Beat of Baby’s Own Drum

Last week Thursday was my first pre-natal appointment with my family doctor. And guess what boys and girls – we heard the baby’s heartbeat!! It’s actually feeling real. Like there’s really a little person growing inside of me.

The interesting story though was my baby’s ability to overcome odds. I am such a proud parent. Here’s the setup: The doctor trying his best to manage my expectations on whole heartbeat thing.

Doctor: “So it looks like you’re about 10 weeks and 5 days. I’m going to try to hear the baby’s heartbeat but I’ve never heard it in a baby that young. I had a patient here earlier that was further along than you were and we didn’t find the heartbeat.”

Me: Blank look. “But you will try right?”

Doctor: “Of course! I just don’t want you to be disappointed. The baby just developed the heart about a week ago. And the baby is so small. It will be hard to find.”

Me: Blank look. “Are we going to do this now or later?”

As I laid there with the gooey stuff on my “baby holding area” I started my prepared motivational speech to the little one. I actually prepared said speech while ignoring the doctor’s cautionary thoughts. Willing the baby on in true soccer mom form I began my internal mom-to-baby motivation. “This is your time baby. Show this guy what you can do!”

Through all the muffles and that’s-not-it’s was a fast little baby heartbeat! I was and am so excited. There’s a baby in there.

P.S. This Friday will be my first ultrasound appointment. Baby and I are resting up for that performance.

Killer Animation

As you know, I am always on a quest for new information on this whole pregnancy and parenthood thing.

Last night, I happen to spend a bit of time on Babyzone.com browsing pregnancy articles. I happen to come across their series of animated videos. I watched the four short videos on fetal development, amniocentesis, C-section, delivery and the epidural.

I wasn't ready for that.

Although they are animations versus the real life thing - something you would probably see in a grade 7 sex ed class or something, it was freaking scary in a "you want me to do that!" kinda way. While this is not new information, and certainly I understand where babies come from and all, it's a completely different story when you and your body are the subject.

Blogger wasn't cooperating. Unfortunately I wasn't able to embed the video. But please visit the lnk and watch the video. Tell me if I'm nutts. Am I the only one thinking you're gonna do that to make that come out of down there? Kinda like my va ja ja the way she is.

Ethics in Apartment Hunting

You may or may not know that I'm looking for a new place right now. My little studio in downtown Toronto isn't really equipped for the growing family, if you know what I mean. Check out my previous post for more on that.

So I am actively looking, speaking with agents and owners, viewing units. I'm pretty close it making the move. I can taste it.

But I'm dealing with an ethical issue. I'm not mentioning to these potential landlords that I'm with child. I'm not filling them in on the fact that if all goes to plan, there will be a little, vomiting, pooping monster in the place 7 odd months from now. At this stage in the apartment search, I'm feeling like it's not really their business. Personal information. If I'm not telling friends or family, why am I telling complete stranger? Maybe I'll mention it before I sign the lease.

So I play it cool. Do I have pets? No. Do I smoke? No. I have references, good credit, first and last. I am a good potential tenant. I may be a pregnant potential tenant but I'll still be good. And I hear these babies aren't too bad at first. They don't walk into things, colour walls and vandalize until much later. And you'll love my little family by then.

No?

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s….

I’m sure there’s a stage in every woman’s pregnancy where the showing / not showing debate begins. Perhaps it starts as a sideways examination in her full length mirror. Maybe her regular staple of pants, jeans, or shirts feels a little snug around the mid-section. For some of us, there’s just that feeling.

I, myself, am still in the early stages of pregnancy. According to my calculations, I will be rounding out my first trimester in the next few weeks. But although I’m still relatively new at this whole “being pregnant” thing, I am still thoroughly obsessed with my impending bump and whether or not I’m already showing.

I gotta be honest here. I’m feeling GI-NORMOUS. It’s hard to determine whether this is physical expansion or something psychological. I’m really hoping ladies, its all in my head.

Five reasons I think I’m expanding:
1. I have nothing to wear in the morning. It feels like everything is too tight.
2. My stomach is feeling really squishy and is definitely bigger than I remember.
3. Everyone’s staring it me. I must be showing and this whole not telling people I’m pregnant thing is up.
4. I felt my butt jiggling during my volleyball game earlier. How disgusting is that!!
5. My butt is huge!

Five things I say to convince myself that I’m NOT expanding:
1. You never have anything to wear in the morning. You’ve avoided going up that extra size for a while now so don’t be surprised if your pants are tight.
2. You have had a squishy stomach since childhood (despite being an owner of the ab zapper, beach body ab workout, Tae-bo, and years of gym memberships). You don’t have a cute little flat stomach. Get over it.
3. You’re freaking hot (despite the tummy thing). No wonder people are staring at you. If your mom didn’t guess that you’re prego, considering how much she knows you, no one will.
4. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn thongs and tight spandex-like workout gear to volleyball. Look for items with more support.
5. Your butt was and is huge!

This is so conflicting!

Saturday night fever

It’s Saturday night. I am home and the BF is out of town.

I’ve ignored calls about tonight’s going ons and made lots of very creative excuses for not meeting up with friends for alcohol related bonding. For most people in my life I am holding out until 3 months before breaking the knocked up news…. or at least until my first appointment in a couple of weeks (where I will be around 11 weeks). I like to call this trimester the longest three months of my life.

Last weekend I managed to make a few evening appearances but my supersize glass of cranberry juice almost blew my cover. “Hey, what’s with that glass?” “Ah…. I got a double. Ya know…”

That was a close one.

And it’s no so much the alcohol. I can certainly get by without drinking. My friend’s aren’t complete lushes. I am just not very good at lying. I’m a terrible liar in fact. So I’d rather just avoid awkward situations and hope that it doesn’t slip.

So it’s Saturday night. I’m at home eating a tuna sandwich and watching a Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy on the Women’s network. Something tells me there’s a lot more sandwiches and W in my future.

Life is getting bigger

Forgive me internet for I have sinned. It has been over a week since my last online confession.

I have been busy over the last few days and I assure you friends, this blog has been in my thoughts. Truth-be-told that I haven’t been far away. I have still kept myself immersed in this mommy and baby stuff online. Doing a ton of online listening and less blog posting. My new mommy community on twitter (check me out at http://twitter.com/humpsNbump) has been informative, inspiring and supportive. I am reading more and more mommy blogs. A new personal fav is http://www.girlsgonechild.net/.

When I’m not twittering and blog surfing I am apartment hunting.

According to public opinion you can’t raise a baby and/or survive in a relationship with BF post baby, in a 400 sq ft studio apartment in downtown Toronto.

My first reaction…

But I love my place! I love downtown! I love the cocoon of my little apartment and everything in it! I love all the hip young people that live in my condo building and the lack of screaming children! I love that there’s a steady stream of cabs waiting on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night! Just because I’m prego does that mean that I have to throw the baby out with the bath water? Or the free-wheeling young lifestyle out with the alcohol? Does prenatal vitamins also come with doses of uncool?

While apartment searching over the past few weeks I have also been soul searching.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about the things that I want and the things that this baby will need and want. Knowing that it is my responsibility to nurture and care for the little person that is growing inside of me has made me more keen to do whatever I can to start this journey of parent-hood on the right foot.

Statement about profile pictures

Similar to a previous post on banishing overalls, I have come to another revelation as a result of my new found pregnancy. I am going on record to say that I will never replace my social media profile pictures with that always-tragic-looking, just-given-birth, in hospital-gown-holding-baby picture.

While I commend mom's who are confident enough to fore go makeup, good lighting or Chapstick in order to ensure that their cyber community is given adequate visuals, I don't think I'll be going that route.

Just as people don't really want to see you in the wedding gown pictures (new husband cropped out of frame) months, even years after the most beautiful day of your life, the same goes for the baby pic. For you and baby, we'll wait for the Glamour Shots.

The Forbidden

Why is it that when you’re told you can’t do something, you want to do it even more. Is this some kind of human instinct?!

The other day I was explaining to the BF that there’s a long list of things us pregnant women can’t do to help protect our unborn babies. It’s a virtue. I certainly don’t want to take a risk on the health of my child. But I have developed an obsession for the following things on the forbidden list that taunt me on a daily basis:

- Sushi (number one on the list and I would kill for some tuna sashimi right now)
- Cold cuts (nothing hits the spot like a turkey sub and cold iced tea)
- Soft cheeses (the smellier the better)
- Fresh Mayo with raw eggs (can’t resist the most delicious of condiments)
- Hot tubs and saunas (no need to explain why I love them but I guess the heat isn’t good for baby).
- Alcohol (no more indulging on the wine like I used to)
- Cigarettes (not that I smoke now but with all this stress I can use a puff)

The BF had no idea that carrying his child would mean such self-sacrifice so I had to let him know. We concluded that it was better me than him that had to carry this baby and remember to stay away from the bad stuff. He pointed out a great positive, “Look on the bright side. Atleast you’re be able to park in those close mommy-to-be parking spots.” Absolutely! That’s why I love him.

Maternal Instincts

So this weekend I did it. Perhaps the scariest thing for an unwed, career-driven, admittedly self-absorbed young woman to do: Tell her mommy that she’s having a baby.

I love my mom. As an only child, I feel that we have an amazing connection. We may fight and get annoyed with each other, I don’t call as much as I’m suppose to, or go to visit her often enough (she is only about 45 minutes away), but at the end of the day I know just how remarkable she is.

As soon as I found out I was prego there was a resounding thought, “I want my mommy!” I wanted to tell her right away. But although I knew she would be supportive and encouraging and helpful throughout this change in my life, I expected the worse from her first reaction. In truth, I expected a lethal combination of anger, disappointment, rage, confusion, and disgust.

It didn’t turn out like that at all. I waited all day for the perfect opportunity. I even sweetened the mood with some Diary Queen before dropping the pregnancy bomb. Mama bear was amazingly supportive.

I replay the discussion to the BF and BFF later that night and they were both shocked, knowing my high level of anxiety going in. I retold exactly what I said, my rambling about the situation, her response about making sure I was taking care of myself and healthy, her love for me and reassurance that if I’m happy than so it she. Amazing.

The entire situation says one thing to me. If I can be half the mom that mine is to me, I can handle this. There is no one more amazing than her.