What did I expect?

I had a lot of dreams about what the pregnancy journey would be like. I imagined sharing our news with family in some fun--possibly elaborate--way. Heck, I thought I'd surprise Mike with the news in an exciting fashion. I expected to drive around the city picking up various kinds of mashed potatoes (or some other random food) trying to satisfy an intense craving. I envisioned myself waking Mike up in the middle of the night saying, "I think this is it!" and rushing to the hospital, getting there just in time, and delivering a beautiful baby girl.

But it wasn't like that at all. The news leaked before we got a chance to share. Mike was the one who held the flashing pregnancy test until it read PREGNANT and actually gave me the news. Cravings? What cravings? I had one. And rather than getting to drive to the hospital because of waves of contractions, we waited for the doctors to call us saying they were ready to induce.

But what I didn't expect was how instantly I would fall in love with my baby girl; how instantly I would feel like a mother; how instantly I would feel peace and contentment in just holding her close. It has been a truly incredible day.

The waiting game

While I've been really trying hard to keep myself occupied over the last few days, I think it's getting progressively harder to keep my mind busy.

I get asked a lot what I've been doing to keep busy. Well, I'm really busy moping and whining. And I take as long as I possibly can to do my hair. I've painted my nails three times in two days. And I have been getting ahead in my class. (My next assignment is due on February 23rd. And that's only because they haven't posted the assignments due beyond that date).

I went grocery shopping today and wasn't thinking. (I'm never really thinking. . . well, that's not true. I think. But only about one thing. . .) I bought milk, juice, canned food and loads of other heavy things totaling nearly $90 dollars and then I realized I had to walk home. And while home is very close (so close that I feel stupid driving) the trek back made me feel like a pioneer. The most frustrating part of the block and a half walk wasn't the weight of the bags or the light drizzle. It was the fact that when the bags would bang against my leg and I would look down to see how to better situate things, my glasses would slip to the end of my nose and I then had to walk with my chin way up to prevent them from completely falling off of my face.  I'm sure I looked ridiculous. I prayed that no one would stop and offer to help. I just wanted to be invisible. I feel conspicuous enough being over nine months pregnant, period.

Mikey and I passed the evening hours at the movie theater. I wasn't sure I wanted to go because it's hard for me to sit still, but there were a total of 5 people in the theater (we were 2 of them) so I moved between lying sideways and taking up three chairs, to hanging my feet over the row in front of me, to sitting very straight, to slouching, to lying on Mike. It was awesome.

But seriously, this baby can't get here soon enough. I'm not sure what she's waiting for, but I'm sure she'll be worth the wait!

Public Service Announcement

Still no baby.

See your shadow?

Dear Baby,

The Groundhog came out and saw his shadow today. Want to come out and see yours? Let me know.

Love,
Your Mama

Force it

I've been forcing myself to keep busy and keep my mind off of my still-not-here-baby. I know, I know, I know . . . she's not due for 3 days . . .

To keep busy

• I have swept and mopped the kitchen floor three times in a week.
• I have touched up every piece of black furniture in our house.
• I have been dusting thrice-daily. Not because it's dusty. But because I am that bored.
• I am a week and a half ahead in my class
• I have made/frozen a few meals (but my mom out-does me every time. I go over there and she always says, "Oh! There's _____________ in the freezer for you . . ." #1 Mom Award).
• I finished a painting.
• I laundered every possible piece of dirty clothing/rug/towel/rag in our house
• I have gone on a few walks with my Mikey (I hate going out walking because I feel like everyone who passes us thinks, "Ha, suckers. That never works to start labor." But the fresh air is more of a necessity than anything)
• I have run errands that don't even need running

And my mind still constantly wanders to the bundle in my belly. Are you already this stubborn? Are you just shy? Heck, it's 15 degrees outside, I'd probably want to hold up in there too.

But let's face it, as much as I can force "busyness," I can't force her out. Even with the 200 jumping jacks I did last night.

Nope

Okay really, I can't start complaining that my baby isn't here until I'm overdue, but I'm pretty sure the phrase, "I want my baby now" comes out of my mouth about a dozen times a day. And it's not because I'm uncomfortable or because I can't sleep or any of the other hosts of reasons that pregnant ladies complain (and by the way, maybe I'm lucky, but being pregnant has given me far less sympathy for pregnant women. I'm like, really? It's not that bad...). It's because I'm bored.

People keep saying, "You know, that baby won't get any easier to take care of than it is right now." Sure, sure. I hear ya. But pregnancy is getting old. Looking at baby-less baby clothes and going to sleep with an empty bassinet by my bed is getting dull. I want to stay up all night with a screaming infant in that bassinet, thankyouverymuch!

People also keep saying, "It could happen any day now!!" But any day seems to have a way of becoming no day and until the day arrives, I'll just keep pointing folks to a website I came across via another pregnant blogger from our old ward in DC: haveyouhadthatbabyyet.com/

Thanks for the Birthday Wishes

Well folks, all the jokes and wishes and "wouldn't it be fun if!" didn't come true.

No baby on my birthday. No literal birth day for me. Maybe I'll be glad. Soon I'll have to share every part of my body and soul with this child. I didn't want to share my birthday too! Right?

I've been telling people for months that I'm 22. Now I'm finally not lying. But I started to trick even myself. I had to ask Mikey how old I was really turning. Am I 23? No, no. I'm 22, right?

 But I am getting anxious. I feel like the weekly doctor's appointments are (while probably important) just anticipation inducing sessions of "Well things are certainly getting close!" And close to a 38 week pregnant girl gets translated into: Maybe I'll have my baby...TOMORROW!

I'm trying to keep my head on. Straight and level, thank you. (I'll just keep telling myself, She's not coming until March. Oh wait, that's my sister . . .)

Meanwhile, I'm finding ways to keep busy. Like getting ahead in my class and waiting in long lines to buy tickets (and I don't even mind the lines! What else to I have to rush to? I think this is good for me).

But I digress.

I'm pretty sure that every Braxton Hicks contraction sends Mikey into yet another session of Anderson Labor Watch 2011. Can't wait for the real thing. My belly is starting to get in my way.

Popcorn

I was eating popcorn last night while sitting on the couch. Popcorn is one of those snacks where for every 7 kernels you get in your mouth, at least one ends up in your lap. But in my case, my lap is blocked by a very large belly. So rather than having a little leftover stash of popcorn in my lap when I finished the bowl, I had a halo of popcorn surrounding my bum from the kernels rolling off my belly in surprisingly evenly spaced directions.

Refraining from resolving

I've thought a lot about resolution making the past few days (while I wasn't thinking about how to put my house together). I thought of a few things I could resolve to do, a few improvements I could make. I've always liked the idea of resolutions, fresh starts, goals. I also like that just a week after we celebrate the birth of our Savior, we resolve to be more like him and improve ourselves through his atoning power.

But this year of resolution-making has been different. One resolution (if you can even call it that) came easy: Become a Mom. But I stop every time I get close to making another goal. There are too many unknowns to try and anticipate the sort of resolutions I'll need/want/be able to handle.

So I decided that I'll hold off on resolutions until my baby girl arrives. What a better new beginning? Her arrival will mark a distinctly new chapter of my life. And while I'm sure my parenting slate will dirty quickly, I get to start with a clean one. Until then, I'll resist the impulse to join with the rest of the world in resolving to improve in various ways--that is, until my life is turned upside down and I'm sure I'll need resolutions and goals more than ever.

Nesting

Call it what you will, but I don't think Mikey will want to move while his wife is pregnant ever again. But the end of move in day, I had every box unpacked but the boxes of books (and those were only still in boxes because we hadn't yet bought a bookshelf--which is another story. . .) It's fun to make a new space.

The night before we moved in we met our landlord to get the keys; make sure everything was clean and ready for us to move in the next day. The carpets were wet and smelled like cleaner and our landlord was just touching up a few former nail holes on the wall he had recently patched over. He gave us the keys and we left him to finish up.

When we got in the car Mikey knew I was not happy. It looked so small! How could we ever fit our lives and our new baby in there? The bedroom wasn't what I had remembered and now my dreams of having even a nursery corner were over. (Mind you, I had been kept up for days thinking about how we would arrange the furniture so we could fit the crib, dressers, bed . . .)

We came back later that night after he had left. I sobbed. Seriously? Yes seriously. And it's embarrassing now that things are moved in and I honestly love where we live. But I noticed things that set me off: no garbage disposal? No counter space in the bathroom? No place for a crib? I sat down on the only seat in the empty place--the toilet--and cried and cried. I went to reach for some T.P. to wipe my eyes with and when I saw where the dispenser was located and how I nearly fell off the john when I reached for it, things got ugly.

We left shortly thereafter. But moved in the next morning. And what do you know?! Sleep actually makes people rational, and happy, and able to deal with a toilet paper dispenser on the wall rather than right next to the pot.

My poor husband. I think he's anxious for this baby to come so a sense of sanity will be restored to his wife. (But I maintain that I haven't been that bad. Honest.)

However, the "Nesting instinct" that kicks in was a force to be reckoned with in me. It was after ten (which is late at our house) and there I was nailing and drilling coat hooks into the wall. I couldn't stop. It was weird. And while I have always been someone who doesn't like to stop until things are done, this was different. While I sat at church I got this twitch because I wanted to come home and hang pictures on the walls and the painting over the couch.

I have reorganized the few baby outfits we have probably half a dozen times.

I'm crazy.

Week 35

If Mikey wrote Christmas songs

There's something with dads--my dad does it, Mikey's dad does it--where they like to make up their own words to songs. Well, Mikey must be ripening for fatherhood because almost daily he comes up with new songs to sing to our little girl. It started a few months ago with "Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea" (or Baby Ada in Mommy's belly, You kick so hard, and you're not yet smelly...) But in light of the holiday season, he seems to have taken up Christmas songs. Like this one (sung to "Santa Baby")

Ada baby, you wiggle in Mom's tummy all day--you play

You're an awful good girl, Ada baby,

So hurry down the birth canal tonight.

I'm not so sure about using the words "birth canal" in any sort of song...He may have to rethink this one...

Week 29

Excuse me while I put my coat over my head and hide

The hormones struck again.

After waiting for, I kid you not, nearly 90 minutes in the waiting room at the doctor's office today, I went up to the desk to ask when I could be seen. And I started to get choked up and teary and my voice got all shaky so I had to speak louder to be understood. (Why is it that trying to hold in tears only makes you look and feel more stupid than actually crying?)  As I was wiping the few tears that sneaked out the nurse called my name. When I turned to follow her back to the exam room, I noticed that the entire waiting room was staring at me.

Awesome.

I'd blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but the place was chock-full of pregnant ladies and none of them were crying (but none of them had been there for an hour and a half either. . .)

After my little "episode" everyone was tip-toeing around me, making extra nice comments about my baby bump, telling me how darling my hair was, making sure I was alright. Which almost makes things worse because you feel like someone with special needs. But maybe I just am.

They took my blood pressure as per usual. It was fifteen points higher than normal. No surprise. But I have to go back to get retested when I'm "feeling a little more calm" just to be sure it's not a cause for concern. My baby also had a higher-than-usual heart rate (which was probably due to the adrenaline spike she got when I was crying in front of a dozen or so people but desperately trying to hold onto some dignity). I forget how connected we are sometimes.

And this thought made me feel extra guilty about the Halloween candy binge last weekend. Poor girl probably won't ever come out of her sugar coma.

Stuff these days

Today I have spent 5 hours writing inscribing the names of my ancestors on wax hexagons. The hexagons that I spent all last week making. The hexagons that half my family came over to help punch and tie (bless you, bless you, bless you...)

And now I can't feel my middle finger.

I noticed that I was writing slower and slower. I punched out a generation and a half before lunch, and I've barely done one since. I remembered this whole blood sugar when you're pregnant thing. And drank some orange juice. It's Mikey's special. (Thanks dude). And I'm feeling much better.

I planned on doing my hair today but it has been in and out of several buns, pony tails, and braids all day. Maybe not doing my hair isn't saving me time in the long run. Isn't that how it is with everything though? You think you save yourself by shirking something and end up having to deal with it later (in a bigger, more tangley way).

After this show is hung I'm declaring a personal holiday for the following week. Do you think I can get my professors to go along with it?

Chassé (because Auntie Lou thinks she'll be a dancer)

Mikey likes to make fun of me for it, but my favorite thing to do these days is climb into bed early so I have time to pull my shirt up so I can see my belly, put my hands behind my head, and watch my baby dance.

Sometimes I have to wait. And it's funny how patient I am to wait for a little bulge or bump and yet I get my panties-in-a-wad when I miss a green arrow and have to sit through the whole traffic light cycle.

I'm blaming the salami

I've gotten a few questions about the salami/seagull reference in our latest edition of the week by week updates. Here it is folks:

Mikey picked up the sandwiches. Why he choose salami (cured meat? really?) is beyond me. As he got ready for work in the morning and I walked around rubbing my eyes and my belly trying to wake up we discussed various sandwich options-- salami never came up. When I asked him what brought on the sudden salami party he just said "it looked good!"and I'm beginning to wonder if he has been experiencing some sympathetic pregnancy cravings...

Whatever the reason, I had a foot long salami sandwich on my lap by noon as Mikey and I found a place to park and eat where we wouldn't get a ticket from the power-trippers that run campus. We ended up behind the Bean Museum (speaking of, has anyone else seen adds for the baby doll-animal hybrid nativities now on display at the museum? Creepy, weird and festive all at once. The bear about to eat baby Jesus' head is my favorite. No, maybe the adoring wombat).

I was ravenous by the time I got the sandwich to my lips. It had been 4 WHOLE HOURS since I had eaten anything. I snarfed half my sandwich and as Mikey and discussed our mornings I noticed a pukey feeling coming on. I got out of the car, got some air, walked around...it didn't help. Probably no more than 200 seconds after eating my sandwich the whole thing was on the parking lot, my shoes, and in my hair. Lovely huh? I hope none of the students passing by noticed.

After emptying the contents of my stomach I immediately felt better and I got back in the car and laughed. What just happened? Mikey just sat there with his mouth open in shock watching me and now the both of us were back in the car wondering if one needs to clean up after oneself in a parking lot?

Soon I noticed a seagull, and then two, and then half a dozen and then a small flock circling our car. We looked at each other knowing exactly what they wanted. The thought made me want to vomit again. I told Mikey to "oh just drive! This is disgusting. Drive! Drive!! DRIVE!!!" As soon as he moved the car the seagulls descended. Mikey kept pausing to look over his should and laugh as they picked through the barf with their beaks.

Nasty huh?

But at least it solved our clean-up quandary.

Week 26

May you never wish for something there's no way of getting

I think I had my very first, true-blue, pregnancy craving last night. It was random, out of the blue, and went unsatisfied.

Boo.

We had stir fry for dinner. It was good. I was full. But as Mikey did the dishes and I read some news (and looked up countless recipes that call for pumpkin) it struck and all I could think about was: Cinnabon. Warm. Gooey. Brown sugary caramelized goodness topped with melting cream cheese frosting. . . It was bad. I needed one. I was completely fixated on getting one. Cinnamon rolls and stir fry. The perfect companionship right?

After running to Mikey's parent's house I called Lil'Lou and asked her to find out if it was still in the mall. I'll save you the suspense. No it's not in the mall. No there's not another location in Provo. No I didn't get my Cinnabon. (Cue: glistening tear on my cheek).

Mikey, trying to be consoling because I was seriously nearly in tears, offered to get one at Sugar 'n' Spice at BYU. I thought it might live up to my need (seriously, it was a need) but by just looking at it through the glass window I knew it would only make me more sad.

But I bought it anyway. I bought the malformed, probably three-days-old, dry, waxy thing all because the girl working the register was so nice and asked how she could help. And I was desperate.

As soon as I tried a bite I almost threw it away. Poorest excuse for a cinnamon roll. Ever. Mikey suggested that I dig my way to the center (the best part, as veteran cinnamon roll eaters know) and see if there was anything worth eating in there. I'll save you the suspense again. No there wasn't. No I didn't finish eating it. Yes I did spit out bites in the bushes and dig frosting out of my mouth with my finger and fling it on a planter.

I was so sad. And for the next 2+ hours in the studio, only one thing consumed my thoughts: RIP Cinnabon.

Ew

I have an issue.

It's called: all milk (unless it's the first glass out of the jug) tastes sour. Mikey thinks I'm ridiculous. And I probably am.

But I'm literally gagging down my Wheaties this morning because the milk tastes so bad to me. Maybe it's just a pregnancy phase?