Well we found out what the gender is today! But to back up a minute, last week one of my co-workers suggested I announce via cake or something, and I really loved the idea, so I ordered a white cupcake-cake for today, with the understanding that I would call in and tell them what the gender was on my way to pick it up (on my way into work).
So at 8 am this morning Eric and I trooped down to the ultrasound place and waited what seemed like forever as she checked on different measurements and stuff. Actually, I was really happy to see that the baby still had a heartbeat, and we were both excited to see two arms, two legs, a head, etc. The big thing was that it looked like a baby, and not some half-formed mutant thing, which is what I’ve been worried about.. probably because I slept on a heating pad early on and I was afraid I had melted the baby or caused some sort of deformity or something. But no, all healthy and normal.
So finally the grand announcement. She gave us the chance to guess based on whether we thought we saw a hamburger or hotdog. Neither of us really knew what we were looking at, or where to look for that matter, so we kinda both were like, umm… a hotdog?
Nope! It’s a baby girl! (With a really cute profile, I might add!)
Just look at that little nose!
Well after Eric and I parted ways to head off to work I received a text from one of his co-workers who wanted a hint. Apparently someone brought in cookies and they just needed to know what color sprinkles. I thought it would be more fun for Eric to be surprised when he got there than to be asked, then told, “wait one second” before he got to see their little surprise, so I told her and a few minutes later received a text back:
I find it amusing that the first person I called to tell what the gender was, was the girl at the bakery. Fortunately she was ready and waiting, so as soon as I told her who I was she said, “what are we having??” 20 minutes later I picked up my cupcake-cake and finished my trip to work and strolled in about an hour and a half after my usual start time. But all people saw was that I had a box and was glowing.
My two co-workers suggested I bring it to the big weekly meeting with nearly everyone in our department (about 15 people).
While yes, it does seem silly for me to have a reveal for everyone else, it was great to get it all over and done with in one big swoop with delicious sugar on top. I swear, the whole way to the bakery and then to work all I could think about was cupcakes. In fact, I’m not sure what I was more excited about all weekend, learning the gender or knowing I was getting a cupcake Monday morning (kidding!) (though the cupcake was second on my mind) (something tells me this child will want cupcakes for birthdays instead of cake or, Eric’s preference, donuts)
Anyway, once everyone got to the meeting our boss said, “well I think this is the most important thing on the agenda so let’s have it” so they took a vote on what the gender was going to be, then I popped the lid to pink “It’s a girl!” and there was loud applause and cheers.
It was a wonderful way to start Monday off. I may have been the only one to sit and enjoy a cupcake for the rest of the meeting, but I didn’t care. I earned my yummy sweet delectableness 🙂 (one other guy did eventually take one, and then everyone grabbed one at the end of the meeting)
So lastly, I did manage to snap a quick photo before heading off to our appointment this morning, since I’ve been really remiss in capturing the belly growth.
Lot’s of pictures this time!!
I didn’t think I was the worrying type, but between worrying about the baby not kicking hard enough that I can feel it yet (which I shouldn’t be worried about because both the OB Gyn last session, and the ultrasound technician this time commented on how the baby is very active and when I start feeling it I’ll have a handful in me), to worrying about whether it is a healthy baby and not something else, to my weight gain (which was too much last meeting but now I haven’t gained anything in the last week and a half), I seem to be a ball of worriedness. I really just need to take a deep breath and treat this like I do everything else in my life which is, God will provide and Whatever is meant to be will be. I guess I feel like it’s all on my shoulders and if something goes wrong it will be all my fault.
So Lisa, just focus on being happy, excited, and eating healthy.
(As I write this I’m eating my second cupcake) (just sayin’…)
In case anyone thinks that having a baby will change a relationship, yes, yes it will. But not for the better. Having a baby will not make a turbulent environment better. However, if you have built a strong foundation, have open lines of communication, have a trust in the Father above that everything is going to be alright, then you can sit back and watch the change in your household as the pregnancy progresses, as I am doing.
Eric and I have come a long way over the past few years, with lots of ups and downs. Over the past two we’ve grown continually closer and have developed a deeper connection and understanding of each other (my belief is that this truly began when I started reading the Bible). The wedding caused quite a bit of stress, but we gradually worked through it. Finding out I was pregnant caused some more stress, but we’ve worked through that as well.
And now what I’m experiencing is watching my husband develop nurturing instincts.. and I hope he’s witnessing the same in me. We’re both nesting, and it’s kinda cute.
For example, he’s become preoccupied with getting debt paid off before the baby arrives, starting to buy things that we’ll need, asking advice of his colleagues, and looking for bargains on diapers. Additionally he is no longer suggesting I find cheaper alternatives to the expensive fresh foods I want, but is actually helping me find other good healthy snacks, even if it’s a little pricey for something that he would never eat (i.e. whole grain bread, mixed nuts, brussel sprouts, etc).
And yesterday, after a long day at work then a long evening of grocery shopping, I sat down to struggle with my boots (shoes have become quite the chore!) and he came over and took them off for me. It was so endearing and touching.
This is not to say we don’t still have our spats. We do, but a change in mentality goes a long way. Where before when he would snap at me when he became overwhelmed and stressed out by something stupid I did, and I might have lashed out in defense, now I try to take a submissive approach and let him calm down. And he always apologizes for snapping at me. And we always forgive each other, whether we say it outloud or not.
It’s not always easy taking the calm, submissive or passive approach, but with God’s help, when I do things always go much better. The rift is smoothed faster and better than the fight-it-out-then-let-time-heal-the-ugly-words-we-said approach. In addition, we usually learn something about each other and our love actually grows deeper for it.
So I’d say we’re on a good path to a happy home.
Unfortunately for most families, though, the submissive wife tactic has been banished as being demeaning to women. What so many fail to recognize is that it takes so much more strength to be submissive and supportive, than to be selfish. Sure I could lay into Eric with some ugly and hurtful words because he hurt my feelings, and in the past I have. And I probably will lose my temper again someday and do it again. But to actually take control of your own actions and words, control your anger and tongue, and remain calm when you want to throw a temper tantrum like a small child is much more difficult, but also more rewarding. Especially when the conflict is resolved so much faster, and the other person is truly sorry for hurting your feelings, and they in turn want to treat you even better because they have a new respect for you, that you earned instead of demanded. And it goes both ways.. I might crankily lay into Eric for something and when he doesn’t reciprocate I feel small instead of powerful, and he looks so much sweeter for not sinking to my level and all I want to do is apologize and hug him.
Research has shown that women feel loved when the man shows affection, and men feel loved when the woman respects him. When this all goes perfectly, the husband feels respected by his wife who is submitting to his authority (not abuse, authority and final decision making abilities) instead of arguing or second-guessing him, and the husband wants to show his love for his wife in gestures so she feels special and loved, and a reciprocal pattern is formed. Not surprisingly, this is all according to God’s plan.
I know with every fiber of my being that Eric is going to be with me forever, not only because he says it and shows it in his willingness to resolve every fight (no matter how bad, as they have been very very bad in the past), but also because I know his beliefs and values.
We’re far from perfect, but what we have is perfect to me. We’re best friends and truly enjoy each other’s company, and my hope is that our baby learns how to behave like a rational and loving person from us, and we don’t unleash another monster into the world, as it seems there are enough of those already.
I know Eric’s going to be a great dad, because he’s already a great husband.
I had my first encounter with someone knowing I was pregnant just by looking, this weekend.
It went down something like this:
At a party, chillin’, stuffin’ the face.. I get up and walk across the room to go get something out of my purse. I overhear Eric’s mom telling someone, “Eric and Lisa are expecting their first child,” with the response, “I saw.” I turn and ask, “who posted something? I didn’t think anyone had put anything on Facebook or anything yet” and the accosted replied, “I could tell from across the room.”
To which I think I mumbled, “oh… really?”
You must understand that I’m not often around people who don’t already know, and also before this I had had the jokes of, “you eatin’ well?” and stuff like that. So in my mind I still look pudgy, not preggy.
My best friend back in Texas sent me a big box of her old maternity clothes, as she is, as she puts it, “done.”
So I got clothes! Well, tops. Of various seasonality and professionalism or casualism.
And today my co-workers and I went out to lunch followed by a shopping trip. Trying to stay under budget, we went to Ross and then a Goodwill and I spent a total of $25 for two pairs of jeans, a pair of corduroy pants and shorts, all in excellent or new condition.
With my vast new wardrobe (at a grand dollar ring of less than $60) I’ve decided I need to commandeer my husband’s closet. He has rebutted with, “you already have the walk-in closet. Go find somewhere else and leave my Ikea cupboard alone.”
I had finished my lunch of Butternut Squash Ravioli Lean Cuisine, but needed something more. I looked at my carrots and my banana, I sipped my water, I nudged my unopened apple sauce out of the way as I rooted through my desk. But alas, nothing looked like, “the thing that I need this very moment.”
Chocolate and other candy is readily available, as several people have it out on their desks, but that too didn’t seem appealing.
I perused the fridge, standing with the door wide open and taking note of every item in it, despite the fact that I’m at work and nothing in there belongs to me.
Then I went for a walk with my trusty debit card in hand.
On my way down to the cafeteria I decided that what I needed was chocolate milk. Oh luscious, filling, delicious chocolate milk. Annnnnnd… what… ?
So I bought my chocolate milk and swung by the vending machines, and there, surrounded by bright and shiny lights, glowing in the top left corner with my name written all over it, were Cheez-its. I had to have those Cheez-its. But the stupid machine wouldn’t take credit, only dollars and change.
I hustled back to my desk, dug for any and all change I could find, and would you believe I was five cents short.
To have my desperate needs so close in hand, and so far away… I could feel the baby slumping into depression.
Then one of my co-workers, a very very nice one I might add, came back to her desk. I explained my dilemma and she gave me a nickel. I thanked her for saving me from my distress as I hurried back down the hall.
So my afternoon was made whole again with my Cheez-its and chocolate milk. Now I’m full, and happy, and I’m pretty sure the baby is contentedly asleep.
Phew! That was close.
(apparently not the only one who likes this combo… there’s an entire FB page dedicated to it!) (weird)
Seeing other pregnant women is completely natural. You think, wow, look at their belly, they’re making a little person in there. And it’s totally normal. It’s no big deal, it happens all the time.
But all of a sudden it’s not someone else, it’s me. It’s my belly that’s starting to look like a pregnant belly, and it’s just strange.
One of my co-workers had made the comment about how your belly feels different, it’s hard. And now I understand what she means. Before my belly was squishy and it really just felt like fat was accumulating on my mid-section (hence part of the disbelief in actual pregnancy). But now I feel it.. it’s harder to the touch. It doesn’t squish like fat.
It also doesn’t jiggle, as I discovered when showing off my belly to Eric. I was twisting around trying to make it jiggle or move, and it didn’t. It just sits right there like some sort of partial rubber ball or something. It’s also starting to become difficult to bend in the middle, though it is still possible. Just a little nuisance and some worry that I might squish the little baby in there 🙂
So… it’s starting to become real. I’m actually pregnant. Oh and I got to hear the heartbeat on Friday which was comforting.. knowing it’s still alive in there.
The doctor said she could hear it kicking around, but I still haven’t felt any movement myself. But as long as I know it’s alive and well, I’m in no rush to start feeling all the disturbances in there, which I’m sure is another crazy experience.
Here’s a pic I took of myself buying maternity clothes (the pants were starting to become an issue) – I still just look fat and not pregnant, but the belly is definitely noticeable now.
I’ve been basically on my own since leaving home at 18 to head off to college. My mom said, “ok, you’re a big girl now, you can take care of yourself” and set me free to manage my time and expenses on my own.
That being said, she did pay for the bulk of college through a promise fund that I just had to show admissions each year, so I was really only responsible for coming up with cash to pay for fees, books, etc. And the first year I lived in the dorms, so it wasn’t until the second year that I had to also figure out rent and grocery money.
But in general it was a great learning experience for a fledgling learning to fly on her own. And I’ve been one of the lucky ones who has managed to continue flying alone and never been forced to move back home.
The reason I share this is, I’ve felt pretty darn independent for a large portion of my life, and with the confidence gained, have been pretty comfortable in this self-sufficiency.
To boot I moved away, far far away, from home. I live in PA while she’s back in TX, so I only see family once a year. I’ve accomplished all the normal adult things that are supposed to make you feel all grown up (get a real job, get married, buy a house, etc.). And mom has mostly been an ear to listen and the occasional word of wisdom to push me in the right direction.
And yet all of a sudden, when thinking about introducing my own little fledgling into the world, my instinct is to run to mommy. I keep thinking, well once I have the baby, mom will be there to show me what to do, make sure I’m doing things right.. it’s the oddest thing. I feel utterly at a loss to think that I might be competent to manage a baby on my own.
It’s also not like I don’t have family here. Eric’s family is all here, his youngest brother went through this about two years ago, and Eric’s parents are close by and more than willing to help and teach.
But I want my mommy. I don’t know the last time that I just really wanted my mom, to give me that boost of confidence and tell me it’s all going to be alright.
I feel like I’ve stepped back in time to my own childhood, which seems counterproductive. But after hearing so many stories of people being scared of their own baby, and knowing myself how much I dislike holding other people’s newborn babies because I’m terrified I’ll break it, it seems like the best decision is to just hand all the responsibility off to someone who I know will get the job done (at least for a week before I have to pick up my adultness again). She raised me, right, and I kinda like me.