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Being pregnant has really gotten me very spoiled and showered with more attention than I would ever have guessed. Tom told me that this overdone baby shower was for me, not him. Yes, I got the most attention, but Atticus has no idea how much he's already loved and what celebrity status he already has. Tom's family put on such a thoughtful, detailed smorgasbord of food, decorations, games, prizes and gifts. Grandma Hill and Auntie Jewel are the ones who set it off, and though I did not cry at the shower, when I put away all the awesome stuff we got my heart and eyes swelled a little.
The games were clever, I must say. Everyone was given an ice cube in their drink with a japanese looking baby inside and whosever baby broke out of its water one a gift. Then everyone guessed my bulging pregnant circumverence and actually an eight year old boy got it right. In most of the pictures my glasses looked like they were gonna slide off my face and I keep making this very unflattering, scrunched up grin. Daddy looked handsome and photogenic as usual. Here's a few pictures that were more flattering than others.
Last night for the first time I experienced the tainted smell and taste bud phenomenon that goes with pregnancy. This late. I hadn't really picked up on things tasting wrong or smelling wrong before, or at least not so distinctly. Tom made an awesome dinner for me. I mean, V.I.P. Rock n' Roll celebrity feast and all. He made rice, grilled onions and mushrooms on the barbecue along with a heaping salmon steak. Now don't go crinkling your eye brows over the high level of mercury in the salmon. I was just going to have a tiny bit. Anyways, Patrick my trusty neighbor was over and gave me a large mug of Dr. Pepper and ice in it. Immediately I knew there was something wrong as I put the mug up to my lips. I could smell cigarette ashes. And then I could taste them very strongly in my soda. And the soda didn't even taste like soda... like there was just.... something ...off. I watched him bring the clean mug of ice from his place and pour the soda in at my house. The simple fact that the mug had been in the cupboard of his very smoky house tainted it. But I never experienced that before and Patrick always smokes like a European in his house.
And then came the mushrooms. I was so excited to eat them that I kept pestering Tom how much longer I'd have to wait until they were done. So what a disappointing surprise when I bit into one after another and noticed a slight plasticky taste. I'm not doing justice to describe it. I don't know what could have gone wrong with putting white onion shards, crimini mushrooms, salt, pepper and butter in a pocket of aluminum foil and letting it sit on the grill for a long time. Tom was clearly hurt. He was all chatty and hyper and excited when I came home with news of good food, a blouse he bought me and some feeding starter bottles we'll eventually need for the baby. He had been a good hunter and gatherer and I crapped out by complaining about everything. But that is in general how I've been alot since the pregnancy started: bitchy and unsatisfied. Never before do I remember feeling so angry so easily, so irritated at just little things like how loud someone speaks, a small worry, etc. I've got the "every thing is a negative ploy personally against me" mind set and I know its just the hormones.
All of these amazing and difficult changes are worth it, but I miss how easy going I think I was in comparison. At the end of the evening cuddling up to Tom and feeling Persephone make the muffins on my hips and then feeling her vibrating purr on me made everything better.
So here we are on the 25th week, getting to know each other better. I'm finally depicting a pattern of when Atticus is the most active, which is all over the place like mama's schedule. My sleep is just so screwed up from going from these grave yard shifts to swing. But really I can't sleep well until about 7 or 8am and then want to sleep all day. It's no wonder I'm now steadily gaining weight at an alarming rate. My body keeps spreading out like a Hershey's kiss, or like an old tea kettle shaped woman ( which is how Micheal Palin always described the shape of old grannies), or pear shaped as the Brits would say. But enough of that.
The ultrasound!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Since the li'l bean is gaining more girth with growing organs and a tiny fatty layer it was harder to detect what the hell I was seeing on the screen. It is truly amazing what those doctors can make out from an ultrasound. They assured me everything measures spot on, that he's healthy and listening to his heartbeat makes me think of humming birds- how fast their hearts beat. It was sad that Daddy couldn't make it to this one since he had to work. And when I told him that it was hard to get a good face profile due to his arms and legs crowding his face, Tom said," that's because Daddy wasn't there."I haven't scanned in the wonderful head shot they printed for me from this ultrasound, but I'll post it any day now.
In the mean time you all can oggle at my protruding belly.
Sorry for the stupid title, but I have to make fun of atleast Tom's delight when he saw at the last ultrasound the suspiciously long legs already evident on our tiny Atticus. Tom is about half legs, but they are still very long on his 6,2" frame. He keeps saying the boy is gonna look like him since he looks identical to his dad and so does every other brother from his dad. But I hope Atticus will have both of our native features: the dark brown eyes, thick, shapely eye brows, etc. I think this pic was earlier than the last ultrasound. But don't worry: I'll have more pics to show from this up coming ultrasound on the 13th.
I can't wait until we see his face!
I had been bleeding for sixteen days straight. At first the doc just said to keep her updated when my period began and wouldn't stop. Then after about eleven days it was pretty evident there was something wrong. The doc's secretary advised in her girly, squeaky voice that I had to come in for a pregnancy test before they could rule out what was wrong.
"I seriously doubt it's that. I mean, my boyfriend was told at the age of 19 by his doctor that he had a slim to no chance of ever fathering a child," I told her. But there it was. All the times that I secretly wished I was pregnant when my lunar cycle was late or I forgot a pill, I wasn't. And this time, I highly doubted it for once. But the question after that hung in my mind like a speech bubble.
That Friday night I brought a girlfriend over from work to get loaded. While standing in the kitchen among the cigarette smoke and growing amount of empty bottles I announced to Jamie and Tom that my Physician requested a pregnancy test. Tom all ready latched onto this possibility as I said it with beaming hope and wild passion.
"Oh... my God! We could be parents!" he smiled in between gulps.Talking about it made me giddy. And also guilty already for even thinking about it with a beer in my hand.
That night I tossed and turned and could not sleep. My heart pounded and my thoughts would not waver until I knew. Finally I got up at 7am that next morning and headed straight for the Walgreens two blocks away. I bought the two pack just in case the first would not have clear enough water marks, or pee marks, that is. Straddled on the toilet seat I watched the stick work its hormone detacting magic. Within a couple minutes a second stripe appeared, and it wouldn't go away. Unbelievable. I stared at it in wonder and shock. This is real.
I ran into the bedroom and waved the pee soaked stick in Tom's face. "I have two stripes! I'm pregnant!" I did the snoopy dance all around the bed and overheard my friend waking up in the other room.
"I don't want what you have. ... Oh, congratulations!" That was no surprise. Jamie was not even close to ending her partying lifestyle. Tom and I cuddled, laughing and listening to our hearts pound. Right away we we started our list of phone calls. First Tom called his sister Jewel. She had to ask really? a few times before believing knowing Tom's past fight with testicular cancer. The odds were so slim, but obviously not impossible. Then I called my sister Misha.
"Guess what? Blix is going to have a cousin," I phrased so it would take a second for her to register. Yet again hearing the reallys? and then excitement after.
From then on I never picked up a cigarette or a beer. My life had changed in the most wonderful ways possible. My aimless halt at the crossroads had ended. Now it is time for REAL living.
