Updates, the Baby Edition

As promised, I give you baby updates.

We had our 3D sonogram on New Year's Eve. It was amazing. I swear he looks like me. And check out his little smirk and the way he is totally flipping us off in this picture. If this is any indication of his personality, the next 20 years will be quite trying.

I feel sort of huge. My back hurts sometimes, I involuntarily grunt all the time--when picking things up, when trying to tie my shoes, when rolling over in bed. It's going to be a long two-and-a-half months until he arrives. I recently heard someone say that all you can do in the 3rd trimester is get through it, and that's how I'm feeling about this. I'm just going to get through it.

My coat barely fits. I can button the top button, but then it just sort of flaps open. And it is way too freaking cold for this. Next baby should really think about being born in the summer or fall.

For awhile, the baby was spine to spine with me, which made my back hurt quite a bit, with these occasional shooting pains in one tiny area. And until he shifted around, I began to waddle. Every woman thinks it won't happen to her, but what can I say? Waddling was the only way to keep my back from spasming as I walked around. I am mad sexy, no?

All this thrashing and moving and kicking and poking is kind of getting old. And painful. Yes, it is a nice reassurance to know that he's still alive and well in there, but fewer jabs to the ribs would be nice.

In spite of the rib-kicking, the heartburn (have I mentioned the heartburn? Terrible.), the difficulty sleeping, the back pain, the waddling, and the feelings of hugeness, I am so in love with this baby boy. We read to him and sing to him, and I cannot wait to hold him in my arms. We've pretty much decided on his name (but it's a secret) and he just feels so real. It's still sort of surreal to think that he'll really be here in such a short amount of time, but he's got such a firm hold on our hearts already that I can't imagine my life without him.

And now I am going to go listen to Adele's "Make You Feel My Love" and "My First Child" by Nil Lara and maybe cry some more.

Updates!

For my first post of 2010, I give you updates. Updates on the holidays, mainly. Next time I'll fill you in on baby updates.

So. Christmas.

This was the year we spent Christmas Eve at my in-laws' house, eating delicious spaghetti and meatballs made by my brother-in-law, Lou. We watched Julie & Julia in front of the fireplace and stayed toasty warm in spite of the impending snowstorm.

This was the year it snowed on Christmas Eve, a lot. Like a foot or so of snow, on top of a layer of ice. Andrew and I actually had to get picked up in my father-in-law's truck or we would have been stuck in our house on Christmas Day. Then it snowed all day, and maybe the next day, and then a day of sunshine, then some more snow. And it was cold. Very cold. And the roads were slick and hard to drive on, which made all the family-and-friend-visiting more difficult.

This was the year Andrew and I opened our presents for each other at home, early (we were supposed to be at the in-laws' by 9:00), in front of our non-lit fireplace. Our unborn baby got a Spider Man ornament. He gave us Arrested Development on DVD. Andrew gave me a fancypants diaper bag (the exact one I wanted) and some lovely nursing/maternity pajamas. I gave Andrew a hoodie and a cardboard deer head (I swear it's cooler than it sounds).

This was the year we spent Christmas morning at my in-laws' house. It was especially nice because both Andrew's sisters could be there, so we were all together. We took turns opening gifts, and kept laughing because we all got iterations of the same things, so as soon as the first person opened it, we pretty much knew what was coming. But that made it all the more fun, because it was sort of a race to open something first.

This was the year we only opened our stockings at my parents on Christmas afternoon. We saved the rest of it for when my sister and family could join us. When they arrived, we celebrated Christmas a few days late--but it felt like Christmas Day. We ate our traditional brunch, drank hot chocolate, and opened presents. Baby got lots of presents, too. And Andrew and I were pleasantly surprised to receive both the crib and rocker from my parents. Now as soon as we get it all put together, the room will be practically complete. But I digress, because this post isn't supposed to be about baby updates.

This was the year that my company closed its doors from Dec. 24 through Jan. 3, and we all had to use four days of PTO whether we wanted to or not. I wasn't a big fan of this policy from the start, but it turned out to be a nice break. I spent some time sorting through a bunch of junk and starting a garage sale pile. I slept late, or at least as late as I could with this 2.5-pound person squirming around in my mid-section. I saw lots of friends and spent lots of time with family. So in the end, I enjoyed the long break from work.

Oh, and one more--this was the year my sister announced that she is pregnant with Baby #2. Hooray for her! So next Christmas we'll have three babies in the family. How fun will that be?

Noteworthy Thursday #29

Dear Baby,

Well, you've been in there 26 weeks now (Okay, okay, fine. The first two weeks don't really count. Pregnancy math is hard. As is all math, if you ask me. But don't ask me. Ask your father. Or your Uncle Jeff.). I just wanted to remind you to stay put for a few more months. I just read about a somewhat infamous reality show star (for lack of a better term) who developed preeclampsia and had to deliver her 19th child (I know! That's a lot of kids!) at only 25 weeks. 25 weeks! That's way too early! That baby only weighed 1 pound, 6 ounces. Baby, you probably are already bigger than that, and even though you are already making my back hurt sometimes, I want you to grow and grow and grow, until you're nice and chubby and squishy and chompable. Then you can come out into the world and I will give you kisses.

Do we have a deal? I will keep you warm and safe (and I will stay away from the extra-spicy foods), and you will keep growing until you are nice and ripe. Okay, it's settled. See you in March!

Love,
Momma

Momma at 26 Weeks

Happy Birthday to Me

Last Friday was my birthday, and it was lovely. I received some fantastic gifts, including a fancypants camera and lens from Andrew (I’ve been talking about taking a photography class forever, and now I have no more excuses), a gift certificate for a prenatal massage, some lovely notepaper, some tasty goodies, an adorable brooch, and lots of cards. Oh, and with some birthday money from my parents (and a hefty discount for being a Hallmark employee) I bought this lovely bag for myself.

The gifts weren’t the only good part. Two of my best work friends took me to lunch (which included a stop at Sheridan’s!) and talked me into buying the fabulous bag. That’s what friends are for—getting a girl frozen custard on her birthday and helping her make good shopping decisions.

We also went to dinner at Potpie, my fave restaurant, with two fantastic people whose names easily become one (one of whom will be mad about the fact that I am about to call them this) (and on the INTERNET, no less), Jeffanie. Since I am expecting/knocked up/have a bun in the oven/pregnant, I refrained from having wine with dinner, which has always been one of my favorite parts of going to Potpie—sitting for a long time, sipping the wine, and talking. But Andrew—my lovely, amazing husband—somehow snuck in a bottle of sparkling grape juice just for me. He gave it to the server and everything, who brought it to me as if it were any other beverage. (Of course, Andrew got lucky that I went to the restroom first thing upon entering the restaurant, so he didn’t have to be THAT sneaky.) I was confused at first, because the grape juice looked just like wine. But only two people at the table ordered wine, and there were three glasses, so… Confused. It was a wonderful birthday surprise and a wonderful 28th birthday.

The One In Which We Register

Have I ever told you about the time Andrew and I registered for wedding gifts? No? Well. I’m not really going to tell you now, except to say that we hated every single stinking minute of it. Registering sounded so fun, you get the little scanner and you go around and pick out things you would like. Easy, right? Oh, so terribly wrong.

We couldn’t make up our minds about anything, and the pressure to make the right decisions, quickly, was very overwhelming. Take towels. Which towels were the best? Are those soft enough? Do they come in the colors we want? And what exactly are those colors? How am I supposed to pick out what color towels we will someday want in our future guest bath? All for a few pieces of terrycloth.

In the end, I think we went back to the store no fewer than three times to finally register for everything we “needed.”

Last Saturday we made the trek out to register for baby stuff. Since we knew how much we hated registering for wedding gifts, we came prepared. We had three separate lists of recommended baby gear from trusted sources, and a plan to not over think anything. We’d get in, scan the things we needed, scan a few super cute things, and get out.

The trip started out well enough. We got the forms filled out and received our scanner. Checking our lists, we began moving through the store. Our first stop was “infant care” (which is sort of a vague name for a section in a baby store, don’t you think?) and we quickly found ourselves faced with a bottle dilemma. I’m planning to breastfeed, so we don’t think we will need that many bottles. (All you parents out there may be snorting with laughter at my naivety. All I ask is that you let me down gently.) One of our list writers recommended two or three brands that she liked, and since we had no clue (and have read that our baby may reject any particular bottle just for kicks) we decided to go with what was recommended. But the list failed to mention that for each of the brands, there were numerous options. Too many options.

But after several minutes staring blankly at the packaging and furiously scanning our lists, hoping to see something we missed, something to clue us in as to what we should be looking for, we sort of gave up. We scanned two or three bottles (BPA-free, of course) and moved on to pacifiers. From then on, we were a little more carefree about the whole thing, figuring that we could always adjust our choices online and that since we couldn’t predict what Baby Langford would like anyway, we might as well not stress over it.

Almost two hours later, we found ourselves on the other side of the store, faced with the task of selecting one of those play mats, with the arches and the dangly toys and the bright colors. There really weren’t that many to choose from. Andrew was fond of one in particular, but I disliked it for some reason. I wasn’t really excited about any of them. Did I want my baby to look at an underwater scene or a jungle scene? Should we get one that played music? Was the smaller round one okay, or were the colors a bit too primary? It was ridiculous.

My head was spinning. The aisle was crowded, and Andrew couldn’t fit the cart through (BTW, we had a cart just to hold my water bottle and the three lists, not for actual purchasing of product. In case you were wondering.), so he went to the next row over to check out some toys. I looked up to see that he was not intently studying that play mats like I was and got frustrated. Why was he not helping me figure out this great mystery of the universe? He said he couldn’t fit the cart through and was waiting for it to get less crowded. But I need your help nowwww, I whined. And so he came over, and we stood in silence for a moment, again looking at the display.

And then the tears started rolling down my face. “Let’s go,” I said. “I need to get out of here.” So Andrew turned in the scanner while I composed myself and go we did.

I don’t really think the tears had anything to do with the floor mats. It was all just such a huge process. And when I tried to visualize one of those mats in our home I just didn’t know where it would go. Suddenly all those things we had been scanning became real products that we would soon own and soon have to find a place to put in our house. How are we really going to have a baby? How are we going to figure out how to do it? We couldn’t even figure out which stupid play mat was best, or what all those differently sized waterproof pads were really intended for, or why babies need specific baby washcloths. And it was all just a little overwhelming.

Or maybe I can blame this one on the hormones?

The Recordable Storybook is Going Fast!

If you have been thinking about purchasing the new recordable storybook from Hallmark, don't wait! The Night Before Christmas is selling so well, Hallmark is predicting it will sell out well before, well, the night before Christmas. This book truly makes a fantastic keepsake for the people you love, so hurry out and get your hands on a copy before they're all gone.

(And I'm no expert, but if I had a guess, I'd say that just a couple of months after Christmas, around Valentine's Day, one of the other recordable storybooks, All the Ways I Love You, just may sell out, too. Don't procrastinate!)

Thanksgiving 2009: an essay in photos

I present The Turkey. This is the first entire turkey I have ever purchased, and I went all out. This guy is local, free-range, pasture-fed, the whole thing. He weighed in at a modest 12.8 pounds.

Naked turkey! I was a bit baffled by that flap of skin binding the legs. But eventually I stretched it off. Gross. But if I thought THAT was gross, I should have just waited... (ooh, foreshadowing!)

Here is me, pulling out the giblets. (Why is it that no one ever uses that word any other time of the year?)

The turkey, the organs, and my belly.

This photo was taken near the beginning of this process, when I was all into taking pictures. These are just a few of the aromatics that were to go inside the turkey, you know, for their aroma.

And look! Now there are also carrots and everything is chopped.

And then the turkey got stuffed full of aromatics, and then the whole thing went in the fridge overnight, then I got up early and melted butter and brushed it over the turkey, and salted and peppered it, then put it in the oven (tented with foil, of course), then with an hour to go, brushed more butter over it, removed the foil, and then voila! The turkey you see here was ready!

Our first meal at our new dining table. Also our first meal to be eaten in the formal dining room. So nice that we could share it with our parents and Andrew's sister and brother-in-law.

Here is my mom, making the gravy. Our first gravy attempt was a big fat FAIL. Thankfully my mom was there and knew how to just start over. I was all, oh noes, gravy lumpy! And she was all, psssshhh, you no worry, I fix. And she did.

Andrew's first ever turkey carving, taught by the turkey-carving master, my dad.

Two and a half Langfords, posing in front of the buffet-style meal.

Yum, pies. Delicious pumpkin, of course, and the delectable Tollhouse cookie pie that was always somewhat of a Thanksgiving tradition at my house. The perfect end to a perfectly lovely Thanksgiving meal.

Updated (and current) belly - Week 22

I give you another photo of my ever-growing belly. This time you'll notice that the background looks a little different than last time. The baby's room has been painted! It's starting to feel like a room that we might actually use. Weird, it's like we're really going to have another member of the family soon.

Noteworthy Thursday #28

Dear Baby,

Hi. I’m your mom. Since we’ve been spending so much time together, I thought I ought to introduce myself. I suppose some might say that we’ve already been getting to know each other for the last few months, but I still can’t wait to meet you.

I’m fairly certain that you’re going to be amazing. But don’t just take it from me. Your daddy thinks so, too. You know him? That guy that talks and sings to you sometimes? He loves you a lot. A whole lot. I know your daddy pretty well, so trust me when I tell you that he is so happy and excited to get to know you. It makes me happy to see him so happy. But back to my point—you’re going to be amazing. You’re already pretty amazing.

I don’t even know your name, but I already know that I love you. And I know when you’re hungry. And I know when you’re sleepy. And I know that you have an incredible future in front of you. Maybe you’ll play the guitar like Daddy. Maybe you’ll love to write stories like me. You might be an excellent dancer or you might love to sing. Maybe you’ll be a scientist or an actor or a poet or a zookeeper. Maybe you’ll be the kid who eats paste. The possibilities are endless. I love imagining who you will become.

I can hardly believe that it is only a few more months until I will hold you in my arms. I will snuggle you and kiss you and rock you back and forth. I will sing to you and tell you stories. I will even let you in on all my secrets because I know you won’t tell anybody. (I know this all must sound very enticing, but please don’t try to show up to the party early. You need to stay in there and cook a little bit longer.)

I love you, Baby. I’m so glad I get to be your momma.

Love,
Momma

It's true!

I'm now 21 weeks pregnant. One of the pregnancy calendar-type things I read told me that at 21 weeks, I should be able to not only easily feel the baby move from outside, but I should be able to visually see my belly moving. Because "cynical" is my middle name, I obviously did not believe this for one gosh-darn minute.

Also, Andrew has actually only felt the baby move one time. Not one series of movements, just one little kick. It was last Thursday, and it was kind of magical. Our little guy mostly moves around mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Not so much moving at times when Andrew and I are in the same zip code. So it was very awesome for him to get to feel it. He said, "So he just pokes you like that all day?" Yeah, sort of.

Back to my original point. I have been feeling sort of behind, pregnancy-wise, because it seems that my belly might be smaller than average for this stage of the game. (Of course, the people who think this probably don't know shit about shit, but there it is, all the same.) I figured no way could my teeny baby's teeny kicks with his teeny feet possibly be SEEN from the outside, but this afternoon I felt some movements, and since the mandatory training session I was at was less than helpful, I decided to watch my belly for awhile.

And it moved. (Bet you didn't see THAT one coming, eh?) It visibly popped a little when he kicked. So weird. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He is supposedly sort of huge right now. Do you have a standard sheet of paper nearby? Hold it up in front of you vertically. That is basically how long the baby is (minus one itty bitty half inch). Think about that for a second, I'll wait.

Yeah. I KNOW.