Week 20, To find out, or not to find out?…

I’m halfway through!  Holy Hallelujah!  I’m glad to say I’m feeling great in my second trimeter.  In fact, I’m feeling better in this pregnancy’s second trimester than I ever felt with my past two.  I wonder if this is just an illusion though.  Like maybe I’ve gotten so used to being pregnant, that the vivid memory of what it feels like to be normal has faded to the point where I can’t really compare anymore.  Illusion or not, the result is the same, and I’m feeling awesome!  I am now one of those pregnant women whom I used to despise when they said, “I love being pregnant.”  I used to think, “You freaking liar.  You’re making the rest of us look bad.”  Because here I am trying to live through the misery of all of these symptoms, and you say you’re feeling fine, “Maybe just a little tired.”  And now my husband thinks I’m faking it, exaggerating, just being sensitive, or all of the above.  Thanks lady.  Lmao.  I’m not actually to the point where I love being pregnant, but at least I’m not a worthless lump on the couch anymore.

At 20 weeks, the biggest question that everyone wants to know is, “Boy, or Girl?”  With our first baby, Nate and I waited to find out until the baby shower.  We had the ultrasound tech write the gender on a notecard in a sealed envelope, and I gave it directly to my surrogate sisters with instructions to create some sort of reveal at the baby shower.  So at about 8 months pregnant, we threw a coed baby shower/gender reveal party, which included a keg, per my husband’s request.  Everyone wore Mardi Gras beads in pink or blue, betting on what they thought it was.  We all went outside onto the front driveway, where my sisters placed a large wrapped box in front of us.  Once we opened it, a bunch of white and blue balloons floated out of it and up into the sky.  It was magical, and Nate and I both teared up as our family hooted and clapped.  Really, it was an amazing way to celebrate and get the family involved.  Here are some pix.

With my second pregnancy, I was way too anxious to wait.  Also, Nate was going to be gone my whole second trimester and most of my third.  So we ended up going to one of those early ultrasound clinics to find out as soon as we possibly could.  I think it was around 14 weeks.  It was romantic and intimate to just be the two of us and Maverick.  And the ultrasound tech was more family friendly and social, rather than the techs at the hospital who are mainly looking at the anatomy, and the gender is really more of an afterthought for them.  Honestly, I was shocked to find out that it was a girl because I was totally sure it was a boy.  And now that I know her, she is a complete daredevil, tomboy.  So now I know why I was getting that boy vibe.  Nate and the rest of our family were absolutely smitten and in love because now we had one of each<3

So now with this pregnancy, here comes the question again.  A couple months ago, Nate expressed his idea of waiting to find out the gender until the birth.  At first I was shocked and thought he was kidding.  But he seems really passionate about it, arguing that we already have one of each, and baby supplies and clothes for each, so why not?  And here I am thinking that I really don’t need any surprises in the delivery room.  That there’s plenty of the unknown as it is, and that any knowledge that can be available to me, I should know.  But that’s just the pragmatic control freak in me I guess.  And my sweet and spontaneous hubby is always reminding me of the delight a little mystery can bring.  So I am definitely going along with his plan for this baby’s gender reveal.  I’m not always so agreeable to his ideas.  But this one, I can do 😉

Here’s a pic of my 5 month baby bump!


Week 19, Sympathy Pregnancy (continued)

Last week I was posting about Nate’s sympathy pregnancy, and how it manifests itself first and foremost in weight gain, lol.  But there are a couple other manifestations I wanted to talk about.  Not only does he parallel me in eating for two, but he starts drinking for two as well.  Now, I should preface by saying that Nate is the jolliest drunk I’ve ever met.  In fact, he’s so lovey and adoring that it actually drives me nuts.  I try not to be so hormonal bitchy, but the truth is I’m sitting over here with a plethora of symptoms making me uncomfortable, I’m sober, and I just want to lay on the couch and eat.  Also I’m a little bit jealous.  I’ve completely outlawed wine in the house because I can smell it from across the room, and I start salivating.  It’s just not fair.

So besides wine, or when he actually gets really drunk and wants my attention, then I don’t really care.  Especially because he will wait on me hand and foot.  He will serve me food, seltzer water, cookies, and headache pills whenever I ask.  He will change all the diapers and feed the kids.  He will keep the house clean to his standard, (which leaves much to be desired as far as I’m concerned,) but the intention is there, and it means the world to me when I’m incapacitated.  So he will start day drinking alone at 10a.m. on a Saturday, and I’m like, “What’s the occasion?”  And he’s like, “I need fuel to deal with your neediness.”  And I’m like, “Fair enough.”  And I mean it.  For all that he does for me when I’m pregnant, if that means he needs to have a continual buzz, then I can understand.  Because in all reality, if I could take on pregnancy with a steady buzz, I think all would be right in my world.

The other thing that happens soon after I get pregnant is that Nate goes through a kind of mini mid-life crisis.  Clearly, he thinks his life is about to be stripped of all fun.  And truthfully, he’s got a point.  At least for the pregnancy and the first year of the baby’s life.  So he comes up with some expensive and unattainable thing that he wants, and starts to obsess over it.  This time it’s a Harley Davidson.  Now, for those of you who don’t know, I practically grew up on the back of a Harley.  My dad and uncle went riding every weekend they could, and my mom and I were almost always on the back.  I loved it.  Nate and I have dreamed about owning and riding a Harley together, and I have always known it would be a reality someday.  SOMEDAY.  Like a day when the kids are in school or with friends, and Nate and I can just take off for a day ride, knowing that our kids are somewhat independent and self sufficient.  Not when they are babies and still in that age where they might accidentally kill themselves if I’m not circling like a hawk.  And especially not when I’m still breastfeeding every two hours.

Okay.  The kids are one factor, but if we really wanted to, we would figure it out.  That’s not my biggest concern.  The two other factors that are non negotiable in my mind are; not while on sea duty, and not until we have a garage.  Even the garage factor I’d be willing to work with as long as we weren’t on sea duty.  Because a Harley is not meant to just be outside every day in the elements.  And we live by the beach where the air is salty and wet.  This would require some thorough and consistent maintenance on the bike, which Nate just doesn’t have the time for.  And if he doesn’t even have time to maintain the bike, how does he think he will have time to ride it???  His argument is that he will ride it to work.  But there’s another thing.  Motorcycles are especially dangerous in the city and during rush hours.  The man just spent the first 15 years of his Naval career jumping out of helicopters as a rescue swimmer.  So I’m like, “For God’s sake, can you please just be safe for like five minutes?”  I don’t need to be worrying about you on the job, as well as on your way to the job.  Give me a freaking break.

So even if we could overcome the absence of a garage, and find the time to enjoy the damn thing, what happens when Nate leaves town for weeks to months on end for work?…. One more thing for me to manage and take care of and maintain?  I think not.  Since we wouldn’t have it safely tucked away in the garage, I would have to move it regularly.  Even if I had a motorcycle license, and I knew the kids were safe to be alone for a few minutes, I would still need the physical strength and confidence to wrangle that beast.  That’s not even going into the maintenance regimen it would need.  Sea duty = no motorcycle.

I try to explain these realistic obstacles to him, and his idea is that we build a garage.  Okay.  Let’s think through this one.  Although I actually really like the idea of the garage, it would be a very large undertaking because we would have to create space where there is none.  We would be digging into the hill under our front deck all the way to the front door, construct the garage, and then recreate access to the front door on top of the garage.  And that’s even IF the city approved it.  So here I am like baffled by this delusion that we could make this happen, all while we are about to have a baby.  Oh, and did I mention that the construction bid was $90,000?  Lmao.

So here I am, the baby-making dream killer.  And my husband, well I guess that makes him the fat, delusional drunk.  It’s all just part of our journey through pregnancy, and it’s not always a pretty picture.  But it’s our truth.

Week 18, Sympathy Pregnancy

I am 4.5 months along now, and it’s about the time that Nate finally admits that he has a sympathy pregnancy, and starts to rectify it.  What is a sympathy pregnancy, you ask?  Well, exactly what it sounds like.  Your hubby or partner has so much sympathy or empathy for what you’re going through, that he starts to develop symptoms of his own.  I kid you not, this is real.  In Nate’s case, his appetite shoots through the roof, and he starts to gain weight.  During my first pregnancy with Maverick, Nate claimed that I was starting to gain weight around the three month mark.  And you’re probably thinking, “Duh, you’re eating for two when you’re pregnant.”  Well, that’s not entirely true.  During the first trimester, you are only really supposed to consume a couple hundred extra calories a day.  That’s like a granola bar or two.  And it’s recommended that you only gain a few pounds during the entire first trimester, if any.  Here’s a pic of month three when I was pregnant with Mav, and I was so skinny back then that, yes, this tiny little pooch was for sure a baby bump as far as Nate and I were concerned…


So whenever I would point out to Nate that his appetite seems to have grown, he would shoot right back that I am also gaining weight, implying that maybe I’m gaining too much too fast.  And I would think, yea, right.  We’ll see.  So I bet him that at my three month appointment coming up, that my weigh-in would be perfectly normal at the 3-5 pound weight gain recommendation.  At the time, Nate and I were doing a group appointment for new parents called, “Centering.”  It’s very similar to what you see in the movies where a bunch of newly pregnant couples sit in a circle, and the midwife teaches you things each visit like nutrition, what to expect during pregnancy, what’s normal and what’s not, etc.

So when we get to the appointment, I tell all the ladies that my husband has a sympathy pregnancy, and that he’s been giving me crap about my weight gain.  They start yapping at him in my defense like, “How dare you!”  It was awesome.  I got on the scale and weighed in with a two pound weight gain.  I didn’t even try to hold back my, “I told you so,” smile.  I then informed Nate that he will now be getting on the scale.  You see, I knew that my fellow pregnant ladies would not let him off the hook now.  So as the other husbands looked on with pity, he got on the scale.  Turns out that he had gained 8 pounds!  We were all hooting and hollering at him.  I will never forget this winning moment.

See, I could care less about his weight gain.  I was just thrilled that we all knew that I was right, and that he finally had to admit that he did, in fact, have a sympathy pregnancy.  Now, in my second pregnancy and in this current one, he doesn’t even deny it anymore.  We just roll with it.  We both gain a little weight, and then at about the 4-5 month mark he decides to get back in shape, while I really start packing on the pounds.  Here’s some pics of month four, five, and six when I was pregnant with Mav…


And here’s month four, five, and six  when I was pregnant with Summerly…

And here’s month four of this pregnancy.  I will have to take a pic of month five soon!!



I have a lot more to say about the effects of a pregnancy on your partner, but my kids have stripped naked, are screaming at me, and are about to dig in the trash if I don’t start paying attention to them.  So we’ll talk more next week;)  Ta ta for now!