At War With the Mystics

According to my sources, Baby-size has gone from lima bean to grape to kumquat to avocado, and is currently the size of a bell pepper.

From where I'm standing, I'd say its a blue-ribbon festival-winning size bell pepper.

The "fetal survey" ultrasound is Nov 2, where Baby will get to go from "he/she/it" to just "he" or "she." The feeling remains that it is a boy. I asked my two year old friend what she thinks it is, and she answered boy with a huge smile and such conviction that I feel pretty convinced. But like I said, I'm sure the baby will continue to be full of surprises...

I can not express how excited I am for this. I found myself incredibly envious of my friend's 6 week ultrasound where the barely-there fetus looked like a blurry teddy graham. She had several IVF miscarriages before this pregnancy and yet I, who have had a relatively pain-free, problem-free, completely healthy pregnancy, was jealous over her black and white images. My midwives won't refer me to the ultrasound office unless there is a medical need, outside of this upcoming standard 20-week fetal survey. But as I've been counting down the days to Nov. 2 (15), I've become acutely aware that not only do I wish I already have had an ultrasound, but that I would prefer a 38-week ultrasound too. I'm still trying to figure out why Steve's sketches just aren't cutting it, but until then, the ultrasounds may be a deal breaker in the future.

Developments

As Steve once very charmingly remarked (he's also very charming in person), I dislike the smell of certain chocolate bars in my distinctive condition, among other things. Recently, my supersmell sense underwent an outdoor survival challenge when Steve and I went on the ward camp-out. Gparents Hall were kind enough to let us use their camping gear, but, unfortunately, the tent had been through kinder-smelling days. Steve, me and a Glade air freshener made it through the night.

Giant slug

Then I began to look chubby. I became acutely aware of this when Steve and I decided a couple of weeks ago to hike around Sunrise, what I've been told is the highest point one can go by car to Mt. Rainier. My favorite T-shirt felt extremely tight, but I didn't really notice this until I got in the car for the trip. By the time we arrived, I had already unbuttoned the top of my jeans for comfort, and because that's how all of Steve's gangster friends wear their jeans.

I'm sucking it in.

We went on a "moderate" level hike, destined to take us to a beautiful place called Frozen Lake.

A lake we on the way up to Sunrise, which prompted us by it's beauty to hike to Frozen Lake.

The hike was quite arduous for us, and by us I mean the baby and I, not Steve, or the elderly hikers that were lapping me so casually they had enough breath to ask, "Hi, how are you?" when I could only humph in response. By the time we reached the end of our hike, having grumpily walked through a place that I can only describe with the smell of sulfur, I had exerted myself to the point of hyper-sensitive personal space so aptly described by Steve in a previous post.

Apparently Mordor is on the way to Frozen Lake.

Steve strode a safe distance ahead of me, calling out platitudes like "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." If I was any stronger I would have killed him. Unfortunately, the Frozen Lake had already thawed and evaporated and rained on Forks by the time I arrived.

There was no lake. And the shirt was still really tight.

We ate our pears and snacks at the "lake" and then took Wonderland trail to get back to our car at Sunrise. Wonderland trail turned out to be an unused utility road. However, Steve being as clever as he is charming and full of platitudes, came up with the "lets rap like that episode of House where we each make stuff up and the other has to rhyme." Our posse of inner city squirrels that had been accompanying us started beat boxing, and my winning lyrics went something about me liking the name Leo and my baby's daddy being unable to accept that in actuality Leonardo DiCaprio does not own the name, nor does that mean our baby will be a late bloomer. Maybe later I'll sit down and write the full version.

But right now I'm pretty busy with the next development: excessive digestive gurgles. Potentially, this could be the baby moving, but I wasn't sure. My midwives and all the books say that for a first-time mom it usually takes a bit longer, usually 18- 20 weeks gestation, for the movements to be felt and recognized. Moms with multiple children tend to recognize the feeling for what it is earlier, beginning at about 16 weeks along. So when at 15 weeks these gurgles became more and more interesting, I was too scared to hope that these were actually the baby, that this was it, the moment second only to actually holding the newborn itself; I was actually feeling the little person inside of me. But at 16 weeks and one day, I was in mutual (I'm the Laurel Advisor for my ward (awesome)) and I was listening to a closing talk at the end the activity. I had a hymn book on my lap, propped up against my belly with my arms folded across it, and suddenly I felt the book on both sides of my skin. I know that sounds odd. There was little push from the inside that met resistance, and I felt the book push back on the outside of my belly.

I think I froze, more out of surprise than anything, and then looked around, expecting everyone else to have noticed and been effected by the cosmic and eternal effect of that little bump. I had expected, when I sit down to think about it and then type my thoughts, that the baby would give me some warning, so I would be prepared for it and that Steve would be there and also be forever changed. Who knows where that idea came from, but I'm sure it won't be the last time the baby surprises me without warning.

Speaking of surprises, other developments have been afoot and now we know that our little kiddo will be blessed with cousin friends. Yay!