to get things done around the house. And, more importantly, to have the bed to myself for a couple of hours after Ryan goes to work in the morning. But.. money makes the world go 'round. Unfortunately, it does not make my brain function any better. Case in point: I just sat the baby in his high chair with a banana... and no bib. I am now the proud caretaker of a completely banana covered baby, of course...who is apparently feeling as cranky as I am today. He has been awake for thirty minutes and already managed three meltdowns. Where is my sweet, docile, kissable chubster when I need him?

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I Spoke Too Soon

Here is a picture of my delicious, nutritious breakfast because I know you care. I had Special K waffles with lite syrup and banana, a bowel of grapes and OJ- to give Liam a bit of exercise. It was yummy... but that is not at all what this post is about.

Last night, my abdominal pain came back with a vengeance.
I got about 3.5 hours of sleep and spent most of the night crying and moaning and keeping my poor husband awake as I tried various positions to no avail. Around 2:00 a.m., I made my way to the handy-dandy Wal-mart and picked up a thermal heating pack (with patented clay technology!) and it helped slightly... but I still woke up at 6:00 a.m. wishing for a huge tranquilizer dart or some Vicodin or something. That is when I realized that this must be more than normal pregnancy discomfort.

SO.. this morning... I did what any good 20th century girl does in my position: I googled it. (As a side note: isn't it interesting how "google" has become an accepted verb? Hmm.. I find language fascinating... because I am a dork.)
And I have to say... I am not pleased with what I found. This was enough to scare me, but along with various other websites with taglines such as "abdominal pain in pregnancy is never normal," etc... and then going to my OB/GYN's website and reading "severe abdominal pain that is not relieved by a bowel movement" on the list of reasons to call IMMEDIATELY, I have absolutely decided to call my doctor.

Ug. I am a little upset. I asked my mother about the pain and I think she is so focused on keeping me from worrying about ANYTHING that she underplayed it. If I had been aware of all of the awful things it could be an indicator of I would have called days ago. I just thought I was being a horrible baby... and maybe I am... but it would be good to know, don't you think?

Now, Liam's movement has not really decreased so I know that as of now he is probably still doing fine... but what if something is going wrong- something that can be caught early and treated? And I have gone over a week with this pain and not bothered to call because I thought it was my back and then I thought it was my own wimpiness and then when I started to worry I was told not to. By a nurse! Gr.

So.. now I am just watching the minutes tick by until 9:00 a.m. when I can call- I am at work so while I am sure they are going to insist I come in, I won't be able to until 3:30 p.m.... and then I will have to skip class to do it. But I guess this is when my resolution to get my priorities in line and stop worrying so much about school is tested.

Sigh. Oh, the drama- the DRAMA!

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Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.

On a bad day, I have mood swings- but on a good day, I have a whole mood playground.

Charles Rosenblum

Today has been a wonderful day. The weather is absolutely gorgeous and good news has come left and right.

First of all, my Latin professor told us last night that no one did very well on the midterm. He used a very cute airplane metaphor and declared that, since he was the pilot, he does not blame us and will be counting our next test twice and throwing this grade out. You could feel the relief flood the room and now I will have until November (the date of the next test) to get my act together!

Also, my Senior Seminar midterm has been cancelled entirely! The professor has been ill for the last three class periods and does not feel that it is fair to spring a test on us at this point. He will instead be distributing the percentage between a rough draft of our paper and the final. Awesome!

On top of this, the pain I have been feeling has sort of eased up. My belly and back are still aching and my neck is rather stiff, but it is feeling more like regular pregnancy pain and less like OMG! I AM GOING TO DIE!

Did I mention that the weather is perfect?!

I took a few belly shots with my parent's camera- I am always a few days behind the actual weekly marker but these are technically for 28 weeks.

That's all for now. Since class was cancelled again tonight, I am going to try to get home early enough to spend the evening with my husband. Wow. An evening with my husband- it is quite the luxury these days.

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Over It

Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.
Newt Gingrich

So, I have to say.. I am feeling completely over being pregnant right now. But at the same time, I am not even remotely ready for a baby.

I sort of just want to hang my pregnancy up in the coat closet for a little while and walk away. Maybe I will have some dinner (consisting of massive quantities of sushi and salad with loads of feta), a nice glass of wine (or two.... or three), a good book, and a soak in an ultra-super hot jacuzzi... and then a romp in bed with my hubby wearing the lingerie I did not get nearly enough use out of (with the lights on).

The only problem is... it would be so hard to step back into my current body willingly.

It is really quite pathetic when you consider the fact that I have had a nearly symptom-free pregnancy up until.... I don't know.. LAST WEEK! Wow. I am a baby. One week of really bad heartburn and muscle pain and swollen feet and exhaustion and I am ready to throw in the towel. I seriously admire women who make it through nine months of a difficult pregnancy- especially those that do it all with a smile on their face. I need to meet you.. and be humbled... and take notes.

My stomach has been on strike the last couple of days. On Thursday night I had a dinner of about 72 chocolate cookies (I know, I know! But my mom made them- homemade and right out of the oven. I was weak!) and Hot Tamales (I have no excuses for this) and then on Friday, we had Arby's for lunch and pizza for dinner. I am generally a pretty wholesome eater so my body does not tolerate junk food very well if it is not balanced with the good stuff. So I've been on my best behavior ever since but it seems I really messed up and it is not going to forgive me so easily. Gah. I do not need to be adding to my own discomfort.

Whenever I mention that I am sort of tired of pregnancy, I am told reassuringly that it "won't be too much longer now." However, I have to admit that this is not really that comforting. Giving birth is not a walk in the park, and the discomfort does not end the minute the baby pops out... of your vagina... which is where his massive head will be squeezing through. Get the picture? There is a lot of healing you have to go through and, as all pregnant women are CONSTANTLY reminded of, your body will 'Never. Be. The. Same.'

Yeah, thanks for that upper.

On top of this, you then have a little, tiny, helpless being that is entirely your responsibility. And they just hand it to you and you have to take it home and keep it alive. I mean... shouldn't there be some sort of screening for this?! We went through a more rigorious process to aquire our DOG.

And then there is all the hormone fluctuations and the crying and the cracked nipples and the sleepless nights (either because the baby is getting up to eat.. or, if you are like me, you will be staring at him to make sure he is breathing).

The end of pregnancy is really just the beginning of something else, you know. It is almost as if people forget that.

I haven't.

Ah, well... I suppose I am just having a grumpy moment because I am currently BREATHING FIRE. And that lovely pain in my abdomen will not go away without Tylenol- which I know is safe but would prefer to avoid if possible. But it is either that or no sleep and I think the latter is more dangerous, especially considering how often I find myself driving long distances and my tendency to doze off at the wheel.

Good things really did happen this weekend and I have nothing to whine about. Last night, my lovely McKenzie drove up to visit me with her husband and brother. She is my sunshine. It was a lovely evening.


After they left, my baby brother drove up and spent the night. We went to church and then he treated me and Ryan to lunch at The Blue Plate because he is smooth like that. Then we treated him to coffee and dessert at Rembrandt's.


[As a side note- as I'm sure you can tell.. most of my pictures are not exactly current. The reason for this is that the computer on which our photo downloading software is located is not currently set up in the new house so.. once we get that done.. or get a new camera I will be including many more current photos of the happenings of our daily lifes. Hopefully it will be very, very, very soon. I miss it!]

After Ethan left and Ryan headed to the haunt, I made some fruit salad and shared a bit with our rats (yes, we have rats:: and yes, it's on purpose:: and yes, they make amazing pets:: and yes, we WILL be keeping them after the baby is born. Don't judge!).


I then cuddled up in bed (no, not with the rats) and watched the first disc of the second season of House, which Ryan had gotten for me on Netflix to keep me company while he is away.

It was really a pretty good weekend.
So... you know.. I shouldn't be moaning. Ignore me.
The end.

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Days Like This

Sometimes you're the windshield and sometimes you're the bug.
Mark Knopfler

The last couple of days have been nothing short of miserable.
On Tuesday, I came millimeters away from dropping out of school and, in fact, have yet to make a decision about whether or not I will stick with it. However, after 5+ years toward a degree, dropping out 2 months before the end seems absolutely crazy...

I have two midterms in Latin today. Because of all the craziness surrounding the move I got very behind in my Latin studies. Though I have been working hard ever since that time, language is so cumulative- you can't really make up for time lost. Failing a midterm is basically sealing your fate. I learned this my sophomore year after misreading the time of a final and showing up 30 second AFTER it was over. My professor turned a deaf ears to my pleas for mercy and, although I had a B in the course up until that point, that one F caused me to flunk the entire class. It is the only F I have ever gotten in my entire life on anything besides a 6th grade math test. And it sucked.

I can't remember a time any longer when my life was not hectic. It has been at least a year and a half. Things have settled down for a brief period.. but they are really only going to get worse from here. We start our Prepared Childbirth Classes next month and we have less than three to get ready for Liam. His nursery is a complete mess and we have very little of anything we actually need for him. The house is also still not in working order; things - BIG THINGS- have to be done before the baby gets here because, otherwise, they just will not get done at all. Or they will be done poorly. I have a 20 page senior seminar paper that will be due near the end of the semester in which I basically have to prove I am ready to graduate and which I cannot settle on a topic for. I also have to create an online portfolio of my entire college career- a nearly impossible task considering the scattering of my education. I will also have 3 finals- plus any normal assignment that comes up. On top of this the commute alone takes 8 hours (and two entire days when I stay with my parents) out of my week.

The problem is.. this is not an "if at first you don't succeed" situation. I pretty much have one shot to get it right or my academic transcripts are marred forever. If I were to withdraw and return later- I would have a much better chance of succeeding and I would not have to worry about making up for failing grades. But I just can't bring myself to give up either.

On top of this, the stress is considerably overwhelming. I have been in similar situations before and, besides a fair amount of whining, I handled it with no problem. I have worked full-time while going to school full-time and trying to plan a wedding. I have been making the trek back and forth between Kennesaw and Chattanooga for two years. But being pregnant makes everything more difficult. Waking up, getting out of bed, focusing on school, just moving my large body from place to place is a challenge... even the drive is uncomfortable.

I got about 4 hours of sleep Tuesday night; between worrying about what to do and this strange pain that has made its way into my abdominal muscles, I was tossing and turning. I spent the ENTIRE DAY cramming for these tests and I figured last night, I would pass out with no problem. I was nodding off against the cart at Wal-mart, waiting for Ryan to pick out the type of hot dogs he wanted (although to my credit, it took the man 7 full minutes to decide- I mean.. seriously?!). But that was not to be- after crawling into bed at 11 p.m., I woke up clutching my stomach in pain. I am guessing that my abdominal muscles are seperating... it is the only thing that makes sense. I went to look at the clock, praying that it would be almost time for me to get up anyway because I knew I was not getting back to sleep and when I saw that is was only 1 a.m.- I pretty much broke down. Then I found myself boiling water in an attempt to get a bath warm enough to tolerate (our water pressure at the house is horrible and lukewarm at best). When that did not help, I tried a warm washcloth and finally at 2:30 a.m. made my way to the drugstore for some Tylenol and heatwraps. They seemed to work somewhat and I finally nodded off around 4 a.m.- waking two or threee more times to pee before the alarm clock started blaring at 7 a.m.

When I get to work this morning- I find out that my boss had told me the days of their vacation wrong and I could have had the day off (which would have been wonderful because I really need more time to study for my tests) but "since I was here anyway"... I get to hang out with all four kids while they run errands and stuff, which would be nice except it hurts to move and I am exhausted and I really, really, really need to study.

I am feeling very squished at the moment- definitely the bug running headfirst into the windshield. I am not entirely sure how to handle it all. Ryan is worried about the baby- he has been the one encouraging me to stay in school (along with my parents) and all of the sudden he is whistling a different tune after looking up what stress can do during development. Considering Liam is already small, I have to admit I am a little concerned as well.

My mother went crazy for a minute Tuesday night and told me she thought I should quit too.. but then sent me a text the next morning begging me not to.

It is a lot to figure out and I do not have a lot of time to do it in.
And... I am being beckoned to go play monkey in the middle.

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The Home Stretch

Pregnant women! They had that weird frisson, an aura of magic that combined awkwardly with an earthy sense of duty. Mundane, because they were nothing unique on the suburban streets; ethereal because their attention was ever somewhere else. Whatever you said was trivial. And they had that preciousness which they imposed wherever they went, compelling attention, constantly reminding you that they carried the future inside, its contours already drawn, but veiled, private, an inner secret.

Ruth Morgan

Today...*drum roll please* I enter the third trimester. And as a wonderful present for making it this far, pregnancy has decided to punch me in the face.

Let's review, shall we:

Last night, between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m., I woke up four times to pee, thereby doubling my usual number of nocturnal bathroom excursions. Each time I propelled myself from the bed I noticed that my back and neck and feet were getting achier. At 4:00 a.m., I got into the shower in an effort to relieve the discomfort which had somehow climbed from a dull ache to a throbbing pain in a matter of two hours. While waiting for the water to get warm I stood in front of the mirror and noticed that not only am I breaking out in places I did not even know it was possible to break out in... but my nipples are now leaking at a fairly alarming rate (well, at least when compared to the rate of leakage a couple of weeks ago... namely.. little to none.)

The shower seemed to work but then I had to take three Tums before laying back down to try to sleep because I made the mistake of drinking a glass of water. Just as I started to drift off... Liam decided to practice his hardcore dance moves on my diaphragm. It felt a little something like this:

I finally fell asleep around 6:00 a.m. and then lugged my whale self out of bed around 9 in order to make an appointment. (It was for my CAP classes at AAA Women's Services.. which I will blog about one day soon because they are amazing.) I got up, got dressed, ate breakfast, got into my car, went to my appointment... walked inside... and then realized it was for NEXT WEEK.

Actually, that is not true.

I never realized it was for next week- I had to be told it was for next week by a very confused receptionist because Liam is stealing all my brain cells and, at the rate he is going, he better be a freaking genius. You think I am kidding.. but I am not: it is genius or bust.

So, I decide to go work on some homework (not actual homework.. which I should work on.. but AAA homework, which is much more fun). I start reading a pamphlet about bonding with your baby and there is a section titled, "Dad's Important Role." It is maybe two paragraphs about the relationship that can form between a father and his baby... and.. of course... I start bawling. Not quiet, normal "oh, how wonderful life will be" sniffles, but full-blown crazy preggo sobbing. In the middle of Starbucks. For approximately three minutes. And then I was fine.

In addition to all of this, I am pretty sure I spent the afternoon experiencing my first authentic Braxton-Hicks contractions and they were rather uncomfortable and it suddenly occured to me that one day in the not-so-distant future... I will actually be going into labor.

It also occurred to me that I have absolutely no experience with significant amounts of pain. I have never had stitches or broken a bone or had appendicitis. I have never even had real menstrual cramps. I did have pretty extensive jaw surgery when I was 18 but it was elective and the painkillers they gave me were basically amazing. It was mostly just uncomfortable because my mouth was wired shut for 8 weeks and my face blew up like a balloon... but I really did not feel too much as long as I popped my pills on time.

I mean.. my mom talks about how I never fell when I was learning to walk- I would lower myself to the ground gently... and the first time I skinned my knee I limped for a week. To this day, stubbing my toe or cutting my thumb is an earth-shattering event. I can sulk over it for hours.

So I don't do well with pain... at all, really. And I am beginning to think I might be a little naive to believe that I can walk into this situation which includes some of the most intense pain anyone ever feels ever in their life with absolutely no working knowlege of pain in general... and do it without intervention. I just don't know.

Well... anyway, the third trimester seems to be welcoming me with open arms. It honestly terrifies me to think about how fast the next three months are going to go by... but it is exciting at the same time. It is amazing how many changes Liam will be going through... and me too for that matter. We will see how it goes, eh?

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The Stuff of Life

It sometimes happens, even in the best of families, that a baby is born. This is not necessarily cause for alarm. The important thing is to keep your wits about you and borrow some money.

Elinor Goulding Smith

Every Tuesday after class I stay over at my parent's house because I have class again Wednesday night and nothing in between so there is really no point in making the trek back up to Chattanooga at 10:00 p.m. and returning to Kennesaw half a day later.

I usually bring a load of laundry with me and spend the day washing clothes, doing homework, and getting sucked into the cable vortex because, when all your television is capable of producing is that manic snow, even commercials are entertaining. And then you find yourself saying things like, "Hey! Have you seen that commercial where that mom finds the rollover minutes in the trashcan? It is so ironic and funny!" and people look at you like you are crazy because apparently that was ironic and funny about six months ago when it first aired and now it is just irritating. I generally watch Law and Order:SVU and Animal Cops.... or random home improvement shows and talk shows... because that is really all that is on in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, but, hey... beggars can't be choosers.

Anyway, all that to say.. THIS Wednesday is different. I have a load of laundry in the washing machine and as soon as I transfer it to the dryer (and make myself look like a human) I am off to register at Babies R Us.

Ryan and I discussed it and decided that, since I have a lot more tolerance for long shopping excursions and since I am also pickier about what we get for the baby, I will make the initial registry and then he can edit if he so chooses. (He said he did not care either way.. but I am pretty sure I heard a huge sigh of relief when I said I did not mind going alone.)

I got that suggestion from a book called first time Mom . It is honestly the best book I have read so far. It is amazingly simple and direct- just an honest look at one woman's complete experience. She really spares no details and she includes a TON of really helpful lists. She explains EVERYTHING from the moment her water broke (which, for her, happened before she went into labor) until her son was about 6 months old. I picked it up at the library and immediately knew I wanted it to keep... though I have yet to get my own copy. Sigh.

We already have a registry at Target but it is mostly for our family and ourselves as most of the stuff on that one are big ticket items like a crib and breast pump. I am really looking forward to creating this one because it will include all of those little things we will be using every day. Besides, I pretty much love browsing baby stores.. although, I can almost guarantee I will find at least ONE thing on sale that I just have to get. It is inevitable.

It is really incredible how much stuff one little, tiny baby needs. The day we found out we were pregnant, Ryan and I picked up a book at a used bookstore for 50 cents- the entire book is just a checklist of stuff you need to keep your baby alive. It doesn't even include any of the fun stuff like toys and books and cute little baby overalls; just the basics... and It. Is. An. Entire. Book.

All I can say is... THANK GOD FOR GRANDPARENTS!

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Round and Round She Goes

Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be.

Carrie Fisher

I do not even notice how much my belly has grown until I look back on pictures and see how much it has expanded in just a couple of weeks. It is honestly very bizarre... and I am surprised I have yet to experience a single stretch mark. *fingers crossed*

I suddenly have this new found appreciation for Santa Clause, with his "broad face and little round belly." I mean... how does the guy do it? Spending an entire evening lugging around a sack full of toys and going up and down chimneys with that gut?! I can hardly bend over to tie my shoes! And shaking like a bowl of jelly every time you chuckle just is not as jolly as they make it sound. Seriously. I respect that man.

And now, ladies and gentlemen.... I have an announcement to make:
*Ahem*
Are you ready for this?

.....I... have a.... mullet.
A mullet. Did you hear me? A MULLET.
Yes, my friends, a full-blown mullet. It's true.

I had recently decided to grow my hair long again as I have heard repeatedly the the ability to throw one's hair up into a pony tail rather than shower comes in quite handy when adjusting to life with a newborn... but since it has been over three months since my last haircut, I figured I needed to go in for a small trim just to make sure it was healthy.

Apparently.. going three months without a haircut is not such a great idea because your ends can split up and up and up... and then your "trim" just to "get it healthy" turns into four inches of length whacked off the back of your head. So.. there is that. And.. I probably should have been suspicious when I realized that the hip 40-something stylist with the pink, spikey punk hair that I ended up with had a star shaved out of the back of her head and bejeweled jeans- but... I wasn't. So there is that.

However, I did not fully realize the extent of the mullet until I got home. At which point I stood in front of the mirror for a good five minutes completely and utterly stunned. I then began to laugh hysterically.. because really, what else are you going to do?

I suppose when she realized that I was disappointed in how much we were going to have to cut off, the hairdresser decided to leave as much length as possible wherever possible- and so... MULLET.

And here I reveal it for your viewing pleasure:



Let me be honest in saying that these pictures do not fully capture the mullet-i-ness of this haircut. But it is hard to do that on my own since it is hard to snap pictures of the back of one's head and as we all know... THE PARTY IS IN THE BACK!

Oh, well... so is life.

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Oh, Happy Day

Cheerfulness is the very flower of health.
Proverb

So.. Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE living on the North Shore? Love it. It is absolutely perfect.

Chattanooga has to be one of the best places to raise a kid. Yesterday, I picked up Chattanooga Parent Magazine and was looking at all the free fall activities for kids coming up and got so freakin' excited! It is really incredible. This city is full of awesome opportunities for kids to explore and learn and play... and, as an added bonus, Liam and I will be able to walk to most of the awesome stuff we want to do. Seriously. I can't imagine a better place to be.

Ryan and I had a fantastic day yesterday. We don't generally get to spend large amounts of time together this semester because our schedules are entirely conflicting. When we realized that we had no commitments and could spend the entire day together, it was like...whoa.

We went to church and then headed over to the Hunter Art Museum. The first Sunday of every month is free, by the way; another awesome point for Chattanooga. (They also had live music- very cool.)

[As a side note, I would just like to say that I have discovered I appreciate art that takes what I will refer to as "actual talent." While I will admit that slapping some paint on a canvas and then coming up with an elaborate and pretentious meaning behind it that includes pain and/or isolation, an extensive vocabulary, and a good dose of "mommy issues" takes some measure of creativity, if I can go to any kindergarten classroom and see pieces at the same technical level... you lose. In other words- the temporary "New York Cool" exhibit sucked the big one. ]

After that, we headed home to eat lunch and watch a silly chick flick because my husband is a good sport. We then promptly fell asleep, woke up two hours later, realized we were starving, and met my best friend Caleb and his friend from school for dinner. We then got ice cream and watched Firefly for the rest of the night.

Yeah. It was basically the perfect Sunday. And exactly what we needed.

Also, I am surprised and happy to report that I have not been worried about Liam at all. I like to pretend he is doing his best to reassure his Mama because while he is usually fairly stubborn- moving only if and when he darn well pleases- he has been extremely active this weekend. My mom gave me a stethoscope so that I could listen to his heart and every time I have placed it on my tummy he gives it a prompt little kick so that even if I am unable to find his heartbeat, I know things are fine.

I have been taking my multivitamin religiously, along with the DHA supplements I never used. Fezzik and I have been walking to the park every day and I have been making myself eat copious amounts of fruits and vegetables- no more skipping meals! I am also refusing to stress.. which is actually a lot easier than I thought it would be. I honestly feel really good.

I should have let myself just be pregnant months ago instead of plowing on like nothing had changed. My mentality has definitely shifted. I have had an extremely easy pregnancy and I should be grateful for that. For the most part it has been an enjoyable experience and, instead of enjoying it, I have fabricated things to be upset about. But.. I can still enjoy the rest of it and I plan to.

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99

Faith is a bird that feels dawn breaking and sings while it is still dark.
Rabindranath Tagore

Is it not interesting how the minute you resolve to do (or not do) a certain thing... you are immediately tested?

As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I decided to stop giving into my fears concerning this pregnancy and Liam's health. Up until today those fears were completely unfounded- I was really worrying for nothing beyond what my own imagination created. And so, as life works, the minute I made the resolution, I have been faced with a real trial.

Today we were told that Liam Eliot is about 10 days behind schedule in growth. The doctor did not seem overly concerned and simply said they would be keeping a close eye on him from now on and asked me to return in three weeks. Of course, he did not say NOT to worry about it either... which I did not notice at the time, but which I now wish I had heard.

I am proud to report that I did not panic. I did not hyperventilate. I did not break down into tears. In fact, I still haven't. Though I have had to fight it back a bit.

I called my mother- who is a wonderful nurse, worked with mother/baby and in hospital nurseries for close to 20 years, and is quite educated about such matters- and asked her to remind me that everything is going to be fine. Which she did. She also reminded me that most people do not see their baby at every visit as Ryan and I have and so many times variations in growth rate would go undetected at such low levels.

I looked up some information... and it settled my mind a little on the matter. Nothing I read made slow growth seem like anything to be scared about- except at extremes. I did see that stress, lack of exercise, and poor nutrition can contribute so I have decided to make these things an absolute priority. And beyond that, I am just going to have faith- in three weeks my precious boy will be all caught up. He is going to be just perfect.

It is definitely a test. I am determined to pass it.
And I will take all the help I can get.

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Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Of all the animals, the boy is most unmanageable.
Plato

Okay. So. Today... it has hit me like a ton of bricks just how HAPPY I am to be having a little boy.

I mean... Really. Freaking. Happy.

As I say on a regular basis: my life is complete sausage-fest. I spend the majority of my time with my husband and besides that, my best friend is a boy... in fact, most of my friends are boys, my only sibling is a boy, even all of our pets are male! The only women I spend consistent amounts of time with are my mother and... a three year old.

So when we found out we were pregnant (after the initial heart-stopping, jaw-dropping shock of it all wore off a bit) I was really, truly hoping for a girl. And people would say to me, "Oh. You don't really care do you? I mean... as long as it's healthy, right?" And I would say (or at least think in my mind while I nodded and smiled placidly), "Yes. Actually I do care. And if that makes me a horrible person, then so be it... because you are not the one who has to live with constant MAN PARTS floating around you all the time and never have anyone to turn to and say, 'Hey. Want to go shopping?' without getting a colossal eye roll unless you add, '... for video games, action figures and/or sports memorabilia' to the end. And while I understand that some woman have been trying for years to get pregnant and, once they do, they feel so blessed to be having a child that they really, honestly have no preference and I get that and I admire them- I am not one of those women so I really can not relate. I did not want for this at all in fact.. and so, I am sorry, but would it be so much to ask to be able to have a little girl I can paint toenails with and giggle with and play princesses with and all those fun little girl things that mommies and daughters do together?!"

Also, I do not remember a time in my life when I did not think that I would have a daughter first. Also, Ryan was convinced we were having a girl: mostly because he is logical to a fault and every, single member of his family on both sides as far back as anyone can remember has had a girl first. Also, I just really like little girl clothes.

However, about a month before we went in for the ultrasound, I began having dreams that we were having a little boy. And he was so precious and looked just like his daddy. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, a boy would not be so bad. Then I started to get pretty convinced we were having a boy.

By the time we walked into have the doctor's office, I would have been absolutely floored if there was nothing between that kid's legs.

And I was right.

Part of me was just so happy that he was alive and perfect and it really didn't matter- just like they said. Part of me was so thrilled for Ryan because the look of complete shock and amazement on his face as he realized that he was going to have a son was just gorgeous. But part of me was still disappointed. People kept asking me if I was disappointed and I would say no because that is what you are supposed to say.. but I was: it was like watching that little girl disappear.

Slowly, thoughts of that little girl that isn't to be were replaced by thoughts of the little boy that is... and I stopped caring about it at all. And then today, BAM- this overwhelming feeling of joy at the thought of having a little boy hit me out of nowhere. I am so in love with Liam now that if we were to go into our appointment tomorrow and be told that there had been a mistake, I would be really upset. I want him so much.

I partially have the baby boy I take of to thank for this- he will be a year old in a couple of weeks and has just hit his ultra-mega-super cute phase. It is my theory that between 10-18 months babies become the perfect little beings of adorable because they not only have to make up for the months of sleep deprivation they have just inflicted upon you, but they also have to give you something to make it through the terrible two's. And, boy, does this kid have it down.

It is like every little thing he does screams, "Look at how precious I am! You cannot resist my charm and you know it so you might as well give in and giggle with me as I throw colored pencils all over the floor, poop in your lap, chew on plastic lizards and eat dirt!" Because the minute he grins at you, wraps his arms around your legs, or lays his little head on your shoulder you melt and become a huge puddle of person.

Every time he gets up from his nap so warm and cozy and we sit together for a few quiet minutes and cuddle... I just get this warm and mushy feeling and, on those rare occasions when it isn't his full diaper squishing against me, it is the knowledge that my baby boy will soon be here and I will be able to cuddle with him and kiss his precious cheeks and watch him get into all sorts of mischief.

I have a feeling I will be a walking puddle for years.

Besides....little boy clothes are pretty stinkin' cute too.

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Only When We Are No Longer Afraid

The LORD is for me; I will not fear... Psalm 118:6a

Throughout my life, my parents' faith has been a constant source of support and comfort. I have often relied on it when my own faith has failed. It is strange, I know... but even when I am not sure if God exists for me, I have never doubted that He exists for them. I know He will not let them down.

Since the moment I found out I was pregnant I have constantly battled with fear, doubt, and insecurity. It has certainly stolen a certain measure of my joy. I often cannot focus on the wonderful miracle that is happening within me because my mind is so preoccupied with worrying about the health of the baby. I have also kept myself from bonding with him out of fear of falling in love with someone I will never meet. I have been afraid to want him too much. Which is honestly ridiculous because even though he was such a surprise and I did not even know I wanted him... I have never wanted or loved anything more in my entire life.

Last night I went home to my mom and dad to ask for help. I have not been feeling Liam move strongly or consistently for days. While there is still an occasional poke or twinge that reminds me of those first early movements... I can hardly remember what those strong jabs I was experiencing last week feel like. So I find myself headed down the same road I have been up and down throughout this entire pregnancy. And to be perfectly honest... I am just... tired of it. My mind is tired of it. My body is tired of it. I did not feel like I could do this anymore.

When I got home, my dad and I started talking. He reminded me that I have battled with fear since I was a very small child. I would worry myself sick over things I had absolutely no control over- often ridiculous things that made absolutely no sense, like my parents dying in their sleep or whatever it was I imagined lurking behind the shower curtain when it was pulled closed.

When I expressed my exhaustion over this constant worrying about the baby... he made a very good point:

This is a battle I am going to have to fight for the rest of my life.
So I might as well get good at it.

If I keep giving into these insecurities, doubts and fears... I am going to live a pretty miserable existence. Liam Eliot is now a part of that existence; he was from the moment I saw that little pink line in the window of the test and he will be until the day I die- regardless of how long he is a part of my life.

The struggle with fear will not stop when they place Liam in my arms. It will not stop when he takes his first steps or goes to school for the first time or gets his driver's license... or goes to college.... or gets married....

I can't stop the fear from knocking on my door... but as my Daddy put it: That doesn't mean you have to accept the delivery.

When my mom and dad prayed for me, I realized how very familiar that sound was: they have been praying for me my entire life. They know exactly how I am feeling right now because they experienced it for the first time when they found out they were having me.... and they have relied on prayer throughout my entire life; trusting for my safety.

I don't want to be miserable. I want to enjoy every moment I have with my little boy... so I am determined to get good at this. I am not going to give in anymore.

Even though my folks and I don't see eye to eye on everything... I gotta say:: they are pretty darn smart.

My family at my brother's high school graduation in 2008

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Feel the Burn

Indigestion is the failure to adjust a square meal to a round stomach.

Unknown

Oh, man... my chest, as usual, is going up in flames in protest to..well, pretty much anything I put into my mouth. I find myself guzzling milk like it is going out of style and popping Tums like candy..but it only helps temporarily.

I looked up what causes pregnancy heartburn and this is what I found:
During pregnancy, the placenta produces the hormone progesterone, which relaxes the smooth muscles of the uterus. This hormone also relaxes the valve that separates the esophagus from the stomach, allowing gastric acids to seep back up, which causes that unpleasant burning sensation. (You can read the entire article here)

I tell myself that it is payback for my complete lack of morning sickness and, the truth is, I would rather suffer from heartburn every day of my pregnancy than suffer through three months of puking my guts up. So I am trying not to complain.

Speaking of complaining, I am slowly starting to wonder what it is I ever had against my pre-preggo body.

Then:

Now:In comparison to my ever-expanding waistline, new set of thunder thighs, and extra chins... it was so beautiful... and all I ever did was point out all its flaws and tell it it wasn't good enough. I was so abusive! I only hope I haven't scared it away forever!


Dear Body,
After Liam has vacated the premises.. please return to me. I promise to be nicer to you, to compliment you more, and to appreciate all the hard work you do. Remember all the good times we had together? We will exercise and eat right..and I will be satisfied that you are doing your best. No longer will I stare in the mirror, pinching and prodding, critizing your every short-coming, or fussing when you do not fit into that size 4... a 6 is fine, really. I will even take the 8.... I promise.
I miss you.
Love always,
Michelle

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Revalation at 23 weeks, 3 days.

He who has health, has hope. And he who has hope, has everything.
Proverb

I have been thinking lately that I may not being very fair to my body. Here it is, working hard, trying to grow a PERSON... and because it hasn't complained too much, I just continue like nothing has changed.

There is much going on at this moment: work and school take up a lot of time and every spare minute is spent painting, packing, cleaning and (eventually) moving into the new house. We will find ourselves headed over there at 10:00 at night to start our evening's work... and drop into bed exhausted at 2:00 in the morning- only to do it all over again the next day. I have a lot on my mind and spend many restless nights tossing and turning before the alarm goes off at the ungodly hour we have it set for. There is always something to do and somewhere to go... and I truly do not remember what it feels like to spend an evening at home. Relaxing? I know not of this "relaxing" you speak of!

My body finally decided it had put up with enough.. and went on strike this weekend. If it was only here to serve me.. I would most likely ignore its whining and continue on as usual; however, this is Liam's home as well. It was not a fair amount of cramping made me realize that I could potentially be putting him in danger that I really stopped and evaluated the situation. I apologized profusely for my lack of consideration to both him and said vessel and I believe we are back on good terms... However, I have definitely decided I need to make a few adjustments to how I am handling life. As difficult as it is for me to do, I need to cut myself a little bit of slack: rest, hydrate, eat well, sleep often... and stop all that heavy lifting, for goodness' sake!

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The Inevitability of Change

We change, whether we like it or not.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

So far, I have to admit that I have done a pretty terrible job of documenting this pregnancy. After being slammed by about 28 life-altering events in the span of 3.2 seconds, it can be a little hard to find the energy to savor the moments.

I am honestly not sure where my ultrasound pictures are- floating around in my car somewhere, perhaps. The pregnancy organizer my mother got me has three or four sentences hastily scrawled in the margins. My desire to keep a journal of letters for Liam keeps getting put off until "after the next appointment" due to a deep-rooted fear of getting attached to a baby not meant for this world.

However, the drastic changes in my body are the one thing I can neither deny nor ignore- it's happening whether I like it or not.

At 2 days shy of 20 weeks various body parts are expanding in ways I never thought possible. I am finding it difficult to adjust. It is not just the areas I prepared myself for either. It's everything!

My toes are disappearing.

And my face is big and round like the moon.

I have also graduated to the rubber band: looping a rubber band through the button hole in your jeans can give you a couple more weeks in your regular pants. It is quite a trick.

While I cannot say I am thrilled with my new figure, I am attempting to find some comfort in my expanding waistline. I rub my big, round belly and it reminds me that our little gremlin is still growing big and strong. Occasionally it dawns on me that an entire human being is being formed inside of me. He is with me all the time and changing every day. That's pretty much amazing... if you really think about it.

I am still not entirely used to the belly. It is like... I look in my closet and say, "Hmm.. I think I will wear this today and look fabulous," and then as I attempt to pull it down over the mountains and valleys of my body, the belly replies, " OH NO, YOU WON'T!" over the din of ripping seams and popping buttons... and I shriek in terror as the belly laughs an evil laugh.

Or... at least that is how it happens in my head.

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The Beginning

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

- T.S. Eliot

When attempting to begin a running account of your life it is hard to know where to start. Do I start at the beginning? Do I start with today? I haven't got a clue...

Many films begin with a wide shot of a skyline or a sweeping shot of mountains and valleys... usually set to some Top 40 song of the moment. It is practically a staple of mainstream movies. This is used as an orientation for the viewer- so that he or she understands the location of the story.

Because location is important, you know.

So... I, for one, am located in Chattanooga, Tennessee. In my opinion it is quite a lovely place to live- a nice mixture of big city and small town. There is a lot to see and do and plenty of good old fashioned Southern hospitality. You should come and visit sometime.

I have lived here for approximately three years, since right after my 20th birthday when life was beginning to bore me. I moved here... met a boy and fell in love. We got married, adopted a schnoodle and moved into an apartment. Three months later we found out that we were going to have a baby so..... we panicked, which seemed to be the only logical thing to do.
We also bought a house.

But.. maybe there is a bit more to the story than that.

Our son is set to arrive on January 9th, 2010. This is ironically one day before our first wedding anniversary. His name is Liam Eliot, he is quite determined to make it to this world, and he is the most beautiful fuzzy, black and white profile I have ever laid my eyes on. He is also the only person on the planet that can kick me repeatedly in the gut and make me love him so much
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Ryan and I are young. We still have those stars in our eyes and great big dreams in our heads. We still listen to loud music, watch cartoons, pierce random body parts, and laugh when someone farts in public. And we still say words like "fart." Maybe we aren't ready for all of this... but I am not sure I have ever met anyone who was.

Life is taking us in a direction we never saw coming and there are ups and down and loops that make my stomach drop to my knees... but we are doing our best to enjoy the ride.

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