What a Bummer...

I promise to get to the birth story post soon. But for now, I just want to leave you with the following link.

This guy delivered my baby.

The Interview

So my good friend Jennifer Bartman, who's crazies many of you have experienced, decided to ask me the most ridiculous pregnancy related questions she could think of. Naturally, I enabled her shenanigans by answering in an equally ridiculous fashion.

So...here it is, for your reading enjoyment:

JB: How pregnant are you? 
ME: A million.

JB: Do you now own any muumuus? 
ME: No, but Will just got his!

JB: I heard you are a virgin, is that true?
ME: Yes, yes it is. It's amazing what you can accomplish with a turkey baster and some free time.

JB: So you were not impregnated by the holy ghost? 
ME: Not unless his alias is KitchenAid

JB: What do you think the race of the baby will be?
ME: Well, neither one of us is very athletic, so at most, 100 meter dash. Definitely not a marathoner.

JB: What will he be when he grows up?
ME: Probably like 5'9" at best.

JB:I heard you have three or four moms. How many moms is your baby going to have?
ME: I'm not sure, but we are currently accepting applications. Send resume, and an essay answering the question, "Ways in which I will keep your child alive" to my email.

JB: Can I be one? 
ME: I haven't received your application
 

JB: If the thing in your stomach is actually an alien, do you think it will be a friendly alien or a maniacal alien?

ME: Hmm, well...since Will likes to talk to strangers, I'm thinking he'll be a friendly alien. But just to be prepared, we bought "Raising Aliens for Dummies" - both the friendly and maniacal editions

JB: How sexy does Will think your belly is?

ME: Let's just say it's good that he's always had a thing for Santa Claus 

JB: I heard you and Will have are planning to turn the baby into a killing machine. How have you been prepping him so far?
ME: We put American Psycho on repeat on an old ipod, and shoved it up my hoo ha.

JB:Can I give him nunchucks for his first birthday?
ME: NO. We have a strict "no nunchucks until you're 3" policy in our house. A taser is acceptable, though

JB: If the baby is fat, how will you help him lose the weight?
ME: No need! We'll just get these: http://vodpod.com/watch/4746303-baby-spanx

JB: What qualities are you looking for in a full-time nanny? 
ME: Actually, we aren't looking for a full time nanny. We figured we'd just tie the baby to the dog. He pretty much stays on the couch all day anyway, so the baby will be safe. Plus, he'll get some fresh air while being dragged around the yard every few hours.

JB: What other animals will the baby ride? 

ME: Just the pony we got him for Christmas

JB: How much more welfare money will you be getting when the baby comes?
ME: We plan to start counting him as a disabled veteran immediately, so we're hoping for at least $1,000 a month. Between that and the dog's social security checks, I should be able to quit my job
JB: If I wanted to be pregnant myself, how would I get started?
ME: If you have a turkey baster, then you're ready to go!

Clearly, we have too much free time.

Q & A

As the day draws nearer and nearer, I am increasingly getting asked several questions and comments that I find to be slightly ridiculous. Here they are, in no particular order.

No offense if you have asked or made one or more of these questions or comments. I get it. I'm sure I've asked other pregnant women the same things. I don't mind answering the questions, but they ARE kind of silly once you stop and think about them.

Q.) Are you getting excited?
A.) Eh, not really. I mean, it's not like I'm winning the lottery or anything. Just producing a person that will keep me awake and covered in bodily fluids for several weeks. What's so exciting about that?

Q.) Are you getting nervous/scared?
A.) Well I wasn't until you just mentioned it, thanks. Now all I can think about is how much pain I'm about to be in, and it's all YOUR fault!

Q.) You're due so soon!
A.) Really? I hadn't looked at a calendar in like 6 months. I had no idea!

Q.) You are so small for being due so soon!
A.) Thanks! I think? Or are you trying to tell me that I am starving my baby? I don't really have control over my size at the moment...but yeah, I'll take all the credit/blame.

Q.) Are you ready???
A.) Ready for going into labor? Ready to give birth? Ready to be responsible for a person? Ready for some football? Is it possible to really be ready for any of this?

Q.) Are your parents excited?
A.) Nope, not at all. They can't believe we'd be selfish enough to bring another person into the world who will demand their love and affection. We are such bastards!

Q.) I bet you want him out already!
A.) I mean, why rush? Carrying around 7 pounds of person is so much fun! I'll miss the days of getting a rolling start out of bed, not being able to reach my toes, and peeing every 5 minutes. Plus, it's not like I want to see what he looks like or anything.

Q.) I bet Will's excited!
A.) Actually, I haven't told him yet. He just thinks I need to lay off the burritos.

The Face Thing...

*Disclaimer: This post may be slightly inappropriate. That's how I know you'll like it.*

As of yesterday, we are officially at 37 weeks, which is considered full term. Holy crap.

Friday morning was my 36 week doctor's appointment. This marks the beginning of the end - the first of my now weekly appointments, and the first "internal" exam since very early on in this process.

The appointment started out pretty normally. Apparently my blood is very good at pressurizing itself, because the nurses always comment on how good my BP is. Nurse Mary asked me how I was feeling and marked a few things down in my chart. She then threw a little sheet at me and said, "the good appointments are the ones where you don't have to take your clothes off. You're done with the good appointments."

This is where things started to go downhill...

After a few minutes of awkward wait time, the doctor came in. She started with the usual feeling around my abdomen (from the outside) and measuring my growing bump.

She then put on a rubber glove that, according to Will, may have gone "up to the elbow," and proceeded to begin the internal exam. I must say, I was generally prepared for discomfort and awkwardness. I was not, however, prepared for it to hurt like *insert expletive of your choice* NOR was I prepared for the doctor to be casually asking us about our Thanksgiving plans during this...um, shall we say... intimate moment. It's rather difficult to discuss turkey and cranberry sauce while being violated by someone who hasn't even bought you dinner first.

After she finished taking any shred of modesty I had left, a nurse came in check the baby's heartbeat, which was unusually fast. My doctor explained, "I guess I surprised him when I turned his head!"

That makes two of us, lady. Seriously? She actually reached in *there* and touched my baby's head! Is that the craziest thing you've ever heard or what? I'm pretty sure if she had gone just a bit farther, she could have touched my tonsils.


The good news...I was officially one centimeter dilated and 50% effaced. Progress. (I made those clicky links in case you want to learn all about what's happening inside my body at the moment. You're welcome. Don't feel bad, I had to explain it to Will after the doctor left the room.)


Later that evening, Will was talking to his dad on the phone and said, "She's at one centimeter and her face thing is at 50%."


And ever since he found out we are making progress toward labor, he's been on high alert.


Example: I get up to pee in the middle of the night. I come back, he jumps up and says, "Are you ok???"
I get up to pee every night!


Example: I'm sitting on the couch and say "Ow!" He says, "Are you ok??? What's wrong???"
I'm ok. The dog stepped on my foot. Calm down.


Last night I told him maybe we needed a trigger word, and he agreed.

So you should all be prepared. If we're hanging out and I scream WATERMELON!... it's go time.

Bump!

Ok, several people have asked about pictures of me and my belly, so here are a few. These were taken yesterday, at 37 weeks exactly. I told Will I would only do it if he did too...

Belly to Belly!

Now there's a bump!

Sad face - this belly is inadequate!

Growing Humans & Healing Brains

Since pretty much everyone who reads this knows Kara, I figured this would be an appropriate place to list the similarities we've noticed between pregnancy and traumatic brain injury (TBI). Of course, there are many obvious differences, but there are some ways in which we can relate that you might not realize. So here goes:

Top 10 ways having a brain scramble is like being knocked up 

(the title was all Kara):

10. The most frequent incoming call on our phones is the automated doctors appointment reminder.

9. Short-term memory...what was I going to say? Oh yeah, we don't have it any more. That makes for fun shopping trips.

8. We have no control, and therefore, no accountability for, our emotions. If I burst into tears because the line at K-Mart was too long, you must comfort and console me. If Kara comes up with new, even more colorful, names for stupid drivers (think, "ass-pie"), you must encourage her creativity.

7. We no longer have control of our bodies. This includes: bodily functions and fluids, emotions, awareness, energy levels, hunger, and body temperature, just to name a few.

6. We no longer have impulse control. If I even think for one second about a pumpkin pie blizzard from Dairy Queen, I want one immediately (guess I know what's for dessert tonight!). If Kara sees something shiny in the store, she might just have to have it. This may not be the best for our wallets and waistlines, but it sure can be fun sometimes!

5. Friday nights were once spent at the "library" having fun and enjoying a few adult beverages. Now, I'm lucky if I can stay awake long enough to see Kara's bored facebook posts.

4. We used to enjoy an adult beverage from time to time. Now I slam organic milk and she rocks the Ensure.

3. We now both need pillboxes to keep track of our meds.

2. Instead of comparing tattoos, now we compare track marks from blood draws.

And the number one similarity between brain scramble and being knocked up is...

1. Neither one of us has any clue how to deal with this mess we've gotten ourselves into. But no matter what happens, she'll make sure my kid has a crazy amount of Aunt Kara love, and I'll make sure she puts her shoes on the right feet. :o)
 

Preparing the Older Siblings

The animals, of course.

We recently determined that our original plan to keep the nursery door closed is not going to work, as the room gets a bit chilly. So, I opened the door this week in order to give the animals time to go in and sniff around and adjust to the fact that they are now allowed in this room. Of course the cats think this must be some magical place full of exciting things. And it is.

There have already been several occasions of my chasing (and by chasing, I mean, waddling quickly) after Gus as he races under the dining room table with a stuffed animal in his mouth. The stuffed animals have now been moved high enough that neither Gus, nor our child, will ever be able to reach them.

I thought the glider would be safe from the cats...I mean, it moves! I specifically did not lock it in place, the hopes that when the cats tried to jump on it, it would freak them out and they'd find another place to lay. I also stuck the boppy pillow on the seat of the glider as yet another deterrent. Surely, that would not be a comfortable place for a catnap. This is what happened:

Cats 1, Me 0.

My biggest concern really is Gus and the crib. I can just imagine him discovering this perfect cat bed with a warm, tiny little human keeping it nice and cozy just for him. I am totally convinced that he will, in fact, lay directly on the baby.

My plan for this? Tin foil. I've covered the crib mattress with tin foil. I'm hoping that in the coming weeks before the baby arrives, Gus will get curious enough to jump into the crib, only to have a complete freak out when he jumps onto the loud, shiny surface of doom. Actually, I am rather looking forward to hearing the cacophony when it does happen.

With my luck though, I'll probably go upstairs one day to find him laying in the crib wearing a tin foil helmet.

The Beginning...

So it is November 12th. Exactly one month from today, we are due to bring Brenner 3.0 into the world. I've decided to create this blog for our many friends and family who want to hear about the ridiculous things that happen as we attempt to raise our child.

Here's how it all began:

Me: My period is very late. I'm going to take a pregnancy test tomorrow morning.

Will: Ok!

~ next morning ~

Me: There's something in the bathroom you need to go look at.

Will: [heavy sigh] Is it a centipede?

Me: Um, no, it's not a centipede...

Will: It's a spider, isn't it?

Me: No, it's not a freakin' spider! Will you just go upstairs and look?!?

Will: [finally...the brain light bulb flicks on] OH...well you wouldn't tell me to go look unless...

Me: You're killing me. Just go look!


So once we get over the initial shock and excitement, we firmly decide that we will wait until I go to the doctor to tell our parents and siblings and very close friends, and then we'll tell everyone else after the first trimester.

5 minutes later, Will is on the phone with his parents. So that plan works out well.

4 days later, my very intuitive friend Freya calls to ask if everything is ok because we've been quiet that week. She's afraid something is wrong. Secrecy plan FAIL.

And that's how it all began. Here are some highlights between then and now:

1st Trimester: My biggest fear is puking on the bus. This never happens. In fact, I never even get morning sickness. No weird food aversions, except coffee. I love coffee, but for this three months, I can't even stand the smell of it. Other than that, I feel pretty ok. Oh, except for the fact that I go from 0-ravenously hungry in about 2 seconds. One Saturday morning:

Will: You know how I know you're pregnant?

Me: How?

Will: You're eating a snack before breakfast.

Me: So?

Will: You just ate half a box of Cheeze-Its. It's 7:30 a.m.

Me: Oh. You want some?

2nd Trimester: I am completely, thoroughly, 1,500% sure that we are having a girl. Mother's intuition...sometimes, we just know these things. My mom knew she was having a girl, and now I know. It's just one of those things. Will tries to say he thinks it's a boy, but we all know he's just doing that to argue, so really, who's going to take him seriously?

Fast forward to 20 week ultrasound

It's a boy. Will literally jumps up and down in the ultrasound room. It takes me a few days to adjust to the idea that we are having a boy. I am definitely excited, and by no means upset about having a boy. I am, however, VERY upset that I was wrong. It's not even that I think I've already failed as a mother by not having the correct intuition. I just really, really hate it when I'm wrong!

3rd Trimester (so far): I finally look pregnant, and not just like I ate too many cheeseburgers. I'm feeling it too. Even though I've still managed to avoid most pregnancy discomforts, like heartburn and round ligament pain, my back is starting to hurt and I get these lovely stabbing, pinching pains somewhere near my bladder when I try to walk sometimes. Fun! I'm also getting kicked in the ribs regularly. I often need help getting up from the couch, and sleeping is getting less and less comfortable.

Of the things I've had to give up, the one thing I miss most? It's not smoking, or drinking, or jumping on trampolines...nope...sleeping on my stomach! I am convinced that as soon as I get home from the hospital, I am going to lay down for 5 minutes on my stomach and not move. And it will be glorious.