Archive for August 2011

The phrase “trying for a baby” throws me off, and it throws Kevin off even more. The one time someone asked, we weren’t quite sure how to respond. Maybe because “trying” suggests effort and work, neither of which I associate with sex. “Trying for a baby” suggests timing and planning and scheduling … and makes Kevin think people just aren’t having enough.

A couple weeks ago I stumbled across some birthing videos online and, idiotically, watched them. OH CRAP. First impressions?

  • I don’t want a c-section.
  • I don’t want an episiotomy.
  • I think the epidural scares me more than a natural birth.
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Apparently the baby bump isn’t supposed to show until second trimester, but at nine weeks I already look like this:

Okay, so what. It’s not much. But even two weeks ago my brother took one look and exclaimed, “WHOA! You’re fat!”

Because he knows that I normally have a four-pack. And he knows there’s never been any bump whatsoever. Maybe that’s why it’s so noticeable so soon – even if it isn’t the baby, just water retention – because I’ve always been so thin.

Just another PMS symptom that has never applied to me, which I’m now experiencing in pregnancy. I’ve always wondered what bloating feels like. Well, I still don’t know what it feels like … but I guess I know now what it looks like!

I feel hot all the time, and I overheat easily. Something as mundane as vacuuming or folding laundry might make me break out in sweat.

Interestingly, since being pregnant I find that I’m less inclined to censor myself. I’m more likely to say what I think. Kevin’s like, “YES! FINALLY!” but the caveat is that I also care less about potentially hurting people’s feelings.

On Monday, as we arrived at Cultus Lake for a few days of tent camping, the conversation under the pavilion turned to packing – specifically, how some people had overpacked. “It’s two nights! What is there to bring?”

A jokes, “Well, you know, a curler and flat iron and …”

As I roll my eyes, the girlfriend says, “Yeah, I brought my blow dryer and hair straightener … that’s just the way it is.”

And I said, “Are you shitting me.”

See, normally I’d think it but not say it. This time it just kind of popped out. And it surprised people because it was so uncharacteristic. I don’t even know whether I’d take it back; all I really feel is ambivalence.

(I never blow-dry my hair. It would probably take half an hour or more. Air-drying takes several hours, but at least I can be doing other things while it dries. I’m nothing if not practical.)

My parents and Kevin’s are on polar opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to grocery habits. His parents shop as a hobby and are compulsive stockpilers. Mine wait until the fridge is utterly empty before they go.

Case in point: last weekend we bought ten sockeye salmon from the father of my Native American friend, who lives in a fishing village. Two for us, eight for my in-laws. Kevin and his dad spent two hours that evening cleaning and filleting the fish.

You’d think ten salmon is a lot already, but this week they wanted more … fifteen more. They ended up getting another ten (five for us, five for the in-laws).

Now, when Kevin asked my parents if they wanted any, my mom said no. She said that the other day someone from church had given them a large salmon fillet. They’d baked it and eaten half. Then the leftovers went bad, so she threw them away!

Should’ve seen Kevin’s face then. It was like she’d hurt his feelings.

Apparently I’m in the eighth week of pregnancy. Despite having studied the progress of embryo development in exhaustive detail in fourth-year developmental neurobiology, I didn’t know that delivery date is calculated from the first day of the last period. I’m so n00b.

I’m finding that I tire easily, which I’m not used to. Sometimes I’m lethargic and don’t feel like moving. I have little appetite for meat, especially red meat, and heavily-flavoured things. I crave fruit, pasta, and sashimi (which I can’t have).

Also, my belly is no longer flat. My belly has never NOT been flat! I think it’s water retention, because baby is still, what, the size of a lentil? Not that it’s very noticeable. Just … alien. Everything still fits.

So much for bypassing morning sickness. I suppose I’m guilty of an irrational kind of arrogance, the kind that hopes statistics won’t apply to me.

Still, it’s only mild nausea, not bad enough that I feel like throwing up. The smell of oil seems to trigger it. Bleh. I’m perpetually thirsty. Last night I had a sudden, odd craving for kimchi – odd because I’m not even a huge fan of kimchi. Odd enough that Kevin didn’t believe it was for real. If that was a pregnancy craving, it wasn’t noticeably different from regular “I’m in the mood for this” cravings that come and go.

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