Moving on out

Oh my god, people, the MOVING.

There are boxes and boxes and boxes in our tiny house. I think I may have even boxed Josh, marked him KITCHEN and used the subset "husband" in my labeling. I shit you not, there approximately 80 packed boxes in my house and 50 of them are related to the kitchen.

You see, I fancy myself a cook. We host dinner parties pretty often and I am a freak and do things like make my own sorbet. So when we got married I was all, "Hot damn! Free shopping spree in the cooking departments with other people's money!"

And when we got 16 place settings of China and crystal, I mean, my God, we were going to use it all the time. Now granted, we have indeed already used the China on several occasions. But what in the sam-hell was I thinking?

Josh told me not to unpack the wedding gifts. I remember staring at him incredulously and shrieking at a decibel slightly above dog whistle, that I had all this nice pretty new stuff and damn it, I was going to USE it.

And each and every box that I packed this week came along with a curse and fist shaking toward the heavens about my stupidity.

Internet, if you are planning to move anytime in the next five years, START PACKING NOW.

I have decided we are not unpacking anything in the new house. We're only planning to stay there for three years. That's nothing! That's practically like renting. I can live out of boxes for that long. The baby can have two boxes when it arrives. One for sleeping and one for it's clothing. That's it.

So the packing and the packing and the packing, it continues this week. I single-handedly packed the kitchen this week while Josh was in Bloomington. Yes, the pregnant lady in this family boxed, taped and pushed into little piles ALL of the accumulated shit in our kitchen. And I whined about it later.

I even went so far as to walk three blocks to a local liquor store, secure some boxes, and carry them home three blocks. Uphill. In the snow. With no shoes.

Oh yeah, and the sick, it continues. Every day. Sick, sick, sick, blah, blah, blah. The doctor showed us the placenta at the appointment this week and I said, "Great! Doesn't that mean since the placenta is taking over than I should stop getting sick?"

I said this with an expectant smile on my face and a pleading quality to my voice.

And she responded, "Yep, in a couple of weeks."

Noooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I want to stop now. Please. Please? Please!

10-week appointment

We had out 10-week appointment today. The doctor tried to hear the heartbeat on the Doppler, but of course prefaced it by saying, "It's probably too soon to hear it."

And of course, it was. So we had to "settle" for an ultrasound.

And what fun -- I graduated from the dildocam to the regular ole abdominal ultrasound. I missed the dildocam. But alas, I made do.

So we got to see the baby. It was still blobish and it was a pretty low-quality machine, so we really had a hard time seeing anything. She showed us the heartbeat, said it was good, and showed us the chambers of the heart.

Of course she could have been showing us my colon and the digestion of the Wendy's chicken sandwich I ate for lunch and we would have nodded and said sure, sure, we see it.

That was it. No picture, no heartbeat count. Nothin.

Well, all righty then. I gained a whole pound in four weeks. And my stomach, yeah it's way bigger. So that's pretty cool.

So all in all, a rather boring appointment. She gave me the OK to paint but told me to wear a mask when we're ripping down the drywall and whatnot. So yeeha, home remodeling, here we coming.

T-minus-6 days til the big move. And we're about 1/3 packed. But I am going to have a PackingPalooza this week while Josh is in Bloomington and I stay home by my lonesome. Not even any kitties to keep me company.

The tummy, it is huge

So "the stomach that ate Bloomington" is in full effect.

I look HU-MON-GOUS. I am in my 10th week of pregnancy and I swear to God I could pass for four months. At least.

Now I am not one for belly pix. I hate looking at people's big ole white stomachs and ohmygod it's huge and how the HELL do you sleep with that on you and all that. So I will spare you the photo here. But if you want to see, and it does not assault your senses, you can click here to see the hugeness. For comparison, click here to see where I was at four weeks when we started this little project. The angle is a little different, but you can see the general idea. The tummy, it was flat-ish once.

Yesterday I ate very well, if I do say so myself.

I was watching "The View" and they had a segment on salad bars. Well at that moment, there was nothing I had ever wanted more in my whole life than a salad bar salad. Sp I called Josh. In order to get said salad, he would have to drive home from work to give me the car.

He asked why I had not thought of this that morning so I could have just driven him.

HELLO? PREGNANT? Like I could have possibly known I would want salad. That's just wrong.

So he huffed and said he would come home. Mumbled something about being busy.

Except when he got here, he asked me sheepishly if I could drop him off at the Mexican place so he could have lunch with his friends. Whaaaat!? I thought he was busy. Hurmpf.

So I got my salad. And it was the best salad EVER in this history of the world. It was very healthy: spinach, romaine, red cabbage, mushrooms, eggs, cheese, chicken, tomato. Lots of super foods! Yay for the baby.

For breakfast I had Raisin Bran! Healthy! And for a snack, a smoothie! Healthy! And for dinner, whole wheat pasta with spicy peanut sauce and red pepper and cucumbers! Healthy! And a mint Oreo Blizzard for dessert! HA! Not healthy. But baby wanted it.

And I wonder why the tummy ate Bloomington -- it's cuz I eat Blizzards at 9:30 p.m.

Calm before the storm

So we are back from the relaxing vacation. I wish I was still there. We read a lot, laid by the pool, took a little boat cruise, went out for dinners and played some mini-golf. It was exactly what this girl needed before embarking on the Great Home Remodel of 2005.

In two weeks, we move to the new house. And then it begins.

We're moving the furnace and water heater. We're widening doorways. We're knocking down existing walls. We're building new walls. We're completely ripping out the kitchen. We have a bathroom (according to me) that needs desperate modifications. It's yellow, people. Do you know what that does for a complexion? But it's just fine (according to Josh). We also need new carpeting in the bedrooms and probably a good refinishing on the hardwood floors downstairs.

So yeah, I think we have our hands full for the next several months.

Currently, we are in the middle of packing.

We have made some progress. We have completed the office, our bedroom closet, my 3,476 books on the shelves in the living room, Josh's dresser contents and the bakeware. I feel like things are taking shape.

I am hosting my book club at the house on Thursday because no one else volunteered. We have a lovely patio out back with a gazebo. It's also supposed to be 95 on Thursday. I told the girls unless anyone melts into a little puddle in front of my very eyes, there will be book club OUTDOORS.

That is, unless they want to discuss "The Handmaid's Tale" from several different locations on the house as we yell over stacks of boxes.

I am starting to worry because I want all of this to be done by the beginning of February. Because, duh, the baby is coming and the baby needs to have the 42-inch cherry cabinets installed and will only eat food out of the Subzero fridge that is warmed on the Viking stove.

The baby really wants to luxuriate in a new bathtub too. With a tumbled marble surround. Baby likes nice shit.

Unfortunately, nice shit -- yeah it costs money. Lots of money. Money we do not have saved up anymore because we spent it all on the expensive-ass house in Lincoln Park. I mean hi, we have to live up to standards now. We can't be the ghetto house with the ugly carpet and the white walls right?

HA. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha.

I know this will not happen overnight. I know these things will take time. But I ain't got time. I ain't got money either. Maybe I could pimp myself out at the Home Depot in exchange for some labor? I mean what screams "sexy" more than a fat chick with maternity jeans?

A welcome respite

So I started the Cleocin. Tonight will be my last night with that. MY OB said it was safe
and I called the prescribing doc back again just to be 100% sure it was safe and he said
yes.

I started to relax when I read a little message board post that lots of medications say
"do not take if pregnant" because the FDA is loathe to test drugs on pregnant women.
There are even directions on Progesterone suppositories "do not use if pregnant" and OBs
specifically prescribe that for women in high-risk pregnancies.

So I guess all is well.

It also did not cause any spotting, which was pretty nice.

This weekend we are vacationing in Lake Geneva with my parents and my sister and her husband. I am currently blogging poolside. This dacquiri is mighty tasty. As is the cigarette I’m enjoying. Without sunscreen.

But it is very nice. We're staying in a condo on a lake. There's a nice pool and it's sunny and warm. My mom is waiting on me, which is always nice, and my dad even made a special trip to the store to buy me some peanut butter. Niiiiiiiice.

I have felt pretty good the last few days, very few episodes of nausea. I dare say the worst may be behind me.

Yesterday I bought some Preggo Pops at the maternity store. They are sweet and sour and supposed to help with the nausea. I did not look at a single item of clothing there -- too weird and I need my sister with me for the first outing.

But I did buy my first maternity clothes, well, kind of.

I buy about 90 percent of my wardrobe at Express. And this season, the style that's all the rage in "The O.C. watching Crowd" is strappy tanks that look like maternity tops. Brilliant!

Express was having their end-of-summer clearance so I got two shirts. They zare totally in style now, and when we go to Barbados in September and I am starting to show, they will be perfect.

Yay. But since they're not really maternity per se, I don't have to count them as really being maternity.

Fun with suppositories

So at yesterday's appointment, the doc told me that I have the very, very beginnings of a bacterial infection. The urine test came out negative, but the swab under the scope showed some bacteria.

So he prescribed a three-day course of Cleocin suppositories. But when I looked it up online, there was all this scary stuff about NOT TAKING IT WHILE PREGNANT. Ummm, hello, OB doctor why would you give me this?

So now I am very scared to take it. I have read lots that leaving a bacterial infection untreated can lead to premature labor, but that Cleocin can also cause miscarriage in the first trimester.

Which is, you know, really fun.

This is what I found on several sites: "Reproduction studies have been performed in rats and mice using subcutaneous and oral doses of clindamycin ranging from 100 to 600 mg/kg/day and have revealed no evidence of impaired fertility or harm to the fetus due to clindamycin. There are, however, no adequate and well-controlled studies in pregnant women. Because animal reproduction studies are not always predictive of human response, this drug should be used during pregnancy only if clearly needed."

Now normally, I take my animal reproductive studies pretty seriously. I mean come on, rat sex is interesting! But not so much when it relates to the possibility that I could dead-ify The Blob.

Now realize, this medicine was prescribed by a new doc, not my normal OB. And of course, I hate to be rude, so why would I call him back? I mean who am I to question his idea? I don't have a medical degree, although I do have an extensive catalogue of internet research I could fall back on. I feel qualified to perform most gynecological tests, considering how much I have read about conception and pregnancy.

Since I see my regular OB in two weeks, I decided to hold off on taking the meds last night and give her a call. Her nurse, a very sweet woman who always sounds so confused by my questions, said she would page my doctor. She had just gone to lunch.

For the love of God, let the woman eat! Don't ruin her sandwich and soup with talk of vaginal bacteria. So I waited. And she called back about two hours later.

My doctor said to go ahead and take it.

Let me just state, for the record, right now. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS I AM SUING MY DOCTORS. One of Josh's best friends is a personal injury attorney. We know people. I will not be messed with. I will become the Erin Brockovich of bacterial infection medication.

Maybe I should just stop reading the damn internet and scaring the living crap out of myself. That's an idea.

That's of course after I get through the next three days of this medication.

Hello there

So we got to see the baby again today.

I had a little spotting over the weekend -- it was red for about 1.5 seconds and then nothing and then a little brown here and there every couple of hours but just the tiniest tiniest bit. Since I did not have any cramping and it was at eight weeks (the time some women experience hormonal bleeds) I was not worried.

My mom had told me it would be good to see a doctor in Bloomington a few times during the pregnancy, just to make sure someone here knew me in case anything went wrong, so I called today and explained the situation. They said they could get me in next Monday.

Then I said the magic words.

"Well, I had a little spotting this weekend."

That opened the secret door and they found me an appointment right away.

Josh got to come with me, and since there was spotting, they wanted to do an ultrasound. No objection here. I mean my God, it's been a whole two weeks since the dildo cam was in use. I was starting to feel left out.

The doctor found the baby right away, and it has officially gone from The Smudge to The Blob. It's twice as big as it was two weeks ago, and it now measures 10mm (1.6 cm). We got to the see the head was down and the butt was up and then we saw the heartbeat, which came in at a chart-topping 172 BPM. Yes, we have an over-achiever since everything I have read says most babies range from 120-160.

The doc said everything is fine, the baby is doing great and there's no reason to worry. He said he thinks I have the very beginnings of a bacterial infection, which is very common during pregnancy, so he prescribed a three-day course of suppositories that should clean that right up.

Inserting something into my crotch -- will the fun never end with this pregnancy?

This has been a pretty good day. The nausea seems to be abating somewhat. Of course I probably just cursed myself with that and I will be puking my brains out tomorrow. But I actually had an appetite today and ate a little applesauce, string cheese and popcorn around 4 p.m. Whoo hoo.

So everything is just great in my uterus. Looks like we might actually get a baby out of this!

Thinking of London

Yesterday, terrorists attacked London. They set off three bombs in the Underground and one in a doubledecker bus. More than 50 people were killed and upwards of 800 injured.

I awoke to the news on the Today Show and watched the breaking news on MSNBC all day. It was incredibly sad.

Josh and I have been to London twice together, and he's been there a few times before me. I loved that city and while we were there, we used the Underground like locals. The thought of all those poor, innocent people suffering and undergoing such a horrific experience made me very sad.

It makes you realize how fleeting life is and how things can be taken away from you in second. My thoughts are with all the people there.

After I had watched a little news about the attack, I started to think about Sept. 11. That morning, Josh was the one who woke me with the terrible news and told me to turn on the TV. I had worked at a night game the night before, and it had gone extra innings. I didn't get home until almost 3 a.m. and had planned to sleep in.

The phone woke me at 7:45 a.m. and I heard Josh's voice.

"I'm sleeping," I whined.

"Amy, a plane hit the World Trade Center. Turn on the news," he said.

My first response was something about a commuter plane and he said no, it was much worse.

That was a defining moment in our relationship. Afterward, I remember being so affected by the calls and messages people on the top floors of the Trade Center had left for their loved ones. They all ended in "I love you."

At the time, Josh and I were not at that stage. Or rather, we were, but neither one of us was vocalizing it.

Things came to a head over a dinner at my house about 10 days later. I said that we didn't even say, "I love you." And that's when we both said it for the first time. I still remember it clearly: there was a roast chicken I made for dinner and I was crying at the table.

I will always look back on that and think that Sept. 11 somehow brought us closer, although I am sure it would have happened one way or another.

Yesterday, I was the one who told Josh about London, while he was getting ready for work. Granted, the two events were not the same in scope, but for the people it affected in each case, I am sure it seems very much the same. Their loved ones were killed for no reason by terrorists.

As I think about the world we are bringing this baby into, sometimes I think it's a little bit sad. Our baby will grow up in a world where the terror level is raised and lowered, where you have to watch for unattended satchels on the El and where a terrorist can change your life in an instant.

Nosy minds want to know

Bad, bad blogger. No updates for a week? Terrible.

How will I remember to find time for the baby if I can't make time to update my blog?

I have been remiss because we have been a'travelin.

Friday, we went to Milwaukee for the Tom Petty concert at Summerfest. Saturday, we got on a plane and flew to Minneapolis for a family reunion on Josh's side. Sunday, we got back on a plane and flew home. Then we went to a party at my friend Leah's house and watched the fireworks at Josh's office downtown. Monday, we drove up to Milwaukee for the annual family parade and cookout and then we drove all the way to Bloomington.

I am tired all over again just looking at that.

But the weekend was very fun. There was some espionage and deception involved with the family reunion.

We decided we did not want a big fuss and big announcement about The Smudge (that's what I call the baby since that's what it looks like on the ultrasound). Oh yes, I forgot to post that last week. Without further ado, introducing, The Smudge.



So back to the intrigue of Minneapolis.

I was not feeling well -- shocker -- and we headed over to Josh's cousin's house for dinner. We were ferried about 30 minutes away in a minivan and I was sitting all the way in the back. Now for those who know me, you know I get carsick at the drop of a tire. So there I was, sitting in the way-back, already nauseas, and now I am carsick on top of it.

When we arrive, I make sure everyone knows "I AM CARSICK."

Oh but no. People are eyeing my water suspiciously. Looking at me oddly. Asking how I feel.

Thankfully, the cousin who asked Josh's mom the night before, "So are they pregnant yet?" was not in attendance. Because if she had asked me, the answer would have been, "Well we're having a lot of sex so hopefully, something will happen real soon. In fact, would you like us to head back to bedroom and try it out now?"

The next morning, we had a brunch at a Greek restaurant. With a buffet. Bad. Bad. Bad.

Queasy, everything smelled and I could barely look at three-quarters of the food.

Apparently halfway through the meal, Josh's three cousins corner his sister Marnie. They exchange, apparently, went something like this:

Cousins: "So, is she?"
Marnie: "So is who what?"
C: "Is Amy pregnant?"
M: "Why would you ask that?"
C: "Because she looks just like Staci did when she was pregnant. She looks sick and tired and pregnant.
(Editorial comment inserted here: "Wow, thanks, glad I look like shit. Thanks for playing")
M: "Not that I know of. I know my brother said they were going to start trying after they go to Japan in the fall. But if they tell me, I'll be sure to let you know."

Now what the hell is wrong with people? If I have something to tell you, I WILL TELL YOU. If I don't want to tell you I am pregnant because I am scared something could go wrong, guess what, I'm not telling you. It's as simple as that.

It pissed me off because it's really nobody's business but mine and Josh's. If we want to wait nine months to tell people, that is our prerogative. But if you want to speculate about it, please keep it to yourself.

Besides, would I ask them about their sex lives? Because that's pretty much where you're going with that question. It's like asking, "So hey, are you having lots of unprotected sex? Because we really hope you are."