The First Fart

James & Little Dude: Two monkeys with their tongues out!

I know that many assumptions and conclusions may be drawn from the title of this post, so please allow me a minute to preface with the following facts:

1. My husband has never heard me fart. Though if asked, he will say I have done so in my sleep, but I still feel we shouldn't be held responsible for anything we say or do in our sleep.

2. I have simply never been a gassy person. It's just the fact of the matter. Never been an issue, and I have literally never let one slip out loud in the presence of another human being...accidentally or otherwise.

3. I am so uncomfortable with the thought of being a gassy person, I can't even call it being gassy when I do feel that way. We have a word in our house for it. Airy. There is something more respectable about that. It implies no scent or byproduct. It is simply the normal, biological feeling of having air built up inside. 

With that being said...

I am in my ninth month of pregnancy, and with that comes an enormous amount of new discomforts. One being that the child beast inside of me seems to have hit a growth spurt last month and makes me feel more walrus-like than ever. Huge. Epically. After 30 minutes of walking around Ikea or The Container Store I feel nauseous because of the deep pain in my back, my puffy feet feel like I'm walking on a ridged cobblestone road barefoot, and the little dude's head is constantly pushing down on my bladder, making it absolutely necessary to pee every 30 minutes (if I'm lucky). 

In addition it means everything in my middle section is becoming even more cramped and crowded. So you can imagine how air may get trapped or pushed around as the baby settles in and even more so when he decides it's time to participate in his own little womb aerobics class. 

Which brings me to Target. There I was, walking around the baby section looking for a crib skirt for little dude's basically completed nursery (yay!). When out of nowhere, I hear a noise. A quick, but almost certain fart. Out loud. It scared the hell out of me. I looked around and there was no one to be seen...unless they were hiding in the aisles pointing and laughing at the helpless pregnant lady. Yes it was me. That sound came from me. I could not believe it. I had no idea it was coming, and you'd think I'd have some warning or some control. But no, nothing. No feeling of being...airy. No warning of the impending inevitability of a release. It just happened. And I could do nothing but freeze in panic, for fear another step would lead to an equally horrifying and startling sound. And there I stood, the lady who previously snickered at the two pregnant ladies who farted during our childbirth class, having experienced the same. In a Target. My usual place of comfort. A sanctuary of spending and solice. And yet on this day, it became the place that I first farted out loud. 

I guess more than anything, this is a confession and a request to all of you who maintain the control of your inner workings, to withhold judgement and extend understanding, as we, the mighty pregnant ladies, are being seriously squished inside. 

Less than a month to go!

Birth Class, Smirth Class. Help me!

It's taken me a couple of weeks, but now, after coming to terms with what I experienced in our first two birth classes, I am ready to share. As we arrived at the first class, we sat in the room with eight other couples, I was sweating and my heart was racing. I think the fact that I knew I would soon be facing the truth about having to get this child out of me, struck me with fear. It's easy to ignore the inevitable labor and delivery process of pregnancy, that is until you attend a birth class. 

Us with 6 Weeks to go!

The teacher started with some questions about what we think we can do when we are in a painful or stressful situation. My husband, who out of nowhere became a star student, answered with "Breathing." The first and only person to volunteer an answer, and an answer that the teacher liked. I mumbled to him, "swearing." I tend to reconnect with my smart-ass nature when in a school/classroom setting. When no one else volunteered with answers, James shouts out, "My wife says swearing." Thanks babe. 

Apparently that answer wasn't what she was looking for, so she changed it to "vocalizations." Well it works for me...if I am in a painful or stressful situation, swearing is my go-to on dealing with it. Anyway, moving on. We now had to watch many labor/birth videos, all of which I believe were without medication and pain killers. Which is absolutely frightening and uncomfortable. I respect everyone's individual choices, and I am not ashamed to say that I will be welcoming the drugs. Throughout the videos my heart was racing, my vision was blurred, I truly felt as if I might pass out. 

Everyone talks about how beautiful the birthing process is. And I hate to be the only person on this planet who, after watching these videos, does not fully align with that sentiment. I am amazed and in awe that my body and my babies body knows exactly what to do; throughout the pregnancy and the labor/delivery. And yes it is a miracle, a biological wonder, a perfected process that all falls into place. But I have yet to watch a birthing video and felt that it was beautiful. The women look miserable, the baby coming out is quite frightening and alien-esque, and the goop is abundant. But don't get me wrong, the second they set the baby on the mom and the parents are so excited, I tear up and realize that it is all worth it. That is the beautiful part. Being able to hold the child you've only felt from the inside and only seen through an ultra sound. That will be our magic moment. 

Handsome Little Dude smiling and laughing already. 

Luckily my husband and I are pretty much on the same page with it all. He doesnt want to see what's going on and will stay at the head of the bed with me. He doesnt want to cut the umbilical chord, see the baby crown, or check out the placenta. Much like I don't want a mirror or video camera facing my lady parts. One of the birth videos in our second class, showed the husband catching and pulling the baby out, to which James immediately leans over and whispers, "Hell no, I'm not doing that! Leaving that to the experts." It was surprising, it looked like the dad was going to pull the kids head off and if that happened, that would be a serious mood killer. 

A part of me feels like I rather just roll with the punches. The kid is coming out one way or another and I feel like I am being over prepared. It is quite overwhelming and I have found myself dizzy and out of breath while watching the labor and birth videos. I've made sure to bookmark the page in our birth class book about what to do when a laboring mom panics. Yes, this may be applicable to me and James has already memorized the column about what the partner can do to help. 

We've got six weeks until our super little dude's due date and we are getting more and more excited each day. He moves around like crazy, and my stomach is growing at an i-just-ate-a-cake-and-didnt-share-it kind of pace. Well, that's the way it feels at least. 

blood tests and brownies

It's been months since I've baked. I don't know what caused me to take a sabbatical on the baked goods, or at least those that I made myself. Maybe it was the mental preoccupation about strollers, and nursery rugs, and breast pumps, and a growing belly. Well, the reasons are neither here nor there, the homemade baked goods sabbatical has ended. I made brownies yesterday. Amazing, delicious, perfect brownies. Chocolatey, fudgy, chewy brownies, with marshmallow puff stuff mixed into the batter. It's my [not-so] secret ingredient. 

I had my 1-hour Glucose Tolerance Test last week. For those that don't know what this is, it's a test done around your 25th-28th week of pregnancy that tests you for Gestational Diabetes (eek!). I wasn't allowed to eat or drink for 2 hours prior to my test, I came in and had to drink about 6 oz of a flat-extra-sugary-orange-soda type glucose concoction. It actually wasn't that bad, I was pleasantly surprised as most of the women on the pregnancy websites talk about how miserable it was. And then I sat and waited for an hour before they drew my blood...once again. I've never had so much blood taken in a 6 month period of my life before. Basically, if your numbers aren't "normal" they have you come in for a 3-hour test (ick!) before finding out if you have GD or not. My biggest fear was having to do the 3-hour test and go hours without food and hours sitting in a waiting room. That seemed to be just about the most miserable thing I could imagine. It was never a worry about having GD. I get it, my priorities are mixed up. Take away my food and my comfort, I kill you. I got the call yesterday and all my results were normal! Yay! And I was then happily on my way to get the makings for brownies. 

I will never be made to feel bad about my decisions, especially my decisions during my pregnancy. I have been doing so well, I have been making balanced choices, keeping myself active and all of the results from both myself and the baby have been wonderful! I have never and will never claim to be the healthiest person around. That's just not me, and I have no desire for it to ever be me. I love the food I love too much. It gives me pure joy. So be it, I say. The moral of this somewhat defensive rant is...I ate a brownie this morning, and I might have another one before the day is over. Simply because I deserve it. 

Baby will be here in 11 weeks! I cannot believe it. 

Oh yeah..forgot to mention..there's a baby in my belly.

'Tis so. 

The Coops are procreating, and a powerful and super creation we expect it to be. Now, at nearly 17 weeks along, the guilt and empty hole of bloglessness has set in. I'll give you the short of the long, or at least I'll attempt to do so as I encapsulate the new, crazy, challenging, and amazing bits of the adventure thus far.

We found out in late November, well I found out and absolutely melted with excitement when sharing with the Mr., that we would be welcoming a baby into our lives this summer. And so it began, the endless thoughts, dreams, lists, ideas, wonders of what was to come...for the rest of our lives. 

At week 5 my personal living hell began. But, with the most amazing husband and family to support me in positive thoughts, I was constantly reminded, through the puking and misery, that this meant it was a strong pregnancy. Extra hormones helping baby to grow. 

DiRuscio's on Christmas

Christmas with Mr Coop

Eatin' Candy Hike

Sugar Bowl at Super Dome NOLA

I got a brief and unexpected ten day relief from the sickness from Christmas Eve through the New Year, allowing me to enjoy a hike with friends, the holidays with the family, our first doctor appointment hearing the strong heartbeat of our little monkey, and our trip to New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl.

 And suddenly it returned, though all my hopes were that it had forever passed. Another 5 weeks of throwing up, exhaustion, and overall ickyness. Waiting for that day everyone talked about, where everything was suddenly better, while also fearing it would NEVER go away. And then it happened...the day before I was 14 weeks along. I no longer wanted to stay in bed all day. I no longer dreaded eating. I no longer threw up. What?! It had passed, it was fantastic. 

And well, that pretty much brings us to now. I am about 17 weeks along, I haven't thrown up in three weeks, I have a little bit more energy, and I have just gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight (lost a bit in the first trimester with all the sickness). Oh yeah, and at our last appointment we found out that we are having a boy! Pretty sweet deal, we are over the moon excited and already love our little dude so much. 

I have a slight baby bump, but it's the at the awkward cant-tell-if-it's-a-pouch-or-baby-bump phase, so I try to do that pregnant lady thing where I rest my hand on it every once in a while to signify that it's my baby in there, not my lunch. Because I'm neurotic. Or ridiculous for even caring that I look slightly bloated. Even though I know that I am growing a freaking human being in my body! It's absolutely mind blowing, and strange, and amazing. 

Way too many stories to share, or things I've experienced. Here's just a few new realities I am faced with. 

1. "Oops I just peed a little" is no longer a joke to express how hard you just laughed. No, it's life. Real life. A sneeze, cough, or laugh does it. That along with having to pee every 30 minutes leaves me with a new awareness of where the nearest bathroom is at all times.

2. I would not be alive if it weren't for my awesome husband. My first trimester left me in bed ALL day, except when my head was in the toilet. I was weak, tired, sick, and generally an absolute mess. He would bring me food, he would go to work, he would wash dishes, he wouldn't judge me for not showering for days on end, he didnt get grossed out when I threw up into plastic bags while we were in the car - every time, he listened when I had emotional breakdowns. I am forever grateful for his patience, strength, and power to make me laugh through the tears and smile through the struggle. Couldn't have a better partner in life, seriously amazed by this man.

3. There is no longer any space in my mind for thoughts other than the baby's clothes, the baby's nursery, the baby's health, the baby's arrival, all the fun things we have planned to do with our baby, etc, etc. We talk to my stomach to the baby. He seriously is already the center of our world. It's crazy the instincts that kick in and the mushy love stuff that inevitably just appears when you have a baby on the way. 

8.1.12