First Trimester

I will officially be 12 weeks pregnant on Saturday. The first trimester is over, and for all of you snarks out there, The Rev. was here for the conception. Do the math, he left at the end of May.

The nausea has gradually subsided, and I will readily admit I was pretty green for about a six week stretch. Now I get evening sickness, but I have found that if I eat plenty of starches it will go away. Many people have asked me about cravings, and I have had a few, random cravings that come and go for a few days. One week it was iceberg lettuce. I could not get enough iceberg lettuce salads with avocado, bacon, tomatoes, and ranch dressing. Now it is Granny Smith apples. I can eat two or three a day. The tangy sweetness just hits the spot. I can't explain the cravings, especially since I HATE ICEBERG lettuce and Granny Smiths are my least favorite apples. I guess I should say "were" because I ate eight apples in a two day stretch and then bought a dozen more from Costco.

As far as food aversions, I can't handle meat, either beef or chicken. I can taste the chicken in chicken and it makes me gag. Mexican food and Chinese food are out as well. The thought of teriyaki sauce churns my stomach. I have discovered a talent for eating boxes of macaroni and cheese. Yes, mom, I know this will make me fat, but when I have to balance the apple eating with something substantial. Surprisingly, I don't miss my coffee, but I do miss my glasses of wine.

Speaking of fat, I am surprised at my baby bump. I can't fit into any of my pants, and I give my favorite blue jeans one more week before I will not able to zip them. My skinny jeans have already been tossed to the side. I have found several cute, non-maternity dresses which are comfortable and I have taken to wearing them everyday. The bump is noticeable, and although the official announcement at work has been made, I still catch people looking at my stomach. "Is she really pregnant or has she just let herself go since her husband has been gone?"

The Rev., in case you are wondering, is alive and well in Mexico, and is bummed that he is missing out on my....blossoming. We have seven more weeks to go until he arrives home, and given that he has a knack for timing, we will find out the baby's sex upon his arrival home. I am OVER the fact that he is gone, and now it is just an impatient waiting until he arrives home in August. He wants me to come and visit him, but I am apprehensive about visiting a country where I will be unable to eat or drink anything.

My next doctor's appointment is next Thursday, and my mom is flying in so that she can see the work in progress. The Rev.'s mom was here a few weeks ago and she saw the earliest picture of the lima bean. That was my first impression when I saw the baby on the ultrasound screen, and I do know it has arms, because he/she waved to me. "Hi Mom! I'm Here!" I would have waved back, but my doctor already thinks I have fabricated a story about my husband being out of the country, and I don't want her to think that I am any more crazy than her initial first impression.

Incubation

The Rev. and I have been married for eight years. Many of those years were spent trying to start a family. Given that all of my friends my age are working on their 2nd or 3rd kid, and The Rev. has friends who have children working on driver's licenses, we know we are behind the ball in starting a family. After many long, heartfelt talks, we decided to start the process of adoption. We had adoption agency paperwork on our kitchen table, and most of the discussions surrounded "How much is this going to cost us?" International adoptions are expensive, local adoptions are much less so. Part of me felt that we were putting a price tag on the price of a child, and ultimately, a price on how much we were willing to pay to start a family.


After being married for eight years and with both of us seemingly the picture of health, people who don't know us have asked, "Do you have children?" "Do you plan on having children?" Both innocent questions, but they stabbed me in the heart everytime it came out of someone's mouth. I did not want to become an overly sensitive, bitter, infertile harpy, so I would jokingly respond, "Yes, of the four-legged variety. I find they do the same things children do." It would shut them up for a little while, unless they were really nosy and then the more outrageous questions, theories, and bits of advice would come out of their mouths. I always responded, "It's not for a lack of trying." That would usually shut them up.


The Rev.'s barber, who is from Tijuana, suggested that he get me drunk on tequila. "It makes them reelaaaxxxx," he said. Another acquaintance, also from Tijuana, suggested the same thing, "Get 'er drunk." I like tequila, in margaritas, but I don't like it enough to get drunk on it. We just kept on talking about adoption and saving money for it when he returned from his 3 month stay in Mexico.


In February, we decided that we needed to set aside one day or evening of the week for a date night. Friday evenings turned out to be the best, and we usually celebrated the end of the week and the start of the weekend with a bottle of champagne. The Rev. and I looked forward to "Champagne Fridays" and we usually drank Mumm Cuvee, Schramsberg Cremant, or Domaine Chandon Riche. Sometimes we had friends over to share, and sometimes we just ate strawberries, drank the wine, and watched the latest movie from Netflix.

The day after Mother's Day we learned I was pregnant...



"Oh, Lord have mercy, I don't believe this..."


"Are you okay in there? What's wrong?"



"Nothing is wrong. Aaron, I'm pregnant."


"Are you sure? Did you take the test right?"



"How hard is it to pee on a stick?"



"Let me see that thing."




What followed was tears and much hugging. We have wanted a baby for so long, and now all of the prayers that have been prayed by so many people have finally been answered. The Rev. was pleased to tell his barber that his advice worked, but that it was from champagne, and not tequila. So, here a few name suggestions, given that the incubatee was conceived on a Champagne Friday:



Domaine Chandon Riche

Champagne Bubbles

Sparkles Moet Chandon




I think that it is most appropriate to name our child after a wine, given that we do live in Calilfornia. If we stilled lived in Nashville the name choices would not be as playful, but they would do:



Miller

Bud

Coors

PBR (pronounced Peber)



I had my first doctor's appointment yesterday and I am currently carrying a lima bean. I saw the heart flutter and a tiny arm waved as if to say hello. I am nine weeks along and due on January 14th, although my doctor said I would be full term on Christmas Eve. Yes, The Rev. is totally bummed that he missed it, although in keeping with his sense of perfect timing, he will arrive home in time to learn if we are having a boy or a girl.

This is the answer to many prayers.

Finally Getting My Way

It has been a quiet week at my house. The Rev. has been gone for one week today. That means eleven more weeks to go before he comes home. I have been keeping busy, and it just seems like there is alway something to do: pay bills, feed the dog, pick up cat puke.

The one thing I am enjoying is Netflix. The Rev. signed us up for the service a few months ago and never told me the user name and password until he left town. I have already gone in a deleted a few of his choices (war movies) and picked out movies I wanted to see. The first movie I received was Casino Royale, the latest James Bond movie. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I must admit, I think Daniel Craig makes an excellent James Bond. Talk about being a beautiful man, and a very talented actor. Have I mentioned he is a beautiful man? He is a beautiful man. Not as cute as my husband, of course, but he is a beautiful man.

I don't know what The Rev. is going to think when he comes home to find that his choices of esoteric foreign films and bloody war movies are no longer on his list of choices, but I have 3 months to worry about it.