Tuesday, March 15, 2011

IT'S A BOY!

It’s a BOY!!!  And though he behaved shyly during his anatomy exam, the results reflected he is normal and healthy.  We are thrilled, to say the least!  Here's Bebe Roach's first photo opp...




Nevertheless, there are two sides to this sentiment -- I'm happy that he is progressing, but the pressure/concerns have raised significantly.  How much is childcare?  Where are we putting the crib?  We haven’t registered at the hospital!  What is a layette and do I need one?  The nursery – oh no, the nursery is still a study.  My stomach itches. My stomach itches. My stomach itches.

On a different note, I gained 16 pounds my first trimester.  To put that into perspective, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” the so-called “pregnancy bible” read by 90% of pregnant women in America, suggests gaining between two and four pounds in the first trimester.  Oops.  I will see your two pounds and raise you 14.

I thought I was having a “skinny” morning (relatively speaking).  At today’s checkup, however, I weighed in at a whopping 126 lbs.  I’ve gained a total of 23 lbs in 20 weeks.  Oy vey!  The doctor claims this is textbook weight gain.  Really?  To what was originally a 103 lb 5’3” frame?  I doubt that.

I know having “big balls” is prized, at least metaphorically, but guys, imagine if your balls were twice their normal size…swollen, sensitive, hanging heavy.  As awesome as they might sound, big, giant balls would get in your way.  I just bought a bra in 36D, and I still must refrain from a robust inhale for risk of exploding out of my new D cups.  These new boobs are tender and unwieldy.  It’s hard to sleep without rolling over and pinching one of them, much less, have Pete elbow one of them in his sleep.  Sometimes I wake purely from the growing pains I feel in one or the other.  My point is this: you want to have balls, you want to have brass balls even, or balls of steel, you may even want to go balls to the wall, but big balls? I would think twice.

Let me just say – I can’t wait to be in real clothes again!!  I am so over the tent-wear.  Pretty sad that with 20 weeks to go, I’m already planning my way back into fashion.  While I’m completely aware that patience is a virtue, in this instance, I’m more like a hare than a tortoise.  40 weeks is not quick.  Rather, it’s like quicksand, and sloooows down the closer I get to my due date.  Amidst it all, I just want to meet my little man! 

For now, I guess I’ll keep rocking the oversized sunglasses and leggings – oh, and huge round belly.

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