Reagan June

It's A Girl!


And now, let the shopping (or more appropriately, "wish-list-making") begin!

Half-Baked.

Tomorrow, Chris and I pay another visit to the doctor. (Whomever coined the term "pay a visit" obviously had the same health insurance that I do.) My March co-pay is due, and I'm going to have Chris write out the check because my hand is likely to cramp halfway through- it's that big a number. And really? For the relationship Dr. J has with my girl parts, he should at least take me out to a nice dinner.

Aside from draining our bank account of most of it's heft, the objective of the visit is to have an ultrasound. This is the ONE TIME where I will openly encourage my child to PLEASE, for the love of God, flash them genitals!

Hey you in there, are you a girl? If you are, your uterus is already formed, and you have all the eggs that you will release throughout your entire life. That means I am potentially carrying not only my daughter, but all future grandchildren as well. No pressure there.

Are you a boy? Are you mad that I make us watch really corny TV shows? Do you hate it when Maddy and I listen to pop songs performed by women? Are you going to grow up and hate your father and me because we're middle-naming you Pirate? Um... am I growing a penis in the depths of my belly?

I am just barely past the halfway point in this pregnancy, and I've felt consistently ok for the last week or two, which is a huge improvement. Let the fun begin!

Aww...

This has to be one of the cutest, affordable ways to decorate a wall. WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS? I might want to tweak the concept and use it for the nursery...

I'm naming my libido Punxsutawney Phil.

My sex drive awoke Thursday night.
"Why, there you are, Mojo! I was about to file a missing person's report!" I said to her.
"Ah, no need to worry about me. I just took a short vacation. I know you've been feeling horrible lately, so I fled town for a little while, went to the Poconos. While you were throwing up and suffering debilitating headaches and intermittent depression, I was drinking Pina Coladas out of a coconut shell and being fanned by natives as I worked on my tan. But I'm back now, and ready for action! So should I clock in? I can't wait to get back to work."
"Uh... about that, Mojo... I'm really glad you're back, but I think you're going to have to take the night off. I have to go in to have my cervix checked out tomorrow, and I'm not supposed to be getting any action tonight. As much as I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR COMPLIANCE, would it be too much trouble if we rescheduled for tomorrow night? And the night after that? And three times the next day? I've got a lot of catching up to do, here. You have certainly been missed, and now you're going to be working a lot of overtime to compensate."
"You're the boss!" exclaimed my libido jovially. "Just tell me when the coast is clear! I've got big plans for us!"

Little did we know, the next day would bring ominous news from my doctor. He wanted to do a biopsy, and because they removed part of my cervix, sex is out of the question for the next week, and strongly cautioned against for the rest of my pregnancy. It's like my poor libido popped it's head out after a long hibernation, saw her shadow, and realized that there would be six more long weeks of winter. (I've got more details from yesterday over here.)

Had my doctor sprung this news on me oh, say, yesterday- before my mojo came back to town- I would have thanked my doctor for giving me a legitimate reason not to feel guilty about the lack of amourous motivation. Now? Well, now I want to throw something.

This whole "trying to be optimistic" thing really isn't working out for me too well. Although I really am looking forward to my next move- waddling to the kitchen and helping myself to an oatmeal raisin cookie. HEY! People eat oatmeal for breakfast all the time, stop looking at me like that.

Craving style more than pickles.

Chris and I were shopping yesterday, and against my better judgement, we popped into a maternity clothing store. (Which was located right next to a store called The Dress Barn- and I'm sure the merchandise was interchangeable.) 30 seconds later as we were running out of the place, I pulled him close to me and hissed into his ear, "This store makes me want to adopt."

This is the universe's way of making up for the whole "You Can't Ride A Camel" thing.

I've made it no secret that I'm not having an easy time with this pregnancy. (I think the sky-writing and the billboard I rented really drove that point home.) However, all the fun I've been having complaining is starting to wear off, so I think I'm just going to try to be postive and see where that gets me. I'm a little scared- the last time I tried to be positive (see the cheery entry of 2/11/7) I spent the following day crying in bed and then- when I finally ventured out of the house- I threw up in a plastic cup. So I'm not really sure if my body can handle optimism without protest, but I'm not getting any better so I'm willing to give it another go. (I think I just gave Fate the middle finger.)

So, to keep things all butterflies and sunshine, here are 5 Inanimate Things I'm Happy About.

1. Ben & Jerry's American Pie Ice Cream
Apple-cinnamon flavored ice cream with bits of apples and pie crust. Oh. My. Business. I am petitioning Chris to name our baby Bennen Jerry Cantwell.
2. Yogi Ginger Tea
Ginger is a homeopathic cure for morning sickness, AND it's caffeine free, so I've been drinking this instead of the decaf tea I brew at home. If I could only find the Lemon Ginger flavor, I'd be happier than a pig in poo. The regular ginger isn't horrible, but it is kind of strong. If I let it steep too long, I just feel like I'm drinking piping hot ginger ale, and not in a good way.
3. Izze Soda Made with fruit juice and sparkling water, it's a pretty healthy choice when I feel like something sweet. I am in love with the grapefuit flavor which tastes exactly like Squirt, and the apple flavor, which you won't be able to distinguish from Martinelli's.
4. Cupid's Chokehold by Gym Class Heroes. ("I know I'm young but if I had to choose her or the sun, I'd be one nocturnal son-of-a-gun...") Also, in music- Cold War Kids.
5. These hand-sewn Monster stuffies made for my little monsters by the Wonderful And Ceaselessly Amazing Andrea. I love you Pookiepants, even though I know I'm pushing the limits by calling you that.

And although quite obviously not inanimate, I get most of my happiness from Chris, who fixes things when I'm gone and fixes me when I'm here. Thank you for letting me keep the corny Santa Claus toilet seat cover on year round, for your spot-on analysis of American Idol, and for blowing on the spoonful of ice cream I gave you because I threw you off when I said apple pie.

And to Thing One and Thing Two: More nights like tonight, please. But GO TO SLEEP! I CAN HEAR YOU!

Weeks 17 & 18

Loads of important stuff is happening in my belly. Allegedly, the Opportunistic Symbiote is 7 ounces, which is about the amount of alcohol I like in a Long Beach Iced Tea. (Moment of silence for The Good Old Days, please. OK.) He/She/It is about 6 inches long, although by the size of my belly, you'd think it was 6 feet. As for me? I am still suffering through horrible headaches. I was reading online today and came across a couple of articles that theorized about headaches in pregnancy being caused by caffeine/alcohol/nicotine withdrawal. Since I cut out all of those cold-turkey, it makes sense. (That's kind of a lie, I still have a little caffeine as a treat occasionally, but I stay way under the recommended 300mg a day limit.) I told my doctor about the headaches and about how hormonal I am. He said I could take as much tylenol as I wanted, and that my body was just having a hard time dealing with the surge of estrogen. I almost showed him a surge of estorgen right up his DONT MIND ME ITS THE HORMONES TALKING. Right after the doc told me I was at the mercy of my estrogen, he told me that my stomach was about four weeks larger than average. DOCTOR JACOME HAS A DEATH WISH. Care to see the big belly? If not, er... close your eyes. That's it, right there! It's the big humongous white thing next to the precious little girl who really needs a manicure. And now, I have a hot date with my sanchos, Ben and Jerry. In closing, I leave you with a photo of what my baby looks like at this point, approximately. Keep in mind that my actual baby is MUCH cuter.

Why I Think This Baby Is A Girl:

Because I just watched Uptown Girls with Maddy and cried like a baby. The only explaination? I must have TWO vaginas.

An open apology to the minivan whom I inconvenienced when I was pulled over on the side of the road vomiting into a plastic kiddie cup:

I'm sorry.

(Sorry I didn't feel up to chasing you down, finding where you lived, and giving you a piece of my mind. I, however, was too under the weather to be able to keep up with you. [When I say "under the weather," what I really mean is that I was filling up Maddy's CPK Kids cup with Pringle-scented upchuck.] I feel that your kind gesture of honking deserves some kind of reciprocation, and so, for that, I'll just silently curse you forever. I can't believe there are people in the world who have their heads so far up their asses that they are going to honk at a pregnant woman puking on the side of the road, when my car was not obstructing traffic and my hazard lights were on. To top this all of- it was a MINIVAN! Who drives a minivan without being sympathetic to the plight of a pregnant woman? The only people who drive minivans have already popped out a number of kids themselves, right?

I am forced with no other option than to learn how to hone my barfing skills, so that the next time this situation occurs, I can projectile vomit at passersby. Really, this isn't the worst idea I've had all day.

Oh, and remind me never to tempt fate again by posting an entry like my previous one. I should know better!

Take me with a pillar of salt.

This whole pregnancy schtick I'm milking right now?
Yeah, I know I complain a lot. I know I'm maybe a wee bit snarkastic. (Hey hey, see what I did there?) I would like to just state, for the record, that I have been feeling a little bit better lately. The morning sickness has dwindled, although if I ever meet the person who coined it "morning" sickness, I will strangle them for false adveritising. I'm still getting the headaches, but I'm not on my anti-painkillers crusade since I cross referenced over four dozen websites making four-doubly times sure it was ok to take Tylenol. Tylenol and me? We're like long lost best friends. If Tylenol started a cult, I would join it, that's how deeply I believe in The Cause. I look very very pregnant, but I found some clothes that actually fit around the belly without making me look like there's a circus being set up in my shirt. Now it just looks like I'm hiding an Oompa Loompa under there.

Most importantly, now that I'm getting a better handle on how I feel physically, I FINALLY have the energy to actually be excited! Now I can think about fun stuff like how cute Chris is going to look holding our baby, where as a week ago, all I could think about was "Oh god, where's the nearest bathroom?" I am so ready to start enjoying this, I've been waiting impatiently and hoping that I would make it to the point where I wouldn't be constantly bedridden (or couchridden) and afflicted.

I can't wait. Every day, something little happens to show me that I am the luckiest woman on the planet. Here's what it was today:

TheValSlayer [7:12 P.M.]: Shugga, I don't know what the hell I did with my phone charger and my phone is dead.
+17604857297 [7:16 P.M.]: Did u look behind the wine and decanter
TheValSlayer [7:16 P.M.]: Why would I look there? That's the last place I left it, I wouldn't possibly be there. OH MY GOD HOW DO YOU HANDLE ME???
+17604857297 [7:31 P.M.]: With ease baby

Although, I will admit, I am kind of worried that Chris isn't a human being, but an alien in disguise. He's a little too perfect.