In those pregnancy books, they often to tell you that ‘round about the second trimester, you will have an “increased appetite”. What they neglect to tell you is that said “increased appetite” is more akin to feeling like you are on the brink of starvation approximately 20 hours per day. You think I’m exaggerating? It’s 9:57am as I type this and I have had breakfast and three snacks since I woke up four hours ago. Seriously. Yes, seriously. I ate approximately half as much (if that) when I was training for the half-marathon many moons ago. This baby can eat, let me tell you. She is hungry all the time! And kicks and kicks if not fed NOW. Yes, Mom, RIGHT NOW. No, not after you go to the bathroom or do that important work thing, but N-O-W!!

 

 

 

Lest he be annoyed and disappointed by this recent turn of events, my constant starvation has led to many amusing anecdotes for my hubby to tell over coffee with his friends. His particularly favorite episodes include: The One in Which my Wife cried because she had to have pizza RIGHT NOW and we were driving on a deserted road in the middle of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula approximately eight million miles away from civilization as we know it, The One In Which my wife HAD to have bacon and eggs in the next five minutes OR ELSE, The One in Which my Wife Ate Every Scrap of Decent Food in This House and All I got was this lousy Heal of Bread to Show for it. And, my dear, sweet, loving husband has yet to complain, and in fact states that he is looking forward to the day when he is awoken in the middle of the night by a wife DEMANDING pickles and ice cream, Yes, together, RIGHT NOW. That one has yet to happen. And some of the above MAY be slight exaggerations, but seriously, not far from the truth.

 

 

 

Time for snack #5. I think I’ll trade running for marathon eating. I’m pretty good at it. Unless I run out of food….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Whether or not you voted for Obama, whether or not you voted at all, you witnessed history in the making on Tuesday. America has spoken and we’ve chosen to bring change to this country. For this first time ever we have proved that you don’t have to be rich, white, and an old guy to be President of this country. Despite your views and feelings on the matter, and whether or not you support our President-elect, you can’t refute the facts. Change has come to this country, finally, after a long overdue wait. I think that the CNN add campaign actually summed it up pretty well:

"There is a moment. A simple moment before history gets recorded. Before it goes in the books. Before it appears as a question on a game show. Or a midterm exam. A moment right before the headline is written. There is a moment when history lives in the present. When we can watch it unfold in real time. Right before our eyes. And we can assume our place in it. Some people live for history. We live for the moment just before."

 

I for one, am celebrating the progress. For me, for my family and friends, for our country, and most especially for my unborn child. May she witness many more moments like this one in her lifetime.

 

 

 

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And with an added message from this particular future baby of America: "Vote for the Good Guy!"

Happy Voting Everyone!

This blog post became doubly apporpriate this morning as I waited at the polling place with my hubby to vote. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Good Morning.

Republican Election Judge in charge of ballots: Good Morning. Oh, is your baby due today?

Me (slightly confused): Uh, no. Not today

REJ: Oh, too bad. We could really use another vote

Me: Hmmm. Well, not due today (Translation: Lady, lucky for you my baby is not voting today, because my baby would not be voting for your guy!)

Just as I am thinking this, a sharp kick in my abdomen, confirming my suspicions that my baby does in fact, know what is good for her and is rooting for our man Obama today!

 

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Baby Wray is officially (well, as officially as an ultrasound ever is) a GIRL!

We are beyond psyched!

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Ok, internet, I will not lie to you. The pregnancy insanity has set in full force. There are good days and there are bad days, but the pregnancy hormones have made me rather insane about small things.

Example: roughly three weeks ago The Love of my Life and I were visiting my mother in my hometown. As an aside, we saw many awesome bands at a really great world music festival that weekend. But back to the real story... While visiting, we happened to go the the local Farmer's Market. Now, the local farmer's market in my hometown is nothing short of amazing given the size of the town. It's roughly three times the size of the Farmer's market closest to my suburban chicagoland home. Included in this farmer's market, is one cheese man. Yes, that's what they call him. He makes his own goat cheese and it is to die for. Now, there are eighty thousand opinions about eating cheese in pregnancy. But, from what I gathered prior to my trip, it was ok as long as it is pasteurized. So, being the hormonal (and hungry) pregnant woman that I am, my mom and I asked the cheese guy about his cheese.

"Yes, it's heat pasteurized. Would you like to try some?"

"Oh yes, please"- that's me, without a care in the world at that point other than consuming my beloved cheese. And gobble some up I did.

When we got back to my mother's place, we had some more cheese, but this time when she unwrapped the package, I noticed that the cheese had a blue vein running through it and blue mold on the outside as well.

Me-"Um, you think it's ok it I eat more of this. I don't know."

A chorus of "of course it's ok. It's pasteurized, it's fine" came from my family surrounding me.

And so I ate a few bits more, being careful to avoid any of the blue veined parts. And it was SOO good!

Now, you'd think that I could just let this go. But, I can't. I am now partially convinced that I have inadvertantly killed and/or irreparably damaged my baby by eating this goat cheese. The chance is minute, yes. But, listeria in pregnant woman (the bacteria they are worried about and the reason for the food avoidance rules) is often asymptomatic (that I did not know prior to going on my trip-I should've read more about it first). Therefore, according to my baby books, this horrible goat cheese poison could be killing my baby as I type and I WOULD NOT EVEN KNOW IT! I am absolutely sick at the thought of my foray to the dark side leading to the death of my child. Don't even ask me how I will live with myself if that is how this story ends. Seriously.

Yes, my dear internet, I have lost a number of nights of sleep and shed many tears over my foray into the risky. I have been so careful with food throughout my pregnancy and I am angry at myself for caving into the cheese. It is likely that my baby will be just fine, and that you will all be laughing at me hysterically one day over this (feel free), but in the meantime, I'm terrified that I hurt my baby. The curse of living in such an overly cautious culture. You just keep sending those good thoughts and prayers that my one slip up did not cause irreparable damage.

In less hysterical news, I'm finally halfway. 20 weeks as of yesterday. The big ultrasound ins on Tuesday. Wish us luck and we'll let you know what flavor of child we're having, assuming she/he cooperates.

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4am-wake up to one kicking baby. Smile. Fall back asleep.

 

5:30am-wake up (again)-nature calls. Stumble into bathroom without turning on any lights as you have become so familiar with this path you might as well still be sleeping.

 

A few minutes later, stumble back to bed.

 

5:45am-alarm blares in your ear. Hit, not so gingerly, the snooze button.

 

5:53am-drag yourself out of bed. Stare in bathroom mirror and Thank God that your baby is still alive and well, and that another day has passed and you are still pregnant. Eventually,  shower, get dressed, wonder when the baby will kick you again. Pray that you won’t see any spotting today, which has plagued you off and on your whole pregnancy.

 

7:00am-Depart for work

 

7-8am-Drive in miserable traffic, adjusting your i-pod every few seconds as you can’t seem to find anything worth listening to at this ungodly hour of the morning. Wonder, again, when the baby will kick you.

 

8am-Arrive at work. Deal with patient complaints and dramas.

 

10am-Eat hummus, crackers, and chocolate covered raisins because that’s what happens to sound good at that particular moment. Marvel at how weird you have become since you have conceived (Who in their right mind eat’s hummus at 10am on a Monday morning?).

 

10:30am-start to panic that baby does not seem as active today as it has been the last few days. Google fetal movement. Laugh at yourself for worrying as you read that this early on, movement is not quite regularly felt yet. Wonder if you should call the M.D. just in case. Decide you are being a insane. Go back to working.

 

11am-eat more  chocolate raisins, yet again. Read work emails. Get aggravated at all the changing regulations you have to deal with (more on that in a later post). Wonder again, when you'll feel those kicks.

 

12pm-Finally, the baby wakes up and starts kicking up a storm. Feel like you are popping a bag of popcorn in your stomach. Feel joyful that you know your baby is still alive and well.

 

1pm-Eat more food and watch Law and Order on a rare break from work.

 

2pm-Find something else to panic about, because that’s how it goes with the pregnancy hormones.

 

2:30pm Begin wondering about whatever else you’ve decided to worry about it while continuing to deal with patients.

 

3pm-Eat more food. Probably fruit at this point as you feel guilty about all the chocolate covered goodness.

 

5pm-Finally, blissfully, get in your car and drive home. Continue to wonder about the worry of the hour, alternately laughing at yourself and telling yourself to calm the hell down, and wondering at what point you should call the M.D. just in case.

 

6pm-Arrive home, make dinner, watch mindless t.v. in an effort to distract yourself and/or spend time with your husband.

 

8:30ish pm-Fall asleep on couch in a exhausted stupor, while pretending to watch t.v.

 

10pm-Get woken up by husband and gingerly dragged upstairs to bed. Listen to husband read bed-time story to baby. Pray, even though you are not all too accustomed to doing it, that your baby will be born healthy. Collapse into exhausted sleep.

 

And rinse, recycle, and repeat each day, while also marking off every day as one day closer to your due date, always praying that your baby will be fine in the end.

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I know. I have been absent from this blog for about a decade. Ok, not that bad, but close. In the meantime, our computer server died and fried a year's worth of blog entries. *sigh*.

But, I have been silent for good reason. I finally, FINALLY, have amazing news. For those of you not yet privy to the details, I'll let the photo speak for itself:



Welcome to the World, Baby Wray. Your arrival is already much anticipated.

And this baby is pretty damn cute already, no?

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. This journey as been peppered with complications and scares, but we are cautiously optimistic that all will be well.

More details to come as events warrant.

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If you don't want to hear me moaning and growning about Jury Duty, stop reading now
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