Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Flavors

21 weeks.

I asked Husband yesterday if he could pick up the next 19, since I carried Poppy the first 21-- it's only fair-- and he politely declined.

21 weeks.

Here's what so cool about Poppy at her dashing 21 weeks... she can taste. Whatever I eat, she gets to taste it as she gulps her amniotic fluid for nutrients. And she's eaten pretty good this week... filet mignon a'la Brother's Green Egg, plenty of Cheerios, Fresh Market pimento cheese, Chick-Fil-A, Village Deli, yummy-1974-2 can Campbell Soup-Brown rice (we've all had it), squash, boiled peanuts, and LOTS of Crystal Light & Apple Juice.

Poppy has been a regular Michael Phelps swimming from the left side of my uterus to the right side... and then back again. It is an interesting feeling- having them somersault & toss around in the little fish bowl.

And I am getting bigger, too. Every time Brother looks at me, "GIRL-- we're gonna start calling you BIG MAMA!" It's amazing what 7 pounds can look like on a five foot, three inch girl! Oh, sweet seven pounds. How I am glad there is not a "1" anywhere near that "7" (on either side!).

Now that I am looking pregnant (and not like I do not know any better & wearing clothes that don't fit), Will is going to have to snap some pictures with our new camera. He went to Wolf last week & asked the lady for the fastest shutter speed out there as we already know this kid is a "zoomer!"

We go back to get an ultrasound again in two weeks! To clear something up-- Poppy is PERFECTLY healthy; no problems anywhere.

None.

Zip.

Zero.

Nada.

Even our quad screen came back and said that she will be the future President of the United States. Okay, that is a little exageration, but it did come back with two thumbs up & an "A+" at the top. Still an exageration, but I'll go with it for the time being.

Once we go back to the ultra-sound-er on the 12th, Will & I will spill the beans on Poppy's name. She will still be our Poppy, multiplied by about a million, but she will have her real name- monogrammed bloomers & all.

Friday, January 23, 2009

I believe.

I believe many things.

I believe that chocolate was God's gift to single women.
I believe that vanilla ice cream tastes better when eaten outside.
I believe that Husbands are the greatest people in the whole wide world.
I believe that your mind is always clearer after a walk, no matter the weather.
I believe that a clean car drives better.
I believe that orange goes with more colors than people give it credit for.
I believe that red goes with fewer colors than people put stock in.
I believe that arguing does not accomplish anything.

I believe that people hide behind 'devil's advocate.'
I believe that money should be invested in good Kleenexes.
I believe that bikinis should not be made past a certain size.
I believe that History is only as interseting as the teacher.
I believe that Thriller was one of the greatest albums ever made.
I believe that being nice gets you farther in life.

I belive in just a few things.

I believe in my husband & what he can accomplish.
I believe in his work.
I believe in God.
I believe in the power of prayer.

We have a member of our family who is sick. He wears Spider-Man pajamas and he has cancer. He needs our thoughts and he needs our prayers.

I believe that when our nephew, John, was so sick, and we all prayed... it was the doctors that did the fixing and it was God who did the healing.

The doctors. The nurses. The parents. The brothers. The grandparents. The aunts. The uncles. The little guy in the spider-man pajamas. That is where my thoughts and my prayers will be.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Halfway

How sad I am to update my blog this week. I really liked my last post. HOWEVER, I have been looking forward to this post since the nausea kicked in, the wine glasses started collecting dust, and the sexy jeans were retired... this week I am on the downslope of this whole pregnancy business. 20 weeks! 20 weeks! 20 weeks! Halfway, actually, more than halfway... Monday was halfway & if there is no calendar on your desk, that was t-h-r-e-e days ago. 19 weeks, 4 days to go.

Poppy is 20 weeks old this week. But, I did not get to talk about last weeks very long ultrasound. Poppy popped up on the screen and we saw the side angle of LMC (Little Miss Cagle) sucking her tiny thumb. I was blown away by the sight of the white curves making out the baby, our baby, hanging out in my uterus.

How about this for 20-week old Poppy? SHE has developed sleep pattern and she already has all of her "woman parts" for future doctor visits. Yeah, I think I will wait a while before we have THAT talk! Also, Poppy is the size of a red-bull can. All I can picture when I think of Red Bull is my crazy cousin, Lauren & when she used to come visit me in Athens. She LOVED Red Bull. LOVED it. Probably took 10 years off of her life she drank so much of it. Legal Addictive Stimulant.

And 20-week old Poppy has a name. She has a name. And I love her name. And Husband does, too. I even bought some very sassy bloomers last week with lace on the legs and took them to Three Stitches to get it monogrammed with pink letters and lime green polka dots. Poppy can wear her bloomers over stinky diapers and flash her letters for everyone to see.

We just are not ready to share. Yet.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Uptown Girl








oh my goodness...

Well, I said I did not have a preference and I did not.

Until I saw Poppy on the screen sucking its thumb and kicking the sides of the fishbowl and the ultrasounder person looked at me and asked for the tenth time, "Do you want to know what it is?"

YES! YES! YES, we want to know!

Will said, "Look, it's a girl."

"Is he right? Is he right? IS HE RIGHT?"

In my heart of hearts, at that moment, I wanted Husband to be right.

And he was.

Poppy is a girl.

Poppy will have seersucker dresses, Mary Jane shoes, white dress formal days, and pleated school uniform skirts.

Poppy will sip lemonade on Georgia Hill in her Masters Dress, wear her Georgia cheerleading outfit to Athens (and nap through the games), dance backwards at Social in her white gloves, and sleep in polka dot pajamas.

She might go to Georgia, she might not. She might be a Kappa, she might be a Zeta. She might be so many things in this world.

But she is ours. And she is a she. And she will be here in 20 weeks, give or take.

Today! Today! Today!

I am about to walk out the door to eat lunch with Ben and then I have 4 appointments at MCG over the next two hours:

1- X-Ray to make sure my foot in mended
2- Ortho appointment to confirm my x-ray
3- ULTRASOUND! POPPY GETS A GENDER!
4- Ob-Gyn appointment with Erin

And then... and then... and then... we will either have a son or a daughter on the way.

So far, everyone thinks Poppy is a boy. Everyone. Well, there were 5 people out there who said girl.

I do not care what we are having. I really don't. As long as Poppy has 10 fingers, 10 toes, 2 eyeballs, & the cutest set of ears this side of Texas, I will be a happy camper.

And we get to see Poppy today! The ultrasound-- this will be the first time since we found out there was a bambino on the way that we get to sneak a peek inside & check out what is going on in there. No more grains of rice in a big pool of dark water. No sir, not THIS KID! This kid is going to be loud and clear coming through the little monitor.

Okay, I have to go get more water-- well hydrated incubators make for better pictures and I have been down on my job.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Pickles & Ice Cream

Today, I am 18 weeks pregnant.

I have bronchitis (a killer cough), pink eye, a broken foot, crippled pride, but I AM 18 WEEKS!

If it would be cool, I would like to take a bow. I am almost... almost half way through. And if I throw up again, someone is going to die.

Poppy is 18 weeks today. Forget the size of your hand. Go to your fridge- look in the door & pull out the outdated pickle jar that is crusted over and is way past throwing out. You will have to wait to take out the trash before those pickles get plucked from the door and toss them in the Glad Bag on the way out to the curb.

Shake the jar and check out the fattest pickle behind the whited over label. Say Hello to Poppy, because that's the size of our person. Poppy can now yawn (while watching hunting shows) and hiccup (too much co'cola). Also, their fingerprints are complete! If we could, their little paws can run over an ink pad and be posted on CSI:Miami & Horatio Caine could be on the lookout for Poppy. Poppy weighs in around 5 ounces-- about the size of a chicken breast on your dinner plate. Not MY plate- chicken and I still do not agree (it's the feathers), but your plate can hold my serving of chicken just fine!

I will stick to Cheerios.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

the short, short version

Poppy? Where does it come from? Recently, that has been the question of the day. Will & I found out that our little family of 2 was growing wayyy back when I was in the 4-6 week range. As soon as there were two lines (not one... two), I rushed out to Target and purchased "What to Expect when you're Expecting" --AKA-- The Bible.

After reading (skimming) the first hundred or so pages about how to get pregnant (got that), what to do to help getting pregnant (didn't need that section), why drugs are bad for uterus bound babies, how to quit smoking & what to do about those pesky nipple rings (seriously?!), I got to the much needed section of sections-- What to FREAKING expect.

Page 107 of WTEWYE said that a UBB (that would be uterus bound baby) at our point in pregnancy was the size of a poppy seed. That would be super teeny tiny for those that don't know anything about cooking or opiates. This thing was our little poppy seed, it was our little Poppy. And it was my job to make sure that the teeny tiny poppy seed did not shake loose, fall out, or do anything dumb to rock the world of what would be the future Lil' Cagle too much over the next several months.

Poppy Seed quickly grew into a fruit (tomato seed, orange seed, avocado seed, plum, prune, small melon...) and is now past all that and moving into body part sizes (palm of hand, whole hand, length of arm...) before it finally moves to sizes I would rather not imagine (watermelon, rhino).

Poppy seed was a little long winded & so many of the other usual names were taken by our friends- peanut, friend, butter bean, bean, embryo, parasite.... So, Poppy fits us just fine.

Now you know-- we're nuts. But, we're nuts together & we don't have a peanut. We have a Poppy.