Feeling Positively Negative

So the big scan came out positive... A+ according to the doctor. We got a close-up photo of the baby's profile. It's actually kind of cute. I'm still feeling a bit tired, and though my hunger is returning it is not in full-force. I figured out the smell that has really been bothering me - GARLIC. And I LOVE garlic. Now it makes me kind of sick. Not realizing it, I made a pasta dish that I like and used a ton of fresh chopped garlic. You know what that means. That was two days ago and my fingers still stink. Maybe that's what made the nausea return.

I'm also feeling rather irritable lately. Mostly towards my husband. We are going away in two days for a great California trip. I don't know why I feel angry at him. Perhaps it is the hormones. I just can't shake the feeling. And right now, this second, while sitting here at my desk, I want to crawl into bed and take a long nap. It was a rainy morning, so that could have something to do with it. I had a couple of good days, when I was active and eating. And now it feels like I reverted back to they icky way I was feeling. I wanted it to be over but I guess it's a gradual decline.

Now I'm trying to figure out, since we are finishing out the first trimester, when is an appropriate time to talk to my HR department and my co-workers, to let them know that I am pregnant. I can't hide it much longer. Today, my jeans are held together with an elastic that I used normally to hold my hair back. The zipper is partially down and they are still hurting my stomach. Glamorous.

I Scream

In the midst of week 12 and truly starting to feel better. Yes, I did almost pass out (for real) on the subway yesterday but I am regaining my appetite and haven't puked or dry heaved in a while. I even feel more energetic and definitely have got the cleaning bug. Feel like shopping for the holidays and for the little peanut, though I will not give into that temptation just yet. Firstly, I'd like to get through Monday's big scan to see that all is well in baby-land. Secondly, I'd like to find out that Eric is not a carrier of any genetic disorder. We should know all of that next week. Then it's off to California for a little vacation which I am really looking forward to. A drive down the coast, from San Fran to LA, with stops along the way... what could be better than that?

But what is really on my mind today is why Haagen Dazs makes those delicious ice cream bars (you know the ones covered in chocolate, that come on a stick?) come in packages of 3??? I mean, I buy them so that both my husband and I can enjoy, but one of us only gets to enjoy it one night while the other greedily claims the last one the following night. I am usually the greedy one (nobody comes between me and my ice cream!) but still. I feel a little bit guilty about it. I just think there should be four to a box so that couples like us can both enjoy their delicious dessert for two nights.

Move Into the Country, Eat a Lot of Peaches

The house I grew up in was a small country dwelling, that originated as an even smaller, more country dwelling. My parents put an addition on at some point and I can only imagine what it was like prior to that. Bunk beds, plus foster children equals more beds in every nook, and only one small bathroom. There was furnace heating that came through one small vent in the room I shared with my sister and a larger vent out in the play room. Sissy and I would scurry out on cold winter nights and squeeze in front of that panel of heat for the two minutes it lasted to warm our small bodies before running back to our beds, hoping not to get caught. Nearly impossible, since our house was anything but soundproof. My family all watched television in the living room together and ate dinner around the same table each night. I shared a room with my sister until my brother left for the Army and then I had my own space for the first time, until he went AWOL over a girl and ended up back home. Even while in my own room, my sister and I would tap on the wall to let each other know that we were right there.

I lived up a dirt drive that was inhabited by 6 other families at the time. To get to our house, you would veer into the dirt drive once you passed the row of mailboxes, pass the small home at the base of the drive, pass Pine Tree Fort and Big Rock on your right, followed by the big house overlooking Lake Mombasha on your left. That house is now owned by doctors but once was owned by a man who I think ended up drowning in said lake one drunken afternoon. Make a sharp right turn, pass The Castle and then the house of our hippy neighbor whose husband died from a drug overdose before we were aware of him and who wouldn't let her kids have sugar (one of whom ended up robbing our house later on in life, the other who went onto Harvard). She married a man who had money, renovated her house and later moved away. Next to them is our religious neighbors who adopted pre-teen brother and sister and proudly displayed the Jesus fish on their car bumper. They used to have pretty wild parties (possibly prior to finding Jesus?) and I vividly remember a brother-in-law who played way to rough with all of the neighborhood kids but whom we all adored anyway... thinking back, he gave us all a little TOO much attention, which we eagerly ate up. They were directly next door to us, then the neighbors with the husband who dressed up in Civil War garb, complete with the gun, and drank pickle juice. His daughter bit me once on her swing set and I went home to tell my parents. My father's advice was to "bite her back" so I went looking for the perfect opportunity to do just that, but learned that a bite really needs to be spontaneous in order to work. Last on the dirt road were the neighbors with the big house and pool overlooking our bus stop and Lake Winnipee in the distance.

Today a lot more big houses overlooking Lake Mombasha have sprung up and a fancy stone wall has even been built. I think The Castle has been torn down, or will be shortly and I can only imagine the fate of Pine Tree Fort. Thankfully, Big Rock will still be standing unless some major dynamite comes into the mix. My brother now lives in the house that I grew up in and I don't like to think about what the newbies think of the life that was my childhood and is still my brother's. We didn't have much, but we had nature, and love and interesting afternoons. We were country kids, and though I've been in the city for a long time now, I still feel that. Slowly, the city mentality is creeping into even the most remote crevasses of my childhood home, and it makes me sad to wonder what my father would think of all the changes. Knowing him, he'd be upset with all the "yippies" moving into his territory, but would offer to plow their drive for a nice price, and would wake them Sunday mornings with the sound of his chainsaw cutting wood for our wood-burning stove. And he'd laugh about that, but be sure to tell them to SLOW DOWN, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE as their SUV's go speeding by on a road meant to be taken leisurely.

Misinformation and Too Much Information

So we saw the bean yesterday. Hubby says it looks like a teddy bear. So cute... big head, little dinosaur hands, teddy bear body. And a very fast heart beat. It was pretty cool. And now I know it really does exist and it's in there and alive. It still doesn't feel real, but it's one step closer to that.

After feeling the pressure from the mother-in-law to get the genetic testing taken care of, I called the center again to verify the cost. If you remember, they quoted me $13,000 the first time I called and since my insurance doesn't cover it, I thought there was no way we could go through with it. Well, turns out, according to a knowledgeable person at the research center, the cost would be $1,737 for the full Jewish panel screening tests. That's quite a difference, huh? So now it's up to the hubby to actually get his Jewish behind over there and get it done. He's resistant for whatever reason, but the results take a long time to get back so sooner is better than later. And his mother will be all over him to make an appointment, so I can stop nagging.

One thing I hate about pregnancy is being told what to do, how to do it, how so-and-so did it, etc. Everyone has an opinion, and usually the loudest of the bunch is the one I don't want to listen to. I'm tired of being compared to other previously pregnant people. I'm tired of being questioned about what we're going to do when the baby arrives and then judged for my response. I am allowed to raise this kid, with my husband, the way I see fit. I shouldn't have to explain why I am going back to work or why daycare is right for us. And what scares me is knowing that this is just the beginning. Once the kid does get here, the advice about how to raise him or her is going to be relentless. Everybody knows better. It's infuriating. I want to enjoy my sonogram photos and revel in the moment I'm in right now since I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. Why can't everyone just back off... I'm only 10 weeks along, for crying out loud!!! Cut me some slack! (Oh, yeah, once again, being the mathematical genius that I am, I miscounted the weeks, so it's one less than I thought... DUH!)