Monthly Archives: January 2012

For that moment when a gut becomes a bump

In what was supposed to be a celebration of the news of Baby Dub’s gender, The Hubs and I went out for a fancy dinner last night. Of course, it was a consolation prize for a day of disappointment, but that’s in the past now.

Going to a fancy dinner is MY excuse to dress up a little.

But as it turns out, I am officially past the point of being able to wear my pre-pregnancy “fancy pants.”

After attempting several “looks” – including seriously considering wearing a pair of The Hub’s dress pants – I finally decided to make good use of my “Belly Band” and wear my black dress pants… BARELY ZIPPED. We’re talking not even halfway. The fabulous halter top I had purchased pre-preggers (that was nice and flouncy in the middle, perfectly forgiving of the bump… 3 weeks ago) has also been relegated to the “after baby” bin. I nearly went out in barely zipped fancy pants and a baggy teeshirt.


Ladies and gents, the gut is officially a bump, and I have no clothes that fit.

I first started to realize this was going down over the weekend, when I attempted to squeeze into a pair of just-washed jeans that I smartly let air-dry to prevent shrinkage. I successfully pushed all my necessary bits into the jeans, but was forced to wear a particularly “blouse-y” top to cover up the mess that was happening around the waist line. And then I didn’t take off my empire waisted jacket all day.

At ALMOST 18 weeks, is it time to succumb and buy some maternity clothes?

I stubbornly have refused to this point. Instead, my MO has been to let my clothes “grow with me” by not going longer than a week without wearing a particular wardrobe staple (Ah-hem, jeans I so foolishly washed last week). I guarantee that anything I haven’t worn in the last week will NOT button over the bump today.

Most of the time, I would welcome any situation where I absolutely NEED to go shopping. But today, it feels a little like adding insult to injury. I wonder how creative I can get with my current wardrobe staples? I’ve made it almost halfway without purchasing any maternity clothes… can I go another 4 weeks? 6? Once the summer rolls around, and this belly is full-blown, I can probably start to get away with skirts and dresses from last summer. Can I make it that long?

My biggest fear is succumbing to the every-day temptation to just wear those stretchy yoga pants to work. “But they’re SOOOOOOO comfortable,” my inner voice says. And my pride responds, “I’m not ready to tell the world I’ve given up.”

Yesterday’s doctor appointment was a bit of an eye opener for me, as we listened to the baby’s heartbeat. Baby Dub likes to hang out around my pelvic bone area still… so when I force myself into those barely-zippable pre-pregger pants I am not just potentially suffocating myself, I’m smashing Baby Dub! Impinging on his/her space to float around and do ninja flips and stuff.

When it was just me that was suffering, it was fine. But now that I know I’m restricting Baby Dub’s play area, I think I might need to go shopping. Yes, NEED.

The “After Baby” bin is about to fill up. I’ll miss you, fancy pants.

Flavor delay… where flavor = baby gender

I could use more flavor around here.

But alas, Baby Dub’s flavor will not be revealed for a whole ‘nother TWO WEEKS!!!

We went in to our appointment full of anticipation. Excitement. Sleepless night behind us, day of forced productivity under our belts, butterflies in the stomach.

But the flavor find-out is not to be.

Evidently, when they said “We’ll order your ultrasound for the next visit,” they mean they’ll order the order form for the ultrasound for your next visit. So, we ordered our ultrasound today. For two weeks from today.

I feel like Christmas got canceled.

Like I was supposed to get the day off work, and had to come in instead.

Most disappointing is the fact that I told SO MANY people we’d be getting this big news today, and now I feel like a complete ding dong because we have to wait for two weeks. I got my own hopes up, and the hopes of thousands of Baby Dub followers (…or just my immediate family).

I may have to drown my sorrow in some frozen yogurt. (Okay, I already did).

Time to flip this on its head. Christmas didn’t get canceled.

Ladies and gentlemen, Christmas has been extended! Two more weeks to place your bets on Baby Dub’s flavor, two more weeks for Zeb and I to argue over baby names, two more weeks to bask in blissful unawares.

What flavor is Baby Dub?

…where flavor = gender

We find out if Baby Dub is a bouncing baby boy or a darling baby girl come Monday.

The excitement is palpable around the Dub household.

At least, I can feel it.

I am fairly convinced we are having a girl. This is likely because I would prefer to have a boy first. In all my dreams about Dub, we have a girl on our hands (including one particularly terrifying dream in which baby came out talking… Which might not be all that big of a surprise…).

After I found out we were having a baby, my first real panic attack centered around the fact that I don’t know how to French braid hair.

So you can understand my trepidation at the thought of a little bundle of girly joy, as I simply won’t know what to do with it. Friends of mine or acquaintances who have had little baby girls post these adorable pics of their little ones in bows and huge headbands (why can’t I pull those off?) and I just drink in the cuteness, but secretly I worry…

I won’t know how to make mine that cute.

Both the hubs and I come from families where the oldest is a girl. This is not a complaint, but I would love for our little girl, when she comes along, to have a big brother to look out for her.

What’s fun about all this is that when it comes to baby names, life would be very easy if we were having a girl… We are in complete agreement on the full name for our little girl, and we even have the same second choice for Baby Girl Dub 2 should she come along. Boy names, however, are a complete challenge. The Hubs is making up words to name our son, while I endlessly scour sites like looking for something that catches my eye and doesn’t immediately lose The Hubs upon suggestion.

No matter what flavor Baby Dub turns out to be, I can’t wait to meet him/her. No matter what the flavor, I am sure I will be ecstatic. If it is a boy, then my dream of Big Brother Dub will come true. If it is a girl, then I will have the supreme satisfaction of having my maternal intuition be spot-on.

I will also have the challenge of dedicating the next 5 months to perfecting my French braid skills.

The Quickening, Part 2

I told the Hubs about “The Quickening” last night and his response was, “It sounds like an M. Night Shyamalan movie.”


The Quickening… spooky things happening in there

One of my recent fascinations is this thing called “The Quickening.”

It makes me shiver.

“The Quickening.”

It makes me think of “The Changling” – or “The Rapture” – or something else kind of spooky and otherworldly.

It is the term that is used to describe my recognition of Baby Dub’s first movements.

And evidently, it is easily mistaken for gas.

All my baby apps are telling me to be on the lookout for “The Quickening.” So I’m on the alert. The other night I was in bed and felt a little twingey somethin’ – I immediately froze, my heart rate shot up, I didn’t want to move or breath… I just wanted to confirm that this was, indeed, “The Quickening.” Come on, Baby Dub. Wiggle again.

Some people describe it as “bubbles”, “butterflies”, or like “being tickled from the inside.” Bubbles and butterflies, I’m cool with. Being tickled from the inside? Creeps me out. Fingers crossed for bubbles and butterflies…

I can neither confirm nor deny that I’ve experienced “The Quickening” yet. My baby apps imply that I’ll be experiencing it between 16-20 weeks, and I’m sure that this baby is going to be an active little sucker, so maybe I should be grateful for an extra week of “peace” before we start really moving and shaking.

Or maybe I’m just such a gassy preggers that I can’t tell the difference between too big of a lunch and Baby Dub’s first movements.

Baby Dub goes Airborn

In the “honeymoon of pregnancy” that is the second trimester, it was determined that I needed to go on a trip to Sacramento for work. I don’t like flying. Not even a little bit. And I usually ease my quease by having a little cocktail to take the edge off the nerves. Not a possibility with Baby Dub’s first flight.

Anybody here ever flown out of Pasco? We are talking about a super tiny airport here, with super tiny planes. Any turbulence on one of these puddle jumpers feels like cause for real panic.

We had a recipe for disaster.

Thankfully we had a quick and painless flight, though I don’t think baby likes to fly (at least, this big baby doesn’t). My stomach was in knots the entire flight and I can’t be sure if it was Baby rebelling, extreme hunger, or just a little preggers gas. Either way, I was glad to get back on the ground.

Perhaps our “babymoon” will have to be within driving distance. Though Hawaii sounds pretty awesome right now. Flying is much more enjoyable when tropical beaches await.

Baby Dub goes mobile

Guess what? I am writing this blog post from my iPhone, sitting in a restaurant. That’s right folks. Baby Dub has gone mobile. And airborn. That’s for a different post though.

Yes, I love technology… I can now ramble about baby thoughts and share them with the masses (well, mainly just with close family and friends) from anywhere. You’re welcome, masses (or just my mom).

On a more baby-ish related topic- The way technology has advanced in the time I have been alive blows my freaking mind. I wonder what wonders Baby Dub will see… Or INVENT!! Maybe our baby will be an inventor. Only time will tell.

Getting ready for baby

This week, we got started on Baby Dub’s room. The guest room next to ours, at a glance, is the cleanest room in the house. So when we decided to gut the room in preparation for our baby’s arrival, we were surprised.

There was an untold treasure trove in the closet of the guest room next to ours.

Old, wonderful books of mine. College text books. Random journals. Normal journals. Videos on VHS. Recordings from Performing Arts Camp. Some fashionable clothing of my sister’s.

So the guest room vomited into the hallway. My borderline “hoarder” tendencies are in full effect. I can’t bear the thought of throwing these treasures away, but I have nowhere to put them, either.

I need to just blindly toss things in the Goodwill box and have Zeb take it there, so I don’t know what I’m giving away.

That’s neither here nor there. Though our hallway is now a complete and utter mess, Baby Dub’s room is now a blank slate for creative baby decor.

So the Hubs and I went to Home Depot to select the perfect, gender neutral baby room paint color. We arrived on a Martha Stewart sage-y color, after a lot of deliberation.

With each stroke of the brush, and every pass of the paint roller, it felt more and more real… a baby is going to live in this room. This very, very green room.

This is where Pinterest is total and utter poison for the expecting mom. There are so many adorable baby room ideas that I don’t know how I’m going to narrow it down to just one. The color schemes, the furniture, the wall decor, the general craftiness. My head spins with the possibilities.

So for now, I’m happy with step one. Green walls.

Much like this pregnancy, I’ve gotta take things with the baby room one step at a time.


The key to a fabulous pregnancy

It’s time to nix the word “compromise” and “sacrifice” from the pregnant lady’s vocab.

The key to a fabulous pregnancy is stylish substitution!

SUBSTITUTION, not compromise. Not sacrifice. We trade, not necessarily up or down.

I’m substituting high heads for wedges and kitten heels and cowboy boots. Guess what? Still fabulous.

I’m substituting fitted tops for empire waists.

I’m substituting two hours of productivity in the morning on weekends for sleeping in and store-bought cinnamon rolls.

Sometimes I substitute baking for exercise.

I substitute dessert for booze. (Really not a bad trade, ladies.)

On some days I substitute a belly band for fully buttoned-up pants.

This is living.



Why I am glad I’m not having twins

When I was a little girl, I had dreams of one day being called “Mom” by adorable twin sisters named Denim and Lace.

Those days have long since passed. When we went in for our first ultrasound and saw just ONE little bean on the screen, I can’t tell you the relief I felt.

Just a few weeks previous, before we even knew we were having a baby, I was invited to my aunt and uncle’s house for a family lunch and got to spend some time with my Mom’s side of the family. The topic of babies came up, specifically related to somebody we know having twins recently.

Under my breath, I mutter, “Ugh, twins. My worst nightmare. I’m so glad twins don’t run in our family.”

Grandma felt the need to chime in with words of doom.

“What are you talking about? There are a lot of twins on the Prewitt side.”


My mom’s family proceeds to regale me of tales of twins upon twins, twins both giving birth to twins, my brain spinning at the mathematics of it all.

So secretly, when I found out I was having a baby, I was repeating the mantra for several weeks before our ultrasound “There’s only one in there, there’s only one in there…”

Here’s the deal. Twins seem awesome. If I were pregnant with twins, I would embrace it, “ONE AND DONE!” Unless they were twin girls. We’ve covered that already. Two girls = attempt for a third Baby Dub.

But I want to be able to focus my maternal energies on as few beings as possible. Add another baby to the mix and I start to think of scenarios in which one twin eats the other in utero, or the identical twins I know who married other identical twins and how weird I thought that was. I just want to be able to focus my attention on one thing at a time, right now specifically on the question “Boy or girl?”

Which we find out in less than 2 weeks, by the way!

So while I am happy and delighted and intrigued by others I know who have twins (especially boy-girl perfect sets, I would have been jazzed if we were having those!), I am glad I’m not having twins.

This round.

They do run in the family.