Columbus, OH, Louisville, KY, and Destin, FL
Aug 31: 29 weeks. Size of a butternut Squash. And I get an Ohio chapter Baby Shower. I kind of failed Baby Registry Class because I was thinking like a New Yorker and assumed everyone would prefer to shop online. I registered for a cloth diaper service (gift certificates one click away!), at Target, and at Babies R Us (the website of which frustrated me to the point that there were only two items on that registry). So, when my guests actually drove to Babies R Us they were more than a little confused. Somehow, though, these friends and family transcended my poor registry skills, and I ended up with some powerfully cute stuff. People will really rally for New Life. It's kinda beautiful.
Sept 1: Some pictures from my shower yesterday. These are Grandma's gifts. There was a lot there, and she claims to have used restraint. She's very enthusiastic about her first grandbaby. She started shopping the day I started menstruating.
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| Mom said she's had this gift for years. I got my first period in 8th grade. Do you think she could have saved a gift for that long? I do. |
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| My mom crocheted this hat and diaper cover for her granddaughter because I told her I'm decorating her room with a lady bug theme. This is, absolutely, no question, no contest, my favorite Froo gift so far. The hat has antennae! Antennae! |
Sept 2: I know I shouldn't go on record with this announcement because as soon as I do, Mother Nature will prove smite me, but I think my boobs size has stabilized in the last few weeks. Of course, it won't last, but to every month I don't have to buy a new bra, I say "Fantastits!"
Sept 3:
Sept 4: Grab your popcorn, folk, it's the premiere of Little Fetus Froo Froo's first fetal movement video. It's less than a minute long. It's starts out with just a few ripples, and ends with a pretty significant tidal wave. This is my first pregnancy, so I don't know how typical this is. Comments welcome.
Sept 5: The number of body parts that I recognize as my own is dwindling. I caught a glimpse of my right inner thigh in the bathroom mirror yesterday and mistook it for marine life. What are those purple veins preparing for?!?! One mustn't dwell...
Sept 6: Arrive in Destin, FL. In my bathing suit, I look like a small grey whale. With the hump on the wrong side.
Sept 7: 30 weeks. Froof is the length of a cucumber, girth of a cabbage.
Sept 10: Yes, I heard about Princess Kate. Yes, I think that's what I had. I really feel for her. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is a royal pain...
Sept 11: I know I joke a lot. This blog is intended to be irreverent. But, lest you doubt it, dear reader, allow me to assert that I am in love with Little Fetus Froo Froo, and I even love my unique and sometimes unpleasant pregnancy. No matter how sick or faint or scared I am, I feel blessed, chosen, lucky, and utterly in awe over the miracle that is new life.
Froo, if you read this someday, know that I have a silly sense of humor. So does your dad. We hope that you share it, too, or at least, that you appreciate ours. But do not ever doubt how seriously we are invested in you, how deliberately we worked to get you, how very very important you are, even now, unseen and unheard. We already love you. We planned carefully for you. We intend to protect the sh--- bejeezus out of you! You are a dream come true and I will never ever forget it.
This pregnancy has had its challenges and it will likely be my last. And since the very first day I suspected you had come into existence, I have yearned to have you on the outside. I am eager to see you and hold you in arms, close to my chest, my neck, my heart. Thank you for choosing us as your parents.
Sept 12: I do not usually swim in the ocean. I lived near the Jersey shore for most of the summer and enjoyed the beach often, but rarely entered the water beyond knee-height. Call me a scaredy-cat, but it's just not my thing. I've never been a strong swimmer, I cringe at the thought of sea animals brushing up against me under murky water, and I'm terrified of undertow. But, in Destin, Florida, the crystal clear turquoise water beckons.
Sept 3:
Sept 4: Grab your popcorn, folk, it's the premiere of Little Fetus Froo Froo's first fetal movement video. It's less than a minute long. It's starts out with just a few ripples, and ends with a pretty significant tidal wave. This is my first pregnancy, so I don't know how typical this is. Comments welcome.
Sept 6: Arrive in Destin, FL. In my bathing suit, I look like a small grey whale. With the hump on the wrong side.
Sept 7: 30 weeks. Froof is the length of a cucumber, girth of a cabbage.
Sept 10: Yes, I heard about Princess Kate. Yes, I think that's what I had. I really feel for her. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is a royal pain...
Sept 11: I know I joke a lot. This blog is intended to be irreverent. But, lest you doubt it, dear reader, allow me to assert that I am in love with Little Fetus Froo Froo, and I even love my unique and sometimes unpleasant pregnancy. No matter how sick or faint or scared I am, I feel blessed, chosen, lucky, and utterly in awe over the miracle that is new life.
Froo, if you read this someday, know that I have a silly sense of humor. So does your dad. We hope that you share it, too, or at least, that you appreciate ours. But do not ever doubt how seriously we are invested in you, how deliberately we worked to get you, how very very important you are, even now, unseen and unheard. We already love you. We planned carefully for you. We intend to protect the sh--- bejeezus out of you! You are a dream come true and I will never ever forget it.
This pregnancy has had its challenges and it will likely be my last. And since the very first day I suspected you had come into existence, I have yearned to have you on the outside. I am eager to see you and hold you in arms, close to my chest, my neck, my heart. Thank you for choosing us as your parents.
Sept 12: I do not usually swim in the ocean. I lived near the Jersey shore for most of the summer and enjoyed the beach often, but rarely entered the water beyond knee-height. Call me a scaredy-cat, but it's just not my thing. I've never been a strong swimmer, I cringe at the thought of sea animals brushing up against me under murky water, and I'm terrified of undertow. But, in Destin, Florida, the crystal clear turquoise water beckons.
And after a few hours on the beach, in an effort to evade sunburn (and heartburn), I decide to go out and bob in the large but gentle waves. It is divine. I bob, and float, and execute beautiful under-water grande jetés. My heartburn subsides and my skin is cooled by the water. Why have I been so scared of the ocean, I think? This is amazing!
...
...
There are a few phrases a pregnant woman never needs to hear, and among them are the words:
"Get out of the water! GET OUT OF THE WATER!" This, shouted from a man, in full sprint along the shore.
I do not waste time wondering if it was lightening or undertow. I find deep within my muscle memory, a respectable, if not Olympic, freestyle stroke and haul ass (and belly) to shore. I find the sand beneath my feet and rise up facing a growing crowd of beach-goers peering into the water behind me. Some have cameras. I turn to face the waters just in time to see a person-length, wide, dark fish figure moving stealthily underwater, precisely in the path of my moments-ago gleeful bobbing. My vagina nearly collapses. What is it?, we all murmur, as the shouting man continues up the shoreline and other swimmers scramble to sand and safety. I'll never know for sure.
Later, my friends remark that I could have been that fish's lunch.
Yeah, and that bastard would've gotten a "Two-for-one meal deal."
I will not be going back in the ocean again.
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"Get out of the water! GET OUT OF THE WATER!" This, shouted from a man, in full sprint along the shore.
I do not waste time wondering if it was lightening or undertow. I find deep within my muscle memory, a respectable, if not Olympic, freestyle stroke and haul ass (and belly) to shore. I find the sand beneath my feet and rise up facing a growing crowd of beach-goers peering into the water behind me. Some have cameras. I turn to face the waters just in time to see a person-length, wide, dark fish figure moving stealthily underwater, precisely in the path of my moments-ago gleeful bobbing. My vagina nearly collapses. What is it?, we all murmur, as the shouting man continues up the shoreline and other swimmers scramble to sand and safety. I'll never know for sure.
Later, my friends remark that I could have been that fish's lunch.
Yeah, and that bastard would've gotten a "Two-for-one meal deal."
I will not be going back in the ocean again.
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this entry, please share it with a friend. You can also become a follower and receives new entries by email.
-Bean & Bam
Great post and wow -t hat tidal wave is really sumpin'. Loving the journey.
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