39 weeks 4 days. HOLAAAY!

There are now THREE DAYS until our due date, November 10. THREE DAYS!! The full moon happens to fall on our due date, too. According to my great-uncle Floyd, who has seen probably hundreds of cows give birth to calves on full moons, I'm definitely going to have the baby that day. (Humans and cows operate much the same way, apparently, at least when it comes to birth.)

A strange thing happened over the weekend. My anxiety and fear has all but disappeared and has been replaced by kind of an eerie calm. It's like my brain has finally accepted that this baby is coming, so I better suck it up and get used to the idea. I'm still not experiencing any big panic to get to the hospital but at least now I'm OK with going when it's time.

I LOVE the anticipation of wondering whether it's a boy or a girl in there and I've got to say I'm so happy we didn't find out at our ultrasound...it's going to be an amazing surprise!

Knowing that there's a very good chance this was our last baby-free weekend, we crammed in as much "we" time as possible over the past couple days. We went Christmas shopping, had dinner with friends, went out for breakfast, and spent a lot of time with Rory, walking him and taking him to the football field near our house for a good game of fetch-the-stick. I caught up on episodes of America's Next Top Model and Glee and made a whole bunch of crafts I've seen on Pinterest, and Peter played his Gears of Duty Halo 3 or whatever the kids on Xbox are into these days. We had a movie date and got Starbucks and went to the gym twice. We spent some time just enjoying being at home, hanging out, comfortable, quiet.

It was weird thinking that this could be the last time we go see a movie without having to get a babysitter, or the last time we go to the mall without a stroller. At breakfast, we saw couples eating with their babies in car seats next to them, and it was surreal thinking that next time we go out for breakfast we could be doing the same. Things are about to change so much. I don't think you can actually fully prepare. I think we're as ready as we're going to get.

Any day now, baby! Come on out whenever you like.

How Far Along: 39 weeks and four days.

Size of baby: The size of a watermelon. I'm hoping a smallish watermelon.

Total Weight Gain: As of last week's appointment I'm up between 15-17lb. I can't wait to get back to normal.

Maternity Clothes: The whole pregnancy, I only bought two pieces of maternity clothing: a dress and a blouse. I have been wearing my old jeans with my Bella Band along with leggings and long cardigans. The "shirt" I'm wearing in my picture is actually a dress... What sucks is it's getting colder and none of my coats fasten over my belly. Luckily the weather this week is forecast to be pretty mild so hopefully by the time the really wintery stuff comes I can wear my coats again.

Gender: Mystery! I have no inclinations one way or the other.

Movement: Still a big mover. The other night my stomach was like a family of raccoons trapped in a blanket. It was actually painful.

Cravings/Aversions: Nothing specific.

Labor Signs: I don't know if I'm having false contractions, Braxton Hicks, or if I just need to go to the bathroom. They all feel the same.

What I miss: Sleeping on my back and belly. Being able to pick something up off the floor without strategizing on ways to avoid bending over first. Running and lifting weights. Wine. Eggs benedict. Being able to fasten my pants. Being able to sleep between the hours of 3:00 and 6:00 AM.

What I'm looking forward to: Meeting our little beastie, finding out if it's a he or a she, not looking like a gargantuan whale, going for a super long run, gorging myself on soft-poached eggs and Brie cheese, Christmas time with our little family.

38 and a half weeks. That smile? FAKE.

We're at 38+ weeks now, with less than two weeks to go until our due date on November 10.

In related amazing news, my doctor is going away to Australia and China for the next two weeks, and the doctor she referred me to is also going to be away from November 2-8, so if the baby is born between those dates, I guess we'll just have a taxi driver or Sobeys cashier or a Starbucks barista deliver him or her, since ALL OF THE DOCTORS ARE GONE!! NO BIG DEAL!!

I haven't been experiencing the "ZOMG get this baby out of me now" feelings that many moms-to-be report having. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I'm absolutely petrified of labour and delivery and am having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I will actually be participating in this act in less than a fortnight (I have always wanted to throw out a gratuitous use of the word "fortnight", so I can now cross that off my life list.) I cannot and will not accept the fact that I'm about to have a baby. Does. Not. Compute. It just doesn't feel like it's happening to me. Even typing the words "I am going to give birth within the next two weeks" or saying it out loud doesn't make sense. It's like I'm typing "I am a polar bear". I understand what it means, but it doesn't apply to me.

As far-fetched as it sounds, I've kind of put the actual birthing out of my mind for the past nine months, like, "oh, that's something that happens to other women" and skipped off to watch Gossip Girl and eat Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches, assuming that science would come up with a better way to get a baby out of its mother's body by the time when my turn rolled around since everything else was going so swimmingly. Well, thanks for nothing, David Suzuki.  

I've known that the baby is coming - I just haven't given any thought as to how it's going to get here. And now it's like: whoa. You want me to push what through where? Wait, what? Did I agree to this? Was I on drugs? Can I change my mind? I feel like I've been tricked.

Now that it's roughly 10-ish days, max, until I'm actually going to expel a human being from my hidey-hole, shit is getting super real. I've been doing things like sitting with my legs tightly crossed and elevated so that gravity keeps the baby from trying to make tracks for the escape hatch. Seriously. Because that's a legitimate way to prevent birth from happening.

Fear: I haz it. I have never been so scared in my entire life.

Let's all join hands and pray that the drugs work. And that the Starbucks baristas are skilled at administering epidurals. Amen!

First off, high-five for being a good baby and staying put this long. You scared us a few weeks ago, when we thought you were going to make your grand entrance two months early, but you've settled down nicely after that little outburst and we're all very relieved and happy you've decided to behave. With the exception of that fiasco, you've been an excellent baby, so we'll let that little episode slide.

You're officially full term now, which means you can arrive safely anytime. We're OK with waiting a couple more weeks to meet you, though. As massive and awkward as mama might be feeling these days, and as excited as we are to see you, we like having this time to get good and ready for you to join us. We've been taking lots of walks and doing a lot of talking and trying to get as prepared as we can to be your mom and dad.

But when you do get here, I think we're finally ready for you, at least as ready as we'll ever be. Your room is ready, your bassinet is put together, your car seat  is in the back of my car, all set to bring you home from the hospital. Your clothes and blankets are washed and put away and your hospital bag is packed up with your tiny diapers and the sweet little outfit we picked out for you to wear home from the hospital. We've watched videos on how to swaddle you, bathe you, diaper you, dress you. To be honest, mom and dad are pretty clueless but we hope we'll get the hang of this thing quickly, and we're going to do our best.

You're still a mover and shaker. You love kicking me on the left side and sticking out your badonkadonk caboose on the right. When I wake up in the middle of the night (every night) you're usually in the middle of a little solo dance party in there. If you aren't, all it takes is for me to roll over in bed and you're awake and kicking up a storm. You're a party animal! You love listening and dancing to music and you have questionable taste in tunes, so it looks like you've inherited at least one thing from your mama. At least I'll have someone to listen to Glee soundtracks, Britney and Jay-Z with day in and day out.

Not gonna lie, baby. I'm pumped to not look like I've swallowed a beach ball soon. But that being said, I'm going to miss carrying you around all day. We've been hanging out 24/7 for nine months now, and I've come to love having my little buddy with me all the time. I'll miss feeling your kicks and punches, rubbing your bum and footies, and laughing at your hiccups. I'll miss knowing you're snug and warm and safe. I think I'm going to feel a little bit empty after you're born. Even before I could feel you moving around, I'd talk to you. When we were stuck in traffic we'd make fun of weird looking people. We'd read you bedtime books and tell you we loved you.

When we found out you were going to join us, way back in March, we couldn't believe our luck. We jumped up and down and I cried, we were so excited. And we've been excited ever since. We're scared and nervous but most of all, we can't wait to meet you.

We wonder every day: will you be a boy or a girl? Who will you look like? Will you have hair? Brown eyes and curly hair like dad or green eyes and straight hair like me? Will you be shy or outgoing? Will you love to run around and be crazy or will you want to sit still and colour and read?

We worry: will you like us? Will we do a good job looking after you? Will you be happy? Will we be able to give you what you need?

One thing is for sure - you're already a very loved little person. We can't wait to see you soon.

xoxo
Mama

Here's our 36-week photo. We're now at 36 weeks and 5 days - two days from the magical 37 week mark, when the baby is officially finished doing useful, important things in the ute and is just simply laaaaaid back with its mind on its money and its money on its mind sucking down amniotic fluid, kicking the bejesus out of my innards, and fattening up like a Christmas ham.

AKA, the date where we can safely go into labour ANY DAY NOW with no worries.

Don't go getting ideas, baby. You stay in there and get chubby and give mama time to get her act together before you make an appearance. There are a lot of things I need to do before you get here, namely find a diaper bag that doesn't suck and doesn't cost one million dollars. Really, if it doesn't have giraffes and monkeys marching up and down the straps, it's impossible to find a decent diaper bag for less than the cost of the bloody crib. Is it too much to ask for a diaper bag that doesn't LOOK LIKE A DIAPER BAG?

Fun things we've done with the baby this week:

• Used the bump as a shelf for a water glass. 
• Put remote controls on it and watched the baby kick them off. 
• Rubbed cocoa butter on it 239570 times a day because my skin is so. itchy.
• Played patty-cake when they stick their feet a good four inches out the side of my stomach. 

My bump is no longer round, by the way. It's all pointy and sharp corners and baby footies and bum and elbows. It's more like...a rhombus. 

So, we've finally selected names for the baby - a girl name and a boy name. I really can't wait for that moment when we hear "It's a ______!" and I can say "Hello, ________!"

We get asked about names all the time, and have gotten used to watching people's faces fall when we tell them the names are top secret. We've had our boy's name picked out since before we were pregnant, and we just switched our girl's name in the past week or so after I realized the first, middle, and last names don't sound great together and panicked.

Why so secretive with the names? There are a few reasons. We just don't want people to criticize the names, for one thing, to make a face, or say something stupid. Or to say "OHMYGAWWWWD I know a kid named __________ and he/she is the biggest brat". Or send us Google links to people with the same name as our unborn child who turned out to be, like, sadistic serial killers or complete freak shows. Because for some reason, people really enjoy raining on others' parades.

If we have a girl, we don't want people to snag our favourite boy name, in the event that we decide to reproduce again and have a boy, and vice versa. That being said, we realize there's a finite number of names available, and there are going to be other kids with these names. We tried to steer away from overly popular and trendy names. We also avoided family names since neither of us was blessed with awesome ones. We picked out names we like the sound of, that work well with Peter's last name, and will suit not just a baby but a teen, an adult and an old person as well. And hopefully, whether it's a boy or girl, it won't be one of 10 in its class at school with the same name.

Naming a baby is HARD. You have to look at a lot of factors. What do the initials spell? You can't have a kid going around with the initials ASS, for example. What does it rhyme with? How can cruel, clever children possibly manipulate this name and make my kid miserable for 12 years of his/her life? Are we naming our baby after any sordid soap opera characters, reality show trainwrecks, or famous pets?

Since Peter's last name begins with an F and is pretty Scottish sounding I tried to avoid overly-Gaelic names and anything that begins with F for a first name. This made me a little sad since there are some solid F-names kicking around.

It took a lot of research, debating, even muttering different name combinations out loud, but we've finally settled on two possible names for our little beast and I can't wait to share one of them in a few weeks.

I've had plenty of days where being ordered to stay in my house, wear comfy clothes, eat whatever I like, avoid working like the plague, and not get off the couch would have sounded heavenly.

In theory, it sounds awesome: who doesn't want to be under doctor's orders to pig out, watch TV and read all day? In practice, it's not so great. It's Friday at 8:30 p.m., which means I've been out of the hospital for a little over 24 hours, and I'm already going loco.

I'm not on bedrest, exactly, but I've been told to reduce my activity levels pretty drastically. I'm not allowed to go to the gym, vacuum the floor, carry anything heavy, walk the dog, travel, and so on - basically nothing that could send fetus into a tailspin and get him or her all aggravated again. I'm supposed to "take it easy" and stick close to home. I'll see my doctor on Monday afternoon, where I'll get a more specific list of do's and don'ts, but until then, I'm scared to do much more than creep off the couch to get a glass of water or have a shower.

I've been pussyfooting around all day like a 95-year-old woman-slash-George Bluth in season 2 of Arrested Development, alternating between being frustrated that I can't go anywhere and scared every time I have to go to the toilet in case the gravitational pull (TMI, I'M SO SORRY!!) reminds the baby that there is an escape hatch and prompts them to want to head out. On one hand, I don't want to be totally lazy and sedentary and feel all gross; on the other hand, I want what's best for the baby and would do anything to make sure he or she is safe and healthy even if it means three weeks of slothlike living.

Until Monday, I'll be sticking around the house and not venturing too far from the bed, couch, or toilet. In the meantime here's a list I'm starting of things to keep myself (safely) occupied until I get the green light to start being a normal human being again:

1. Read. Luckily, I love to read. I'm halfway through the second Hunger Games book right now and am loving it. My friends and hubby also brought me tons of magazines to read in the hospital too, so I have reading material for weeks! If I do run out I can send hubby to the library with my card to sign me out some new books, or maybe I'll be allowed to leave the house for quick errands so I may even be able to *gasp* choose a book for myself!

2. Netflix. What did we do before sweet, sweet Netflix? I'm making my way through Mad Men season 4, and we've almost finished Arrested Development (hence the George Bluth reference). I have some DVDs to watch too - Friday Night Lights, The Office, 90210, and last but not least, Dawson's Creek. Over the past week I've determined that daytime TV is the shits. Netflix and DVDs are where it's at.

3. Crafts. Crafts aren't overly strenuous, right? I have a front door begging for a new fall wreath, a dining room table that wants to be adorned with a new centrepiece, and a baby's room that may be lacking in a lot of the essentials but by god, it'll look cute. Until I get the all-clear to make trips to the store over the next week or so, I'll have to send Peter to Michael's with my shopping lists, which he's absolutely going to love.

I would also add "baking" to the list, but with baking comes eating, and I don't necessarily need to be cramming my face with cinnamon buns and pumpkin spice cakes when I'm not able to burn them off at the gym.

4. Pinterest. So I held out on Pinterest, because I thought it was stupid and frankly I didn't get it. Now I'm a Pinterest convert! I can easily kill an hour pinning stuff. Crafts, recipes, fashion, quotes...so so so much good stuff.

5. Play games! I love board games. I have a Nintendo DS that I can dust off for some Animal Crossing action. And while I suck at Xbox games, I do have a soft spot for Mortal Kombat.

6. Online shopping. So bad for me especially now that I'm going to be on the dole for mat leave, but I can get a jump on Christmas shopping before it becomes pandemonium.

7. On that note - set up a budget. Might as well get responsible and start tracking my smaller income carefully.

8. Organize things. Pack my hospital bag. Get all my mailing addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses in one place for birth announcements and this year's Christmas card list. Create new iPod playlists. Wash up the baby's clothes. Set up folders on my laptop for keeping photos and bills filed away. I may not be able to do any heavy lifting or cleaning but there are little things I can do to help make life easier both now and after baby arrives when I'm too exhausted to make an effort.

Any other suggestions for how I can survive my house arrest? Has anyone else been on bedrest/reduced activity - how did you get through it?

30 weeks - 31 in one day!

Here's our (very blurry) 30-week picture - 30 weeks and six days, to be exact. We had our monthly checkup yesterday morning - the last of our monthly checkups. They're now switching to every two weeks. So far, all is well in babyland. The baby weighs about three pounds and its head is facing down, its bum is on the right, and footies are on the left. I had thought the bum-bump was its head, so I feel a little bit better now because I've been feeling bad about sleeping on my right side, worrying that I've been putting the poor little thing on its head for hours, soo this comes as a relief.

Physically I feel great and I have no complaints at all. Emotionally I'm a bit of a wreck. We have two months to go. TWO MONTHS. Cycle 17 of America's Next Top Model will still be on and we'll have a baby. I have purchased dairy products with expiry dates that are after my due date. I could be drinking the same coffee creamer I had for breakfast today when I'm a mother, and I won't even get food poisoning. This is not OK. I've never been so excited yet scared for anything, ever.

Staying asleep is starting to become a bit of a thing, in that it never happens for more than a couple hours. Last week Peter brought me a body pillow to help me sleep more comfortably, and it's been a huge help, except it creates this kind of puffy brick wall barrier between us in the bed. Rolling over is a bit of a production where I wake up, decide I want to actually roll over, heft the pillow over myself and then grunt and heave myself over to the other side. Sexy. When I sleep it's this weird straddling/cuddling of the pillow. I can't even see my husband on the other side. I'm going to name the pillow Peter 2. Or Al the Alligator. One of the books I've been reading, The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy, likens rolling over late in pregnancy with a body pillow as wrestling an alligator. She's right! I've never wrestled an alligator but I can only assume this is exactly the same.

Here are some other random tidbits from the past week:

Very scientific and to-scale drawing to show you how the baby is positioned.

-A (presumably) homeless man congratulated me yesterday, which I thought was pretty sweet. At least it was nice in comparison to the douche-lord at Starbucks two minutes earlier, who, the split second I closed my laptop, raced over to my table and asked "Are you leaving?" and then hovered while I packed away my computer and power cord, notebook, phone and water bottle. Seriously, guy. Fuck off somewhere with your frappuccino while I get my act together and waddle out of here.

-The Eddie Bauer Soothing Comfort Playard was designed to make new parents cry, sit on the floor and question their ability to raise a child when they can't even fold up a playpen successfully. "How was ALL THIS in THAT box??" I wailed. More than once. Soothing comfort? Maybe for baby. Not for us.

-I was practicing putting a stuffed bear into our carseat and if it were a real baby I'd have dislocated his/her arms and potentially crushed his penis (if baby is, in fact, of the penised variety).

-Out for a walk with Pete and the dog last night a car full of hooligans drove by and some 16-year-old screamed out the window at us, "You know that's my kid, right?" Stay classy, Sackville!

Here we are at 29 weeks and five days...which is crazy close to 30 weeks, which seems very DUN DUN DUUUUUN and homestretch-ish and frighteningly close to D-day. Our little bebe is now the size of a squash, which I find to be very unhelpful, thebump.com!! There are approximately 45 different varieties of squash! We want specifics! Is it a spaghetti squash? A butternut squash? Help these clueless kids out.

So, what's been going on in fetus land? Baby F has been getting the hiccups a lot lately which I find just adorable. He or she is active as ever throughout the day (including right now) and in the wee hours of the morning. Often, the movements feel more like rolls and flips, but once in a while there'll be a crazy flurry of really fast kicks and jabs.

Knock on wood, I've still been feeling great. I've been going to the gym as usual, pretty much every day, and eating normally too. I have a doctor's appointment next Tuesday and am anxious to see if I've gained weight. Even though baby is growing and is measuring right on track, and I can see my bump getting bigger, the scale isn't really budging. I'd only gained a pound over the course of my last three monthly appointments, so we'll see what's up next week. As long as the baby is healthy and measuring properly, I don't really care. As of my 26-week appointment I'd only gained about 10-12lb total.

I'm definitely getting more paranoid and protective of the baby. Last week, I stepped on a dog toy on the stairs, my feet flew out from under me, and I landed on my bum - hard - and skidded down four or five stairs. I was really shaken up and paranoid and of course I ran right to the trusty Internet to see what the geniuses on pregnancy forums recommended. (Side note: if you ever get knocked up, you should probably just avoid all computers. Don't even look at them.) After reading half a dozen horror stories about falls and their consequences I hysterically called 811, which is a service we have in Nova Scotia that links you to a registered nurse and essentially tells you whether you need to be seen by a doctor. She asked a lot of questions and reassured me I should be fine, and told me which symptoms to watch out for. I felt better after calling and better still after baby kicked and punched the daylights out of me for the next hour or so.

I also felt my first Braxton-Hicks contractions the other day - not fun. Anything ute-related sends me into a tailspin. Keep cooking, baby!!

A lot of girls get a real pregnancy "glow" and I don't feel like I have that. My skin's been haggard and dry no matter what I do, and I get ridiculous random breakouts. My hair doesn't cooperate. On the plus side, my nails do look better and stronger thanks to the prenatal vitamins.

Other things to note: Bending over is starting to suck, sleeping on my side is getting old, no strangers have touched my belly yet (WIN!!) and I've still been able to avoid buying maternity pants (DOUBLE WIN!!) Maternity clothes are atrociously expensive. Who wants to pay $40 for a t-shirt that's ugly and only going to be worn for a couple months? Not this girl.

Our nursery bedding arrived the other day - I'll post pictures once the nursery is 100% done but here's a picture from the website. We settled on owls. Unisex, cute, and not done to death.

What's up third trimester?! When I got an email from thebump.com yesterday congratulating us on making it through the second trimester, I cried. I had this overwhelming feeling of noooo...not yet. To say we are unprepared is an understatement. Ditto for me being terrified.

Our little beast has been cookin' for 27 weeks now and already they've developed quite the personality. For starters, they are a mover and shaker. This kid wakes up around the same time as me, bright and early in the morning - usually they wake me up just before my alarm at 6. And then they're up all throughout the day punching, kicking, dancing and I don't even know what else is going on in there. I knew I'd feel the baby kick often, but this is almost constant and can easily be seen from the outside.

If I scratch my belly, I get kicked. If I roll over in bed, I get kicked. Drink something warm? Get kicked. Drink something cold? Get kicked.

I'm pretty sure the baby loves rap. I was listening to Jay Z in the car and they kicked and danced like crazy. Then again, we were on a boat cruise a couple of weeks ago with a band playing and they were again having a solo dance party in there, so maybe it's just music in general.

At our 26-week checkup, the doctor put the doppler on my belly to hear the heartbeat and the baby kicked it hard enough to knock it out of place.

And even now as I write this they're kicking the crap out of me and doing what feels like somersaults, which is the weirdest sensation in the world and I can't begin to describe it.

The one time when the baby doesn't want to move? When I'm trying to show other people the movements. I'll be sitting on the couch with Peter or with my parents or whoever, and the baby's going nuts. I'll whisper, "look at the baby!" And they STOP. So everyone's looking at my belly all expectantly and it's completely motionless, and I look like a crazy nutjob liar.

So in a nutshell, I have an uncooperative early bird baby that loves to dance, but only in private. They suffer from a bit of performance anxiety. And they're a champion kicker.

I'm still feeling good, eating like a sane person, working out every day, refusing to buy maternity jeans, willing my belly button to stay an innie. Strangers are beginning to comment and I want to respond with a blank stare and an "I'm not pregnant..." and see how that fixes their little red wagon. We're still hearing that I'm "carrying high" which apparently means it's a girl. Well guys...you have a 50/50 chance of being right!

Sooo, today is the 26-week mark. There are 98 days left to go before my due date. It seems like a long time...but it's just over three months. I'm not sure if three months is long enough to switch gears mentally and go from being all carefree and spontaneous to being PARENTS.

Slowly but surely things are coming together. The nursery is all taped off and ready to be painted when I'm out of town this weekend. See?



This month I'm hoping to get a lot of the "big" stuff purchased so we can focus on stocking up on little things in the fall. I'm OK with buying onesies and facecloths when I'm the size of a small planet. Lugging furniture around and setting up a room, hmm, we'll see.

In terms of updates and how I'm feeling, the answer continues to be "awesome". I feel very blessed to be having what's apparently a pretty easy go of things so far, knock on wood. I have been going to the gym every day, eating like a sane person, and not experiencing too many meltdowns. My one side effect is that my belly button hurts. It's still an innie, but it's looking all stretched and shallow and awful and it hurts if you touch it. I know it's going to pop soon, and I know I will cry on that day.


My 26-week bump photo. I promise it looks more gargantuan IRL.

Every day our baby goes through a pretty rigorous set of exercises that we can feel and see really clearly. Seeing them move around never gets old, and I love it. I love tapping on my belly to wake them up and getting a cranky kick in return. I have little one-sided conversations with them throughout the day.

It sounds strange to say but I love being pregnant. It's not what I expected. I was anticipating months and months of throwing up, crying jags, peeing myself and constant discomfort but so far it's really agreeing with me and I'm trying to enjoy it now. Before long, bambino will be here and I'll be getting barfed/pooped/peed on and cried and screamed at. But right now, things are good and I'm having fun hanging out with my little buddy all day while they pummel my insides and try to kick their way to freedom.

Since becoming preggo, we have answered lots of questions from friends, family members, random acquaintances, etc. Here our some of our pregnancy FAQs and the answers. If you have a question, ask away - I promise to answer honestly!!

1. Was it planned? Yeaaah...people actually asked this obnoxious question. Why this is important information to anyone, I'm not sure. The answer is yes, "it" was planned. We have been talking about having a baby this year for more than a year previous...probably since shortly after we got married. We knew we wanted a bit of time to just enjoy being married, but for some reason, 30 felt like a good age to take the big plunge.

In the interest of full disclosure, I went off the pill in early January, and got pregnant in February. We found out on March 8. So yes, this baby was very much planned, not that it matters either way - we'd love them regardless.

2. What did you do when you found out? Jumped up and down and screeched mostly. A little crying. Lots of hugging. We were psyched and despite the "planning" were totally surprised at the positive test result. We figured it would take longer for nature to take its course. Of course Peter takes all the credit. Sorry dude...I think I might have had something to do with it too.

3. Are you going to find out the sex? Nope. In Nova Scotia, doctors won't tell the sex of the baby - you have to go to a 3D ultrasound. We decided to save our pennies and get surprised.

4. Do you think you're having a boy or a girl? It depends on the day. At the beginning I would have bet the farm it was a boy. Lately, I feel like it's a girl. On certain days the baby is extra obnoxious with the kicks, and I refer to it as "he"...as in "he's being a little bugger today!" It's fun to wonder and anticipate the surprise and we have no preferences either way.

5. Do you have names picked out? Finally we have names we're leaning towards...they're top secret though!

6. Are you worried about your vagina? Yes.

7. Are you getting nervous? At our first prenatal class I flipped ahead in the book to the page where they've drawn circles to represent how big you dilate. I blanched, gagged and slammed the book shut. I had to put my head down on the table. Nervous is an understatement.

Here's the aforementioned textbook with the circles page. See that bottom circle? The one that's like as big as my fully formed adult head? That's 10 centimetres. That's how big "stuff" needs to get. Percolate on that visual.



8. Do you plan to breastfeed? Yes...again, understanding that "plans" and reality don't always line up. We'll give it a go, knowing that there are other options if it doesn't work out. I know not everyone is able to breastfeed so we'll see.

9. Do you crave any weird foods? Not at all. I have been eating pretty normally, not really changing too much from what I ate before other than cutting out the forbidden foods. I've been eating more fruit for snacks, and just trying to be really conscious about eating a balanced diet and not too much of anything.

10. How are you feeling? This is the #1 most frequently asked question, but I don't mind hearing it! I have been feeling great the whole pregnancy so far, with no complaints at all. I was a little tired in the beginning but it was a good excuse to get to bed early. The second trimester has been bomb. I have lots of energy and don't even feel pregnant, just really healthy - until I see my reflection in the mirror and then it's like WHOA momma. You is huge.

11. Are you having a natural birth? Let me put it to you this way. Pushing a six-to-nine pound being out of your vajayjay is as unnatural as you can get, according to this bear. I admire women who opt to go the natural route, but I'm not one of them. I don't want to be a hero. I'm a big wimp. And I want drugs. I want epidurals and laughing gases and magic mushrooms. I want to be completely out of my tree when that baby makes its appearance. I want to be stroking the furry walls and seeing Jesus.

Any other questions?

It's been one year since we packed up our old apartment and picked up the keys to our new house. While we've lived in lots of other places, we still refer to this as "our first home".

A lot has happened in the past year:

[+] we painted four rooms and very quickly learned that it does not, in fact, take 45 minutes to paint a room (yes, that's what we were told, and we believed it. ignorance is bliss)

[+] we put in a fireplace. It's electric. It still counts! You can hang Christmas stockings on it!

[+] we survived two ant infestations...and won

[+] we mastered the schedule of compost pickup and garbage pickup and learned the importance of bungie cords

[+] we installed a remote garage door opener. LIFE CHANGING!!

[+] we made a new flower bed, planted a couple trees, some shrubs and lots of flowers

[+] we discovered that curtains are actually the hardest things to buy

[+] we invested in a barbecue and have grilled just about everything you can imagine

[+] we set up a firepit and seating, perfect for making s'mores and spider dogs

[+] we swore we'll never own a side-by-side fridge/freezer again

[+] we had our first batch of trick-or-treaters

[+] we set off our security alarm accidentally. This happened a lot. Next time the cops come to check it out, we'll get a bill...oops

[+] we put up outdoor Christmas lights for the first time

[+] we built a snowman in the yard and made snow angels

[+] we got a puppy

[+] and now we're having a baby

It's been a busy year, to say the least. We have lots more planned for our house this year: staining the front and back steps, setting up the nursery, replacing some lighting, renovating a bathroom, and making some other changes. We also have big changes planned too, things that are going to be more costly and take a lot of time, but we'll get there.

It's definitely a work in progress, but it feels like home, and it's my favourite place to be.

Next project is turning this bedroom (which currently houses yoga mats, a TV stand, a piano, free weights, a mishmash of potted plants and some random furniture we didn't know where else to put) into a baby's room. As you can see, we've got a bit of a start. We have a crib, a rubber giraffe, a Pooh Bear, some books, diapers, a sling and a car seat = PROGRESS!






We've even got some paint swatches (I'm leaning towards Baby Bee Yellow).



If anyone has any baby-room-makin' tips, links, resources, etc. please send them along. We currently have no theme in mind, other than "cute" and "gender neutral".

We're 23 and a half weeks along so far, which means officially more than halfway to baby land - less than four months to go. This both excites and frightens the hell out of me. I can't wait to meet our little miss or mister, but there's still so much to do before he or she arrives in early November. We have done nothing to the nursery yet, other than purchasing a crib that the baby won't even sleep in until it's a few months old (priorities what?!) We finally picked out a stroller and car seat this weekend, but strollers are definitely right up there with life's great mysteries. (WHY OH WHY ARE THERE SO MANY STROLLERS?) Right now, other than the aforementioned items, we own four pairs of socks, one pair of booties, one 3-6 month sleeper, one Sophie the Giraffe, one Pooh Bear, and six books for the baby - so while it'll be mostly naked and wild, it'll at least be well-read and have warm feet.

I have been feeling good. Surprisingly good. Like, maybe better than before getting knocked up. I've been careful about getting lots of sleep, exercising every day and eating healthfully and I think it's paying off. These past few weeks I've had lots of energy and have just been feeling healthy. The weight gain is surprising to me. I'm up about 10 pounds total, but the only things that seem to be getting bigger are the bump and (people who know me IRL please stop reading now) zee boobinks. They may not look like much in this picture but oh, I can tell the difference. And it doesn't make sense - I'm not really eating extra, and I'm working out just as much, if not more with daily walks on top of gym visits - where is this coming from?! This kid is en route to weigh 25 pounds at birth.

Nesting is also a thing and right now I have a list of about 25 things I want to change about our house NOWNOWNOW - from replacing light fixtures to pretty much a whole new kitchen. I know it's unrealistic and not going to happen. We've picked out a few projects for over the summer, staining the doorstep, getting new outside lighting, obviously doing the baby's room over and maybe a couple other smallish things.

Feeling the baby kick puts the biggest smiles on my face these days. Over the past couple of weeks, they have gotten really active. The kicks are too little to hurt - it just kind of feels like being flicked from inside but it's the coolest, weirdest feeling and I love it. We've seen the baby move a bunch too, little pokes, which just does not get old. It's my absolute favourite thing. Before this, I always thought having a tiny human growing inside would be horrible, like some sort of alien parasite that takes over your body from within, but it's actually nice to have a little friend that goes everywhere with me. I talk to the baby when we're stuck in traffic, I sing to it in the car, I scratch it when it pokes me. I say "good morning" every day when we wake up and "good night" before we go to sleep.

We just got back from a week at the beach, and after not seeing myself in a full-length mirror for several days I was shocked at my reflection on coming home. My belly is popping for sure. I still haven't been fondled by any strangers at the grocery store but I feel like it's starting to look less like a beer belly and more like a bebe.

To sum up: it's weird and scary and overwhelming and probably the most amazing thing I have ever gotten to experience.

So I dropped 20 bucks on that thing last night. Apparently, this is not JUST a giraffe. From what I've been told this small rubber animal is the key to sanity and happiness for the first few months of a baby's life. For some reason, all babies go apeshit for this toy and it entertains them, soothes them, keeps them calm, and one of my friends described it as being "like crack to babies." I expect it to shoot glitter magic fairy dust out its ass when you squeeze it and to emit some kind of happy-baby-tranquilizer gas as it's slobbered on.

When I first started noticing Sophie the Giraffe clutched in infants' paws in strollers everywhere, all I thought was, "didn't I see a kid with that thing the other day?" Then I heard from one of my mommy acquaintances that Sophie is the bomb for babies. All natural rubber, soft body, perfect for teething, yada yada. Also, it's been around for 50 years this year so it must have some pretty solid star qualities.

So when we found out we had a bun in the oven, I grabbed a Sophie when I was browsing in Toys R Us one day, in an effort to be a good mom and choose only the best for my baby. I turned the package over...

TWENTY SIX DOLLARS?!?!

FOR A RUBBER TOY???

I threw it back in the bin and immediately began composing a mental list of things I could buy for $26.

1. A manicure on one hand.
2. A bottle of good wine.
3. Two bottles of meh wine.
4. A movie date for two on cheap night (let's be honest, the only night of the week I offer to pay for a movie date.)
5. Paying off my library fines.
6. Season four of Friday Night Lights on DVD.
7. A week's worth of lattes.

Our dog has a whole bunch of rubber toys that squeak too and not one of them was over $10. And he teethed successfully and is mostly well-adjusted and normal. I figured throwing a Kong into the baby's crib for them to chew on would not be the worst idea ever.

Then, last night, we were at Chapters and lo and behold, the Sophie gift sets had a bright orange "50% Off" sticker on them. Not being one to resist the lure of the sale sticker, I investigated further. The thing was $40 (FORTY!!!!!!!!!!) but it includes a Sophie towel and fancy gift box as well as the fabled giraffe itself. So for the low, low price of 20 bones, our baby will not only have the crack-giraffe but also a box to put it in and a towel to poop on. #winning

We got it home, opened the box and Peter and I took turns chewing on the giraffe's ears and legs to see what all the fuss was about. We didn't get high but she is pretty cute, and we figured anything that will maintain some semblance of peace and quiet in our home in a few months is well worth the cost of a bucket of KFC.

The first full day of summer feels like an appropriate time to talk about bathing suit shopping, no? In less than two weeks, we'll be packing up the car and heading to the cottage for a full week of eating nothing but fried clams and barbecued steaks, smearing on Hawaiian Tropic and reading dozens of trashy magazines and teenybopper novels in the sand.

My idea of heaven...except this means I have less than two weeks to find a new bathing suit.

I hate bathing suit shopping at the best of times. I hate fluorescent lights in dressing rooms that make me look like a mottled, pasty white witch with translucent skin. I hate when the tops sag and the bottoms dig in, painfully obvious reminders of where I'm lacking and where I've got more than enough. I try to go right after a workout and before mealtime so at least I don't have the added bonus of a post-meal pooch sticking out and making me feel even more like clawing my eyeballs out of my head.

You know how you're not supposed to go grocery shopping hungry? The opposite is true of bathing suit shopping. BE AS HUNGRY AS YOU CAN.

Here's the thing. Once I get to the beach I'm OK. The hateful fluorescent lights are gone, the sun is shining, and you can dig a little bum-hole in the sand (NOT HOW IT SOUNDS) to make yourself look skinnier when you lay out. You can take advantage of things like strategically-placed towels, artfully draped sarongs, layers upon layers of self-tanner and huge sunglasses to help distract from any flaws. Usually I have an initial uncomfortable hour or so where it's like, "I should NOT be this undressed in public" and then I get drunk comfortable and I'm good to go for the rest of the summer.

But the trying on of the suits? Harsh, harsh, harsh. When I die and go to hell I will spend eternity wearing a slightly-too-small bikini in the Winners dressing room. And Nickelback will be playing in a continuous loop, and there will be only boiled ham dinner to eat, and the room will be full of cats.

Anyway, this year there's the added bonus of having what is currently a mango-sized bun in the oven, and by July who knows what type of produce it'll have grown to. Now we've all seen pregnant ladies rocking the bikini and looking amazing and cute but this girl normally refuses to eat any bread for 36 hours prior to a beach visit - I don't think I can deal with my stomach sticking out this much, even if there's a baby to blame. Which leaves me with a few matronly options: the one-piece and the tankini.

My soul just died a little bit typing those words.

So, I'm sitting here googling maternity swimsuits to see what amazing options we can come up with.

I started off at Thyme Maternity.

While this suit is adorable, I don't think I can have the mango exposed like this. I just don't think it would be cute. I don't have a big preggers belly yet - it still looks like a potbelly - so I can't get away with flaunting motherhood when I more closely resemble a slightly troubled girl at the tail end of freshman year after a few too many drop-kick-me-Jesus parties with the football team and hungover McDonald's feasts the next day.



Motherhood Maternity was next on my list, and this one-piece caught my eye. I like the pattern and the style is a little more interesting than your basic tank suit:



Old Navy's Canadian website doesn't offer maternity options anymore. WTF? Canadians don't reproduce? However, the American website has a black one-piece halter suit that I like and some tankinis that aren't totally vulgar as well. In fact, for this summer I maaay even be able to get away with buying a tankini top in the regular section, just a size up, and pairing it with bottoms I already own.







After writing this post I actually feel better, not worse. There may actually be a suit for me out there. If I have any luck finding anything I'll share it here. Just don't expect pictures of me modeling it.

18 weeks today. Hooooo doggies. I can't believe we're almost halfway there.

*panic*

Until we figure out a better method of getting these belly pictures - i.e., NOT me standing in front of the bathroom mirror taking blurry selfies and then frigging with Photoshop to adjust them afterwards - this will have to do. I think you get the point. I've got what appears to be a well developed beer gut.



I don't want to say too much for fear of jinxing myself but so far, this has not been that bad. I'm still feeling good, still going to the gym, still not craving turkey legs slathered in chocolate frosting...I consider myself very lucky. It's a wild night if I'm awake after 9:00 pm.

But the feelings.

Ohhhh, the feelings.

I shit you guys not. I have cried more in the past four months than probably in the past five years combined, and over the stupidest things. I have cried over everything from a Google commercial to a full garbage can with no buildup or prior warning...just BAM! TEARS!

Here's a classic example. Last night, Peter and I were getting ready to go to the gym. I started sooking about being fat. I tried on all my jeans (which obviously no longer fasten, hence me wearing leggings and dresses every single day for the past month) and couldn't get any of them buttoned up. So of course, this escalated into tears.

After a few minutes, I stopped being foolish, got my act together, and drove us to the gym. But on the way there I could feel it welling up and I knew I wasn't done yet. Hoo no, lots more emotions where that came from!

I pulled into the gym parking lot and there was some hillbilly in a truck parked where he wasn't supposed to. Kinda, sorta, but yet not at all blocking my route through the parking lot. "Move move move move MOVE WHY WON'T YOU MOVE?!" I screamed at him. Then of course I burst into full on sobs. I pulled into a parking space and bawled for about five minutes. I can't tell you why...I know I'm a complete psycho. We switched seats and Peter drove us home. I blatted the whole way there. I stomped into the house and refused to eat any supper and finally agreed to a bowl of cereal after my little outburst was over. And then we watched TV and I was laughing and fine.

I don't know why I'm painting this insane picture of myself for the internet to read and judge, other than to confirm that everything you hear about pregnancy hormones is true. They're real and they're terrifying.

My best moment all week was Wednesday morning, when I'm pretty sure, almost positive, I felt the baby move for the first time. So even despite the expanding waistline and crying jags and remaining completely sober for the longest consecutive time since I was probably 15, it's also true that the wonderful moments far outweigh the bad.

On Saturday night, I dreamed we went for our first ultrasound. The ultrasound tech prefaced the appointment by telling us quite firmly, "We are NOT going to tell you the sex of this baby."

I looked at the screen and the baby was in profile and it had a major erection. There was its baby penis sticking straight out clear as day.

"I don't think it's a surprise..." I told her as we all turned and stared at the photo of this well endowed and very excited fetus.

I woke up completely creeped out.

When I was very small, I learned to equate having children with a funless existence. As a kid, I played with Barbies, not dolls. Barbie was grown up. She was pretty and fun. She had a boyfriend and a job and an endless assortment of outfits. Dolls were annoying and needed to be fed, burped, and carted around everywhere. They had diapers and bottles and stupid facial expressions.

I heard comments like "She looks amazing...for having three kids" and "THEY can spend two weeks at the beach. THEY don't have two kids in swimming lessons." It didn't take long for my small brain to compute that kids = the end of the funs.

I have always been deathly afraid of getting pregnant and giving birth. The whole thing seemed barbaric, disgusting and awful and was something I didn't want to be part of. Since high school I've been trumpeting about the benefits of not having children.

Over the past couple of years, as people started to really pressure us about starting a family I've been afraid of more than just the discomfort of pregnancy and the goriness of childbirth. I'm scared of being a bad mother. Of not being responsible or mature enough to look after someone other than myself. Of not being able to provide a good life for a child. I'm afraid that I'm lacking a compassion gene, that I have zero mothering instinct.

When we started talking about growing our family, we were both "pretty sure" it was a good time. Biologically it makes sense, financially we're OK, we're young enough that we'll be young parents, we're old enough that we've had a chance to do some traveling and partying and all that. There were lots of reasons why it's a good time, and far fewer reasons why it's not.

I know Peter will be a terrific dad. He's so patient, level headed and encouraging. I tend to be a little more, how should I put this...shrieky. Shrieky and impatient and sometimes downright mean. I hate whining and I can't deal with laziness. I lose patience when I have to explain something more than once or twice. I can just hear a little voice asking "why? why? why?" over and over again and can picture myself completely losing it.

"It's different when it's your own baby," everyone says. "You'll get the hang of it." What if I don't? What if I can't?

What if I can't stand the pain of giving birth?

What if I don't like the baby?

What if the baby hates me?

I'm afraid for our baby's health. Every time I feel the tiniest twinge, I freak out. What was that? Before we heard the heartbeat I was scared there was something wrong with the baby because I hadn't had any symptoms. I had a positive pregnancy test and positive bloodwork to confirm I was pregnant. No ultrasound. No morning sickness. No weird cravings. I wasn't showing. I was convinced the baby had disappeared. I heard horrible stories about blighted ovum and missed miscarriages and all these other tragic, awful things that can go wrong.

I read in a well-known and well-respected book on pregnancy that women who experience a lot of morning sickness should be happy because "it's believed that morning sickness means you're far less likely to miscarry!" Well, that's pretty reassuring for those of us who aren't sick, isn't it? I was almost sure it had happened to us, until we heard that swisha-swisha-swisha sound. It was almost a surprise to hear that things were OK.

I'm still terrified every day that something is going to go wrong. I'm scared to use plastic food containers or touch ATM receipts or eat fruit that's not organic.

If I don't do something that completely messes up the child physically or intellectually I'm scared I'll mess it up emotionally.

Contrary to how this post might sound, the other 99% of me is thrilled and excited, but there's a little sliver that's frightened all the time.

On Sunday, we decided to go see Bridesmaids. It was OK that we made this decision at 6:15 and the movie started at 6:30 because we live a five-minute drive from the theatre, which still leaves you with a solid 10 minutes to get parked, get snacks, find seats, and skip the pre-previews. Easy peasy, right?

We got our tickets and went to find seats, and the plan was Peter would run back out and buy snacks while I held our seats. The theatre was pretty close to full, but we were able to find two seats together at the end of one of the rows near the front but not in the crane-your-necks section. There were two empty seats at the end of the row, then there was a coat thrown across the two seats next to it, and then people. So presumably the two seats next to us were saved. No big deal. So I took one of the free seats and Peter went out to get our food.

The previews started and I turned off my phone, took off my coat, got all comfy and such. This included unbuttoning my jeans. Truth. I'm 15 weeks pregnant, and by the end of the day that shit gets uncomfortable. It's not like squishy fat you can tuck and compress out of the way. It's a rock-hard ute. There is a difference. Be prepared for more of these TMI anecdotes over the next, ohhh, five and a half months.

To pass the time, I started playing Word Mole on my Blackberry. If you have a Blackberry, you need to get Word Mole. This game is my lifesaver every time I have to wait - the doctor's office, the DMV, or avoiding watching previews for Cowboys vs. Aliens or whatever the hell they tried to get us geared up for on Sunday.

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my Word Mole reverie by a raging case of bitchvoice next to me. "Ummmm, we had saved those three seats," I heard. I looked up and there's a cluster of bimbos, arms laden down with popcorn and pops, standing in the aisle next to me.

I just blinked at them (not unlike a mole.) "What? You had three seats?"

"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuhhhh," as if "yeah" is a three-syllable word, reported Chief Bimbo.

"Oh, sorry," I muttered. "It looked like only two..." I hustled to get everything together: coat, bag, Blackberry, Blackberry case, and stood up. My unbuttoned pants gapped and threatened to fall. Stay up, stay up, stay up, I silently willed my pants as I pushed past the rocket scientists and hurried down to the next available seats.

In the second row.

In the crane-your-neck section.

Saddest face.

As I sat there with my head tilted backward at a 30 degree angle attempting to see the screen, I got madder and madder. Who saves three seats but only covers two? Who is that stupid? If there's three or more of you, one stays behind and saves the seats. It's seat saving 101. I felt like going back and telling them off. What kind of hillbilly doesn't know the rules of saving seats?

All through the movie I was pissed off. "I hate them," I hissed at Peter several times. "I'm going to throw something at them."

At the end of the movie I was finally going to make my move. "Hope they enjoyed their awesome seats," I growled. "I'm going back to tell them off."

"Fasten your pants up and let's go," he told me.

This is what it's come to. No more movie theatre fights. I'm just a fat girl who gets bullied at the movies and can't even fasten her pants.

"Fine, whatever. But I'm going to blog about this," I promised.

Remember how I gave up alcohol for Lent? And then I got all bitchy and indignant because lots of people jumped to the conclusion I was pregnant, and was all, CAN'T A PERSON JUST GET OFF THE BOOZE FOR A FEW WEEKS?

Um...they were right. On March 8, Pete and I found out we're expecting and I am SO happy to finally be able to talk about it!

We heard our little monkey's heartbeat on Tuesday for the first time and in an instant, what has felt like a beer belly and a bit of sleepiness over the past three months finally hit home: there's a tiny, living, growing person in there.

We'll be parents in November. By Christmas, we'll be a family of three (well, four, if you count Rory.) November 10 is my due date, but I'm secretly kinda hoping for an 11-11-11 baby. Oh, and I'm convinced it's a boy.

In terms of a pregnancy update, I don't have much to report. I've been feeling great. The first trimester brought lots of sleepiness, and mood swings aplenty, but none of the ickyness I've heard of from other moms-to-be. There was no morning sickness, no crazy food cravings. I gained two pounds between my 10-week and 14-week appointments, but I'm still (more or less) wearing my normal clothes. When I wake up in the morning, I look pretty normal. By midday I look like I've swallowed a grapefruit whole.

As of today, I'm 15 weeks pregnant, and according to thebump.com I have 175 days to go and baby is the size of a navel orange. This both excites and panics me. It seems like a long way away. It's not. There's so much to do. As of now, we own four pairs of socks and one doorknob hanger for the baby. We know nothing about having a baby or caring for a little person. We've never changed a diaper or fed a baby. We'll just have to figure it out.

I have been ostriching hardcore about giving birth and just concentrating instead on all the lovely drugs I'll get. I don't want to hear about tearing and stitches and 48-hour labours. I've been reading pregnancy books, but it still feels like I'm reading them on someone else's behalf. "Oh, this sounds hideous. It's too bad ALL THOSE GIRLS have to go through it." Denial FTW.

So, that's my big news. Be prepared for bump pictures, if/when I start looking pregnant and not like I've been on a donut binge, as well as regular updates and insights into the wonderful world of being a mom-to-be.

So far, in a nutshell: it's not that bad. I feel like a slightly healthier and more rested version of myself. I like being pregnant, but I do miss my eggs benedict and sushi and the occasional turkey deli sandwich.

Best of all is how much we love this little person already, and we haven't even met yet.