My fetus is growing up before my very eyes

Well, yesterday I dropped off my registration form and $75.00 to place Pat on a waitlist at a daycare facility. So when Pat is 12 weeks old, I'll have someone else raise them while I try to make enough money to pay for daycare! I'm trying to find the logic in there somewhere.

BIG RIG!

I'm sitting at the dining room table drinking milk and writing thank you cards and my adoring husband comes up and says "Are you finished with your milk, Big Rig?" I guess I have a new pregnancy nickname.

My fetus is trying to escape!

Or at least that's how it feels. And only being 26.5 weeks, it's too early for that. I know I've commented on how active Pat is, but the activity lately has felt like it's trying to bust out of the ol' uterus by way of my belly button. Seriously! After Christian watched my belly moving around last night he asked if it hurt when Pat moved like that. Most of the time it doesn't, but there have been a few occasions where I've slapped my stomach to try and get Pat to move off of the nerve it's punching/kicking/strumming/gnawing on. I wonder if that's any indication of what kind of physical force I'll use on my children. Don't judge me (I know you're judging me).

In other Pat adventures, Pat's been getting the hiccups like crazy. I think I started feeling them a week or two ago. Today I've counted 3 separate occasions. I think that's normal, based on what other moms have told me. It's a cool feeling, that's for sure. I'm glad I don't get the hiccups that often.

Oh, and isn't there some kind of condition most pregnant women get where their minds go a little goofy during pregnancy? They start forgetting things, bumping into things, etc? Well, I am no exception. In the last 3 days I have broken 2 cereal bowls (one in front a professional chef who came over for lunch), landed on my butt while hiking down from Catherine's Pass, and peed through my underwear while sitting on the toilet. Turns out I didn't manage to pull my underwear down when I pulled my pants down and didn't realize it until I had finished. Good times. I can only see this "condition" getting worse over the next few months, so if I forget your name while talking to you or you see me bumping into walls, think nothing of it. We'll just blame it on Pat.

UPDATE as of 09/29/09. One of the girls in my book club (who of course shall remain nameless) said she peed through her underwear when she was pregnant too! And someone else, who's never been pregnant, said she's done it. Now I don't feel like as big of a knob as I originally did!

Honey...why is the baby in the dishwasher?

Every roommate I've ever had has told me I talk in my sleep. My first-year roommate in university would try and get secrets out of me at night because she knew I'd give up the dirt. I guess I just have an overly active mind that doesn't really sleep while my body is resting. I don't know. But over the years, there have been some funny incidents that involve me + unconscious activity.

When Christian and I were first married, one night I woke up and there were monkeys crawling in through the bedroom window. No. Really. There were. I yelled, "AAAAAAAAAA, MONKEYS!!!" and hopped on Christian's chest (facing his face), yelled "MONKEYS!!", then hopped off onto the floor and tried to crawl out the bedroom. I think Christian was pulling on my leg as I tried to escape the wrath of the primates. Hey, they might look all cute and cuddly, but there are some mean sons of guns in the primate world and I was not about to get tangled up with them. I eventually woke up to discover there were, in fact, no monkeys plotting revenge on the Hancocks.

Almost every night, about 20 minutes after I fall asleep, I sit up in bed with a loud gasp and say "what's going on?" or "what, what, what, what, what, what, what" or "fatty fatty fat fat you really shouldn't eat that" (I know, impressive that I make up rhymes while asleep). Other nights I jump out of bed, sometimes landing on my feet, sometimes not. Sometimes I wake up standing on the bed, trying to hold the wall up, or I alert Christian that the ceiling is about to fall and I need help holding it up. It's really a mixed bag.

Last night, after I'd been asleep my usual 20 minutes, I said "What are you doing?!?" then fell back asleep. This was Christian's cue that he could now fall asleep because my nightly incident was over and I'd probably sleep through the night. Wrong! Maybe 10 minutes later, just as Christian was falling asleep I hit him in the head and said "STOP IT! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING OVER THERE!!". You see, I thought Christian was involved in some less than decent behaviour on his side of the bed. But he wasn't (he wants you to know that he really wasn't). When he told me about it this morning, I started wondering what's going to happen when Pat arrives and I have my nightly incidents. How will I behave when I'm operating on very little sleep? Will my episodes get worse? Will I not have them because I'm not sleeping? And while I'm trying to joke around about it, I am actually a little worried that I really will put the baby in the dishwasher, or something far worse.

So if anyone knows of a cure for what I've got, I'd love to know what it is and how I can keep Pat safe from it's crazy Mum! Oh...wait a second...a brilliant idea! Maybe Christian should get up and do the nightly feedings so I can get my rest and stay away from Pat so I don't do anything to it. Hmmmm...I like where I'm going with this idea.

Do they make maternity SPANX?

And if so, is it wrong for me to want some to contain my growing body?

What's that Pat? You'd like a little Eddie Vedder with your night-time feeding?

When I was home a few weeks ago, my cousin, who is a music therapist (don't ask--I don't exactly understand what someone in that profession does), told me that the music I play for Pat right now and throughout the rest of the pregnancy is what will soothe him/her after they are born. This supports what I've been reading about too. So I guess Pat will drift off to sleep each night with a little Pearl Jam, The Tragically Hip, Green Day, and The Beastie Boys, because that's what I like to listen to...LOUD! Pat's going to be one cool baby.

On another note, I've got the windows open because it's such a beautiful day-before-fall day and I'm listening to my 2.5 year old neighbour throw a fit. I'm not so sure I'm ready for motherhood. CHRISTIAN!!! WHAT HAVE WE DONE?!?    

25 week bump shot

Well, things got too crazy for a 24 week photo so you'll have to settle for an extra week. I cannot believe the difference from 22 to 25weeks even. I feel enormous. I feel like little kids are going to go running and screaming when they see me for fear that I will shove them down my throat. That's how big I feel. Turning over in bed requires so much effort--I wonder how it will be when I get even bigger.

Sorry I didn't dress up or do my hair or makeup for the shot. I think that's how things are going to be from here on out.

So many of my friends (that don't see me on a regular basis) do not believe that my boobs haven't gotten enormous. As you can see, they aren't. I am not wired to have large knockers. I am busting out of my A bras and really need to buy some Bs, but I really don't think I'm going to get larger than that. Bummer. I was hoping for some killer jugs.

I did return to the gym last week for the first time in...oh...months! The stair climber used to be a great workout, and actually still is, but I think it's too much of a great workout. I had to have it on a level 2 to keep my heart rate below 150. So not cool. So it's the elliptical, weights, and spin class for me for as long as I can. Hoping I can do that right up until Pat's arrival, but we shall see. Maybe because I've put it out there for the whole world to see I'll stick to my plan. Or not. And tomorrow my friend and I are heading out on our mountain bikes but we're riding road the entire time. I can't wait to see if I can even fit one leg into my bike shorts! That will be a lovely sight. I don't think I'll be posting a photo of that train wreck.

This week also marked the beginning of two things. The first is I'm having to wear maternity clothes now. Not bad. I made it to week 24.5 so I'm feeling good about that. The second is my appetite has suddenly gone from normal to Elvis-in-later-years. I could not consume enough food today. Try as I might, I was hungry all day. And I find Pat gets really active both when I'm hungry and immediately after I eat, so needless to say, Pat was pretty active all day.

Well, I'm off to a friend's grand opening of a candy shop here in SLC. I plan on purchasing her entire stock of chocolate-covered gummy bears. If there's a shortage of them in SLC, come see me. Pat and I are probably hoarding them.

I. AM. OVERWHELMED.

Before I launch into my next diatribe (spelling? correct usage?), I would like to know who snuck a break-dancing cardboard into my uterus because YOU KNOW WHO could not have been doing anything other than some helicopters, body rockin', donkey kicks, hopping flare, and some headspins last night. It was quite the spectacle as Pat took things old school for about 30 minutes while I was trying to read. Christian and I were howling with laughter at the shapes my abdomen took on and for such an extended period of time. I was imagining Pat, all 1 lb of it, in some acid-washed jeans, a bandana tied around it's thigh, and a Run DMC t-shirt on, listening to some Beastie Boys, which I listen to quite loudly on my way to work. Wait, can you break-dance to the Beastie Boys?

So much going on. I need to get Pat to sleep so Pat can keep me awake all night, so this will be brief and I will expand upon it soon, but this feeling of being overwhelmed pummeled me today. The reality of Pat's impending arrival and the list of everything to do before that date slapped me hard across the face around 10:00 a.m. as I was sitting in a daycare facility waiting for a tour. Side note: have you seen how large the creepy floating baby is on the left side of the screen? It's getting so unbelievably big...just like Pat.

My job is quite stressful as I'm fighting to keep from being fired for not reaching my quota (oh the joys of 100% commission sales jobs).

And a friend of mine is going through a really ugly time in her marriage and I am her confidant and it's hard. Very hard because I adore this friend and her kids and they don't deserve this. And some nights when I'm listening to her tell me what's going on, my heart rate gets really high and it scares me because I worry I could damage Pat, or worse.

And to top it off, I had to wear maternity clothes for the first time today. What is up with that flesh coloured panel on maternity jeans?

So it's not a matter of me being blue--I don't even have room in my head to think about being blue. I think I'd take blue over what I've got right now.

Okay, I hear some Beastie Boys coming from down there--time for the show.

Signs your husband might be having an affair...with his juicer

Now before you get all mad at me for joking around about infidelity, please know that someone very close to me had her husband cheat on her with his hygenist (and married her shortly after the divorce was final). I don't take adultery lightly and neither should you. But I really couldn't come up with a better, more accurate title for this post.

A few weeks ago my husband, Christian, turned to me in all seriousness and said "I know what I want for my birthday...a Jack LaLanne Power Juicer." My response: "Yeah right. You're kidding, right? What are you, gay?" Nope, the man was as serious as he knows how to be. Turns out he'd seen an infomercial. It was love at first sight! And I'm not kidding at all. Being the adoring wife (and not knowing what else to get him), I promptly found one and bought it and hid it in the extra dryer we have in the garage, right beside the beer/condiment fridge. Little did I know what was in store for the Hancock household.

The night we celebrated his birthday I gave him his other gift (a print I had made of his other love, our scooter Stella) and told him to close his eyes. I ran/waddled out to the garage and heaved the 30 lb juicer out of the dryer and ran/waddled back into the living room where he still had his eyes closed. I placed it beside him, stood back so I could watch his reaction, and told him to open his eyes. I'm not kidding you, if our friends hadn't been sitting there, he would have squealed with delight. It was like watching a 5 year old open the one thing he'd been hoping Santa would place under the Christmas tree. It was that kind of pure glee. It was cool to watch. Again, little did I know.

In 2 days, and I kid you not, 2 days, my husband spent almost $60.00 on fruit!! On fruit!! One day he juiced 3 times. Since his birthday, he has had juice every single day for breakfast (and nothing else)and most days comes home to juice again. I could do without setting my alarm in the morning because at exactly 7:30 every day, I hear the juicer start up. Our beer/condiment fridge looks like half of Costco's freaking produce department. We went to Barnes & Noble to look for some books on how to get your baby to sleep and he comes down the escalator, almost skipping down the escalator, with a juice recipe book in hand and asked me if he could buy it. I might keep track of our spending but I don't control the purse strings and said "why not." Sometimes he calls me at work to tell me what he's going to juice that day. Did I mention the juicer has it's own special place at the dining room table? And tonight I came home from running some errands to find this:

Christian in bed with the juicer!

If he wasn't such a great husband AND the father of our unborn child, I think I'd be kicking him and that two-bit hussy of a juicer to the curb.

My muscles are doing what?!

I've had this sharp pain right around where I'm guessing my sternum is. I was a Geography/Education major--no Anat & Phys classes for me. It's been lingering around that area for the last week and a half or so. I've never experienced heart burn before so I turned to the expert, my husband, who has worked the acid reflux circuit for a long time. His heart burn is so bad we can't eat at Red Iguana (my favourite Mexican joint in SLC) but once a year...on my birthday because that's where I always request to go. And one time last year, his heart burn was so bad he started vomiting and freaked out when he thought he was throwing up blood. Turns out it was red wine. Which kind of reminds me of when someone who shall remain nameless thought he had anal cancer but he had eaten a few too many beets the day before. Anyhoo...

Turns out I don't have heart burn. Phew! It's only my muscles separating from each other. Whachoo talkin' bout, mid-wife? I asked her at the appointment this morning and that was her response. Now she's had 7 kids of her own (bless her heart and her uterus and other female parts) but I'm guessing she's forgotten the pain. It's pretty rotten. And again, it's one of those things no one warned me about. So anyone reading this blog who is newly knocked up or trying to, take heed. When your muscles start to rip away from each other one ligament at a time, it's not a party.

The good news is my pregnancy is "textbook" according to the mid-wife. Pat's heart rate was 162 and while she was listening to it through the Doppler Doo Hickey she actually said "I think your baby is doing Tae Kwon Do in there!" Weird! Has she been reading my blog? (just last week I referenced Pat doing Tae Kwon Do!!). My weight gain is average. My uterus is average size. We're all systems a go at Team Hancock. 24 week photo coming soon.

I think I have the baby blues before the baby has actually arrived

In some of my pregnancy related readings I've come across thefact that some women struggle with their emotions during pregnancy. All along, I've felt great. Once the shock of ACTUALLY BEING PREGNANT wore off, it was replaced with excitement and giddy-ness and looking forward to Pat's birth. It was like watching a Lawrence Welk Show every day! I'd say my emotions have been pretty stable these last few months. I think Christian's even noticed that I haven't tried to throw him down the stairs (like I usually do a day or two before I get my monthly visitor). But enter the sadness.

When we were trying to conceive, there was a very dark period of time that was so overwhelming for me. I had this un-shakeable sadness and my thoughts were very, very, VERY, dark for waaaaaaaaaay too long a stretch. I cried on my way to work, in the bathroom at work, on the way home from work, in bed, in the shower, at church, in Babinski's Baby Boutique, in the grocery store, at the gas station, watching t.v., in my husband's arms, in my friends' arms...you get the picture. My job turned out to be something so far less than what I had expected and I felt like the world's biggest failure. Money was so tight for us because I am a crazy woman and took a 100% commission job in advertising during the beginning of one of the worst economic times in this country. To top it off, everyone around me was getting pregnant left, right, and center. I seriously had one weekend where I found out 3 people were pregnant (one on Saturday, one on Sunday, and one on Monday). And the majority of these conceptions were either unplanned or came very easy to my dear, sweet friends. And then I had my posse that would call or e-mail me around the time I was expecting the Crimson Tide to find out if I'd "gotten it yet." And then there were the people that would say "When are you going to get started on that family of yours?", not knowing it had been a year and a half of A LOT OF TRYING, a lot of horrible invasive tests, and a lot of very bad thoughts. Side note: I'm learning a lot of do's and don'ts during this pregnancy and one thing I learned while trying to conceive is to not ask someone when they're going to start trying. You just never know--maybe they've been trying for years and you are pouring battery acid in their very open wounds. And so I'm letting you know right now that I will never, ever, ever ask you if you are trying. So don't think me uncaring--it's actually because I DO care that I'm not asking.

All that to say I wasn't really blue. I was an unidentified shade of blue on the spectrum of emotions. But what I'm experiencing right now is in fact an identified shade of blue. Maybe cornflower blue. Or sky blue. Nothing too dramatic, but it's there. You might not notice it even because I'm still laughing, still cracking jokes, still acting like my normal self. But I know it's there. And it kind of turned a couple of hues bluer yesterday when it actually should have lightened up a bit. Here's why.

On Monday morning we had our friends, Greg, Tara, and their 2 year-old boy, Benton, over for a pancake breakfast. Tara was 40 weeks pregnant and was going to be induced this coming Thursday. Tara wasn't quite herself because she was concerned that she hadn't felt the baby move and she spent some time on the red shag carpet in the Swingers Lounge (our family room in the basement), trying to get that baby to do something (I think it was in a pancake and sausage coma). They left to get things checked out at the hospital as I guess that's what you do if you can't get the baby to move. Well, that night she called to say her water had broken and they were at the hospital and she was dilated to a 3. Fast forward to yesterday morning at 7:55 a.m. when Greg called to say she was fully dilated and ready to push and I had better drive like a bat out of hell to get there in time. Which I did because I am the best driver I know. Saw them before game time and went to wait in the hall for their baby's arrival. I should probably inform you that they are cool people, just like Christian and me, and didn't know the gender of the baby.

Everyone except me has been predicting a girl. I was so sure it was a boy that I went out on Saturday and bought a super cool onesie made for a boy.I was hoping they'd have a boy because I'm so sure that Pat is a boy, I wanted our sons to grow up and be best buddies. But they didn't have a boy. After pushing through only 2 contractions, I repeat, 2 contractions, lasting less than 2 minutes total, Tara produced a girl, Charlotte May Ross (6 lbs 6 oz, 17.5"). I heard Greg yell "It's a girl!" and out poured the tears. Tears of joy for them. SOOOO much joy for them because I knew they were hoping for a girl. But also tears for myself. Pity tears. Disgusting selfish tears--one of the worst kind of tears you can cry. How awful is it that I'm admitting this for anyone to read? And the crazy part is Pat could be a girl and they'll grow up best buddies anyway. But the blue calmed down once I went in the room (saw some things I never want to see again and are too awful to ever write about), saw Greg and Tara's faces, and of course, met Charlotte.

So I remain slightly blue, but not so blue that a stranger would identify me as a Smurf or a member of the Blue Man Group. And I'd rather be a little blue than an unidentified colour of blue that I was earlier this year. But I expect it to let up soon, especially as we have so much to do to get ready for Pat (that's a whole nother blog entry). In the meantime, enjoy some photos from the last couple of days. Oh, and tomorrow marks 24 weeks, which I will celebrate at the mid-wife's office on the scale. I'll be posting a 24 week photo in the next couple of days and all I have to say is HOLY CRAP! The change from 20 to 24 weeks is ridiculous!

Here we are--our last bump to bump shot ever!

What happened to your neck Christian? Here we are celebrating Christian's birthday at this wonderful restaurant in SLC, Tin Angel. I think I'm starting to look like Jabba the Hutt. Why don't you come a little closer, Luke Skywalker...let me get a real good look at you before I put you in my belly!

Charlotte just a few minutes old and HEY!! check out that cleavage on you know who!! (Tara, do not murder me for putting this photo on the interweb).

Christian holding only his second newborn baby EVER. Better get used to it Christian. Mama's heading to Vegas post-partum!

Using Charlotte as Pat's stunt double.

Can I give my fetus Ritalin?

If my baby is ridiculously busy in the womb at 23 weeks, does that mean I'm going to give birth to a hyperactive child? Or one that doesn't sleep? Will it be like it's mom and hate to miss out on the fun stuff? 

I'm starting to get nervous. Am I going to be one of those mothers that has to leash my child so they don't wreak havoc everywhere they go? Am I really going to be one of THOSE mothers? (said accusingly). Of course I'm joking about the Ritalin--don't go judging me just yet. I actually thoroughly enjoy every time Pat rolls over or attends intra-utero Tae Kwon Do classes. Pat has not yet started relaxing on my bladder with it's feet kicked up on my lungs, flipping through the channels on UTV, sipping a Juicy Juice, so it's all good. 

I just don't know what "normal movement" should be like. Is feeling my baby move almost every hour, for 30-60 minutes each time, normal? Maybe I won't know until I'm pregnant again. 

But until Pat's arrival, I think I'll start looking into leashes! (J/K)

Just giving a shout out to my husband, Christian, on this, the day he entered the world, 38 years ago. Happy Birfday to the BEST and FUNNIEST husband any girl could ever hope for! Now go bbq those ribeye steaks, birthday boy!!

A couple of pregnancy observations

Well, I'm back from my 10 days with my family. I had a great time with them (well, most...one person was a complete idiot) and enjoyed catching up with 2 long-time friends. Pat was spoiled at the baby shower my sister Heidi threw for us and I'll post some photos as soon as I receive them from my sister.

I've been meaning to write about this phenomenon (not sure if that's the correct usage of the word) that has been occurring quite a lot over the last several weeks. Every time I speak with or see someone who knows I'm knocked up, the first thing they do when they see it's me is look at my belly. It doesn't bother me--I can't help the fact that I'm getting rather rotund--but I find it rather comical. Most people try to sneak a peak while I'm looking away from their eyes for a second but some are rather obvious. I started noticing this at church about 3 weeks ago when I still wasn't really showing. This past week with my family and friends was no exception. And flying back to SLC yesterday, I noticed complete strangers looking too. I think they're trying to figure out if I'm really pregnant or just carrying some extra weight. I can't blame them as I do the same thing. And I've known all along that people would start rubbing or touching my belly as soon as I started to show and lo and behold, it has happened. I'm not one of those people that minds either--I love receiving hugs, butt slaps, the occasional headlock--so I don't shy away when I see an open palm approaching my mid section. But I've heard tell that there are some strangers that will approach pregnant women and I'm not sure how I'll react to that. I think that's crossing the line. If someone does attempt it with me, I think I'll slap their hand. And hiss. Those seem like appropriate reactions. But for all others, rub away. And you can even blatantly stare at my belly if you want. I know you're doing it anyway (you're really not fooling anyone).

There are a few questions that almost everyone asks. When are you due? Are you having a boy or a girl? How are you feeling? And then the dreaded question (only dreaded because I know what their reaction will be upon my answer)--What names have you picked out? Because we opted to be cool and not find out the gender, we of course have to come up with a girl AND a boy name. When I inform people of our girl selection, almost everyone says something to the effect that they approve. We've chosen a first and middle name that are classic and are not trendy (in our mind)--Rachel Grace. I love, love, love the name Harper for a girl (Harper Hancock...sounds like an author) but Christian is vehemently opposed. And besides, before we even found out we were with Pat we had decided to name our daughter (should Pat be of that persuasion) after an amazing friend of mine that recently passed away due to cancer (www.deathisnotdying.com). And here comes the fun part. When I tell people we can't come up with a boy name we like, out come the suggestions. Do you really think we haven't mulled that name over and thrown it in the discard pile? Really, you think that's a good name? You're serious?  I am a people pleaser. Always have been, always will be. But I'm also blunt, which sometimes negates the people pleaser in me. I've decided to go with the blunt responses when someone suggests a name. Someone recently told me a name we should definitely name the baby and I said "mmmmmm, well, I went to school with someone by that name and all I can picture is a nose-picking, crotch-fondling hooligan, so I don't think so."

So, the moral of the story is, I know you're trying to see the belly so don't feel like you have to be uber sneaky, and you can recommend boy's names to me but you have to be prepared for how I REALLY feel about it and you can't be offended when I tell you it sucks. If you suggest a name that I actually like, I'll give you a trophy!