Alien? No, it's a baby...

20 weeks today! Holy crap, has this gone by fast!! I'm hitting the halfway mark, and at this point, I feel like we're scrambling to get ready. I guess not so much scrambling as realizing, "wow, if the first half went by this fast, then the second half will be over before we know it."

My belly is starting to pop, my clothes don't fit, and I'm running to the bathroom every ten minutes. 

I've gone this far without buying maternity pants, but looks like I'm going to have to give in very soon. Bella bands are great when you can't button your pants anymore, but when you can't zip them either? I think that's a sign it's time to start shopping more in the maternity section. But what does getting bigger mean? Means you're baby is growing, healthy, and if you thought he/she had taken over your body before, think again.

I've been feeling twinges for a couple of weeks now, but for the past few days, I swear that kid is doing olympic-worthy gymnastics in there. I can actually feel the little bugger rolling around and, yes, kicking the crap out of me. It freaked me out at first, and I automatically had these images from the movie Alien when the nasty critter pushes it's way through the guy's stomach. Yeah. That's me. Instead of having a tear-jerker moment, I think of a screaming, brutal extraterrestrial. 

What can I say? After I got used to it, though, it became less weird and more amazing, making the whole thing a little less surreal and a lot more real. 

Poor Taylor. He wants so bad to feel this kid kick, and every time I feel something, he puts his hand on my belly and you know what? The baby stops moving. As if he/she's playing this mischievous little game, "let's see how frustrated I can make Daddy." I'm sure it won't be the last time.

The funny thing is, I swear I can feel movements on the outside, little pushes against my hand, but that's only for the past two days or so. Taylor thinks it's because I'm feeling it on the inside, so my mind is tricking me, but I've been feeling twinges and kicks for a couple of weeks now, and this is definitely different. Of course, he won't believe me until he feels it for himself. 

Feeling this little munchkin move around is cool, but sometimes the fact that he/she can wiggle into places where nothing has wiggled before = OUCH! 

A little over a week ago, I had a hard time sitting down. Walking. Laying. Pretty much just being conscious. Apparently, little Mahaffey found a comfy spot right on my tailbone. Actually it felt less like he/she was getting comfy than he/she was having a party and tap dancing on my sciatic nerve. Now I could sugar-coat it and say that my lower back and legs hurt, but let's be honest here. This kid was literally a pain in my ass. I felt like Forrest Gump, but instead of the whole something "jumped up and bit me," I felt like something tomahawked a sledgehammer into my backside. 

More than appropriate...

One sick day of being horizontal later (yup, it hurt so bad, I couldn't go to work), and all was well. 

Another thing I find funny about this pregnancy is the fact that I have a super nose. I can smell everything. Taylor prides himself on having super senses, and I used to swear he was making up half the smells he claimed his divine schnauze could supposedly detect, but I get it now. Oh boy, do I get it. You think having well-honed senses would be cool? Ummm... when you have a gassy husband, think again. I swear he could patent that stuff and sell it to the government as a secret weapon. We'd be millionaires and world peace would prevail. 

Aliens, throbbing butt cheeks, and stink-bombs aside, this is starting to feel real! My friend at work brought in her baby the other day, and while babies usually freak me out a little and make me nervous, I was surprisingly fine. Yeah, I've always been that person. The one who stands in the background praying they won't ask me if I want to hold him/her while everyone else goes googoogaga begging for a turn. It's just the way I've always been, but seeing my friend's little guy got me pretty excited, and knowing I can be a semi-normal person when it comes to babies is pretty encouraging. Why encouraging? Because I've never been great with kids and the fact that they make me nervous made me... well... nervous when I found out I was having my own. However, pretty sure this is a whole new set of circumstances.

Now that I've hit the halfway mark, there's a lot to do. The baby's room. Baby stuff. More baby stuff. And more baby stuff. Reading. Researching. Praying. Plus, I need to register at the hospital and start thinking of a birthing plan. A what? Wow. I'm looking through my thick preadmission packet right now and... umm... 

That's a post for another week, I think. Don't want to get too overwhelmed in one sitting. 

Cheers!

Boy or Girl?

The big debate. What's it gonna be? We find out July 5th ~ a mere three weeks away ~ what path our lives are going to take, because ultimately, gender is a huge deal. Most people say it doesn't matter, and really, in regards to health and happiness, it doesn't. But I'm pretty sure having a boy is a lot different than having a girl and vice versa.

Personally, I think it's a boy. Don't hold me to it, but I just have a feeling. I've had dreams about it, which I take as a very serious sign (or it could very well just be my preggo brain playing tricks on me), and given Taylor's family history, it just seems likely that we'll have a boy. 

I'll be happy with either, but get Taylor talking about it, and the guy literally starts shaking with nervousness. I'm not exaggerating. He even took the entire day of July 5th off (even though my appointment is early in the morning). 

The idea of having a girl scares the living crap out of him. He'll see these preteens or teenagers walking around with shorts that have no right to be labeled shorts and plunging necklines, and every time since we found out we were pregnant, he shakes his head, takes a nervous breath and says, "I hope I don't have a daughter." It's because he knows he'll probably end up in jail trying to beat up any "scumbag" who looks even once at her. 

I always tell him that the baby isn't going to come out a hormonal teenager, but there's no calming him. I also tell him that if we do have a daughter, we can raise her to think independently and be confident. She won't need to dress like... well, if you know Taylor at all, you know how he finishes that sentence. 

My great friend Rachael is one of the few I know who believes that we are destined to have a girl. Her exact words are, "I think Taylor needs to raise a girl. He's so terrified of it that I think God is going to give you a daughter." This totally makes sense, and given the way things work for Taylor, there's a very good chance it's true. 

I don't believe in chance or coincidence, and I'm really on the fence about luck. There's been too many crazy things that have happened in my life for me to believe in anything other than fate. I've begun to trust in the signs that tell me what I need, even when it's scary, and in doing that, things always seem to fall into place, even if it's not exactly what I imagined for myself. As a result, even when I'm worried, there's always a little voice that says it'll all work out. And it always does. Perfectly.

Before, I would have been shocked to learn we were having a girl. But with all that's been said, the idea of surprise is waning because a daughter would make sense in the grand scheme of fate. Taylor would be facing what I've determined to be one of his biggest fears, and I would learn a great lesson in patience as I try to reign in the obsessive/controlling behavior as she gets older. 

Of course, I don't actually believe (too much, anyway) that Taylor will be the dad who cleans his gun on the front porch to scare away any unsuspecting boys. (Again, when he thinks daughter his mind immediately jumps to teenager.) I wouldn't exactly put it past him, but I know that if we did have a girl, he'd be a puddle of goo on the floor more often than not, and all the tough talk I hear now would more than likely flip its tone. 

I know it all comes from a good place, this worry and fear he has. I worry too sometimes about having a girl, because with everything you see in the news, how can you not? Having a girl instead of the boy we've always expected would change the perspective enormously, especially for Taylor. It's because he wants her to be safe, happy, and have a good head on her shoulders. But there's no doubt in my mind that with him as a father, if we had a girl, she'd be all those things. 

We'll see what happens. July 5th will be here before we know it, and I know either way, it's going to be a good day. 

Cheers!

Life is about to change. ?

Last night, Taylor surprised me by having everything together for a picnic by the time I got home. All I had to do was change out of my work clothes and he took care of the rest. He bought two chairs (ours got ruined over the winter), chips and dip, orange juice (for us who can't enjoy an adult beverage), and a nice big salad (because anything heavy lately just turns my stomach). He had it all thought out. And what's more? The day before, he had spent half his day off clearing a path to our favorite spot to the lake so we could drive our new car through the hordes of mosquitos so I wouldn't get eaten alive. (I can't use mosquito spray either.)

No, he doesn't have a brother. 

After we got set up right by the water and were enjoying the peace and quiet and the occasional jumping of a fish, we started talking about the things we'd want to do with our kid. Camping, for one. There's an island right in the middle of the lake, and with our canoe or the boat Taylor talks about getting all the time, we could easily make a weekend camping trip an adventure about five minutes from our home. 

We also talked about how we'd love to go camping way up in the remote north, away from practically everyone and everything. Taylor said he'd have loved to do that this summer, but with me being pregnant, being and hour or more away from any kind of help just didn't settle well with him. I told him that's one of things I would have liked to do before the reality of another little life came along, and what he said after that really kinda struck me in that obvious "duh" way.

He said that there's nothing he wants to do in his life that he can't do with a child by his side. 

The way people talk when you tell them you're expecting... they make it sound like your life is completely going to disappear and that everything you love to do now or would love to do in the future ~ basically everything that makes you who you are ~ goes up in smoke. I guess I started to believe that, and it was making me a little anxious and not a little scared of what to expect.

Honestly, though... people kind of suck when it comes to saying the right things. I don't know how many guys I've talked to about having kids who've said I'm going to turn into a maniacal B-you-know-what because all women (like their wives) get that way when they're pregnant, especially "when they're eight months and waddling around." Yeah. Thanks. I always want to tell them, "I'm surprised your obvious sensitivity didn't snap her out of it. Poor friggin' you for having to deal with a woman who barely has room for herself inside her own body."

I'm glad my guy has a lot more sense and understanding than that. And because he does, I do my best not to let my hormones get to me, or at least, not to affect him.

Anyway. I digress. Back to last night. We sat by the lake for about an hour and half, packed up our lovely new chairs, and drove the five minutes back to our house to watch an episode of Dexter. That's what we do. We have "movie/show" nights all the time. I grab my pillows and blankets, he grabs a beer, sometimes I make popcorn, and we make it a date. It's awesome, but still that little nagging thought came into my head.

This may be one of the last times we're able to do this. 

After the mind-blowing show (I love Dexter), we got to talking again, and I told him about these fears that were starting to bother me. Even with what he said before about being able to do anything in this life, even with a kid, everyone always tells me that my life will turn upside down and that all I have to look forward to are diaper explosions, spit-up, and constant crying. And, really stupid me, I was beginning to allow them to get to me. 

Taylor, in the way that he always does, made me believe otherwise. He basically said, in so many words, there's nothing we need to give up. We can have it all, if we make time for it, and just because our lives will be changing, that doesn't mean our lives are going to disappear. 

Just because people say one thing about their experiences doesn't mean that those will be what you have to expect. You can do things your way, and while the messy stuff will fit in there somewhere and things will most definitely change, it doesn't mean that you have to give up who you are. 

Sometimes my fear gets the best of me and makes me forget all the things that are possible. I remember my parents and how, instead of not doing things, just took us with them. I saw more concerts by the time I was five than some twenty-five year olds I know. Beach camping for more weekends than I can count is also something I vividly remember. My mom told me once that you have to raise a kid to fit your lifestyle and how you hope for them to live. That makes much more sense than what these other people I barely know tell me. I'm not listening to people anymore unless they know who I am.

The moral to the story? Kids become a part of your life. They don't take it away.

Cheers!