Dear Baby,
I understand your need to make my stomach bigger, as that is your home; my chest bigger, as that is your food, but making my butt bigger? I just don't see how that fits into the equation and is necessary. Just something to think about.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Mmm... Celery
Many people have been interested to know how I have been feeling so far, so I thought I would give the people what they want and offer a little taste in the world of a pregnant Jessica. Now, those who know me, know that I have always been a little quirky (okay, a lot). I have always been weird about smells and have always been a very very picky eater. Picky probably doesn’t even suffice as the right word. So, even before I was pregnant, aware of the stereotypical traits of pregnancy such as a heightened sense of smell and food aversions, I was curious to find out how pregnancy would affect me.
Well, let me tell you. The crazy has just gotten crazier. Let’s start with the cravings. The cravings have been interesting. For example, I have been going ga-ga for celery. Yes, celery, as in the torture food of dieticians. I just can’t get enough. I usually like to put peanut butter on it, but sometimes I just have to go without because the peanut butter takes away from the flavorfulness of the plain celery stick.
As far as food aversions go, you can pretty much assume that if it is food, I am going to have an aversion to it. Other than a few exceptions, like celery, for the most part I am like a dog that won’t pee twice in the same place. Once I have eaten something, no matter how badly I may have been craving it, it is immediately promoted to my “bad” list. I have even had to switch up the type of apples I eat.
But what has been even more strange than my aversions to food, has been my aversions to things. Yes, things. Let me lay out a quick list for you:
Bad List
1. Window fans
2. The show “Weeds”
3. Vampires
4. Dirty dishes (a convenient one, I know)
5. Water goblets
6. District 9. aliens
I’m not exactly sure how these things got on my bad list. Just all of a sudden I wanted to vomit at the mention of “Weeds” or at the thought of drinking out of a water goblet. You can image what life is now for Bill. No pregnancy book could have prepared him for the crazy world of a pregnant Jessica. But I like to think that it is that kind of uniqueness that makes him love me so much. Now I am going to go eat some celery…
Well, let me tell you. The crazy has just gotten crazier. Let’s start with the cravings. The cravings have been interesting. For example, I have been going ga-ga for celery. Yes, celery, as in the torture food of dieticians. I just can’t get enough. I usually like to put peanut butter on it, but sometimes I just have to go without because the peanut butter takes away from the flavorfulness of the plain celery stick.
As far as food aversions go, you can pretty much assume that if it is food, I am going to have an aversion to it. Other than a few exceptions, like celery, for the most part I am like a dog that won’t pee twice in the same place. Once I have eaten something, no matter how badly I may have been craving it, it is immediately promoted to my “bad” list. I have even had to switch up the type of apples I eat.
But what has been even more strange than my aversions to food, has been my aversions to things. Yes, things. Let me lay out a quick list for you:
Bad List
1. Window fans
2. The show “Weeds”
3. Vampires
4. Dirty dishes (a convenient one, I know)
5. Water goblets
6. District 9. aliens
I’m not exactly sure how these things got on my bad list. Just all of a sudden I wanted to vomit at the mention of “Weeds” or at the thought of drinking out of a water goblet. You can image what life is now for Bill. No pregnancy book could have prepared him for the crazy world of a pregnant Jessica. But I like to think that it is that kind of uniqueness that makes him love me so much. Now I am going to go eat some celery…
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Bill may be having a little too much fun
My first OB/GYN appointment was pretty nerve racking. Even though I have only read about a thousand books on the subject of pregnancy, I still had no idea what to expect. As we walked into the doctor’s office, I was quiet and reserved, while Bill was happily bouncing around, grabbing pamphlets and reading posters.
I must have been visibly nervous because the nurse at the desk said softly, “Don’t worry. We don’t bite here.” To give you an idea of just how nervous I was, I said very seriously, “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that,” and remained in my reserved position. Bill, mean while, was next to me busily scribbling his information down for a mailing list and then cheerfully asked where he was to submit the card.
We must have been quite the sight because the nurse kept glancing quickly back and forth at us. She then said to us in the same soothing tone, “Is this your first?” Just as I mustered out a quiet “yes,” Bill said loudly, “That I know of.”
That was enough to break me out of my shell. The whole office, including me, broke into roaring laughter. It reminded me of how lucky I am too have him by my side, to always make me laugh, even when I don’t think I want to.
Flash forward a week and we are browsing in a baby store. There are other soon to be parents who, like us, are trying to make sense of the rows of cribs and bumpers and boppies. Bill sees a comfy rocking chair and plops into it. “Ooo, I like this!” he says. He then cradles his arm and begins to fake sob. Through his “sobbing” he starts to say desperately, “Please… please just shut-up. Why won’t you sleep? Wh-h-h-h-y? Why won’t you just sleep?”
The people around us didn’t think it was too funny, maybe because it was scarily too close to the truth. But once again, Bill had me roaring, happy to know that when we are sleep deprived and covered in goo, there will still be laughter, even if it just from the memory of a time when it was funny.
I must have been visibly nervous because the nurse at the desk said softly, “Don’t worry. We don’t bite here.” To give you an idea of just how nervous I was, I said very seriously, “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that,” and remained in my reserved position. Bill, mean while, was next to me busily scribbling his information down for a mailing list and then cheerfully asked where he was to submit the card.
We must have been quite the sight because the nurse kept glancing quickly back and forth at us. She then said to us in the same soothing tone, “Is this your first?” Just as I mustered out a quiet “yes,” Bill said loudly, “That I know of.”
That was enough to break me out of my shell. The whole office, including me, broke into roaring laughter. It reminded me of how lucky I am too have him by my side, to always make me laugh, even when I don’t think I want to.
Flash forward a week and we are browsing in a baby store. There are other soon to be parents who, like us, are trying to make sense of the rows of cribs and bumpers and boppies. Bill sees a comfy rocking chair and plops into it. “Ooo, I like this!” he says. He then cradles his arm and begins to fake sob. Through his “sobbing” he starts to say desperately, “Please… please just shut-up. Why won’t you sleep? Wh-h-h-h-y? Why won’t you just sleep?”
The people around us didn’t think it was too funny, maybe because it was scarily too close to the truth. But once again, Bill had me roaring, happy to know that when we are sleep deprived and covered in goo, there will still be laughter, even if it just from the memory of a time when it was funny.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Twiglet
As many of you may know, in 2004, when I was 22, I was diagnosed with cancer. I was one of the lucky ones. They caught it early, I had a fantastic team of doctors at some of the best hospitals in the world, and after the two-year ordeal, I survived practically unscathed, with only a two-inch scar across my neck; a scar I wear with pride that keeps me grateful for the life I have.
Bill and I say that having cancer at such a young age was actually a blessing in disguise. Because there is a thirty-percent chance that my cancer could come back, I am closely monitored by a team of doctors. I have bi-annual exams, yearly ultrasounds and every few years I get full body scans. Now, if the smallest thing pops up on the screen, I am whisked through a battery of tests to nip it in the bud. It is actually quite amazing.
I estimate that since I was first diagnosed, I have had a dozen or so ultrasounds. With every one, there is always some anxiety that the technician will say, “Hmm,” suddenly focusing on one part of my neck and bringing in the radiologist for a second opinion, as I lay there desperately trying to decipher the fuzziness of the screen. But almost always, she evenly scans my neck, then turns with a smile and tells me everything looks great and that I can go home worry free for another year.
But this year has brought a big change for Bill and I. September 1, 2009 was an exciting day for us. It was on this day that I had my first ultrasound that wasn’t for cancer screening. And when something did pop up on the fuzzy black and white screen, it brought joy, not fear. It brought promises for the future, and didn’t threaten to take them away. It was on this day, during my first non-cancer screening ultrasound, that they found the precious beating heart of a new life forming.
I will be honest, it was really surreal. As the doctor set up the ultrasound, it was instinctual to be a little anxious. And as strange as this may sound, I didn’t want her to find anything because I’ve been conditioned to think that finding something is a bad thing. As she smiled down at me and showed us on the screen where our little one was, I kept trying to wrap my head around the fact that something is growing inside me that is good. With a blank stare, all I could muster was an “Huh.”
She printed out a picture of the ultrasound and gave it to us to bring home. I kept staring at it. I kept asking Bill what he thought, needing some guidance for what I was to think. When I got home, I put the picture up on the fridge, and then it hit me. I’m pregnant!
Bill and I say that having cancer at such a young age was actually a blessing in disguise. Because there is a thirty-percent chance that my cancer could come back, I am closely monitored by a team of doctors. I have bi-annual exams, yearly ultrasounds and every few years I get full body scans. Now, if the smallest thing pops up on the screen, I am whisked through a battery of tests to nip it in the bud. It is actually quite amazing.
I estimate that since I was first diagnosed, I have had a dozen or so ultrasounds. With every one, there is always some anxiety that the technician will say, “Hmm,” suddenly focusing on one part of my neck and bringing in the radiologist for a second opinion, as I lay there desperately trying to decipher the fuzziness of the screen. But almost always, she evenly scans my neck, then turns with a smile and tells me everything looks great and that I can go home worry free for another year.
But this year has brought a big change for Bill and I. September 1, 2009 was an exciting day for us. It was on this day that I had my first ultrasound that wasn’t for cancer screening. And when something did pop up on the fuzzy black and white screen, it brought joy, not fear. It brought promises for the future, and didn’t threaten to take them away. It was on this day, during my first non-cancer screening ultrasound, that they found the precious beating heart of a new life forming.
I will be honest, it was really surreal. As the doctor set up the ultrasound, it was instinctual to be a little anxious. And as strange as this may sound, I didn’t want her to find anything because I’ve been conditioned to think that finding something is a bad thing. As she smiled down at me and showed us on the screen where our little one was, I kept trying to wrap my head around the fact that something is growing inside me that is good. With a blank stare, all I could muster was an “Huh.”
She printed out a picture of the ultrasound and gave it to us to bring home. I kept staring at it. I kept asking Bill what he thought, needing some guidance for what I was to think. When I got home, I put the picture up on the fridge, and then it hit me. I’m pregnant!
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