Gratitude

My darling little girl discovered my kidney the other day. She gave it a swift kick when I was in the middle of a meeting and I very nearly yelped out loud. I thought that was rather annoying until she discovered this spot under my left rib and jammed herself in there. No lie, I did everything I could think of to get her to move: massaged the area, put an ice cube on the opposite end of my belly (usually that gets her moving to kick it off), a piece of chocolate, a talking to from Brent, and nothing. I'm no wimp, but this really hurt. At at about 3AM she finally moved off my left rib like a little pod detaching from a spaceship. She rolled and swirled and gently kicked until she finally settled... under my RIGHT rib. Sooo I'm forcing myself to blog this one before I become one of those women who does nothing but complain about her pregnancy. I'm desperate to be a cheerful mother-to-be who can only say that I wish I could be pregnant forever.

Top 10 Things I LOVE About Being Pregnant

10. I can eat anything I want. Well, anything aside from cold-cut sandwiches, egg-nog, sushi, raw cookie dough, caffeine and heroin. But those things are overrated, right?

9. I now always get a seat on the T. Always. Even the old ladies are giving up their seats for me now. I guess I now qualify as someone "anciana o invalida"

8. There is a secret hierarchy of questions a pregnant woman receives that goes something like this: When are you due? Do you know what you're having? Have you thought of any names? Are you planning to work after she's born? Right now I pretty much get the last two and I've had a lot of fun coming up with different answers to entertain myself. Over Christmas I told my in-laws we wanted our children to have an appreciation of all cultures so we were thinking of Hoolihay Wang. Originally we had considered Hoolihay Wong but we didn't want her to feel like there was anything "wong" with her.

7. Brent has found so very many friends among other husbands who's wives are expecting. After a talk with one of these gentleman, he seems so happy. Kind of like finding out that rash you have is an epidemic and everyone is going through it, it's just that no one talks about it. So I'm glad he's doing the manly bonding.

6. I can magically make myself pass out by trying to tie my shoes. Apparently bending over cuts off the circulation to my brain so I play this little game with myself. I try to pick up things off the floor until I see spots. Never could do that before. Maybe that's why pregnant women "glow". The excessive gas could also be the culprit for the "glow".

5. Finding the caveat to the fashion rule that black is slimming. I tried wearing all black the other day and I looked like a licorice jelly bean. By the end of the day I actually craved licorice jelly beans.

4. Seeing yet again how freaking fantabulous my husband is as he massages my back, gets me cold water, wipes away my tears when I'm having a "moment"... okay "day" and does his darndest to find strawberry cake mix at the store. Why is that so hard to find anyway? Go to any fast food chain and they have shakes in chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. Go to the store and the cake mixes come in chocolate, vanilla and carrot. I seriously don't get it. Aren't there more people out there who would like a strawberry cupcake with buttercream frosting? Am I reaching for the stars here?

3. My recent nesting stage has been a perfect excuse to get Brent to throw out his stuff. Uhm, I mean, "organize" his "memorabilia". In all seriousness, he's done a fantastic job so far and I'm impressed with how much he's scaled down.

2. Gymboree. This one just about makes number 1 so it's a CLOSE second. I love Gymboree. I can fantasize for hours about what my little girl will look like in their Holland line, their Rainy Day line, their pajamas and shoes and coordinating hats (oh my!).

1. For the first time in my life, my thuttocks look small and petite. The reason is twofold: My huge belly makes Mount Krakatoa look small and it casts a shadow so anything south of my belt is harder to see. Then again, that may just be from my perspective but still, it's NICE to not look down and just hate my body. Now I look down and observe the Orville Redenbacher action happening in my mid-section and don't even have to worry about my back side. Out of sight, out of mind. Hooray!

There it is, I LOVE being pregnant!

The Amazing Race

"Hey, that's the Sorensons!" my husband said as the SUV pulled into the street behind us. On Sundays it suddenly becomes much easier to spot the Mormons in town because they 1- are usually in a MAV (Mormon Assault Vehicle such as a minivan or SUV) full of kids and 2- are dressed in Sunday clothes. We stopped at an intersection and the Sorensons pulled to the side to make a right-hand turn.

There are 2 basic ways to get to church. The first option is to drive up the hill to where the rich people live. It's also where the private school is and the road is a tad windy. You cross over the highway and continue on the frontage road after which you cross back under the highway and voila, you're there. The other option goes a little bit out of the way, but takes the windy roads out of the equation. Take a right at the intersection so you head down to the closest freeway entrance. Then take advantage of the speed and get off at the appropriate off-ramp, cross under the freeway and voila, you're there. We typically take the first and on this fateful morning, the Sorensons took the second.

Brent was suddenly very alert. "Why are they going THAT way? This way's much faster... isn't it?" Hmmm, well I think that depends on the lights. Both ways have 2 sets of lights and if you get to them at the wrong time, you can be significantly delayed. As we headed up the hill he shook his head, "They're going to beat us" even as he pressed on the accelerator a bit more than usual. We hit the first red light. Clearly despondent Brent sighed, "Yeah, they're going to beat us." The light changed and we breezed through the second light. Brent brightened as he watched the cars coming off the freeway. "That's not them... that's not them... THAT'S not them... THERE THEY ARE!!!" he gleefully shouted as they merged just behind us. "Yeah! YEAH! Oh yeah baby!!!" He high-fived me. Even as we parked the car he continued to glory in our triumph. I never knew the joy that could come from beating another family to church. After all, Mormons tend to be late.

Even though we've been married for over a year, sometimes he still surprises me... and he still always makes me smile :)

The Magic Belly

When I was on my mission Dad’s job had him traveling a lot. I often received letters that were written while he was waiting in various airports or delayed on a tarmac somewhere. After the mission and college when I started traveling for my job it became a bonding point for us both. Even now I feel like Dad’s the only one I can truly talk to who understands the ins and outs of business travel. It’s a funny juxtaposition now that I’ve recently made Platinum status on American Airlines and he’s now the missionary. He’s slogging it out in the mission field while I have people “powdering my butt” as he used to say. On my flight today from Dallas to Boston I had a lovely lunch which began with hot towels and warm nuts. The salad was good and I had to choose between the BBQ sandwich or the pizza. I declined the wine of course but warm cookies were on their way to make up for it. My glass of water (note: GLASS, not plastic cup) was not less than half empty the whole flight. They called me Ms. Wuehler… and they made sure to pronounce it right.

I have to tell you there is a certain power in being pregnant when it comes to travel. You may have noticed that before they board a flight there’s a small group of well-heeled men standing near the gate. They try to look surreptitious but they watch that gate like Ed McMahon is about to come out any minute and declare them the winner of Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. There’s a reason for this you see, every one of those business men has a laptop bag and rollerboard. Although First Class has many amenities, there is simply not much room in the overhead compartment, especially if EVERYONE has a rollerboard which pretty much everyone does. Much of the space is taken up by FAA required first aid and emergency supplies. So it’s a dog eat dog world there in First Class.

I sat back and watched them; thoroughly entertained by the way they try to edge up on one another. Clearly they're competitive people who are used to mapping out strategies for success. To put it plainly, they’re used to winning. Just before the announcement is made to board, I headed over to the group and soundly destroy their plans to race onto the jet bridge first. Who is going to be the jerk who tries to shove past the pregnant lady? That’s right, no one. The cost of doing so would be to have everyone stare you down for being utterly uncouth. They all must give me deference and it is I who makes it onto the plane first. Even the guy who eyes my belly as if he’s thinking, “She looks healthy enough, I could get ahead of her” ends up standing aside. If I choose to waddle a little slower, they must wait. In this scenario, it is I alone who sets the pace.

Once on board it doesn’t stop there because who’s going to be the jerk who makes the pregnant lady put her rollerboard into the overhead compartment? Again, they must bow to me. It’s women and children first and at the moment, I cover BOTH those categories. I trump their every advantage. They may be CEO's or high-powered salesman, but I am expecting which is something they will never have. Perhaps it’s not breaking the glass ceiling, but it is domination, even if only for the duration of a flight. Veni, Vidi, Vici.

Happy New Year

I've come to realize that when a lot of women say they just want to be a wife and mother, it sounds a lot simpler than it really is. That's the case with me anyway. Yesterday I ended up in the hospital with a nasty bug. Even though it wasn't all that serious, the doctor on call wanted me to come in just to make sure I wasn't going into preterm labor.

We got to bypass the emergency room and go straight to labor and delivery. I was told they're actually terrified of pregnant women in the emergency room. They asked Brent to wait outside while I changed into the paper-thin gown. While he waited, the nurse asked me about domestic abuse. I know this is standard but it caught me off guard. I almost blurted out, "Did you SEE him?" My sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed doll of a husband? Anyhoo, I gave her a negative response along with the questions about STD's and drug use. Ahhhh I love being a Mormon.

They hooked me up to a baby monitor and hearing my girl made me feel so much better. At one point the nurse stopped mid-sentence and said, "Someone's playing with their umbilical cord." That's one I haven't heard before. "She is?" The nurse told us she was squeezing it and then she scratched my belly to distract her and get her to stop. At that point our girl started kicking and the nurse smiled at us and said she was getting her back.

Just for good measure they took a urine sample and found I was dehydrated. The doctor showed me the little print out and pointed at one line in particular. "See that? That's a measure of your ketones... there should be no pluses." Yeah... I had four of them. Soooo I had no choice but to get an IV.

I have a fear of needles. Not pain, NEEDLES. So when someone says something like, "This one doesn't hurt" I kind of want to tear my own arm off just so I have something to throw at them. I thought shots and blood draws were bad but an IV is infinitely worse because you have to have it in for much longer. She tried my left side but apparently when I'm dehydrated I have jumpy veins and she had to take it out and try my right side. Stupid vein. I did two liters of liquids but the second one wasn't going as quickly so they pumped it into me. Not fun. It hurt all the way down the vein into my elbow and made my whole arm cold. After all that, they found there was no change. Since I was doing so much better symptomatically they let me go home with a directive to drink half/half Gatorade and water and start solids when I felt I was ready.

Remember my sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed doll of a husband? Rather than watching the Rose Bowl he sat by the hospital bed (I use this term loosely, that thing was about as comfortable as a Pilate's table), he stroked my hair and massaged my back. He told me stories to make the time pass and ran to find a nurse whenever I needed something. When we got home he unloaded the car while I soaked in a hot tub to loosen up my back and he did laundry while I blissfully floated off to sleep in our bed.

So like I said, I didn't really think all about what being a wife and mother would entail. In some ways it's hard but in others it's so very, very wonderful.