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Category Archives: Baby S updates

** This is such a self-indulgent post. The reason — although I don’t owe you one because it’s my blog and I can blog if I want to — is because I wanted to put this down in words to put in her baby book. However, handwriting it out? Well, ain’t nobody got time for that.

When we went in for our appointment at 32 weeks, my blood pressure was elevated. My legs and feet swelled up over night and I went from gaining a steady .5lb a week to 8lbs in two weeks. The next week, things were just as bad. While the situation wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t great. The baby’s heartbeat was strong and she was very active. I, on the other hand, had borderline pre-eclampsia.

When my blood pressure continued to climb, I was put on modified bed rest. That turned into “just go to work and go home and rest” rest, which turned into “Seriously, Heather. Stop doing laundry and going to Target and lay on your couch, on your left side, feet elevated and only get up to pee” rest. They wanted to get me to 36 weeks, which was Christmas day. In order to go to my parents’ for Christmas, I had to promise Jason that I’d relax the whole time we were there.

I was scared. Scared we’d have a premie. Scared I was doing something that was hurting her. Scared we were going to have a baby nearly two months earlier than anticipated.

Fast forward to week 38 – Tuesday January 7th. I had been pulled out of work by that point and we were at the doctor’s twice a week. That Tuesday, my blood pressure was higher than it had ever been. Bed rest wasn’t helping. I was sent to spend the night at the hospital to be monitored. Our doctor warned us that he wasn’t sending us there to have the baby, but that he wasn’t saying we wouldn’t have her either. If my blood pressure didn’t go down, he was going to have to induce me Wednesday morning.

I was upset. I didn’t want to spend the night at the hospital. I didn’t want to be induced, but I also didn’t want to keep going the way we were going. I felt like there were no options that made me feel good about the outcome.

So I spent all day and night Tuesday in a bed at the hospital, with Jason in a chair beside me. My blood pressure started going down. Our doctor came in Wednesday morning, at 7am and told us that my blood pressure was down, he was sending me home but that I needed to go back to the office the next day to be checked again. I was irritated. I was sooo done with the every other day at the doctors. I was done with all the “You’re not horrible, but you’re not great either” and the “Let’s just get you one more week.” Done done done.

Our doctor walked out of our room and literally two minutes later, I thought I had a contraction. Naturally, nobody believed me. I was not at all dialated, and I hadn’t been having contractions before that. Jason and I watched the monitor and exactly five minutes later, I had another contraction. Five minutes after that, another contraction. A resident came in to check me and assured me that it was most likely Braxton Hicks. He checked me and I was 1cm dialated. Nothing, he told me. But they’d keep an eye on it. The contractions continued to get stronger and continued to be exactly 5 minutes apart. He came in an hour later and I was 2 cm dilated. An hour after that, I was 3cm dialated. “Ok then,” he said. “You’re now in active labor. At this point, you’re not going home without your baby.”

Um, what? Three hours earlier, they were sending me home because I was fine. Now I was in active labor?

“You’re so stubborn. You LITERALLY just made your body go into labor because you didn’t like what they told you,” Jason said.

The contractions began getting stronger. They started to hurt. Really hurt. I changed my mind. I didn’t want to do this anymore. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, or a in a few days.

“I want to go home now, ok?” I asked Jason.

He laughed and told me that’s not how it worked.

“But when you don’t feel good, you go home and you feel better. I don’t feel good. I want to feel better. We should just go home.”

Needless to say, that didn’t fly with him.

I couldn’t get comfortable. I was in my bed. I was out of it. I was walking around. I was sitting. Bent over. Standing. Guys, contractions suck.

They moved us from our room into labor and delivery. When I get in there, I was immediately hooked up to an iv and asked if I wanted something to “take the edge off.” Um, yuh. I want the edge GONE. I want a damn circle. No edges. Give me all the things. They pumped me full of something and, I blame cinema for this one, I expected immediate relief … which did not come. But, the drugs. Why weren’t they working? Why was I still feeling this pain? Should they give me more? I thought they should. They told me they couldn’t. Well, that was some bullshit. By that point, I was 5cm and it was recommended that if I wanted the epidural (more drugs! no edge!) we should get ready for that.

I was ready.

The epidural was something I had been very scared about. Naturally, I wanted it because I don’t do well with pain and, also, hey, if they’re handing out drugs, I’m all about soothing via medication. If I have a cold, I open up our medicine cabinet and make a cocktail of things that are in there — NyQuil, Sudafed, some Rolaids. I don’t care. Something will work. So naturally, I wanted something to control my pain during child birth.

The worst part of the epidural was that Jason had to leave the room. He pretty much hadn’t left my side in over 24 hours and now I had to face this big, scary, possibly paralyzing needle without him. But I was brave and kept reminding myself that the braver I was, the quicker I’d be free from pain. The procedure was actually fairly painless and soon, the contraction pain was subsiding. It didn’t go away totally, but it was a million times better than it was. I finally felt like I could breathe for a minute.

Relief that should have lasted hours lasted about an hour and a half until I started having back labor – which, apparently, science has not created drugs for. Say what?! Why can you stop the pain in my stomach but not the pain in my back? Science is a man.

The good news was that I was still dialating close to 1cm an hour, which the exception of a couple status-quo hours. The doctor came in and told me that pretty soon we’d be pushing, which is when I had a mini panic attack. She was going to be coming out of me. I had to get her out. I did NOT want to do that. I wanted the whole thing to be over, and I was being reassured that it WAS almost over. But what the nurses and my husband didn’t understand was that I wanted it to be over without actually having to push.

I have heard horror stories about women actively pushing for hours. I couldn’t deal with that. At that point – around 10 pm on Wednesday – I had only had 3-4 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours. My body was now my newest enemy and I couldn’t fathom actively pushing for hours. It wasn’t going to happen. I laid there with my eyes closed, breathing through contractions and telling myself that it wouldn’t last longer than half an hour. I’d do a great job, the baby would do a great job and it would NOT take hours.

The doctor told me I’d know when it was time to push and I was skeptical. Guess what. Turns out this wasn’t his first rodeo. I most definitely knew when it was time to push. After the first push, I started hyperventilating. I couldn’t do this. This was the only time Jason yelled at me. My breathing was affecting the baby’s heartbeat. Slow, deep breaths kept her heartbeat strong. Quick, shallow breaths caused it to drop pretty dramatically. When I started hyperventilating, it went down and quick. He put the oxygen mask on me and pretty much told me to cut my shit and focus on breathing. Right after this, the doctor pretty much informed me that I could be doing a better job pushing (this also had to do with my breathing.)

At this point, I realized that I had two choices. I could continue to half-ass this situation, but that would mean being in pain for literally the rest of my life (which is literally how it felt). Or I could put every ounce of energy into this thing, fighting through the pain and reminding myself that the harder I worked, the quicker it would be over and our girl would be here.

According to Jason, my doctor and the nurse, I was “doing great.” Sure didn’t feel that way. And it felt like it was taking forever. I tried to keep my eyes closed and not look at the clock, but I was sure I could feel the hour passing. But then the doctor saw her head. And then she was almost out. And then she WAS out! A quick smack on her back (our doctor was kicking it old school) and our lady was crying.

“Is she born?” I asked Jason through tears.

ameliaHe kissed my head and told me that yes, she sure was born. Ten fingers. Ten toes. After he cut her cord, she had to be taken away for a minute because she wasn’t having the easiest time breathing, which was quickly taken care of by one of our amazing delivery room nurses.

Before I knew it, she was putting my baby on my chest. My baby who was just inside of me. My baby who had spent countless hours squirming and kicking inside of me, was now out here, in the world, with her mama and daddy.

What a beautiful, bizarre moment.

We had a couple of names picked out, but one strong front-runner.

“So, what do you think?” Jason asked. And I nodded, knowing what he was talking about without him having to say it.

“Hello, Amelia Jean,” he said.

Fifteen or so minutes after she arrived (at 11:19 pm on Wednesday January 8th), one of our nurses came into our room. She had been with us all day and left five minutes before we began pushing to help deliver another baby. When she came in, she was disappointed she missed it.

“How long did you push for?” she asked me. I wasn’t sure. “Like an hour, I think. Maybe a little longer?” I answered.

Nearly in unison, Jason, our doctor and the other nurse all said something along the lines of “Um, no. Not even close. Like fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.”

Could have fooled me.

And just like that, I was the mother to a 5lb 9oz, 19 inch little human.

Welcome to the world, our little Amelia. It’s not always happy and it’s not always easy. In fact, there aren’t a lot of things that are “always” in this life, but I can promise you one — your daddy and I will always love you.



Remember that time I said that this wouldn’t turn into just a pregnancy blog and then I went ahead and used all of my wit and funny and creative insight into life for my freelancing gigs and then left this poor guy just flailing in the wind, only touched when I wanted to document my pregnancy? Yeah. Me too. Oh well. Thems the breaks.

Guess what, guys. I’m 30 weeks. 7.5 months, fool. That means I’m almost done — or so they tell me. Frankly, I don’t believe anything I hear about pregnancy. Although, I suppose they’re right in saying that she HAS to come out at some point.

30 weeks pregnantWeek: 30 – Baby is as long as a cucumber

Food cravings and aversions: I’m having an issue with chicken again. I was over it for awhile, but it’s back in action. Other than my run with Friendly’s in the beginning, I haven’t had a strong craving for anything — up until a few days ago. I would have sold this baby to the first person to bring me hot, buttered rolls. But these were very specific rolls I was looking for — the kind from Ponderosa. Which was sort of an inconvenient craving, considering there isn’t a Ponderosa remotely close to us. My husband tried to help by stopping at the grocery store and coming home with two different types of rolls that he hoped would cure my fever. It didn’t, but they were close enough.

Baby items purchased/received: Our house now runneth-over with baby items. I still need to post about the shower at some point. This week in particular, we started hanging up her clothes and organizing her closet, so lots of baskets and bins were purchased.

buddy-the-elf-meme-generator-santa-oh-my-god-santa-here-i-know-him-i-know-him-38970dFavorite moment: I’m not sure it’s scientifically possible yet, but I think this little lady is already a daddy’s girl. She’s in a pretty good groove of when she’s active (10 – 11, 2 – 4, 7:30 and then again around 10 at night). But if Jason is around during one of her “off hours”, she starts kicking up a storm. I assume that she gets very excited to hear a voice that’s not mine. Whenever she does that, I pretend she’s Buddy the Elf – “I KNOW him!”

Another favorite moment was on Sunday, when we really started to put away all of her prizes from the shower. She has her own little closet with her own little wardrobe. Weird!

Thoughts: I believe they call it “nesting”. Our house is a mess. Always a mess. Even if it’s clean. I’ve been throwing away and giving away stuff like it’s my job. We just have too many things — all the things need to go. I’m also actively concerned about labor and delivery. Anyone who would like to add their two cents of “It’ll all be ok. It’s not as bad as you think.” can just keep those two cents for their next rainy day shopping trip, because I don’t want them. I have a human being who sleeps and grows inside of me and pretty soon, she has to come out of me. Nothing will cure my anxiety on this one. I’m just hoping that it sort of gets pushed to the back of my mind while I thrust myself head first wobble into the holiday season.

week 30 2Everyone gives their pets a voice and a personality, correct? Correct. Well, Bumble thinks that the baby is named Bumblina. He also thinks that he’s pregnant, just like me, and his baby is named Bumblina 2. What can I say? He’s lucky he’s handsome.

cinderella birds

Here’s my weekly pregnancy post, which you can find at http://herdaily.com/parenting/

Today, I’m six months pregnant. I have something the size of an ear of corn living inside of me. That is a very big size of something to be living inside of you. We had a check-up yesterday and got to see our little lady, who always plays shy for the camera. I love her. And I’m really ready for her to be out here and not in there.

I’m almost done with my second trimester and I’ve never reached the promise lands.

For those of you unfamiliar with the different phases of pregnancy, there is an urban legend out there that the second trimester of pregnancy is a glorious place, full of unicorns and no morning sickness (and an increased appetite for, um, “attention’ from your spouse). During the second trimester, you are rich with energy and spend your days giving off the most heavenly glow of pregnancy. You have a perfect bump and your feet aren’t swollen. Your pre-pregnancy jeans fit with the help of a belly band and your t-shirts are snug, but look precious covering up that stomach of yours. Everything is glorious, perfect. You are woman, creating life. Things couldn’t possibly be better.

I’ve labeled that rumor as an urban legend because I have yet to experience it. I doubt I will.

I will even go a step further and admit something that I haven’t heard many say — being pregnant sort of sucks.

Now, before you go ahead and rip me a new one as you lecture me on what a precious gift I am about to receive — trust me. I get it. And I started this post saying I already love little Lady S., correct? I’d puke every day for nine months (which I may end up doing anyways) if it meant bringing our happy, healthy daughter into this world.

But that’s where I want her — here.

I haven’t yet had a glorious day of pregnancy. I had a wicked first trimester. I woke up the morning of my second trimester with the hopes that things worked like a Disney movie. Perhaps a little blue bird was going to come to my window and sing away all my pregnancy troubles.

No such luck.

I’m tired. I’m so damn tired. And I know — I’ll be tired after I have the baby, too. But here’s the thing — at least there is a reason to justify that tired. You’re caring for an infant. You’re chasing a toddler around all day. Right now, I spend much of my time sitting at a desk. But I leave work every day craving a three hour nap.

And food? We’re frenemies nowadays. I spend nearly all of my waking hours despising it — the smells, the textures. Everything turns me off. Then, around 9:00 every night, I want to eat everything. Except nothing ever sounds good. Do you even understand that frustration?! (But if you’re my husband, don’t answer that. It may frustrate you more than it frustrates me.)

I wake up 3 – 5 times a night to pee.

I’ve gained weight and my pre-pregnancy pants have been relegated to a bottom drawer because they no longer fit my pudgey (NOT bump-tastic) stomach. But maternity pants? They don’t fit yet either! I feel like Goldilocks, except nothing ever fits just right.

I’m grouchy. I’m moody. I cry over everything.

They say the best things in life are worth waiting for, right? Gosh, that’s a lot of pressure to put on an infant.

(She better not let me down.)


(Not really kidding.)

Photo: Disney.wikia.com

My latest pregnancy post on HerDaily.com, in case you missed it —

pregnant woman crying

We were simply sitting on the couch, watching TV. The Husband turned to me, smiled and said “I love you.”

Tearing up, I told him I loved him too.

He started to laugh. “Are you going to cry? Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. Because I’m happy. I don’t know. I’m having a rough week.”

“Buddy, you’re having a rough pregnancy,” he said as he gave me a hug.

He was right. I knew that my hormones would be all over the place while pregnant. And I’m a pretty emotional person to begin with. But I just never made the connection; never assumed that I’d be one of those pregnant ladies, crying several times a day. Crying ateverything.

I’ve cried because I told the dog he smelled but then felt sad that I hurt his feelings.

I’ve cried while watching a woman deliver her surrogate baby (which was really hers) on a soap opera.

I’ve cried because the sheets didn’t fit our bed the right way.

I’ve cried because I wanted to eat a red apple and all we had were green apples.

I’ve cried because I was happy to see my husband come home after a long day at work.

I’ve cried because raw chicken now makes me throw up and so I felt guilty that I couldn’t cook dinner.

I’ve cried because, while at a festival, a woman told me that fresh lemonade was $4 — which was the exact amount of cash I had on me. But then I found out that it was really $5, so no lemonade for me.

cry baby tissues

I’ve cried because I wanted to have Pizza Hut breadsticks and salad bar for dinner, but ours was closed. To settle me down, The Husband drove to another Pizza Hut — but that one was closed, too. (Plan = backfired.)

I’ve cried as I was unpacking groceries because I realized that the mini-muffins I just bought had an expiration date of two weeks and I thought that the grocery store was trying to pull a fast one on me.

There are times when I suddenly feel a surge of emotion — either sorrow or elation, and begin to cry. Nothing has prompted these moments. They simply are. And that’s hard to explain to my husband, who is very proactive. If I’m crying because I want a red apple and we only have green, he’ll offer to go out and buy me a red apple. He’ll drive to all of the Pizza Huts in a fifty mile radius. But when there’s nothing to fix, he feels a bit lost. Luckily, we’ve both realized that all I need is a long hug and the tears will soon pass.

I hope that same tactic can be used on our daughter.

boy or girl

Did you miss the 21 week update I posted on HerDaily.com last week? If so:

Before we were even pregnant, The Husband had a very strong stance on finding out whether or not he was going to have a boy or a girl — and his stance was absolutely not. Ever. Never, ever.

I, on the other hand, am one with little patience. I had ventured into the unknown, unprepared. However, I decided that if not knowing was that important to him, then I would get on board with it. Eventually, I did.

So, naturally, approximately ten minutes after telling The Husband I was pregnant, he responded with, “Ok, so we’ll definitely find out what it is as soon as we can so that it’ll be easier to plan…”

He didn’t have to twist my arm. I was quickly on board.

We spent weeks throwing out names and debating the gender. Right away, The Husband was Team Girl. On the other hand, I was absolutely positive it was a boy. Usually, I have great intuition, so I was confident that I was correct. The problem was our name selections. We came up with our girl name the night we found out we were pregnant. I threw out a first name, he threw out a middle name and we were in love. We came up with a couple of runners-up, but our first name was pretty solid. It was a boy’s name that was giving us trouble.

Right away, we both knew we didn’t want anything trendy. No Aidens, Braydens or Caydens in this family. We wanted something strong and traditional. The problem was that idea was that no name really jumped out at us. Every other day, it seemed, one of us would look at the other and randomly announce “OK, this week “X” is my top boy name. What about you?”

While we tried hard to wittle down our list of names, we became anxious waiting to find out for sure if we even needed to bother thinking of a boy name. One evening, we Googled old wives’ pregnancy gender tales. And then proceeded to try/answer them all.

Craving sweets? It’s a girl. Salty? It’s a boy: Sweets – girl

Chinese astrology chart, taking into considertaion my age and the month baby was conceived: Girl

Clear skin? A boy. Breaking out (stealing mom’s beauty)? A girl: Girl

If dad is having weird cravings, too, then it’s a girl: Yes, he is. Girl

If you have morning sickness, it’s a girl: Horrible morning sickness. Girl

A heartbeat above 140 is a girl: Heartbeat always hovering around 160. Girl

If you’re moody, it’s a girl. If you’re happy, it’s a boy: Mood swings like you wouldn’t believe. Girl.

The baking soda test: No fizzing. Girl.

At this point, I started to waver in my faith that it was a boy. Other than my insistance, nothing pointed to boy. I started daydreaming of a precious little girl, with our perfect name. If we went into that ultrasound and found out that the baby had the same anatomy as its daddy, I planned on suing all the old wives — all of them — for misleading a consumer.

It turned out no lawsuits were necessary.

We’re having a little girl.

We’re going to have a daughter.

Turns out those old ladies knew what they’re talking about.

I’ve been very busy blogging over at http://www.HerDaily.com . Because of that, I’ve neglected my own blog and my tens of readers. You can follow me there by visiting the site daily or by liking Her Daily on Facebook.

You can find my pregnancy week 19 update here. In it, I talk about my lack of a baby bump and how it’s consuming my life. (Spoiler alert — a week later and I’m looking a little more bumpish, although not much.)

Today, I posted a week 20 update here. We found out the gender yesterday!

20 weeks pregnant fruitWeek: 20 – Baby is the size of a banana, although I hope that’s not a very accurate description.

What baby is up to this week: Your baby weighs about 10 1/2 ounces now. It’s also about 6 1/2 inches long from head to bottom and about 10 inches from head to heel — about the size of a banana. (For the first 20 weeks, when a baby’s legs are curled up against his torso and hard to measure, measurements are taken from the top of his head to his bottom — the “crown to rump” measurement. After 20 weeks, he’s measured from head to toe.)

He’s swallowing more these days, which is good practice for his digestive system. He’s also producing meconium, a black, sticky by-product of digestion. This gooey substance will accumulate in his bowels, and you’ll see it in his first soiled diaper (some babies pass meconium in the womb or during delivery). So, pretty much our baby is preoccupied with poop this week. Ah, it’s father’s child.

Food cravings and aversions: I haven’t really had too many cravings. When I do, they vary by the minute. There was a hot second where I was dying for some good old, Utica, NY tomato pie, but that quickly subsided. Today, the only thing that sounds edible to me is popcorn.

Baby items purchased/received: It was my birthday last week, and my family showered me with lots o’ maternity clothes. Apparently, everyone is expecting me to grow a bump. That will happen, right? My brother and his girlfriend bought me Chicken Soup for the New Mother’s Soul. The Husband has limited my reading time on that one, because, as you can imagine — all.the.feelings. Baby S.’s Aunt Allee and Uncle Ryan picked up a monster t-shirt. I also went shopping with Grandma S. and Aunt Sara — needless to say, we left the store with a few bags. Lots of onesies, some jammies, some bibs, the bedding and a hamper. We went back a few days later with Grandpa S. and The Baby Daddy to order the crib and a dresser. Guys, this is a real, live baby now and it needs a place to sleep! Also, a place for all of the clothes it is quickly accumulating.

Heather and CarolineFavorite moment: Actually, my favorite moment was attending Miss Caroline’s first birthday party. It was amazing to see how much she has grown. She’s her own little person now! And pretty soon, we’ll have our own little person speed crawling around our house. The Husband and I slept over. I especially loved watching the Moore family’s routine the next morning. That sounds creepy, but its not, ’cause they love me and, also, we brought their baby lots of presents so they were obligated to be hospitable. In my mind, having a baby means that your house is in a constant state of chaos. They showed me that wasn’t so. C woke up as happy as can be, which means that it’s impossible for anyone else in the house to be grouchy because, hello gorgeous giggling baby! We had some coffee and just hung out while C played with a few of her new toys. It was very calm and a great way to start our day. I can’t wait to have Sunday mornings like that in my own household!

Thoughts: Relief that we have a crib and a dresser to put in our Little Monsters themed nursery. Yes, monster themed. No, not like Predator or Freddy Krueger. Yes, like those precious little Halloween monsters you find at Target. Jason thought of this awhile ago and we both quickly decided that it was a fun, unique, gender-neutral nursery theme. And now we’re only 4 months away from a little baby living in there!

PINKY promise this won’t turn into a “mommy blog”. Buuuuut, every week most weeks , I’ll be doing these updates. If they bore you, feel free to go ahead and wait for the next post. But you probably shouldn’t skip these, because we all know how funny I am and, also, Discovery Channel is live in my body RIGHT NOW! Don’t you care about science?!

week 16 pregnancy sizeWeek: 16 – Baby is the size of an avocado

What baby is up to this week: Get ready for a growth spurt. In the next few weeks, your baby will double his weight and add inches to his length. Right now, he’s about the size of an avocado: 4 1/2 inches long (head to rump) and 3 1/2 ounces. His legs are much more developed, his head is more erect than it has been, and his eyes have moved closer to the front of his head. His ears are close to their final position, too. The patterning of his scalp has begun, though his locks aren’t recognizable yet. He’s even started growing toenails. And there’s a lot happening inside as well. For example, his heart is now pumping about 25 quarts of blood each day, and this amount will continue to increase as your baby continues to develop.

Food cravings and aversions: I still wouldn’t turn down a Friendly’s quesadilla, although I haven’t had one since last time. As previously mentioned, I’m into donuts, although I’m trying not to be. No real food aversions anymore. Well, I still can’t look at raw chicken, but once my lovely husband cooks it for me, I can eat it.

Baby items purchased/received: Not much this week. A couple pairs of feety jammies, which are incredibly precious. And Aunt Linda bought Baby S. a bedtime book about mama and baby animals, which is so cute and thoughtful.

Favorite moment: Man, the last couple of weeks have been pretty lame, I guess. I’d say that it was feeling some flutters, but I’m still not positive I did. It may have been gas. But I think it was the baby. But also, possibly gas. I will keep you updated on both the movements of our tiny human and my flatulence.

Thoughts: That this baby is going to be born and will come home and live at our house and omg our house isn’t ready for a baby! We’re working on putting together a calendar of projects we want to complete, including: cleaning up the basement, hanging cupboards up in our spare bedroom for our linens (they’re currently in the dresser that will be the baby’s), a pseudo-bathroom remodel upstairs (which includes a paint job, adding a new vanity and fixing up the tub) and possibly painting the baby’s bedroom based on the gender (We should find out the beginning of September. The room is currently a lilac so if we find out we have a little lady moving into our house, the room may stay that color.)

(I didn’t do a 15 week (a navel orange) update because not much has been going on around these parts. My little, teeny tiny bump has pretty much stayed the same since week 14. I’d like to believe that at this point in the pregnancy, status quo is a good thing, but what do I know?)

I PINKY promise this won’t turn into a “mommy blog”. Buuuuut, every week, I’ll be doing these updates. If they bore you, feel free to go ahead and wait for the next post. But you probably shouldn’t skip these, because we all know how funny I am and, also, Discovery Channel is live in my body RIGHT NOW! Don’t you care about science?!

baby week 14 lemonWeek: 14 – Baby is the size of a lemon

What baby is up to this week: Your baby can now squint, frown, grimace, and possibly suck his thumb! Thanks to brain impulses, his facial muscles are getting a workout as his tiny features form one expression after another. He can grasp, too, and if you’re having an ultrasound now, you may even catch him sucking his thumb.  From head to bottom, he measures 3 1/2 inches and he weighs 1 1/2 ounces. His body’s growing faster than his head, which now sits upon a more distinct neck. By the end of this week, his arms will have grown to a length that’s in proportion to the rest of his body. (His legs still have some lengthening to do.) He’s starting to develop an ultra-fine, downy covering of hair, called lanugo, all over his body. Though you can’t feel his tiny punches and kicks yet, those little hands and feet are more flexible and active.

Food cravings and aversions: I think this is the first week where I’ve SERIOUSLY had a craving. I went to Friendly’s for lunch with a girlfriend last weekend, with my mind randomly set on a chicken quesadilla and mashed potatoes with gravy. BUT FRIENDLY’S RUINED EVERYTHING. We went at 11:45 and they serve breakfast until noon on Sundays. What?! After some unsuccessful attempts at coercion, I was left to order a bagel. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my lunch that would never be. Later in the day, after listening to me talk about it for hours, Jay had me order it to-go and he went and picked it up. Awww, amirite?

A few days later, nobody felt like cooking. Where did I want to go to dinner? Friendly’s. What did I order? A chicken quesadilla and mashed potatoes with gravy. I could have had it for dinner yesterday, too. And I certainly wouldn’t mind eating it today. But our bank account and my waistline have other plans, so I’m going to try to limit our Friendly’s trips to once twice a week.

where the wild things are toys stuffed animalsBaby items purchased: Over the weekend, we went down to the city for a concert and to visit friends (and to deliver them our big news in person!) We made a run into FAO Schwartz, with hopes of buying my “niece” (my bestest’s little girl) a birthday present. We came across a clearance bin, with puppets from Where the Wild Things Are. I picked up two and made my first official purchase for our little guy/gal. (They go along with our nursery theme. Can you guess it?)

Favorite moment: Lots of favorites this week. Going to a Jay-Z & Justin Timberlake concert at Yankee Stadium, while 3 months pregnant, in 103* heat will be a memory that neither of us will forget (Sorry for crying at a concert, Jay. But it.was.so.HOT!). Telling Jason’s best friends (since childhood) that we were pregnant was awesome. And, of course, making our “official” announcement to the rest of our family and friends. It’s all still a little surreal.

Thoughts: One night this week, we were bored and looked up gender predictions based on old wives’ tales. Jason read off 8 different tales, and every single one of them pointed to the same gender. We even did science! I peed in a cup and added baking soda. Whatever. If the cup fizzed, like a shaken bottle of soda, it’s supposed to be a boy. If it doesn’t do anything, you’ve got a little girl.

Guess what, guys? Zero fizzes. This REALLY threw me for a loop, as it agreed with all other tales that we were having a girl. I have been adamant since day one that this little baby is a boy. And I am never wrong don’t like being wrong. But a little, tiny, girl?! If we find out it IS a boy, I’m writing ALL the old wives – all of them – and calling them out for the frauds that they are.

Also, I’m starting to get a little bit of a bump. Sooooo, that’s weird.

pregnancy week 14 lemon