yeah, I said it. If you don't want to read about boobs, just go ahead and skip this.
I've never been particularly, ahem, gifted in this area, which is why the day that I went to VS and the bra-fitter lady told me I was a D, I clapped and giggled for a solid 24 hours. The most amazing thing that's happened though was last night I was reading about breastfeeding and it said that around 23-24 weeks some women can manually express collostrum. Of course I tried it this morning and it WORKED. No water works or anything, but definitely a neat little trick I couldn't do a few weeks ago.
Guys. I can freaking create and sustain life. I am a freaking superhero.
I am honestly dumbfounded by how little money, time, and brain power to make my very own "Hooter Hider." Thanks again to CityCraft for the fabulous *BOLD! BEAUTIFUL! GENDER NEUTRAL!* fabric (ONLY A YARD PEOPLE) and the Mama Monster, where I got the pattern.
also made this week: an oilcloth bag. I took a class over at CityCraft and learned soooo much (including that i need to get my machine serviced...oops) and had a wonderful time with a cozy gathering of women. I had never taken a sewing class before and was really nervous but had a blast and will definitely be going back.
Guess what everyone's getting for Christmas!
In other kinds of crafting news, my herb garden is basically just tending to itself...I've got loads of Basil, thyme, oregano, chamomile, and my bright lights chard just keeps on giving! It's really amazing. I wanted a wild herb garden, and that is certainly what I'm getting. I don't even stress about the caterpillars that have moved in on my parsley remnants.
The thing that has made me smile the most this summer is that an heirloom tomato from last year has decided to plant it's pretty self in the not-so-sunniest spot in the garden. AND THEN decided that op, nope, about a foot away would be MUCH better thank you, and...well, we've got 3 baby tomatoes going and are just going to see what happens:
oh, the saving grace of the beautiful women I have the pleasure of calling besties. Tonight Kyle's guy friends came over about 6ish and kidnapped him for a pre-fatherhood "bachelor"-type party. Without telling him where they were going, they hauled him off to the Choctaw Casino up in Oklahoma. When I found out about the idea, I cried. I can't wait to get the full report tomorrow morning :)
So while the guys were out, the girls decided to have our own fun which involved tiaras, GayBingo, and an evening in the Bishop Arts District. I was expecting to go out and having a wonderful time, I was not expecting to be showered with all kinds of love and wonderfulness. I have some kick-ass girlfriends, and am blessed to share life with them.
Which brings me to my next random thought (it's WAY past my bedtime, so I'm delirious, so bear with me) about being present in our own lives. It's been a struggle the last few weeks to actually connect with...anyone. There's all this stuff I want to do and people I want to hang out with but honestly...and I never EVER thought I would EVER be this person...all I want to do when I get home is lay on the couch and let my brain melt into butter while watching television. It is the most counterproductive thing on the planet...I KNOW that the key to my happiness means doing something with my hands and not being inert, but I just want to lay there and not think. In fact, it's been WEEKS since we've seen some of our friends who live TWO MILES AWAY. I've heretofore declared things like this unacceptable.
We as a couple have gotten sucked into this vortex of being exhausted when we get home, and are still trying to balance how to work this two person full-time worker thing and then once you start thinking about not only having a kid but HEY we haven't walked the dog in like a month and a half what the heck and then there are friends and family we haven't seen in ages and how are we supposed to give all we can at work and still have time for our little family when we get home and then connect with everyone? As far as I can tell it means taking a few minutes out of my day to just breathe, relax, and know that it's okay to not give out every last drop at work, to save some for myself. I get the feeling that sanity in parenting is similar...having to fight for what you love and believe in but also know that you need to stay true to yourself and refill that well. It all comes back to self care, doesn't it.
I mean, I'm inclined to think that television is the root of all evil anyway, but any suggestions anyone out there has would be a fascinating read.
Working with my hands, be it writing, crocheting, painting, sewing, gardening, cooking, making music, is the key to my happiness and sanity. I am blessed to come from a long line of hippies and homemakers and married into a family that truly cherishes and rocks out all things handmade. I am currently inspired by a place in Dallas called CityCraft, a place to find beautiful fabrics (Amy Butler in the flesh omg!) and resources. I go probably every other week...because it coincides with payday...and because I love nothing more than letting my brain unwind in front of their endless array of color and pattern choices.
When my neice was born 8 years ago my sister had a tough time finding big 40" swaddle blankets and employed me to make a bunch for her friends after her mother in law made her a bunch. When I started looking around for registry items I realized that I didn't like a single pattern anywhere, and decided to make my own. Feast your eyes:
I am obsessed with Michael Miller and Amy Butler fabrics. I originally was going to make 8 swaddle blankets but have decided to make one more and then move on to more projects. I've gotten a whole lot more confident with my sewing machine, can navigate its tempermental tension settings, and actually figured out how to make square blankets.
I have a zillion ideas swirling around in my head...I just found a hooter hider pattern that I cannot WAIT to try out, maybe next week, and have decided I want to make a whole bunch of new placemats, runners, and napkins, seeing as our table is GORGEOUS and is in need of some new bling.
I saw this video about a year ago and still every time I watch it I laugh my butt off. I've worked very hard to not be "that pregnant girl" with all the smugness and self-righteousness. Hopefully it's working.
What I've found insane while being pregnant is the crazy, wildly intimate things people will tell you now that you're in the Mommy Club. People and their unsolicited advice and/or miscarriage stories are uh..sometimes hard to listen to, but I've gotten good at just smiling and saying "uh huh..." I feel blessed that there is a certain intimacy surrounding childbirth and I'm honored to be someone with whom people feel like sharing their fears and difficult times. What's been cool is that I now know the juicy details about just about everyone in my family and how they were born. I love those stories, and admire the mothers even more, knowing that they faced their hardest challenge and triumphed beautifully.
I've come to the conclusion that everyone has their own personal idea of how things should be done and that is the Right Way, which is fine for them, and I can make my own decisions. I have the feeling it's going to be like this just bringing a child into the world. For now, my way happens to include chocolate, chai lattes, eggs over easy, dr. pepper, turkey sandwiches and the occassional half glass of wine. So, you know. Judge away ;)
I've been getting a lot of the same questions lately, so thought I'd answer them on here.
Can you feel the baby moving?
uhh...all the time. It's quite distracting, and I know it's only going to get moreso and wow am I looking forward to it :) Yesterday I was in the elevator and felt my baby do this crazy somersault and my first reaction was "GROSS!" Y'all, it's really sci-fi stuff up in here and I try really hard not to think of this:
You're using a midwife? Are you doing a waterbirth?
Well? The two things aren't mutually inclusive, and honestly the thought of bobbing in my own goo really oogs me out, but the birth center is equipped with a totally kick-ass jacuzzi tub that I plan on using to ease the pains and tensions of labor. If the baby happens to decide it wants to be born when I'm in the tub, then cool, but I'm not married to any specific plan.
You're not finding out the gender?!
Oh, we know, but we're not telling.
Kidding.
Nope. Don't worry, it came as a complete surprise to me too. Some friends did the same thing and I thought it was the dumbest thing ever. How are you going to plan? What clothes is the baby going to wear? I am so that girl who used to sneak under the Christmas tree and unwrap presents and then re-wrap them. I'm a spoiler of surprises of epic proportions. But...the more I thought about it, and the fact that our house has the one extra room for baby space, I realized that there was no way I'd ever want to trick out a room all in all boy or girl stuff and then repaint it later. So, laziness is my number 1 answer. Also, I'm not a huge fan of pastel colors, and neither blue or pink are in my scheme of favorites. I've actually had a fantastic time thinking about all the ways I'm going to combine greys, browns, black, greens, dark purples, oranges, and reds.
I had a sonogram last week and WOW is all I can say - I wasn't expecting to get all up close and personal with my kid's neural ventricals and heart chambers. It was absolutely awe-inspiring. We weren't even tempted to find out the gender, and the awesome tech didn't even push us.
Do you have any weird cravings?
At the beginning I couldn't eat anything, so I would just head into the cafeteria at work and think about stuff until I settled on something that sounded good. I ate french fries and mustard about three days straight. It wasn't my proudest moment. I have never EVER been a fan of cereal but right now I'm luxuriating in a bowl of quaker oat squares. I don't necessarily get a lot of weird cravings, but I try to practice mindful eating which sometimes means standing in the store with a blank look on my face while I think of every possible combination. What's great about being prego is that when I finally do come to the conclusion of what I want to eat, be it cous cous and buffalo or chicken and waffles or a turkey sandwhich it is the BEST FLIPPING THING I HAVE EVER EATEN! It's kind of awesome.
So, I heard you were really sick and puking all the time?
This is my least favorite question not because I hate reliving the experience but because people tend to ask it right in the middle of a meal. I'm actually still puking every once in awhile. I barf in the mornings probably like 2 out of 7 days a week, and then yesterday I was queasy all day, then came home, crawled in bed and napped, then hurled everything I'd eaten all day. I then slept 13 hours and woke up feeling really weak but now feel really good. So yeah. I'll talk about it, but don't ask me about it when I'm trying to enjoy my breakfast.
There is an alien resident in my body and it makes me do all kinds of weird things. Like pee 500 times a day. Like, wake up at all hours of the night to pee. Like, go to bed at 8pm and then wake up refreshed, bright eyed and bushy tailed. At 1am. I'm learning to roll with the punches but dang. Pregnancy's bag of tricks sure is wide and varied. I still need to take a belly shot or two, I realize this. I was doing my music therapy rounds of my floors, checking in with folks when the inevitable "YOU'RE PREGNANT OMG!?" conversation came up and a nurse, a healthcare professional, guessed after looking at me that I was 10 weeks prego. Actually, before that she guessed that I was totally yanking her chain and I most certainly was not. It was kinda surreal.
The other thing that has me puzzled is that I am generally speaking a very. VERY. Emotional individual. Like, cries at dog food and SPCA commercials. A lot of people wonder how I do what I do at the hospital and I just...the smiles, the families, the sheer musical genius of the kids I work with all outweighs all the leeches crazy, heavy stuff that we deal with on a daily basis. However, I've not been the standard weepy mess I usually am. I didn't even cry at the season finale of Glee.
I know. Blame the foetus.
Thing is, I need to cry every once in awhile, and I last week I could feel an Edward-Scissorhands-type boo-hoo building up inside, not over anything and about everything at the same time. The hubs and I had both been insanely busy and involved at work, meaning we didn't have a whole lot of time to just sit and rap between episodes of The Good Guys and The Bachelorette, and there's a LOT of stuff we have to get figured out in the next four months, one of which being re-doing our bedroom/bathroom/study area. He asked about how long into the pregnancy I'd be able to handle moving everything out of the back of the house and living in the guest room for a couple months and when I started picturing the process of it I burst into tears right there. I wish I'd had a camera to capture the look on his face because...well the next words out of his mouth were something like, "Hey...uh...crazy? Can we discuss tile choices?" It's just that I had just figured out how to be prego and do this glorious work that I love and the thought of turning another part of my life upside down just...well, it made me Ugly Cry over white subway tiles with green accents.
Never a dull moment, folks, this Life with a Fetus.
