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This is going to be…scattered.  I’ve been putting off posting because I didn’t feel any of these entries were worthy of a post to themselves, but I think altogether they’ll be overwhelming. Oh well. I do want to record this, and the longer I procrastinate because I don’t have a perfectly-sized entry, the worse the problem will get.

I counted down how many weeks I have left at work today, and the absolute, medical-world-won’t-let-me-wait-any-longer-even-if-the-baby-will, upper limit is seven. Things have been accelerating. We took our hospital class.* My shower is this weekend.** My next midwife appointment in two weeks we go over the birth plan. The week after that the kid is officially considered full term.

Huh.

While I’ve finally fully internalized the reality of being pregnant, I’m having trouble groking the concept that in under two months I will be done with this, and will have, in fact, produced a Real Person from (as my brother in law says) Inside of ME. Instead, I feel that that I will continue being pregnant rather indefinitely longer, and while a baby will definitely come about at some point, that point is still somewhere in the distant and foggy future – certainly not in seven weeks.

Some of this might be that all this prep is scheduled on the possibility that the kid comes at 37 weeks, maybe earlier. OTOH, M & I were both decidedly late. Him, ridiculously late. While I understand the reality that sometimes babies are early, if I deliver earlier than 41.5 weeks with my induction already scheduled, I will hardly believe the child is mine.

It helps, too, that I’m still relatively asymptomatic. Apart from not being able to reach my work badge with my opposite hand, and general non-bendy-ness, I feel fine. Sleeping has actually gotten easier recently. My midwife talked at my most recent appointment*** about how she would try to talk me out of an induction if I was 39 weeks and miserable. And (pride of the naive) I have a hard time picturing that from here. Everything has gone SO smoothly, it’s hard for me to imagine being miserable enough to want to risk**** that.

Similarly, my doula asked whether there was anything I wanted to be reminded of if I asked for drugs. I guess there’s a truism that every woman eventually asks for drugs, but (again, from my high horse of inexperience) I question whether I would. I don’t mean that I think I’m particularly iron-willed. I can EASILY see myself saying things like ‘I can’t do this’ ‘this isn’t working’ ‘just make it stop’ (or, like nessa, ‘NOTHING makes it feel better, you FUCK HEAD’) but, I’m not sure that ‘I would like narcotics’ would come to mind. There’s such a build up of not having people offer you drugs as well. Honestly, I feel that my reasons for not wanting interventions are solid and immediate and concrete enough that I would still be able to make a reasoned decision about them while in pain. I don’t think any of my caregivers are pill-pushers, and if one of them, in all their experiences, does think that some sort of drug would be helpful to me, I’d like to have that information.

This, I take it, is unusual.

 

 

*Not entirely worth it for people like me who did a lot of reading beforehand. Often the instructor would make a point, and I would think ‘yup, know that, also, you left out this or that nuance’. The instructor herself was really awesome though, and probably the easiest to talk to of anyone I’ve worked with in this pregnancy. That is saying a lot, too, as I’ve been super pleased with both my midwives and my doula. There was one other girl from my midwife practice in the class (strangely, they are also remodeling their house) and the two of us were the most involved participants with questions and the like. It’s scary to think that people are going into childbirth not even knowing the very basic information covered by that class. The tour and discussion of hospital policy were useful though, and it was good to have a day with M pulled away from other obligations to talk about babies. We had some useful conversations sparked by just thinking about that stuff in close proximity to each other for an extended period.

**though M’s grandmother made a comment to me recently that ‘we have to have a party for you after the baby – once we know how big it is and what you need’ Ummm…how about no? How about that’s what showers are for: so you own some things before you bring the kid home and don’t have to attend a party with an infant? I like M’s family, and they mean well, but they don’t seem to be in-sync with the sorts of etiquette that seem specifically designed to avoid awkwardness like this, i.e. RSVPs, or giving gifts before the baby comes instead of after. I imagine M’s & my parents and siblings will be quite enough socialization for me in the post-partum range without inviting the rest of the thanksgiving guest list.

***where I brought the cup into the bathroom and forgot to pee in it. Brilliant. That’s me.

****risk, in the sense of a higher chance of unpleasant interventions, like ivs and monitoring and caesarians with their associated unpleasant recovery.

 

So, apparently six months is the threshold at which people become confident enough that you are actually pregnant and not just packing on the donuts to comment on it. I’ve been getting comments from strangers at work all month long after not really having anyone say anything before the holidays.

The funniest thing about growing an enormous gut in three months (if I was showing in my first trimester, it wasn’t enough to matter) is that you don’t really notice it. You know that sense of where your own body is that lets you touch your finger to your nose? That sense totally still thinks I’m skinny. Therefore, I run into things.

Also, I grunt and sigh when I stand up, not because it’s actually All That Difficult, but because I didn’t expect it to be difficult at all. I’m all ‘oh, hey, that took effort’. It’s like someone handing you a grocery sack that you thought was full of bread and it’s actually full of canned tomatoes. You can totally lift either, but the tomatoes are a real surprise. I keep getting surprised by my own mass.

On the other hand, bending over to pick things up is difficult enough that I’d Rather Not, Thank You. I was super excited I was able to help Mike install new windows, but the hardest part was picking the shims up off the floor. Later when he was back inside the window, he asked if I could hand him the tape measure or pencil or some such thing he needed from a few feet away on the floor and by the third item I was all ‘how about you get it yourself’. Then I felt like a jerk and he felt guilty, so that didn’t work out so well and I went back downstairs to my couch.

The other thing I’m not really noticing is energy. I’m not falling asleep at work, or wanting to go to bed super early, or any other signs of being tired in my normal schedule, so I assume my energy level is fine. But if I try to *do* something it’s just BAM, done for the day. So I have the option of trying to accomplish things and feeling exhausted, or feeling absolutely fine but laying around all day. Titrating to something in the middle has proved problematic. Laying around all day when you don’t actually feel tired is kind of a bummer.

And yeah, I’ve already gained at least 30 lbs, depending on how exact you are about my starting weight. Yes, I was pretty darn skinny before, but strangely, I still feel relatively skinny now (and not just in the ‘my brain is messing with me’ way) my face and my feet and my arms and all areas not directly related to my stomach (unfortunately, this does not include my butt) all seem pretty much unchanged. I’m a bit concerned about how much larger I’m still going to get.

Oh, yeah, and when I got home and read my form about the glucose testing, it didn’t say a darn thing about eating restrictions before hand, so my overthinking was confirmed. I managed to find something for breakfast without going completely nuts, and the drink really wasn’t that bad – like flat orange soda, nothing terrible. The worst problem was freezing the back of my throat from drinking it so fast. They give you up to 10 minutes, but I downed it in one because I’m a rock star like that. Anyway, they haven’t called me back yet, so I’m taking that as good news.

The only downside of the appointment was that the blood-drawing-nurse, who I love and adore because she does not make me cry, and hasn’t had to stick me twice yet confirmed that I pretty much don’t have anywhere to put an iv other than in my hand. Even the one very best elbow vein she draws from isn’t big enough to use for an iv, much less anything conveniently located away from a joint. Not excited about this. Strangely, I’m sort of hoping that I have more blood draws scheduled so that I can ask her to take some from my hand. It sounds masochistic, but I’d rather practice with her, who is talented and has a teensy needle, before I have to deal with some stranger of questionable skills with a great big needle while I’m in labor. Having her draw from my arm has done a ton to get me over my fear of blood draws. Unfortunately ( o.O ???) I think I’m done with blood draws at this point unless something unexpected comes up.

So, tomorrow is my glucose tolerance test.

The way my office does it is I took a little bottle home and I’m supposed to drink it about a half-hour before my appointment. I don’t have to fast before hand, but she did tell me to have a low-sugar/carb breakfast. We went over a couple examples in the office, but I wasn’t fully prepared with possible breakfast menus at the time, so of course I feel completely lost now.

What I remember:

  • Eggs and sausage are great. Of course. But I really don’t like eating that heavy of a breakfast unless it’s actually brunch. Ooof.
  • White bread & OJ are no good. Seems reasonable, I don’t really like white bread that much anyway, and while I sometimes drink OJ, it’s hardly a requirement.
  • Raisin bran would be ok except for the raisins. I’ve no objection to this, but I would need to go buy a new box of cereal. What exactly am I looking for on that box? I’ve noticed a lot of the high fiber ‘healthy’ cereals we’ve tried are actually quite sweet when you taste them, (presumably to trick people into eating them when they’re really rather be munching on count chocula). I’m guessing that’s to be avoided. I’m not terribly looking forward to reading the labels of the entire cereal aisle to find out which ones have stowaway sugar. Also, I sometimes like to eat my cereal with yogurt rather than milk. Is that ok? Better? Worse? Anyway, cereal isn’t my favorite breakfast in the winter, so let’s keep going.
  • Wheat toast & peanut butter are fine. Ooook. That’s getting close. Unfortunately, I don’t *like* peanut butter on toast. Ironically, I think it’s too sweet. I much prefer cream cheese. That should be an OK substitution, right? But who eats cream cheese on toast? I’m guessing a whole wheat bagel isn’t the same thing as wheat toast. Speaking of which, what exactly do they mean by ‘whole wheat’? That label gets smacked on anything nowadays. How whole is whole enough?

So my current brilliant plan is that we have some super-dense dark brown european-style rye bread stuff* in the freezer that I think would taste OK with cream cheese, and I’m pretty sure it’s as whole-grain as you can get.  So that should be safe. And a glass of milk? Because they said milk was ok on cereal. But maybe that’s because they’re assuming you’re using a half cup or so to get your cereal damp, not a giant tumbler because you are a milk-addict eating dry european bread and want to be hydrated for your blood draws.

So I start googling about glycemic indexes, because that’s the goal of this, right? And let me tell you *that’s* a bad idea. Apart from crazy diet sites and lists with stuff like ‘fried eggs’, ‘whole puffed amaranth’, ‘spelt flour’ and ‘mcDiety brand health-o-nutrient bars’, the most reputable science-y sounding stuff I found was a uk site essentially saying the whole thing is bunk, white bread is barely different from wheat bread, there are 3 different scales and nobody ever tells you which one they’re using, and none of them take into account that a grain of sugar and a cup of sugar are not the same thing.

But that doesn’t help me decide what to have for breakfast.

The crazy(est) thing about this is that I probably have nothing to get worked up over. Diabetes doesn’t run in my family at all (we’re more heart attacks at 40 type people). It’s more out of some twisted desire to follow the rules. Gyarrrh.

*Sort of like ruis maybe? But it’s a square loaf with slices. It’s from aldi, and I think it’s one of their odd imported German items rather than their super-budget items. Actually, I really like the stuff. It’s in the freezer because we stocked up on it, not because we hate it. My immigrant grandmother & I are alike in our passion for bread you can use to construct buildings with in a pinch.

I am currently wearing jeggings.

Worse, they are terrible, high-waisted, mom-butt jeggings.

*Hangs head in shame*

It was a fraught and treacherous path I took to this place.

When I first outgrew my normal pants, I went and found some low rise pants a few sizes bigger. Still, normal person pants. One of them worked great, and the others slid down a bit. Now, the ones that fit great are starting to get tight, and the ones that slid down a bit…well, they still slide down. I think the problem lies in my butt-geometry, not in my absolute size. I imagine they will always slide down. Anyway, around Christmas I went out and found a pair of honest-to-gosh maternity jeans with the giant stretchy belly and everything, that, surprisingly: ▸ Were long enough. ▸ Were a dark color without ridiculous distressing marks or glitter on the pockets or other things making them inappropriate for my work, and ▸ Were a reasonable price. So I bought them. And when I wore them the day after Christmas, I realized that while they fit nicely enough as I wandered around the dressing room, something as strenuous as walking from my living room to my kitchen made them slide down too*. Why does this happen? Why is walking in dressing rooms different?**

Anyway, having a grand total of three pairs of pants to my name (two of which slide down, one which is getting tight, and all of which need to be washed on the same settings) I end up traipsing about in my pjs when I do the laundry, which is less than ideal.

But for Christmas, my grandmother got me a pair of jeggings. Because, well, she’s my grandmother and apparently the lady in the store told her they were a good idea? And as I was doing my laundry in my pajamas, I decided to try them on before I returned them just for the heck of it.

And they fit. So I continued to wear them in preference to pajamas.

And they did not slide down.

So I have succumbed to the temptation of not having to hike up my pants 50 times a day and wore them to work.

On the upside, many of my maternity tops are long enough that they cover the terrible mom-pockets and it just looks like no pockets at all. Maybe? Is this ok? I suspect it may not be.

But I really hate hiking up my pants.

*I’ve since found that if I wear a tight-ish shirt over them, it helps keep them out of trouble. So they aren’t useless, just with limitations.

**I suspect some of the problem may lie in that while they are long enough in the legs I think they are too short in the torso. That stretchy stuff is supposed to come all the way up to your bra, yes? These come, eh, an inch short, and I’m still about two weeks short of my third trimester. It’s hard enough to find tall enough clothes for normal life, I despair of finding maternity clothes with enough height. I’m not even officially in the ‘tall’ range, but most clothes are still too short. I feel sorry for models and legitimate tall people.

As in, literally. I know it’s a common pregnancy symptom, but I am a frigid, frigid person. Sometimes I wear my winter hat most of the morning. I’ve been known to leave my coat on most of the day, because it just feels right. This is at a sedentary office job, yes, but other people I work with are wearing short sleeves to the meetings I show up to with my coat on.

So, yeah, warmer. Huh. Not a bad thing, though it’s really throwing me off. I keep thinking the previous days must have been a fluke and not dressing cooler (also, most of the maternity wear I’ve acquired thus far is sweaters, because, duh, cold person in December)

My belly button is getting increasingly weird. First, it pulls the flesh in the general vicinity inward like a dimple. While this isn’t overly noticeable from most angles, when I myself look down on my stomach it has a cleft in the middle, making it look rather like a very large second butt on my front side. Unfortunate. Also, while it hasn’t popped, it has flattened, revealing all the normally hidden interior belly-button skin. Which is weird. It feels different than normal skin. It also feels differently* than normal skin, as in, it can feel pressure, but it’s slightly numb to light touch. Nothing uncomfortable, but I find it inappropriately fascinating, probably because I thankfully have nothing more pressing to worry about.

Other random things. (or shall I say: notes from the world’s most boring pregnancy)

  • The Friday after thanksgiving (that would be end of week 20) I started to feel kicks on the outside. Which is a significantly different sensation from previous movement. Harder to describe, but pretty much what you would expect it to feel like if something was trying to poke out of you from the inside – bringing to mind disturbing alien imagery. It was quite weird for a while.
  • I started having trouble getting comfortable to sleep this weekend. Apparently, I’ve gained enough weight that if I lie on my side my arm falls asleep, to which M replied ‘welcome to my world’, but, uh, it hadn’t been a problem for me before. Additionally, if I try to tilt forward to put less pressure on my arm, my belly gets in the way, which isn’t uncomfortable per-se, but it prevents my middle from turning as far as my hips and shoulders, making my back displeased. I remembered my mother having one of those big body pillows (not a pregnancy specific one, just a big pillow) and picked that up after two unsatisfactory nights. Despite taking up a ridiculous amount of bed space, it seems to have done the trick for now.
  • I realized that my prenatal vitamins don’t actually have any potassium in them. I’d been getting stomach cramps (pretty much identical to what you get if you try to run after eating) and just passed them off as par for the ever-expanding course, because, hey, I’m taking these giant pills, shouldn’t they have all that stuff taken care of? But no. Things have greatly improved after adding bananas to my meal plan. Surprisingly tasty bananas.
  • I started making milk a few weeks ago. Not enough to feed, well, anything, and thankfully not spontaneously leaking, but it amuses me, because I’m easily amused. I suppose it’s also a good portent for successful breastfeeding?
  • We’ve signed on officially with a doula. I initially called four, heard back from two, and decided not to keep calling the other two because I liked the first one so much. It honestly felt a little silly even doing the second interview because we were pretty sure we had our decision already, but it just seemed dumb to go with the first person we met without even talking with anyone else (also, the second lady was super-highly recommended, not that the first one wasn’t, but pretty much everyone I asked had a good impression of #2). So, there go our worries on not being able to find someone nerdy and analytical enough in the sea of hippy baby people.
  • We’re also signed up for our birth class at the hospital, it wasn’t what I thought I’d end up with, but I don’t know that M has the time to do Bradley and still finish the upstairs, I am absolutely not the target audience for hypnobirthing**, and both the doulas we talked with recommended our particular hospital’s classes and one of the instructors specifically. Unfortunately, the only session of hers we could make was a one-day class, which, again, wasn’t my plan, but there we are. There was a two-day class with her that I think was too close to my date, but the only four-day classes were on days we couldn’t do or with one of the less-recommended instructors. I think I’ll do better with less time and a good instructor than lots of time being cranky with a bad one.
  • We’re at 24 weeks, which is the cusp of survivability*** not at all a good time to be born, but not an automatic dead baby card either. Which is nice to know, particularly since everything seems to be going well at this point. Dang, have I jinxed myself enough yet? I’ll stop.

*I think this is the correct use of adverbs and grammar? Maybe?

**you know those ‘are you a good candidate for hypnosis’ checklists? I pretty much meet none of the criteria.

***this is the sorts of strange things I learn by reading infertility blogs****

****No, I’m not at all infertile. I just apparently have strange taste. I guess the sort of person who chooses to write about that sort of thing in public just tends to have a point of view and way of thinking that appeals to me? I started reading them well before I was married or even remotely considering children, just because I thought some of the authors were good writers.

According to the great and crazy-making* pregnancy books. You’re supposed to be able to feel things around 16-20 weeks. The first time I’m pretty sure I noticed something** was two Sundays ago on October 30th. It was great since I got to interrupt M soliloquizing about whether or not he was going to buy a woodworking router. That would have been at 16.5 weeks, so, a bit precocious for a first timer, but pretty much on schedule.

Anyway, the first couple times I’m pretty sure what I felt was it flipping over, hence the ‘whump’. More recently, I’ve noticed more subtle things like what felt like feet on my left side last night. I don’t feel something every day, but my best chances are right as I’m going to bed, reclining while M reads to me, and right when I get to work if my stomach ends up pushed against my desk a little bit.

In some ways it’s nice to be able to feel things, but it also makes me panic a bit that it isn’t moving All The Time, which of course, it won’t be. But if I haven’t felt anything in a while I start having crazy thoughts, like ‘my pants were too tight yesterday, it must have killed the baby’ or ‘I woke up hot and sweaty last night because I had too many blankets on, it must have killed the baby’ or ‘I sneezed and pulled a muscle in my stomach, it must have killed the baby’. I don’t like being crazy. It’s even weirder that I can be simultaneously worried about accidentally killing the baby by sneezing and about whether we were crazy to decide to have kids now in the first place. I hate-hate-hate things that you can’t go back on, particularly when there’s a waiting period for them to take effect, specially designed for second-guessing and worry making. Once things start happening, I deal with them and stop worrying, but anticipating having to deal with things in the future is bad-bad-bad.

Our 20 week*** ultrasound is tomorrow. I’m hoping for boy bits. I think that’s unusual and most women want girls? It’s particularly unusual since I don’t think I’ve ever really known a boy baby or young child. All my 8 cousins+siblings are girls. If it is a boy, there will be no hand-me-downs to be had, but I want one anyway.

Broke down this weekend and bought fat pants. Not maternity pants, as while I have heard rumors of early maternity pants that go under the belly and are only slightly stretchy instead of giant swaths of knit elastic, I have yet to see them offered for sale. I’m definitely not big enough for the full-on up to your bra pants yet, so I just bought regular pants several sizes too big. My mom thinks they fit better than the pants I normally wear. They keep sliding down though, so I think I’m going to try to sew in some elastic. I’m way more amused at the elastic than I should be. Our marching band uniforms had elastic ‘seat belts’ as we called them, and it cracks me up to think of adding that to regular pants, but it seems like it would work.

*Favorite paraphrase: ‘don’t use electric blankets, because electric fields haven’t been proven to be harmless to fetuses’ errr, neither has the color green I imagine. Also, they seem very insistent that I break off my crack habit. How many people with crack habits are reading pregnancy books?

**Have you ever really paid attention to sensations coming from your gut? You can feel a lot of things moving around down there, most of which aren’t really discussable in polite company.

***actually only 19 weeks…I’m still unconvinced at the scheduling at my OBs – I seem to be a week early for everything, but they assure me it’s fine

So, right on schedule (I guess) for the start of my second trimeter a bump showed up on the 3rd. Now, you pretty much have to both be looking at me naked, and be intimately familiar with what I looked like naked before to detect it, but hey, guess who fits both those criteria every morning in the bathroom? I do. I say I have graduated from ‘I gained ten pounds of muffin top’ to ‘baby bump’. And pretty much no one will argue with me*

I’m surprisingly pleased by it. I’d never thought I was particularly vain, but I am naturally very slim, and well, I’d sort of gotten used to things in the dozen years since I stopped getting taller. The idea of having my body be a different shape for the rest of my life really upset me more than I was expecting. But, now that it’s here, rather than in the mysterious and worrisome future, it’s OK. I like it.

That said, it’s hardly dramatic. There are exactly two items of clothes that are starting to not fit. My yard work jeans (pretty much the only pants I own that fit at my waist rather than super-duper low rise), and this one sweater that has a tie around the waist. The sweater really looks rather stupid now. It’s pretty funny. I plan on wearing it over to my mom’s in an attempt to convince her.

Oh, yeah, and the boobs (wow, this blog is taking a turn for the tmi). They’ve gone from pleasantly filling out my ridiculously tiny bras for the pre-pubescent** for the first time ever at the beginning of pregnancy, to now finding all my usuals unpleasantly tight. I’m finally an A cup! Unfortunately unless I make it all the way up to a B, there don’t seem to be any nursing bras available in my size, so I’m hanging with the two that sort-of fit*** for now in the hope that we will continue this trajectory.

I’m thinking I should order some extra-long t-shirts to tide me over until I need maternity clothes, as I should be able to wear them at my normal size too (I’ve thought they would fit better anyway, but always been put off by having to have them shipped, the regular sizes are close enough). I anticipate having trouble with maternity clothes as ‘size 0’ + ‘5 foot 7’ plus ‘chronically cold’**** is hard enough to shop for without adding ‘pregnant’ to the mix. Maybe I’ll get lucky and the extra length will be more standard in maternity sizes. Anybody know where pregnant teenagers shop?*****

*Except my mom. I showed it to my mom, and her response was ‘I don’t think my stomach’s ever been that flat in my life’. She refused to be convinced.

**The downside to a naturally thin figure I guess. Did you know size 34AA existed? Oh yeah, you might remember it from the training bra section.

***While I had no shortage of bras that were too large, very few of them seem to be too large in the correct ways. Instead of being generically too big, they now just generically don’t fit.

****I’ve found some fashion blogs with maternity sections, and while a lot of the things are super cute, a lot of them also involve short sleeves and skirts (in winter!) which I pretty much would freeze to death in. I know you’re supposed to get warmer while pregnant, but I can’t imagine getting that much warmer.

*****I gotta clarify, I’m not at all a teenager, I just currently find most of my clothes in the juniors section. I also refuse to shop at forever 21 despite the fact that they are a teenager store with an alleged maternity section, because the name always conjures haggard cougars or trophy wives in midriffs and pigtails to me. I may have to sacrifice my principles.

My husband asked me last night what made me so in favor of this whole ‘natural birth’ thing. I don’t think whatever answer I gave at the time was very good, but I think I’ve narrowed it down since then.

I don’t have a history of reacting well to medication. Whether it’s preferring the pain of newly extracted wisdom teeth to the blurry feeling of the pain medication, or the birth control pills that made me depressed,* sudafed and ibuprofen are about the only medications I can remember using that were better than the symptoms**.

There are a lot of elaborations and tangents*** I could go into here, but what I think it really comes down to is based on my history I’m more afraid of what a doctor might do to me than what my body might. Maybe that’s really, really dumb naive thinking****, but that’s where I am now.

 

* Thank you trojans for six years successfully free of both babies and crazies

** Well, and antibiotics and such. Duh, but those are a lot less comparable to an epidural.

*** Such as: I really don’t like being told what to do.

**** Which is part of the whole ‘not in my living room’ stance – if I find out it was a dumb idea, I’d like to be able to change my mind.

I’m getting a little cranky searching for delivery options in my area. It seems the only two options are fully managed hospital settings, or full-on crunchy granola push it out in your living room. I kinda wish there was something in between, but apparently birth centers aren’t a ‘thing’ in my area, despite the prevalence of crunchy granola living room options. Not that I have anything against giving birth in living rooms…just not my living room. Maybe that’s back to the denial of the previous post, but it just seems so weird. I can’t picture it. I don’t particularly want a medical professional coming to my mish-mash half remodeled house.

Also, I’m not a very crunchy person. I like a lot of the crunchy ideas, but not so much the personality. I’m not spiritual. I’m introverted. I don’t like strangers touching me. These things all seem somewhat in opposition to the crunchy community.

(not that there aren’t crunchy people out there I’d get along with – there are devoutly religious people I get along with, so I’m sure there are hippies I’d get along with, since I probably agree with them on more stuff, but it feels like it puts me in a minority and makes it harder to approach the community)

So, this is a house/garden blog, which is a pretty domestic thing, so I guess that means adding babies to it wouldn’t be too weird, would it?

Because that seems to be what’s happening. It’s all very surreal. Apart from a nominally late period, notable lack of preventative measures in the previous month, and that ‘+’ in the title, I wouldn’t guess that I was pregnant. But I guess I am. The only symptom I can even imagine myself into having is I’ve been a little crampy/gassy, but we’ve been eating out a lot with our kitchen being remodeled, so that’s hardly definitive.

It’s funny, at this point, I can’t make it real. My biggest thoughts are about how an april(ish)? date will really mess up my spring planting next year, and that this means we probably shouldn’t get a second dog, and I shouldn’t start knitting a sweater when I don’t know if I’m ever going to have these measurements again. Shouldn’t I want to be knitting baby things instead? It feels like I’m faking it.