Welcome, Elsa!

Elsa Marie: 7lbs., 12oz. & 20"


In an instant*, our lives changed forever.

*An instant that was precipitated by 28 hours of labor. But before I make myself into a martyr, the first 20 were spent at home, prompting me to make the comment that "Labor is pretty anti-climactic." (And yes, I knew it was going to get more painful before it was all over.)



At 8:46am on Friday, May 10th, Jon and I became parents...and like a friend warned us, we've been second-guessing every decision we've made since.

We didn't go into parenthood thinking we would know what we were doing--we at least had that much foresight. And we recognize that Elsa is pretty forgiving of our cluelessness. Nonetheless, the past month has been surreal.

My schedule now revolves around naps and nursing, although the multi-tasking perfectionist in me is fighting that ever-present need to cross things off my to-do list. In a weird way, having the laundry done and dishes put away makes me feel calmer. I admit that I'm an utter failure at the "sleep-when-the-baby-sleeps" concept.

That being confessed, the most important thing we've done in the past month is marvel at the miracle that is our daughter, Elsa Marie. It would be incredibly easy to spend the entire day doing what I have termed "Elsa gazing." While her personality will reveal itself in the coming weeks, months, and years, it is so entertaining to just watch her expressions change with her moods. Even her angry face is cute.

Everyone says that kids grow up fast, and it's true that it's hard to believe that an entire month has gone by. Elsa does indeed possess a super-power that enables her to make time move twice as fast as it used to. Before we know it, an hour or two have gone by, the entirety of which has been spent watching her sleep.

Yet, before we get carried away with clichés and mushy sentiments, I feel it's important to recognize what parents everywhere have known since the beginning of time: having a child is hard. We're constantly trying to figure this little girl out (a task I feel will go on for the rest of our lives). Just when we think we've noticed a pattern in sleeping or eating, for instance, the next day is completely different. There have been moments of confidence and success--back to our birth weight at the two-week check-up!--but for every one of those, there have been numerous parenting fails.

We've experienced fussy nights that end with Elsa sleeping upside down and backwards on Jon's leg as he dozes in the pillow fort he's created to prop them both up. We've experienced growth spurts that result in marathon nursing sessions which leave me with sore wrists, arms, and shoulders (among other things). We've experienced spit-up on the bed, on our clothes, and in our hair, most impressive when it comes out of Elsa's nose. And we've discussed poop--both the color and consistency, as well as the frequency--more than we ever thought we would.

It would be easy to be overwhelmed by all of these challenges (and we are very overwhelmed). It would also be easy to take for granted what a blessing this tiny human being is. So, we're trying to stay balanced and recognize that the very best thing we can do is love this sweet little baby, following God's call to be parents. Despite the inevitable ups and downs, we know that we've only just begun the greatest adventure of our lives. If the past month is any indication, it's going to be quite the journey.

Don't be deceived by her beauty (she is pretty, though, isn't she?)...Elsa was peeing on the couch while this photo was being taken, then spit up immediately afterwards.

The Nine Stages of Pregnancy

In honor of today's status as "Official Due Date," I thought I would take the opportunity to share what I have discovered as the stages of my pregnancy journey.

1. Suspicion: Call it an instinct or a hunch, but before I ever took a pregnancy test, I just had a feeling that something was going on in there, and it wasn't just indigestion. Not wanting to jinx it, I still waited a bit before confirming my intuition, leading to...

2. Excitement/Fear/Excitement/Fear/Excitement: A native Missourian (the Show-Me State), I often have to see things in order to believe them. When that blue plus sign revealed itself not once, but twice, I knew our lives were about to change. I remember crying tears of joy, which were immediately followed by some freak-out-holy-crap revelations. Apparently the pregnancy hormones had begun to kick in already.

3. Secrecy: Despite the fear/excitement cycle I found myself in, I knew I wasn't ready to share the big news with anyone but Jon (because he was actually out of town when I found out yet still managed to thwart the awesome way I had planned to tell him...which is another story). Getting pregnant and ending up with a healthy baby 9-10 months later is not the guarantee movies make it out to be, so I certainly wanted to play my cards close. Plus, it was fun to carry around that little secret (pun intended) until the time was right for the big reveal.

4. Sharing: When we passed through the initial danger zone and heard Baby's heartbeat for the first time, we decided to share the news with family and then friends. While we did figure out some creative ways to inform people that they would be grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc., we mostly went for the direct approach. I pride myself on maintaining correspondence with faraway friends, but I'm not the best phone person, so when I call out of the blue after several months, it's pretty obvious that there is some big news. Why beat around the bush?

5. Fat or Pregnant?: Anyone with an ounce of tact knows never, ever to ask a woman about her pregnancy unless 100% sure she is indeed pregnant. However, it is weird to be on the other side of this quandary. There were definitely days that I couldn't button my pants and wanted to let perfect strangers know that I was growing human life and not a food baby. Once I officially started wearing maternity clothes, however, all bets were off. In fact, I walked into class one day only to have an outspoken college freshman proclaim, "I knew you was [sic] pregnant!" (keep in mind that I teach developmental writing), which then prompted another student to announce that he thought my "stomach was getting bigger."

6. Overwhelmed: Once the initial excitement of the "baby bump" became routine, reality set in. We are going to be responsible for a real, live human being. We will have to feed said small person, as well as clothe, bathe, diaper, and transport him/her. Of course, the most important part will be loving and caring for/about Baby, but that doesn't mean all of the practical things go away. The to-do lists began to grow and the trips to the baby store grew exponentially. Who knew that such a tiny person could need so much stuff?!?

7. Celebrity: Now that Baby is just about as big as s/he will get (although not the 18 pounds my little brother predicts), and I sometimes feel like I'm wearing a circus tent (I jest--I really do enjoy the fact that my spoon shape has "blossomed" into a ladle), I have become somewhat of a celebrity to friends, acquaintances, and even perfect strangers. I don't mind when people randomly comment on my size, not even the little old lady at church who flat-out told me that I had gotten fat since the last time I'd seen her. I know I won't always view these comments as cute, so I'm trying to embrace them now. We are also enjoying the way that people can't help themselves from predicting the gender of the baby, especially when they scrutinize me as if I'm a crystal ball or something.

8. Waiting: We are just now entering this stage, and so far, it hasn't been so bad. We are planners, however, so it's a little tough not knowing exactly when Baby will make his/her triumphant entry into this world. We do know that Baby will arrive when Baby arrives, so in the meantime, we've been trying to keep ourselves occupied. I'm a natural "nester" who loves to organize, so I've been doing that for a while now, but beyond that, we've done lots of reading, eating out, and general relaxing that won't be quite so easy once Baby shows up.

9. ???: Obviously, I can't comment on labor and delivery yet, since I have no clue what that experience will entail. Despite the books I've read and the videos I've watched, I won't know until I experience it, so please wish us luck in that department, and more importantly, pray for a healthy baby!

Read this Book!

I can officially add book reviewer to my many (unpaid) jobs. Through my involvement with the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE), I learned of an opportunity to review a not-yet published book. Knowing that I had the luxury of more free time than most of the full-time teachers and professors who also received this query, I decided to do it. Plus, it meant that I got to read a book that no one else did.

Fortunately for me, the book turned out to be really good...and I'm not just saying that (unpaid, remember?). I posted a review to the book-lovers site Goodreads, sent off a blurb to the publisher, and--now that the book is officially published--posted a review to Amazon and Barnes & Noble. What follows is a more specific review:

How I Got Rich Writing C Papers is a must-read for teachers and students alike. Teacher-author Andy Hueller has cleverly disguised an accessible, non-pedantic writing guide as a fun, quick-moving novel about high school senior Charles Remington Dremmel’s (not his real name, of course) graduation legacy. From the parenthetical footnotes to the illustrated grammar metaphors, I felt connected to this narrator and was on the edge of my proverbial seat as I read to find out how he could possibly prepare his classmate-clients to finally write for themselves. It is easy to see how Charles built a successful business of writing essays for his classmates based on his strong writing voice and awareness of the skills teachers are looking for as they assess student writing. And rather than just describe traits of good—and not-so-good—writing, Charles helpfully provides sample A, B, C, and D essays. As a fellow educator, I learned some things about writing myself, especially more effective ways to teach it. I have no shame in “borrowing” Charles/Hueller’s metaphor for explaining the pesky comma splice or encouraging my students to maintain “thought fart journals.” I finished this book re-energized about the teaching of writing and ready to start a Nerf War of my own.

If I haven't made it abundantly clear by now, you should totally buy/read this book.

The Great Babymoon Escape

Besides sounding like a 1980s Muppet movie (The Great Muppet Caper, anyone?), our most recent getaway was exactly what we needed. Aware that our ability to just up and leave town for the weekend will soon be limited, both medically and practically, I was desperate to travel.

So desperate that my pregnancy-induced hormones successfully convinced Jon to launch a zero-hour search for nearby bed and breakfasts the Wednesday prior. Due to schedules and work, we knew we wouldn't be able to go far, and we were unimpressed with many of the available options...until Jon stumbled upon Hot Springs, Arkansas.

When I got home that Wednesday, I found Jon at the kitchen table with about six windows open on the computer. He started showing me some accomodations, and I knew he was on to something when he landed on "The Barrett-Browning Room" in a Victorian mansion called the 1884 Wildwood Bed and Breakfast. And then when he stumbled upon one of their relaxation packages entitled The Great Babymoon Escape...

The description from the website says it best, so here it is, verbatim:

"One last getaway before life changes drastically! Let us help you show her she is special! Candles, single rose, petals will be set up in your room as well as chilled non-alcoholic juice to toast to this new addition to your family. On to a full hour private couples massage. Hers will be a prenatal massage given by a certified prenatal massage therapist. His will be a therapeutic massage. A box of chocolates will be waiting to satisfy those cravings and a Victorian stuffed bear will be hers to take home."

It might as well have said The Great Babymoon Escape, Jon & Kristin.

This wouldn't have been much of a story if the room was unavailable, so needless to say, we were able to make the reservation, and on Friday afternoon, we set out for Hot Springs. The three-hour drive wasn't bad, especially considering that Jon was able to leave as soon as I finished class, meaning that we arrived around 6pm.

We headed straight for the bed and breakfast and were immediately greeted by the proprietor. We could tell instantly that we (well, Jon really) had made the right choice. We were given a brief tour of the beautiful home before being taken up to our room. Just before we walked in, the proprietor, David, checked one last time to "make sure everything was perfect." Well, it was, down to the soft music playing. All the little details, such as the rose petals, teddy bear, chocolates, and sparkling juice truly made it special. And I would be lying if I said I didn't notice the strategically placed Elizabeth Barrett-Browning texts.



Our room, upon arrival, really was perfect



Before we even had a chance to ask, David provided us with a list of restaurant recommendations, and we were delighted to discover that it was not an exhaustive list of options in town, but rather a selection of their favorites, complete with recommended dishes and location information. It should come as no surprise that I was pretty hungry by this point, so we headed out to dinner at a cute Italian restaurant in downtown Hot Springs.

It should also not be a surprise that I was tired, so we returned from dinner and went to bed early. We didn't know it at the time, but we had to rest up for the epic breakfast that awaited us in the morning. I can't say that I've ever had a multi-course breakfast before...unless you count the multiple servings of pancakes that my grandpa lovingly forces on us. Our first course consisted of a muffin, which was quiclky followed by a stuffed croissant (stuffed with deliciousness--even the eggs) and fruit. And then to top it off, a beautifully arranged plate of chocolate-covered strawberries, affectionately described by one of our fellow guests as "lady food."

After breakfast, the other proprietor, Rebecca, provided us with a tour of the home. Fortunately the original lady of the house left an extensive record of her life through her diaries, so there was quite a bit of information to be had. I'm sure the other guests had places to be, but they really missed out on some fascinating stories. The private tour worked to our advantage, however, because just as we finished prowling around the servants' quarters (getting me all hyped up to watch Downton Abbey), we found ourselves engaged with Rebecca in a discussion about our mutual experiences living in Europe. Such a small world.

We got to stay in the turret room!

There really wasn't much to do after the tour beside get ready for our couples' massage (what a difficult life we lead), so we headed out and only had to return once because I forgot the gift certificate. That pregnancy brain business is for real. Despite the detour, we still made it on time for our massage...ahhhhh. If I ever find myself rich, regular massages are definitely going to be at the top of my list (after donating to charity, of course).

Feeling very content and relaxed, we made our way back into Hot Springs and strolled through the quaint downtown area (childhood home of former President Bill Clinton, by the way) for a bit before heading to an early steak dinner. Early because we'd had such a large breakfast, there was no need for lunch, and steak...well, is there really a need to explain that?

We headed back to the bed and breakfast to call it a night. After scouring the extensive DVD collection, we settled on vintage Steve Martin and John Cleese and laughed our way through Dirty Rotten Scoundrels as we munched on our fancy box of chocolates. Yes, we are really this exciting.

Our final breakfast the next morning was just as good as the first, consisting of lemon poppyseed bread, sausage havarti egg, and strawberry pancakes. After some time to read and digest, we packed up for the trip back to Memphis. If it sounds like I'm advertising for our bed and breakfast, I totally am. It was a delightful place that I would recommend to anyone. If you ever find yourself in Hot Springs, Arkansas, please do yourself a favor by checking out the 1884 Wildwood Bed and Breakfast.

We did take our time on the way home, stopping in Little Rock for a little sightseeing. We drove past both the Capitol and Central High School (where the Little Rock Nine integrated the school system in 1957). Fortunately the Visitor Center was open at the latter, so we were able to get a dose of history as well, which I certainly appreciated, as I didn't have time to really check it out when I last chaperoned a field trip there a couple of years ago. But the highlight, for Jon, at least, was our stop at Diamond Bear Brewery. What a coincidence that he was able to find a brewery. Slightly tortuous for this pregnant lady, but at least they had root beer on draught.

And so, with that, our "babymoon" concluded. I'm so glad that we were able to get away and also to celebrate five years of marriage (again). Now we're totally ready for Baby...yeah, right.

Pink or Blue?

We have decided not to find out the gender of our unborn child. Despite my OCD-like tendencies and anal retentive need to plan and organize, I really like surprises. And what better surprise than the identity of your child? Jon has been on board with this plan from the beginning, although I think his motivation is that he is convinced that whatever the ultrasound revealed would be wrong.

Most people have been very supportive of our decision to be surprised. And several friends/family members have gone this route lately, so it doesn't seem that strange to us. But, there are a few people who seem shocked. How will we know what to buy?!? Well, my answer to that is simple. Even if we knew the gender, we wouldn't go overboard with pink princess gear or blue truck apparel. From an economical standpoint, since we envision having more than one child (although we'll see how #1 goes first), we would like to use as much of this ridiculously expensive stuff again as possible.

And from a philosophical point of view, I feel that just because society wants to dictate our gender roles doesn't mean we have to follow them. If Baby Luigi is a girl, she can wear pink and purple dresses to her heart's content if she wants to. Likewise, she can wear baggy jeans, sneakers, and a baseball cap if she feels like it. But we're not going to force it, at least not all the time (some of those little dresses are pretty cute!). Sadly, there is a bit of a double-standard when it comes to boys and traditionally "girl" attire. Girls can wear boy clothes, but boys can't wear girl clothes. At any rate, what I'm getting at is that we would still have just as much green and yellow as we would blue or pink. And now I'm done with my feminist tangent.

Regardless, it's not like anyone knows anyway. I haven't had an ultrasound since about week 12, so there is no way that anyone could spill the beans (a not-so-secret fear of mine). I know it's a cliché , but we're really just hoping for a healthy baby. I've envisioned both scenarios--boy or girl--in my head and feel like it could go either way. While I initially thought Baby Luigi was a boy, lately, everyone else seems to think girl.

Yup, everyone else.

Because what we've discovered is that not finding out has turned every friend, acquaintance, and even stranger into Miss Cleo of 1-900 infamy. It's actually pretty fun to hear these guesses, as well as the reasoning behind them. And really, with the exception of the recent rash of girl predictions, it's been a pretty even boy/girl split...which is actually statistically accurate.


Some of our favorite reasons follow:

*It's a boy because I just know. -co-worker

*It's a girl because my mom had a girl first. -6-year-old writer (Here's how this conversation went: "What do you have already?" "Neither--this is our first baby." "Oh, then's a girl because I'm the oldest and I'm a girl.")

*It's a girl because your nose isn't getting bigger. And you haven't changed (ie, you aren't irritated all the time). -high school writer

*It's a boy/girl because you're carrying high/low. -multiple armchair doctors (The tricky thing with this one is that no one can seem to decide if carrying low--which I think I am--means boy or girl.)

*It's a boy because your brother has girls. -my mom


So, there you go. Like I told the dentist yesterday, we just hope it's one or the other.

Skillet Cookies

The only way to run a marathon is to do so with four friends. Not in a training group so you can encourage one another through the arduous miles. Literally. Like splitting up the race into five pieces.

Jon and I recently ran in the St. Jude Memphis Marathon Relay, the first time this particular event was held. Due to our involvement in a weekly running group, we heard that a relay was to be added to the wildly popular full marathon, half-marathon, and 5K distances. I instantly wanted in. Jon and I had tried unsuccessfully to sign up for the half-marathon for the past two years, as the race filled up before we could register (mere days prior in 2011). The relay seemed like the perfect alternative to run in a race whose starting line is a short walk from our apartment. Plus, it seemed like a heck of a lot more fun than running 26.2 or even 13.1 miles.

Since 2012 was the inaugural relay, it took a bit longer for logistics to be worked out for the race, delaying the registration period. But we were ready. (It didn't hurt that one of the teammates we recruited works for St. Jude on the fundraising side and had insider information about when sign-ups would officially begin.) We were able to convince some friends to run with us, and once they were on board, the most important decision became our team name.

Due to our mutual love of a dessert served at a near-by restaurant, we decided to call ourselves the Skillet Cookies (the skillet cookie is exactly what it sounds like: a chocolate chip cookie baked in a cast iron skillet topped with vanilla ice cream). Since we signed up in the summer for a race run at the beginning of December, once this crucial decision was made, our preparations relaxed a bit until the fall.

It just so happened that our St. Jude fundraiser teammate also knows the owner of the skillet cookie establishment and was able to convince the owner to sponsor our team. Thus, we had shirts made with our nicknames, as well as the name of the restaurant, of course, on the back. Oh, and a picture of a skillet and some cookies.

But choosing those nicknames was not as easy as determining a team name. After some intense e-mailing, each member of our team--including our "team mom"/#1 cheerleader--was christened with a new name. You can't pick our your own nickname, you know. Most nicknames ended up being portmanteaus (two or more blended words) related to our own names, personal interests, college affiliations, favorite foods, ethnicities, etc.

Owleyesonu, Recovering Eataholic, Kornhustler, Hoppsenjoggin, and Flantastic (not pictured: Naganseemi--no pun intended)

As we neared race day, the flurry of e-mails picked up once again as we established our relay order. Rather than split the 26.2 mile distance evenly amongst five runners, the race director divided the legs into different distances. In order, the distances were as follows: 5K (3.1 miles), 10K (6.2 miles), 6K (3.8 miles), and two halves of a half-marathon (6.55 miles a piece).

I was chosen to lead off with the 5K distance due to my present "condition." This was fine by me as I didn't want the pregnant lady slowing the team down either. Jon ran the 4th leg for a 6.55 mile distance. Even though my pace has slowed a bit lately, I still felt confident in my ability to run 3.1 miles without a lot of additional training, although Jon definitely tried to push himself a bit harder in the weeks leading up to race day.

On the morning of the race, we gathered with our team prior to going to our respective relay exchange areas. The weather was warm and the mood was light. We hung out and chatted for a bit until it was time for me to head to the starting line. In a race the size of St. Jude, start times are staggered based on each individual's pace. Race experience has taught me that runners are an optimistic bunch, so it's always a good idea to begin with a group that is a bit faster than you expect to run. I chose the approrpriate group, as my overall pace was spot-on with the specified time, although if I were to start the relay again, I would choose a faster group since I didn't actually start the race until about ten minutes after the elite runners took off.

Prior to the race, the consensus attitude on our team was that we were all just running for fun. However, when I was in the crush of other runners at the starting line, my competitiveness kicked in. It was definitely "go time." Everyone else on our team echoed a similar sentiment once we reunited. And it paid off.

I was lucky enough to have the "fun" part of the course, mostly taking me through downtown and throngs of cheering fans. I was feeling good; it was nice to push myself (within reason, of course) again. I did feel kind of like a jerk, however, when I neared the end of my 3.1 mile distance because I had the luxury of stopping. Most of the people around me had 10-23.1 more miles to go and probably resented the runner who was trying desperately to pass them. I didn't feel too guilty, though, and definitely ran the final stretch with my elbows out.

I passed our belt and team number (the marathon relay equivalent of a baton) to Runner #2 who went on to run her 6.2 miles in an excellent time. In fact, everyone on our team ran really well. Thanks to technology, we were able to keep up with our team's progress via the Internet. After I finished my portion of the race, I had a lot of waiting to do. I hung out with the various members of our team who had either finished or were yet to run and got to cheer along with our "team mom" (the wife of Runner #3).

The four of us who were finished were able to cheer on our anchor--a last-minute substitute--as he crossed the finish line. We were bummed that our original anchor wasn't able to run with us; he "deployed" to New Jersey for Hurricane Sandy. However, his replacement did a fine job, and we are so grateful for his willingness to run with us. In fact, his effort (along with everyone else's, of course) earned us a 3rd place finish! Not too shabby for a group of people fond of cookie desserts who were just running for fun.

Marathon relays: the only way to conquer 26.2 miles.

We're Having a Baby!

This post is admittedly a bit anti-climactic considering how the few people who read this blog have known for a while that Jon and I are expecting. That being said, however, now that we have reached the halfway point (it's all downhill from here, right?), it's time for some reflection.


In no particular order...Things I Have Learned From Being Pregnant (So Far):

1. Much to my disappointment, not drinking and not feeling like eating big meals did not equate into any sort of initial weight loss. A permanent feeling of bloat took care of that pipe dream. I am, however, liking what is happening to my body. As a natural "spoon" shape, I have always had somewhat of a pregnant physique. Now, it's to be celebrated. That being said, I feel weird sharing our weekly "baby bump" photos (in fact, Jon has pretty much banned that term), so if you want to know how things are progressing, you'll just have to come visit...or wait for us to visit you.

2. This baby has a sense of irony already. We live in the #2 BBQ city in the country (following Kansas City, of course), and barbecue is one of the few foods I can't stomach. My eating habits have changed, and I feel like a person who just had gastric by-pass surgery. I'm hungry more often, but my stomach can't seem to hold as much, meaning I feel full much faster. Also, I am not craving foods that I expected to, like guacamole and Mexican food in general, although I did eat Fruit Roll-ups for the first time in about 15 years. However, I've never wanted to eat sushi more than I do right now. Or a turkey sandwich. Or stinky cheese. Or a hot dog...

3. It was fun to keep the pregnancy a secret for a while, yet coming up with (what we think are creative) ways to share the news has been enjoyable as well. The two most popular questions are "Do you know/are you going to find out the gender?" (no--we love surprises and can't think of a better one) and "Have you thought of any names?" (no--but something short to go with our ridiculously long last name). We do, however, have a name for Baby in utero, thanks to my grandpa: Luigi. Where he came up with that, I have no idea, as it's a far cry from his usual suggestion of Smedley Hoover.

4. A former night owl, I have now officially become a morning person, much to my chagrin. I have a lot more energy to accomplish things in the morning, often waking up before the alarm, while I'm pretty much useless in the evenings.

5. Creepy, alien-baby sonogram pictures carry much more meaning when they are of your child...although s/he still looks like a prehistoric bird.

6. Maternity pants are extremely comfortable. I may never go back to regular pants again. Nonetheless, many of my shirts and dresses will most likely work throughout my pregnancy, which is a bit revealing about my sense of fashion. And all of the padded bras I had to buy for dance costumes are coming in handy since they're really the only ones that fit now.

7. Not drinking has not been as difficult as I thought it might be, although having a husband who brews his own beer is a bit tempting. Watered-down Sprite is a poor--albeit acceptable--substitute at Happy Hour.

8. It is possible to run a half-marathon when 11 weeks pregnant (especially when the race was registered and paid for months in advance), although said pregnancy is an excellent excuse reason to skip speed training. I'm going to keep jogging as long as I can, although it's hard not to be competitive at our running group. I have to keep telling myself that it's okay to go slower than normal.

9. For some reason, I continue to be surprised at how many textbook symptoms I have experienced; it's like going down a checklist. Runny nose? Check. Bleeding gums? Yup. Heartburn? You betcha. I have been very fortunate, however, and really can't complain. I've felt mostly good most of the time. I'm not surprised that I haven't really had any morning sickness, as throwing up has always been a rare occurrence for me...although there have been lots of times that I'd wished I could have just vomited, as the frequent evening nausea seemed just as bad.

10. Even though I'm about to embark on what I imagine to be the most selfless endeavor of my life, I have never felt more selfish. Since I haven't felt any (definitive) movements from Baby, it's still really hard to believe that there is a human being growing inside of me. Right now, I'm mostly focused on how I feel and how I look. I recently read a quote in a pregnancy book that made me feel less guilty about that (just as hearing the heartbeat at my last doctor's appointment made me feel more reassured that indeed there is something going on in there): "I feel like my body is preparing me for motherhood by reminding me what it's like to be a child. I eat every three hours, want things I don't need, cry because I'm tired, and I've become a bit of a narcissist."


So, that's where we're at. I'm excited and nervous and anxious for all of the changes that the next 20 weeks (and beyond) will bring, particularly as this whole baby thing becomes increasingly more real.