And the (Beat) Goes On: Weeks 16-19

[NOTE: Please do not be alarmed at the switch between gender designations employed in my writing. Until we determine whether our little one is a boy or a girl, I have taken to alternating genders, referring to our baby as "he" one moment and "she" the next. I feel much better about this than calling my baby "it" or "they"--as though there were TWINS in there--and it just seems like less of a mouthful (keyboardful?) than typing "s/he", "he/she", or "he or she". So there.]

And the (Belly) Goes On: Week 16



As I stated in the caption when I posted this picture on Facebook, please ignore the goofy expression on my face in this picture. I wanted to share it because it makes my bump look glorious. Week 16 arrived with the discovery of a new pregnancy miracle: round ligament pain. Very uncomfortable. Especially when non-negotiable obstacles like getting out of bed or enduring a violent sneezing fit come into play. (I might have bewildered the casual observer when I would suddenly drop into a chair and brace my abdomen with both hands in anticipation of every sneeze. I don't usually bother to offer an explanation for my behavior. I think the average bear figures I'm crazy, anyway.)

*****

And the (Heartbeat) Goes on: Week 17

Week 17 was welcomed with my first appointment at Birth & Women's Center, where I'll be delivering my little pumpkin whenever he feels like it's time to say hi. (Due date is February 3rd, but I'm hoping for a late January baby, myself. Too many things happening in February...it's already a very, very eventful month.)

The center employs a staff of three Certified Nurse Midwives who facilitate prenatal appointments as well as the actual birthing process. They arrange your prenatal appointments so that you have the opportunity to develop a relationship with each CNM on staff. Our midwife for the first appointment was Beverly, and she was wonderful. She has five children of her own (three of whom were delivered at home by the birthing center's founder and head CNM, Cherie). She was more than sympathetic to my round ligament woes, offered some very helpful dietary advice (which I promptly followed when grocery shopping the next day), and completely won me over when she beamed at me as she pulled a device out of a cupboard and chirped, "Would you like to hear the heartbeat?"

I was so excited, I yelped a little bit. Daniel was actually able to take the afternoon off to come with me to the appointment, so I quickly thrust my phone into his hand before I stretched out on the table and squeeked, "Take some pictures!"

At first, I only heard my own heartbeat. It didn't sound like anything new...other than the fact that it was faster than usual. But it could've been thrumming out a rhythm to accompany The Black Eyed Peas' "Boom Boom Pow", and I wouldn't have been any more interested in anything other than hearing my baby.

Beverly pressed on my belly with one hand and slid the Doppler wand to a new position with another. And then we heard her...



I was beside myself. Beverly grinned. Daniel took pictures.

"I heard a kick," Beverly announced. A new wash of wonder and glee came over me and my beaming midwife said, "This is why I love my job. It's the look on your face." I self-consciously gave an involuntary chuckle. It created some really awful feedback on the Doppler's speaker. THAT produced a knee-jerk series of giggles with feedback on the monitor so wretched, Daniel covered his ears. This elicited an extended belly laugh. It was a vicious cycle. Mercifully, Beverly removed the wand until I composed myself (so easily amused when I'm emotional. *sigh*).

She had to keep moving the wand to keep up with Baby. Apparently this one takes after her father and can't sit still, even in utero. Beverly played "follow the baby" some more and said, "Did you hear that pop? That was another kick!" Unfortunately--giddy as I was that she was kicking and moving so much--I couldn't discern it from all the other static and tummy gurgles and stuff. But I took her word for it, and it still made me really, really happy.

*****

And the (Heat) Goes On: Week 18

Not much happened last week. Most of the interesting goings-on in my life did NOT revolve around the baby-ness.

I spent the better part of the week nursing a pretty bad sunburn, which I got on Labor Day, not exactly remembering that cooler temperatures do not negate the necessity of sunscreen. Ouch. I also did a lot of housework. Thus, I've taken to smelling like Gold Bond and Lysol since Monday. (My poor, understanding husband...) A sunburn kind of takes all the fun out of beautiful, spring-ish weather. The sun still feels blisteringly hot on my skin. Not cool.

In other news, I'm working on an arrangement of Adele's "Someone Like You"...I'd like to try it as an alto/tenor duet. I've also been working on a top-secret menu for my kitchen's upcoming Iron Chef competition. My brother-in-law, Don, has challenged me to a "battle berry": each of us gets one sous chef, four courses, and all the blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries we can handle. I'm pretty excited about it. I hacked up a picture of Iron Chef America's chairman to make this picture for the Facebook event...



...it's dorky, yes. But I'm pretty proud of it.

*****

And the (Beating) Goes On: Week 19

Yesterday marked the advent of week 19. Thanks to my trusty once-a-week email update from BabyCenter.com, I learned my baby is now the size of a really huge tomato. A really huge tomato that can hear me. And apparently, he has waxy stuff on him to keep him from turning into a pickled tomato-baby between now and February (no, seriously).

A little later in the day, I finally experienced firsthand THE thing I've wondered about ever since I first felt the thumps and rumbles coming from my Mom's often-pregnant belly. I've never been able to shake the curiosity over what that must feel like. I simply couldn't picture it. Since I've been pregnant myself, I've looked forward to feeling "the quickening"--as my baby books call it--more than I've been looking forward to hearing the heartbeat, seeing the sonogram, or even finding out if our little one is a boy or a girl. The thought of a living, feeling, wiggling human being flipping around my midsection just totally trips me out.

Over a 24-hour period beginning Thursday night, I noticed several strange little flutters in my tummy. Not quite strong enough to say, "Yep, that's a baby." It was more like, "Hey honey? I'm feeling a little strange...I'm not sure if it's baby movement. Actually, it might just be tummy rumbles. I can't really tell. It seems a little low for tummy rumbles, though. Whoop, there it went again..."

The somersaults continued intermittently throughout the day, never pronounced enough to be sure, but I suspected I was incubating a little Chuck Norris in there. I wondered how many days I would have to wait before I would be pummeled by a series of solid roundhouse kicks.

And then last night, as I was sitting cross-legged on the floor in Bobby's room, eating dinner and watching a (really awful) remake of Hitchcock's Psycho, I felt a very distinct THUMP! right below my navel. I turned to my brother and said, "I think I just got kicked." A moment later, THUMP! (*gasp!*) There it was again! By then I was bellowing into the next room, "DANIEL, THE BABY KICKED! THE BABY KICKED! TWICE!!" In the next instant, Daniel was at my side with his hand on my belly, stooping low and murmuring into my belly button (which he's taken to calling "the microphone"), "Come on, kiddo...kick again. Kick her hard. Kick for Daddy..." Recognizing after a moment that no other kicks were forthcoming, Daniel switched gears. Leaping to his feet, he was barely containing his excitement as he asked, "Can I go Facebook this first?" (Oh, where would we be without our social media? Reduced to a time-consuming phone tree, I'm sure...) I patiently waited for Daniel's status update to hit the web...then I shoveled him out of the computer chair so I could have my turn. ;)

No more roundhouse kicks or somersaults or helicopter-disabling karate chops have manifested today. However, if they resurface, I may seriously need to consider naming my child Walker.

*****

And so, loved ones, with all the news that's fit to print having now been printed, I must take my leave. I wish you a very happy, peaceful weekend (and coming work week, for that matter). :)

Happily Ever,
~Ashley Michele~

Week 15: News. And Not-News.

News: Fun new developments this week

Week 15 is in full swing. I got an email from BabyCenter.com informing me that my little one has graduated from lemon-size to apple-size. You’d think we’d be approaching cantaloupe-size, given the way my belly is expanding. I’m officially utilizing my BeBand on a daily basis and I maybe have two shirts that still fit me. It might be time to go maternity shopping soon. (Did you hear that, Daniel? It looks like I have to go clothes shopping soon. Shucky-daaarrrnnn…)

What bewilders me is that, with all this visual expansion…I haven’t gained more than maybe half a pound in the ten weeks that I’ve known I was pregnant. Maybe with all the food aversions and morning sickness and such, I’ve been eating even less than I thought I was--losing “Ashley weight” and gaining “baby weight” all the while. Or maybe my scale’s just broken.

This week had a small milestone for me. Small, but lovely. My family is taking an interest in the evidence of my “condition”. Jo Ann gave me a hug followed by an affectionate belly-pat at dinner. And the other day, without a word of transition or warning, my typically undemonstrative brother actually crossed the room for the express purpose of tentatively placing his hand on my belly. It only remained there for a second, and then it promptly returned to its former station behind his back…but the whole gesture kinda made my day. Especially when he followed it with the bewildered observation, “Wow. You’re pregnant. That’s definitely a baby in there.”

Hehe.

In other news, it sounds like Jo Ann has officially settled on a “grandma name” to match Bob’s choice. The current status is “Grandpa and Mama Jo”. Last I checked, Dad was still weighing a few options, Pappy and Pops being top contenders. Mom always said she thought Grammy was a darling name for a grandparent and I’m eager to see what her counterpart will be. Not that there’s any rush, of course. There’s still plenty of time for exciting changes in the grandparents’ circle…plenty of time for changes all across the baby board, actually. Stay tuned for further developments. ;)


Observations: NOT new developments...just persistent reminders of my current condition

I thought some of these "symptoms" were supposed to be gone by now. Let's see, recently, I have...

• Dropped a box of cereal I was holding. I mean, I was just standing there, holding the box, and it fell out of my hand. Corn Pops everywhere.


• COMPLETELY forgotten the code to get into my gated storage facility, the code for the door to my building, AND my storage unit number. I forgot all that stuff when I pulled up to the gate to open it. This was my second trip there in 30 minutes. On the previous trip, I had to turn back because I forgot my key. Nothing was stored that day.


• Cried at a dog food commercial. And a commercial for a community college I'd never heard of ("Oh look, they graduated! They're throwing their caps! Good for them...*sniffle*").


• Stooped down to file something in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet...then I had to give myself a pep talk to get back up. I may have borrowed some lines from the Mighty Ducks movies.

Speaking of pep talks, I received a very good one from Joanna this week. Following a very whiny e-mail soliloquoy about the woes of my pregnancy thus far, she graciously reminded me that any relationship worth having takes effort and sacrifice...that includes the relationship I have with my unborn baby. And that makes all these pesky symptoms and quirks okay (annoying, but okay). It means time and effort that I get to invest in my baby's wellbeing. I'm excited about that. :)

*****
That's pretty much all the news (and not-news) that's fit to print. Until next time, loved ones, I remain...

Happily Ever,
~Ashley Michele~

Why they think I'm crazy for WANTING kids

Two of my coworkers, Matt and Shawn, are longtime friends both in the office and after hours. They good-naturedly joke that they find it incredibly novel that I actually want the baby I'm carrying (as well as any future ones the Lord sends me), given the fact that I've been around children long enough to "know better". Each of them has five children of their own, which means I get a lot of stories like the following, which took place when Matt and Shawn were preparing to leave for a hunting trip. Shawn's 2-year-old created a challenge just before their scheduled departure...

Matt: "The little runt had discovered my food locker and was unwrapping every Pop Tart in the thing, one at a time. He would unwrap one, take a bite, throw it on the grass, and move on to the next one. I caught him with a Pop Tart in each hand. He was a mess. He had red and blue junk ALL over his face. He was busted. He took one look at me, yelped ('EEEP!'), and took off running in the other direction. The lawn was strewn with foil wrappers...half-eaten, smooshed-up Pop Tarts everywhere..."

Shawn (shaking his head ruefully): "...it was like a Pop Tart murder scene."

*sigh* This is why I love my coworkers.

But my mind remains unchanged about the baby thing. ;)

An Announcement

Dear family, friends, casual acquaintances, and sworn enemies,

It is with great pleasure and giddiness (and more than a little impatience) that Daniel and I finally have the privilege of making this announcement to you all...



We're going to have a baby!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the fuzzy blur with the over-exclaimed caption is our happy, healthy, little, lime-sized son or daughter. The due date is a special one...February 3rd. This date is not only Daniel's birthday, but it also marks the day that my wonderful mama left this broken life for a much sweeter one when she went home to her Savior.

We're excited.

I've joked that this baby, only 12 weeks along, is already earning a spanking...taking into account the miserable, miserable morning sickness, the headaches, the bizarre food aversions (chicken, coconut, and coffee), the routine acne breakouts, the crazily vivid dreams, and the sciatic nerve s/he LOVES to pinch, this kiddo seems out to get me. Fortunately, I'm told babies like these typically ease up on mama going into the second trimester. Maybe Baby Timberlake just needs some time to get to know me...?

Despite all the aforementioned crimes against me, I already love our baby dearly. Not all the dreams I have are crazy...sometimes I just dream about giving our little one a bath, or snuggling on the couch. I've been knitting a baby blanket and I *love* being able to pour all my love and effort into something that will protect my little winter baby from the cold when we come home for the first time.

I suppose the REAL question this lovely situation begs is...do I have to change my blog title?

Romance has kicked the bucket

So, in honor of this oft-despised (yet generally over-appreciated) holiday, I thought I would share these verses I wrote the year before Daniel and I started dating. Enjoy...

A Cautionary Tale

Romance has kicked the bucket
Just when she was wanted most.
While waiting for the coroner
To tell us what the causes were,
I'm nearly...almost...yes, I'm sure:
Cupid gave up his ghost.

Young men and ladies weep now!
Search your closets, dress in black.
Black coats and dresses, slacks, and gloves.
O lovebirds, turn to mourning doves,
For I just heard that Puppy Love
Died of a heart attack.

Now hear this--even sadder!
When I thought the worst was over,
I was stricken with the blues.
At 6 o'clock, the evening news
Left my poor heart quite soundly bruised.
Guess who died? Russell Stover.

There is no joy in Mudville.
Alas! No sun will shine.
I'm told the blame, in whole or part,
From mournful end to wretched start,
Lies on the lonely, single hearts
Scorned by St. Valentine.

The theory that I've heard from
My old neighbor down the hall
Is that the fates of the departed
Were met when singles, brokenhearted,
Simultaneously pity-partied
Till they killed 'em, killed 'em all.

(The moral of this fiction--
Be it sober, steep, and scary--
Is, though you want a Valentine
So much, your poor heart peaks and pines,
And though you're single--as am I...


...Please don't hate February.)

***

I actually forgot that Valentine's Day was coming up until Daniel mentioned it on Saturday. Thus, I did not remember to ask the manager at my night job if I could have the night off to celebrate.

I know. Bad wifey.

Especially since this is a special one: our first Valentine's Day as husband and wife. That's a big one, right? Well, fortunately, I have a very understanding, very flexible employer and he took my name off the schedule as soon as I told him what happened.

And thus began the last-minute scramble for date plans. The dinner reservation has been made and we have agreed to exchange gifts next weekend...y'know...since I forgot to buy him a present, too. (Man, I'm a winner. Lucky he loves me so much, or I'd be toast.)

Daniel and I are returning to the site of our first Valentine's Day date this evening: Benihana. I've only been there one other time, and that was the night Daniel popped the question. I'm quite excited about this.

I hope all of you enjoy your evening, whatever your plans entail (Several of my single friends are enjoying ladies nights in, complete with margaritas, chick flicks, pajama bottoms, and other single buddies. Not a bad alternative to flowers and candy, if you ask me).

Be loved and loving, blessed and fulfilled, happy and well today. And may the great Lover of your soul make his presence known to you on this day that celebrates His greatest attribute.

Happily Ever,
Ashley Michele

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us. (1 John 4:7-11)

"I have not seen the righteous forsaken."

Sing for joy, O heavens and exult, O earth;
break forth, O mountains, into singing!
For the LORD has comforted his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted
Isaiah 49:13 (ESV)

I have been young and now am old,
yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
or his children begging for bread.
Psalm 37:25 (ESV)

***

The Lord has comforted his people. The righteous have not been forsaken.

Let me tell you...there are some days when remembering these truths is all I need to keep pressing on. Thank you, Lord, for sending out the light of your word in the midst of the darkness we step out into each day.

Why I Will Marry Him Anyway

On Sunday, I will marry Daniel.

Marrying him means there are some plans I had for my life that I have to lay down--perhaps forever. But I will marry him anyway.

Marrying him means there are some favorite dinners of mine that I won't be cooking much because he's not as fond of them. I will marry him anyway.

Marrying him means there are some very special people who will choose to step away from my life. I will marry him anyway.

Marrying him means I won't go to the coffeehouse I love as often as I used to. I will marry him anyway.

Marrying him means knowing the pedestal I put him on got knocked over a long time ago. I will marry him anyway.

Because marrying him means learning that sometimes there are other things besides myself which should be important to him. It means loving each other through the times that we want to yell our faces off because each of us thinks the other is being so, so bullheaded.

It means understanding that vowing "till death do we part" means forfeiting the lone escape clause. It means choosing to vow "till death do we part" anyway. It means loving each other through better and worse, even when the "worse" is unthinkable. It means understanding that "worse" can be a tired heart, another love, an addiction, a habitual sin, or a fervent desire to just walk away.

It means laughter and happiness and heartache and frenzy and grief and fear and compassion and empathy and companionship. It means being there through the 19th nervous breakdown...and the 20th...and the 21st. It means watching football on the couch, even though I don't like football. It means chick flicks on the rug, even though he doesn't like chick flicks. It's washing dishes and sweeping the floor. It's midnight feedings and taking turns helping our kiddo figure out the potty. It's seven-year itches and mid-life crises and lovingly symbiotic senility.

But it also means, "it is not good for man to be alone". It means, "he who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the LORD". It's, "wives, respect your husbands" and "husbands, love your wives". It's, "my lover is mine and I am his". It's, "many waters cannot quench love" and, "rivers cannot wash it away".

I understand the great cost of binding my life to that of another. But I love Daniel, I trust him, and I trust the Lord's wisdom in providing me such a wonderful, wonderful man...


...so I will marry him anyway.



**********

Happily Ever,
~Ashley Michele~