For Your Amusement

Only Canadian kids could possibly be THIS bored.

Okay, Seriously...

....WHERE is the OFF BUTTON on this Thing?!?!?!?!?

Last night was HORRIBLE! We fed at 11:30, she was up at midnight. Then we fed three more times and walked and rocked and nothing. Wide awake was she. At 4am, she finally decided to sleep. A bit.

Exhausted really does not begin to describe this, but you know me - there's a funny moment in there somewhere, so, may I present "Midnight: A Conversation":

Husband to Little Sasquatch, Little Octopus, or the Super Pooper (we're tossing around ideas here): Hey You, it's time for bed. Are you all ready for sleep?

LS, LO, or SP responds with a sigh and holds up one hand with her index finger pointing, followed by the loudest excrement-producing sound imaginable.

Bren (laughing like an idiot and actually slapping her knee): Hah! That was great! Is there an onomatopoeia for that?

Evil look from Husband.

Bren: No really, how would you spell that sound?

The Next 007

So without going into too much detail, here’s the scoop. My water broke at 3:30 on Saturday (today is the actual due date you’ll notice). I was feeling just fine so we finished setting up the nursery and ate a piece of our rhubarb pie (look, I'm Menno and it was fresh out of the oven). We left for the hospital just after 5 and that's when the first contraction started. I had only been at 2 1/2 cm on Friday afternoon and by 7pm on Saturday I was at 6. By 9, I was at 9 1/2, so I pushed for an hour (So in explanation of the post title: It. Is. HELL. And I am convinced I have now endured enough screaming and torture to at least audition to be the next 007 - oi vey! Seriously, I think the whole block probably heard me – at one point we figured maybe I was scaring her and that’s why through about six contractions, only half her head was out…) and then there she was.

Now here’s the funny story: on Friday at the clinic, we saw Laura & Aaron, the couple from our childbirth ed class who were due exactly a week after us. Laura said the doctor told her if she didn't go into labour on Friday night, she should come in first thing Saturday morning and they would get things started. (I think I posted about that already and yes, I was jealous.) So on Saturday morning, I made them a congratulations card and we were going to just leave it on the windshield of their car. Nope. Our delivery nurse gave it to them instead - they were right across the hall in the birthing wing. :) They ended up having a girl too, so our girls were mere ounces apart, a quarter of an inch apart, and about two hours and technically one date apart and got to be nursery-mates for a couple days. Very fun.

And without further adieu, here she is:

Anja Helena Leanne J.
18 June 07
10:02pm
7lbs, 19 1/4 inches

Oh, and here's the name explanation:

Anja - It's Russian and it means gracious and merciful.
Helena - After Bren's Grama. (Greek for 'light')
Leanne - after five of the most incredible women I know because,
conveniently enough, you all have either Leigh or Anne or Leanne as a middle name.
So, Chandra Anne, Tamra Leanne, Kara Anne, Erin Leigh, and Lindsay E. Anne - thank you for the role you've played in shaping me into the woman I am (and I mean that in the least cliched way possible)!
I love you!

And can I just say: she has the best Dad EVER.

A Funny Thing Just Happened....

So, um, yeah....my water just broke. Thought I should let you all know.

Very ironic since about a week ago I told Husband: 'You just wait. We'll just get the crib set up and she'll come.'

We just finished the crib before lunch.

And I just pulled my rhubarb pie out of the oven. (Don't worry, I called the Midwife and she said I could have a piece before I go to the hospital!)

Look Fast!

These might just self-destruct in 24 hours so catch 'em while you can....

Today's appointment showed hardly any change from last week; only minimal progression. On the plus-side (for somebody else!), one of the girls from our childbirth ed class who WAS due exactly a week after me, gets to have her baby tomorrow if it doesn't come tonight. *sigh*

Seriously though: GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!!!!!
(So do I look like how you pictured me?)

In Case You're Still Wondering

Yeah, in case there's anybody out there still checking my blog for new posts....my apologies for being such a slacker. I have been feeling quite rotten the last couple weeks and have just not felt like posting anything since it would all be complaints anyway.

The kid is still where she's been for the past nine months. I know she doesn't fit, she must know she doesn't fit, but young brains obviously can't put 2 and 2 together yet. In the meantime, her nursery is almost finished. Husband has a wee bit of painting left on the dresser and then we can move in the carpet and the rest of the furniture.

We went for a baby shopping trip today. We thought since we're down to 6 days (!!!), we should commence with buying all the wipes and creams and pads, etc that we might need in the next little while, along with a good supply of shampoo and toilet paper. We also bought our very first diaper pail. Oh boy! Talk. About. Excitement. (Seriously though, it's a great colour. If I was feeling ambitious, I'd even post a picture for you. But I'm not.)

In other news, we're house/cat-watching for one of Husband's coworkers. After a 2-3 day absence, her cat, which she assured us would come back in the evening if let out for the day, FINALLY came back late last night. And one of our cats who was lost in our own house since yesterday afternoon was finally discovered this morning. Husband figured if she could've been crossing her legs doing a potty-dance she would've been. She headed straight for the cat box when she was released.

Really though, if we can lose one of our own cats in our own house, what does this bode for our future children???

You Had to Know This Was Coming

A friend recently commented that she couldn't believe I hadn't been complaining more about my pregnancy on my blog. Well, the time has come: I'm nauseous, tired, sore, and so DONE with this business of baby-growing and if in the next few weeks (yes, I said few - know why? Because last Friday, the Midwife told me it'll be "at least another four weeks." FOUR FREAKING WEEKS!) you find my blog riddled with various gestational complaints, be ye not surprised. It doesn't mean there isn't other stuff going on in our lives, it just means I'm unable to focus on anything else. Argh!

Some moms-to-be write wee letters to their impending arrivals, expressing their love and excitement and all sorts of other sap. I have chosen to include mine here:

An Open Note to the Mystery Baby:

For 8 months and 2 weeks now, you have been nestled in the abyss that is my uterus. Whilst you have been busy growing (hopefully) copious amounts of brown hair and (hopefully) blue eyes, along with developing several weird idiosyncrasies and personality traits (undoubtedly inherited from your father), it has become exceedingly apparent that you are running out of room. So don't take this the wrong way because we like you and all, but

GET. OUT. NOW.

Sincerely with love,
Mum & Dad

A Conversation

This is a conversation that occurred between me and Husband last night (needless to say, rather close to bedtime):

Bren: Um, what are you doing? Why are you smelling my pant-leg?

Husband: Because it smells good.

Bren (thinking it's probably because it smells like nice clean laundry): What does it smell like?

Husband: I can't quite place it. Something from a birthday party a long time ago. Maybe when I was 10.

Bren: Stop smelling my pants.

Husband: But they smell good.

Bren: I'm blogging about this.

Husband: Fine. *sniff, sniff*

Oops, I Forgot

But what else is new?

I forgot to tag anyone with the 8 Random Things meme. So, I'm tagging Erin over at Whitekirk, even though I realize they just moved and she's probably swamped with unpacking and all that, this could be an appropriate break. I'm also tagging Beck. She's probably done this meme a bunch of times already, but that's what makes it more interesting. Now she has to dig a little deeper to write things she hasn't written before. Hah!

Cyberspace, You Came This Close!

We keep making plans to finally take some pictures of my as-of-late ever-expanding belly (seriously, this kid took off in Month 8!), but then we keep forgetting. We were all set to actually take pictures on Sunday afternoon when I developed (this was not intentional, I promise) a really nasty itchy rash on my face. So no pictures for you until it's completely gone! Ugh! So you came this close to having your eyes assaulted by pregnancy photos!

In other news, I finally have something to blog about because Brenda (my bloggosphere twin! Exactly the same birthday and she and her Husband just had a baby girl in March!) was kind enough to tag me with the '8 Random Facts About Me' meme. I'm not sure I can compete with her divulging information about her road rage, but I'll see what I can do.

8 Random Facts About Me*:

1) The BBC version of Pride & Prejudice is coming with us to the hospital when labour hits. I like it that much. I'm not saying I'll be entirely focused on it at all, but as background noise and hilarity, it'll carry me through almost six hours, right? Plus, since I've seen it about....oh I think I'm pushing 20 times, I don't need to pay perfect attention anyway.

2) I've owned an MP3 player since February and I've never used it once. For all the technical savvy I possess, I cannot for the life of me figure out how to work this dang thing!

3) If I could spend my time owning and running a tea shop, I'd be all over that, but for now, that doesn't seem to be in my immediate future.

4) I don't know why, but I'm super anal about this: do not stand on a freshly laundered bathmat in anything other than bare feet! It's just not right!

5) Hmm...where's my soapbox? Oh, good, there it is. Just a second, let me get up there. Okay. So. I'll keep this short. While I agree that the environment is a going concern these days, I am so sick of the environmental movement. I am sick of turning on the TV or the radio or grabbing a magazine or newspaper and 7 out of 10 articles are all about 'global warming' and carbon emissions and how dastardly incandescent light bulbs are. You know what's dastardly? That there are millions of CHILDREN all over the world (seriously, check out your own backyard) who are living in poverty. They're hungry, their health is horrible, and they go to sleep one night not knowing where they'll sleep the next night. They live in refugee camps or homeless shelters. They own the clothes on their backs and nothing else. I find it unbelievably irritating that so many celebrities and the media overlook PEOPLE in favour of the PLANET. It's convenient. You can pass yourself off as a globally-conscious 'green' person without having to actually get your hands dirty caring about SOULS.
As a family who will in three weeks, with the arrival of our first child, officially fall into the 'low-income' bracket, we often feel rather impotent to do anything about poverty in our community. But can we sacrifice a few of those extra sweaters in our collection, or buy even one extra box of spaghetti or one extra bottle of shampoo to help out someone even worse off? You bet! I would rather rest peacefully knowing that one kid got some supper today than knowing that I saved three cents on my hydro bill because I switched to a compact fluorescent bulb.

6) This is definitely not a little-known fact about me, but I love U2! I was first introduced in the late 80s and I haven't gone back since. They're Irish, they're witty, their socially conscious, and even though Bono is pushing 50, he can still sing your socks off!

7) I love lemon**! Pretty much anything lemon, I'm all over it! I am rather picky though that lemon has to be the dominant flavour and the overall flavour should be sour, not sweet.

8) Yes, this is retarded, but if I could pick the one thing I miss most about life in WA, I would pick my car. Oh my little Honda, how I loved you. You were so good to me. Sometimes, I dream about you....we're cruising down the highway, U2 is playing, and it doesn't even matter where we're going, we're just together. *sigh*

*Not guaranteed to be interesting, exciting...or even things that nobody knows about me.
**This includes the giant lemon that accompanied U2 on the Popmart Tour. In fact one night they had to make their grand entrance through the Emergency Escape Hatch because the main door malfunctioned.

In a Slump

So I'm having a blogging slump. I'm reading other blogs, leaving the occasional comment, but I just don't have much to write about these days, other than taking up valuable space on the internets complaining about my present level of discomfort.

I should also say, that last week, I succumbed and joined the Evil Time-Sucker that is Facebook. Addictive? Yes. Fabulous? Yes, quite! I was skeptical because I didn't really understand how it functions, but now that I'm on it, it's great! I've already reconnected with six people (and counting) I haven't talked to for at least 5 or more years! But what does that mean? Does that mean I'm now obliged to communicate with them regularly? And what qualifies as regular? And how long is this phenomenon going to go on? Will we stay in touch from now until eternity? Will we still care five years from now? Will Facebook even exist five years from now? Regardless. It's been an intriguing discovery. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Presently, it's lunchtime, or something like that. Probably time to put more laundry in the dryer.

Oh and just so you don't feel completely ripped off by this lame-o post, check out this hilarious story of Labour & Delivery I read last night.

We Blinked So of Course, We Missed It

Missed what, you ask? The perfect sunrise? The Sasquatch? The "Biggest Ever" sale at JC Penney? (Silly, those happen every Saturday!) No,

WE MISSED SUMMER!

You'll recall about a week ago I was singing the praises of spring in Northern Maine and rejoicing in the 20C+ weather (I guess I should've sung those praises a little louder over the internets because I can't even find a post where I say enough to warrant putting a link right here, but trust me, it was PERFECT and WARM). We were all excited about walking down to the Dairy Bar for ice cream on a 'hot' summer night, sitting on the porch in our lawn chairs swatting at mosquitoes the size of grapefruits. Alas, it came and went. It's all over. The trees will be dormant by week's end, no doubt, because this morning, there was this:

That's right. Snow (please note today's date on your nearest calendar). So you see here all you Global-Warming Proselytizing Jerks! That's right! David Suzuki, you get your ass over here! And bring your friends: Al Gore, Peter Mansbridge, Wendy Mesley (Dianna Swain and Ian Hannomansing - you're safe! We like the cut of your jib), and your countless other expert and professional friends! Get 'em over here and line 'em up because I'm lacing up my football cleats.

That's right, just like that. I'm not even going to use a blindfold on any of you. Just line up, because my pregnant self is going to go all Bruce Lee on your shins! And then you turn around very slowly (this ain't no Hokey-Pokey, Al, so quit giggling like a school girl), and I'll kick 'em from behind! What's that Mansy? You're too old for this? Well, if you'd been following David's diet plan and "Health Regimen for Life in This Global Warming-Forsaken Country" (TM), you'd be healthy as a horse, no doubt, so too little too late. Turn around, Mister!

Indeed, instead of picnics and barbeques, our thoughts now turn to Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas lists. At the top of mine:

1) A really warm bathrobe. And not one of those kind that barely covers your ass. We're talking Dumbledore-style here: floor-grazing, fur-lined, we'll skip the fancy hat.

2) A supply of heating oil like manna from heaven. Said supply should require about as much effort on my part as actual manna, so in fact, all I should have to do is wait quietly at the door so I can collect the bill when the oil delivery guy brings it over. The bill that says "Paid, by God." And then the delivery guy would say, "Oh, and we sampled some of the manna on your lawn. Good stuff!"
"No, Sir," I would reply, "that's snow."

Wednesday

So I haven't posted in a couple days. Things have been pretty uneventful around here. It's been cloudy and raining and Husband and I have felt very unmotivated to do anything. I haven't been feeling well - as much nausea as Trimester numero uno. Ugh. (Who knew I'd ever see the day when one wee fajita and two cucumber slices would be too much food?)

I've been sitting here this afternoon fighting the nausea and being horrified by recent pictures of old high school acquaintances on Facebook which I just joined today and I'm not sure I really want to be a part of. I'm also trying to eat a grilled cheese sandwich on homemade wheat bread with lactose-free cheese and a bowl of applesauce. It's slow going.

Oh, and did I mention it's supposed to snow this evening? What's that you say, Bren? Snow? On the 16th of May?

Yes. I feel a funk settling. Blah.

A Bowl of Thankyous and Tiramisu for Dessert

Hey? Do you like that (over there, on the side)? Kind of creepy isn't it? A cyberbaby floating in a bubble....

Some of you know how I've always prided myself (yes, yes, it comes BEFORE the fall, I know) on my lovely 'innie' belly button. Well I can officially see more of it now than ever before in my life (there's a little mole in there!). It's uncomfortable and unsightly, but when I cough, it pops out even more which we find amusing.

Thanks to all of you who left comments regarding co-sleeping and birth plans. A couple of you have emailed me copies of your birth plans which has been super-helpful! We haven't made any sort of 'decision' about co-sleeping, but it's been good to read about all these different experiences - husbands snoring and the like.

We're foregoing our planned trip to Saint John for my post-birthday celebration as I've been feeling rather strange the last couple days and Husband is up painting the nursery. We ARE, however, heading out for pizza and tiramisu tonight. Yum!

And Furthermore

I'm looking for opinions (Whoa! Really!? Bren! YOU are looking for opinions!?!?) about two things (for now). Please leave your opinion(s) on the following baby-related topics (hey, we're coming down to the wire here, it's time!) in the comments section.

1) Co-Sleeping. Did you try it? Like it? Love it? Hate it? Would you do it again? How long did you co-sleep? What did/does your husband think?

2) Birth Plans. Did you have one? Was it helpful? Was it followed? Laughed at? Burned? What would you change next time?

Also, if you read my blog and have one of your own, would you mind very much putting in a plug so I can borrow some of your readers for more opinions? I'd like to get as broad a spectrum of responses as possible. THANKS!

I Should Also Add...

So last Friday, I celebrated a birthday. As an old friend recently reminded me, 'now that we're 28, we can't hide behind the 'mid-20s' label anymore.' Ah, so true.

Husband was finally awake enough to remember to wish me Happy Birthday at breakfast. He also had brought me flowers a few days before. Anniversary/Birthday/Mother's Day flowers. See the picture - tulips are my FAVOURITE!!!

The day was cold and cloudy and it looked like it was going to snow so I wore my new flip flops in defiance. We are only just in the last couple days getting the weather I should've had for my birthday. Sunny and warm (24C yesterday)!

That morning, the Mystery Baby had her sixth ultrasound (lucky girl). The midwife said everything looks great. She's in the 50th percentile in everything which means she's average (except of course, in her intelligence, because we all know you can't measure intelligence with an ultrasound and we also all know that our Mystery Baby has above average intelligence. How do we know? We just know). But I scored an 8 of 8 on...something. I have no idea what, but I understand that's good. We also got a neat picture of her face. She's traded in her regular glasses for sunglasses and it looks hilarious. Then there was the profile picture. Oh no. Mary, the Midwife, said, "Don't worry. All parents are horrified when they first see the nose and lips sticking out like that but it never comes out that way." I'm not worried about the lips, but I know the Loewen/Hamm nose I got stuck with....poor child.

In the afternoon, I was feeling rather down about the whole birthday thing. I think after you graduate from high school or maybe college, fun birthdays are a thing of the past. It's like the world has deemed you a selfish person if you insist on celebrating your birthday by giving up chores for the day. You don't get fancy birthdays with sleepovers and fairy dust or pirates, just laundry to do and dinner to make and bathrooms to clean. Luckily (for both of us), Husband caught the hint and made dinner, which was fabulous! Our first barbeque of the season! Cilantro Turkey burgers - so good! He had also bought me a frozen chocolate cake for dessert. No McCain's Deep 'N' Delicious this time, but it was still chocolaty and fudgy and quite good.

Oh and I got a card that plays sounds! It's Goldie the Goldfish wishing me Happy Birthday and it's supposed to sound like bubbles only it sounds a little more like a turkey. So a kind of ho-hum birthday ended up pretty swell. This Saturday we're heading down to Saint John, NB to explore and celebrate (and go for high tea)!

Our Trip & Two Wishes

I 'promised' last week that I would fill you in on our anniversary trip, but now that I've gotten lazy and haven't posted in several days, I don't feel like it anymore. So I'll just tell you that we left on Thursday and got back on Monday night. We went to Vermont, visited the King Arthur Flour Company (a little disappointing in person), Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (a very disappointing tour, but the ice cream was good), a couple of breweries (no, I didn't imbibe; I was good, but we did share the most unbelievable Guinness brownie we could ever imagine from a hippie shop in Burlington!), and checked out the Vermont Maple Festival in St. Alban's, VT. Oh, and we had one very intimidating and accidental trip to Dartmouth College. Ooohhh....ivy league....

We also found some great deals shopping which always makes us happy and Husband fought one of his greatest self-admitted-hereditary-impulses and did not buy the North Face jacket he found on sale for $60, regular almost $400. Yes it looked good and it fit well and it was one quality jacket, but Husband doesn't need another jacket. Talk about a moment of Parsimonious-Wife-ly pride!

So, Vermont is beautiful. Burlington, in particular, was quite appealing to us. We did come back suffering from a bit of PHOWHTBBHN (that's Post-Holiday-Oh-We-Have-to-be-Back-Home-Now) Syndrome (similar in all respects to The-Grass-is-Always-Greener-On-the-Other-Side Syndrome). We had a slow, rather uneventful trip but it was relaxing and we had lots of sweet moments and a couple nights, Husband even fell asleep with his hand on my belly communing with the Mystery Baby. Perfect. And that's all I'll say about that.

Now for two wishes I'd love to grant for the pregnant population at large (pun intended):

1) King-sized beds for all! Talk about a let-down (again, pun intended) going from sleeping in all those king beds on holiday and then coming home to the 'measly' old Queen. You're on my SIDE. Move over! Yes, I really DO need another pillow! With a king-sized bed, you hardly know the other person is there! There's plenty of room for a growing pregnant belly AND all the pillows necessary to support it and if you have a husband with long arms (as I do), you don't have to miss out on any cuddling.

2) Expectant-Mother Parking or a temporary handicap parking permit. There were just so many times on our anniversary trip that I wanted to benefit from a closer parking space but so many times it didn't happen. At this point, I don't think the state of Maine has ever heard of Expectant Mother parking so I'll never even get to take advantage of it during this pregnancy. Bummer. It goes to show we should've been in Manitoba this whole time....

My Three-Stone Anniversary Ring*

*Otherwise known as "Sharing a Bit of My Sentimental Self, Two Posts in a Row and Putting Off Telling You About Our Anniversary Holiday Until Tomorrow"

When Husband and I went to pick out my engagement ring in July of 2001, he told me to choose whatever I wanted - "any size, any cost - it doesn't matter." I, in my Menno frugality, chose the 'middle-size diamond' in a ring style that had three size choices. I don't regret my choice because I still admire my ring, it's beautiful (though perhaps due for a cleaning). At the time of this ring choosing, Husband and I decided that since I was choosing a diamond solitaire for my engagement ring, he would hunt down or design the perfect three-stone ring for our fifth anniversary. Some people might think a fifth anniversary is a little soon to be reflecting on the past-present-future by way of a ring, but we thought it would be just right.

So here we are. We just celebrated our fifth anniversary last Friday and my right hand ring finger is still devoid of a three stone ring. Five years have come and gone and if/when the day comes that either one of us will ever be able to say "any size, any cost - it doesn't matter" again, that will be a sweet day indeed. I'm not missing a ring because my Husband forgot, we just couldn't afford it. But more importantly, I've come to the conclusion that as nice as a shiny new ring might be, I don't need a ring to remember why I married Husband five years ago, why I'm happy/grateful/content/lucky to be married to him now, and why I will still want to be married to him five years from now.

These past five years have not always been eventful or perfect. We've discovered a lot of things about each other that drive us crazy: Husband is capable but unwilling to get ready for bed in a decent amount of time every night; I am completely anal about standing on a freshly laundered bath mat with BARE FEET ONLY. Generally, I thrive on multi-tasking; Husband generally can't stand it.

We've also discovered that we are relatively boring people. We don't go out much, we hardly ever rent movies (we can't remember the last time we saw one in a theater). If we're getting together with close friends for dinner and games or going on a day or weekend trip somewhere, we're happy, but usually, we like to stay home.

When we were dating, I enjoyed Husband's sense of humour. Now that we're married, I've learned that he can be downright goofy and I love it! He likes to do silly dances (and recently did one on camera at work which I hope I will never have to see). He likes to laugh and be childlike. I can make anything into a song, which Husband enjoys (perhaps not so much the Getting Ready for Bed Song which includes the words 'oh, why must you be so slow/i can never really know'). And we both have a talent for animating our menagerie of stuffed animals (Boy, that Mr. Bear! He's got talent!).

There are a host of other discoveries about us and things I could share with you about why I love my Husband and why I love being married to him, but I already wrote my longest post ever last time and I have other things to do today. Suffice to say that I'm okay with not getting that ring. We have memories and sentiments that no ring can ever fully symbolize.

Year six is going to be FULL of changes and big events for us. We don't like where we're living, it has been a huge emotional and financial struggle, but we are learning to love each other better and more deeply. And when it comes to our marriage, we are happy. We are content. We are in love. And to the person who once told me that "your husband can never be your best friend" - I'd like to officially tell you - what a crock!

"She Likes...Horses...and Tomatoes"

Very recently, Catherine, Erin, and BubandPie all wrote posts about body image. I'm not to quick on the draw here, but I thought I would 'weigh in' with my two cents. That's right, two cents from the pudgy girl.

I started writing this post in my head over the weekend and even put a few thoughts on paper, but at the risk of it being the longest post ever in blogging history, I think I'll just go with whatever is in my head right now.

I've never been a 'little' person. I think at birth I was average, but nevermore after that. I'm not fat, certainly not obese, but I'm not skinny either. In my small elementary/junior high school, I was always the biggest girl in the class. That had it's advantages at certain times: believe it or not, I never had the 'picked last for sports teams' problem - I was undeniably suited for defense, be it hockey, soccer, or football (and I loved it - it was my 'in' with the Boys). And although kids at those ages can be unbelievably cruel, they mostly won't mess with you when they know you can kick the crap out of them.

When I got to high school, I was already interested in boys, but whether because of my actual looks or just the way I perceived my looks, I was never hotly pursued by any boy. Okay, maybe one, but I wouldn't use the word 'hotly'; I would say more 'warmly' and then just when I was starting to think he really liked me (and at the same time realizing that I didn't really like him at all), he dropped a mutual friend off at home after my birthday party and they kissed. And that was the end of that. (Not of my friendship with the girl....you can check out her blog at......okay, okay, she's very likely cringing because I told her I would never let her forget that and I still haven't, so I won't put up a link - I'm nice like that).

My weight and how I thought of myself didn't change all that much in high school. I grew a little taller and dressed a little better, but I still always felt like the Fat Girl in the group. Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of friends, I was involved in choir and student council and I even played JV basketball for one season, but I was never truly comfortable in my own skin no matter much I excelled at any of those things (though I'll exclude basketball from the 'excelled at' category because it quickly became apparent that I was not cut out for a high school career in sports; choir was my niche).

The summer after high school I met my first 'real' boyfriend. Looking back now, I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking - he was rather geeky! But he was 'handsome' (at the time), he was musically gifted, and he was five years older than me which made him a good catch in my barely-out-of-high-school world. Whether he was actually legally blind or truly didn't care what I looked like, I'll never know, but I can't recall him ever once commenting on my looks. After almost six months, we broke up because he was all those aforementioned things, and he was spineless and whiny so I'd had enough.

Throughout my college career I fared much better. I had oodles of guy (and girl) friends and whether or not they thought I was pretty didn't much matter to me. I just enjoyed their company. I've never officially 'dieted' so I wasn't losing any weight, but I felt better about myself simply because I knew that they liked me because I was fun and cool and had a wicked-awesome-sarcastic sense of humour, of course.

Then my fourth and final year came along. There had been times in the previous three or four years that I hadn't felt well, but it hit with a vengeance early that school year. I was sick. I would eat a piece of toast for breakfast and be 'full' for the entire day. Lunch might occasionally be a tomato or a tortilla with just plain tuna inside. I finally stumbled upon my 'Dinner of Champions' when I mixed a plate of cooked potatoes with a hard-boiled egg and added a little s&p. It was flavourless, but I didn't feel horrible after I ate it, and I could keep it in me for a reasonable amount of time. I lost 35+ pounds between November and March.

It was at the beginning of this fourth year that I met the man who I now call Husband. He met me before I started losing any weight and we were 'dating' before I started losing any weight. I still remember when I told him I was sick and that I was being tested for all these diseases and nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. I felt horrible. I cried. He told me he loved me. He was still telling me he loved me more than a year later while he sat in the Pre-Op. room with me waiting for the nurse to wheel me away to surgery. The point is, he loved me when I was a size 16 and he was still loving me when I was a size 10. It has never mattered to him what size I am. He tells me (maybe not quite often enough to satisfy my girly tendencies) that I'm beautiful even when I complain that I'm ugly and I'm having a 'fat' day and everythingandeveryoneintheworldisuseless.

The surgery only fixed part of the problem. The 'mystery' was solved and I was only officially diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome about a year ago. I've gained back some of that 35+lbs, so I'm now relatively comfortable at a size 12 - at least on the bottom. I got me the family hips, so I get to be a pear-shaped woman! Ooohhh....And until this whole pregnancy thing happened, I could happily buy a small tshirt.

This pregnancy though, has been liberating for me. I started off by losing an entire pants size and I still don't quite 'fill' my maternity pants (we laugh when I do my 'Elvis' dance trying to keep them pulled up). It's the first time in my life when medical professionals have ever looked me square in the face and said, "EAT!" Even going so far as to 'prescribe' two of those canned supplemental beverages per day, emphasizing that they did NOT mean SlimFast. (Just FYI: I've not followed that advice. Those drinks taste awful and do we look like we own a money tree? I think not!)

For once in my life I'm allowed to have a belly that sticks out over the top of my pants. I'm supposed to be round in front and gain weight in my arms and my thighs and my butt, and though I've not gained nearly as much weight as I'm 'supposed' to, I FEEL GOOD. I love how I look. Very rarely do I look in the mirror and gasp at my roundness. Instead, I look and I'm pleased with what I see. Because I'm pregnant and damn it, I'm hot! I wish all my friends could see me now! (This is probably that part of the post where I should be including a picture of my pregnant self so you can all congratulate me on my hotness in the comments section, but alas, the house photographer is at work. Too bad.)

Having said all that (and it feels good to have said it), I do wonder how I'll feel about myself after the Mystery Baby has moved out of the womb and into the nursery. I'm sure I'll have my share of crappy self-image days just like all new moms. Either way, I know Husband will still love me and will still call me beautiful.

This leads to an interesting observation though and I'm sure you've noticed it in having read all of this: why does our self-image so thoroughly revolve around what other people think of us? Why is it so different for a girl to have her beauty validated by some random boy when her parents were likely validating it all her life? We all know the opinions of strangers and even friends and family shouldn't matter as much as our own. Many of us know that our value and self-worth isn't about how we look at all, but rather about our identity as its found in Christ. Yet, we're still caught in that validation trap. (I'm wondering out loud here; I really don't have much to offer by way of explanation).

Interestingly enough, with all these body image blog posts still whirling in my head, this past Saturday, Husband and I attended our first ever pageant. Oi. Vey. This was a pageant in a town of maybe 500 people to choose their Little Miss, Pre-Teen Miss, Junior Miss, Teen Miss, and Miss representatives for the 2007 pageant (read: parade) season. We went because the daughter of one of Husband's coworkers was competing for the Junior Miss title. She displayed her dance talent well (albeit in a very disconcerting costume), she is beautiful, and she won. All of the girls did well. We found ourselves (to our horror) rather sucked-in by the end. We had our favourites and knew who we hoped to see win in each category (two categories only had one contestant so that made it easy). With the exception of the coworker's daughter, we sure wouldn't have won any bets because even in the Little Miss category, the cute little brunette who likes horses and tomatoes lost to the tall, skinny, blond and annoying girl who "would describe herself as tall, skinny and pretty," and who, they forgot to add, 'has an ego the size of Delaware.'

What drove me crazy wasn't the pageant itself, but rather the idea that simply by doing a little dance, answering one question about 'Life in (Small Town)' or your favourite subject in school, followed by the casual-wear competition and the evening gown competition can net you a year of flowers, parade appearances, and other assorted privileges. It's just silly. And has it not just reinforced that the slim girls with the nicest clothes win?

Before my wee rant here is finished, let me share with you three of my biggest weight-related pet peeves.

1) I hate when people assume that because I'm 10, 15, or even 20 pounds over my 'ideal' weight, I must hate myself. I must absolutely dread looking in the mirror every morning and I must've already come up with at least a dozen different plans to end my weighty agony by suicide. Does it ever occur to you that I might be well aware I'm slightly overweight, without your stares or comments to remind me? or that I might even be well aware of it and not ready to kill myself because of it? Did it ever occur to you that I don't spend every waking minute thinking about my weight and how I look in the size 12 shorts I have - compared with your exact-same-pair of size 6 shorts? I. am. not. a. monster.

2) It drives me crazy when people say 'Oh, you're not fat' or 'Oh, but look at you, you're so skinny.' Regardless of the fact that I'm pregnant and I'm supposed to look like this, I'm no idiot. I know I'm not fat, but I also know I'm not skinny or tiny or any of the 10 other adjectives you can use to describe me in a way that you hope will earn you brownie points while simultaneously boosting my weight-related ego. Really. I'd rather you just not say anything at all. Or how about just saying, 'Hey, you look really nice today.' Or 'Wow! Those pants make your ass look fabulous!' Please, do not patronize the weight-bearing woman.

3) This has got to be the weight-related pet peeve that most makes me want to slap some women: DO NOT complain about your weight in front of your young daughter(s)! I once saw an episode of Oprah where she was interviewing young girls with eating disorders. She talked to one young (and VERY normal-sized) four year-old who was convinced she was "FAT!" The core problem? Mom talked nonstop about how "fat" she was and how she should be counting her calories so she wouldn't end up fatter and looking like a bloated cow, etc. Every idea this mother had about her weight was being absorbed by the little girl without the mother even realizing it.

I have nothing against health-conscious moms. I know one or two of them. They have eating standards for their families that will, I'm sure, some day put me to shame. But they don't obsess about their weight or their children's weight; they are simply mindful and careful about what they eat. And their children are healthy confident children.

I have no new conclusions or observations to add here. I don't read People or Cosmo or any of those magazines and I sure hope I can dissuade our children from ever reading them. They are, at best, good for a laugh every once in a while, and at worst, trash. Even the Victoria's Secret catalogue is a lark (yes, hello, I'm married now - I can shop at Victoria's Secret without shame). I have to laugh when I can plainly SEE just how airbrushed most of those pictures are!
We eat as well as we can afford to eat and we're not unhealthy people. We exercise without as much regularity as we should, but we're trying. When the Mystery Baby comes our goal is to avoid refined sugar at least until she's two, but we're not going to deprive her of it forever; a kid should have the luxury of a good piece of birthday cake or a cookie now and again.

And that's all I have to say about that, at least for now.

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In other news, we can now hear the Mystery Baby's heartbeat with the stethoscope Husband gave me for Christmas! Very cool!

My ultrasound on Monday went well. Husband talked to the Radiologist after I left (how handy to have an 'in' and not have to wait a week for results) and everything looks normal and simply related to the "joys" of pregnancy - and the expense of needless tests. Good grief!

We are celebrating our fifth anniversary on Friday so we'll be gone all weekend. No posts from me until next week. See you then!

A Different Sort of Appointment

I'm hesitant to post anything about this, but since a good portion of you are my friends (whether in real life or just in the Blogosphere) and I usually get this feeling that you love me, I think I'll talk about it. (Also, I don't want you to think that I'm just posting about it to get sympathy....except maybe deep down that's really what I want....)

Anyway, I had a regular prenatal appointment yesterday. Everything with the baby sounds/looks fine. I'm "quite nice and round" but courtesy of my "lagging weight gain" will be getting yet another ultrasound in two weeks (if anyone's counting, that'll be my fifth). Yes, I was 'this close' (thumb and index finger mere millimeters apart) to getting the "EAT!" lecture yet again. I'm trying, I'm trying! (A very humourous conversation about bra shopping ensued. I'm convinced that in another lifetime, my Midwife and I would've made excellent roommates.)

Then my appointment took a different sort of turn when I mentioned a wee lump I found in my right breast earlier this week (April's almost over - have YOU done your self-exam this month?). My Midwife poked around a bit and asked a series of questions. I guess my very cheerful and positive answers were the wrong ones because I'm going in for a breast ultrasound on Monday afternoon. She said it definitely did not feel like anything mammary-gland related . So there. That's it. I'm not super-worried, but it's still 'there,' you know? On the back burner of my thoughts. If you're so inclined, thanks in advance for your prayers.

Oh! I almost forgot! After said appointment, Husband and I were both having a hankering for a Slurpee. We have no 7-11 anywhere around and have had no luck hunting down a slurpee/slushee/whateveryouwanttocallit since we moved here. Yesterday though - oh what glee! What excitement! On our way to the gas station, we passed the Dairy Bar - the queue at the Dairy Bar. Hooray! We had our first swirl cone of the season and guess what else! Wait for it....we weren't even wearing jackets! FINALLY!