Bebe #1

Pinky swear this blog won't turn into a full-blown play by play of my belly's squirming, but maybe this child will want some details on its earliest days? Or I'll want to know what the hell happened when I'm sleep deprived for the next unknown number of years as the babes start rolling in. Well, here you are then, little bean #1. And mom with blood-shot eyes.

Clearly, the term "morning sickness" was developed by a man that only ever saw a pregnant lady in the first few hours of the day. Reserved for the morning it is not.  The plague set in around 7 weeks, and we enjoyed a solid two months together sprinting to the bathroom before our peanut butter toast made a reappearance elsewhere.  An especially good one was out in the yard holding Roger at arm's length so he wouldn't get hit in the crossfire (although he probably definitely deserved it).  You demanded a constant stream of saltines, and anything involving raisins or red meat was a huge NO for weeks.

We had our first ultrasound at 7 weeks, and you were the cutest little amoeba we had ever seen.  My dad pointed out that you looked like you have antennae in your picture, and my brother said my uterus looked like a spooky ghost face when flipped a certain way.  Whatever.  Still cute.      

At around 10 weeks, I went in to hear your heartbeat for the first time.  The doctor cautioned that you were still tiny, and we might not be able to hear it quite yet, but I shouldn't worry.  (Yeah right.)  She whipped out the little wand, and also mentioned that it always takes a while to find the baby when they're so small.  She set the wand on my skin, and you were sitting right there for all the world to hear.  The doctor laughed, "Oh, except for you."

I really do think I first felt you around 14 weeks, even though that's (supposedly) early. I dragged Luke along to the next appointment at 15 weeks, and this time you had to be chased down to get the heart beat because you kept swimming away. 

You've been growing and growing, and your thrashing has become strong enough that even Luke can feel you now.  He waited with his hand on my belly one night and said,  "Yes, I can feel them, but they're really light." Obviously insulted, you immediately responded with a kick hard enough to make both of us jump.  Point taken.

Your favorite times to practice karate are either just as I'm laying down to go to bed or early in the morning when you feel Luke get out of bed, but I still want to sleep longer.  I also have restless legs like nobody's business and MUST do leg exercises every evening.  I'm going to say that's your doing, too. 

Today, we went in for the big halfway-mark ultrasound.  True to form, you spun around and around and covered your face with your hands.  We did steal a few good shots though, and I can't stop staring at them.

 (The hands are covering the eyes, but you can see the nostrils and lips on the right.)

 I think I was half expecting a litter of kittens to be in there from all the poking going on, so it was a relief to see one perfectly normal little head, feet, and arms.  Oh, and we decided not to find out if you're a boy or girl...I'm dying to know, but it will be the best surprise in the world when you finally (finally) come out in a few more months.  Apologies in advance if your first baby pictures are in gender-inappropriate get ups and no one knows what you are because your mother couldn't resist a good garage sale steal. You'll laugh about it. Someday. 

And here's an obligatory belly shot from the boring outside:

Your mother finally broke down yesterday and gave up her "I don't need maternity clothes yet" mantra and bought a shirt that actually fits...it's nice.  We'll spare you the sight of me in my normal clothes with half a belly hanging out.  C'est tres chic.

I'll wrap this up with a couple predictions of mine....

1.  You're a girl.  Nope, didn't see anything (or lack of anything) in the ultrasound, but I've always felt like you were a little lady.  Plus, I had a whole one dream that you were a little girl with light brown hair, and your aunt Kristy had a dream that you're also a she so...that's practically science.  I really, truly have no preference right now of whether you're a boy or girl, so we'll see who has the last laugh when you come out screamin.

2.  My mom made a comment something along the lines of, "Oh, maybe you'll have a little Stephen.  He was such a good, happy baby."  referring to my brother closest in age to me who was dependably passive.  The perfect sidekick.  I think my sister Liz was also pretty chill (Sorry Matt.  No honorable mention in this category.), so I definitely do possess the genetics somewhere (not to mention from Luke - if I could somehow get a 100% Luke baby...sign me up.) to create a calm little babe.
But no, if your eager punches are any indication, we're dealing with something else all together here.  I've heard enough stories of my childhood to know that karma is already having a good laugh at my hopes of a "Stephen".  You heard it here first.