A Friday Night Confession

It’s Friday night and I’m going to bed early. Why? Not because I’m sick. Somehow I’ve managed to stay clear of the nasty cough my husband still has. Not even because I’m all that tired (LOVE the second trimester energy!). I confess that I am going to go lay in bed in hopes of feeling my baby move. It’s okay…I’ll say it for you…LOSER! PREGNANT FREAK!

But really, the last few nights I *thought* I felt something. Just little twinges and flickers here and there. Could be gas…but there was no dutch oven effect to show for it. I kinda really maybe think it was the baby! I can only feel it when I get really still at night though. So I’m off to lay in bed and concentrate on the inner-workings of my body. I’m very excited about my Friday night date with the alien. Excuse me while I go obsess…

13 weeks 4 days

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“I’ve already ordered the bubble.”

My husband is sick.  Not like a puking sick, and it doesn’t seem like the flu.  It’s just the kind of sick you must get a couple times a year when your body tells you, “HEY JERKFACE!  WHY DON’T YOU GET SOME DAMN SLEEP!”  He was up for nearly 40 hours  straight last Thursday and Friday and I think it finally caught up with him.  Well, he – of course – thinks it’s the fekking plague, and that he’s terribly contagious and that I must stay far, far away from him for fear of making the baby ill.  I told him if I’m going to get it, I’m going to get it.  Him holding a sheet over his face as he talks to me is not going to prevent the germs from spreading when we live in the same place, sleep in the same bed, etc.

Now, even though he claims to be so sick he insists on going to work.  The man is crazy when it comes to sick days – HE NEVER USES THEM!  I told him if he is well enough to go to work then that means  he must not be contagious because surely he would be responsible enough to not expose his coworkers to that.  The rest of our conversation went like this -

Me:  If you are well enough to go to work, then you are just fine to be around me without freaking out about me getting sick.

Him: Jill, nobody at work is pregnant.

Me: Pregnant women get sick.  It happens.  I will be fine.  I can not live in a bubble for the next six months!

Him:  Oh yes you can.  I already ordered the bubble.  It will be here soon.  Don’t worry, I’ll push you around in it.

Fes up…who sent him the mail order pregnancy bubble catalog?

13 weeks 1 day

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It’s official – I’m a fashion victim

I am stuck in limbo between the cute clothes I once sported pre baby gut and boob explosion that are still hanging neatly in my closet probably never to be touched again and maternity clothes, which most of the time look so ridiculous on the hanger that I can’t even bring myself to try them on. I mean really, what the hell is up with all the fucking bows? Just because we are carrying the “gift of life” doesn’t mean we need to look like a damn birthday package.

I have a few pairs of jeans that I can still wear IF I connect the button to the button hole via two hair elastics…klassy. I also have a pair of low rise jeans that really help to accentuate my ponch…er…baby belly. Really they just make me look like the girl who gained 10 lbs and refuses to buy new clothes. My shirts…well…there are very few that are up for the challenge these days. If they can manage to stretch over my chest region, they come up too short to cover the oh so dazzling elastics holding my jeans together. Yes, I’ve tried that Bella Band thing, and it will suffice for the time being, but it does get quite annoying walking around all day with my pants undone, only to be covered by a sheer piece of stretchy fabric. I’m not fooling anyone. The worst part is the band always give me grandpa butt (saggy pants). And even though I really haven’t noticed the size of my butt getting any bigger (if it would, perhaps I would not have grandpa butt), suddenly my underwear are getting a little uncomfortable and digging into the sides of my hips.

**Note to all people pondering what they could buy a pregnant woman if they so desired to get her a little “congrats on the pregnancy” gift. I don’t think you can go wrong with a gift card to Victoria’s Secret (or other nice lingerie establishments). I feel like now, of all times in my life, I want to be most comfortable and do not fee like squishing myself into old/ill-fitting underwear or new polyester blends from the discount store. However, I think that mom mode has started to kick in and I find it incredibly difficult to justify shelling out loads of money on new bras and panties.

As far as maternity clothes go, I have bought a few things – a pair of jeans, and three long sleeve t-shirts. Up until a couple weeks ago, the jeans fit great because I was so bloated. I still wear them from time to time now, but since the bloat has gone way down I just look like I’m playing dress up (although I can’t deny that jeans with elastic waists are COMFY). The same goes for the shirts. I need a pretty visible bump to pull those off, not just an expanded waistline.

So here I am in fashion purgatory. Do I go buy regular clothes in larger sizes? Seems logical, right? Ideally, I could wear them after birth, too. But there is something really depressing about shopping for bigger sizes, pregnant or not, and I have no idea how long these new sizes will fit me. If I have to skip on into maternity clothes in another month, I’d just as soon hold out and get more of those.

I have been to the mall several times over the last few weeks in search of SOMETHING to wear…anything, but I come home empty handed every time. Instead of committing to a new shirt or some bigger jeans, I spend my time eying all the great new clothes that I’m missing out on this fall. Breezing through Ann Taylor Loft = sadness. I just can’t bring myself to buy anything at this stage. As a result, I’ve damned myself to a life of sweat pants, sports bras and maybe three nice casual tops (that cover the elastic on my jeans). Add to that my recent lack of desire to put on a full face of makeup and my inability to wear any shoe with a heel higher than 1/2 inch and you have a full fledged fashion victim. I am becoming my irrational fear.

12 weeks 4 days

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Over the shoulder boulder holder

Hear ye, hear ye! I would like to announce that my breasts have reached a whole new level of enormousness, and I am now rocking a 38 D bra!!! Holy guacamole! Let us all pray to the patron saint of boobies….who would that be….maybe Anna Nicole could get that title….that I do not grow any bigger up top or I fear I will become like one of those Weeble Woble people we all used to play with, except reversed.

Someone mentioned to me that it’s great that they are growing so much. It means I won’t have any problems producing enough milk for the baby. Well hell, at this rate I think I can stand in for the Fire Department when all is said and done and help put out small kitchen fires with these puppies. I’m terrified of how much bigger they may get. I know of a girl who ended up with F cup boobs! And she was not a large girl to begin with. At least I have a little height on my side. My 5’9″ frame can hold them up much better than that poor girl who couldn’t have been much taller than 5’5″.

Oh, and my favorite comment so far is “Your husband must be enjoying them!” Girl please! You think he’s even allowed to TOUCH them? Oh HELL no! These are clearly not for his pleasure any longer….or for mine for that matter. These are working breasts. They are on a mission and they have developed defense mechanisms to keep all fondling at bay.

12 weeks 1 day

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