Apparently, at 17 weeks, Awesome is no longer sweet and now is an onion. Which is apt, because this little one has tremendous super powers when it comes to making me spontaneously cry at the drop of a hat. Amos absolutely LOVES this aspect of Awesome. For him, crying means that one is experiencing extreme emotional overload and really only happens during major life and death events, like your own wedding and immediate family's funerals. It does not generally occur over yoga videos. And if it does, something is seriously, seriously wrong. Last week, I started sobbing when Amos had the audacity to make fun of the pregnant yogis on my prenatal yoga video. Upon hearing this, I rolled up the yoga mat and started to sob. He gave me a hug and apologized for upsetting me. I believe what followed was somewhere along the lines of, "Why can't you support me and tell me that I'm glowing?!!!!" "You're glowing," he said and wisely went into the bathroom and shut the door. When the tears flow, there is no reasoning with me. I'm like a wild animal and its best to back away slowly, but be sure to never, ever, turn your back or I may strike with, "Oh! And another thing!" ( I did, admittedly follow him to the bathroom, open the door and add "another thing." I then proceeded to cry on my bed for the next 15 minutes feeling very, very sorry for myself. All the while I was thinking about Anita Diamant's book, The Red Tent, and wishing I had a red tent to go into and be surrounded by women who would tell me that the yogis were not silly but very, very enlightened. These women would bathe my feet in rose water and feed me gummy worms and complement me on my stylish new capris with the elastic waist band.
The truth is, I don't mind the extra tears, some of the time. Crying while watching commercials for cell phones (That sweet couple can finally keep in touch!) gives me a strange sense of relief and is somewhat cathartic. What I do mind, however, is the crying that accompanies absolutely every conversation with my husband that involves disagreeing or negotiating or talking about feelings in any way. If that happens, watch out! Hear come the tears and the blubbering and all hope of having an adult conversation is now lost, down the tubes with the roll of toilet paper I now need to wipe my excessively running nose and ruddy swollen eyes. The truth of the matter is, sometimes I really do have some important point to get across, but it gets lost in the tears and the foot stomping, with Amos looking at me like I'm some sort of crazy person and it no longer becomes about the issue at hand, but my massive amount of emotion. Sometimes I can effectively hold off on having these conversations until we are both lying in bed and the lights are all off and he can't see my face, so when he says to me, "I wish you had remembered to pick up that thing at the store." I can say, " Yeah, my bad." and when I start to sniffle and he says, "Are you crying?" I can just say with forced cheeriness, "Nope! Just these danged allergies!" while I sob silently into my pillow over the injustices of the world.
So needless to say, I am looking greatly forward to moving beyond this "onion" phase which began the day I say that little plus sign and will end, hopefully before Awesome graduates from high school.
In other news, according to thebump.com, Awesome's skeleton is hardening, changing from rubbery cartilage to bone, and fat is finally accumulating around it. The umbilical cord is getting thicker and stronger, and those little fingers and toes are now topped by one-of-a-kind prints. That means she/he should turn away now form a life of crime, as they are officially "trackable"
Ah well, I'm sure it was fun for them while it lasted. Their joy riding days are over.
So here is what an onion looks like in my belly. Must be one of those vidalia onions, or perhaps one of those deep fried bloomin' onions from Outback Steakhouse. Note the extreme cherriness on my face that is meant to counteract the weepy moments that have also accompanied week 17.
Okay, so I probably should have started official documentation of my growing belly a month ago, but vacation won out, so that didn't happen and I was trying to come up with some creative way to take the pictures, kind of like this: http://pacingthepanicroom.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20walk%20to%2040%20weeks
But, I couldn't come up with something creative and the weeks were ticking by and I am, no doubt, getting bigger, so I just need to take the shots and maybe I'll come up with something more creative later.
Anyway, I did find some pictures that were taken of me every week since week 13, so you can get an idea, somewhat, of whats been going on.
Week 13
Week 14
Week 15
And finally, hears where you really see the effects of all that hibernating and Omega-3 rich salmon:
Week 16
I look like I gained a ton of weight, but when I went to the midwife for my 16 week checkup last week, I had only gained 4 pounds since my 11 week checkup. Crazy, huh?
According to thebump.com in week 16, "Watch what you say... tiny bones forming in baby's ears mean the little one can now pick up your voice. Eyebrows, lashes and hair are starting to fill in, and taste buds are forming. And, if you're interested, an ultrasound might be able to determine gender." Now we can officially start torturing our baby with banjo music. She/he is undoubtedly paddling faster already. Oh, and apparently Awesome is now the size of an avocado:
And, for Amos, and all other dudes out there, according to hisboyscanswim.com, Awesome is the size of a small studfinder:
At the midwives visit, we got to hear the heartbeat (still rockin'!) and made our 20 week ultrasound appointment. Yay! We are very excited to finally be able to see what Awesome looks like, well in a grainy ultrasound sort of way. We'll also be able to find out if Awesome is a boy or a girl. Any guesses?
Alright, alright, I know I have been absent and I am sure you all have been waiting with bated breath for an update. But I have been on vacation and doing some serious gestating. I spent two weeks with Amos in Ketchikan, Alaska and felt like a happy hibernating bear. I slept 15 hours a day, rising only to eat fresh caught salmon, halibut and dungeoness crab. Oh, and I also saw a lot of really great friends and was one of 14 brides maids in a wedding.
The problem with being pregnant and being in a wedding is that you really can't get a dress until, practically, the day before the wedding, as you have no idea what size to buy. Some wonderful friends in Louisville were kind enough to lend me a plethora of little black dresses to choose from (the dress code was black dress and red shoes). So I settled on a dress (Thanks, Annie) that was forgiving and would even allow for a little Alaskan growth, if need be. Here's the final result:
On one of the four flights I experienced an interesting phenomenon, known as "having absolutely no compassion for cute children." This was an entirely new experience for me, who usually finds children in all shapes, sizes and moods to be adorable and sweet and incapable of anything but utter perfection. But apparently I am transitioning into a new phase known as, "My child is leaps and bounds more superior and important and (inevitably) cuter than you could ever hope to be, so don't mess with her/him" And by "her/him", in this case, I mean, me. It started when I boarded and there was a child who had the AUDACITY to be sitting in my window seat. Excuse me if I had the foresight to plan ahead and reserve that seat ahead of time, as I knew I would want to sleep, and someone's mother didn't seem to remember to do this for her child, which is not my problem. So, when the flight attendant asked me if I would mind sitting in the middle seat, so this little boy could sit by the window, I smiled and said, "Yes, I do mind." Sorry, kid. He was slightly disgruntled, which would have pulled on my heart strings in days past, but not anymore. Whatever, my kid (and by "kid", I mean, me) wanted the best seat and my kid wins over your kid. Hands down.
So I settled in to sleep, only to be repeatedly woken up by the incessant kicking of the back of my seat of a 5 year old. I tried several times to shift dramatically in my seat and sigh loudly, which is the international symbol for "please stop annoying me." But someone's mother and father (both were on the plane) neglected to teach their darling hellion these simple social cues. So, after several more minutes of this, I then tried glaring at the mother, at which point I realized was wrangling, not one, but FOUR sons on this cross continental flight. Sweet Jesus. I decided to let this one slide. The distraction of iPods and Nintendo DS's were useless, except to bring on questions such as, "Mom! Why do you have a cover on your iPod? Mom!!! Why do you have a cover on your iPod? MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why do you have a cover on your iPod?" I almost turned around and and said, "Mom! Answer your damn child, for the sake of all those on board!" But then he switched to, "Mom! I can see the wing!!!" Clearly Mom was taking the "ignoring approach" to parenting. Note to self: Don't use this one a packed plane when others are wearing sleeping masks.
4 plane rides later I arrived in Alaska and was not shocked at all when I came down a cold, because that's what happens on vacation. All in all though, annoying kids aside, I had a lovely time, and held some very cute children, which redeemed my view in children once again.
I ended my relaxing vacation in sunny San Diego for a long weekend with my mom, where I presented at a conference for the American Psychological Association and stayed with my high school friend, Heather and her fiance' David, who were wonderful hosts. One of my best friends, Britt, drove down from LA and spent the day with Mom and I in La Jolla, and all was very lovely, except for the killer sunburn. But what vacation is complete without a cold AND a sunburn? Good times.
Well I have been appropriately lazy and accomplishing very little on my vacation, hence the lack of posting. I've be feeling pretty good, except for a cold, an ultimate vacation injustice. Awesome is definitely doing some growing, as I can feel my ligaments in my abdomen stretching more and more and my bladder has the capacity of a teaspoon. According to thebump.com, Awesome has grown from a peach to a lemon and now is nearly the size of a naval orange. Still juicy! More details to come when I'm back "in the swing of things" and have better internet access....
