Who Wants to Watch Me Get Fat?!

Ok, ok, more reverently: Hush and I are joyously awaiting the birth of our offspring, due on our wedding day September 13. 

Hooray!  So excited!!

We had to get proof of baby for our insurance so we hit Planned Parenthood because I donate to them every year so why not take advantage?  Also, look at how Hush is looking at me.  That’s the look that’s the look – the look of love.

But really, the baby part isn’t happening until September.  I’m one of those people who doesn’t bond with the baby in utero because I’m emotionally protective.  I don’t imagine the scientific situation taking over my body as a baby until I hold that kid in my arms.  I make a concerted effort to not connect because I’m afraid of something bad happening to the baby and my being unable to recover from such an event.  If you have a miscarriage or something like unto it it’s very different if you think of that as losing a person with a name and an (imagined) identity.  So I usually don’t find out the sex before the baby comes.  I found out with Silas because there were other traumatic unsure things happening in my life.  Hush may persuade me otherwise, but for now, I’m not finding out the sex.  Yellow baby clothes here I come.

Possibly the only clothing items I will need to buy for offspring, as my sisters and I have bins upon bins of baby clothes.

Thus, I can enjoy the experience that is pregnancy without obsessing over the effects of all the weird things happening with my body.

Mostly what is happening is eating.  I eat so I don’t barf constantly and man, it’s already catching up with me.  I fully intend to wear stretchy clothes for the next two years.  My baby tummy isn’t showing at all really, but don’t worry, I’m making up for it by entirely letting myself go with reckless abandon.  Exercising while pregnant is for masochists, besides, where would I barf?  I’m going to get so fat it’s going to be rad.

Child endangerment in a magazine.  Also, knock it off, pregnant exercisers. DO stop the dance.

I love being pregnant.  Well, I thought I did.  All three of my pregnancies have been smooth sailing, with little nausea and no issues.  This pregnancy, however, has thrown me for a loop.  I’ve never been so sick in my life.  Every day is a Battle Royale featuring food on one side and barfing on the other.  Should I eat or should I barf?  My nose could put a bloodhound’s to shame.  I run from smells like they are a hacking cough on a subway in Asia.  I gag at the slightest provocation – I can’t even type vinegar without doing that preventative barf swallow.  It’s so sudden that Hush has many times thought I was bluffing and nearly wound up with a lap full of dinner.  Even Mimi knows when to grab whatever’s in my hands and clear the way between me and the bathroom. 

Hush came home from work and was greeted by this gloriousness.

List of things that make me gag . . . think I can make it through?

Café Zupas.  Used to be my favorite until one fateful day.

Anything that has a scent in the fridge.

Onions.

Vinegar.

Milk, depending on the time of day.

Any mention of food that is different from the food I am currently eating.  I have toast and you offer me a cookie?  Retching commences.

The smells of someone having cooked something in the kitchen.

Meat cooking.

Indian food.

 

List of things I love

Anything on the banned foods list.  Oysters.  Soft cheeses.  Sushi.  Carpaccio (raw beef with lemon).

Anything I can’t get my hands on.  Brass Bear Sandwiches.  Sourdough Bread.  Skewers from Citra Grill across the street from the movies in Walnut Creek

Pam and Jim came to visit and brought me Brass Bear!

Anything that requires Hush going to the store at midnight.  I don’t know why that makes food taste so much better.

Anything that is closed when I want it.  Ethiopian food and delis.

O’Doul’s.  That wins for weirdest pregnancy craving.  I despise even the smell of beer but for some reason

when I’m pg I need to take one sip of near beer and throw the rest away.  Revolting, doesn’t mix well with prenatals.

Now let me say something about how unbelievably amazing it is to have a husband who loves you and wants to take care of you while you are growing his baby.  Hush is always good to me but he has taken his kindness to uncharted levels.  If I so much as swoon when I’m getting the kids ready for school he swoops in and takes over.  He guards my sleep and makes sure I have medicine, food, a garbage can and anything else I need in the evenings when I’m sickest.  At church yesterday I was feeling the Hungry v. Barf war coming on and he bolted home and back bringing me sliced oranges, cookies, string cheese AND hot chocolate in a portable cup.  It was like a miracle.  It’s almost like every day I spent alone while pregnant with Jude and Silas is being made up one hundred fold.  If you can at all swing it, make sure to have your fourth kid with a shiny new perfect husband.  It is a coddling experience not to be missed.  All this for housing his offspring for nine and a half months. 

Church rations provided by the kindest man alive.