Maternity Monday: Baby Jesus

Can I start by showing you the vitamins I have to take every morning?


2 mega doses of folic acid; 1 calcium + vitamin D; 1 iron; 1 baby aspirin (for a blood clotting condition I have); 2 stool softeners; and 2 heartburn tablets.  BLECH.

I had my 12-week appointment last week.  The nurse practitioner spent about five minutes looking for the baby’s heartbeat and couldn’t find it.  I’ll admit it.  I kind of freaked out.  In my three other pregnancies, they’ve always found the heartbeat right away at my 12-week appointment.

It took about two minutes for the OB to come in.  In that two minutes I had already begun to mourn our dead baby and to visualize our future as a family of four and no more because I have told Kevin if anything happens this pregnancy, I am not I repeat NOT going through this ever again.  Pregnancy is hell, and I’ve already visited hell more times than I’ve visited somewhere nice, like Hawaii.

Anyway, it took the OB another minute to  also not find the heartbeat with the doppler or whatever it’s called..  I made Kevin get the box of Kleenex, as could feel the tears right there..  My OB fired up the ultrasound machine and lo and behold…

IT LIVES!!!  (The baby, that is.)

There was much rejoicing.  At lunch afterwards we decided It needs a code name.  Vincenzo was known as Superfly in utero and Rocco was previously Mbungo, just to let you know where we’re coming from.

Jesus (since Kevin claims the baby died for a couple minutes in the OB’s office then came back to life)
Barfy (can be changed to Barferella if needed)
Hercules (which I guess could be changed to Herculella?)
Pat (SNL’s version of a gender neutral name)
Baby Gaga

What do you think—is there a winner here or do you have something better?

Thoughtless Thursday: car birthday party

We celebrated Rocco’s birthday this weekend.  I usually take birthday parties “off” from photography but I did get some of the details beforehand (and I know my BIL got some of the party, yet to come).

The problem with assembling and decorating the napkins/plasticware two months ahead of time is that you forget you did it and the morning of the party you wake up thinking, “OMG I FORGOT TO EVEN BUY PLASTICWARE AND NAPKINS!!!”  So you run to the store, come home, and set up this:


And then you remember about the ones you already assembled and you spend a half hour looking for this:


I went easy on the food since food is evil when I’m pregnant: hot dogs, fruit, veggies, popcorn, and my sister’s wagon wheel pasta salad.



I put this checkered contact paper just about everywhere I could find (McStreamy and Spawn are rudely blocking the full view of the contact paper on the chair in the first picture):



The contact paper was also on cupboards, some windows, and the coffee table.  In completely unrelated news, we’re planning on sanding down and refinishing our coffee table this weekend.

I made and hung this car curtain in the kitchen doorway.  It looks barely there in the picture but my husband made it clear it was incredibly annoying to walk through.


This seemed like the trendy thing to make this year:


I didn’t get a great cake picture; you can’t really tell that McQueen and Finn McMissile racing around a track.  But they are.


I served glasses of milk with the cake since that’s what the Indy 500 racers drink when they win.  I don’t think anyone in the room had any clue, and I wasn’t exactly positive myself, but do you think that stopped me?


And finally: gift bags.


My mom said she doesn’t understand why someone would spend so much time decorating for a party that only lasts a couple hours.  I can’t really explain; I just know it makes me really happy.  And maybe my kids won’t need quite as much therapy as I do when they grow up.

(Leaving myself wide open on that one…)

The pregnancy 411

Okay, so yes I’m with child now.  To answer your questions: 12 weeks—due Valentine’s Day; yes, it was planned; no, we’re not trying for a girl; yes, I feel like crap; no, the sea bands and B6 and anti-nausea drugs don’t make a lick of difference; yes, you are the first person I wanted to tell about the pregnancy and we will probably name the child after you.

I know not everyone wants to hear about all the details of my pregnancy all the time, like what a hemorrhoid flare-up feels like or how the nurse practitioner told us our 8-week embryo was cute (I totally called her on it) or how many hours I’ve logged with my head in a toilet this time around. 

Not everyone wants to know how everything in the world, from my favorite sweatshirt to boiling water to my darling husband has a smell now and how all of those smells are vile.

Or how I get these giant squawky hiccups throughout the day and hundreds of silent throat convulsions that push stomach acid up into my throat so that I am always looking for a place to spit.

Or how I get depressed when I’m pregnant so that it doesn’t feel like I’m living anymore, but just trying to make time pass, and how things can still make me happy (until about 3PM after which nothing does) but nothing gives me joy anymore. 

And how amazing my friends and family have been at helping me through this, especially when I voluntarily signed up for it and it’s not like I’m dying even though I’m acting like I am.

So because not all of you want to hear all about it (and no one wants to hear about it all the time), from now on I’ll limit myself to Maternity Mondays and you can read or skip at your leisure.  The rest of my blog posts will probably be about unicorns that poop rainbows all over the sky.

If this pregnancy follows suit, I will be nauseous the entire time but fortunately the depression and throwing up usually subside somewhere between week 16 and 20.  I’m hanging on for that.

Coming clean

And now, to explain the real reason for my sporadic posting the past couple months, I will present you with a few visual cues:




I am so so so so sick and I hate food.  All food.

Wait—do American cheese and orange Fanta count as food?