9 Week Letter to Little Baby F

Dear little baby F,

You are almost ten weeks old, that is a quarter of the way to your supposed birthday. I am not counting on you coming at 40 weeks however because according to my grandmother, who you will absolutely love, she was pregnant for 12 months. Also, your cousin decided that he would like to stay inside his whom with a view for a few weeks extra before he braved this world, when you meet your aunts and uncles that will just smother you with love you will probably understand the motive behind staying in a little bit longer. I haven't seen you yet, or even heard you, as a matter of fact the only thing keeping me knowing that you are in there is my constant need to blink my tired burning eyes. This week I was hit with a new gift given to me by you, an emotional roller coaster that is sure to rival the worlds craziest coaster. It all started when the mean Russian woman at Costco told me that they only accept cash at their hotdog stand and your mama only carries cards, you had been begging me for a hotdog for a couple of weeks and she kept me from fulfilling that need. I almost burst into tears but I kept my composure by hiding behind the bulk toilet paper I had just picked up. You finally got me with the emotions after I found out that the post office had lost my fetal doppler, I had been waiting for a whole week and I just wanted to try to hear your little heartbeat to give me some reassurance that you were ok and happy in there. I only have one more week until I finally get to see you so I can hold out. I am going to make you a promise Little Baby F, if you keep this no morning sickness thing up, I'll keep up with the feeding you whatever you are wanting. Ask me for a hotdog if we have a deal.

Love,
Your Mama

9 Weeks +

I am just over 9 weeks and my baby has reached the size of a green olive! I can't believe how just a few weeks ago it was the size of a poppy seed. Little Baby F is hardly giving me any problems, no hugging the toilet, no boobs that feel like they have been mashed with a meat grinder, no congestion so bad that even breathing through my mouth is difficult. As a matter of fact the only real symptoms I have are feeling so exhausted that I am convinced I ran the Boston half marathon in my sleep... twice, and also the headaches that you get while growing a tiny human are out of this world painful. I will take my couple of symptoms gratefully however because feeling like there is a jackhammer in my head is much better than locking lips with a toilet more than my husband. In my family we have these little paper dolls that represent each of us and every week my cute little sister changes the picture on my belly to match the size of Little Baby F. Meet baby olive...

Well Would You Look At That

The last time I heard the words "well would you look at that" I was lying naked, and fully alert I might add, on a table and had a catheter with a camera shoved up through my groin to get a look at the gaping hole in my heart. I would say that the next time these words would ring into my head would be much more exciting than the previous. This is how my December 9th unfolded... Wake up and go to the gym, can't get through my usual work out that I have been doing for 5 days a week for a year, time to lay off the twinkies. Go to work only to find that it smells like the entire building was sprayed with windex through a fire hose. While at work, start feeling flu-ish. Go to Costco only to have my nose assaulted by the smell of bread and beef, gross. Go to Target and purchase a box of tampons and pregnancy tests in the same transaction, only to see this approximately five minutes later, two days later and four days later.

I Just Did It

The dirty dirty, the big deed, the no pants dance, the baby dance, whatever you want to call it, I did it! Ok I didn't JUST do it... I don't want anyone to read this assuming that I grabbed the laptop the second I was finished to post on the world wide web that I just had unprotected sex. Yahoo answers is for stuff like that. The cute husband of mine and I rolled in the hay a few times around my "O" date in November so if I were "officially" trying, I would be considered in the dreadful two week wait. But you see, we didn't really sit down and put a label on what we were doing, I think whenever you tell a man something is official, bad things have the potential to happen, especially when you are married to a man that can have the thought process of a woman. My husband is a worrier, if he doesn't have something to worry about, he finds something to worry about. So what did he do? He married someone who only worries when the milk is low, she hears a noise in the middle of the night (which happens to be every night), the dog seems sad or that she is going to miss Glee if she doesn't get home right that second. I am afraid that if he and I make it completely official, he will be worried about anything and everything. I try to keep him in the dark on how freaky us women can get with charting, temps, cervical mucus, ovulation dates, etc... Have I succumbed to any of these methods yet? No. I will just give it a go for three months or so and then try some different things if I haven't seen the positive in all of it's glory. All of that aside, I am the typical woman when it comes to believing that every tiny little twitch, ache, and strange happening inside of my body is a pregnancy symptom so you better believe that I have been obsessing over all these small strange feelings inside of me. Mine are the typical "symptoms" of cramping, headache, small bouts of nausea, boobs feel like they have been run over by a dump truck and that I could sleep through an entire British invasion if it were to happen again. We'll see if anything comes of the random few rompings of my husband and I. If not, I will be a little more active in the third week of December.

I Can't Help Myself

Has anyone else already started filling their closet with baby and maternity clothes? I have already purchased a first birthday outfit for a girl and a boy, loads of maternity clothes and the most adorable pair of baby converse. Every time I am in a store and see baby clothes I stop, squeal or grab my husbands face and about break his neck turning his head to JUST.LOOK.AT.THAT. In the beginning, he tried to pretend he hadn't noticed that I had his head turned completely around while he walked forward, but now he can't escape because he knows how much I love seeing those tiny clothes and he is a sweetie to let me melt over them. Until I have my own, I will continue to torture my dog with clothes and ribbons in the ears to match, she doesn't mind because I shower her with treats when she looks that adorable. Until I have a small baby to dress up, my dog will be subjected to this type of torture and my husband will be subjected to the torture of having to answer me when I am trying on my maternity clothes with a pillow shoved up my shirt and I ask him, "how do I look?"

Ready, Set... You Can't Go.

This is yet another blog for me to start and throw myself into like a tornado. When my husband finds out he will probably roll his eyes and wonder what type of public humiliation I will put him through this time. Either that or he will see what this blog is going to be all about and he will dig himself a hole, lie in it and give the little bit of dignity he has left it's own funeral. This is just another thing for him to keep track of and heaven knows he doesn't need that. I started this blog back when I was all ready to jump into the world of trying for a baby, excitement had hit me, excitement had hit dear husband and my fingers were itching to type my first post about doing the baby dance and how awesome it was to not use protection. <-- that little sentence right there would send the poor husband into a downward spiral of embarrassment. It is only going to get more graphic and real from here on out! Well the doctor decided to cripple my excitement with the news that I was going to need surgery for a health issue and I would have to wait at least three months afterward to start trying, it felt like someone hit me over the head with a giant sausage. I was devastated but I knew I needed to do this for the safety of me and the safety of my future baby(s) Well I am pleased to announce I am almost one month down. So, my plan of attack: Have amazing "practice" sex with my husband, take a paper ring off of my count down chain every day until I reach the holy grail of the end, continue buying baby stuff and maternity clothes that I can't resist, and continue to sit in the room that will soon be a baby nursery and dream about kissing a small precious face. Oh and possibly read What To Expect When You Are Expecting for the third or fourth time.