Showers of Butterflies

I admit it. I was overwhelmed. In a good way. I mean, I always knew my family and friends were pretty darn cool, but this weekend really proved it to me.

Harper's anticipated arrival date is a mere 7 weeks away and I confess I am both completely ready and absolutely, positively nowhere near ready (if it's possible to be both at the same time). Her room was pretty spare. A dresser with some clothes, a crib without a mattress or bedding, a stuffed lamb, and a rocking chair. Now, I know if we just picked up a car seat to get her home we really didn't NEED anything else- well, maybe the mattress- but being first time parents and having the personalities we have, her dad and I wanted her room to

be... well-stocked. Dollar signs floated before our eyes. It wasn't exactly our plan to (finally) buy a house a 3 months before the baby appears on the scene. It just happened that way. And added to the stress of trying to make sure everything was just so- in the house and for Harper.

Anyway, this weekend, my amazing friends and family came together to shower us with gifts for the baby. I was blown away by how many people showed up. And their generosity. Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but I'm still a little emotional thinking about it. I don't think words can express how grateful we are. Of course there are still things we want to get- I mean really, can she ever have enough? (We'll spoil her now, before she's old enough to know she's being spoiled!) Seriously though, I worked up a sweat opening gifts. Who does that?! I only hope we do her justice and are able to instill in her the same gratitude we feel towards our family and friends.

Seriously Neglected

I have seriously neglected my blogging followers (all three of them). My apologies.

The last month has been a whirlwind. Not to mention stressful. I admit, up to this point in my life, I think this whole buying a house thing has been the most stress-inducing thing I've ever done. I didn't have nightmares like I did in the weeks leading up to taking my licensure exam, but I'm fairly certain my blood pressure was elevated a bit. Nonetheless, we did manage to close on the house and immediately set to work cleaning, painting, etc. In fact, I think this week was the first time the huz and I managed to sit down since we bought the place. Thanks to our wonderful family and friends, we did get everything cleaned, painted, and moved. Now we're working on unpacking and organizing everything. And we've definitely done our part to stimulate the economy with our multiple trips to Lowe's every week. The kitties seem to be, slowly, settling in as well. Fritz isn't cowering under the bed ALL day anymore. Just last night, the doorbell rang and he didn't do more than sit up and look alarmed! Jynx, of course, is exploring every nook and cranny to see where he can cause the most trouble.

Baby Girl Morris is growing, growing, growing. Today's report was that she's right on schedule (and not measuring big, like I was told two weeks ago). But the doctor didn't really give me any answers about why I've been feeling yucky the last several days. No, I don't have a fever, I just feel icky. Her solution was to "drink more water." I'm not sure it's physically possible to consume more water... And of course, there is the inexplicable wrist pain and swelling I'm experiencing. Falling apart and I haven't even hit 30 yet!

Ever the exciting post going on here...

Yep, I got nothing. Next time I'll try to be more entertaining.

One of those days...

Ever have one of those days when, before you've even left the house in the morning, you think you would be better off going back to bed and trying again tomorrow? It's 9 am on Monday morning, and it's one of those days.

The day started out as most do. I drag my tired body out of bed and out of the bedroom where I attempt NOT to fall over the hungry beasts as the three of us make our way down stairs to the kitchen. I dodge little teeth nipping at my calves and toes- oh how it drives me crazy when one of the monsters bites my toes! I stand there waiting for the ravenous beast to finish so that I can pluck him up and away and let the not so ravenous beast finish without having to defend his food. Only this morning- Ravenous (who shall henceforth be known as Thing 2) decided he didn't want to eat and wandered off. Okay, whatever, no problem. I pick up his food and put it back in the fridge. I watch Thing 2 wander around a bit and decide he really doesn't want to eat and Thing 1 should be fine.

Now, I recently (as in yesterday) banned the kitties from the basement. Up until the last month, we had kitties who were very good about the litter box. Then about a month or so ago, the litter boxes went a little longer than normal without a cleaning and one of the Things let us know he wasn't happy about that. Litter boxes cleaned, problem solved, right? Apparently not. Somebody continued to "forget" where the box was. I don't know if said Thing has suddenly developed a taste for an extra clean potty or if the evidence of moving is throwing the Thing off. Either way, the huz and I thought perhaps the basement was a little too quiet and unmonitored. So I banned them from the basement. Mistake. I smelled something upstairs this morning. And discovered a message in the spare room. Still unsure as to if it was Thing 1 or Thing 2 (I was betting on Thing 1 since he's typically the troublemaker) I was irritated that one of them was still acting up. And then it happened. I caught Thing 2. Now, I can't prove it was him all along, but that time, at least, it was him. What Thing 2 doesn't realize, is that if he doesn't get his act together, his days are numbered. We'll get him through the move and get him settled at the new place, but if it continues to be a problem once the boxes are unpacked and he's settled, we'll be looking for a new home for the boys.

Oh, but the fun doesn't end there. Monday is trash day. And if you've read my recent posts, you know about the tight squeeze in the storage unit, I mean garage. Ok. Time to leave for work. I put my bags in the passenger seat, like always. No problems there. Open the garage door so I can fit behind the car to get to the driver's side. Usually, I pull the trash can out before getting in car, I mean, it's hard to do AFTER I get in the car, right? But this time the car was parked a little too close on that side and the trash can wouldn't fit. So I attempt to squeeze between the trash can and the car to get in and pull the car out of the garage. Well, wouldn't you know. I'm as big as a trash can and didn't fit either. Well, I did, but in the process I managed to bump my belly on the car. And of course the car hasn't been washed recently. And of course I was wearing a white shirt...

Trash can put out for trash day. Headed off to work. Out of the complex, through the housing development. Yay, the tracks are open today I can take my normal route to work. Oh, for crying out loud, would my nose stop running! There must be some tissues in here somewhere. What's that? Not tissues, but the huz's keys. Sigh. Back to the Morris residence I go...

Day 175

It's Day 175, or the first day of week 25. An estimated 105 days remaining. Which makes it sound like I have SO much more time to prepare than when I say 15 weeks... 105 days it is!

This week the books and apps say the baby weighs in at about a pound and a half and is somewhere between 9 and 13.5 inches. The size of a rutabaga- because I can picture EXACTLY how big that is without visiting my local farmers' market! All I know is she's big enough to feel like she's got a death grip on one of my ribs and be using my bladder as a trampoline at the same time.

And while it isn't Day 175 of the house saga (it just seems like it-the actual count is probably more like Day 150)- the boxes continue to pile up slowly. I try to pack one or two every day. But there are only so many non-essentials that can spend weeks all packed up. And the newly packed box typically sits in a really conveniently located place for loading and a really inconvenient place for maneuvering around the condo, seeing as how it stays where it is once full until the huz has time to move it to the garage. Oh and the garage. That's a fun place. I was thrilled when it was MY turn to start parking in the garage and the huz had to deal with the elements before work in the mornings. Well, now that it's become more and more of a storage unit so that our residence doesn't look like a warehouse, it's like an obstacle course. Pull in slowly, not too far in or you'll whack the mirror on the fridge. Open the door slightly to see if you're too close to the boxes. Wiggle out of the car and hope there's enough room so squeeze the rutabaga between the car and the trash can. Check to see if you pulled far enough forward to close the garage door. Shimmy down the other side of the car- oops, watch your head, don't want to hit it on the snow shovel hanging down there. Made it to the door where then you must try not to trip over the two cats who have some strange fascination with slinking into the garage. EVERY DAY. The same cats I just watched pull a highlighter out from under the sofa. Wonder how many more they have stored under there...better save a small box to pack their treasures in after the movers (and by movers I mean friends who are getting paid in pizza and beer) load the couch in the van...

Boxes, bags, and endless paperwork

Time for another of my sporadic, cathartic blog posts.

The saga continues.

I'm not entirely sure why I thought it would be easy. Nothing ever is, it seems. After a year and a half of searching, we found the place. After waiting two months, the bid was accepted. After completing a mountain of paperwork- and faxing it 3 times- we still have no idea what's going on. The latest exchange:

Carla: Just wanted to clarify that we are closing on the 30th.

Banker: Let me check. I'll get back to you later. Or sooner.

A day passes.

Carla: We're trying to make arrangements, just checking in about the closing.

Banker: We need the declaration page from your insurance. You can use the close date as your effective date. I think you told me the 30th.

Wait, you are asking me? I thought I was asking you...

Carla emailing insurance: We need the declaration page, yadda yadda yadda.

Insurance: no response.

Carla calling insurance: This is Carla...

Insurance: Oh, yes, I saw the email from you, but our computers are down and we can't access anything right now. Where can I call you?

Carla: gives number

Insurance:

That's right. Still waiting for that phone call.

So who is the person who actually knows what's going on and how do I reach said person? Meanwhile, half my belongings are packed up in boxes. And the bags of hand-me-down baby clothes are piling up. I think it'd be nice to get the stack of paperwork for the house filed away before the stack of paperwork for the hospital/baby/birth begins to accumulate...But that's probably wishful thinking.

Pregnant Ramblings

Today's rambling is a list of things I may never want again (or at least won't want for a very long time) post-pregnancy:

~Crackers (of any brand, flavor, variety, etc.)

~Pretzels (not even the cute goldfishy pretzels)

~Sprite (or Sprite-like beverages)

~Toast

~Rice

~Red Gatorade

~Flintstones vitamins

Things I hope to someday want again:

~Food (in general)

~Beverages not listed above

~Chocolate (yes, it gets it's own special listing)

~To get off the couch and actually do something besides lay around

I'm sure the lists (particularly the former) will grow as rapidly as my belly.

I am attempting to keep my sense of humor throughout this experiment, I mean, experience. Though, I must admit, it is proving a little harder to do than I anticipated. Sure, I heard the horror stories, but it wasn't going to be like that for me. And I am thankful that all I've had to deal with is my appetite fleeing to some undisclosed location; morning sickness stopping by for a few days at a time, leaving, and returning again uninvited and unannounced; and a little dehydration problem. I know it could be much worse. MUCH worse. But that knowledge doesn't make mornings any easier. I am trying to be part of the optimistic (or deluded) camp that believes it will "get better any day now," but it goes against my nature to be so positive. I am, after all, the "happiest pessimist" you'll ever meet, right Katy? I wonder if I should take Mini Morris' early tendency to induce havoc as an omen....

Multi-Book Review #2

Apparently I am better at reading than blogging. Here's another two book recommendations for you:

1) Blood Test by Jonathan Kellerman. This is one of the Alex Delaware series. I've enjoyed a good mystery for as long as I can remember. Throw in a psychologist as the main character and you pretty much have a genre that can't miss with me. I believe this is book two in the series- I have decided it's time to read them in order...up next- When the Bough Breaks, book number 1.

2) Fast Women by Jennifer Crusie. This was a mystery/romance that took place right here in Columbus. The mystery part was pretty good. The romance- well it's not really my thing- and was a little predictable. Nevertheless, it gets a 6 out of 8 on the completely random rating scale.

Multi-book Review

So I've been doing quite a bit of reading lately. I've found it takes my mind off how I've been feeling.

First I finished "The Seeking Heart" by Fenelon. I've previously mentioned working my way through this book. I found some good tidbits of inspiration within the covers.

Then I began working my way through "The House of Night" series. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about these, I mean, I less than loved "Twilight" much to the dismay of the entire female population of the United States. But I was intrigued as I made my way through "Marked," "Betrayed," "Chosen," "Untamed," and "Hunted." Currently about halfway through book 6 "Tempted" and my interest is waning a bit. However, never before have a read an entire series straight through without other novels sprinkled throughout. Maybe I just need a break from Aphrodite's snarky comments, Zoey's boy troubles, and Stevie Rae's inability to share a deep dark secret with her BFF. Too much time immersed in teenage drama is bound to get to anyone...right?

Storms, Cats, Dreams, and Naps

It seems there have been a rash of storms lately. While I don't underestimate the destructive power of these storms, I still find something inherently majestic about them. Oh, I've seen the heartbreaking pictures of the devastation left behind. And I do mean heartbreaking. I think it's similar to how I feel about the ocean. There's nothing I love more than sitting on the beach in the sun, smelling the salty air and watching and hearing the waves crash against the sand. But put me IN the ocean and I get a little nervous if the water's anything but calm. Anyway, another storm was rolling through last night as I was crawling into bed. I listened to the rumbling for a bit and then let the sound of the rain lull me into the best sleep I've had in two weeks. Honestly, I didn't wake up until 4am. I completely skipped my 1am bathroom break.

Unfortunately the storms calming effect only worked on me and not the other creatures in the house. I got the 5:30 "Hey, just wanted to remind you that you need to get up in 1/2 an hour to feed us" wake up call from one of the cats. Like I've ever forgotten to feed them. And after I did feed them, they were tearing around the place like mad men, er mad cats. There's the usual running around and pouncing on one another, but this was extreme! At one point, I heard strange claws-on-drywall noises and yelled at them to quit fighting only to realize Jynx was standing in the hall nowhere near where the noises originated. I stood to go peer into the room, but before I could discover what Fritz was up to, he took off out of the room and down the stairs faster than if he'd been shot out of a canon. And let's not forget the trip down to the laundry room (here's a tip, if you ever do laundry at my place, be sure to turn on the basement light- that way you can see which direction the black ball of fur will be coming from when he launches himself at your legs as you leave the laundry room). Cats running up and down the stairs- crawling through the stairs overhead (remember, and open staircase is the best cat toy ever!).

Maybe their antics contributed to the weirdness of my dream...Now, I admit, I've always had entertaining dreams. It's like a little movie playing in my head while I sleep, complete with color, sound, and occasionally smell. But this one seemed unusual even for me. I got drafted by a high school friend and a college friend (who to my knowledge have never met) to be part of this musical production that was- surprise!- performing that very night! So here I was playing the silent lead female role in this odd show. There was no plot! There were no consistent characters! The songs didn't make sense! The costumes were literally impossible to wear! There was something about a train that looked like it should be in the game Candyland. We opened the production with the National Anthem, of course. And other than the fact that I had to miss a class to be in the performance I couldn't tell you much more about it. But if this is what pregnancy does to my dreams- I'll be able to write a book about my nocturnal visions!

After the manic episodes experienced by my cats and the puzzling over the oddity of my early morning dream, I was ready for a nap.

Mini Muffin

The cat's out of the bag.

There's no way to write this keeping the dramatic moment for the end (not that anyone will be surprised at this point), so I'll just come out and say it- I'm pregnant. (Even though I've had time to get used to the idea it's still weird to say, er, type that!) It's been a long, bumpy road to get here. It started in January of 2009. Well, I guess really it started before then. When we got married, I didn't want to talk about it (I know, I know I always said I'd never get married and I wasn't having kids. Things change. We all knew I was lying anyway). So we made a deal. I'd finish grad school and then we'd discuss it. Well, in January of 2009- my graduation was looming mere months away. It seemed like a good time to casually start trying. Six months later, when my internship was dragging on and the job market not looking promising, we called it quits. Temporarily. I admit, I cried for two days...Meanwhile, it seemed the whole world was having babies.

Fast forward more than a year

. Things are looking up for us. The timing is good. Oh- job change, that's a nice monkey wrench. Well, let's go for it anyway. Months go by and nothing happens. I'm keeping track of everything (and I do mean everything, I think I even recorded every time I sneezed!) on my handy dandy little chart, it's really not as much fun as it sounds like.

I make the call, but I can't bring myself to use the "i" word. Dr. R (not her real name) says "Well, this is no problem, but I don't like what you told me about that. You should come in and have bloodwork done." At least I got the heads up- I really don't do well when they spring the needles on me. Results: "Your progesterone was low and your thyroid was abnormal. Let's repeat the test." Sigh. "Your progesterone was normal this time, no problem there. But your thyroid level was still abnormal. And it could be contributing to infertility." There it was. The "i" word. Next step: schedule an appointment with my primary care physician to discuss said abnormality of the thyroid. Dr. U (not his real name) is, of course, on vacation...

5 weeks: I'm not entirely sure why I felt I needed to take a test that day, but something inside me said, "Why not? Just get the no and move on." Only it wasn't a no. Wait, how did this happen? I wasn't prepared for this! In hushed voices (we had family crashing at our place- but that's another story entirely) the huz and I discussed it briefly before work. Our conversation went something like this:

"Is it for real?"

"I guess so"

"Can there be false positives?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Do you have any more tests?"

"No, I guess I'll stop on my way home and pick one up."

"Or a couple...Maybe it's an April Fool's joke. You know, it just gets wet and comes back positive."

"Do they make those?"

"I don't know."

Oh, did I forget to mention, it was April Fool's Day? Jynx congratulated us right away- by barfing on the carpet (Fritz was too busy cowering under the bed, hiding from the house guests to even be concerned with what else was happening.)

Good news! Looks like the offer on the house was accepted and we're moving forward. No, this isn't an April Fool's joke!

Wait, what? It's been a month and today of all days is the day we finally hear something?!

Test 2 comes back positive that night. And yet we still don't quite believe it. Five days pass. Ok, test 3. Positive. It must be for real. Guess I should call the doctor...

The huz asks:

"When can we tell people?"

"I'd like to wait, it's really early and I don't know what this whole thyroid thing means."

Two days later:

"So, I might have told my brother..."

"I might have told my supervisor- she wanted to move furniture..."

6 weeks: Dr. U tells me that the results from Dr. R's office indicate borderline hypothyroidism. He'd like to retest before making any decisions about medication. The next day Dr. U calls- "I've got your results back and I'm going to go ahead and get you started on medication. I'll fax the prescription to the pharmacy. I want to see you for a follow up appointment in 6 weeks." That's not what I wanted to hear. The doctor had assured me it was perfectly safe for the baby- I just hate the idea of taking medication. Any medication. Period.

Just ask the huz:

"I have a headache."

"Did you take anything for it?"

"No."

*Huz rolls eyes*

Pop the first pill. Guess I'm a druggie now...Off to Dr. R's office for my first appointment. "Everything looks good. Here is some information for you about what to expect for your upcoming appointments. I'll send the nurse in to draw your blood. And we'll see you back in about four weeks for your first ultrasound." Geez! I really am starting to feel like a pincushion...

"I feel funny."

"Funny how?"

"I don't know. Just funny. I'm sure it's normal."

"So when can we tell people?"

"After the ultrasound?"

"Sigh."

7 weeks: Wow. There it is. I wondered when you'd show up. Morning sickness. Yep. I feel awful. Let's hope this doesn't actually happen every day and this is just a fluke...

Nope. Not a fluke. How many more weeks until I feel better?

9 weeks: Feeling ever so slightly better. Actually managed to eat a whole meal at one sitting.

10 weeks: Mother's Day. The huz surprised me with flowers and a card. Stupid hormones making me cry. I didn't consider this to be my first mother's day, but he thought it counted. Started telling the family today- and news travels fast...

First ultrasound. A little nervous- not sure what to expect/think/feel. The huz keeps me giggling. Doc arrives in the freezing little room. Those papery sheets don't provide much warmth. There it is! Look! It's all wiggly!

Doc says "I only see one." (Sorry huz, maybe next time you'll get your twins.) "Heartbeat is nice and strong. Everything looks good."

*Sigh of relief*

Geez! Word really does travel fast! Is there anyone who doesn't know?

Let the nicknames begin. Peanut. Bean. Blob. Tadpole. Prune. Tory Walker. Tater Tot. Mini Muffin.

This kid is doomed!