lezbemoms

Raising a Blended Family

Passworded Post and Cloth Diapers!

So I put up a PW’d post… same PW as always folks, email if you need it!

Also, when I came home today my wife informed me that the Stashing of the Cloth Diapers has officially begun. 🙂  She ordered a cover and some inserts (this kind), and le plan is to buy one or two covers and some inserts each month for the next 7 months.  =) Both of us are ridiculously over-excited about this first order, considering it is, after all, a receptacle meant to hold tiny humans’ waste and nothing more. LOL.  But having to buy such receptacles implies that there will BE a tiny human here in a few months who will need to use them, and that in itself is worth some excitement.  Dontcha think?

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Protected: And we have officially told the kids!

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Introducing….

Our kid!!!!!!!!!*

We had our first ultrasound today, which means we finally, finally, FINALLY got to see this kid we worked so hard to make.  And here he is! (or she. or it.  whichever).

IT'S A BABY!!!

 

Yep. S/he looks just like a peanut, with a tail.  We’re proud mamas.  =)  Baby was measuring 8w5d, which was 3 days behind our calculation of 9w1d.  None of the 3(!) doctors in the room seemed to be at all concerned about this apparent lag though, even when we told them we were 100% sure of the date, so I am trying not to be concerned either.  Plus, baby had a nice strong heartbeat… 180!!!!!  Speaking of which… wanna see?  (Please excuse the inane commentary, lol)

Seeing as how this was my first ultrasound and all, I had to have the heartbeat pointed out to me, but once I saw it and heard it I was in awe… there were tears.  It’s just such an amazing experience, and it’s so so so soooooo relieving to know everything’s going okay in there.

And finally, since we now know everything is okay, I will go ahead and post my 9w picture here and on the belly page, even though we’re measuring behind.  Hopefully the baby will catch up!

9 week belly.

*we’re working on a blog name.  Just haven’t found the right one yet! Geesh, this part is harder than picking our the actual names was!

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And also… Hey Chicagolanders!

Soooooo…. What are you guys up to this weekend?  And by “you guys,” I specifically mean those of you within driving distance of Indianapolis (Chicagolanders, this would be you!  Sorry, everyone else, but plane tickets are expensive these days.).

 

I know it’s last minute (though not as last minute as our insemination timing!), but we are unexpectedly kid free this weekend and we feel like hangin’ out! Plus, we feel like Jamba Juice, and the nearest jamba juice is in Chicago.  And since we have no kids to pester the hell out of us distract us on our drive, and since we both like long drives and feel like a mini roadtrip would be a good thing and since, oh yeah, it would be wicked awesome to actually get to meet some of you people… I once again ask…

 

Whatcha’ doin’ this weekend?

 

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Confession

So, I went to the store yesterday to buy some stuff to make dinner.  And I brought home a jar of pickles with me too.

As of right now, 5:30pm on Wednesday evening, that jar of pickles is completely empty (except the pickle juice, of course).

Confession: I may or may not have eaten all the pickles* in that jar in a less-than-24-hour-time-period.

Confession: Of those 24 hours, 10 of them I was working/commuting.  8 of them I was sleeping.  But I came home today and they just sounded so darn good.

Confession: If I had another jar right here right now, I could not guarantee you that the pickles in that jar would still exist in an hour or two.  Ahem.

 

No, I’m not pregnant at all, why do you ask?

 

 

PS- only 2 more days until our scan!

*T1 did have one bite, that she begged from me, and I grudgingly gave.  Mourning the loss of that one bite every step of the way.

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Air, air everywhere… an honest summation of issues experienced at 8 weeks pregnant.

Air has suddenly become very central to my existence.  Not, in fact, that it wasn’t before (being one of the conditions necessary to sustain life and all), but as of late, it seems to have become even more central- a revolving theme, you might say, in this little game of life and pregnancy.

For instance, there is the category of Hot Air, otherwise known as the kind that comes out of me when pregnancy hormones surge and I get frustrated or downright angry for no apparent reason.  I have been known lately to get into this state for both legitimate and nonlegitimate reasons- dealing with idiots on the phone at work, for instance (I call that one legitimate), or getting mad because I can’t find my favorite spatula while cooking (probably nonlegit), or because the cat tipped over my glass or dipped her damn paw in my tea, again (legit? nonlegit? hard to say)… or also, just because my wife may have looked at me the wrong way (for this one I’ll just say sorry, wife).  When these things happen and my hormones come boiling to the surface, it generally causes a lot of hot air to come rushing out and express itself as frustration, with or without a side of angry tears to go with it.  Ah, hormones.  Funsies.  Luckily, I’d like to think this form of air doesn’t show itself too much in our lives and that most of the time I am nothing short of a complete bundle of joy to be around… though in the interest of complete disclosure, Shorty may have a different take on that.  😉

Then of course, there’s another category of air that has played a more central role as of late.  The air I breathe , though it has always played a vital (ha. pun.) role in my existence, seems lately to have become even more vital and yet correspondingly harder to acquire.  Witness: I go upstairs, end up short of breath for the next minute (and Shorty laughs at me).  Go downstairs, same thing (Shorty keeps laughing).  Get up too fast, gasp for air next 5 minutes (yep, Shorty’s still laughing).  Pick up all the crap items strewn around my living room because I’m tired of it looking like a pigstye, end up sounding like I should be on life support (Shorty is guffawing by now).  Finally give up and sit down… and end up throwing my slipper at Shorty’s head because she is STILL laughing and she has finally pushed my hormones too far (see paragraph above for reference on how the rest of this scenario plays out).

Okay fine, so it’s not quite as bad as all that, but the point is this: I have been getting noticeably short of breath doing simple things I’ve always taken for granted.  Though Dr. Google and all the pregnancy boards I’ve read all assure me that this is a normal phenomenon, the truth is, I like my oxygen and I would prefer to continue to get plenty of it, thankyouverymuch.  Dr. Google helpfully assures me that the shortness of breath is caused by an increased oxygen demand placed on my body due to the baby’s oxygen needs.  Great.  So now, not only is this kid stealing all my food, he’s taking all my oxygen as well?  Greedy little parasite cuddlebug.  (Side note to baby: if I’m going to share all this stuff with you, you had better come out of that womb as strong as freakin’ superwoman and with a teenager’s sleeping abilities.  Do you hear me?!).

Apparently though, no matter how much air the baby is stealing from me, he/she/it is generous enough to leave plenty leftover for me to have gas.  And holy crap, such gas I have never had in my entire life!!!  It is omnipresent, constant, unstoppable and overwhelming.  It has no sense of right, wrong, or social situations.  It has nothing to do with how regularly I do or do not move my bowels.  At work, I basically have to pray that the “opportune moment” will come at a moment when everyone’s busy, no one’s at my desk bugging me, the phones are ringing, and the centrifuges are going.  Luckily, that happens more often than you would think, plus my desk is a bit removed from everyone else’s, leaving me free to toot-at-will…. but I would be lying if I said there haven’t been some awkward moments in elevators.

It is at this time that I once again have to stop and reflect on how grateful I am to have such a loving, comfortable relationship to go home to.  Not only does Shorty put up with my hormones, not only do I know that although she laughs at me while I’m gasping for air, she would be there in a flash if ever actually do need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation… I also feel very free to fart in front of her, and that is no small thing.  I know some women who would NEVER fart in front of their partners.  I have a friend who is getting married next year who still refuses to “go” when her fiance’s around.  And let me just say… I would not last in this situation.  Luckily, I don’t even have to try… having the amazing, wonderful wife that I do, I have to say how thankful I am to be able to just let ‘er rip when I get home. No, really. No sarcasm. And Shorty being Shorty, and being the amazing wife that she is,  very rarely comments on my gaseous issues… only silently reaches for a pillow to hold over her face and continues with what she was doing.  Doesn’t even scoot away from me on the couch.

Ladies and gentlemen, that, right there, is love.

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I want to go on vacation!

So this is not really baby-related, but can I just say how much I am dying to go on some sort of vacation? Any vacation!

We had a trip to Jamaica booked over our anniversary in July that I was incredibly excited about, but that was before we found out I was pregnant.  We cancelled said trip, because with baby coming three short months later and me not having been at my job long, vacation time is suddenly a hot commodity and not something we can just spend willy nilly.  To be honest, when we booked the trip, we didn’t expect to get pregnant so fast and expected to have more time to save up for vacation!  Needless to say, although I am over-the-moon excited about the pregnancy, I am still in mourning for my planned luxury trip with our beachfront walkout suite and all inclusive drinks, sports, and everything else.  Sigh.  =(

Shorty doesn’t know it yet, but I have been lurking on livingsocial escapes, tripadvisor, and other travel sites just trying to find a quick affordable extended weekend getaway to SOMEWHERE.  Maybe a three night stay in cancun? ! quickie trip? or a quick flight to new york?  I don’t know, but I’ve got the travel bug and I need to go somewhere. I’m desperate, and I’m willing to use a vacation day or two in order to get ‘er done…. just not a whole week, because the more time I use now, the less of my FMLA time will be paid come September/October.

Where would you go, if you were us?

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8 week belly…

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Are you there, baby?

It’s me, mommy.  Are you in there?

I hope you are- I suspect you are- I think you’re just very good at hiding.  Half the time, I feel like you’re definitely in there.  Of course you’re in there, where else would you be?  During these more optimistic times, I like to picture you, curled up safe and sound, hard at work developing fingers and toes and whatever other bodily parts you deem necessary to your existence.

Other times, you like to worry mommy.  You like to play hide and seek with us and make mommy’s symptoms come and go.  A touch of reassuring nausea here, only to vanish worringly for the next three days or so.  Complete and utter exhaustion one day, followed by days of more-or-less normal energy levels.  Cramps, on and off.  Kid, you’re already a tease and you’re not even 8 weeks old yet*!

It is worth noting that your Mama has never, for one second doubted your existence.  She really believes in you, kid (not that I don’t), and she has been your Mommy’s rock and solid support- she’s the one who reminds me you really are there during your more tricksey times, and she also speaks to you sternly when you make me cramp too much or exhaust me too much or generally over-use your Mommy.

Speaking of which, kid… the one symptom you like to give me that is almost constant and pretty dependable is that you make me starving, kid.  Allllll the time.  Seriously, you are a food stealer- would it kill you to share every once in awhile?  Remember that cereal I ate this morning?  I promise that bowl was plenty big enough for the both of us, and the yogurt cup too.  You could have shared even a little bit of that with your Mommy, kiddo, but nooooo… instead, you ate it all and I was starving again 10 minutes later.  Clearly, sharing is a skill we need to work on.

Other than that, kid, you and I are getting along splendidly.  I love reading about how you’re growing and how you’re doing.  I love knowing that I’m carrying you around with me wherever I go.  I love when your Mama bends down and leans into my tummy and tells you about her day or tells you to stop hurting your Mommy or just kisses the area over your head, gently.  And as time keeps flying by, I look forward to next Friday when we finally get to peek in at you via ultrasound (for real, this time!).  Can’t wait to see you hopefully dancing around in there!

Until next Friday kid.

PS- I’m about to eat a bowl of neopolitan ice cream with strawberry sauce.  It’s my favorite.  Do you think you could manage to share? Just a little bit? Just this once?

 

*8 weeks tomorrow.  By the time we have our appointment next week we will be nine weeks.  And we are only two short weeks from double digits! Holy crap, time is flying by!

 

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P.S.

…added a baby belly page due to popular demand. 😉  This one’s for you, Michaela!

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