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Aug 11, 2013

welcome, little lutz.

Our summer has been fantastically busy and fun. We have adventured, family-ed, traveled, graduated, worked, and...discovered we are expecting our first child. Yes, we are ecstatic, and yes, we are still slightly in denial at times even though we've known for months.

Today I was reflecting on the havoc that was my first trimester. I am terrible at journaling and decided I needed to document some of the highlights (lowlights?) on this here blog. Read, don't read, do what you will, but I have to warn you, the following may contain TMI:

  • Finding out was pretty great. I was on the phone with my friend Kimberly, and half-heartedly taking my fifth pregnancy test within 2 days. (This being month #4 of constantly thinking I'm pregnant). As I walked back into the bathroom, mid-sentence, I saw two pink lines on the screen and began hyperventilating and freaking out, she began screaming and freaking out, and the wait for Neal to come home from work began. I will never forget how the minutes seemed to last hours as I stared out our back window like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. I gave him the positive test in a gift bag (creative, I know) and he had his own episode of laughing, crying and freaking out. It was one of greatest moments we've shared together.
  • "Morning" sickness....which is the absolute least-accurate term for the plague that is nausea and vomiting of pregnancy. Yes, it begins in the morning, but it continues all day long and through the night until the next morning, just to start all over again. It's horrible, disgusting, and unattractive. What makes it so irritating is the fact that "morning" sickness doesn't care that you work full-time, or have a huge life-determining test to study for and take, or that you're trying to grow a baby who needs those crucial pre-natal vitamins you can't keep down. The worst part though? I have turned into a whiny pregnant lady who saves most of her complaining for her husband. I wish I could say that this lovely phase is over now that I'm "out of the woods" aka. done with my first trimester, but it's decided to hang around. Thankfully, I'm down to 3-4 vomit episodes per day compared to 15+. Hallelujah.
  • One would think with all the sickness that I would be like some of those women who lose weight in the first few months (like my gorgeously pregnant cousin Kayla). Nope. With the constant throwing up I am ALWAYS hungry, and for everything under the sun. At my first pre-natal appointment my OB glanced at my pre-pregnancy weight, then at the weight her scale had shown that day, and quickly began to rattle off a long list of fatty, greasy foods she didn't want me eating, and threatened me with a c-section if my baby grows too large to deliver. As she named the foods on her list I slinked lower and lower in my seat and avoided looking Neal in the eye, as he knows exactly how many drive-thrus I've visited since day one of pregnancy. When we got home I stood on our scale that showed 5 pounds less than the doctor's office, and determined that I would only accept OUR scale to be accurate from this time forward. 
  •  Hormonal rage... I've actually been pretty proud of myself as I've read countless stories of pregnant women's emotional breakdowns. Neal makes it pretty easy to remain happy and content...he's a wonderful, dedicated husband, always treats me with kindness and respect, and helps me to snap out of it when I'm feeling sorry for myself. However, I did experience what may be the first of embarrassingly petty arguments to come (of which I can definitely play the "I'm pregnant and hormonal" card for). A few weeks ago, Neal decided he was going to make his favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe from his childhood. As mentioned above, I have been easily excited by the thought of all food lately and the 6-pound bag of chocolate chips we bought at Sam's sent me daydreaming about warm, gooey, soft chocolate chip cookies. It was a Sunday evening, and after dinner he began searching online for the recipe. He found it, printed it off, and as he was adorning his cute man-apron, I read through the recipe and noticed that "oats" and "walnuts" were among the ingredients. I like oats, I like walnuts, and I like them in cookies. But all weekend I had been fixated on the thought of traditional, straight-up, plain chocolate chip cookies. NOT oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I mentioned to Neal in a (at this point) jokingly whiny voice, "I thought you were making regular chocolate chip cookies." He replied, a bit defensive, "these ARE regular chocolate chip cookies." The disappointment of the change of cookies left my mind and annoyance at this statement entered my increasingly icy cold heart. "No, they are not regular chocolate chip cookies. They have oats and walnuts. Do you really think of oats and walnuts when someone says "Have a bite of this chocolate chip cookie?" "Well, yes, I do." We debated for probably a good ten minutes on whether or not traditional chocolate chip cookies contained oats and nuts. I felt myself enraged that he wouldn't just admit that he knew that he was wrong about the fact that his recipe was not one for a "typical" chocolate chip cookie. I didn't care about what I was going to eat at this point, just that I was RIGHT. In the middle of this silly, silly argument, my husband wisely shrugged and walked away to the kitchen to begin his baking extravaganza. After a few minutes of cold silence I slumped after him and asked in a very un-friendly voice if I could help him bake the cookies. He said "thats okay, I can do it" and with a dramatic sob I ran to our room and shut the door. I don't know that I have ever done that since we've been married. The silliness! Anyway, I could hear him chopping walnuts and could tell it was taking him forever. I felt evil satisfaction that he was stuck doing such a tedious task by himself. I pouted in our room for a good half hour when all of a sudden, the chopping stopped and a few minutes later our bedroom door opened and I was attacked by a paper airplane. A few excerpts from the note from my adorable husband:  "So sorry for starting (he didn't start it. I started it.) an argument about something small and insignificant. You're probably right that the majority of chocolate chip cookies do not feature oatmeal and most probably also exclude nuts.....Also I'm sorry for asking to bake them by myself...I'm sure that hurt your feelings. I think part of me wanted to surprise you with the finished product while you have a different end in mind (aww). I forgot how laborous they are, so I would love your help....I am very sorry and love you very much. Thank you for being so patient with your imperfect husband."  Nothing like a paper-airplane-apology note from someone who didn't do anything wrong to make me feel like a big pregnant meanie. Needless to say, I helped him finish, and the cookies were amazing. Delicious. Thank you for reading story #1 of embarrassing, unfortunate hormone rage.  Please don't judge me.
  • Seeing your baby on a sonogram is pretty freaking amazing. I've never really "got it", never understood why people will post sono pictures on facebook. You can't even tell what's what, wouldn't even know it's a baby if it didn't clearly say "it's a boy!!!!!" underneath. But when it's yours, and it's heart is beating, and it's moving around like crazy, your own heart stops beating for a second. And you feel unbelievable joy.  And you want to stay in that sonogram room forever.  And you may or may not creepily hug the little printed-out picture so many times that your only copy is crinkled and bent. And you want to show it to everyone with a pair of eyeballs. So, facebook sono posters, I understand you now.
And that friends, is my first trimester in a nutshell. 

If you're wondering, little Lutz is now officially the size of a plum. Neal agreed to buy one for me this week. Is it disturbing for me to eat the fruit that supposedly resembles my baby?

Don't care.

http://www.fitho.in/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Plum-Fruit.jpg