Your Arrival - Cliff's Notes Version

We had moved to our house weeks before.

It was March 5.

Your dad left for the weekend. I realized, "This is my first night alone in this house." I moved the baseball bat under my side of the bed. I wished there were a baseball bat capable of debilitating ghosts. I went to sleep.

It was March 6.

At 1 a.m., I got back into bed after using the bathroom. My water broke. I called your dad, and he started driving home immediately. I rode with his parents to the hospital. The nurse wouldn't let me eat. I bargained with her to get some apple slices and graham crackers.

At 9 a.m., the doctor threatened to give me medicine if I didn't start contracting more. I bargained with her to get an extra hour of trying without meds. Then I speed-walked my pregnant belly up and down the hospital hallways until 10 a.m.

At 10 a.m., they gave me medicine and made me lay in bed. Labor started hurting, which was good.

At 7 p.m., I had spent the last 9 hours trying not to be pregnant anymore. It was hard to keep trying, and hard to stay conscious. The doctor wanted to give me an epidural. I bargained with her to give me an anti-anxiety medicine to remove the edge. Two seconds after they gave me the drug, I was ready to push. I mean, you were ready to be pushed. I'm still not sure which way that works. All I know is I felt like I had to poop your head out.

At 8:57 p.m., I heard you cry. They put your purple, slimy body in my arms. I recognized your face from my last ultrasound.

It felt like we had just run a marathon together and meeting each other was the prize.


Hello, Buster!!!!!

Every Move You Make

Dear Buster,

What the aitch are you doing in there?

I'm not complaining; I think it's cool. Your dad and I watch you before turning the lights out at bedtime, and you make my bump look like a giant pink jello jiggler. Now you're big enough for me to feel you punching several areas of my guts at once, and it seems if I could just have more nerve endings in my organs I'd be able to pinpoint exactly which dance moves you're learning in there.

Now I know what makes you different from every other living thing God made: you're the person who broke-in my uterus like a pair of new shoes that needed a beating.

We better pick an awesome name for you.

Love,
Mom

Necessity is a Mother

I'm sick and I'm tired and I'm pregnant. But that didn't stop me from creating a new word just now. You heard it here first, folks:



Frumpterble.

Say it out loud; it'll make sense.

Did I Mention Hello?

Buster, you're the best baby in the whole world.

You cooperated to reveal your gender to your dad and I - thanks for that, little bump!

Then, you chose the last night of our babymoon to kick hard enough for your pop to feel it. So awesome of you to share yourself with him, so much earlier than average.

I think we're going to like you.

Gas Baby

I've pretty much already told everyone who reads this blog, but just for the record, my doctor informs me that these bumps -






- were more bloat than baby. That's right: all these weeks I've been showcasing my gastrointestinal discomfort. Awesome.

When I have a photo of my now legit baby bump, I'll post it and we can just forget any of this ever happened, mmkay?

America's Next Top Vegetable Dish

YUMMMMmmmmm! Another veggie winner, and this one will receive a photo shoot in Marie Claire magazine and a lifetime supply of Tyra mail!


Argentine Lentil Soup is Delicious

Start with this recipe.

Follow it. Don't make any changes unless you don't like barbecue sauce much - then you can half the sauce and increase the garlic for the successful floating of your boat.

It's super easy, and for once actually took less time to make than the recipe called for. I think you could skip peeling the tomatoes and the apples if you wanted, and just food process the mutha uckas (they're gonna wake up in a smoothie) to make it even easier.

For my tree-hugging, bambi-loving baby, anything that starts out looking this good - revert to Ms. Banks' attempt at a French accent - ain't competing for no second place, y'all:





Update: Holy frick! They made my photo the main recipe picture! I feel famous. Reality doesn't matter and feelings are all that count.

Recap

Sept. 27 - Fifteen weeks: Two grocery store workers, independently of one another, asked me if I needed assistance taking my groceries to the car. I didn't, but it still made me happy as I (fake) waddled out of the store with a little more gusto.

Sept. 28 - Buster made his presence felt, literally.

Oct. 1 - Some food sounded good to me.

Oct. 2 - Sixteen weeks: My mom put her hand on my stomach out of that overpowering impulse to touch a visibly pregnant belly.

Oct. 4 - Without thinking about it, I started taking the stairs at home two at a time like I used to before Buster.

This second trimester deal is starting to get awesome.

Liking Food Again

It's so nice to feel hungry for food sometimes; it just helps make life seem more like a good idea.

As a gestational diabetic vegetarian, my stomach continues to reject anything that used to walk, swim, or wallow in a tiny cage its whole life eating hormones. I'm okay with this. I feel healthier and more conscientious, all without the disciplined restraint that normally makes vegetarianism inconvenient.

The combination of a growing appetite with a desire to try new meatless foods means I'm finally back in the kitchen, experimenting the pants off a can of beans.

Today's venture turned out YUMMY so I'll share it with you. So you can give me a bite of yours when you make it for your lunch.



Butter Bean Burgers are Delicious

Start with this recipe.

Substitute the following:
- 1 (4 oz) can green chilis for jalepeno
- 1/2 cup bread crumbs for crackers
- 1 clove minced garlic for garlic powder
- 1/4 cup (or less) grapeseed oil for vegetable oil

Follow the directions, but when you get to the part with the bread crumbs, only mix 1/4 cup of them into the bowl. Once you've shaped the patties, dredge them in the remaining bread crumbs. This gives them a crispy outside and magical powers.

After trying the patties fried like the recipe called for, I would sauté them next time, using less oil. Healthier. Although fried is quite delicious.

If yours are like mine, they'll fall apart when you try to flip them and you'll have to perform acrobatics using two spatulas. But once they're out of the pan just reshape them and they'll still look like they do in the recipe photo. I hear it helps to chill them in the fridge for 30 minutes before cooking if you have time.

So easy you can leave the room and they'll start flipping themselves don't try this. They taste like holy heaven on a potato bun with a slice of avocado.

Buster is Such a Baby

Last night I distinctly felt Buster move in my belly when I settled in bed. !! So odd and wonderful.

I told E, who immediately jumped up, put his hand on my stomach and asked, hopefully, "Can I feel it, too?" Then he tilted his head like he was trying to hear our baby swimming laps through the womb water.

"No, Buster's too small still," I let him down gently.

He thought for a second. Then, as he flopped onto his other side with his back facing me, he declared, "You never share Buster with me."

E knows how to make me smile.

And it's true. So far, all physical symptoms related to this growing baby are mine alone to experience. For a brief moment in time, I get to be the only one whose every waking moment is shared with Buster. I'm learning to be patient and appreciate these days when our wiggly bean lizard proves to me personally that s/he's a baby.

And judging from the amount of jumping and flopping apparently going on en utero, Buster is such a friggin' baby.

You Ain't Got No Alibi

Proof that I am in actuality not That Mom:

I can willingly acknowledge that in our latest ultrasound pictures, Buster looks like a monkey lizard.

Face shot!


Amazing, yes. Incredible, yes. Adorable, no.

When our baby is the cutest creature in the universe, I will be the first to admit it. Until that day, I will love Buster with the ferocity of a monkey lizard mother.


Update - E says it's hard to tell what's what on the photo, so maybe this will help:

And by help I mean not help Buster's self-esteem right now.

Thankful for Symptoms Nobody Has

In an effort to think positively, I'm considering some of the horrible symptoms of pregnancy that don't exist.

1. Instead of just feeling and seeing babies move in utero, what if you could hear them? So you're sitting there in church while everbody's contemplating communion in silence, and suddenly your uterus starts growling. Except, because it's bigger than your stomach it sounds like Louis Armstrong.

2. Pregnancy could make your ears hairy, but it doesn't.

That's as far as I've gotten on my list, but it gets me through my toilet-hugging day. Feel free to add more for me to hold onto.

A Play in Three Acts

---

Wife #1: My husband could tell you were pregnant before you announced it. He saw you singing on stage and said, "She's pregnant. I can tell because her face is glowing."

Me: That's cool.

Husband #1: I could tell because your boobs are bigger.

---

Wife #2: My husband could tell you were pregnant weeks ago. He said it was because you were smiling so much.

Me: Nice!

Husband #2: It was because your face is fatter.

---

Wife #3: My husba-

Me: Bug off.

Mombots

It baffles me how few women are willing to be vulnerable about parenthood. I don't understand why this subject more than any other brings out The Teacher in people.

If I say, "I'm concerned about the financial health of our economy and how it will effect our personal finances," or, "I eat way too much junk food and wish I could be more disciplined," ladies will nod in agreement and sympathize.

But when I share my unease about raising a child in a dangerous world, suddenly everyone's an expert - even the childless. The closest thing to empathy in the resulting lecture is, "Everybody worries," but that's followed by, "You've just got to..."

I honestly don't get it. Why do you think we're like this?

Thanks?

Dear Buster,

Who knew I could help ease a sleepless, nauseous night by visualizing something wiggling around in my abdominal cavity? You're like my all-in-one indigestion and Tums.

Sincerely,
Your Mother,
i.e., the walking pregnancy hormone.

I am That Mom

The most complimentary thought I ever had about ultrasound pictures was, "That's interesting." I never wanted to pick up the little jelly bean pictured and hold it to my cheek and squeeeeeeze it.

Which is why I'm convinced our baby is the cutest creature God has ever made. How else could a weird-looking ultrasound make me want to hug the world for being such a great place? Just LOOK at the adorableness:



Now imagine those little paddle hands and feet waving around like, "I'm swimming, mama! Check me out! I'm a big kid!" This is what we could have watched all day on the little monitor.

My Lovely Lady Bump

It's there. See?



But now I know better than to mention I have one in front of church moms. Wednesday night they laughed in my face and belittled my bump WHICH EXISTS by comparing it to their own widening waistlines. I wasn't calling you fat, church moms.

Can't our bumps and lumps all just get along?

Grandma Gift