Monte

My weekend has been a whirlwind. I'm going to share it with you.

Friday morning I woke up sick. So sick that I threw up twice before I could even leave the house. When does this nausea end? I am at 9+3 today and I am really ready for it to be over. I got in my car to drive to work and didn't make it more than a quarter of a mile before I had to pull over and puke. In my car. In a bag. It was one of those moments where you can't believe it's happening to you, so you just...go with it. The rest of my day at work was pretty uneventful and I was happily finishing up some paperwork right around 4:00 when I got a call from my husband.

My husband always sounds sure of himself. This time, he didn't. "Um, I think you need to come home. Now. Something is wrong with Monte."

Monte is our 9-year-old German Shepherd that we've had since he was a puppy. Time stilled as he told me that our housekeeper had called to say that Monte was acting tired and "weird" all day. When my husband got home, he noticed he was acting disoriented. Within a short period of time, my husband noticed that Monte's eyes had filled with blood and seemed to be bulging. Yes, bulging with blood. My husband tried to be calm as he told me that Monte didn't seem to be able to see. Anything.

I got in the car and drove home, cursing the fact that I work so far from home. Meanwhile, I helped my husband to find the closest vet to our house and told him I'd meet him there. The whole time I was just praying that I would make it in time to say goodbye to Monte. I was sure that this was it. That we would be saying goodbye to him that day.

Long story short, the vet spent over two hours running tests on him, only to tell us that she had no idea what was wrong with him. She said that he is apparently in amazingly good health for his age, with the exception of the fact that he was suffering from "acute blindness." The vet was caring, kind, and thorough, but sent us home with no knowledge, plan, or diagnosis. We scheduled another appointment for the following morning.

That night, I saw my husband cry. This is something I have only witnessed maybe four times in our 13 years together. I was shocked and touched. I held him and tried to reassure him, but really, what can't you say? I realized that for me, having Monte home with us was a gift. I hadn't expected to have him with us anymore. But for my husband, he was shocked that this could have happened and couldn't stop imagining Monte's fear and confusion and the fact that there was nothing we could do for him.

Since then, it's gotten better. I mean, Monte is the same. Still can't see a thing, but he is calmer, and thinking things through, and no longer running around in a panic and smacking his head on everything (really, REALLY hard to watch). We took control and started going back to Obedience School basics, perfecting the perfect "Heel" right against our thighs and teaching him "Wait," "Right" and "Left." Our dog is so freaking smart. What dog can start to learn to turn left and right just based on voice commands within a two day span?? I am so proud of him and the training seems to be giving him a sense of control and decreasing his fear. But oh god, it is so heartbreaking to see him sitting at alert, listening as hard as he can for our next command, and staring blindly at nothing.

We have spent the entire weekend with him. I've been feeling sick off and on, which just adds to the grey, apathetic state that was induced by the sadness about Monte and the claustrophobia of staying home all weekend long. I know it's what I needed to do for myself and for my dog (and for my husband), but I have such a hard time sitting at home and doing nothing. It just makes me less productive, which then makes me feel more guilty and depressed. Yuck. What a cycle.

Today was Easter. Our last Easter without kids (knock on wood). We spent it laying around the house, curtains drawn, in grey semi-darkness. At the end of the day, we ventured out to go grocery shopping. On the way, I suddenly had a craving for a steak (really??) and mashed potatoes. On a whim, we pulled into a restaurant. We completely forgot it was Easter. We showed up to their Easter Buffet, 45 minutes before they closed for the night, and walked in dressed in our sweatshirts, jeans, and flip flops. Happy families in Easter outfits filled the room. How bizarre. Also, eating off of a buffet when pregnant is bizarre. Taste this - reject it. Taste that - go back for more. Taste this - almost gag out loud. So bizarre.

When we got home from dinner and grocery shopping, we were eager to see how Monte had done on his first time alone with his blindness. He was waiting at the back door, tail wagging, looking alert, happy and proud of himself. It warmed me so much to see that, as I've been worrying all weekend what will happen when we go back to work on Monday. (Luckily, our housekeeper comes and will take care of him for a few hours and my husband will probably come home at lunch to be with him).

And now it's Sunday night, my least favorite night of the week. I'm thinking of all of the things I left undone at work on Friday when I rushed out, which will make my Monday even harder, but mostly, I'm feeling relieved that we have Monte with us and that he was smiling at us when we came in the door tonight.

Monte, resting his eyes after the traumatic trip to the Vet

Pregnant-Me to the Rescue!!

I have a crazy landlord. She is a Russian lady with bleached white hair who has an unhealthily close relationship with her mother and an obsessive drive to make everyone else crazy. She LOVES the house she rented to us, as it used to be hers and now she does not know how to relinquish it and just let us live here. We pay her a ridiculous amount of money to rent this two bedroom house plus garage and with it we get a beautiful home and her craziness (past episodes include phone calls that she believes the gardener is “stealing her roses” and anxiety that our dog may be hurting her flowers so we shouldn’t let him outside unsupervised anymore).

When I was un-pregnant me, the deal was that I always deal with her. My husband upsets her because she feels he is not tip-toeing around her and praising her craziness enough. So, I dealt with her. Dealt with her just as I would deal with my clients. A person with a personality disorder. Calm, steady, understanding, but firm. It works pretty well.

Two weeks ago I get this phone call from her:
Her: I need to put my refrigerator in your garage.
Me: What?
Her: My refrigerator. I have nowhere to put it. I need to put it back in the garage. You remember? It was there when you moved in?
Me: I remember it was there, we asked if we could use it, you said yes, and then you took it away from us.
Her: Yes, that one.
Me: Well, we’ve already bought another small fridge for the office in the garage and there is no space for your refrigerator anymore.
Her: Oh it is no big deal, we will just put it back where it was before.
Me: Um, I really don’t think there is space?
Her: Yes there is, I’m bringing it over.

So I hang up. Fuming. Who does she think she is? She can’t just put her shit in our garage? What the hell? But, I kept it together, chose my battles, and decided to let her put her damn refrigerator in the garage. Then I forgot all about it.

Until today. My last client of the day cancelled and I had an opportunity to duck out early at 4:30. After a killer 12-hour day yesterday that left me passed out and crying in bed when I got home at 9:00pm, I took the chance and ran home. As soon as I walked in the door, I put on my pjs, opened up Netflix, and settled in to relax.

And then I hear it. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. On the back door. Shit. I instantly knew what it was. I go to the door, composing my face in an expression on innocent concern and readiness-to-help her and she says ”Why is your car in the garage?? I need to put my refrigerator in your garage! Why is your car there???”

So, I stay calm, pitter-patter out in my PJs to move the car. Meanwhile (as I’m moving the damn car), she starts up, ”But why did you not clear a space for my refrigerator? I asked you to clear a space. This is its space. Right here. You have boxes and cabinets and electronics and where am I supposed to put the refrigerator?”

So, here I am, trying to move my car out of our alleyway, while a man in a BMW honks at me and she stands in the garage berating me, and suddenly, I am no longer therapist-me, I am PREGNANT ME. Aka, SUPER HERO WOMAN who does not give a shit about upsetting my crazy landlord. So I shout, ”Just let me park my car!!!” She shut up.

PREGNANT ME TO THE RESCUE!!!

I park the car, storm into the garage in my pink plaid flannel pants and say, ”You know what? We paid for this garage. We rent it to put our things in, including MY CAR. You decided to take away the refrigerator and now you want to put it back once we have already moved in and lived here for a year? You can’t just do that to us.”

She says in a shocked voice, ”But this refrigerator belongs in this garage. Where else am I supposed to put it? What am I supposed to do with it?”

Me, channeling PREGNANT ME, ”I don’t care what you do with it.”

Her, gesturing at the “refrigerator space,” “But you have all of this stuff here, where am I supposed to put it?

I looked at the space and said, ”We live here. We pay for this space. You can’t just put things in this space. It’s like if you suddenly want to put your couch in our house. You can’t do it.”

She won’t back down. ”But I told you I was bringing it back. The movers are here….” She gestures toward three men and a moving truck. The men look like they want to gauge their own eyes out and send me apologetic looks.

So I gesture to a spot against the wall. “Fine. But the refrigerator there.”

She mumbles to herself, ”But that is not its ‘spot.’”

I looked at the movers, still not looking at her, and said ”If you need me, I will be inside my house.”

They are still out there. So far, not a peep. I guess she “won” since the damn refrigerator will end up in our damn garage. But I stood up to her, told her what I thought, and didn’t give a damn. What’s the worst she can do? Evict us?? Please do. I want out of this two-year lease in a two-bedroom home (when we really need three) for much more than we should be paying her. Whew. Deep breath. Thanks, PREGNANT ME. It’s fun to be a super hero.

Oh, and the best part is? Before she went all psycho crazy, she says, ”Oh sweetie, did you notice? Someone left a pacifier on your front gate. That means you are going to have a baby!”

Posting with a Pregnant Brain

I had a few moments today where I thought I was coming out of my pregnancy fog. Literally, moments. As in, "huh. Am I.....Oh no, nope." But, I definitely was less sick today. So that helped. A lot.

So given the fact that I'm still clouded and gray, I'm just going to give you a quick post, direct from my first trimester brain.

First of all, I was going to google "First Trimester Brain" and post a funny picture of what Google Images spit back out at me. Instead, I got a lot of pictures of little fetus brains. I looked around a bit, contemplated doing a better google search, and then said, "huh. oh well."

I read a beautiful and amazing book. I read it in about two days. Which is impressive because I can't believe it held my attention that long. The book, The Language of Flowers, was lent to me by a friend who thought I'd like it because of the girl grows up in a group home and I used to work in one and now I'm a child therapist and.....and anyway, i did like it for those reasons. But mostly, I loved it because it was a book about motherhood. Finding a mother, wanting a mother, becoming a mother...Of course, I cried.

"The idea filled me with equal parts terror and joy." (on being a mother)


In the book, every flower has a meaning. Moss is Maternal Love, because it is "spontaneous, imperfect and without roots." Anyhow, read it. It's good. I promise.

Similarly, although not as literary, I watched the movie Knocked Up for the first time ever last night. I was home alone (my brilliantly successful husband is on a business trip to Seattle trying to make a deal with a very famous not-to-be-disclosed company), laying on the coach with an enormous bowl of mac'n'cheese from a box, crying over Knocked Up. Yep, really. Want to know what made me cry? The clip where they show her vagina, splitting in half, with a head stretching its way through. Yep. Really. My heart started racing and I thought, Oh shit, that amazing, frightening, terrifying, very real thing is going to happen to ME and there is no going back now. And so I laughed and cried and giggled and wished for a glass of wine.



By the way, can you BELIEVE I've never seen that movie before? It was a little cosmic when she started puking in her first trimester while I tried to eat my mac'n'cheese. Yeah.

Do you get what it's like to be inside my brain yet? Next week I have a meeting with my boss about my future goals with the company. Wow. First of all, I am less than enthused with my job right now. My coworkers are not friendly, my boss is checked out, and I work too hard. Oh, and I'm pregnant. The ironic thing is, I wish I could just tell her. Then we could have an honest conversation. But...you know....rules...first trimester and all. Who knows.

I'm not sure I should hit "Post" on this post. Do you guys think I'm crazy yet?? Anyhow, this is me. Take it or leave it.

Sequel: Proof of my Personality Change

Hey, look at me, two posts in one day. Better appreciate it because it might be another week before you get another. I'm writing another post for two reasons. One, after I posted my previous post about my changed personality (aka lack of common courtesy in friendly interactions), my husband and I had the following conversation:

Me: "Do you realize for the first time in months we have absolutely nothing planned for our weekends for at least the next, month or so?"
Him: "Great, but you know, I have been wanting to do a trip to Disneyland with W & M before they move away..."
Me: "There is no way I'm going to Disneyland. The way I've been feeling I won't make it 20 minutes there before I pass out or puke. Also, I can't go on any rides at all, so I'd just be sitting by myself all day. Yeah. There is no way in hell I'm going to Disneyland."
Him: *Silence*
Me: "But you guys are welcome to go without me. I could care less if you guys go without me, because I really, honestly do NOT want to go to Disneyland."
Him: "So, uh, you're telling me you're not interested in going to Disneyland?"

After we laughed about my apparently strong aversion to the Happiest Place on Earth, my husband said, in an awed-philosophical-tone, "I can't wait to see what it's like when you turn back into yourself. It's like you really don't care what you say. And it's weird, because you are so NOT a rude person." Yep, thanks hon, you hit the nail on the head. It's like I could care less about pleasantries. Oh, and I hate Mickey Mouse (apparently).

But this little funny exchange isn't the only reason you are so lucky as to receive two posts in one day. I also wanted to post pictures of me at 7w3d. You can't really see anything yet (obviously), besides a little pasta-baby, but I wanted to start a progression and also, more importantly, wanted to remind my readers that, if my last post sounded a bit dreary, it is freaking cool to be pregnant.

>

Cocooned

It has now been exactly a month since I found out I was pregnant. How do I describe these first few weeks to you? For sure, it was not what I had expected. Not what the movies or your childhood ideas would led you to believe. For me, there have been very few moments of reveling in amazement over what is happening to my body, or crying in my husband's arms in happiness, or smiling a secret smile a'la an Italian madonna in a portrait. No, instead I have become more withdrawn, more disconnected from the world. Now I don't want you to take this in the wrong way, so let me try to describe it.... I feel as if I have become insulated from the world, in a little cocoon of my own. Looking out through a fog. I am hyperaware of my body in a way I have never before been. I can feel my energy drawn to physical work. As if my body (and mind) has ceased to care about anything else except the job in front of it. Eating? Meh. Who cares. Sex? Not interested. And it's not only my physical sensations, but my emotional and intellectual energy. At work, I am less efficient, less organized, less....awake. I am also less connected to the feelings and stories of my clients, as if I am wrapped in a gossamer fog that separates me from everyone else. When I talk to my friend, my husband, even a person in a random encounter at a store, I find myself putting less energy into the interaction. Not that I don't care (although at it almost feels that way), but that I can't be bothered to give of myself to this moment. I am too inside of myself.

Basically, pregnancy is making me selfish. I have never been a very selfish person. Instead, I worry and care too much. I don't like to upset people. I want to be polite and say the right thing. Now? Who gives a fuck. I am willing to put me (us) first. Hmmm. No, let me rewrite that. It's not so much a volitional act as much as, I can't dredge up the energy to have the empathy I am accustomed to feeling. I still care about other people and other things, but the ability to truly empathize seems to be lost somewhere in the core of my stomach.

It's funny because, in a way, it's strangely liberating for me. For someone who puts too much emphasis on saying the right thing and keeping up with friendships and doing a good job and...and...and... It feels a bit of a relief to just let things slide a bit. To just, focus inwardly on the physical being of me.

But I can feel me buried somewhere deep inside fighting back with a tiny voice saying things like, Why are you saying that? Why didn't you say this? You should care more. So I know I am still there. I know that girl is watching and rolling her eyes when I don't make polite chitchat with the lady at the grocery store and she is groaning in exasperation when I made a sharp comment to my poor husband, but I just tell her, Wait. Right now I can't be bothered. Later I will come back to myself.

And I hope that is true. I hope once I am done with this land of foggy nausea and disconnection I will come back to myself. Until then, I will keep muddling through, wrapped in my cocoon, doing what I need to do to get through this first trimester and starting being a human again.

Saying Hello

So I realized I haven't posted since our first ultrasound last week. In fact, I've been totally silent. You may have wondered, what happened to that nice girl that used to update us and comment on my blog posts? Where did she go? Well, partly, I went camping for the weekend, so you know, no Internet. But also, I kind of retreated into this weird, silent place of anxiety. You see, I left my first OB appointment with a tiny niggling feeling of "unsettled and uncertain." But no real anxiety. In fact, when the doctor tried to reassure me, I reassured HER. "No, really, I'm fine...it's so early...I didn't expect to see anything..." Calm, suave, together.

So what happened? Well, two things. First, I started thinking: Hmmm. You know, I have to reschedule all of my clients just to go back next week. What if it's still too early and there's no heartbeat still? And then I have to reschedule all of my clients again? Hmm. What a hassle. See? Still naively calm. So I called the doctor's office.

Me: Hi, I was wondering if I could push my appointment back a week...*launching into long-winded rationale*
Receptionist: Um. What did the doctor say? Did she say she wanted to see you in one week? *insert ominous tone*
Me: *gulp* Yes.
Her: Well, if she said one week, you need to come back in one week.

Huh. I thought this was rather strict, so off I go to Google. Oops. There I learn that the reason for the One Week rule is that, if a doctor doesn't see what she expects to see, she will reschedule an appointment in One Week to determine if the pregnancy is well...you know, going to happen or not. Fuck. That is when I got quiet, withdrawn, and silently panicking. I spent the whole camping weekend feeling tired, cut off from others, and nauseous. Which yes, I know nausea is a good thing, but still. I was just, cocooned in all of these pregnancy symptoms and worry.

Fastforward to this morning. One Week later - the day of my appointment. I wake up at 4 am, with deep dark pit of sickness in my stomach (baby sickness, not anxiety sickness). I eat exactly two Stoned Wheat Thins (which felt like ingesting two pieces of pressed particle board) and went back to sleep. Three hours later I was dry heaving over the toilet and pitying myself. Then, I somehow made it through approximately four hours of work, before ducking out secret-agent-style to my ultrasound appointment.

Met my husband in the parking lot and off we went. In the exam room (which was much improved by the new oven mitts - actual blue oven mitts - on the stirrups), I forced my husband to tell me all about his day, his business meetings, the color of his socks, WHATEVER, just to take my mind off what was about to happen.

In she came, complimenting me on my hair and apologizing again for making us wait. She said she had just found out one of her patients was having twins and needed to help the woman process and get all excited. Cool. Meanwhile, I was flushed red with anxiety. She took pity on me and stuck the ultrasound wand up inside me faster than a scene in a porno and then BOOM.
We saw this:

Later my husband said my lip started trembling with relief. What is that? My lip also trembled when I saw the positive pregnancy test. I am like some bumbling cartoon character. Annnnyhow, we officially have an egg sac and a little tiny baby peanut AND a heartbeat!! Seriously.

The funny thing is, neither my husband or I "saw" the heartbeat right away. I don't know what we were looking for, but I just thought the flickering was poor picture quality or something, so after she was done measuring, adjusting my due date and everything, I piped up with, "Umm, so you saw the heartbeat?" And she shrieks back, laughing, Girl!! You didn't?!?" And my husband, who is NOT a girl, says, "Uh, me neither."

So she showed us. And it was like a hallmark movie. My husband grabbed my hand and I guess my lip kept trembling, and we just looked at this little flickering, alive little being that is living inside of me right now. And then it all became very, very real.

And I thought I'd leave you with this little clip from Friends, because us not being able to see the heartbeat just brought back this scene for me. Don't mind the Portuguese subtitles (??).

Little Black Dot

I had my first appointment today with my OB. I am still a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings and so I am going to try to sort it all out here "on paper." I'll start with my first impressions of the office. When we walked in, there was a very harried receptionist and a very busy waiting room. I immediately didn't like how busy the place felt - just rushed. Next thing I noticed was the practice doesn't seem to be purely obstetrics/gynecological, because there were a few old men there making appointments, getting blood drawn, whatever. I had pictured women and husbands and pictures of babies, etc. Oh well. None of that. Just a busy doctor's office. As my husband pointed out, "You're in LA, what do you want?" Ok. So I sat trying to ignore my first impression. And I sat. And I sat. We finally went back 30 minutes late. The nurse didn't believe me that I wasn't 7 weeks along, based on my LMP, but I expected that. The positive was that the nurse was warm, friendly and sweet. She also deducted 2 lbs off of my weight for my tall boots I was wearing. Bonus for her!

Then we went in the exam room and I stripped to the waist and we started to wait again. Now, I've been in some really nice exam rooms for my pap smears and some really not so nice ones (think Planned Parenthood in high school). The nicer ones have nice blankets to put over your waist, a warming lamp, pretty pictures.... This office was right in the middle. Nothing special, nothing that stood out either way. I'm not going to lie. I would have been excited about a nice, cushy room or even a few pretty touches. All I noticed was a weird little wind chime thing hanging from the ceiling. I guess you're supposed to look at it to feel calm?

At this point my husband was noticing that I was keyed up and tense (really quick on the uptake there). He asked me why I was so nervous and I couldn't really explain. I hadn't been nervous before about this appointment. I think I was just feeling the importance of the moment, not to mention feeling excited about the whole thing.

Then the doctor walked in. I had been telling myself I could put up with all of the other stuff about the office, as long as I really liked the doctor. Well, I liked her right away. She came in with a huge smile and immediately started by apologizing over and over for keeping us waiting. As my husband later pointed out, that is the first time either of us has ever had a doctor apologize for keeping anyone waiting. She is a young, pretty, African American woman with a beautiful smile and a warm voice. After apologizing for the wait, she congratulated us hugely. Again, I liked that. After she started asking questions, we did the little dance again that goes like this:
Her: "When was your last menstrual period?"
Me: "January 16th, but you see, I ovulate late and so..."
Her: "Hmm. How do you know that?"
Me: *babbling about temperatures, charting, opks*
Her: *laughing* Oooookay, well good for you I guess *insert disbelief*, let's just see what the ultrasound shows ok? According to your LMP you should be about 7 weeks along..."
Me: *sigh*

So, proceed to the Ultrasound. Now, I am 5 weeks, 5 days along. I knew there was a very good chance we wouldn't see the heartbeat. Or, much of anything really. But you know I'm an overachiever. So, I was secretly hoping... My doctor grabs the skinny dildo ultrasound wand, lubes it up, covers it with a condom, lubes it up again, and then BOOM...there's my uterus. Yep. My uterus and a...Little Black Dot. The sac. Exactly what I was expecting to see. My doctor couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "Ohhhh, well, ok...so your uterus looks great..." (thanks lady, I'd rather hear about the baby) "...and it's definitely not ectopic..." (yes, okay, good) "...and there's your sac, right where it should be...and, well, yes, it looks like you are right about five weeks along." (I TOLD YOU SO!).

So that was that. It was neat to see what we saw, but I'm not going to lie that I'm not a little disappointed about not seeing more. An egg sac, fetal pole, heartbeat? She scheduled us to come back in next week to try again so we can "see the heartbeat." I think this doctor is more obsessed with ultrasounds than most of the women on fertility forums. She really wants to see that heartbeat.

After the ultrasound, she interviewed me about family history, etc, and gave me the lecture on what to eat/what not to eat. Major plus here - for those of you familiar with the westside of LA, she did clarify that, although I cannot eat lunch meats that may not have been handled properly, Bay Cities Italian Deli is perfectly fine - they know how to handle their meat (hooray!). There were some things I didn't love her answers to, and that I would have probably preferred a midwife's answer, as in her answers to my questions about acupuncture (she says - not unless there's a clear purpose, and even then, who knows if it really works) and when she asked me if I was "willing" to do an epidural (but it's totally up to me either way). The things I did like is that she only sees her OWN patients and has only one other doctor who covers her in case of an emergency and that she was done EVERY SINGLE one of her own patients' deliveries since starting this practice in the last two years. She said, "I want to deliver my own patients. We develop a relationship and we get close and become friends." The whole interview was filled with laughter. And, even though I could tell she was rushed, she felt present.

And then, that was it. Appointment over. Now what? Now I'm left feeling....weirdly anxious. I know this is why people say do NOT do early ultrasounds. Prior to this, I wasn't nervous at all. Even in the room, when she seemed to be trying to reassure me that everything was perfectly normal and healthy, I said "Oh, don't worry, I'm not nervous at all." But now? The appointment just feels...well, like a jumble. First of all, I suddenly and fully feel pregnant. I mean, I saw my uterus. How cool is that? Not to mention, our little black dot is the coolest Dot I've seen on anyone's ultrasound photo. And, I am officially a prenatal patient, a mommy-to-be. Wow. But, also, I feel like I didn't pass some type of test. After we left, all of the nurses were asking "Did you see the heartbeat? How do you feel?" and I was like "uhhh, well no, it's too early...", only to be met with "Huh. Okay." And now I feel like the pressure is on for next week. (relax, relax, relax, relax....)

After I left I called my friend and was trying to describe this to her and I said, "You know, I guess this is what it feels to suddenly start feeling worried about my baby. Stepping into the shoes of concerned mother, or whatever." But then again, maybe it's just overachiever-me, hoping I have an overachiever baby.

According to AmericanPregnancy.org:

The gestational sac is often the first thing that most transvaginal ultrasounds can detect at about 5 weeks. This is seen before a recognizable embryo can be seen. Within this week, at about week 5 ½ to the beginning of the 6th week, a yolk sac can be seen inside the gestational sac. 5 ½ to 6 ½ weeks is usually a very good time to detect either a fetal pole or even a fetal heart beat by vaginal ultrasound. The fetal pole is the first visible sign of a developing embryo. This pole structure actually has some curve to it with the embryo’s head at one end and what looks like a tail at the other end. Generally from 6 ½ -7 weeks is the time when a heartbeat can be detected and viability can be assessed.

Yep. It's true. I did it. I googled my appointment. Ooops. Anyhow, my husband would read this and say, "Great, so you're right where you should be! You have a sac, and then next week there will be a heartbeat." Overachiever-me reads it and thinks, huh, but I didn't see a yolk sac, did I? And was that little squiggle that showed up in the dot when she moved the wand around a fetal pole? was I seeing things? If it was there, why didn't she say anything? If it wasn't, why the hell wasn't it? Annnnnd....stop. Just stop. The baby is fine. My doctor says we're both fine.

This is just me, doing my new, foreign job of being a mom, amplified by my own hyperanxiety and ambition to "do things right." So that's it. That's my update. My doctor is good. Not perfect, but good. I am good. The baby is good. Everything is just "good."

Shopping Spree

For my birthday, my husband bought me an extravagant gift certificate to BCBG, one of my favorite stores, but one I never shop at because it's so expensive. Today I decided to go spend it all for two reasons. One, I want to be able to wear them while I'm still "relatively thin." Two, I thought I might be able to get some shirts that could serve as maternity shirts, at least early on. Thank god the styles right now are long, loose shirts and leggings, huh?

And, before you go on, I should say I am NOT a fashionable person at all. Most of the time, I'm a mess. But I love getting new clothes. Does anyone else feel they are never as nice as the first time you wear them? Anyhow, in no particular order, this is what I bought...

This one is a good go-to shirt. Its soft and comfortable and has cute panels sewn in an arc on the back (not pictured!) to hide the fact that my baby seems to be growing in my love handles. Plus, there's room to grow!

Oh, and I bought it in white. Hmm...don't mind the dumpy bra I'm wearing in all of these pictures. Doesn't do much for me. Ha.

This one I love because of the draping of the shirt. But my husband stepped back like I was blinding him with my neon orange florescence (you can't tell in the picture, but it's actually fine stripes of orange and white). Oh well. Also, he said there was no room for a baby in this shirt. Whatever...I think it has a built in kangaroo pouch in the front!

Now this sweater. Feel free to say all the bad things about it you want. My husband looked at me like I was a bag lady and when I turned around to show him how cute the back is, he looked at me with fear and apprehension. I don't care. It is soft as a brand new chenille robe and feels like you're wrapped in a blanket. It will look really cute with my tall Uggs or even tall heeled boots or maybe my zipper jeans...or just sweat pants and fat belly. Plan on wearing this right through to delivery day. I l-o-v-e- it.

Last one. Not really a maternity shirt. Although maybe I could wear a long white tank top under it for the first few months? I just really like it. The picture doesn't do it justice. It will look great with some jewelry. Maybe a big colored cuff bracelet and definitely some skinny jeans and heels.

So there we go, a big splurge (although the money was already spent on my birthday present) and a Congrats-You're-Pregnant gift to me.

Hmm. You'll notice I didn't buy any pants. I think I'm planning on spending as many days as possible in leggings? Also, maxi dresses are my favorite go-to item.

Twitterpated

Ok, so living in Southern California, you would think we are used to year round summer. But not true. We DO have seasons. This afternoon, when I peeled myself off the couch after a movie-watching marathon (Argot and Flight) and stepped outside I was hit by - SPRING! Hooray. It felt like a caress.

I grabbed dog and husband and we went for a walk. Just a short one, because it's all my old dog can manage. But it was so nice to be out in the warm weather. It's funny how much the weather affects us. I always have a new sense of life and excitement when the weather changes. It reminds me of high school when you would whip out the shorts and tank tops and pretend to be "warm" when it was still 50 degrees out (in LA people get out down jackets for 50 degrees). It reminds me of horseback rides through the fields. Camping when there is still snow on the grounds. Just.....a change. A new beginning.

The walk wasn't anything special, but we did talk about plans for our guest bedroom/nursery. With a two bedroom home, I'm not really willing to sacrifice the guest bedroom entirely, so it will have to serve a dual purpose. I don't like that idea long-term, so does that mean another move in our future? I love our house. It's the perfect location, has a great FEEL to it, and is so light, airy, and pleasant. But three bedrooms would be wonderful. Ahhhh decisions.

The nice thing is, I thrive on change. I love moving houses. I like moving jobs. I like planning for future changes. I just like....the opportunity for something exciting and different. Good thing, huh? Because we're about to face the biggest change yet. In fact, that's what everyone says when you tell them. Everything is about to change and I hope you know nothing will ever be the same again. It's funny, they always say it so sagely and importantly and I feel like saying "Golly gee, are you sure? Honey, what did we get ourselves into??"

Speaking of change, the last few days I have started to feel pregnant. On my way to work Friday, I was a bit panicky that I might get sick in my car. Luckily, the trusty pack of Saltines I've been trucking around did the trick. This morning, I woke up and begged my husband to bring me some Tylenol (pregnancy headache??) and then he brought me an English muffin with toasted cheese to eat in bed. I swear I was hungover. I mean, didn't that same thing happen in college??

Anyhow, no real news. Just enjoying my first un-planned, un-busy weekend that we have had in months. Laying on the couch, looking at my sleeping dog, and contemplating change.

And you? Do you like change? Or do you find comfort in routine?



Took this picture at the canals by our house. Little unknown pockets of the city.