Evolution of a Pregnant Belly

Feeling a little nostalgic about pregnancy lately. I felt so different while growing my baby, the hormones and days were tilted just so. I felt quiet and protective. Insular. And forever changed. I saw a little newborn the other day and felt I already needed another one. Luckily, the moment passed quickly :-). We will wait. We will wait for the moment. For the right one. We will know, just know--when to find when to birth when to meet--our next little one...Until then, here's the evolution of a pregnant belly...in memoriam.

Stats: 

Gained 40 lbs during pregnancy

four months postpartum--5 lbs from pre-pregnancy weight

actually took this the day I went into labor :-)

this is me at the three months postpartum mark. Belly soft, but back to thin. A little bulge left where my little angel grew...

Diary of a Due Date

Today was dripping with pretty.

I woke up to the quiet licks of lightening, appearing like white veins in the grey sky. The cracks of thunder moved me to the window. The scene was drenched. Flowers lit up our yard--bits of paint, yellow and red roses. They were bright and vivid. Bursting against the slicked green leaves. 

I listened to the sound of the world and loved her. Loved her chatter. The cymbal sound on the concrete. I was glad for it. Glad that today looked different than other days. I wanted the outside to be different. 

I walked for an hour today with my mother-in-law in this warm, wet neighborhood--we trekked over the hills, pausing at snails. It felt purposeful--her and I--waiting for the little guy, swinging him in my hips, encouraging him. We ate egg and cheese sandwiches and baked sugar cookies, frosting them at the table. I drank my raspberry tea and we enjoyed the weather together. The silence outside soothed me. 

I am so tired now. I let the Big Day pass over me. I am thankful for it. Thankful it's over. I can get on with real things, like uncertainty. And life.

Hurry Up and Wait

I'm still here. Full moon pregnant.

Forty weeks in just days. These things seems so arbitrary now...my little man knows little of the date we've chosen for him. 

I hear pineapple helps induce labor. And sex. And walking. I'll try them all...

I've nested. And re-nested. The closet are clean. The cupboards organized. I did six loads of my husband's laundry on Sunday. In the decade we've been together, I've only washed one load of his laundry. And I ruined two of his shirts. This time. His clothes are clean and perfect. Nesting is real. 

Now I want my dark corner. Like a cat. I've shuffled around my nest of newspapers. I want to SIT DOWN and WAIT. I want to Be Quiet. I want darkness. And silence. Leave me alone world, I have the world's work to do...

38 Weeks. Wait...whaa?

Time has stopped completely. I am paralyzed. I can do nothing. I can think nothing but when when when will this happen? I am obsessed.

I can't believe I'm here. I'm on the fringe of mommyhood. Isn't this something other people do? Not me, there's no way I'm ready for this.

I am gathering up my little baby belongings. I am lining them against the crib. I am thumbing through his little baby closet daily. I am picking out outfits for him. I am wondering who he will be. How will I usher him through this life, as best I can, without being TOO MUCH.

I am mourning every moment of right now. Almost like the way one mourns grandparents who lived good long lives. I am sad to see this moment GO, but I know it's time.

I have a headache right now and my belly is moving like crazy. Dax is shuffling around in his amniotic hammock, making himself at home. I don't know why, but labor still feels like a ways off. I have a feeling I won't be early. Or so my intuition says. I think I'll sense when it's closer. I'll just know...

Does everyone around me feel the weight of the world shift? Do they feel the light in the air move differently? Nothing feels the same to me right now. Every moment is a moment I've never felt before. I'm knee-deep in Change.

I love you, my little buddy. I will miss you in my belly. I will miss your turns and rolls, your closeness, your safeness, you're unknown.

But right now, I want you OUT. My dear son,

I want to hear you Laugh.

making little mes&yous

I met my little boy last night, tucked inside my dreams. He was whisked away after delivery to be cleaned. I waited for an hour to see him. In dream time, probably like one minute. When I saw him, he was everything I thought he'd be: handsome and mine. I was relieved to find I loved him instantly.

In the blurry edges of last night, he was born atleast 6 months old as he could already charm people with his baby kisses. I saw old friends and they oohed and awwed. In my dream everything was All Right. All Right, I beamed.

In real life, I'm about six weeks away from B day. Six weeks. Did you hear that? Six f**king weeks. A blink. Of an eye. My obsession is reaching fever pitch. I wonder/worry/think aloud only pregnancy. Last night at the movies, I worried the volume was too loud for my little one's inner ear. I put a protective extra hand over my belly, hoping the extra layer of skin would dull the bass of the surround sound.

I look at Dave now and can't wait to see him as a Father. A Dad. My Husband. My Life's Love. I am overwhelmed with how much I love him. Last night, as I was a bit sick to my stomach, feeling down and achy, he led me downstairs where it was cooler. He brought me chilled water and a pillow for my belly. The other pillow we shared, head to head, on the green fabric sectional couch. You and me, we formed an L. A Picture of Love. We woke up hours later with the twinkle lights in the trees, yellow on our limbs. You held my arm as we sleep-walked up the stairs.

These moments guarantee that I'll love you forever. When you painted the nursery, I loved you. When you said told me you were sorry that I felt down, I loved you. When you say 'good morning' to my belly, I loved you. The blessings we share do not escape me. Not one day could go by without me counting from one to a zillion why I'm the luckiest girl on earth.  

I am looking forward to enjoying these last few weeks of our aloneness. It's been You and Me for eight great years. And I think I'm going to miss that. In the forever we face as we grow our descendants, I will miss just You and Me. I know the journey is going to be different and amazing and change us in ways we can't imagine and believe you me I'm looking forward to that. It's time. I know that.

But I aim, through all this love and change and making little mes&yous, to keep my eyes on you too. And you keep your eyes on me too, k? Cause in the end, isn't it still just You and Me?

Bullocks to the Third

So pregnancy has been pretty easy on me, I have to admit. I am blessed, I do not deny this. Even so, the third trimester IS the pits. Baby Dax is uber-expanding and I've read that he doubles in size in like the next six weeks. W. T. F.  Sleeping is getting to be a pillow extravaganza. Even my cats have forsaken the bed for the floor.

I had a baby shower in Minnesota last week. It was really lovely. Here's some pics from my trip...

                                                the mobile my sis made for the shower...

Mmm...paper airplane cupcakes...

                                                                      belly shot in red...

I am 33 weeks today, but here's last week's pic...

Naps for Everyone

Here he is (kinda)!

31 weeks...Got 9 weeks to go...Eek, single digits!

Isn't it obvious already how darn cuuuuute he is ;-)?!

Silhouette in Blue

 I worked on the house today. It feels like the first time since we've moved in that I've had a weekend without a barbeque or wedding or visitors or out-of-town travel. I meant to get so much more done, but I'm slower now; I kind of shuffle around the house.

The last couple days I've pretty much eaten very poorly. It seems like cakes and cookies and ice cream bars are the quickest solution to my hunger pangs. How cliche are these cravings? Pre-preggo, I don't typically crave that stuff--I kind of considered the "sweet tooth" a sign of weakness. Um, yeah...I will retract that judgement for the rest of my life thankyouverymuch. 

I go through stages though. While I can always make it through breakfast with some tasty fruit and whole grain Cheerios or english muffin, the nighttimes kind of are like hit or miss. It depends on how much I feel like cooking. Today? Not so much...

Dax's room is filling up with his toys and sheeps and baby things that keep arriving in the mail. I started a pile by his pack-n-play. I love looking at it. I love imagining him sleeping there. I love imagining his cry, his smile, his presence. I smile all by myself sometimes. 

Who are you, little man?

You're my heart. You're my heart.

Snippets of Things to Say

I was hugging the curves around Bancroft Street today when I saw a playground to my right. In my mind's eye, a giant brown unicorn lounged in the yard. It was a tangled branch. Still, I wasn't disappointed.

At the wedding last weekend in Jerome, AZ, we all cuddled inside the garden. We talked about large things like love and eternity. The fountain was too loud sometimes, I couldn't hear the words that slipped from our lips, but I knew them anyway. We were all trying to find forever here. We believe.

In our little flat above the Flat Iron Cafe, you and me, we could see the red and pink cliffs in the distance. How cute are these stores in Jerome, lined up like brightly colored antiques? We fumble up the town's stairs hand in hand. I feel so petite and pretty and protected by you...seven months pregnant...your little lady...I feel safe...and slightly owned by you. How primal are we...

Cupid-sized boxes keep arriving in the mail for our little one. Yesterday, I opened a board book and got teary-eyed. "This is for our son," I thought, as the image of him poured into my heart. I ached for his presence just then. These not-yet memories thrill me.

My brother is filling his space here. I am pleasantly pleasant. I've missed him. The cakes he's making help. Like a lot.

You Get the Picture...

Time is moving hand over fist now. Yesterday, I bought this birth help CD's to help me with my no-drugs birth. I am going au natural not because I am against drugs, but more for the fact that I'm a control freak. I want to feel it so I know when to push. I figure the less intervention, the more quickly this labor thing will go. I'm flexible, but I'm preparing for labor diligently to avoid drugs and interventions as much as possible.

The approach I will be using is called "hypnobabies." It is more about self-hynosis and relaxation techniques so that fear does not take over. It uses visualization and deep relaxation techniques that still allows you to be completely aware and in the moment, but supposedly reduces the pain of labor. The birth stories are actually quite amazing. It's a lot of work though in the next few weeks, and my lovely husband also has to do some work so he can help me. He is totally willing. I love that about him.

I keep having these vivid dreams. The other day I had one where I gave birth to our baby boy, but he just fell out of my vagina. I wasn't at the hospital and I was way early. He was bloody and purple and I had the umbilical cord still attached to me and attached to him as I ran around trying to find someone to help me cut the cord. I remember thinking he'd be ok, but the terror of the whole thing made me choke.

I'm pregnant enough now where people give up their seats for me and young kids at the grocery store want to lift my bags. However, I'm also pregnant enough where my damn feet hurt and I really do need it. Laugh out loud.

I'm am almost 30 weeks now, but here's a couple 27 week photo (six months incubated)...

Here's clothed and looking much more pregnant...

These are the days of our lives...

The little dude in my belly is all over the place. How big could he possibly be? I feel him from my ribs to my pelvis. He rolls and kicks. The intimacy of it is such an internal joy. Such a complete satisfaction.

Having him growing up in my insides makes me feel so grown-up. Not on an intellectual level--I'm not just saying things. I mean I really feel different.  Like I am on the cusp of a new identity. I'll never come back from it. I know this. I welcome this. I fear this.

I had a beautiful day today, unpacking boxes and shuffling the office around. The presence of my brother helps quell the loneliness. It takes the edge off my desperation. Normally, when Dave gets home I'm like an abandoned puppy. I can't even stop myself from chewing on his leg. So I am grateful that conversation with other humans has calmed me thus far. I imagine Dave is grateful too although he's so damn sweet he'd never admit he noticed my child-like attention needs.

It also makes my pregnancy more real, to actually be around people who can see that yes, it's true, I'm actually pregnant. I don't have to status-update on Facebook to remind you. You see it every day. That's another reason I loved my sister's visit. That's a reason I enjoyed my Phoenix visit. And that's the reason I'll enjoy that barbeque tomorrow. When it's more real in the world, it feels more real to me.

I finally found the cord to my camera in one of the boxes I unpacked. I have much to show you!

Team Blue

IT'S A BOY!!!!  (Did I mention how I knew that? I like sooooo knew that...) 
P.S. My mother, the witch, changed her vote prior to the ultrasound. She knew. Of course she knew. Or. She changed the course of history... that's soooo par for the course.

(My mother used to tell us that our real mother was in a flower pot. On the porch. You see? There's proof--she's even admitted her witchy ways!!!)

Anyway, back to our little boy. My son. My son whose in my belly. He's so real to me now all of the sudden. I visualize him and make dreams for him. I talk to him more. I rub my belly and try to soothe him. I played him Jack Johnson yesterday while I did the dishes. I picked the tunes especially for him--he feels like a kid who might like Jack Johnson.

I feel him now. I mean, literally. He does backflips in there. It is THE coolest thing EVER to feel him bump around in there.

I'm so excited to know now for sure that he's a little boy. These types of things define your family. Now, I know, my first born is a boy. That creates a certain type of dynamic in a family. It shapes things. Futures.

I don't get those peeps that decide not to find out. Like I SERIOUSLY can't wrap my mind around it. They're like, "It will be a surprise." But, I mean, isn't it a surprise when you hear? Whenever you hear it?  I started crying when the ultrasound tech told us. Dave's smile was a smile I have never seen him wear before--the joy of knowing what your family will look like. The knowledge. It was a beautiful, beautiful moment. And then, when we told everyone, the reactions were filled to the brim with excitement.

There's so many uncontrollables/unknowables in labor, in new parenthood. Such as, how will labor feel? Will the baby be healthy? Holy shit, I'm gunna be a mom? How long does labor take? Will I be able to breastfeed right away? How will my partner react? How will our relationship change once the baby is here? My body? My boobs? Omg, What the f**k am I gunna do with a KID?!

The ONE thing you can control, is knowing what gender you might have. You can figure out what color to paint the nursery. You can register for cute clothes and blankets. You can pick a name. You can talk to your baby, BY their name, therefore bonding with them. Knowing the sex takes away one question mark in the big question mark of parenthood.

I've also heard the whole "I'm old-fashioned" argument. Pshh, Lame. Back in the day, they HAD to wait till birth to find out the gender. Reminder: They also didn't have cell phones or toilets Back In The Day. Do you want to pee in a pot too? I didn't think so...

I run into these girls everywhere though, that don't want to know. I nod and smile politely as they explain weakly, "We want it to be a surprise." Ugh, it will. I promise you, whenever you find out, it will be a surprise. There's no reason to wait until labor. Seriously, no GOOD reason to wait until labor. It seems like very unnecessary anticipation. Isn't the miracle of birth exciting enough? You don't get a cookie or a prize for "holding out," ladies.

And I know there's plenty girls reading this who are probably reeling now in defense. They themselves chose the "wait till birth" route as their co-workers and friends and families rallied around them for almost an entire year, with their old wive's tales and their bets and their guesses (which, um, could have been solved with a simple 'yea or nay' from the ultrasound tech).

Others reading this are reeling in defense of their loved ones who have made this decision. And so I semi-apologize for my outspoken passions. Maybe if someone could show me/tell me any other GOOD reason that might make a lick of sense to me. Then, I'll gladly change my tune. Until then, in my head, I'll be shaking my head.

But of course, to each his own...I do still love my girls who have done this (of course I have friends and family who have chosen this, don't we all? Sigh). But while I still love you, I just don't love your behavior ;-)

Here's my 20 week shot. Halfway done!!! As a disclaimer: I do take these shots in the a.m. before any food or anything, so that I show myself in the best light. I also stand nice and tall and fix the lighting in iPhoto. So for all those "I sorta hate you" notes I got on my last post, I want to assure you that if they were taken at night, it would look atleast twice as big as this. I'm just too vain to show you all that...

Today is the day before the day that...

we find out about our little baby--BOY or GIRL? I am just itching with anticipation. So much so, that I want to eat my arm. I want to just tear the flesh clear off with my teeth. Stare at the wall while I chew the rubber and fuggetaboutit.

Oh my gosh that's gross.

I am writing this because I want records. Records that, I, Darcy K---, believe it's a boy. I want to be right about this because I think I have just sick intuition that typically just knows all sorts of fun/interesting/sad things. So--if I'm wrong--my world will probably crumble, cave in on itself. For those of you who know (love?) me, I ain't so good at being wrong. Not my strong suit. So pray for me, that for me, I might be right, so I don't have to reevaluate my entire life. (PLUS, Dave and I super-dig our boy name.)

Let also, the record stand, that my mom and sis kinda swear it's a girl. And that's the only thing that bugs me about this entire thing, because they are like witches or something and have voodoo intuition powers of their own that probably change the course of history to their liking. Or at least to mess with my worldview. Just to mess with my worldview. Because they have a sick sense of humor. Which I tend to like, ok delight in, 'cept when I happen to be the receivee.

To close, I have some pics of 18 week belly. I am now 19 1/2 tho, and since this pic, have "popped," which really means my entire wardrobe is f**king useless. Soon, I'll be 20 weeks, my baby will be half-done, 1/2 ready to meet the world, and you'll see--pregnancy is upon me. For now, here's the last "honeymoon" preggo pic.

A Pregnant Pause

I can feel spring. She's so light and pretty. She's the color of hot pink. She's flooded the atmosphere. She's always my favorite. I feel light too. Like running. Like air.

It's the same spring. I slip back into my body. The darkness lifts. Why was I ever so silent, moods wrapped like nooses around the insides?

It's a different spring. I have you in my body. In my belly. In my torso.

They say you are three inches long now. They say you can suck your thumb. They say your eyes are becoming your eyes.

Sometimes, I wish I could feel you. You feel so abstract to me. I want to feel something profound. I want to know you.

At other times, I feel like I know everything about you already. And you're you. And I've known you for thousands of years. I've loved you for lifetimes. I've held you so many times. I can't wait to see you again.

I wish that I dreamt of you.

Instead, I dream of cigarettes. Not a week goes by in the astral plane that I don't scramble behind a tin building with my stolen booty and chain smoke. In these nightly flights, I'm even still pregnant. But I'm deviant. I relish each puff. I'm sorry for that, my dear. I may not have control over my mind, but as for my body, I remain smoke-free.

What are you doing today, my love? Do you sense my thoughts, my dreams for you? Does the tap of the keys soothe you?

I am almost fourteen weeks now. I miss wine. I miss an icy cold beer on a hot spring day. I miss long baths. I miss drowning my mornings with caffeine. I miss the me that is leaving. It's impossible to keep her. I think it's o.k. Of course it's o.k. It's more than o.k.

Sleep late, my love, we have a long journey. We're done with the first trimester now. We sigh in relief.

To whoever you might be, I pray that I can help you be Who You Are.

A Farewell to Boobs

I've taken to binding my breasts, much like the ancient Chinese practice of foot binding. The purpose of this exercise is to stop their out-of-control growth spurned by my current condition of pregnancy, or in other words 'growing a human being inside of my insides.'

Granted, other than the ambitious growth of my upper lady humps, I've been exceptionally lucky in the arduous task of human growing. In these past 11 weeks, nary a mouthful of vomit has projected itself. My moods are smooth as butter. And my belly only really shows when I eat too much pizza. However, do not envy me. I have not been spared.

Almost immediately after the two pink 'you're preggo' lines crawled into our lives, my boobs blew up. Like balloons. I said them, "Girls, stop it, you're getting ahead of yourselves...you have nine months. No need to rush." They were uninterested in my pleas.

This wouldn't be such a tragedy if I began with smaller breasts, say an A or a B cup. Sure, then I would welcome the increased blood flow to meh jugs. But I am a C cup. And not just any old C cup, a perfect C cup. I LOVE my boobs. I'm not joking. When Dave first saw them years ago, he gasped. If it sounds like I'm bragging, it's because I am. (I will share this: my ass is flat. Feel better?)

I didn't always have them. I earned them through prayer. You see, I was a late bloomer. In sixth grade and all the way through middle school, I was breastless. Skinny and big-toothed. The first time I wore a bra to school, Danny W. grabbed the thin rung of fabric under my shirt and snapped it hard against my back, "Why are YOU wearing a BRA?" Everyone laughed.

Or how bout' when I cried at a birthday party attended by atleast twenty of the coolest kids in 7th grade and Aaron S. taunted loudly, "Hey Darcy, did that board come with your shirt?!" Everyone laughed.

And so I turned my pain to God. I made deals like, "if you give me boobs, I'll be good forever." I was earnest and consistent in my prayers. By the end of ninth grade, God delivered. And they were glorious. Not too big, not too small, proportional, and well-shaped. Even Danny W., my former arch nemesis, eventually commented. He said, nodding in the direction of my chest, "Those sure turned out all right." Instead of punching him, I beamed.

So you can imagine my panic when my perfect C's ballooned into D's during the very early weeks of pregnancy. The fear only multiplied when fellow procreaters warned, "It only gets worse." I almost started crying when one of my best friends told me she got her breasts done after her two babies were born because they quote, "looked like cow udders."

I've even heard stories about out-of-control nipple growth. To calm myself down, I consulted my mother, who has a talent for diffusing my fears: "They go back to normal after pregnancy right mom?!" In this case, she merely shrugged (in other words, your boobs might never be the same hon).

So I've turned vigilante; I've started a war with my changing body, in the hopes that I'll stave off any significant change. I figure this too-small sports bra that I'm wearing as a binding mechanism will cut off the blood supply, and my body will just forget about them. Trick my body into circumventing normal pregnancy breast changes. Hey, it worked for the Chinese--just look at their tiny feet!

Let's face it though, my cleavage is borderline lewd. And worse yet, perhaps it's God's inevitable payback. I mean honestly,I haven't really held up my side of the bargain of the "being good forever" breast exchange. Woes me.

I'm gunna just hope and wish and pray that when it's all over, I get my boobs back. It must happen somewhere, to someone. Right?! (Please tell me if this has happened to you. I need real empirical data girls.)

The worst is when people say, trying to console, "But look what you're getting in exchange? A beautiful baby!"

I say, "Oh shove it! You ain't never seen meh boobs."

Re: Liberation

Let's free the words now, so they can come crashing down into form. These binary codes are energy transfers--heart to heart.

I'm back. I left. I know. Oh You, so much has changed...

I'm pregnant. How much bigger news can I give you? My little future me, but not at all me, is alive in me. It's 10.5 weeks old. 10.5 weeks old! omg omg omg omg omg omg...it's kinda sorta all I think about. The head track sounds like this: "I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, should I eat this? how bout this? wait, what feeling was that? am I showing yet? is everything ok in there? I hope so. I'm pregnant. Omg I'm pregnant. This is weird. Is this real? I'm going to have a baby? Wait, omg, I'm going to have a baby! I'm excited. I'm terrified. Omg omg I'm pregnant."

And then it just kind of repeats itself. All day long. I'm sure stronger/cooler women are not so obsessive, but whatev. I'm 30 years old. I'm not trying to impress my high school friends anymore (ok that's a prolly a lie).

We found the little buggar just days after my "woes-me no-pregnancy blog." I think it pays to cry. I stand by that blog, even though my mom (I love you mom) might whisper, "I told you so..."

I believe those frustrations are very common to those trying-to-conceive. I send baby dust and love, lots and lots of love, to everyone with family dreams they are trying to fulfill. Whether it takes 3 months or 3 years, it's hard and it's heavy and it breaks the heart--month after month after month.

I also quit my job! Retail was the pits for me, excepting the peeps I worked with. It didn't make much sense to be gone for as long as I was and bring in as little as I did. I thank the sweet heavens my husband agrees. So now I got this whole new journey in front of me. I plan to use this time wisely, before I meet the little dude. I've been writing all day almost every day. It's bliss.

I apologize this whole blog is so update-y. I promise to get back to better writing as I come here more often. After being away for awhile and then reading up on those blogs, I realize how much I miss it! How cathartic it is. Now I'm refreshed, I'm renewed, I'm ready for baby bloggin ;-)! (I think I'm kidding when I say that...)

Anyway, here's my first belly picture. You can see a bit of a bump there. I'm pretty sure my growing uterus' goal was to get me to forget about the ol' flat tum as quickly as possible. Congrats uterus. You win.

Is it considered lewd to post these? I think when you're pregnant you can get away with all sorts of quasi-porn.