The 8 week mark

On my way out of the doctor's office today, I checked to our due date. I know that the infant Miles is forecasted to appear around March 28th, but I am never sure how many weeks along I am. Silly Anna, you may say, just count backwards. Dearest nay-sayer, I might say, Dr. Keller keeps all on computer. So- as of tomorrow, we are 32 weeks down. That leaves a meager 8 weeks to go. I almost cried, which takes nothing at all, at the thought that in less than a school marking period, we will be with child. WOW! 8 weeks! To quote the ever-loving Shaggy from TV's Scooby Doo, "Zoinks!" 8 weeks is a blink of an eye- a very large, slow-moving eye, but it's still an eye. 8 weeks- I read books that take longer than 8 weeks to read. When I phoned and told Jesse Miles' new ETA, he response was, "Man, I've got a lot of work to do." Then he beamed. He is already one proud papa. His excitement melts my heart. In fact, when I got home from the doctor's office, Jesse greeted the belly before he greeted me. And I was even carrying a pizza- that's real love. As I sign off tonight, I am feeling more thankful than I ever have before. (However, I am sure that I'll have a mood swing in three minutes and throw a vase across the room.) But for now, let's savor this delicious moment! Our house is wearing a big grin, and baby fever is hitting high gear.

Anna the Grouch

Yep, that's me- sans the green fur and trash can abode. I just snapped at Jesse for the lamest reason. Granted, the exchange required me to walk up our stairs. I only mention this because I've done this 1,000,000,000 times today, and my big lazy butt is just not handling this form of transportation all too well. Poor guy didn't know what he was getting into by asking an innocent question. There were no warning signs that I was close to snapping- no steam pouring from my ears, no reddened complexion, not twitching hands eagerly pawing a switchblade knife. I looked cool as a kitten. However, under that calm kitten exterior purred the snarky growl of jackal- a jackal low on patience and empty on tolerance. I admit it now- I am 100% at fault. I take full responsibility for being the jerk. Ironically, I also have yet to apologize. He conveniently hopped in the shower before I could insert my swollen foot into my over sized, bossy mouth. Groveling at Chez Thomas will begin in about ten minutes. Is it cool to blame the hormones? I hope so, because that is my only defense. It was not premeditated. Rajah is my alibi; he watched me clean all afternoon. Alright, let me run and make my amends. Nobody likes a grouch, especially the non-Muppet varieties.

Coolest website EVER!

The snapsuits make me laugh out loud. They are a hoot and a half. Take a peak and giggle! The "Someday I'll have a hairy chest" made me snort hot chocolate out of my nose. The company is called Wrybaby. Visit them at: http://wrybaby.com/detail.aspx?ID=57

Belly's first snow!

So, the Arctic Blast of '08, my belly got its first glimpse of real snow- about two inches in some parts. I definitely could have used a few more hours of flakes, but mother nature had other plans in store. It was a true treat to wake-up to a quasi-winter wonderland. Most of the yard was covered. Branches were icy and powdery white. The sky was a brilliant blue, with no hint of future precipitation to come. Jesse and I both are craving colder weather. He wants a chance to use his cool winter gear. I need a place to escape from my hot flashes. Yesterday, I spent several minutes on my porch- sleeves pushed up, face brilliant red, and nary a shiver on my simmering skin. I thankful that my incubation status has been called to duty during the winter months. I know I would burst into flames if the little man were due in the summer.

Weird Dreams

A quick run down of what has been happening in dreamland:

1. I am in labor and the hospital won't let me in. We have to climb the walls and break a window.
2. I give birth to the hungriest baby ever- I am forced to breast feed for 24 hours day.
3. I give birth in class. That's a really awkward dream.
4. I give birth now (like in January) and the little man has to share the dog bed with Rajah because we are not ready.
5. I give birth to twins- and I am mad that I didn't get a heads up, or two heads up notice.
6. While delivering, I undergo the most intense physical pain imaginable. The pain glows bright white in my mind. It lights up the whole hospital and generates enough power for the Newport News Nuclear Weapons station. The government harnesses my labor pain for the next 20 years. I replace coal and oil.
7. The little man is born with the ability to speak. He asked for some milk right after he's pushed out. He says please and thank you, mommy. We talk about what life is like on the inside. He's one deep baby.

1-5 are pretty standard. #6 means I need to stop watching NOVA before bedtime. #7 is an excellent dream. I wish had that dream very night.

Belly Quakes

I am sitting here watching my belly move. I swear, if you say the little man's name, he'll squirm in response. This morning, while gradually waking up, Jesse told him to wake up, and the little man kicked me. Jesse felt it and laughed. I grimaced and quickly booked it to the bathroom. The little man has deadly aim at all my vital organs. If he wants waffles, he kicks my gall bladder. If he doesn't like the song, he kicks my other bladder. If it is ice cream he needs, he play punching bag with my navel until I consent. If Jesse tells him to wake up and play, the little man makes the whole belly quake. He is already so opinionated. I wonder where he gets it from??

It's Alive!

While resting on our sofa today, Jesse and I both watched in wonder as my tummy poked out with the little man's hits and kicks. It would run my hands across my belly, tap one side a few times, and wait. Seconds later, little man would respond with "Two bits" to my "Shave and a Hair Cut." Coolest tummy moment ever! Though it does call to mind the scene from the first Aliens movie when the evil alien baby springs forth from that unfortunate dude's stomach. Only our little man is a heck of a cuter, and the pain nowhere rivals what we goes through.

I am such a wuss.

The waterworks have arrived. I get teary at every little thing. I had a nervous breakdown while watching the ending of "E.T." Granted, that alien has always tugged my heart stings in a serious way. But one night while flipping through the channels, Jesse landed on the last 15 minutes of the movie. We joined E.T., Elliot, and the boys as the fled the police on their bikes. The moment the chase scene took flight, my eyes moistened. I begged Jesse to change the channel because I knew, if he didn't, I would need my inhaler and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. The keen observer he always is, Jesse decided to leave the channel put and watch the real show on the other side of the bed- aka me having a big moment. By the time E.T. reaches out with his glowing finger and tells Elliot to, "Be Good," I couldn't hold back any longer. Snot and tears were flying everywhere. Jesse was laughing uncontrollably. I was balling and laughing at myself at the same time. I couldn't get mad at him because I was acting so ridiculously. Thanks to my hormone level, what was originally a touching film had become as potent as "Terms of Endearment." Before writing this post, I was reading a birthing manual. Reading and dreaming about labor, the birth of our little man, and how awesome this is going to be- made me cry again. Thank goodness I don't watch Lifetime television!

Wu-Tang Forever

Our baby loves Wu-Tang. If you are from the 'well, or have a good hip hop pulse- you know who I am talking about. I have so many high school memories that are linked to their music. And this group still is putting out great music. We can;t stop playing their new album, esp. the song "The Wolf." Anyways, Jesse put in one of their older albums, "The W", two days ago. After track one, our little man started bumpin'. He danced for over 1/2 an hour. Jesse got to feel some of the harder kicks, especially when Method Man had a solo. Seems like our tyke really prefers Method Man over all the over members. So much for mother-son bonding, I still think the RZA is the coolest. (And RIP to ODB.) Now, once the kid is born, he will have to wait until he is 16 to hear thier albums again. Thier lyrics are very. . .spirited. Luckly, my uterus is a good censoring device. He feels the beats but misses all the social commentary. That will do for now. We've got a good feeling that this kid will have taste- does he have a choice??

28 weeks down- and my mind is running rabid :)

Yesterday the bump and I had our 28 week OB appointment. I had to drink the glucose cocktail and have blood drawn. I was a tad nervous, seeing that they closely time you in drink the sugar bevy. You get two minutes- that's it, or the test is compromised. I think I made all co-eds proud by finish the drink in a record 15 seconds! (There was an old Chi-O chant going through my head, but I won't repeat it here. You still might catch fragments of it on the patio of the College Delly on Thursday nights, around 11 pm. That chant was my mantra to get the juice down.) It wasn't too bad- it tasted like a 100 year old Sunkist soda. The after-effects were interesting. I didn't get hyper, but I got really hot. Lucky for me, I had to wait for the doc in my socks and a paper gown for 45 minutes. That turned out to be a quick fix to the sugar induced heat flash, though I spent most of the time wiggling around. (There is never enough paper to cover all the essentials.) The test results will be back in a few days. I really hope I don't have to take the extended 4 hour version of this test- more funky Sunkist and even more blood drawn. To ensure that a false-positive result would be reached, I fasted on all things sugar 2 days prior to the test. What a huge sacrifice to make when you've got a kitchen full of Christmas goodies! Not fair.

Now it's time to explain the pictures above. . .
The worst part is that dreaded needle- with it's menacing hollow shaft and big tubed friends. I had been fretting about this over my entire break. Thoughts of sugar plum fairies and phlebotomists danced in my head Christmas Eve; like I was stuck in the remake of "The Nutcracker" starring Dr. Mengele and the Golden Girls. But as always, and you can verify this with Jesse, my imagination never lives up to the actual event. I blow everything out of proportion. This is what happens to unharnessed creativity- when it's allowed to run-a-muck. In reality, the OB's resident phlebotomist is actcually very nice and does a great job. Also, I am a big chicken.