Baby Ticker

22 Weeks

Yes, I know, I suck.

This updating thing is hard. I just forget. That, and there really hasn't been that much going on lately that felt good enough to report.

Last week, I took a much-needed vacation and flew down to Nashville to spend a few days with my wonderful sister, Portia. The flight was mostly uneventful on the way down, although I did come to the painful conclusion that BB3 hates flying. She started kicking pretty ferociously as soon as they began to pressurize the cabin, and continued kicking until we had reached cruising altitude. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind so much, as the kicking is actually kind of fun and feels very cuddly and intimate, but BB3 was positioned in such a way that her tiny little feet were exactly against my lungs, so that is where her kicks landed, repeatedly, in startlingly quick succession. As I said though, she calmed down when we started cruising, and was quiet for most of the rest of the night. Friday I woke up with a nasty stomach virus, and spent most of the day in bed. Every time I got out of bed to make my way to the restroom, BB3 started kicking and flipping around wildly, fearing for what was coming next. Can't say as I blame her, that must be a hell of a ride. Then, when I made it back to the bed, she'd lay very very still, and try not to move for fear it would trigger me to get out of bed again. I felt sorry for the kid, really. Saturday was better, and we made it to the grandparent's for the fabulous Unholiday Party, where I got to see about half of my cousins, whom I usually only see once a year, as well as my uncles and grandparents. And my mother. Yeah.

Sunday, Portia and I went to church to hear my niece, LP sing, and then took her to the bookstore (her Mecca) to spend her gift cards from Christmas. Honestly, LP in a bookstore is like a pregnant woman in a grocery store. *Everything* looks good, and is exactly what she wants...for about 5 minutes, and then decisions are rethought, and selections changed. It was an incredibly entertaining experience. After our important book buying, we headed back to the grandparent's for "brunch." Now, I'm not exactly dumb, and had hinted to my sister several months ago that it would be great if they had a shower for me while I was down there, since I wouldn't get to see any of the Tennessee contingent until after the baby was born. Then, the matter was promptly dropped, until Friday night, when, at Portia's birthday party, a friend of hers said that he'd love to throw me an impromptu baby shower while I was in town, at which point Portia's eyes bugged out of her beautiful drunken head, and she said, "Don't you think (he) should talk to me first?!" And then of course, there was the phone call with PB on Saturday, during which he asked if they'd had my shower yet. Portia has learned an important lesson from this whole experience. If one is trying to plan a surprise of any kind for me, the best way to make sure it stays a secret is to NOT tell PB. He's an airhead, and forgets that it's a secret, even if the word "secret" is written in boldfaced capital letters in 50 point font. Doesn't matter, he'll still let it slip. And that is why I love him. He just can't help himself, and wants to tell me everything. Awww. So anyway, we had a shower, and it was lovely and heartfelt and we got some great stuff, including the incredibly beautiful baby bedding that was totally out of our budget and was our "wouldn't it be great if...?" item. All awesome.

Monday morning, Portia took me back to the airport, at a truly painful hour, (6:45...seriously, I was on vacation!) so that I would have the luxury of a direct flight, which, given BB3's propensity for kicking the crap out of me while flying, I am eternally grateful for. The flight was overbooked and completely packed, because the Powers That Be had cancelled several flights the night before due to inclement weather. I was very grateful to get off the ground, and even more grateful to get home. I miss my sister terribly, but this was the first time that I really wasn't that sad to leave. I have a home now that I am more than happy to go back to, and a husband who tells me everyday how much he missed me, but how glad he was that I got to spend that time with my sis. It's really the best of all possible worlds. But I do wish Portia and I lived closer to each other. Maybe some day.

In prego news, I met with the midwife who will be delivering BB3, and she said everything looks wonderful and is moving along nicely. There is a very strong heartbeat, and she said that I will, theoretically have the kind of belly most women envy. In other words, small. Then I pointed out that I have hips that most woman wouldn't dream to have, and she said, "Well, it's all a trade off." She's very kind, and very good, and has been doing this for many, many years, which makes PB feel better. He's only ever known the "traditional" hospital birthing method, and I am very against that. Once he accepted the fact that I really am in good health, and that BB3 will be totally fine, and that the midwife is trained to handle touchy situations, he felt a bit better, although, admittedly, he's still a little queasy about the whole afterbirth issue. He's totally fine with holding a freshly born, pre-bath infant, just not keen on being around for the afterbirth. I promised him that he'd have to leave the room to "get me something" during that part of the process. He was fine with that.

Got my first pregnancy stretchmark, a little tiny one to the right of my belly button. Not really worried about the whole stretchmark thing. They fade eventually. The position of the mark shows that she's growing straight out, which is good, 'cause I was a little worried about the "allover" pregnant belly thing. I'd much rather have a potbelly than be wearing an inner tube.

Things are starting to get a bit uncomfortable in my back. I've had a nagging pain between my shoulder blades for about 5 days now, and the only thing that helps is having PB pop my back. Unfortunately, it's not really convenient for him to do that while I'm sitting in my office, so we try and get it done before going to bed, but he's been working 'til 8 or 9 every night this week, and getting up at 4 or 5, so that is tough too. Then again, if my only true complaint thus far is a little back pain, I can totally handle that.

Only 18 weeks to go! And almost in the third trimester. Awesome. :)

Week 19

There she is, Miss Samantha (maybe) Grace (definitely)!

Yeah, so it's a girl, not a boy like everyone (including myself, Portia, and our grandmother-who-is-never-wrong) thought. Apparently Dirt knew all along, because as his text message so eloquently put it, "I freaking told you!" After the initial shock wore off that we were going to be having our *third* girl, I was pretty psyched. First of all, girl clothes are just so incredibly cute it makes you wanna hurl, and plus you get to buy all the bows, and ribbons, and cute little hair clippies that boys tend to squirm away from. Then you realize that everyone says girl toddlers are easier than boy toddlers, so that's a plus. Also, already having two girls makes it easy to guess whats gonna happen with a third. If you turn a blind eye to the fact that we now have a third wedding/committment ceremony/flower child love ritual to pay for, and that another woman in the house means the need for oodles more storage to house all the beauty/health/hygiene products, and that PB is now totally outnumbered on all household votes (not like he wasn't before...hi, he's married) then we're in for tons of fun!

I had quite a bit of concern about having a girl. There are scads of increasingly unpleasant birth defects that run in my family, ranging from nerve-less hips to never-ending bladder and kidney problems, that only seem to effect women. So, I was worried. However, my mind was put at ease yesterday after seeing her dance around on the monitor, and hearing the doctor tell me that, thanks to advances in modern medicine over the last 18 years, she will not be subjected to 5 years of agonizing over whether or not going to the bathroom would make her cry. Instead, she would only have to deal with it for 18 months, at most. Honestly, I can remember willing myself to never pee again, for the simple fact that I was terrified of the mind-numbing, burning pain associated with that particular bodily function. Our little girl will, hopefully, not receive that birth defect from Mama, and instead will get totally normal plumbing from Daddy. Here's hoping!

What we know so far:
She does not have spina bifida, scoliosis, a heart defect, a cleft palate, intestines growing in a pouch outside of her abdominal cavity, or linebacker-esque shoulders. She does have complete hip sockets (woohoo for nerves!) and a bladder and kidneys that are the proper size and shape. She has very long, shapely legs (PB is 6'2") and long fingers (from me...I have man hands). She has my nose, and BB2's cheeks, which makes me fear for the health of my diabetic father, what with all the incredibly sweet cuteness infesting his world. All in all, she's lookin pretty darn cute. Still bald, but that's to be expected at this stage of the game, from what I understand. Between her father and I, I find it hard to believe that I'm not going to give birth to Cousin It.

I guess I should probably get used to lots of pink, since that's pretty much all we'll be receiving in the next year or so, right?