I have found the weirdest thing.  You know when you get a fountain drink and the lid has those little “bubbles” that you can push down to indicate whether it is diet or something else?  And you know how sometimes you get that one that keeps popping out?  No matter how many times you push it down, it just keeps popping out!  Well, apparently, a pregnant woman’s belly button is a lot like that.  I was sitting around the house the other night, and I decided to check out my belly button (don’t judge. . . this is my life, you’re just a spectator).  I was fascinated to find that it’s getting really shallow.  Suddenly, I had this unexplainable desire to push on it (don’t forget, still MY life).  Well, it did something that I totally wasn’t expecting.  It pushed in! (like the little button on the top of a soda. . . get the correlation now??)  Of course, when I let go, it popped right out.  As you can imagine, I was shocked, so I immediately told Kylie, “Oh my gosh!!  You gotta try this!”  (come on, you can’t keep something like that to yourself. . . it would be rude, or something)  Being a good daughter, and quite inquisitive anyway, she obliged.  Then, she and I took turns pushing on my belly button.  I love my husband dearly, so I just couldn’t leave him out of the “magic of the moment”.  He was apprehensive but tried it anyway.  He immediately jumped back and looked at me like he had been struck with the realization that he had married a circus freak.  But we all know that “train wreck” theory, so he tried it again.  On his second attempt, he noticed that there is a hole behind it in the muscle.  Of course, Kylie and I had to get in on that action.  I think we were all completely entertained by my belly button for a good 15 minutes.  Just another exciting night at the Brandon home. 

Keep in mind I am completely grossed out by anything remotely related to feet, but strangely enough, I find myself inviting people to stick their finger in my belly button.  I have been dreading the day that a perfect stranger walks up to me and wants to rub my belly (the lady that works in the cafeteria at our corporate office didn’t really count).  Now, I can’t wait!  My response will be, “I’m really not comfortable with that. . . but here, check out my belly button!”

Well, to catch you guys up, we got the results from our alpha-fetoprotein test.  This test is the one that gives some indicators about things like spinal bifida, Down ‘s syndrome, and other abnormalities.  We were a little leery about the test because it has a high false-positive rate (at least I was leery, Johnathan doesn’t sweat much of anything. . . I worry enough for us both).  But the results were good.  They reported no abnormalities.  The doctor said they marked my age abnormal, but I think they’re crazy.  My age is perfectly normal, so we’re good.  ;)

Now, for the other part.  I have been so uncomfortable for weeks now.  My ribs are killing me.  It started off just in front on the right side.  It seems that they start having spasms or something.  Typically, I can sort of massage it out and go on with life.  Yes, I understand that this is part of pregnancy, but (as a “friend” of mine so eloquently put it) I still have a long way to be this uncomfortable.  The problem is that for the last week or so, the pain has started migrating around to my right side and into my back.  My doctor is worried about my gall bladder.  I have to stay away from really fatty foods (there goes McDonalds’s and Taco Bell. . . but I gained 6 pounds in the last 4 weeks so that’s probably not such a bad thing).  If I’m going to eat a steak, it needs to be a filet (pretty big sacrifice, but I think I’ll manage).  But the worst part is that I have to eat 2 Tums every 2 hours between meals (of course, I have a meal every 2 hours so it gets a little tricky).  It has only been a couple of days so I’m not gagging on them yet, but the anticipation is killing me.  However, I am back at work today with my “stash” so I have found that candy Valentine’s hearts wash them down pretty well.  ;)  To be honest, I think it’s muscular (my mom says it’s twins), but I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.

We get to have our first glimpse of Tater on Wednesday.  I’m so excited.  I hope he/she is doing something really cool like sucking his/her thumb.  That would be fun.  Judging by my reaction to hearing the heartbeat for the first time (not to mention my current emotional state) I’m planning to take lots of tissue.   We are going to see our baby for the first time (oh, wait. . . I need a tissue now).  Big news of the day: Johnathan has been given “permission” to purchase a VHS/DVD recorder (since he rarely posts, I figured I should tell).  That means that we will be able to post the footage from the ultrasound.  Pretty exciting, huh?  (A baby and an electronic – I’m expecting my “wife of the year” award pretty soon.)

So the tally for ultrasounds this week is two, one for baby and one for gall bladder.  Personally, I’m more looking forward to the first one. 

When we were looking at buying houses, we prayed for guidance.  When God blessed us with this wonderful home, we promised to use it to His glory and open our doors to others. . . .but did that include teenagers??  For Super Bowl Sunday, we had 47 teenagers and 9 adults in our house (I’ll save you the calculation. . . that’s a total of 56 people).  In church that morning, one of the girls asked me if I was excited about having them all over.  Not exactly.  “Anxious” was the word of the day. 

They started showing up around 4:30 (since when did teenagers become punctual?).  There is a standard protocol for youth group parties – boys bring chips and drinks, girls bring baked goods.  So for the next 30 minutes, teenagers and food poured through our front door.  The eating commenced immediately and so began my eternal saga of picking food off the floor.  (My mantra for the night was “I’m too uptight for this.”  Kylie kept saying, “I know.”)  At one point, there was a minor struggle over a ponytail holder (don’t ask) and a poor, unfortunate cookie with icing was caught in the crossfire.  (Ummm. . . no, I did not clean that up.  The perpetrator was assigned community service for the crime.)

The night progressed rather smoothly, with only an occasional exciting moment like me getting chased around the house with finger that had been up a guy’s nose (to defend my honor, Johnathan held him while I carried out the just sentence of a “wet willy”).  But then, as if from nowhere, came the words that still ring in my ears, “Little Johnny is puking downstairs” (the name has been changed to protect the innocent).  Poor kid.  Poor bathroom.  To this day, we are still confused as to how he completely missed the toilet (to those that have never been to our house, the half bath downstairs is just big enough for the sink and the toilet).  He was still sitting in there on the floor, but the light was off.  I stuck my head in to see if he was okay and realized the carnage that once was our half bathroom.  I also realized that there was no way on God’s green earth that I could clean that up.  So Kylie, beautiful Kylie, wonderful Kylie, best daughter in the world Kylie, jumped right in and helped him (actually, I think she did more than he did).  Within about 15 minutes, the puke was gone. . . even the smell (note to self: Clorox Disinfecting Wipes, lemon scent. . . buy stock).  And the party rocked on.  Once the game was over, Andy gave instructions and clean up began.  They picked up all the trash, and then they all just disappeared.  It was actually very strange how quickly they were all gone.  But as much as I love them, I wasn’t complaining.

Once the house was empty, I realized that my darling husband had cleaned up the kitchen and the dining room.  He even did a quick sweep of the floors.  God has richly blessed me with a wonderful family that not only loves me in spite of my OCD, but also helps relieve the stress by taking care of those things that might make me flip out…but then again, they could just be really selfish and just don’t want to hear me complain…I’ll go with the first scenario (hey, this is MY neurotic condition, I get to choose).

So the tally on the night was a couple of tiny spots of chocolate on the carpet in the bonus room and our bedroom, smashed brownie at the bottom of the stairs, chocolate on the wall outside of Kylie’s room and a bathroom in need of a paint job.  And I’m still finding heart-shaped sprinkles, but I figure Cole will eventually get all of them (we’ve changed his name to “Hoover”).  Now for the big question, will I agree to it again next year?  Yes, I believe I will.  However. . . puking, brownies and anything with sprinkles are outlawed.

Tater is getting much more active these days.  I have read so much about how it feels and that “it’s hard to distinguish from gas”.  So I have devised a method.  If I feel movement in the front below the belly button, it is deemed as being baby.  If it is anywhere else, it is considered “supporting systems”.  That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. 

I have really only started noticing it more in the last few days.  We went to visit Johnathan’s Maw over the weekend.  One night, we were sitting in bed reading, and I felt something.  I tried to be very still so I could really concentrate, but my ADD kicked in and all I could pay attention to was my own heart beating in my ears (have I told you that if I stare at a blank wall I can see my heartbeat in my eyes?…crazy). 

Monday, during small group, I noticed it right after I ate and got settled into a comfy recliner.  I think it’s really neat because I am very aware of this little baby while everyone around me is oblivious.  Way cool!  Later that night, when we got into bed, I told Johnathan that it was moving.  He immediately put his hand on my belly.  He couldn’t feel anything so he pressed hard on the left side.  Then, I could feel it moving on the right so he tried over there.  Then, I could feel it moving on the left.  (Tater isn’t even born yet and already knows who to avoid.)  Then, he decided to press really hard on my entire belly.  I thought he was going to mash the pee out of me.  He said he could feel “stuff” but he wasn’t sure if it was gas or what.  But it was in the front, below the belly button so we all know what that means.

This is a notice to the free world. . . at least to those that live in our area. . . Kylie now has her license!  Now, granted, it’s only a level 1 so she can’t have more than one passenger (I assume so she can’t take too many people down with her at a time), and she can’t drive after 11:00 pm.  So if you can minimize your road time to the hours between 11:00 pm and 6:00 am, you’ll increase your odds.  ;)  Of course, I’m kidding.  She does just well. . . as long as someone reads the signs for her.  ;)

But I just have to tell you the absurdity that is the DMV.  A couple of weeks ago, it came to my attention that her 6 months were up, and it was time to take her to get her license.  It seems to be a rather neat process.  You can go online and schedule an appointment.  They even show you what times are available for each testing station.  Because I was being proactive, there were plenty of time slots to choose from, so I picked one that was convenient and didn’t conflict with anything on my calendar.  1/23 at 3:30.  Perfect.  They even ask for a contact number in case they need to cancel or something. . . emphasis on “something”.  On the confirmation, they print the address (this will be important later), the time of your appointment and instructions that tell you to be there 15 minutes early.  You are considered late at 6 minutes past your appointment time. 

Everything was going well.  I left work early, picked her up at school and proceeded on to the DMV with plenty of time to spare.  We arrived at the testing station 10 minutes before our appointment (those that know me well will be impressed).  We were pleasantly surprised at the lack of cars in the parking lot (in hindsight, that should have been the first clue that something was amiss. . . emphasis on “something”).  With confirmation in hand, we walked to the door only to find a sign saying they had moved.  Brilliant.  A “pleasant” woman met us at the door and informed us they were having a meeting (whoever “they” were).  At least she was helpful enough to give us directions to the new address because I have yet to install high-speed internet service in my car, which leaves MapQuest to be of little assistance.  I raised my handy little confirmation and opened my mouth to express my extreme displeasure (surely they knew 2 weeks ago that they were moving!!), but resistance was futile, and time was wasting.  We frantically hopped back into the car, realizing that in less than 15 minutes we would be considered late for our appointment.  I referred to the helpful confirmation that I had printed from the internet. . . no phone number (keep in mind, they had mine. . . too much to ask, I guess).  Two calls to 411 finally got me the correct contact information.  The woman was short but nice and just told us to come on to the new office.  I mellowed a bit at that point. 

When we walked in the front door of the nice new facility, I saw a big waiting room to the right and people standing in line behind a sign that said “Please wait here for a number.”  (Yes, read it again if you need to.)  There was a line to get a number.  However, there was no sign telling you what to do if you had an appointment.  Kylie stood in line while I took a couple of minutes to get the attention of someone behind the counter.  I asked what I believed to be an appropriate question, “Where do we go if we have an appointment for a driving test?”  To my dismay, I was told to stand in line and, they would give me a number.  (One can only assume that’s why they tell you to be there 15 minutes early.)  Approximately 10 minutes later, Johnathan calls.  The conversation went something like this:

“What are you doing?”
“Standing in line for a number.”
 “Standing in line for a number?”
 “Yep.”
 “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
 “How long have you been waiting for a number?”
“About 10 minutes.”
 “Just to get a number?”
 “Yep.”
 “I thought you had an appointment.”
 “Yep.”
 “And you still have to stand in line for a number?”
“I am as amazed at the absurdity as you.”

At 4:50, we finally left with driver’s license in hand.  The good news is next time, she can drive herself.

I felt it!!  I was sitting in traffic about to get on the interstate this morning (at 7:24 am to be precise).  I had just called Lindsey to see how Josh was doing (her youngest has strep throat).  We had only been on the phone for about 30 seconds when I felt this little pop in my lower belly where we usually find the heartbeat.  Actually, I felt a couple of them.  So I stopped mid-sentence and said, “I think I just felt Tater move!!”  I described it, and Lindsey said, “Yep, that’s it!”  (I’m pretty confident in her assessment. . . she’s had 3.)  Of course, I had to hang up and call Johnathan immediately.  He can’t feel it yet, but he should at least get to share in the excitement.  ;)

I guess I could have included this with the “Random Thoughts” post, but they just didn’t really go together.

We had a nice long weekend (we were off for Martin Luther King Day).  So we went baby shopping on Saturday.  That was fun (please note the sarcasm).  I was so overwhelmed.  First, I felt out of place because all the pregnant women in there were much more pregnant than me.  Then, there was just so much stuff.  All the cribs started running together.  At one point we sat down and I just poured out how stressed I was.  Johnathan kept telling me to get over it (lot of help that was) so, despite his “efforts”, I just got more frustrated.  Then, he finally suggested we take a piece of paper around and start writing down what we liked.  Well, when we asked for a piece of paper, the woman took that as a cue to start helping us.  I was less than thrilled with that.  The last thing I needed was some pushy sales person that probably worked on commission.  But she was so helpful.  It was great.  She even made me feel better about being there because she started telling us how long it took for beds to come in (some took 6-8 weeks).  We said that was fine because we weren’t due until July.  She commended us for being on top of things.  Most people come in and need something “now”.  So now we have some ideas.  Then, we went to Target and got more ideas.  Baby stuff is expensive.  I guess they kind of have you over a barrel because you need it.

To answer your question, no, we didn’t pick anything.  However, we are now aware of the fact that we have completely different tastes.  ;)

Hee hee!  I’m wearing my first completely maternity outfit today (even down to my compression pantyhose).  For the first time, I feel like I actually look pregnant rather than just looking like I need to back away from the table a few times.  Every once in a while, I will catch myself in the bathroom mirror when I’m changing clothes, and I have to stop and kind of hug my belly.  This has to be the only time in my life that I will actually be excited about having a big, ole belly.  I can’t wait until I’m huge. . . although I’m starting to wonder how I will put on socks much less those compression pantyhose.

New thing: I’m hungry a lot, but I can’t eat much at one time.  I went to the grocery store last night and bought a bunch of stuff.  My office now looks like the snack aisle at Kroger.  ;) 

Gosh my belly itches. . . .

Okay, I’m venting today.  To all you mothers who say, “Oh, I loved being pregnant”, I say, “Whatever.”  Now, granted, I have yet to experience quickening (which I am really looking forward to).  And I have a way to go before I get a kick in the ribs or bladder (looking forward to, but maybe a little less than the “flutters”).  So far, the only things I can boast are nausea, frequent trips to the bathroom, fatigue, inability to sleep (helps tons with the fatigue), stuffy nose, sore tailbone, headaches, back pain, sharp abdominal pains (absolutely normal. . . do not panic, Dad) and things I can’t mention in mixed company.  Do not get me wrong.  I am not disappointed in being pregnant.  I am absolutely overjoyed.  And I still believe that this is the greatest miracle in the whole entire world.  And I haven’t met a symptom that would keep me from doing this again (however labor, delivery….terrible twos and the teenage years come to mind).  I know it is all worth it.  I’m just not having fun yet.  Yes, I know I will eat these words later (not even saying probably).  I’m just ready for the “good stuff”.  (Okay, so I’m impatient.  Most of you already knew that.)

We hit 15 weeks yesterday.  So in about 1 week, hopefully, I will feel my first flutter.  But I will admit that while I’m writing this I’m trying to be very still and quiet to see if I feel anything.  That is the thing I’m looking forward to the most (surprisingly more than labor).  Once Tater is big enough, others will be able to feel or see kicks.  But quickening will be like “our little secret”.  Nobody will be aware of it but me and Tater.  Our first bonding experience.  That, to me, sounds so cool.  Yes, I will let you know as soon as it happens. . . that’s when I’ll eat the words from my first paragraph.  ;)

Okay, here’s a quick update for you curious folks.  We went to the doctor yesterday.  Tater’s heartbeat is 156 bpm.  Now, for those of you who prescribe to old wives tales, I have read it’s a fallacy that you can tell the sex by the heartbeat. . . but if you want to place side bets, knock yourself out.  ;)   

Now, for those of you who fussed at me about my concern over gaining too much weight, I gained 7 pounds since the last visit. . . which was only 4 weeks ago.  My total gain is only 8 pounds, so in the grand scheme of things, I’m doing well.  However, this week it’s Subway instead of Taco Bell and McDonald’s.

I have to go to the hospital to have blood drawn for my alpha-fetoprotein test.  This will tell us if Tater is at an increased risk of having certain birth defects and genetic abnormalities.  I will go on 2/2 or 2/3.  Then, we have an appointment the next week to get those results.  Extra prayers would be greatly appreciated.  Thanks.

We are scheduled for our ultrasound on Valentine’s Day.  (I know. . . .how fun!)  Hopefully, we will somehow be able to post a picture on here.  We’ll see.  No, we have not changed our minds about finding out if Tater is a he or a she.  The nurse told us to make sure we tell the technician about our decision, and they won’t even write it on the results.  That means that later on if we change our minds and want to know, they won’t be able to tell us.

Big things on our list right now are discussing names and decorating the nursery.  Ugh  We’ll keep you posted.