So we had our second trimester 3D ultrasound today, and I have to say, I know I’m a bit partial, but my baby is a-dor-a-ble.  Even all squishy and clay-colored and tiny.  She’s all cooked, just needs to get bigger. 

The thing is, and I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before, but all babies in utero look pretty much exactly the same.  In other words, she doesn’t look Asian, which surprised me a little (I know, I’m more than slightly crazy).  The baby that is currently shoving her tiny adorable foot right in my bladder looks nothing like the baby I have pictured in my head.  And really, the baby I have in my head will most likely look nothing like the baby that eventually makes her debut.  I suppose it’s just easier to have a face to imagine when you’re daydreaming and planning and freaking out.  And I’m not exactly sure how I came up with my baby composite; it’s like my brain merged my picture with Tom’s picture and created a faux baby.  I will pee my pants if faux baby and real baby actually look alike.  I may go into business as a baby face predictor.

Just realized that another side effect of pregnancy is severe mind-wandering and delusional blogging.  Moving on…

If you’ve ever had an ultrasound, you’ll understand when I say it’s kind of stressful.  Not only because you’re seeing your baby for the (likely) first time, and God forbid something is wrong, this is when you’d find out.  But it’s stressful for another reason as well, as I found out during today’s ultrasound: this is the first opportunity your child has to either behave and stay still and turn when needed so the patient tech can get all the pictures and measurements she needs, or misbehave and flip over and over and over in the complete opposite direction required, or lay on her stomach the whole time, or cover her face with her cute little hands, or literally move around so that the only view we have is of her adorable little butt.  Can you guess which group my sweet little angel fell into today?  And the funny thing is, I was kind of embarrassed.  I kept willing her to stop and lie still for the tech, like I was a bad parent because she wouldn’t cooperate.  I sincerely hope this is not indicative of what’s to come; I ask her kindly every night before we go to sleep to be kind to Mommy and always be a good girl and never misbehave.  She usually digs her heel into my bladder to let me know she hears me.

By the way, as soon as Tech Tom edits our DVD, we’ll post it and you will all be able to ooooh and aaaah over my adorable little baby.  Please, try to contain yourselves.

Is it ever appropriate to ask someone if they’re pregnant?  And by someone, I mean a complete stranger (it’s always ok to ask your friends and family, because it your job is to offend them whenever you can).  I ask this because I get asked a hundred times a day by people I do not know if I’m pregnant.  Now, I do look pretty pregnant, but still.  Isn’t it a little risky to take that chance?  What if I weren’t pregnant?

Well, if I wasn’t pregnant, I would have probably been fired by now for an act of violence against a customer.  I have talked to people who have been asked if they’re pregnant when they weren’t (ouch), and it’s not a pleasant situation.  That’s quite possibly the most offensive thing you can mistakenly ask someone (it’s right up there with asking someone if that foul odor is coming from them).  It’s a very fine line; a lot of women who are a little on the voluptuous side have a tendency to look slightly pregnant-ish in certain clothes under certain lighting (that’s me trying to be politically correct).  So in pretty much all instances, it’s better not to ask.  I was always taught that the only time it was appropriate to ask a woman if she was pregnant was when she was in active labor.

But, if you’re just beyond curious and you have to know, there are a few tell tale signs to look for, other than a bulging belly (NEVER go by a big tummy alone).  First, look at her walk.  Pregnant women don’t walk, we shuffle and/or waddle.  If she wobbless like a Weebol, she’s probably pregnant.  Second, look at the way she stands.  I couldn’t stand up straight right now if I tried.  The large round stomach and extra weight I’m carrying around in front of me make it very difficult.  I look like a boomerang when I stand up.  Third, if you can see her hands and feet, and they look slightly (or majorly) doughy and are lacking the normal hand and feet definition, she either eats way too much salt, or is having a baby.  And finally, if she has a look of general discomfort and annoyance on her face at any given time, coupled with any of the above symptoms, there’s a pretty good chance that she is indeed pregnant.  Ask at your own peril.

For the most part, coming from a pregnant woman, it’s probably better not to ask.  Really, all you have to do is ask how she’s doing, and she’ll be more than happy to let you off the hook and spill the beans.  I’m excited about being pregnant, I love talking about it.  I don’t even take offense when people ask me (I mean, come on, who am I kidding, I’m either pregnant or deformed).  Except if I’m having a bad day.  Or looking to have a little fun.  In which case I may start to cry.  Or yell.  It all depends on my mood.  And that changes a lot.  So good luck!

I’ve been able to feel the baby move for a few weeks now, so I can pretty much pinpoint where she is in my vast uterus, whether or not she’s flipping over or just punching her mom, or if she’s just lounging about.  So imagine my surprise when I felt a new feeling a few days ago.  It wasn’t a flip, or a punch, or a gentle swaying lounge.  I wasn’t entirely sure it was the baby at all.  After some thought and concentration on the feeling when it happened, I came to the conclusion that the feeling could only be one thing: a contraction.  Well, I guess it could have been one of two things: a contraction, or my child suddenly expanding to the size of a watermelon and trying to bust out of my stomach.  Contraction made more sense.

Now, I’m five months pregnant.  Braxton Hicks contractions (contractions that feel like labor contractions but don’t actually signify the start of labor) are very common on the final weeks of pregnancy, and some women start to feel them as early as 6 weeks.  I certainly wasn’t expecting to feel anything like that at this stage, so I was kinda freaked out.  And then of course, you hear and read the horror stories of women who had contractions and went into early labor, were hospitalized, etc.  (On a side note, for anyone who reads this blog and knows someone who is pregnant or trying to become pregnant, it is probably a good idea to refrain from sharing those kinds of stories with them.  It’s kinda inappropriate and mean, like telling someone the story of your cousin who died bungee jumping just as they are about to jump.)  For someone who’s never been here before, it’s a little scary.

Luckily, I had an appointment today with my OBGYN.  I told her what was going on, and she seemed pretty nonchalant about it.  Made me pee in a cup, tested said pee, and came back with the diagnosis.  Voila!  I have a bladder infection.  How is that related, you ask?  I did too.  Apparently, your bladder can contract, which in turn makes your uterus think that looks like fun, and then it contracts.  My uterus is a follower, not a leader.  I’ve got to have to little chat with it about that when this is all over.

So, now I’ve got an Rx for antibiotics (safe for baby), a mean bully bladder, and a uterus who follows along for fun.  Luckily, that’s all it was.  I’ll take bully bladder over the alternatives any day.  But it’s just one more thing to add to the list of unpleasant pregnancy surprises.  I mean, shouldn’t preggos be exempt from this kind of stuff?  It seems like a kick in the teeth that in addition to all the other wonderful little things we get to deal with, we also have to worry about bladder infections that cause contractions.  Yippee.  I can’t wait to see what happens next.

I finally found a baby book that I really like.  Dr. Oz (from Oprah the all-knowing) and his partner Dr. Roizen have written a few books in the “You” series (“You: The Owner’s Manual”, “You: On A Diet”, etc), and I found “You: Having a Baby” at Target the other day.  So of course I bought it, because Dr. Oz is awesome.  I’ve been reading it for a few days, and I’ve discovered some very interesting information.  Like, for instance, apparently I’ve been putting myself and my baby in harm’s way every night when I go to sleep.  I know, not cool.

Obviously when you get pregnant and start to show, sleeping on your belly becomes impossible.  It’s not very comfortable when you have a bulge growing out of your abdomen.  I’m a belly sleeper, 100%, so it kinda sucks, but it was ok because I had the sleeping on my back option, which is my 2nd favorite way to sleep.  I didn’t really even lose any sleep over it (pun intended).  No stomach?  Fine, I’ll just flip over.

Or so I thought.  See, as it turns out, when you start getting bigger, and your uterus becomes more heavy, sleeping on your back becomes dangerous.  Apparently, when you’re lying on your back, your uterus smashes the vena cava vein.  What’s the vena cava vein, you ask?  Well, I’ll tell you.  The vena cava vein supplies blood to your uterus and placenta, where the baby sleeps all warm and toasty.  Oh, and lest i forget to mention, it also supplies blood TO YOUR HEART.  Each night, as I snuggle down in my bed and drift off to sleep, I’m essentially cutting off my daughter’s and my life line.  Yeah, sleep tight now.

Needless to say, this changed my whole sleep positioning from that moment on.  Now, that wouldn’t seem like that big of a deal, except that I can’t sleep at all  now, for a couple of reasons.  One, I cannot, no matter how I try, get comfortable on my side.  I have body pillows to wedge me in, and still, nothing.  My arms fall asleep, I drool, it’s miserable.  Second, I have such a fear of lying on my back now, that any time I so much as start to roll onto my back, I wake up.  My eyes shoot open and I flip onto my side, hoping I wasn’t on my back long enough to cut off any blood supply.  It’s nerveracking.

Now, I realize that I’m probably overreacting a little.  I can’t imaging that 5 minutes on your back would be harmful at all.  I mean, I lay on my back at the doctor, right?  But now it’s in my head that I can’t sleep that way, so I’m screwed.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d go without sleep for the rest of my pregnancy if it meant keeping my baby girl safe and sound.  Fortunately, it doesn’t have to go that far.  For the time being, I’m going to try a few other positions: more pillows, sitting up, leaning on a pillow so I’m not lying flat.  Hopefully, something will work, because I obviously can’t go without sleep every night.  I can’t even tell you how miserable I would make the people I love.  At least I can rest (kinda) assured knowing that at least one of us is sleeping soundly.  And it’s the one that really counts.

When is it time to start monitoring what I say and what other say around my belly?  I mean, when can she hear me? 

I’ve read articles saying that babies can hear in utero anywhere from 14-30 weeks.  I’m almost 20 weeks.  So that would mean, assuming that she could hear at 14 weeks, my poor child has been subjected to very inappropriate language and subject matter for about 6 weeks.  I’m afraid I have a bit of a potty mouth, and I rather enjoy conversations about the off-color and ribald.  I knew I would eventually have to watch what I say around my child, I just didn’t anticipate it happening so soon. 

And then that begs the question: what about background noise?  Music, television, movies, etc.  Do I have to give up my Family Guy fun? (Tonight’s episode includes a barbershop quartet song about getting a vasectomy )  Or what if she isn’t a fan of Lady Gaga like her parents (yes, parents, my husband loves the Gaga)?  I realize that listening to her music everyday would be torturous if you weren’t a fan.  Am I damaging my poor child with synth-pop and tasteless humor?

I guess there’s no way of knowing for sure whether or not she can hear what’s going on in the outside world just yet.  In that case, it probably is best to err on the side of caution.  In the interest of being a good parent, I will do the following: whisper my curse words, watch Family Guy with a blanket wrapped around my tummy, and only listen to the good Gaga songs (who am I kidding, they’re all good, she’s just gonna have to deal).  And I ask my dear friends and family to show her the same courtesies, and watch your p’s and q’s around my belly.  You can whisper or write down the bad words so I can read them, I don’t think she can read my thoughts.  It may seem silly and unnecessary, but I certainly don’t want my child’s first word to be one that would get her a timeout.

My original theory was that because I was pregnant with a half Japanese child, I was actually smarter.  I had very specific examples of my increased intelligence, and I gotta tell you, I was really looking forward to the next 5 months and what they had in store in terms of increased brain power.  In my heart, I truly believed that the superior intelligence of my baby would keep me from the dreaded baby brain for my whole pregnancy.

Unfortunately, I’ve noticed a not-so-promising development over the past week or so.  As it turns out, I may not be getting smarter.  In fact, I may be getting dumber as we speak.  Now, I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy or the fatigue or the general lack of concentration, but something is afoot.

For example, I can’t remember anything.  Not just older events or memories, but anything really.  I couldn’t remember the name of my brother’s girlfriend the other day.  Not his ex-girlfriend or high school sweetheart, but his current girlfriend, who I’ve seen and spoken too and spent holidays with.  And I can’t very well call my brother up and ask him, that’s just rude.  And a couple of days ago my friends and I were talking about being electrocuted.  Except I couldn’t remember the word “electrocuted”, so I made up one that was the closest.  I came up with “electronacated”.  It’s not even a word, or anything resembling a word.  I can’t remember names, or words, or places, or people.  God forbid someone ask me for my phone number, I might have a small stroke trying to come up with it.

I know it goes with the territory, and it’s not so bad.  I have wonderful people around me who fill in the many, many blanks.  And I haven’t really started to forget important things like my husband’s name or where I live (I can just imagine that phone call home and the subsequent hospitilization).  Baby brain sounds so cute and innocuous.  But it’s really frustrating, and incredibly annoying.  And it’s my understanding that it gets even worse after the baby is born.  I imagine that all the new information you pick up is bound to push some stuff out.  Hopefully it comes back eventually.  Along with my waist line and ability to bend down.

Being a parent is the hardest job in the world.  My child hasn’t even been born yet and I know that.  There are a million and one things that I don’t know about raising a child, and I’m guessing that most first time parents feel the same way.  I have plenty of experience with children, from newborn on up, but clearly there’s a big difference between spending a couple of days with a kid and spending 24 hours of everyday with one.

That being said, I’d like to use this blog to go over some common sense parenting tips I’ve managed to pick up from my time in retail, of all places.  Again, my daughter is still in utero, and I don’t have any experience with shopping with children by myself, but I feel like these are pretty self explanatory.  I’m not making these up–everything listed here has happened to myself or someone I work with.

• It is not appropriate (or smart) to let your child run around a busy department store unsupervised while you shop (I can’t tell you how many times we’ve found a wandering kid and no parent, or a woman comes to us because she’s lost her child, but she found the perfect dress!)
• It is not appropriate (or smart again) to leave your child sitting on a chair at the entrance of a busy mall while you try on clothes in another part of the store.  You may as well cover your kid with honey and place them in a bear cage.
• Another incredibly inappropriate idea: letting your baby/toddler/small child crawl around on the floor of a busy store where literally hundreds of people walk around on a daily basis.  Even more inappropriate?  Letting your baby/toddler/small child suck on its dirty little fingers after crawling around on said floor.  Um, can anyone say swine flu?
• It is an amazingly bad idea to ask a complete stranger to watch your child while you try on clothes.  By complete stranger, I don’t mean someone who works in the store; that would be stupid, but not as stupid as asking someone who you’ve NEVER SEEN BEFORE to do it.  Kidnappers don’t generally wear signs advertising their sinister intentions.
• Another bad one: letting your child sit and crawl around on the counter, 5 feet off the ground, unsupervised.  The people who work in these stores are not trained in child safety and CPR–don’t test their skills.
• One final bad idea: hangers, discarded napkins, sensors, pennies/quarters/dimes/pesos, used gift cards, old pretzel bites dropped by some other messy kid.  What do all these items have in common?  Don’t know?  Let me tell you: these are all items that are really, really, REALLY bad things to let your kids put in their mouth.  Or even pick up, for that matter. 

I hope this post is helpful to someone out there.  I don’t proclaim to be any kind of parenting expert; on the contrary, I’m not even technically a parent yet.  But I am smart (Asian baby), and I do have a modicum of common sense, and I can tell you, I wouldn’t let my dog do any of the things I listed above.  And I think that’s a pretty good gauge: if it’s not good enough for your dog, it’s probably not good enough for your kid.

We all know that our environment is in the crapper; you can’t watch the news or read the newspaper without hearing or seeing something about global warming, carbon footprints, and greenhouse gases.  Nothing tugs at the heartstrings more than that picture of the polar bear floating away into obscurity on his pathetic little piece of ice flotilla.  But you know what?  It’s not easy being green (amen Kermit).  I’m sure we all wish we could be more environmentally sensitive; I’d like to recycle everything, grow my own vegetables, drive an electric car, and have a nice big compost heap.  But I don’t have that kind of time.  Or money.  Or dedication.  All in all, what I do have is a plastic water bottle and a lot of excuses.

But something has happened since I got pregnant.  I started to realize that my carbon footprints will be inherited by the next generation.  Which just so happens to include MY daughter.  And that is something I’m not ok with.  So, I went a little overboard.  I declared (a bit prematurely I’m afraid) that in an effort to minimize my family’s carbon impact on the Earth, we would be using cloth diapers.  Now, having virtually no experience with diapers and their accoutrement’s (aside from the occasional change of a niece or nephew), I didn’t really understand what the big deal was.  I mean, why wouldn’t you use cloth diapers?  There are services that pick them up and drop off clean ones, you don’t need safety pins anymore, and they have a minuscule environmental impact compared to disposables.  Win-win, right?  But then you start to wonder, what happens to a dirty (I mean DIRTY) diaper when you’re waiting for your pickup?  Do you just…leave it in there?  I wouldn’t think so.  Do you flush the contents?  Do you have to prewash them before they’re picked up?  See, the beauty of disposables is that all the unpleasantness gets wrapped up and placed in your Diaper Genie, out of sight out of mind.  There’s no question of, um, waste disposal.

But as convenient as they are, there is no argument that disposable diapers are detrimental to our environment.  The average child in disposable diapers will contribute 1000 pounds of non-biodegradable waste to the world’s landfills.  So what’s a parent to do?  Sacrifice convenience for the good of the environment?  Scoop poop from cloth diapers in the name of being green?  Thankfully, I’ve done my research: there are other alternatives available to parents who want the convenience of disposables without the the guilt of destroying the polar bear’s home.  Apparently, Seventh Generation makes a biodegradable diaper, and a company out of England called Bambo has 100% all natural, chemical-free, biodegradable diapers that will soon be available here (damn those British, always one step ahead).  There are even flush-able diapers (again, that would seem to involve some sort of scrapping, so clearly not for everyone).  

The good news is, I don’t have to start an extra large compost heap to make up for all the diapers I’ll throw away.  I can have convenience and peace of mind.  Although, I may start an extra large compost heap anyway.  I gotta say, the idea is kind of intriguing.  No?  Maybe it’s just me.  I’m sure the polar bears sure appreciate it though.

Finding out you’re pregnant is a life changing event.  One day, you’re going about your business, eating whatever, staying up late, having wine with dinner.  Then, boom!, say good-bye to that.  All of the sudden, it’s balanced diets, sleep at a decent hour, and 5 vitamins a day.  There are a ton of external changes you make once you find out you’re having a baby.  But the funny thing is, as many changes as you make to your lifestyle, in the beginning, you don’t really feel different.

Yes, you feel some new things (see blog entry “What They Don’t Tell You…), but it’s sort of anti-climactic at first.  You walk around, and you have this huge new part of you, and no one else knows.  You don’t show at first, there’s no neon sign over your head screaming PREGNANT!!!.  So in a way, it doesn’t feel real yet.  Even after you see the baby on your first ultrasound (ours was at 4 weeks or so, the most beautiful little dot ever), there’s almost a disconnect from you and what’s going on inside you.  It starts to become real once you start showing, and share your wonderful news with friends and family, but it’s still hard to believe you actually have a baby growing inside your abdomen.  And then, your baby moves.  And everything comes into focus.

I felt the baby move for the first time last night.  I was laying on the couch with my still sick but recovering husband, watching a movie, and I felt what I can only describe as someone poking my tummy from the inside out.  It went on for a few minutes, and then turned into sort of a fluttering feeling that came and went.  I felt her again before I fell asleep, and then several times throughout the day today.  Now, I have known I was pregnant since about 2 weeks after we conceived .  Every day of my life is consumed with thoughts of my pregnancy and the baby, and has been for the past four and a half months.  And my initial reaction last night was “Holy Crap, there is a baby inside of me”.  Until I felt her move, she was sort of abstract.  I knew she was in there, but not in a real, tangible way.  Last night, my baby girl said hello.

Thomas was equally excited about her movement.  As soon as I said she was moving, he put his hand on my tummy   Unfortunately, I’m the only one that will be able to feel her for the next month or so.  So I’ll just have to perfect my play-by-play for everyone.  I’ll be the Bob Costas of fetal movement broadcasting.  Or someone less creepy.

So, I woke up this morning to get ready for work, and my poor husband informs me that he’s been up all night throwing up.  Yes, I was asleep all night while he was violently ill, but in my defense, he didn’t wake me up, and I was very tired.

So I stayed home from work, and did my best to take care of him and make him feel better.  I ran him a hot bath, rubbed his back while he vomited, and went to Ralphs to get him ginger ale and sorbet.  There really wasn’t much I could do, seeing as how he slept for most of the day once he stopped throwing up, but I like to think that I helped in some small way. 

Now, I’m an awful patient.  I mean, when I’m sick, I expect the world to stop and everyone to drop what they’re doing and take care of me (feel free to pity my husband right now).  When someone else is sick, like Thomas, I tend to still want everyone to drop what they’re doing and take care of me.  So I’m also an awful caregiver.  But I felt a change today.  Seeing Tom sick made me really sad, and I wanted to take care of him.  I felt (gasp) maternal.  I realized that once our baby girl is born, making her feel better will become my life’s work.  And should she get sick, I will do whatever I can to make it go away.  So in a weird way, Tom was my newborn daughter today, and I was just practicing being a good Mom.  I really hope I did a good job.

On the plus side, I asked Tom if he was hungry this evening after he kept some ginger ale down, and he said yes, so I offered to make him soup or bland noodles or mashed potatoes or eggs.  He wanted Cheezits.  I think he’s gonna be just fine.