Gender Predictions and Other Falsehoods

Update: Two posts ago I wrote about falling out of P's bed.  I had a rug burn on my knee. The other day P saw it and said, "Mommy boo boo.  I kiss it." Then he ran upstairs, got a jar of Vaseline, came back downstairs with it and smeared about 3 tablespoons worth on my knee.  THE SWEETEST!!!

Now that I know I am having a girl, I can say the Chinese Birth Chart predictor is 0 for 2 with the Phillips family.  According to the chart Parker was suppose to be a girl and Peyton was slated to be a boy.

A few weeks ago, I took this gender prediction test online.  I had Josh running all over the house fetching thread from which to hang my wedding ring and other seemingly random household items. 

I answered questions about the size and shape of my belly (huge and lumpy. Confession: I do not have a pretty pregnant belly.  It is large, white and there is a bump that runs east the west the entire girth of
my ever expanding abdomen). 

More questions about what I was craving- turkey sandwiches with tomato and avocado and any form of salad. Apparently girl babies crave sweets and boy babies crave salty.  For me, the opposite is true.

Where I carry the bulk of my pregnancy weight- everywhere.

The results came back as 48% chance the baby was a girl and 52% chance I was
pregnant with a boy. I passed this news onto Josh and he said, "So, it's a 50/50 chance we are having either a boy or a girl."

There were two tricks though that came back correct for both my babies. If you ask a pregnant lady to show you her hands and she presents them palm down, it's a girl.  Palm up? She’s having a boy. Spot on with both of my kiddos.

The other trick is if you add the month you conceived and the age you were when you conceived and get the number down to a single digit you can predict the gender.  If the single digit is even- it's a girl if you get an odd number you are having a boy. 

For example: I got pregnant in October (10) when I was 30 years old.
10+30= 40
4+0=4
Four is an even number, so I am having a girl!

A friend once told me if the mom is carrying a boy she glows more than usual. Her hair is luscious and thick and her nails are strong.  When mama is carrying a baby girl, the tot steals the mom's beauty, leaving the mom looking...less than in all categories.  It should be noted my friend put it much nicer.

I have to say, so far this is true.  I feel so gross.  My hair is greasy the moment it dries after I wash it.  Pre-pregnancy I could go 2 or 3 days without washing it, especially in the winter- I have a ton of hair.  My skin looks terrible.  I'm not one who usually breaks out, but I feel like my face is one big festering zit at the moment.  Seriously the Proactiv commercials are looking more and more like a reality to me right now.

My babe is growing growing growing and that makes me happy.  I'm more than half way through my pregnancy, which blows my mind.  That first trimester crept along, but I'm riding the gravy train of the second trimester and soaking it all in.

The First of (Many) Firsts

I caved.  Today I purchased Peyton's first outfit.  Behold:

Klutz

I am not a klutz in the way that some people are.

I don't really trip over my own feet on a regular basis or walk into walls as I am turning to leave a room, but it seems about once a year I do something profoundly klutzy that overshadows the nonklutziness of the rest of the year.

When I was in 6th grade I rode my bike into a parked car.  I broke my arm and slammed my mouth so hard into the side of the car that my lip stuck to 2 of the brackets on my braces.  After hours of  wiggling my mouth, I was able to pry my lip from the brackets.
My top lip was so swollen, the next day at school people hardly noticed the cast on my arm and instead were focused on my fat lip.

In 9th grade I went to a new school in a new town where I knew no one.  During gym one day, I ran head first into the bleachers.  I came to with the whole class standing over me.

My first real job out of college was for an elected official.  On a clear blue Tuesday morning I was walking to my office from my car and fell.  My hands were full, so I smashed my entire body, including my face, onto the asphalt parking lot.  A stranger helped me gather my lunch that had been flung from the bag that once contained it.  I staggered back to my car and, holding a Diet Coke can on my head, drove the 30 miles home. My roommate was still home because it was still pretty early in the day.  When she saw me she started crying because she thought I was mugged. 
I worked with a lot of cops and they thought I had actually been beat up.  They told me that if Josh was hitting me and I needed help I just needed to let them know.  (Those who know Josh find this very funny.  Of the two of us, I am probably more scrappy than him, despite the fact that he plays rugby.)

Which brings me to the events of last night.  Parker is on the tail end of the cold I was fighting last week.  Last night he was having a coughing fit and calling for me. 

The sucker that I am, I shuffled into his room and laid down with him for a few minutes. 

His bed is about, oh I don't know, how long are beds? Six feet long.  If that is true, then his bed rail is about five long, leaving a foot long gap at the bottom of his bed for general comings and goings.  We also have a foot stool on the floor at the bottom of the opening to optimize the safety and accesibility.  The bed itself is also pushed right up against the wall.  The only way in and out is through the opening.

Even with all of these things in place, I managed to fall out of his bed.  I wish I could say the room was pitch black.  I wish I could say my hair was on fire and I was distracted in my efforts to leave the room safely. 
None of these excuses apply. 

I just fell right out. 

I am now a 30 year old pregnant woman with rug burn on my right knee and left elbow and a bruise on my hip.

Parker did not flinch a bit.  Josh came bounding into the room.  I laid on the floor like a dead bug.
This is my second minor fall during this pregnancy.  I sure hope Peyton comes with a helmet.

Depends

I have a terrible cold.  Since I am also 18 weeks pregnant, I cannot not really take anything aside from Tylenol, which is a marginal cold remedy at best.

My doctor told me I can take Robitussin, but I just feel like that stuff is straight up poison, pregnant or not.  Nothing should taste that awful.  On Monday night I coughed, a gut retching from your toes, cough for 3 hours. 

I blow my nose and I swear the snot is coming from the deep recesses of my brain.  I can feel it draining from behind my eyes and ears.  Somehow I swear my pants fit better after I release the phlegm- there's just that much.

Because of these reasons, I do choke down a bit of the Tussin, every night so I can pass out through a majority of the evening. 

Another attractive side effect of this cold is I am coughing my face off throughout the day and since I am pregnant, that means I pee my pants a little with every hack. Bliss.

I have taken to wearing appropriate protection that only a maxi pad can provide, but eventually I am going to run out.  Then what?  Pull Ups for Parker and Depends for Mommy.  Classy.

So now, Josh and Parker have both caught the cold.  Parker is taking it like a champ.  Although, he did just have a tantrum because I made him throw away his snotty tissue instead of placing it on the kitchen table. 

Josh will of course be suffering the effects of this cold well into 2015.

On Thursday, despite our unhealthy condition, Josh and I headed to the specialist for our healthy baby  check appointment.  We had a few funky test results, that coupled with all the issues P had when he was born, my doc sent us to a specialist and a Genetic Counselor in a neighboring town, just to be safe.

The baby is measuring exactly on track with where it should be at this point in the pregnancy.  The baby's diaphragm appears to be completely in tact- yea!  The doctor even called my baby beautiful- naturally.

The tech asked us if we wanted to know the gender.

"YES!"

"Congrats, it's a girl!"

Josh was so excited.  He said, "IT'S A GIRL!? Really? Wow! I never thought I'd have a girl!  It's a girl!!"
I asked the tech to show me how she knew this was a baby girl, she showed me and moved onto the next thing she needed to lcheck and measure.  I said, "Wait, can you double check that it's a girl?  I have sisters who have shopping trips planned and I'd hate to disappoint." 

She double checked and yep- still a girl.

Then the doctor came in and again confirmed that it's a girl!

He told me I had "Venus Lakes" in my uterus, which are nothing more than swirly parts.  Sometimes they can hinder the baby's growth, but mine are super small, so he is not concerned.  I have another appointment with him in a month to just double check the double checking.

A few weeks ago I read an article that said when most pregnant women are asked if they have a preference, boy or girl, most answer, "Oh, it does not matter as long as it's healthy!" However, in reality, they have a gender preference in mind. 

Parker had such a tough beginning.  I went into that whole thing naively thinking that since I was healthy the baby would be a-ok and the delivery would easy breezy (well as much as labor can be).  This time around, I found it hard to let my guard down and get to attached to anything about this baby.  I was excited to be pregnant.  I wanted this to happen, but I was feeling a little apprehensive.  I did not want that rug pulled out from under me again.  Not caring about gender at all, I just wanted my new baby to be healthy. 

She is healthy.  I'm in love all over again.  I can tell Parker he will have a little sister, not just the abstract idea of a new baby.

At this point for names we are leaning toward Peyton Angel Phillips.  Angel is a family name and my daughter will be the 5th generation.

Cheers to our happy healthy Phillips Family of Four.

Snow Day

We have not had a ton of snow in our area, but for someone who is not a winter person, we have had enough. 

The other day I was shoveling the driveway because I just needed to get the heck out of the house. Parker happily put on his new boots to stomp around in the snow as I shoveled.  He enjoys that crutch noise fresh snow makes. 

That is, he enjoys it for about 8 minutes until the cold sets in.  Our driveway is not that big, I think I had the whole thing done in 20 minutes, but in that time Pman decided the fun was over and opted to sit on the porch and cry until I finished. Very unproductive.

I understand his feelings though.  We are beach people, summer babies, happiest in our sandy bathing suits in the hot sun.  So the cold weather keeps us mostly inside.  Which leads to...games (?) like this:

That is our washing machine.  He was pretending to be Oscar the Grouch and begged to sit in the laundry basket.

Thank God that famous groundhog in Pennsylvania did NOT see his shadow! Come on spring.

Ewwwwkward

Seriously, this post is not for the squeamish or those uncomfortable with anything related to the inner workings of a uterus.

When I am pregnant I am dumb.  I cannot remember anything and formulating a cohesive thought and turning it into a sentence, takes many hours of extensive brain power.

So when I went to my first OBGYN appointment and she asked, "What was the date of your late period?"  I had no idea.  I knew the question was coming, they ask it whether you are pregnant or not.  I could not remember. 

The most perplexing thing is that I had to know that date, so I could do the proper counting of ovulation days, which lead to me getting pregnant in the first place.  But there I was in the office with no date in mind.

I have an understanding and amazing doc and she did a quick in-office sonogram and said it looked like I was about 10 weeks, but she needed to be exactly sure.  I want to have a scheduled c-section for many reasons I may explore in this blog later.

In order to properly schedule the c-section, we needed to know exactly when I got pregnant and exactly when I will be due.  My doc gave me a referral for a sonogram and told me to schedule it as quickly as possible, which ended up being 2 days later.  Josh could not get off work and since my mom was not able to come to any of Pman's sono's I invited her to come with me to see the first official glimpse of baby #2.

No worries, Josh was there when the doc did the in-office sono.

The day of the appointment came and my mom and I were called back into the room.  Since I had one of these with Parker, I was not concerned about any weirdness.  It was going to be a simple external, meaning wand on the tummy, sonogram. 

It is important for you to know, I am not a person who wanted anyone in the delivery room other than the necessary medical staff and Josh.  I'm a private about my privates.

A little jelly on the belly, pants around the hips, all lady parts covered.  Done and done.

For the first portion of the sonogram, that is all that happened.  Then the lady handed me a less than sturdy paper sheet and said, "You can use the bathroom [located in the room] and then remove all your clothes from the waist down.  Just wrap the sheet around you."

Huh?

I went in the restroom and, in a state of shock, did as I was told.

I came back out  to the room and basically moonwalked over to the table so as to not flash my oversized, pale pregnant rear in my mom's direction.  Honestly, it would have been blinding.

I tried (desperately) to talk my mom into standing next to my head instead of sitting in the chair at the business end of things.  If she stood though, she would not have seen anything on the screen.  The room was dark and there was a sheet and this is specifically why I invited her- to see the baby.  The sono lady assured me that I was fully covered and my mom could not see anything. 

Then she pulled out a large wand.  She motioned, with the wand, in the direction of the sheet, and said, "I'm going to hand this to you and insert it like you would a tampon."  She said tampon, but come on, I have never used or even seen a tampon the size of my forearm.  It is not like inserting a tampon.

And also, LADY!? MY MOM IS. RIGHT. HERE!!!
Couldn't I just swallow the wand or something?  There has to be another way to make this happen. 

Alas, there was not. 

With no other options, I followed the instructions.  I totally forgot about any awkwardness when a clear picture of my little bean popped up on the screen.

Truth be told, the sheet really did go to my ankles, my mom was totally fixated on the screen and we never spoke of 'the indecent incident', thankfully.  I was so happy she was able to come with me to the appointment, not because I thought anything would be wrong, but because this is something unique to this baby. 

Growing up in a large family taught me that different kids require different things.  As parent's you can try to keep things even-Stevens, but in the end, that is not typically possible.  Each child will have their own desires, needs and experiences. It is up to me as the mommy to make sure they celebrate their own successes, as well as, the accomplishments of their siblings. 

Parker has a special relationship with my parents and I know this new baby will too.

Stories From the First Trimester

Ok, it's Facebook official, the cat is out of the bag- so the speak- and all
the beans have been spilled. 

You all know I am pregnant with baby #2- yea, squee and all that.

I'm here to tell you that the first trimester is a killer.  I'm also here to tell you that just because the first trimester is technically over, that does not mean the narcolepsy and nausea are ready to bid adieu.

I consistently puke about once a week while I brush my teeth, which is the true definition of counterproductive. 

Throughout the first trimester I developed an unnatural love/hate relationship with Dora the Explorer.  I'm not sure how it happened, but Parker has developed quite a crush on her and wants to watch Dora all the time.  Thankfully, she had a Christmas special On Demand that was perfectly timed with first trimester.  When it was time for my daily afternoon pass-out session, I am sad to admit, I would plop a happy Pman in my bed with me, click on the 47 minute long Dora special and go to sleep.

My SweetP would let me just snooze away.  I would wake up just as Swiper saw the errors of his ways, cue theme music, time to drag myself downstairs to heat up, or possibly even cook, dinner.  Because of this, one of P's new favorite things to say is, "Mommy is tired."  Wonder where he picked that up...

His other favorite thing to say is, "Mommyissick."  Perhaps this is because of one particular rainy Tuesday morning.

As I pulled the car out the driveway, I felt the wave of ick come over me.  I cracked the window, turned down the radio and tried to focus on the road.  I was driving P to school, which is only about 10 miles from my house. 

I was chanting in my head,"I can do this." 

I was going to be sick, there was no doubt about it, but I wanted to just get him in to his school, without seeing me get sick.  He has seen me puke once, when I had a terrible flu and it scared him.

When I was about 3 miles from his school, I realized in fact, could not do 'this.' 

I looked around for a puke receptacle and came up with a mini Pringle's potato chip can.  I tossed the remaining chip crumbs on the street, pulled over in a stranger's driveway and puked my face off.

The chain of events went like this: I would do what I needed to do into the chip can, dump it onto the driveway, wipe my mouth with my sleeve and repeat.  The dumping portion was because the can was small and I certainly did not want an overflow situation.

When it was all done, I peered at my PreciousP through the rearview mirror.  With a snotty nose, bloodshot watery eyes, and puke breath, I turned to face my little guy and said, "Are you ok?"

If he had the word they would have been, "What the HELL was that? Are you ok?"

So there I was reeking of breakfast in reverse, dropping my 2 year old off at school.  I fear his teachers thought I was on some kind of inappropriate morning bender driving my son to school. 

That's right, I did not explain my wayward appearance or stench, it would have taken too much energy and I certainly did not need to give a repeat performance to a larger audience.