65 pounds vs. 2 pounds - the weight debate

So it's not a "real" blog unless you have some kind of celebrity item, right? Time magazine reported this week that supermodel/horror-movie actress Milla Jovovich, at left, gained 65 pounds in the first 4 months of her pregnancy. 65 pounds! If I was to follow her lead... I'd need to eat about 10,000 calories a meal. Maybe I should start heading for the fried chicken stand?

Weight and pregnancy is a tough issue. Each generation receives different information about how much weight is best. Grandma Joan wore pre-maternity clothing out of the hospital with Neil (she barely gained anything); Mom gained 40 pounds with me. My endocrinologist told me she gained no weight in the first trimester, then 50 pounds in the next two. Every body is different, and prenatal advice changes over time. Current standards: moderation, whatever that means.

We received a chart from the ob/gyn that showed how much weight is ideal to gain over the course of the pregnancy, and again, it's an ideal. And we don't own a scale at our house, so my knowledge of how much weight I'm gaining relies on monthly doctor visits and whether I'm rounding out my jeans because my stomach/intestines/internal organs have been shoved up to make room for the baby or I'm actually gaining any weight. At our last check-up, I'd gained two pounds in 3 months, which doesn't mean much. However, for the baby's development and my own energy-level, I do need to start gaining some weight. Last night I ate a HUGE bowl of Breyer's Vanilla Ice Cream, and I felt (1) relief that I'm not constantly ill anymore, and (2) smug that Ice Cream is full of calcium and fat.

Supermodels probably need to gain 65 pounds for the health of the fetus. I probably don't. But I'd like to pack on a little weight soon... if for no other reason, then I'll begin to show a little more. Right now I just feel like an imposter.

You Smell Like Belly Button Lint

Friday, Dave smelled weird. He kept coming over to hug me or kiss me or wash the dishes with me, and I kept moving out of the way. Finally, hours into the weird smell, I started sniffing him to figure out where the smell was coming from... not his breath, not his feet, not his armpits. But his neck. Yech.

We were lying on the living room floor together, discussing dinner (because although we do own furniture, we don't sit on it), and I told him he smelled horrible. Whenever he came too close, I felt like vomiting.

"What do I smell like?" he asked.

I thought about it for 1 second.

"Belly button lint."

And then we laughed and laughed and Dave stood up, walked straight to the bathroom, and took a shower. The smell disappeared.

We don't know what the smell actually was or where it came from, but something was on his neck that Pregnant Sarah really disliked. The more I think about it, my best guess is that it was sweat stuck to three-day old beard growth, which I never seemed to mind before. After all, Dave and I lived in a car/tent for 2 1/2 months one summer, traveling around in 98 degree weather to spectacular locations like Scottsbluff, Nebraska (that campsite was next to a zoo - have you ever woken up to the sound of an elephant? and the smell of the animals was top notch). So we're used to each other in our stinkiest form...

But now things are a little different, and my nose is fastidious. I walk through the produce section of the grocery store with my shirt fashionably pulled up over my nose, and I have to run through the seafood section. My sense of smell is not just acute, it's faulty. One morning early on in the pregnancy, Dave was eating Grapenuts cereal for breakfast, and I walked into the dining room and announced, "I smell Cheeze-Its." We haven't had a box of Cheeze-Its in this house... ever?

I apologized to Dave for thinking he smelled like Belly Button Lint. He doesn't smell like Belly Button Lint, I promise. And he showers every day.

My First Puke

My Family Law clinic partner, Joleen, and I travel around Syracuse fighting crime. Not really, but we do spend an awful lot of time together talking about people's problems and how to fix them. So yesterday, we were driving around Northern Syracuse near the airport, completely lost and late for a meeting at a client's house. We pulled into a strip mall to reread our directions and call the client for information. And I don't know if it was the heat (mid-70s and humid) or my long-sleeved shirt or the fact that I had just drank a blueberrry smoothie and it was reacting with some antibiotics I am currently choking down, but I had to puke.

So I said to Joleen, "This is really gross, but I have to go inside that bakery and throw-up now," and I jumped out of her car, raced in, and finally, for the first time in 13 weeks, threw up. Yech. I hate throwing up, and so far I've been able to prevent throwing up in a kind of mind-over-matter fight with myself - one morning I really had to, but the thought of throwing up the blueberry pancakes that I had begged Dave to make went against my constitution, so I just decided, as I sat there next to the toilet, Purna beside me on the bathroom floor watching intently, that I didn't want to throw up. So I didn't. And that's how it's gone for the past 13 weeks. Until yesterday.

I was a little embarrassed about throwing up in the bakery restroom, and that Joleen knew what I was doing, and the counter people could hear my retching. And I felt like I should probably buy something now after misusing their facilities. So I opened the door, prepared to order a Pepsi to settle my stomach, and there was Joleen at the counter, ordering an egg sandwich, as though pregnant women jumping from her car and puking in bakery bathrooms was a perfectly normal occurrence. So we sat inside for a couple minutes, I felt better, and we got back on the road. And when we arrived at the client's home, I felt so thankful that I had gotten all the grossness out of me, because really, the last thing I wanted to do was puke in this client's house.

Sarah and the Pillow

And here we have a picture of me + 3 months, according to the Pillow (see October 7th entry Confronting the Pillow, for more info - click on title to the left). Holy shmoley!

Where's Dave?

Here's Dave, looking at the Baby Name Book. I'm posting this photo because some lady in the peanut gallery (comments section), going by the moniker "Not Really That Anonymous," (Hi Mom!) demanded a photo of Dave be posted. So here he is. Welcome to the Blog, Dave!

Being Outed in Class

This morning I walked into class, and my classmate Jona said in a sing-song voice, "Look who's getting bigger!" Trouble was, approximately half of the people in the room didn't know I was pregnant, and Jona received the nastiest looks from my colleagues. There was some uncomfortable laughter and silence, and then Karista asked, "Sarah, are you pregnant?"

Once everyone realized what was going on, we laughed and laughed at the supposed rudeness of Jona's comment. And it was nice to be outed, because I wasn't really sure how to go about telling people before it becomes really obvious. Only trouble is that neither of my professors were present, so I still have to tell them, seeing as how they will remain my profs next semester as well.

Welcoming the Second Trimester

I have welcomed the Second Trimester a couple of different ways.

1. I look very cute in maternity clothing. This bodes well for the next six months.

2. I am less tired - hooray! But I still want 9 hours of sleep every night.

3. Today I walked through the Marshall's baby aisle and looked at shoes and clothes and baby furniture. It was scary - everything is either baby pink or baby blue. Apparently we will scare little children by dressing them in real colors. But then I got stuck looking at baby books, and my heart about melted.

4. I gained two whole pounds during the first 12 weeks. It's time to start eating - which I welcome, because I am finally feeling hungry. I celebrated my returning appetite with my favorite treat: french fries and chocolate milkshakes.

5. Our cat Purna, who many of you know is not fond of sitting on human laps, has taken to mine recently like she's making up for lost time. My theory is that suddenly she knows how good she's got it, and how much her life will be different in 6 months. Plus she'll have a plethora of baby toys to keep her busy. But I think she might be too advanced for the newborn toys - so if/when we have a baby shower, please, someone remember poor Purna and buy her an Erector set or some blocks.

6. I cried on Sunday because Dave was sitting too far away in the house. This is a good sign, right? So I've been told, but thinking about it now, I can only shake my head in wonderment.