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Showing posts from February, 2012

"Would you like a cookie with that?"

After ordering a sandwich, lemonade and chips the lady at Einstein Bros. Bagels asked if I would like a cookie. I paused. When - especially as a pregnant woman - do I want a cookie? The answer is always. However, considering my limited pants choices right now, the correct answer is no. I reluctantly shook my head, but did gaze lovingly at the cookies letting them know, it's not you, it's me. And my ever expanding ass.

Pregnancy has not brought about my finest culinary choices. Last week I stopped at the CVS at the corner of Linwood and Prospect because I needed strawberry pop tarts, stat. I barely had the car door closed before I tore open that shiny foil. No need to toast them; they're just find cold. The urgency of these cravings is shocking.

I heard a story about a pregnant woman who just craved ice and fruit. Really? Who is this woman? I would like to punch her. My cravings swing from pickles (yes, I'm a cliche) to Houston's hamburgers, onion rings to bacon, fro…

The Bin of Broken Dreams

(January 18, 2012)

Around week ten my wardrobe became a problem. Deciding what to wear to work became less of a decision based on preference and more dependent on what would actually button. My previous "big girl" pants were now fitting snugly. My expanding chest (which needed no help to begin with) was difficult to contain in my normal tops.

As I would stand in front of my closet, getting increasingly frustrated that what I wanted to wear was not a possibility, I decided the only option was to put the too tight clothes in the basement. Husband brought me a large plastic bin and left me to the task.

It was more emotional than I had anticipated. (Or maybe I'm just more emotional in general.) I felt the need to have private goodbye conversations with various pieces. My favorite going out jeans, party dresses, work pants and finally, the short skirts. The skirts were particularly hard. Since I'm knocking on forty, the skirts had limited shelf life anyway. Bu…

Define Huge

(This was written January 12)

I met with my new OB/GYN today. While I had a perfectly lovely gynecologist for the last ten years, her location is no longer convenient, especially when I may be in labor. So after asking around for referrals, I settled on Dr. L.

Dr. L is a sweet, grandpa type. Admittedly, there were some nerves about going to a male doctor. My first experience in the OB/GYN world was in high school and included a Dr. Hyman (seriously), a med student and a nurse. It was horrifying and I've made sure to have a female doc every since.

After starting the appointment with an ultrasound (175 heartbeat, woo hoo) I met with Dr. L in his office to discuss family history, health issues, etc. One of my major concerns - besides how much weight I'm going to gain - is how big this baby is going to be. The conversation went like this:

Me: I was a huge baby and heard that is hereditary. Is this true?

Dr. L: Well, I've delivered more than 5,000 babies so we may have…