"I just offered Sarah some yummy dessert. She said, 'No, I just want some water.' Then I saw her grab the milk.
"'Water?' I asked.
"'Well,' she replied sheepishly, 'I saw the milk, and Ovaltine sounded so good all of a sudden.'
"You're making Sarah act awfully funny."
Friday, September 28
10 Weeks and Counting
Today we are at 10 weeks, which is a very important milestone in the pregnancy. The peanut inside has graduated from embryo to fetus, which means that all the organs are present and accounted for. This also means that the fingerprints have formed, the eye color has developed (even though the pigmentation is incomplete and doesn't form until after birth), and that the reproductive organs are present but indiscernible. Unbelievable! It also means that this week or next, the placenta begins to function.
I was going to include a photo of fetal development, but at this point, it looks so... alien, that I think I'll just let it be. If you're interested, though, go to http://www.pregnancy.org and click on Fetal Development First Trimester.
I was going to include a photo of fetal development, but at this point, it looks so... alien, that I think I'll just let it be. If you're interested, though, go to http://www.pregnancy.org and click on Fetal Development First Trimester.
Wednesday, September 26
Spreading the News Far and Wide
Another debate rages in our household - how many people to tell about the pregnancy, in which order, and how to insure that people's feelings don't get hurt. And then there's one more layer: informing people in our professional lives.
So far I haven't vomited in class (a most embarrassing situation that did happen to me in 2nd grade, in the front of the class as I rushed to the bathroom). And I'm not wearing maternity clothes per se. But my stomach is growing, and soon enough it will be obvious. Being under 5 foot 2 pretty much insures that this baby has nowhere to go but out.
But is it my professor's business to know that I'm pregnant? Is it my responsibility to tell? Should Dave share the news with his professor, who is also pregnant? We want to tell everyone we meet, including the check-out lady at the grocery store. But how private should this remain? How many people really care? It's hard to gage, and so we let it slip, little by little.
So who knows thus far? The Dean of Student Life at the Law School. The flight attendant on the way back from Newfoundland who saw me swallowing a Prenatal Vitamin and congratulated Dave while I slept. Our roomie, Adrienne, who couldn't be kept in the dark with all the baby literature laying around the house. Our new friends Jason and Keira, also pregnant. Relatives. Close friends. You, if you're reading this. Our rabbi, who happened to be at the ob/gyn on the same day and upon seeing us said, "Really, it's not what you think," to which we replied, "Really, it IS what you think."
We've decided on the slow moving information approach... leaking it every time we speak to people on the phone, inserting it in those last few thank you notes we've written, explaining to our dinner companions who are curious as to why I brought a bottle of wine for dinner and then refused to drink it.
The pregnancy is a joy, it's a blessing, it's all of these things, and we want to spread the news far and wide. But we also want to maintain the last vestiges of our privacy before it becomes completely obvious, before our lives change forever with a real live little person who will deserve all the attention that's coming her/his way. And so for now, we're trying to keep it mum and smile at each other, content in our secret.
So far I haven't vomited in class (a most embarrassing situation that did happen to me in 2nd grade, in the front of the class as I rushed to the bathroom). And I'm not wearing maternity clothes per se. But my stomach is growing, and soon enough it will be obvious. Being under 5 foot 2 pretty much insures that this baby has nowhere to go but out.
But is it my professor's business to know that I'm pregnant? Is it my responsibility to tell? Should Dave share the news with his professor, who is also pregnant? We want to tell everyone we meet, including the check-out lady at the grocery store. But how private should this remain? How many people really care? It's hard to gage, and so we let it slip, little by little.
So who knows thus far? The Dean of Student Life at the Law School. The flight attendant on the way back from Newfoundland who saw me swallowing a Prenatal Vitamin and congratulated Dave while I slept. Our roomie, Adrienne, who couldn't be kept in the dark with all the baby literature laying around the house. Our new friends Jason and Keira, also pregnant. Relatives. Close friends. You, if you're reading this. Our rabbi, who happened to be at the ob/gyn on the same day and upon seeing us said, "Really, it's not what you think," to which we replied, "Really, it IS what you think."
We've decided on the slow moving information approach... leaking it every time we speak to people on the phone, inserting it in those last few thank you notes we've written, explaining to our dinner companions who are curious as to why I brought a bottle of wine for dinner and then refused to drink it.
The pregnancy is a joy, it's a blessing, it's all of these things, and we want to spread the news far and wide. But we also want to maintain the last vestiges of our privacy before it becomes completely obvious, before our lives change forever with a real live little person who will deserve all the attention that's coming her/his way. And so for now, we're trying to keep it mum and smile at each other, content in our secret.
Tuesday, September 25
The gender debate - to find out or not
Dave and I haven't yet decided whether to find out the baby's gender when we visit the doctor (Dr. Brown is his name -another Dr. Brown in our life!). We have a little bit of time to decide, but here are our thoughts/quandries:
1. Do we want the doctor to know more than we know? Absolutely not. If the doc knows, we should know.
2. We don't want the knowledge of the gender to create a gender-influenced pregnancy- as in I just felt the baby kick me in the bladder... but that's what boys do.
3. It will be easier to pick a name because we can narrow the list by 50%.
4. We don't want to create a personality and socially-construct a person before they have their own chance to be themselves. And we feel like knowing the gender might allow for that.
5. We're interested.
6. We don't really care what the gender is.
7. We can plan for a bris/ baby-naming ceremony in advance.
8. There's no surprise at the end. Sarah loves surprises.
So that's where we're at... and who knows how many more pros/cons we'll come up with in the meantime.
1. Do we want the doctor to know more than we know? Absolutely not. If the doc knows, we should know.
2. We don't want the knowledge of the gender to create a gender-influenced pregnancy- as in I just felt the baby kick me in the bladder... but that's what boys do.
3. It will be easier to pick a name because we can narrow the list by 50%.
4. We don't want to create a personality and socially-construct a person before they have their own chance to be themselves. And we feel like knowing the gender might allow for that.
5. We're interested.
6. We don't really care what the gender is.
7. We can plan for a bris/ baby-naming ceremony in advance.
8. There's no surprise at the end. Sarah loves surprises.
So that's where we're at... and who knows how many more pros/cons we'll come up with in the meantime.
Wednesday, September 19
Hiding McDonald's Chocolate Milkshakes from Dave
If there is one thing that Dave is good at, it is insuring we eat healthy meals all the time. There's the occasional dinner out where no vegetables graze our plates, but this is a rare instance, especially with our vegetable garden and CSA-farm membership. Right now we have tomatoes and squash galore... and the last things I want to eat are tomatoes or squash. I want chocolate milkshakes.
Today I drove out to Target for a prescription pick-up, and suddenly I was starving. The past two weeks of school have been very busy for me, and I've been eating and running, or not eating regularly and then finding myself famished at 4:30pm, my last meal at 7:30am. And when the hunger hits, the blood sugar level drops dramatically. So I was walking to the car with my prescription and suddenly my body was crying out for something to eat. So I drove the car through the McDonald's drive-thru, ordered a small chocolate milkshake, and proceeded to suck it down as fast as I could before getting home.
It was around 5:00pm, and rush hour traffic should have saved me from having to come clean about ordering a chocolate milkshake, at McDonald's, no less, but unfortunately I was driving the wrong-way in the traffic, and I got home too fast. Plus, I was about to give myself a monstrous ice cream headache to boot. So I sulked up the stairs and hoped he wouldn't see the milkshake cup I placed on the kitchen counter.
But he did, and being Dave, he only said, "A milkshake, huh?" And thus I felt guilty that I had consumed a milkshake right before dinner. I told myself I shouldn't drink these things. But that's what I wanted. And it had to be better than a Big Mac and fries.
All of this is in my head, of course. Dave isn't passing judgment on the McDonald's milkshake; he's sad that he wasn't around to share one with me. It's my own guilt recycled around - you're feeding this baby WHAT? You don't want your children to eat junk food , and yet you're ordering it through the drive-thru and forcing the fetus to consume this milkshake? Yes, that's really where the guilt comes from - all the perfect mommy books and perfect parenting guides that tell me drinking one McDonald's milkshake will destroy this child growing inside. So dealing with my food guilt is really dealing with the perfect parent brigades - and it's about ignoring those people for a little pleasure, taken in small doses. Because I'm pregnant, damnit. And I should be able to have a milkshake.
Today I drove out to Target for a prescription pick-up, and suddenly I was starving. The past two weeks of school have been very busy for me, and I've been eating and running, or not eating regularly and then finding myself famished at 4:30pm, my last meal at 7:30am. And when the hunger hits, the blood sugar level drops dramatically. So I was walking to the car with my prescription and suddenly my body was crying out for something to eat. So I drove the car through the McDonald's drive-thru, ordered a small chocolate milkshake, and proceeded to suck it down as fast as I could before getting home.
It was around 5:00pm, and rush hour traffic should have saved me from having to come clean about ordering a chocolate milkshake, at McDonald's, no less, but unfortunately I was driving the wrong-way in the traffic, and I got home too fast. Plus, I was about to give myself a monstrous ice cream headache to boot. So I sulked up the stairs and hoped he wouldn't see the milkshake cup I placed on the kitchen counter.
But he did, and being Dave, he only said, "A milkshake, huh?" And thus I felt guilty that I had consumed a milkshake right before dinner. I told myself I shouldn't drink these things. But that's what I wanted. And it had to be better than a Big Mac and fries.
All of this is in my head, of course. Dave isn't passing judgment on the McDonald's milkshake; he's sad that he wasn't around to share one with me. It's my own guilt recycled around - you're feeding this baby WHAT? You don't want your children to eat junk food , and yet you're ordering it through the drive-thru and forcing the fetus to consume this milkshake? Yes, that's really where the guilt comes from - all the perfect mommy books and perfect parenting guides that tell me drinking one McDonald's milkshake will destroy this child growing inside. So dealing with my food guilt is really dealing with the perfect parent brigades - and it's about ignoring those people for a little pleasure, taken in small doses. Because I'm pregnant, damnit. And I should be able to have a milkshake.
Sunday, September 9
Understanding our blog name
One well-known, beaten-into-the-ground aspect of pregnancy is food aversions and cravings, of which I have already had my fair share. Two weeks ago, after walking home from school in the heat and humidity, I collapsed on the living room floor and proclaimed myself too hot to eat. Less than five minutes later, I proclaimed myself starving. Dave threw out a number of suggestions... grilled cheese sandwich, salad, pasta, etc, to which I firmly shook my head no. I finally agreed to some heat-n-serve split pea soup, of which I am a big fan generally. Dave made himself a turkey sandwich and we sat down to eat. Four bites into the soup, I announced, "This soup tastes stupid," and refused to eat anymore. "I want chocolate for lunch," I said, to which Dave explained that there was no chocolate for lunch, but I could have an apple, a nectarine, a banana, etc. I settled on some bunny-shaped crackers and grapes.
"And the last thing I want for dinner," I maintained, "are VEGETABLES."
"And the last thing I want for dinner," I maintained, "are VEGETABLES."
Welcome to "This Soup Tastes Stupid"
Dave and Sarah started a pregnancy journal to record all the trials and tribulations of being pregnant. But we realized early on that part of the fun of the journal was lost when we tried to retell the information located therein to our family and friends. And thus, our blog, This Soup Tastes Stupid, was born (ha ha... pregnancy jokes, so funny) for those of you who want to keep up-to-date.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
