31 weeks, 31 pounds

As of Friday, I am in my 31st week of pregnancy. As of my doctor's appointment this morning, I have gained 31 pounds. Wow. Considering the fact that my doctor suggested I gain anywhere from 25-30 pounds throughout MY WHOLE PREGNANCY, I think I'm a little off track.

Baby C's heart rate is great, my blood pressure is good, and I passed the dreaded glucose test with flying colors; however, this new not-working-thus-eating-everything lifestyle is not working in my body's favor. I know I should be exercising. Every article I read, every email on pregnancy I get, every book by my bed tells me I should be exercising daily, so why is this such a difficult concept for me? My latest cravings have been avocados and peaches. I drink water by the gallon. I eat spinach daily. Yet still, I expand at a rapid pace.

Before pregnancy, I always swore I would be one of those ultra fit women to whom people say things like, "You are all belly! How do you do it?" To which I would reply," Oh, it's nothing," as if I were naturally the perfect maternity model. This is so much easier said than done. When the 2nd trimester is filled with cravings for fast food, ice cream, and donuts, the scale just doesn't lie.

Yoga is not cutting it alone and I need to get my butt outside (in the COLD) and take a walk... or something like that. If you see me in the neighborhood, wave!  I'll be the giant woman in spandex gasping for breath. 

In the Still, In the Quiet Place...

My favorite time of day has become the moments just before I fall asleep when all around me is still and dark, the dog and cat are curled at our feet, and the only sound that fills the room is that of my white noise phone app. It is in these moments, as Husband has already drifted off to sleep and I am alone with my thoughts that little C comes to life. While I hate that her Daddy can't feel her tiny kicks yet, I can't help but love this special time we have with just the two of us. For just a little while, she moves and I am the only one who can respond. 

It is strange to think that she has been inside me for 31 weeks now. In the time it takes for the blistering summer to fade to fall and then to this bleak, gray winter, I have grown a little girl to almost full term. We only have a couple months left at best before her arrival and our worlds are forever altered. Only a few more weeks for me to scrub baseboards, and make burp cloths, and start smocking again. Only a few more weeks of feeling those tiny kicks inside me instead of watching them in real life before my eyes. For just a few more evenings, I share a special bond with my daughter that no one else in the world can, and for this, I embrace the quiet. 

When the Bow Breaks...

At 4:03 a.m., I was jolted awake by a falling sensation accompanied by the sound of cracking wood. Thinking I was having yet another crazy pregnancy dream, Husband tried to calm me back to sleep; but, as I hoisted myself off our bed for a bathroom trip, I felt the bed drop and heard the cracking sound again. 

Yep. The pregnant girl broke the bed. And not while doing anything fun.

Upon inspection, we realized that the sideboard of our platform bed had splintered around the metal piece that once attached it to the headboard, sending my side of the bed to the ground. While this is most likely the result of having disassembled and reassembled this bed for multiple moves and having misplaced some center support pieces that are apparently of great importance, it was nonetheless a little ironic and insulting that it was my side that broke and not that of my 6'4" husband. Really? Let the fat jokes commence...

Downward Dog, Outward Belly

Let me preface this by saying that, while I once considered myself to be "athletic" and "in shape," that ship has sailed. This former dancer, cheerleader, and 400 meter dash sprinter has turned into an occasional, less often than not, exerciser. I now sporadically walk, do a push up and some crunches, stretch before bed and call it a day. I consider cleaning and laundry cardio. I do not enjoy working out in gyms (as my thrice cancelled Y membership confirms). Classes make me feel inferior and super self conscious and, as narcissistic as it may sound, I am convinced that I am being watched and judged while I use the weight lifting equipment because I must be doing it wrong.

So, I decided that in preparation for Catherine's arrival (and because I would prefer to not be the size of a house), I would at least attempt to get back in shape. 

Thus I did a search for "prenatal workout dvd" on Amazon, read some reviews and settled on The Perfect Pregnancy Workout, Volumes 1 and 2. At least then my awkwardness will be viewed only by the dog and cat and I can pause and take a water break at will. Having ordered these well over a month ago and having carried them in my luggage over holiday travels as if that would entice me to open them, I thought I should finally take off the shrink wrap and give Volume 2 a try. "No Volume 1?" you may ask. Well, Volume 2 is yoga where Volume 1 is body sculpting designed by a Cirque de Soleil star. Scary. I think I'll ease into that one.

Yoga is instructed by scary body sculptor's equally buff, but less intense twin sister. She is much more my style. The entire workout lasts one hour and is broken down into beginner and advanced versions of each pose. I took a hit to my pride and went with the beginner versions this time which include a chair for assistance. It was a good decision.

The workout begins with simple prayer poses done while seated in a chair (for the beginners) but then increases in difficulty as you balance, stretch, and squat with a protruding belly added to the mix. It. is. not. easy. Downward dog is a little more difficult with Catherine hanging in there for the ride. In case you would like a visual, I am now in my 28th week:

28 weeks (12-31-10)

I don't have unrealistic goals when it comes to pregnancy weight. I will gain weight. I will not look like I always have. I will struggle with fitting into pre-pregnancy clothes after Catherine is born. But, hopefully, with yoga and a little cardio (more than the usual household chores), I will prepare myself to be the healthiest mommy I can be and maybe make labor a little easier on myself. And maybe, just maybe, this will cure my case of Ken doll syndrome. Who knows? I may love this series so much that I order the The Perfect Postnatal Workout for later!

Case of the Ken Doll Leg

If you grew up playing with Barbies, you know that 1) Barbie could never keep her shoes on and 2) Ken could never seem to keep his leg attached. Dad performed countless emergency surgeries on Ken to reattach his leg after a dance party, impromptu wedding, or motorcycle ride left his detached limb helplessly hanging in his pleated pants.

As my muscles, joints, and ligaments loosen to prepare for Catherine's arrival, it seems that my right hip has decided to no longer contain my leg. I have Ken doll syndrome, as I twist and stretch each night in an attempt to perform the same emergency reattachment surgery that worked wonders on Ken all those years. I was prepared for the weight gain, the countless bathroom breaks, and the occasional nausea followed by a need for Krispy Kreme donuts. I was not prepared for joint detachment. 

So today, I purchased the Snoogle pillow as I am determined to sleep for more than an hour at a time without waking up in intense pain and with the fear that I will not be able to snap my leg into place in time for my sixth bathroom break. I'll report back soon. Hopefully, my hip will fair better than Ken's.

The Name Game

What's in a name? Since the beginning of time, we as a human race have assigned names to people, to places, to things, to actions, and to concepts. These names have become identities, social constructs,  forever recorded in history. Think of the great thinkers, the great artists, the great authors of our past and the weight that is now associated with those names. A name is not just a name.

So, it is with this in mind, that we began naming our daughter. Talk about pressure. The name we assign our daughter will be part of her identity for the rest of her life. This name should suit an adorable five year old, a blossoming preteen, a confident teenager, and a driven young adult. It should look nice whether it is written in crayon or printed at the head of a resume. It should sound assertive when introduced with a firm handshake, but feminine when shared with a potential mate. It should be classic, honor her familial heritage, and also forge a new path.

We thought long and hard, making list after list of potential names, writing them out on paper, admiring the monograms, researching the language origins and meanings. We thought of names that are important to us, names that evoke a certain feeling. Finally, after many months, we have chosen a name for our daughter. And as we talk to my growing belly and address her daily by name, we know it suits her. In just a few months, we will welcome Catherine Elizabeth into this world where she will begin her life's journey and define her name as her own.

24 weeks (12-6-10)

According to Deb

November 28th, 2008, while Husband and I were enjoying a blissful honeymoon in Punta Cana, my Aunt Debbie lost her battle with melanoma. Notice I didn't post this on the 28th as that day seems to stand still each year, but I wanted to pay tribute to the woman who meant so much to me. Loss is a part of life. We learn to appreciate the days we have with one another. We learn to love fully. We learn to grieve. And these past years have changed me. They have changed my family.

Growing up, Aunt Debbie earned the title "Crazy Aunt Debbie," not because she was insane, but because she could turn the most mundane situation into a party. Debbie had a way of making you feel special on the most ordinary of days whether she was encouraging my shoe addiction by hours of dress up in her closet of Jimmy Choos and Manolos or teaching my sister the art of painting, she was helping mold her nieces into the women they would become. We begged to have her babysit us, knowing a night with Deb promised makeup and make believe. We marveled at her home filled with masterpieces of local artists as well as her own. We looked forward to her famous Auburn tailgates in the fall and to her fabulous white Christmas trees and brunch during the holidays. I developed a love of sterling silver, of artfully wrapped gift giving, and of finding the perfect shoes for any occasion. Quite simply, Deb made life more fun.

At Debbie's service, my dad recalled a childhood story from a family vacation. As they traveled down the road, Dad and Debbie in the backseat picking at one another as only brother and sister do, she took his shoe and threw it out of the window. It bounced down the highway into oblivion. "Terry threw his shoe out the window," she tattled. Dad laughed as he remembered this day, recalling that every time he saw a single shoe in the middle of the road, he imagined how it got there and he thought of his sister. And now, whenever I am driving on an average day and notice a single shoe on the side of the road, I think of a young Debbie on a family road trip and I can't help but smile.

It is impossible not to shed tears when remembering her, because loss, while a part of life, is never easy and frankly, never fair; but I know my life is richer because she was a part of it. Through my tears, I smile, because although she is not physically here, she is everywhere I look.

Deb is everywhere in my home. Her artwork fills each room, her shoes fill my closet, and I carry her purse each day. Each year, decorating for Christmas makes me think of her and I smile. I have a small "fabulous white" Christmas tree in my kitchen and its ornaments are framed copies of her paintings. My daughter won't know her Aunt Debbie, but she'll know her. She'll know every story my family shares, every detail of every painting in our home. She'll know that sterling silver makes any meal special. She'll know that you're never truly dressed until you pick out the perfect shoes. She'll know that Chanel No. 5 is timeless. She'll know that being eccentric is a good thing. She'll know to laugh about the small stuff and lean on family through the big stuff. She'll know her because I will never forget her.

My life is certainly more fabulous because Deb was in it and I live every day hoping that I live my life according to Deb's philosophies. I hope that when I leave this world, it is better than it was when I found it. I hope that those I love know how much I truly love and appreciate them. I hope that I can make at least one person's life special because the relationships we share and the legacy we leave are what life is all about. Love and be loved and smile when you see lonely shoes along the highway.

My BSC Graduation, May 2006