Flutters and Fluffies

Tomorrow, I'm 15 weeks pregnant. Whoa. That's a trippy thought. That means only 25 weeks to go before Baby Cowan is scheduled to make their grand debut - I really, really hope I don't go too far past my due date. The baby is now about 4 inches long, according to BabyCenter and the books I've bought, so it's around the size of of a large apple or my iPhone. But the first trimester is done, done, DONE and I've been off Zofran for two days with no barfing....Although I do cart the prescription bottle around with me in my purse, JUST in case.

It's a challenge being a plus-sized pregnant woman, since I already had quite the chubby belly - I'm not proud of it, but it's true, so there it is - it's a little harder to tell if I'm showing or not. I'm definitely not fitting into my regular jeans anymore, even though I haven't gained any actual weight according to the doctor, hurrah! These Old Navy elastic-waist maternity jeans have been a total lifesaver, and so totally comfortable I may never go back to normal pants once The Child is born. If you press on my stomach right below my belly button, it's hard as a rock underneath the flab. Very cool. I think over the last week, I've started to "pop" just a little bit, and this picture proves it.... But at other times, I think I just look "fluffy."

The Results Are In!

Last night, Dave took me out to dinner at Osteria Mozza, Mario Batali's insanely overpriced-but-insanely tasty Italian restaurant. Because it was my birthday dinner, two days early, and we have a "You can go hog wild at restaurants on your birthday, screw the cost," rule in our little family, I got to order an appetizer, pasta, main course AND dessert instead of caving to Dave's usual we-must-split-everything-or-we-will-have-to-go-on-welfare-this-is-so-expensive ethos. Fortunately, Osteria Mozza being an expensive restaurant, the portions are small, so it really wasn't as much food as one might think it was. I do wish I'd chosen another entree than the duck with pear mostarda, though.... Too salty for me. Oh well. My fault.

Anyways, over dinner, I Broached the Subject of Finding Out What Gender This Baby Is. Dave had consumed a full glass of wine by this point, and was starting in on glass #2, so I knew I'd get an honest answer out of him. For most people, drink makes their brain go pfffffft and the thoughts go in fifty different directions. For Dave, it has the opposite effect. He gets very focused and can hold interesting discourses/give you detailed, comprehensible directions to places he's never been after looking at a map once.

"Okay, honey. Question: If I had never, ever told you I wanted to find out the gender, and I asked you if you wanted to know, what would you say?" I asked, holding a forkful of prosciutto di Parma & fresh mozzarella di bufalo aloft. (YUM)

Shim, shimminy, shim shimminy, shim, shim, sheroo: The Great Gender Vote

(For those not in the know, "shim" is pregnancy shorthand for she/him. It also sounds like "shiv", which I find amusing, and which a friend said is probably someone's prison name: Shim the Shiv.)

Today, I am 14 weeks pregnant. This means that in about 6 weeks, if we so choose, we will be able to try and find out our baby's gender via ultrasound. Hot-button topic, this. Seriously. People could care less whether you're a Republican or Democrat, but if you tell them you've decided to find out the gender, you're either totally normal (people of my generation, for whom gender reveals are normal bog standard occurrences) or a freakazoid from the Planet X (people of the "we didn't have ultrasounds a) because they weren't invented yet or b) unless they thought there was something seriously wrong and our baby had a tail & horns" generation).

"You're pregnant? Congrats! Are you going to find out?" Yes, I want to know. "WHAT? WHY DON'T YOU WANT THE SURPRISE?? YOU'RE GOING TO BE A BAD MOTHER, YOU HUSSY!"

Hurrrrrrrrrk!

Let me preface this post by saying: If you have a sensitive stomach, turn back now. Go look at cute pictures of fuzzy widdwe anmnimals doing anerable things.

The rest of you, join me after the jump.

How We Found Out

I'd had a "feeling" for about two weeks that I was pregnant, but all the tests I'd taken had come back negative. Then, David's beloved grandmother, Nana, passed away, and he had to head back to Minnesota for the funeral before meeting me in San Francisco for a pre-planned weeklong vacation that we couldn't cancel. I had a terrible sinus infection & tracheal bronchitis for the first four days of our vacation that necessitated a trip to a random San Fran doctor + antibiotics and prednisone. Basically, instead of being on vacation, I was cooped up in a hotel room blowing my nose every three minutes and sleeping. Not so fun.

When I could finally walk & sort of talk again, we were due to meet a friend & her fiance for tapas on Russian Hill. I decided to take another home pregnancy test so I'd know whether or not I could have a glass of sangria. It came back negative (cue the feelings of disappointment) and so I had one glass of (very very diluted, not strong at all) sangria. The next day, we left for Napa Valley, and something pinged in my brain to say, "Why don't you offer to do all the driving and not drink? Just in case." So, that's what I did.

Name Game

Scene: We're browsing the pregnancy & childcare books at Barnes & Noble at The Grove. Having recently discovered two of my top boy names are in the current top 100 list (gah, no, thanks), I pull a Baby Names Bible from the shelf & go sit down at the B&N Starbucks. Dave joins me & immediately steals my phone to start playing Angry Birds. I decide to see if he's listening to me at all.

So It Begins.

If you're reading this blog, you probably know us already. If you don't, then you're a blog stalker and after my own heart - I do the same thing. Enjoy.

We're Dave and Janet: We've been together since 2003, married since January 2006, have two evil cats, and are now expecting our first child (aka "The Child/Bebeh/Platypus/etc" until we know if it is a Him or a Her) in October. How do we feel about this? Excited and terrified in equal measures, and fully expecting this child to be spoiled rotten by their two sets of eager, first-time grandparents.