Lucky number 13! 13 weeks which for me means...I'm on vacation! As I write this post I am sitting in the airport in San Diego, having already been on two flights today of four, with my final destination- Ketchikan, Alaska! I am so stoked to have the next couple weeks off to see friends I haven't seen in almost two years since we left the rock for the land of bluegrass and basketball (and now baby). Amos and I are headed up to K-town to partake in some picking, fishing and marital hitching (our friends Elena and AJ). I am really looking forward to spending some down time with my baby daddy, as life has been a little hectic as of late and we could use some serious rest and relaxation.
Awesome continues to be a juicy little sweet piece of fruit and according to thebump.com, Awesome is forming teeth and vocal cords... savor this, their non-functional phase. Baby is approaching normal proportions, with a head now only one third the size of the body. Intestines are in the process of moving from the umbilical cord to baby's tummy. (Much more convenient.) Vocal cords! This means she/he can start training right now for the Hopkins Family Band!
Last weekend I was in Cincinnati for my surrogate Mama Chris's birthday and I got to meet several new little additions: My good friend and fantastic band mate Erin's daughter, Anodyne, and my friend of 17 years(!) Jessica's son, Finley. Oh, what smooooshy baby goodness! Both mamas are handling new motherhood beautifully and have bounced back from pregnancy with vigor Heidi Klum would envy. I can only hope....
So this little peach of mine is growing by leaps and bounds as evidenced by my first belly shot:
Did you gasp? Did you think, Holy Smokes, Katy is a balloon at 13 weeks, God help her at 36 weeks! Well....have no fear, this picture is just evidence that even when I am pregnant I can't resist stuffing my shirt with the trusty fake belly. Sorry to disappoint. I promise when I start to look pregnant and not just bloated I will post a picture. I am taking pictures, I just don't find them very remarkable. Perhaps when I have something substantial to compare them to, I will think, Wow, I really grew between weeks 13 and 14- must have been all those Omega-3s in that King Salmon I ate while I was in Alaska. But until then, go to the store pick up a peach, wrap it up in 4 pounds of puff pastry and you'll get an idea.
Well, I did it. I finally broke down and purchased (well, Mom purchased them for me...) some maternity pants. And the verdict is......why the hell haven't I been wearing these blessed fineries earlier?! In truth, they are so comfortable, I may have difficulty retiring them post- Awesome. I wish jeans with stretchy waistbands were socially acceptable in the same way I wish I could eat sour cream like it was yogurt. Of course I wore these pants all week, slyly hiding them from Amos' unsuspecting eyes, until yesterday when I was getting ready to leave for work and Amos said, "Are you wearing maternity pants?" "Yes." I replied, nonchalantly. And then he said, " I bet in a few weeks you'll have to transition full time into mumus. After that we'll just just have to wrap you up in a curtain." He's such a charmer.
Thank you, thank you, thank you Mother Nature for ushering me though these last 12 weeks without having to sacrifice a small goat to the gods of nausea and exhaustion! It was a rough road, but I am definitely starting to feel better. This week I cooked dinner AND did the dishes and did not throw a tantrum. Of course, I must also give great credit to my dear dear husband who endured these weeks of having a moody, crabby, mopey, lethargic wife and didn't even yell at her once!
According to thebump.com, our little lime is now a juicy plum! From a prune to a plum in two weeks! Our fruit has been officially rehydrated! Thebump.com also reports: As you move into the second trimester, baby shifts into the growth and maturation stage. After weeks in the critical development stage, almost all of baby's systems are fully formed.
Last weekend we went to a party and were talking to some friends about little Awesome. Of course, everyone wants to know if we are going to find out if it's a boy or a girl before they're born. When they ask this I have visions of receiving piles of pastel pink or blue onsies and having to traipse over, in disguise, to Target to return them. If you have ever been to our house, you know we don't mess around with colors of the pastel persuasion. Life is too, too short to be surrounded by muted colors. Bring on the primary and the jewel tones!
Of course, armed with plenty of Judith Butler quotes about performing gender roles, part of me wants to resist giving into people's urges to fit our child into a box before they're born. Then again, the 18 year old feminist me is now a 29 year old feminist, and I have evolved in my thoughts on these issues. The truth is boys and girls are different, in fact I think they're different from day one, regardless of how society tells them to act. Plus I like girl things and I know a lot of boys who like boy things, and that's all fine and dandy and works out lovely. Of course, if our little Awesome decides to defy societies expectations, we will love them all the more. But for the record: I do not like and will not dress our child in frilly lacy pink itchy craziness, disney/cartoon or sports themed items- no matter who they are. Why? Because I am the mommy and I am in charge of my child's identity, and I don't like those things, they don't reflect who I and Amos are. And if you can't use your child as a billboard for your own tastes and political leanings, then what good are they?! Of course, if our child comes to us when they are old enough to make their own clothing decisions- like say, 15, and they let us know that they really want to wear a Mickey Mouse in a baseball uniform themed Easter outfit with layers of lace, then I will consider it. But only then.
Why would someone do this to their child?!
Needless to say, we are going to find out. I know lots of people who didn't find out until the BIG DAY and it was wonderful and exciting, but I've yet to talk to a single couple who found out beforehand and reported, "You know what, the whole birth thing was kind of a letdown and bummer because, well, we already knew it was going to be a boy, so who really cares about meeting them face to face?" I've had several people tell me they thought not knowing the sex, gave them something to look forward to and therefore made labor easier. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm guessing that when you're in labor you have plenty to look forward to, like say, having labor over with or, I don't know, MEETING YOUR CHILD. Call me crazy, maybe that's just me. Also, you know what else apparently makes labor easier? Drugs.
Yesterday, Amos and I went and met one of our two midwives, Beth Bary, for our first official prenatal visit. And while we were slightly disappointed to know that the downside of seeing Beth at Women Care and having the baby at Clark Memorial meant that our child would be a Hoosier (the hospital is right over the river in Indiana), Beth's approach to pregnancy and birth made up for it all.
We thought we were going to be able to have an ultrasound, but due to Beth's least invasive approach (which is a good thing), we'll have to wait until 18-20 weeks to see our little Awesome. We did get to hear the heartbeat however and at 160-180 beats per minute, this little one is quite the rocker! I kept laughing while we were listening to the heartbeat, which messed up the transmission, but there was no doubt about it! It was kind of strange and wild getting to listen to my heartbeat and then Awesome's heartbeat and how different they are. Crazy to think I have two sets of organs in me right now...
At 11 weeks, according to thebump.com, the baby is the size of a lime- a vast improvement from last weeks prune, if you ask me! The Bump also says:
Your fetus currently enjoys a 1:1 ratio between body and head, and has skin so transparent that blood vessels show right through. But, fingers and toes are no longer webbed, and hair follicles, tooth buds and nail beds are forming -- setting up a significantly more attractive future.
So, a few weeks ago I was getting ready for work, pulled on my trusty brown pinstripe pants, only to find that the zipper would. not. budge. And did I say to myself, "its okay, I'll just wear another pair of pants" No! Why would I do something like that? I was determined to wear these pants that I had easily fit into two weeks before and now, not so much. So, I ripped open the package holding my brand new Bella Band, which I had purchased that weekend for this very purpose. Now, if you are not familiar with a Bella Band, it is a tube top like article that one wears over their 'pre-pregnancy' pants when they can't button them, but are still too small to fit into maternity clothes. So I pulled on this Bella Band, was satisfied with the layered look it created and was off to work.
Fast-forward 5 hours later, I had been sitting at my at my desk for approximately 4.5 hours and was ready to venture into the oppressive 97 degree heat, in order to get some lunch. Did I mention that I was feeling TERRIBLE? Terrible in the way that I was unsure if I would make it all the way across campus to McAlisters for my salad without vomiting on the unsuspecting co-eds playing beach volleyball. But the need for food was imperative. So I put on my game face (actually, I looked pathetic) and started slouching (literally) across campus. Along the way I probably passed 20+ people, who I avoided eye contact with or smiled weakly, as if to say, "Its a rough day, bear with me." Right as I was about to reach McAlisters, I passed a group of about 50 incoming freshman getting a campus tour. Amazed at their youth and vigor, I looked up at them as I passed. And then the very last boy in the group saw me and gave me a look that can only be described as repulsion and disgust. It was then that my self-consciousness got the better of me and I looked down and gave myself a once over. And thats when I discovered, that my trusty Bella Band, after hours of wear at my desk, was now resting happily around my waist, a good four inches above my pants, thus exposing my fully open fly and a shock of bright green underwear. Beautiful. Why this 18 year old boy was not excited by this, I do not know! If I were him on a campus tour of my future university, I'd think, "wow, the women here are not only mature in look, but quite saucy on a Monday afternoon!" By the look of his face, he did not think this.
Now, one might think I would react in sheer horror and humiliation, running in tears to the nearest bathroom. Nope. Instead I turned to him and yelled, "Fuck you! I am working on a doctoral degree and creating a new life! Whats the last thing you achieved, a mustache?!!!"
Of course, I did not really say this. But I wanted to. Here's hoping the coming days of this pregnancy brings greater moments of class and pride.
Okay, so if you have reached a certain age and commitment level in your life I'm sure you have, at some point, heard this phrase: "When are you going to give me a grandchild?" I found out I was pregnant my birthday weekend, which presented a perfect opportunity to tell our parents, several of who were coming to town for my birthday. We thought it would be a good idea to wrap up the pregnancy test in a box and show it to our folks under the guise of, 'look what Amos got me for my birthday!' Of course we did not consider that neither of Amos's parents have ever seen a positive pregnancy test. I guess they don't watch television or live in this century, but needless to say, what was supposed to lead to immediate screaming and jumping up and down, led to confusion. Amos' dad- who we had given him the box with the test inside, along with a couple cigars, as a Father's Day gift, thought we had given him a rectal thermometer. That is a terrible Father's Day gift, what kind of children would give their father that?! He even went as far as to take the cap off the test and poke the end that I had recently peed on. Okay, time to tell him what it is, because I don't think he's going to guess... So whats the moral of this story, even if your parents have been waiting anxiously for the news that you are with child, just tell them, don't torture them into confusion.
A pregnancy test
A rectal thermometer
P. S. While looking for stock photos of rectal thermometers I discovered that you can buy Sponge Bob and Hello Kitty rectal thermometers. Somehow I can't imaging that telling a child, "Don't worry honey, this won't be scary or awkward at all, I'm just going to stick Sponge Bob up your butt for a few minutes" will really fly with kids, but to each her own. At least the Pooh themed rectal thermometer made a 'little' more sense..
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I'd make that face too.
Okay so if you've found your way to this blog, you've figured out by now that we're having a baby in the near future. At this point, I'm a little over 10 weeks pregnant. According to some website that compares your growing baby to pieces of food (yet again supporting the idea that children are so cute you just want to eat them up), this baby has grown from being a poppyseed, to a blueberry to a raspberry to a medium green olive to, get ready for, this week, our baby is the size of....a prune. A prune! That's not cute! That's what I force feed myself to combat another pregnancy symptom that I won't go into. Couldn't they say something like, 'this week your baby is the size of a kumquat or a large grape tomato? That's cute. A prune. Not so much.
I wish that I could say that the past 6 weeks or so since we found out have been filled with wonder and magic and excitement and all things sugar and spice. But in reality its been filled with nausea and bloating and exhaustion. Fun. Amos and I are both VERY ready for the first trimester to be over in a couple weeks, with the great hopes that all these early pregnancy symptoms will go away and I will stop just looking chubby and instead be glowing and beautiful and rotund in all the right places. Not to mention that I will be a much nicer person to be around and Amos can have the Katy he adores back. I would post a picture of me up here at this stage, but take my word for it, it wouldn't be worth it. And if you want a visual for your mind, if you knew me after my first year in college, after I had experienced the phrase "unlimited meal plan" to the fullest extent, you may get an idea....
So, you might ask yourself why is this blog titled: "You're Being Awesome Right Now" instead of "Katy and Amos's Sweetest Poopykins Pregnancy and All Things Baby Blog"? Well first of all, I would venture to say that our life and our experience from here on out is not just about baby baby baby and while I am sure many of these posts will be affected by the pregnancy and our lovely genius child to come, it may just include some other topics as well. Also, I had to choose a title with the word 'awesome ' in the title, because when we found out I was pregnant, Amos immediately informed me that since he "gave me a baby" he should get sole naming rights. Hah! Anyway, his first suggestion was: Awesome Chainsaw. My ongoing argument that no Supreme Court Justice could have a name like that falls on deaf ears. So if we do end up with a sweet child with this moniker, you will know who is responsible.
This is what a family of a child named Awesome Chainsaw inevitably looks like
So, there are many reasons why I know Amos will be an excellent father. Some of them obvious, some of them a bit more subtle and all of them rooted in what started as a gut feeling and grew into a deep faith that he was the one who would help me to be the best human, not to mention woman and mother, I could ever possibly dream of being. We are already a great team. And he stands on his own as an excellent human. And while I know he is scared shitless and overwhelmed at the prospect of fatherhood, I know he's going to be phenomenal.
One of the early indicators of Amos' innate daddy skills has to do with the relationship he has with the child he already parents, Rosco P. Coltrane. Below is a story I wr0te about them about 5 years ago. I knew back then...
The Grand Adventures of Rosco and Amos
This is Amos.
This is Rosco.
Amos and Rosco are the very best of friends.
They love to be cool.
They love to sleep.
Rosco misses Amos when he cannot take a nap with him. Amonster, the teddy bear, is no substitute for Amos.
They love to dance.
They love to dress in silly costumes.
Sometimes Amos asks Rosco to dress up as a fairy or a sunflower. Rosco is so comfortable with his manhood, that he doesn't feel the slightest bit emasculated.
They also love Findlay Market. Amos plays the fiddle, while Rosco flirts with the ladies.
Amos loves to play music. Especially for Rosco.
Rosco loves it when Amos plays the fiddle. But sometimes his ears get tired.
Amos has lots of interesting friends.
So does Rosco.
This is the love of Rosco's life, Juliette Binoche. She is a French movie star.
This is the love of Amos's life, Katy. She wishes she was a French movie star.
Katy loves Rosco, too.
He gives her the best kisses. They are not, however, as nice as Amos's
Katy is so happy Amos introduced her to Rosco. She thinks Amos and Rosco are the best.
Amos and Rosco are a match made in Heaven.
Awesome continues to be a juicy little sweet piece of fruit and according to thebump.com, Awesome is forming teeth and vocal cords... savor this, their non-functional phase. Baby is approaching normal proportions, with a head now only one third the size of the body. Intestines are in the process of moving from the umbilical cord to baby's tummy. (Much more convenient.) Vocal cords! This means she/he can start training right now for the Hopkins Family Band!
