So I’m about 14 weeks now, which puts me technically in the second trimester. You would think that since I’ve done this whole thing before, I wouldn’t be such an amateur about it and know what to expect/how to handle stuff.
But it’s way different. (Which is totally why I think it’s a boy, btw. A boy!)
Food is gross. Pizza is gross. Hamburgers are gross. Chinese food, taco bell, ALL SO GROSS. Which is in comparison to last time, when I ate everything in sight, edible or not. Just hoofed it down, banking on my crazy stomach acid to take care of the rest. This time, more fruit, plain bagels, pasta, are all on the okay list. Also not okay- cake, ice cream, most candy, chocolate- because come on that stuff is just so gross. I guess it’s good because the unhealthy things taste absolutely horrid to me- hopefully I won’t gain 467 pounds like I did last time. Sometimes at night before bed I get my teeth brushed and everything and then I have to spoil it with a piece of toast. (Which Jazz fixes for me. And if he burns the top, he cuts that part off with a large knife, because he is a boy and thinks it’s okay. Boys are so funny!)
This is the fluff stage. Well, for me the fluff stage came back AS SOON as Isabelle was born and pretty much stayed since then. This is the awkward “is she pregnant? or just super fluffs?” part where maternity clothes are too big and my regular clothes cling to not so strategic places. I’m sure the people that see me regularly are like, hey micci, get some more shirts- you wear the same three over and over. One of which, I purchased christmas of 2008. I feel very up to date and trendy, as you can tell. Tonight I got all gussied up to attend a show for one of my friends- (shes an independent musician touring the west coast). I wore makeup and lipstick and heels and everything. Anyway, while I was there I got my first bump pat…except I have less of a bump at this point, and more of a fluff jiggle. Nope, sorry that’s not the baby, just the three enchiladas I totally devoured half hour ago. I’m always slightly jealous of the super slim girls who have an instant basketball after they get a positive pregnancy test. Some of us take a little longer to appear pregnant, OKAY? Of course, I’m super grateful that I am pregnant at all. I had to say that so anybody reading this blog knows I’m happy to be sick/nauseous/fat/whatever for awhile in return for an infant. See? not ungrateful.
Last night we heard the heartbeat for the first time. I know we should have heard it by now, but both times I have seen my OB he has given me a quick ultrasound. The first one was scheduled, the second one I think he felt guilty for making me wait almost two hours so he had me hop up there for a look-see. So we’ve seen the heartbeat, just haven’t heard it. We are those kind of people that have a fetal doppler in our bathroom closet just so we can listen whenever we want. If you are nervous/anxious person, get yourself a doppler. I recommend craigslist. Anyway, so we were watching SYTYCD and paused for a few minutes to try to find a heartbeat, and low and behold, a little whoosh whooshing just popped out of no where. And I was all, there’s a baby in there! And Jazz was all “Yeah there is!” and then we turned the show back on.
Now it’s almost midnight, and I haven’t been up this late since senior prom. Jazz is on a man date seeing Transformers and I’ve been watching a marathon of whale wars. Anyone else not really clear on what their goal is as they chase the giant japanese whaling fleet? I mean, yes, save the whales, but like you are in a teeny boat shooting a water hose at basically an oil tanker. Let’s reevaulate here.
Also, just so you know. Our air conditioning is back, thankyouverymuch. Isabelle threw a giant fit today because I wouldn’t let her eat a red otter pop on the carpet. And my birthday is in one week, suckas!
the sorensen six 