Valerie - 0; Madame Zaritska -1

Wednesday, we went to the doctor for the anatomy scan - a sonogram that takes multiple measurements and checks the growth of all the organs.  We were told that everything is right on schedule, little Nugget is growing healthy and everything is is perfectly normal.  Nugget was asleep when we got there, so we had to poke around for a bit before we could get the measurements.  Then it came time to find out if we were having a mini-Chad or a mini-Val.

Nugget's legs were firmly closed.  "In my experience, it's usually the girls that are modest," said the doctor.

"But can you see anything?"  We both wanted to know for sure.

"See those little lines?"  To be honest, we couldn't.  It all just looked like a bunch of different, indistinguishable white and black.  "Well, that's what it looks like to me."  What does she mean that's what it looks like to her?  She's the expert.  Is it a boy or girl?  Is there outdoor plumbing or not? We asked her if she was sure.  "Yep.  That's it."  This whole time I've been thinking we were going to have a little boy.  Looks like my maternal instinct is not on track yet.

We were both in a little bit of shock.  In fact, Chad's response was, "Oh, crap.  Now I have to buy a shotgun."  I just couldn't speak.  They finished with the few print outs of the pictures and sent us into the waiting room again to wait for our regular check up.  We both just sat there with goofy grins.  I couldn't stop giggling.  "I thought for sure it was a boy!"

Looks like Madame Zaritska is one up on me.  We'll see about the other predictions she made.  We'll find out in 20 more weeks, give or take.

Hmmmm....

I still think it's a boy, but I'm not sure why, just because of the dream I had.  All I did was answer questions online about my favorite things, the weather today, the last animal I saw, and other random things.  Nothing that had to do with due date or birthdays or conception estimates.  Thought I would post this just as a fun thing to do to compare to what happens in the future. 

Madame Zaritska, using her mystical powers, has the following prediction:
The day you deliver, outside will be cold. Your baby will arrive in the evening. After a labor lasting approximately 20 hours, your child, a girl, will be born. Your baby will weigh about 5 pounds, 6 ounces, and will be 17-1/2 inches long. This child will have dark green eyes and a little patch of blonde hair.

The Waiting Game

It seems as though the first few months, if not the first 2 full trimesters, are all about waiting.  Waiting to see the first sonogram, waiting to hear the heart beat, waiting to feel the first movement.  Always waiting for that next appointment to see that truly incredible miracle again. 

Chad and I are currently waiting for our next appointment, which will be the day before Thanksgiving, to see our little Nugget again.  This is the day we (hopefully) find out which half of the name book we should concentrate on.  Then we can start the real registering process that Sunday, if it’s not a complete zoo after Black Friday.  (I plan on going early and only staying out a couple of hours, if Chad’s lucky.)

The Holiday festivities will start to close out the slow “waiting period” of the pregnancy and usher in the “hectic, hurry and get it done before the baby gets here” time period: baby showers, birthing classes, “nesting,” etc.  It doesn’t sound like much of a list, but then throw in a diminishing energy level, increased number of appointments, working all week, Prenatal Yoga (and other random workouts), Tootsie Roll and her needs, as well as anything extra life wants to throw in.  We’ve got a LOT to do in 3 little months, if the baby gives us the full amount of time.

I’m both excited and apprehensive to hit that last trimester.  I’m enjoying the relaxing “wait” time I have from day to day as well as all the little changes and discoveries.  But at the same time, I want it to get here so I can start all the fun stuff and see my to-do list get smaller.

For now, we’re focusing on each next milestone and we look forward to sharing them with our family and friends as they occur.

Bothersome Stupidity

I guess part of the pregnancy/parenthood journey is self-discovery.  I learn more about myself and our little miracle each day.  As with all things studied, we find some aspects are good and some are not-so-good; some that are permanent and some temporary.  I can only hope that the not-so-good aspects of my pregnancy are the temporary kind.  Make no mistake, I have no illusions that once Nugget is born, everything will go back to normal.  I have seen too much to know that won’t be the way.

That being said, I’ve noticed one of my symptoms of pregnancy is a lower tolerance level for B.S. (Bothersome Stupidity).  Some might even venture to call me a little bitchy sometimes, but I think they’re just being irrational.  How could I be bitchy?

Before I give an example of my lower BS tolerance, let me first give a quick definition/explanation… Halloween Hoedown is one of two annual gatherings of family and friends in Royston, GA, generally consisting of camping, pumpkin carving, cake walks, costume contests, music and dancing, a lot of food, and a little drinking around a massive bonfire.  Halloween Hoedown is clearly meant to entertain families and children.  Whereas the “Adults Only” Hoedown in the Spring is just that – Adults Only, and geared more toward a laid back atmosphere.  That's it in a nutshell.

Back to my example and Halloween Hoedown this past weekend.  This year for Halloween the weather was beautiful!  Sunny, but not too hot during the day, and just cool enough at night to sit by the fire without freezing when you step away.  The family is always enjoyable as are most of the friends – there’s always “that one” in every crowd.  There should have been very little to complain about.  This year there seemed to be a few more vocal participants than in the past.  More complaints that the music was what the “kids” wanted to listen to and not enough music for “old people.”  I don’t really remember seeing old people, but I guess it’s all relative.  Overheard remarks as to “I’ll jam where I want to jam, I don’t care.  I’ll march right down there and start playing.”  Then after the band (invited as guests and not entertainment) started playing, we were told to applaud.  That by itself left a bad taste in my mouth – I just don’t like people telling me what to do (which I think is amplified during pregnancy).  The next morning, when a guitar came out to play while the radio was on some mellow music that everybody could enjoy (Eagles, Tom Petty, etc) I had to really fight the urge to stare directly at the guitar player while walking to the stereo and cranking up the volume.  That may have been borderline bitchy, but I could still hear the complaints and comments from the night before.  I’m proud to say that I kept my mouth (mostly) shut, at least to the people in question.   

So, I’m taking the good with the bad.  I’m taking the lower tolerance and trying to use it to become a bit more patient with stupid people.  Maybe my next lesson will be the use of subtlety and tact.  Although, I fear I may never actually master that one.  Wish me luck!