Here are some things I know about my fetus already:
1. He has a penis. So, he’s either a boy, or a girl with a penis. I’m guessing the prior.
2. He loves Led Zepplin. I blast it when I’m driving alone. He dances. Or, kicks me hard like and old lady banging on the ceiling to keep that racket down. I choose the prior again.
3. He loves Mexican food. He requested it every day while we were in New Mexico. I obliged. He especially likes green chilies.
4. He loves food in general. He kicks most when I’m hungry, and then immediately after I’ve eaten some food (especially Mexican food). Thank you kicks!
5. He takes his own sweet time. (Please see the first umpteen months of my blog archive.)
6. He’s practicing kicking hard. Last night I sat on the couch and watched my stomach bounce up and down with his kicks for about fifteen minutes. Freaky.
7. Yet he is shy. He still has not performed his kicking tricks in any way that his Mama can feel them. And during the anatomy scan, he kept covering his face and turning his back as though guarding himself from paparazzi.
8. I know his first name. But I’m not telling you. Secrets are fun.
9. He’s got parts. Fingers, toes, leg bones, a heart with chambers, a really cute cerebellum. I saw them all during the anatomy scan. Parts are good.
10. He finds my sciatic nerve as comfy as a pillow. Only the best for my babe.
So my neighbor, friend and former TTC buddy Gwen gave birth to her twin girls on Valentine’s Day at 32 weeks.
They are tiny and beautiful.
I wanted to give her a shout-out and tell you a story about how cute my son is. Because I’m sure I’ve never-before mentioned his cuteness, right?
We were at Gwen’s house. She was taking the hangers off of a huge pile of pink baby clothes. (I’m telling you people, there is no avoiding the pink/blue hysteria. Good luck to those of you who are keeping it secret or waiting to find out. As goddess is my witness, you, too will one day be pulling the hangers off of a pile of pink or blue clothes.) Cakie looked at them and said “Those are for grills.” (Again, did I put this idea in his head? No. I freaking hate pink.) I said, “Well Gwen is going to have two girls coming to live here. They will be Hymen’s sisters. See the babies?” Then I held up the photo from the birth announcement for him to see.
“Those are grills? Those my grills! Those my grills! My grills! Those my grills.”
The more pregnant I get, the more cute he gets, I swear. And I’m totally unbiased.
If you’re TTC, feel free to skip right over this, because I’m about to be ungrateful.
I FEEL LIKE CRAP.
My head hurts and Tylenol is a placibo.
My back hurts and Tylenol is a placibo.
I walk like a duck.
I climb stairs like someone who really needs to jump on the spaceship in the movie “Cacoon.”
My belly feels like I binged on something. Lots of something. But I didn’t. Oh, it looks like that, too.
And Tylenol is just a big fat lie.
I would love a margarita. Doc said I could have wine once a month, but I haven’t taken her up on it yet. I don’t know that I will. Another day like this and I probably will.
Thanks for listening. Sorry for whining.
Hmmm. Where should I start?
10. I’m going to completely forget everything newborn. Heck. I already do.
9. I’m going to give birth quickly– while crossing the Brooklyn Bridge — trying to get to the hospital.
8. I’m going to get thrown in jail for assaulting any medical personnel who approach me with any kind of scalpel-esque cutting device while I’m in labor. Jail — it’s no place for the breastfeeding new mother.
7. I’m going to get kicked out of my lovely home because we can’t pay the mortgage because we chose to use a midwife, instead of my in-plan OB, and then the insurance company decided not to pay for the midwife because I had to have a c-section…plus my poor honey had to bail me out of jail for assaulting the medical presonnel who tried to initiate the c-section.
6. Who is this donor anyway? I know more about my mailman.
5. I don’t know when to tell my toddler about his up-coming little brother. I’m afraid I’ll somehow tell him at the wrong time, messing up their sybling relationship indefinately.
4. I’m afraid I’ll try to potty train Cakie in a fit of fear of two kids in diapers. This will mess up his potty training indefinately. It will lead to weird therapy issues later.
3. I have to push another person’s entire body through my vagin@? I have to what???
2. I’m afraid of stretch marks and sits baths. And tears. And incontinence. And all the other stuff people never say out loud about giving birth.
And the number one illogical-ish fear of this first-time pregnant, second-time mom?
1. I’m afraid there’s no way the baby in my womb could possibly be as cute and smart as Cakie. He’s just doomed. Poor little fetus. Every time I look at Cake I think, well… maybe the second one will be exceptionally clever? Good with electronics? Funny? God help him. He has a tough act to follow.
I’m just saying “Hi.”
We’re still in New Mexico. I’m too jet-lagged to say anything exciting. I’ve watched the wild turkeys tramp across my dad’s fields a few times. I’ve chased my son up and down the stairs (which have no railing) a bunch of times. Baby brother has been kicking up a storm. I can feel him kick from the outside, but A has yet to feel it. I really want her to.
What’s blue?About 78% of the clothes in Cakie’s closet. (Hand-me-downs…I’d never buy so much of one color on purpose.) They are waiting to be worn by Cake’s little brother.
That’s right, it’s a boy.
Sorry about the delay. I got sucked into a vortex of getting-my-family-packed-and-off-to New Mexico. Where I am now.
It’s a brother!
Tomorrow I find out. I feel nervous.
Not about the sex. I just feel nervous.
So, I’ll let you know.
PS I did some/thing borrowed yesterday for the Other Mother meme.
PPS Happy Valentine’s Day. Go kiss your honey. If you don’t have a honey, give yourself a kiss from me. XXX