Weekly Weigh-In #2: Craptastic!

128.8 lbs.

2 pounds heavier than last week. Still less than my pre-wedding weight. In fact, this weight would have made me really happy 6 months ago. 

But I'm pretty sure the two pounds I gained is mostly due to extreme constipation. Yummy!  It could be partially due eating lots of cheese and chocolate this week, but with the bloating and cramping I feel, I'm sure a lot of heaviness is because I haven't had a good poop since December 9th when I first took the pregnancy test.

Ever since my period was late several weeks ago something got messed up with my #2 cycle.  I was concerned only because I poop like clockwork after my Starbucks every morning. So this was another indicator to me that I might be pregnant.

Literally 5 minutes after we saw the positive pregnancy test results on December 9th, I had the extreme urge to go.

When I came back to bed, while we were freaking out about the impending baby, I announced, "Haha, I'm literally scared sh*tless!"

This actually broke the ice and made us stop freaking out for a moment because we started having one of our silly bickering fights...it went something like this.

"Babe, I'm scared sh*tless! That's so funny! That actually happens!"

"No, if you were scared sh*tless, you wouldn't be able to sh*t. Like, all of a sudden, there would be no sh*t."

"You're totally wrong. The expression came about because you lose your bowels when you're really scared. Even when you die, you just sh*t. It just happens."

"No, you're wrong."

This went on for a little while longer and I partially thought my husband was just arguing for arguments sake, but I wasn't sure whether he was trying to bother me or actually that mistaken.  Finally, my best argument came to me:

"Then why do people say 'That scared the crap out of me'?"

"That's different."

This time he was joking. He knew I proved him wrong. And it was hilarious. To us.

Now I'm just hoping that the anxiety I'm feeling about having our first OB appointment on Wednesday inspires a nice poop between now and then :(


Gross Constipation Image Source

Review: "What to Expect" Induces Nausea

Like any savvy pregnant chick would, I trolled my iPhone's app store for cool pregnancy applications. I know there's a chance that my embryo won't be viable, so instead of downloading tons of apps that I would have to later delete if I lost the baby, I went for the free "What to Expect" Pregnancy Tracker app. (Ya know, based on that ridiculously popular book that compares fetuses to fruit.)

So I haven't had any morning sickness or crazy mood swings with my pregnancy (yet) but this application is starting to induce them.

According to the tracking calendar, I'm in the beginning of my 7th week, and already my embryo has been described as a future "prince (or princess)". It has already been the size of a poppy seed, then an orange seed, then a sweet pea, and is now moving into the blueberry phase. They've alluded to the bond between mother and child being built that we will last a lifetime and given me the image of cradling my baby in my arms.

HELLO?? What if I have a miscarriage?  Is it really appropriate for the quintessential pregnancy book to force such emotional language on us before we've even been to the doctor to see if our pregnancy is viable?

It just seems so wrong to me.

Well, I go to the doctor next Wednesday. I will find out then if the little blueberry has a heartbeat.  THEN I will feel comfortable "oohing" and "aahing" over my soon-to-be baby.

Here are some of my favorite sickeningly sweet quotes seem just a little too presumptuous. My emphasis added...

From Week 4, just after fertilization: "Your baby has found its home -- your uterous. Once there, it burrows into your uterine lining and implants -- making that unbreakable connection to you that'll last the next eight months (and a lifetime after that)."

From Week 5, when most women take a pregnancy test: "One of the first systems to be operational is the circulatory...along with its companion organ: the heart. Your baby's heart is made up of two tiny channels called heart tubes...When those tubes fuse together, your baby will have a fully functioning heart (though it almost certainly already has a grip on yours)."  "In fact, you're fewer than eight months away from holding a real prince (or princess) in your arms."

From Week 6, when the baby is the size of a pea: "During fetal development, practitioners measure embryos as small as yours from precious little crown to cute little rump."  

Luckily, Week 7, which I'm up to now isn't that bad. It just refers to my little one as a "budding genius" which is 100% accurate.

Weekly Weigh-In #1

126.8 lbs.

We'll see how long I feel comfortable advertising my weight, even anonymously...

Cravings... Before I Knew I Was Preggo...

Last Saturday night in NYC, it was 30 degrees with freezing rain. I had plans to go to Arlene's Grocery, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving the house so I canceled my plans to stay home at catch up on Lost Season 5 while my husband was out with his friends.

At some point in the evening I had an intense craving for calorie-dense Italian food and a smokey red wine. I just couldn't think of anything better than sipping a glass or two of wine, so I got dressed for the first time all day and went to the wine store.  I was sooooooo content that evening.

The next day, all I could think about was drinking more wine. So I had a big glass Sunday evening also with my leftovers from Ottomanelli's Cafe.

Then it dawned on me. What if my body is craving wine because it knows this is the last time I can drink it?

At this point, I was still waiting for my period to come. My cycle was a little off the prior month so I wasn't sure if my iPhone's Free Menstrual Calendar (FMC)* app was accurate. If it was accurate, then my period was 4 days late.

On Monday, I was hungrier than usual. My commute home from Soho to the UES takes 45-60 minutes, and on Monday night I couldn't wait to get home before eating a snack. I was still thinking about my weird wine craving as I went into the Sunrise Mart for some salmon sushi and seaweed salad.  I quickly ate there and then headed uptown for my actual meal.

As soon as I left Sunrise Mart, I thought "Oh SH*T. I'm definitely pregnant." I had another "bad food" craving. Sushi is another no-no for preggers, so I had a profound feeling that some higher power was telling me to eat it while I was still oblivious...

Fast forward to Tuesday. Period was now 6 days late, and I had the day off from work.

It was the perfect Manhattan winter day. The cold and wind from the weekend subsided, the sun was out, and the air was a crisp 45 degrees. When I walked out of my apartment building and the fresh air hit me, I thought, "Ahhh, today would be a great day to go to the park, bum a cigarette or two and sit on a bench to people watch."

Oh God, now I was craving cigarettes. I haven't bummed a cigarette in months!  (Don't worry--I didn't smoke.)

And low and behold, I took the pregnancy test the following day and we know how that turned out. I'm glad I got my bad girl cravings out of the way before I could officially feel guilty about them.





*I was using the FMC (which I cutely referred to in conversation with my hubby as the "F*ck Me Calendar") to avoid pregnancy by using what I guess you'd call the Rhythm Method. Let's just say we think we conceived on the day AFTER my FMC said I stopped being fertile.

The First Response Results

My period was a week late. I knew I was pregnant. My husband and I have been together since high school, but it seemed too soon to be pregnant---it meant we got pregnant on our honeymoon! It meant I was pregnant at our 10 year high school reunion over Thanksgiving. It meant that after 10 years of dating and two weeks of marriage I got pregnant. I felt too young for this.

But the reality was that my PMS symptoms didn't result in my period (cravings, cramps, bloating, hot flashes, etc), so I had to take the test. And in the midst of a life-changing moment, our usual brand of hilarity ensued...

It was midnight on Wednesday. H had an early meeting the following morning and asked me to wait to take the test until Friday. Ummm, no! Let's get it over with.

I peed on the stick, then ran into the bed to lie there with the H for our 3 minute waiting period. "Okay, you have to go look at the results," I said.

After some convincing, H went into the bathroom to determine our fate. After some silence, he shouts "You're not pregnant!"

"I'm not?!"

"No, the lines are too far apart."

"Lines?? Two lines means I'm pregnant. Is there more than one line????"

"Wait. There are two lines, but it doesn't look like the picture. So you can't be pregnant. In the picture, they're really close together."

"Babe, two lines means I'm pregnant. Bring me the test."

Yup. Two lines. I'm pregnant. And to give H some credit, the lines were much farther apart on the little results screen than on the results diagram, but I teased him about it anyway.

We laughed.

Then we laid in bed and started semi-freaking out...