The only one...

Last night I took my first pregnancy exercise class after work.  I should have been doing this all along and maybe I wouldn’t have put on so much weight already, but I digress.  The class was at Riverside Wellness Center and it’s free for those who deliver there, so I figured why not!  The class had about 8 other girls in it, and besides the girl who is due in 2 weeks, we were all mostly due in November and December.  It was nice to “size” everyone up and know that I’m not bigger than I think I am and seem to be right on target for now!  (“For now” being the operative words here, since I’m definitely not done growing yet!).

 

During warm up, which finally got my blood pumping for the first time in months, we did introductions.  The girl who was due in two weeks started, and we went around the room saying when we were due, whether or not this was our first child, and the gender of the baby.  As the girls went around, each and every one of them was able to say “This is a…” and spill the gender while proudly rubbing their protruding belly.  Finally, it became my turn to introduce myself (I was the newbie), and I said “I’m Leah, this is my first, I’m due December 12^th – and we don’t know what we’re having.”  I said it almost sheepishly because in that moment I felt like the ONLY person in the whole world who wasn’t able to proudly tell the gender of their child.  I got a resounding “I don’t know how you do it!” and, “I need to know what kind of clothes to buy!” to which I replied, “This isn’t my doing!  If it were up to me, I would know already!  It’s my husband’s fault!  He doesn’t want to know.” 

 

It’s funny how there’s more people out there now who couldn’t do the whole waiting thing.  I hardly ever get a pat on the back, but sometimes I will and it does help; however, I go through phases where I get so antsy and just want to know what this baby is so I can stop referring to my child as “IT”.  I’d love to rub my belly and talk to this little one by using their name.  I guess that’s the difference between me and Patrick – he can wait, and I can’t.

 

There is an envelope in our house right now that contains a slip of paper with the gender on it.  It was given to us by the ultrasound tech in Ludington after my spill in Meijer’s.  She sealed it, taped it and signed it so that if either of us were to open it, the other would know right away.  I think this is the cruelest form of punishment on the face of the earth.  I hate surprises and this thing is staring me in the face every day.  Some days I swear I think I hear it calling to me.  “Mommmmmmmmmmmmmy…don’t you want to know what color clothes to buy me?”  “Mommmmmmmmmmmy, don’t you want to know what name you’re going to use”.  It’s awful. 

 

Some days I don’t think that December is going to get here fast enough!

Rejuvenation

This past weekend was our 6^th wedding anniversary and to celebrate we spent the weekend at the Inn on Pamlico Sound in Cape Hatteras, NC.  The Inn was the most fantastic place for rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation for us.  We considered it to be our anniversary trip and Babymoon all in one.  (Babymoon is the new term for first time expecting parents to get away.  Clever, I know). 

 

The Inn was right on the water, and our room had a breathtaking view.  We spent the mornings out on the deck, sipping coffee in the hunter green rocking chairs.  It felt as if the world stood still and we were the only occupants.  We had breakfast on the decks outside, served by the Inn staff.  I can already tell that feasting on the homemade muffins and breakfast goodies will cause for an even larger bum, but I don’t care.  The staff and Innkeepers were more than hospitable and did everything in their power to ensure we had no worries while we were there.  At one point, Steve, the owner, walked by Patrick and me as we sat on the couch reading the paper and said, “You guys really need to do something about that stress level.  I’m starting to get worried about you!”

 

The weekend was the perfect way to spend our last few months together as only a couple.  My fantastic husband even ordered up a bottle of Sparkling Cider for us to share to celebrate, since I can’t partake in the consumption of the real stuff.  We spent the evenings in the oversized Jacuzzi tub, complete with candle light provided by Patrick, and lounged around during the day.  I could not think of a better way to spend a weekend with the man that I am completely head over heels in love with.

 

Life is back to reality, and our daily routines will now consist of washing baby clothes, setting up the crib, painting the nursery, and preparing our lives (and our house) for the arrival of this little one.  There is no one on this earth that I would rather be going through this with, and I can’t wait to see what the next lifetime has to offer us.

Unrealistic Expectations

 

Where do I draw the line between what’s realistically expected of my pregnant self, and what’s not?  I have become obsessed with watching shows like “A Baby Story”, “Surviving Motherhood”, “Bringing Home Baby”, and the like.  Nothing would be wrong with that except for the fact that I watch these beautiful women on TV having pain free, or little pain, labors and deliveries – all while their hair is done up and their make-up isn’t running. 

 

I have always had a serious problem with my self image.  Even as a sticklike teenager I could stare at myself in the mirror and see nothing but fat.  Now, as I’m steadily expanding outward, it kills me when people say “OH!  Look at how big you are!” or “I think you got bigger over the weekend!”, and the best one yet “You’re definitely filling out in your face already!”  All things to which I reply “I am pregnant you know”, with an ever so slight roll of the eyes.  I’m just shy of 5 months, and of course my belly is getting bigger, there’s a growing human inside of it…what do they expect?

 

I really have unrealistic expectations of how I should look now, and even worse expectations of what I should look like after delivery.  All of this stems from watching beautiful women like Heidi Klum show up on the red carpet mere days after giving birth.  I guess if I had a personal trainer and chef, I may be able to look like that.  But alas, I will be stuck with my cottage cheese butt until I can find the time to get off it and go to the gym.

 

I really love being pregnant, and as my body changes I am becoming more receptive to the extra weight and elastic waistbands in my clothes.  I just have to realize that I’m not going to make it back into my size 4’s right after birth, and in fact, may never fit into them again.  It’s a chance I’m willing to take to be a mother…as nothing is more rewarding.

Unrealistic Expectations

Where do I draw the line between what’s realistically expected of my pregnant self, and what’s not?  I have become obsessed with watching shows like “A Baby Story”, “Surviving Motherhood”, “Bringing Home Baby”, and the like.  Nothing would be wrong with that except for the fact that I watch these beautiful women on TV having pain free, or little pain, labors and deliveries – all while their hair is done up and their make-up isn’t running. 

 

I have always had a serious problem with my self image.  Even as a sticklike teenager I could stare at myself in the mirror and see nothing but fat.  Now, as I’m steadily expanding outward, it kills me when people say “OH!  Look at how big you are!” or “I think you got bigger over the weekend!”, and the best one yet “You’re definitely filling out in your face already!”  All things to which I reply “I am pregnant you know”, with an ever so slight roll of the eyes.  I’m just shy of 5 months, and of course my belly is getting bigger, there’s a growing human inside of it…what do they expect?

 

I really have unrealistic expectations of how I should look now, and even worse expectations of what I should look like after delivery.  All of this stems from watching beautiful women like Heidi Klum show up on the red carpet mere days after giving birth.  I guess if I had a personal trainer and chef, I may be able to look like that.  But alas, I will be stuck with my cottage cheese butt until I can find the time to get off it and go to the gym.

 

I really love being pregnant, and as my body changes I am becoming more receptive to the extra weight and elastic waistbands in my clothes.  I just have to realize that I’m not going to make it back into my size 4’s right after birth, and in fact, may never fit into them again.  It’s a chance I’m willing to take to be a mother…as nothing is more rewarding.