I'm glad this is a baby blog, because I would not want to be talking about football right now - 11 & 12 Weeks

Well, this past week and a half or so has been a little rougher on me.  I have been given the impression by numerous people, books, and blogs that I would start feeling better at the tail end of the first trimester...but my nausea has actually gotten worse.  On top of that, I have a small case of adult acne, which no one told me about.  What the HECK?  (Baby-friendly language!  I need a *%@!-load of practice so I'm trying to start now :)

In other news, I've started to show...a little.  I haven't gained much weight technically (you're "supposed" to only gain 2 to 5 lbs your entire first trimester), but as of last week my stomach has popped out a bit.  I don't look "pregnant" yet, but I do look like I just drank a twelve-pack of beer...it's very flattering. It's been a little difficult for me to grasp how it's "healthy pregnancy weight gain" and not "unhealthy fat gain" when the baby is still down by my pelvic bone but my new gut is up...well, up by my gut.  Body-image-wise, it's a weeeird feeling being almost a third of the way through, because you want something to show for your three months of work, but still want to hold on to your pre-pregnancy body, too; I don't want to look pregnant, but I don't want to not look pregnant.  

Anyway, now that I'm starting to look a little different, I'm going to start posting photos of my progress (it's amazingly unsettling to me that my stomach is now on the world wide web, so please please enjoy these pics so it's worth the creepiness factor); here are a couple at 11 weeks:

I went back to the doctor at the end of week 11, and everything is still lookin' good.  No ultrasound, which I knew beforehand, but it was still a bummer (and on top of that, I had to get a pap smear...so, double bummer).  So I guess I should say sounding good, rather than looking good, since I didn't see anything this time.  I got to hear the heartbeat again - this time with a Doppler, a little microphone thingy, rather than through the ultrasound machine.  The heartbeat is now down from 173 to 167; I'm told that it's normal for it to slow - I guess Lil Fil is becoming physically fit from the marathon-ing.  I did get more than a little nervous when it took the doctor longer than I'd like (it felt like forever, but she probably searched no longer than 10 seconds) to find the heartbeat, but she said that's normal, too; babies, apparently, actually do run (er, swim..?) laps in there, so it takes awhile to track them down when they're still little.

Recap of Weeks 11 - 12:

• Lil Fil is the size of:  a large plum
• I have gained:  2 lbs, give or take
• I love:  chicken wings and ice cream, naps
• I hate:  the smells of garlic and Listerine
• I physically feel:  not great.  I'm having a fair amount of nausea, dizziness, and I tire pretty easily, but most of the time none of those things are overwhelming.  It is worse than it has been thus far, but I suppose it could be much worse than it is, too.
• I emotionally feel:  better than I do physically.  The fact that I'm taking better care of my body but still feel worse is frustrating as hell.  (And acne, are you serious?  I'm not 14.)  Other than those issues, I'm nervously optimistic.
• Comment(s) of the week: 
• Well, the cover says there's an article called 'how to lose 10 lbs without even trying'!   - Jamie, on why he chose Redbook magazine in the doctor's office waiting room.
•  [Tearing up]   - My mom, on seeing me holding my friend Angela's baby.  Hold the tears, mom, that one isn't mine!  We still have a long way to go  :)

Finally, here's Jamie and me at a little over 12 weeks:

My Baby, the Dictator - 10 Weeks

I've never been that good at letting anyone tell me what to do or how to live my life (sorry mom! sorry dad!).  There have been times when I've thought that I didn't have a choice and had to follow someone else's rules, but almost always I found some way to cheat the system with my own game plan.  But when you're pregnant, you really don't have a choice - a little dictator, mine now the size of a cocktail shrimp, unilaterally takes over your decision-making capabilities.  And it's not even a compromise between the two of you; it's clear from the start that this is not a democracy and you don't have a voice.

 

From day one, it's "You can't drink alcohol!"  Okay...huge lifestyle change, but okay, check.  Then it's all about the foods you can't eat.  "You can't eat raw fish, soft cheeses, rare red meats, deli meats, or anything caffienated or diet.  You can't even eat radishes, baby mama."  Whaaaah?  No sushi, no blue cheese, no morning coffee, no Diet Coke?  A very reluctant check. 

 

But then, after the initial changes that are bad enough, there are all these additional sacrifices dictated to you from the little shrimp:

• "I don't care if they used to be your favorite food group; I hate vegetables."
• "Garlic makes me nauseous.  Therefore, garlic makes you nausous."
• "Your new bedtime is 9:30.  11:00 or 12:00 is simply unacceptable.  I will wake you every two hours or so to pee."
• "You'll be fairly nauseous and dizzy every morning.  Think that's worth complaining about?  You should see the way those other fetuses treat their mothers-to-be.  Quit your whining or I'll show you morning sickness."
• "I am entitled to 80% of your energy.  I don't care how unfair or disproportionate this seems to you."
• "I don't care if you don't have energy; You better exercise, or I will make you fat.  Not just pregnant, but fat, too.  I have that capability, you know."
• "Feed me cake and french fries!  But then you might want to exercise some more, big girl."

What I've just realized recently - and this might be the worst of all of it - is that this little dictator might actually be right about some things.  I mean, some of Lil Fil's rules (like so many rules out there) are stupid and arbitrary - like the garlic thing - but overall, between not drinking, exercising more, and eating better, I'm probably healthier than I've ever been.  Somehow this 10-week-old fetus that hasn't even experienced this world has better instincts than my lifestyle choices pre-baby, which were supported by 27.5 years of a relatively-intelligent life (not to mention my own 8.5-month reign of the womb).  Can it really be tyrrany when the laws are making you a better person? 

 

So I suppose this baby is onto something after all.  Makes me wonder if just maybe some of my parents' rules growing up were on target, too  :)