Mmmmmmmm, Turkey

So...no conclusive decision as far as testing go. I'm guessing that means that I probably wont do any testing. Because ignoring a problem and hoping it goes away is a good, solid, healthy plan.

On to more exciting and salivatingly addictive topics. Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving when it's on THIS side of the mountain pass. For the past three years we had to make the 6.5 hour roadtrip to Big B's mother's house. There is not a moment during those trips when I can relax and let my guard down. It's always one big stress-fest, with me counting down the hours...no, minutes, until we can leave.

This year we're having it at my mom's house, although I'm bringing most of the food (including the turkey) for 15 people. It will be a teency bit strange, because my four step brothers and sisters are coming with their spouses and kids, and my "real" brothers and sisters aren't coming at all. It will still be fun, though. They're a great group of people, kind of reserved and polite, but very easy going.

This is totally unlike my siblings. When we get together it becomes A Big Competition...who can be Most Funny? who can Get the Most Attention? who can still do a headstand? (I'm serious...with my oldest brother at 50, we inevitably challenge each other to see who can still do crazy human tricks). We talk loud, disagree, sometimes say not-so-pleasant-things to each other, are completely honest about the turkey/pie/stuffing.

This leads me to my Top Ten Turkey Day Foods:

1. Mashed Potatoes (only my mom's will do...mine turn out like play-dough)
2. Sweet Potatoes (they must have marshmallows on top)
3. Cherry-O Cheesecake (this is such a nostalgic, yet horribly wonderful desert)
4. Apple Pie (my special recipe)
5. Rolls (the white fluffy kind with lots of butter and jam)
6. Carrot Casserole (sounds weird, but is awesome)
7. Cranberry Sauce (made with real cranberries, not that canned jelly stuff)
8. Ambrosia Fruit Salad (my sister's top secret recipe...terribly fattening)
9. Turkey (dark and white combo) - no gravy!
10. Stuffing (new to the Top Ten List...I'm a late adapter)

I don't think it's ironic at all that my top eight items are total carb fests. I didn't earn this waistline by craving protein. I am digging IN this year. I'll have my Belly Band in place and ready to take on an extra inch or two of bloated goodness. There's no stoppin' me now. My only regret is that when you don't host Thanksgiving, there aren't the mounds of leftovers to nuke for days later.

Does testing make the heart grow fonder?

We have to make a decision, and make it fast. We need to decide if we're going to do the whole screening/diagnostic tests for Maverick the Twirling Ball. I'm fairly certain we've decided against amniocentesis or CVS because of the whole risk of miscarriage. But what about the noninvasive ones (Nuchal & triple screen)?? Being the ripe ol' age of 38 definitely puts us at a much higher risk for chromosomal disorder than those youngins out there getting pregnant for the first time at 25 (national average).

Big B says NO go. The tests are notorious for false positives and knowing that something *could* be "wrong" with the little nutcracker isn't going to change anything for us. It would just make me sad and depressed the whole pregnancy.

I'm not so sure. Being The Worrier that I am, I feel like it would be so nice for those tests to come back normal and be able to have some sense of peace. But what if it was positive? Would it be good to know so that I could prepare myself? Or would it be better to be "surprised" with a chromosomal defect when Maverick makes his/her debut into this crazy world? I could just go on trusting that everything is rosy.

I just don't know. But, we have to make up our minds QUICK. It takes at least two weeks to get scheduled for the appt., and it's supposed to be done before the end of week 14. Perhaps my blogging friends who have been through this or thought about it could give me advice.

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

A chuckle for today. And I swear this is a true story.



My aunt, usually a fairly thin woman, has put on some lb's in the past year. This has prompted her to by some new clothing. She bought herself a new outfit last week and decided to wear it to church on Sunday. After putting on her new pair of plaid-ish pants and brown sweater, she decided she no longer liked it. She laid it on the bed so it wouldn't get wrinkled before she took it back to the retailer. Off to church she went.

Her husband had to run some errands that same morning, and told auntie that he would meet her at church. He gets home after she's already left and sees the outfit lying on the bed. He assumes that she has got him a new pair of pants and sweater, and that she wants him to wear it to church. He does. No kidding. Yes, he thinks its kind of an odd outfit, but, hey, she's the expert in the fashion department. Who is he to challenge her taste in pants.

He shows up at church and she sees him walk in. She doubles over in laughter. He's clueless. She can hardly breathe.

I know, I know. Wouldn't he KNOW they were women's clothing? He's definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

All clear

Yesterday we had our first OB appointment. It was fairly uneventful. I thought perhaps there would be a parade in my honor...but, no. No parade. No fanfare. No "we've got a winner" broadcast. Just an appointment with a new doc. I'll call her Dr. Youngin', cuz she's got to be at least 5 years younger than me, which is weird in and of itself. Dr. Youngin' asked lots of questions:

Have I been taking prenatal vitamins? Oh yes...for TWO YEARS.
Have I been tested for STDs? Um...yes - required for IVF.
Have I had a recent pap smear? Double check - required for IVF.
Have I had a recent ultrasound? Triple check - just last week.
(as they drew blood) How are you with needles? Must be okay...I've given myself over 125 in the past 3 months, not counting the kazillion draws. I haven't passed out yet!

But it was very reassuring to hear that everything looked good. She saw the little dancing ball, doing his/her usual arm wavings and spinning around. And she saw it all from the outside - the wand didn't go in at all! I was a bit confused when she told me legs didn't have to be in the stirrups. Whaaa? This is new.

The great thing was that she said I could take Unisom! (angelic choir sings). I have not had more than 2 hours of continuous sleep in three months. Most nights that's ALL the sleep I get. Not good. Took one little glorious tab last night and I was OUT. Not enough to sleep through the two or three urgent piddle requests by my bladder, but thankfully I went back to sleep after. I am a new woman.

Dig that Hole Really Deep

Big B and I had a "date" on Thursday. We went to one of those fancy-shmancy restaurants where there's nothing but "small plates" which always add up to a very large bill. But, we decided to splurge. We hadn't been out together just for us in a long time and the stress of everything has definitely taken a toll on the marital bliss. 

One plate down, and just beginning our second, the conversation sounds something like this:

Me: "Oof...I'm stuffed already. Everything's pushing up on my stomach...I eat too much and it makes me sick, I eat too little and it makes me sick."

BigB: "I think that these symptoms you're having are psychosomatic." 

Me: "What? You think I'm imagining things? Like what exactly?"

BigB: "Ya know...like the sore boobs, and the queasy stomach, and the farting."

Me: "So...you think I'm making these things up?"

BigB: "Well....yeah. I think those things come later...it's still so early."

Me:  "And how would you know? Have you had lots of experience with pregnant women?"

BigB: "At work - there's been a few women."

Me:  "And they don't talk to you about their sore boobs and farting? Hmmm...imagine that."

I wanted to shove his $18 venison bites up his nostrils. But not before I strung him up by his toenails and read (aloud) to him every chapter of "What to Expect" in anannoying sing-song mickey mouse voice.

Tomorrow is our first OB appointment. I'm excited and scared, of course. But I am trying to take things one day at a time.

25 vs 38

I read a statistic today that the average age of a first time mother in the U.S. is 25 years. 25! I don't even remember 25. I'm sure it was fun. It certainly didn't involve children or even remote thoughts of children (except for maybe preventing them).



So, let's break this down:

If I had been 25 when I had my first baby, said "baby" would now be 13.

• I am 38
• I will be 51 when my first-born is 13, one year into my AARP membership

• I will be 55 when my first-born is old enough to drive me to Denny's for my "Senior Discount" Grand-Slam breakfast

• I will be 58 when my first-born heads off to college and 62 when they graduate - just in time for me to start collecting Social Security benefits

This is sobering. I told BigB the other day that we needed to work extra hard to be fit and active, since we're going to have to complete with a lot younger parents. We will have to work harder to be "hip" and "cool" (even saying those words makes me feel old!). Hopefully it will make us young at heart and have a more youthful outlook on life. I'm pretty sure we won't be competing with our kids on the XBox, or borrowing each others clothes. But, we'll be a family.

Everything's Fine

It's ok. I can breathe again. I really think nurses should take some type of course on how to leave a voicemail message. Here's her exact words:

"What you're describing is definitely not normal. The doctor would like to see you this afternoon."

What part of that message would not send you into an emotional, freaking-out vortex? I can think of a million different ways to communicate that message. 

But, at the end of the day, everything's fine. We saw the little bugger. It was flipping all over the place, moving like crazy. The doc could barely take a picture, it was so active. Big B thinks it must be a boy - being all goofy like that and scaring his mother half to death.

I'm just so relieved.

Aching Hooter Apparently Not a Good Sign

I'm on my way shortly to an emergency OB ultrasound. I've been having weird aching/cramping in my cervix/hootch area for two days. My clinic said that those types of pain certainly aren't "normal" and to skeedadle on in for a look-see.

As usual, I'm freaking out. I'm so scared that there's going to be something majorly wrong. Just as I was starting to let it all sink in and even entertain the idea that thing was really going to work...

Just last night I was thinking, tomorrow is day one of week 10. If I can get through this week, there's a good chance that this will really happen. Yesterday my mom came over to help organize our storage room so we'll have a place to store all the stuff in the office that's to become the nursery. I just started filling out a baby book that a friend gave me. BigB and I have been making plans of how we'll make our grand announcement at Thanksgiving. I ordered two pairs of maternity pants at JCPenE. My first OB appt is next Monday.

I'm trying to remain calm. Trying to remain positive. Trying to remember that God is in control and that He loves me. A lot. Prayers are appreciated.

A guest blog entry, bought to you by the Great Blog Cross-Pollination

Early Pregnancy Elation and Fears

I remember fourteen years ago when I found out I was pregnant for the second time with our first son. It was overwhelming; feelings of happiness, joy, fear, anxiety all mixed up with hormones to boot.

I was never sure if I was going to become a mother, Ever. Especially after the pain of my first pregnancy ending in miscarriage with my soon to be Ex totally unsupportive first husband. After heartbreak and heartmend, soul searching, and a good therapist or two, I had come to accept and be okay with never being a parent, just a doting aunt. I had let go of my fondest wish and desire even though it hurt because I learned that it was so totally outside my control.
When I met my current husband and we decided to have a family, it was as if the world of possibility was opened up to me. My heart took flight when I saw the two pink lines and the shock and joy in my husband's face. My happiness was tempered with anxiety, I felt like I knew too much being a maternal/child nurse for many years before having children. My older sister, who is a Pediatric Cancer Specialist, also felt this way when she had children five years before me.

I didn't know what worrying was until I got pregnant and then I realized again, I had to let go, and accept the wisdom of my body and the child I carried. I had been given a chance to turn myself over to this selfless act of creating and nuturing life.

Our sons daily teach me the wisdom and beauty of "letting go", sometimes it is quite annoying for all parties concerned and other days, it's so wonderful I pinch myself.

Thank you for letting me share my thoughts today on Kandi's blog. As a mother of older children, I wanted to post something relevant for her. I hope you will join me in wishing her all the best for the happiest and healthiest pregnancy for her, her husband, and their child.

(guess this blog author in your comments below)

hello already

I was at the grocery store yesterday and had this sudden feeling that I was in the set of Shawn of the Dead (without the gore, of course). It was if all these people were wandering around with absolutely dead-pan looks on their faces, walking the aisles mechanically.

I guess I try to engage people. I look them in the eye. I smile. I say "excuse me" or "pardon me" when walking in front of them while they're making a decision between the sundried tomato or mushroom spaghetti sauce. Rarely does anyone ever smile back, make eye contact, or even acknowledge that I have spoken to them.

Why is this? We're inches from each other, sharing the same space and activity, and they look like I have grown a second head and need to be put in a holding cell. Does it stem from years of being told, "don't talk to strangers?" Is it a West Coast thing? It's not like I'm trying to strike up a conversation or anything.

I get this on the street, too. Just say "hi" to a stranger and 9 times out of 10 they won't respond. I know I live in a big city, but, come on! I just really feel like this world would be a better place if we could give strangers a smile or a hello once in awhile. Just a few days after the biggest historical landmark in recent history where strangers were dancing in the street together, and we can't accept a strangers good tidings.

I'll keep doing it. Keep making myself look like a fool. But maybe I'll brighten someones day, too. I guess you never know.

Tiny Tank Issues

We live in a small "cottage" built in the 30's. It's great for the two of us. Just enough room. Except the bedrooms are TINY! Our "master" bedroom is 8' x 10' with a teency little closet. It works fine, except we are tall people and have a CalKing bed. So, our bedroom is literally a "Bed Room," with little else able to occupy the space. The bed is pushed into a corner, so that we can still open the door. This means that one of us (me) has to get out of bed by scooching down and off the end, rather than just swinging your legs off the side. This is usually not a problem.

Last night I peed six times.

Six.

Times.

In the middle of the night.

Of course just as I'm falling back asleep, the tiny tank of mine screems, "reeeeeeleeeeeasssse meeeee!" And, there's no falling back asleep until I scooch my rump down to the end of the bad, over three or seven pairs of shoes, down the unlit hall to our freezing cold bathroom.

It really sucks a truck. I was hoping this was just an early pregnancy thing and that it, along with the constant feeling of bad-chinese-food-ingested would pass. But, apparently, no. According to baby.center, this absurd behavior will "die down as soon as your baby is born." Fantastic. I'm telling you what. I'm so moving Big B over to the other side of the bed. I really can't see myself "scooching" an extra 25-50 pounds of girth. It would be more like "hauling" or perhaps "winching."