If the old saying "A picture is worth a thousand words" ever had merit, it's now.



My sister and her husband gave us this t-shirt and onesie set and I have to say, it's one of my favorite baby presents by far...although my love for it is not well evidenced by the look of extreme fatigue on my face.



Lately I've really been doing a lot of soul searching. A lot. I've found myself sitting staring blankly into space, only snapping back to reality when a very impatient dog decides that he needs me to pet his head immediately, lest he fall apart into a million pieces, and it's only when I feel the not-so-gentle slap of his enormous paw do I realize I'd checked out.

There are so many thoughts rushing through my brain and trying to get to the front of the line that it almost hurts. It's like a bunch of sweaty, sunburned, badly-dressed tourists at an amusement park in the heat of summer, jostling each other and attempting to squeeze through the crowd. The end result is similar as well - the front of the line means embarking on a 45 second roller coaster ride before it's time to move on, just as I'm only giving my thoughts about a minute to hang out before I send them packing again.

I'm in the midst of trying to figure out who I am and what kind of person I am becoming, along with juggling the notion of what type of parent I'm going to be. I truly thought that after 8 months of not working in an attempt to "discover myself", I'd have more of a clue - but I find myself even more baffled than before I decided a career change was in order. I've always associated myself so strongly with what I was doing for a living, a phenomenon that I think we are all prone to. Our careers become the definitions of who we are...so without a career, I'm unsure as to how I'm defined.

I'm fully aware that once Ferris makes an appearance, life as I know it will change forever and I may never question myself again. I may well find myself in the place I'm meant to be, and the prospect of embarking on a new career may fly out the window...or I could end up needing something beyond being a mother. There's no way to predict it....and it will only drive me nuts to try. The fears and insecurities will likely not disappear - although they may present themselves in new and different ways. The uncertainty will stem from a new set of circumstances, and the learning curve of an unfamiliar place will be challenging. My only hope is that I can rise to the occasion and come out better in the end, tackling it as efficiently as can be done...and accepting that while perfection is not necessity, failure is not a possibility.



Just when I thought I'd gotten used to this whole pregnancy thing, just when I thought I was sailing along in the home stretch with little more to do than get bigger and less mobile...I got thrown for a loop.

At my appt. yesterday, my doctor told me that our last ultrasound showed evidence of low growth - meaning Ferris isn't gaining weight properly and is on the low end of the growth scale. To be precise, Ferris falls in the 37th percentile for growth. This isn't necessarily a cause for concern (as I keep repeating to myself over and over) but to be on the safe side, my doctor wants to do another ultrasound in two weeks to see how things are progressing. There is a possibility that there isn't enough amniotic fluid surrounding the baby, which is of more concern than the growth factor alone.

My initial reaction to this was unease and discomfort at the mere thought that something could be awry - followed by the rational side of me kicking in to bring reminders that until the ultrasound, we don't have definitive answers and therefore no reason to worry. Once my defense mechanism of using humor to handle stressful situations caught up, we were on to comparing Ferris to my mother in her ever-present quest to keep her weight down and her tendency to fast before doctor's visits in an effort to cleanse herself of any wine and food related toxins she may have ingested over the 6 months prior.

A conversation with my sister gave me the reassurance I needed, as always - two of her best friends had this exact scenario during their pregnancies and everything ended up ok - they both delivered perfectly healthy babies, albeit a bit early and a bit on the small side. As long as Ferris is healthy, I'm comfortable with the notion that I'm not facing the prospect of giving birth to a linebacker.

Ferris is still insanely active - yesterday when my doctor was attempting to hear the heartbeat, the squirt delivered a powerful kick that knocked the doppler off of my stomach. At night, we sit and watch my stomach spasm and roll with Ferris' acrobatics. When I place my hand on the right side of my belly, Ferris reacts by curling into a ball and pressing his/her butt up against my hand. I guess it's not the size of the baby in the kick, it's the size of the kick in the baby....or something like that.



We had a baby shower yesterday, and it was just one more milestone that made us look at each other and comment that it is definitely becoming more real. It's humbling to me that we have so many people in our lives that want to celebrate this time with us, and the support and encouragement we're receiving is overwhelming.

Ferris should be weighing in at around three and a half pounds right now - and since the average is an increase of a half a pound each week, I'm looking at giving birth to a very bearable-sized baby (much to my satisfaction). I'm currently experiencing swelling of my fingers, and the discomfort I feel when I try to remove my rings at night leads me to believe I won't be able to wear them much longer.
It's incredible to me that we have less than nine weeks until my due date - the time is flying and it's all I can do not to panic when I look at my to-do list. One by one, the items are getting crossed off, which is just one more reminder that we're getting close to welcoming Ferris into our family.





Today's ultrasound was more statistical than anything, since Ferris is big enough now to be a bit more smushed and thus a bit less visible. We did get this shot of a nose and lips - pouty pillow lips at that.

Ferris is 2 lbs. 14 ozs, and everything is looking good! Hands up by the face, feet up by the face, batting at the umbilical cord the entire time the tech tried to get a good look - typical behavior for a baby that is consistently providing evidence of being a smartass. I couldn't be more proud.



I have written before about some of the things I've learned since becoming pregnant. Since this is a learning process that never quits, I've decided to add to that list.

  • No matter how many times your husband or significant other insists you look adorable, you won't believe them.
  • When you wake up in the middle of the night and think there's a chance your water broke because you're sweating so profusely, you're sweating too much.
  • The first time a complete stranger reaches out to rub your belly, you will likely be too stunned to react.
  • The first thing you will do upon entering an unfamiliar place for the first time is seek out the restroom.
  • People seem to have no qualms when it comes to discussing your most private matters - this is not just reserved for medical staff.
  • Losing the ability to tie your shoes or paint your toenails isn't too disappointing when you can't see your feet anymore.
  • Getting protein from cheeseburgers and calcium from thick chocolate milkshakes counts.
  • Rearranging drawers of burp cloths, onesies, and receiving blankets is a perfectly acceptable way to spend an afternoon.
  • There is a fine line between wanting your husband to understand the wonders of childbirth and wanting him to ever look at you the same way again.
  • Your bladder will wait until the exact moment you are beginning to fall asleep before announcing its need to be relieved. Similarly, your baby will wait until the same moment to deliver a swift and powerful kick to your ribcage.



I've read about it in books and magazines, I've laughed my ass off at blog posts about it, I've seen movies and tv shows that portray it. And now, I have it.

The nesting instinct.

As a whole, I'm a pretty anal person. I like things a certain way (I have a method for loading the dishwasher, a precise way of folding clothes, and don't even get me started on the way books should sit on a bookshelf) and I tend to get a bit over the top at times. Fortunately, my husband knows the signs and thinks it's amusing and endearing when he catches me staring at our kitchen counters, mentally rearranging everything on them...or worse, when I deem it necessary to remove every item of clothing from our closet and dresser and organize them by color and type.

Therefore, given my propensity to fuss over the mundane little things, it's no surprise to either of us that I've suddenly entered nesting mode. What is surprising is the extent of my need to have things in order, and the sheer panic I feel when I realize something's not. I don't even know the reason, but certain little things are making me shrink up in panic and get a little shaky with nerves and dear God, he is a brave brave man for marrying me and he probably deserves a medal or a trophy or at the very least a freaking THANK YOU for putting up with my shit every day.

The dogs must. go. to. the. vet. immediately. They are both due for their annual checkups and shots, and I simply cannot function knowing that there will be a wee little baby in this house unable to protect itself from animals without their vaccines. And yes, I know it's a simple fix and all that's required is a two second phone call to secure an appointment and then hauling their stupid asses down the street to pay too much money to a nice man in a white coat, but still. It is in essence serving as one more reminder that our lives are about to get much more complicated and these "simple fixes" are soon going to be much less simple. And yes, I know we have time, plenty of time, but for some reason I am having the dreaded fear of going into labor early and what if we aren't ready and haven't gotten everything done and why isn't my bag packed yet??????

Ok. Taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the fact that I am at this very moment a raging lunatic incapable of rational thought. Ferris, you have no idea who you're dealing with...good luck with all this.