Wednesday, April 29, 2009

things i have learned about pregnancy in the last week

1. When you KNOW you are pregnant, you suddenly start to notice all of those little symptoms more than when you were (maybe happily) in the dark. For instance, is it coincidental that now even the mere thought of hamburgers makes me get all watery-mouthed and gaggy? Joe thinks I'm trying to milk it a little (no baby pun intended), but really I am just suddenly very much aware of my body in a way that I never have been before.

2. That baby is growing FAST! From last week, it has grown from the size of a prune (which is kinda gross, if you ask me) to a plum. Also, it's weird that there is something the size of a plum moving around inside of me and I can't feel it yet.

3. Babies are measured by produce. On every website, in every book. Baby = fruits and veggies. A friend of mine has actually made a cute little pregnancy calendar following your baby through the produce department of your local Kroger. (She also does paintings and murals... check her out!)

4. I have to go to the bathroom all. the. time. It's annoying. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that normally I have a bladder of steel. I used to go in the morning and then not again until after school. Now, I feel like I need to set up a little cot in there some night. I hear that this will go away and then come back EVEN WORSE. I will add that to my list of things to look forward to.

5. Joe is not interested in talking about the baby all the time. He is actually capable of thinking of something else for hours, if not DAYS, at a time. I think something may be wrong with him.

6. I, on the other hand, am always willing to talk about the baby. For instance, did you know that at this point the baby has fully developed all of its internal systems and now just uses the rest of the 28 weeks to mature and grow like crazy? And, oh yeah, I think I'm going to use yellow and grey for the nursery. Speaking of nursery, how early do you think I should look at getting furniture? And should it be white or dark wood? Oh, that reminds me that I need to make a list of things to ask my o.b. at our next appointment...

Thursday, April 23, 2009

weblink... thursday?

So, I was a bit distracted yesterday (see previous post) and forgot that I actually did have a pretty good link for Weblink Wednesday. Someone sent this along through the Pawtropolis email list, and I thought it was hysterical and very heart-warming. I mean, really... what a cute couple.


Yesterday I went in for my follow up appointment with my ob/gyn. Apparently my lab results had come back showing some oddly high hormone levels that they couldn't explain. The nurse practitioner that I had been seeing didn't really explain to me what they would be looking for, just that I would see Dr Goggin for the first time in order to get an ultrasound of my ovaries. So, needless to say I was very nervous as I waited for him to come into the ultrasound room (which was humongous, by the way). When he finally came in, he explained to me that they were looking for what they call a "zebra" in the medical world. The metaphor is that if you hear hoofbeats behind you, most people assume it's a horse, but every now and again it might be a zebra. My particular zebra was an estrogen producing tumor on my ovaries. Dr. Goggin assured me that he did not actually expect one to be there, but he wanted to rule it out (that was where I stopped listening and started imagining my horrible death at the age of 25). So I climbed up on the table, pulled up my shirt and waited anxiously as he got me ready for the ultrasound (goo and all). As soon as the little gizmo touched my skin, he pulled it back and started laughing. In my head, I was still figuring out the logisitics of my funeral and so failed to see the humor of the situation. He explained that it was "not exactly a tumor", but that I was, in fact, pregnant.



I think I asked him (through streaming tears) if he was kidding about 8 times. Even after he put the gizmo back on my gooey belly and showed me the little peanut. I watched the rest of the ultrasound through my hands over my face, still crying, still occasionally making sure this wasn't some awful elaborate prank. Dr. Goggin was still laughing and shaking his head, claiming to be the worst ob/gyn EVER... a young woman comes in with no periods and high estrogen and OF COURSE it must be a tumor.

I think we all got so fixated on my non-pregnancy as a fact that no one, including myself, ever considered taking another pregancy test. Although, I figure now that I could have ovulated (and did, obviously) at any point, since I didn't have a regular cycle. Ironically, it was probably the week after I took my last negative test that I actually did get pregnant. So when I went in for my first appointment, I told them I had just taken a number of negative tests, all negative, so there was no need to give me another. Go figure.

So all of this mean that I am now nearly through my first trimester (!!!). Everyone keeps asking me if I didn't notice any symptoms or changes... and I just don't think they understand how sure I was that I was not pregnant. And that it was going to be a challenge to GET pregnant. So sure, looking back now, I can see that certain things were probably symptoms. And it certainly explains why the waistbands of my jeans have been getting snug in the last few weeks. But nothing was so severe that I couldn't dismiss it or ignore it. Which I guess means I have been lucky... no major morning sickness, no crippling exhaustion, no aches and pains. I'm hoping that is a forecast for an easy pregnancy!

It is not many people, I am sure, that go from expecting to find the worst to seeing the best. The flip-flop my brain had to do from tumor to baby was tremendous, and the moment that I saw my first child was completely surreal and nearly incomprehensible. The shock is wearing off, but slowly. One of the nice parts about discovering Little Tumor so late into the pregnancy is that I have already been able to share this joy and amazement with so many of my friends and family. Needless to say, I definitely have a new moment to add to the "best moments of my life" list.

And I can't wait to meet our Little Tumor in person in November!

Saturday, April 18, 2009


So Joe has made me all itchy and nervous about a comment he made when reading some of my past blog entries. Apparently I sound mean and embittered about recital. So I want to clarify that I do, in fact, really enjoy recital. As a performer as well as a teacher, I love being backstage and feeling the excitement of my students as they prepare for their huge and supportive audience. I love the faces of their parents as they come backstage looking for them (while we frantically try to get them to follow a very confusing map of arrows to get out of the downstairs labyrinth where we keep their little superstars). I even love the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the pre-show craziness, where the other teachers, the office manager and I try to put up enough signs that no parent could possibly get confused. When I refer to recital as a "monstrosity", I am referring solely to the fact that it is a HUGE endeavor. With literally hundreds of kids, plus parent volunteers, plus teachers, plus Classic Center staff, it gets a little crowded even in such a large and beautiful venue. It's like a feat of engineering for Lucy (office manager extraordinaire) to figure out where each class will stay during the show without having 50 kids to a room. So it is very stressful to make sure everyone gets where they are supposed to be, stays where they're supposed to be, and knows how to get where they are supposed to go. BUT, it is of course worth it. It is the culmination of all of the hard work my students did throughout the year and nothing makes me more proud than to see them up on that big stage, smiling and beautiful.

So basically... yeah... I like recital.

Thursday, April 16, 2009


Ok, if the title makes you uncomfortable, go ahead and stop reading now. I'm going to do a little sharing today and it does have to do with hormones and other womanly things. Dad, are you still there?


How about now?

All right ladies, we're alone.

So as most of you know, Joe and I decided to start trying to have a family, but in a lazy kind of "when it happens, it happens" way. Unfortunately, it seems like we're going to have to get a little more involved in our own futures. Annoying, huh? After stopping the good ol' BC in October, I have had some trouble becoming a normal woman again (ie. only one visit from Mother Nature since then). Now, don't get me wrong, I don't nessecarily miss my Monthly Curse, but I have heard that it plays an essential part in the functioning of those womanly parts that help with the baby-making. SO I decided (with some prompting from my Mom) to make an appointment with a really good Ob/Gyn in Athens and see if they had anything I could do to be a little more proactive. Two rounds of progesterone pills and nearly another month later, still nada. And now I have to go in for *cue mysterious and ominous music* laaaaabwork.

I don't really know what *music* laaaaaabwork entails, and I'm assuming it's basically just going to mean them taking some of my blood and maybe some other bodily fluids and making sure they are all normal. Which, in and of itself is not very intimidating. I guess it is the unknown aspect of it that is making me nervous. What are they looking for? Do I want them to find it or not? Is there something I'm doing wrong? Something I ate?

So I guess why I decided to share this with you, internets, is so I can have a little bloggy support group rooting for me as I get poked and prodded and whatever else. Those of you that pray feel free to do so, but otherwise just send good, positive labwork-y vibes my way.

Friday, April 10, 2009

a few

Ok, so some of my poems were really bad. Well, maybe not really bad but just so personal and heart-wrenching in that way that only teenage poems can be that I knew if I put them here and shared them suddenly they would seem shallow and stupid and I'd forget what they really meant to me. I am glad that I saved a lot of them (I have a journal of my "best works" from the end of high school through college) because they certainly do renew my perspective on where I came from and remind me how seriously I took myself, and perhaps that I had cause to at some points. But there were a few that I re-read and maybe they weren't as horrible... or at least, they didn't come from that place in your soul that seems to disappear with the onset of your twenties. Here's one I'll share... according to my journal it's called "When", although if I had written now I'd probably title it something different.

When I was younger I would watch the raindrops chasing each other down the window.
I would always place mental bets on the fastest raindrop
and I was always disappointed when one of the smaller
ate the others
and somehow won the race.
It seemed a bit like cheating to me.
When I was younger I took naps before dinner because I liked the way the silverware woke me up and the house smelled warmer when I opened my eyes and my parents' voices danced up the stairs vibrating and happy.
When I was younger the boys I liked were scrawny and goofy
and chased me around the playground with sideways, toothless smiles
and they never wanted to talk, really.
They were happy to chase and then be chased
and that was fine with everyone involved.
When I was younger being scared usually only happened at night
or in the presence of a mean boy named Fred
or a large girl named Lenore who would pick me up and spin me around.
But it was easy to hide under the covers and wish it all away on the memory of a star.
When I was younger the best days were spent outside with a ball from the grocery store
and my sisters thought I was super-cool.
When I was younger I built sandcastles by dipping my hand in a bucket of wet sand and dribbling
creating castles for the gods and goddesses of the sea.
When I was younger I put diving rings around my ankles and swam like a mermaid through aquamarine, chlorinated oceans,
befriended by dolphins and chased by sharks
that oddly resembled my sisters.
When I was younger opening the box of last year's summer clothes was like shopping all over again and jelly sandles never went out of style.
When I was younger hammocks were sailing ships
and lightening bugs told me summer secrets.

hop on!

Seems like everyday someone else gives into the peer pressure and joins us here in the wonderful world of blogging. I remember in college a few friends and I had blogs that we were the only ones to know about and we wrote terrible poetry (ok, some of the haiku was pretty good... and maybe I should go back and read some of my poems again before I judge them so harshly... but still) and talked about deep philosophical things and were basically losers. And it seemed that a blog was a perfect loser medium. But now blogs are all... cool and stuff. When did that happen? And people have blogs professionally (dooce, anyone? yeah, she's awesome) and get to be on Oprah talking about how important social networking is to the stay at home mom community. Well, pardon me, but maybe I'm just more comfortable being a loser. What happened to my blogger status quo? Now I have stuff to live up to and people that actually READ my blog (hi mom).

Anyway, I kind of got off on a rant there. My point was that now another of my nearest and dearest has come over to the blog side... welcome to Katie (aka Lady Homebody)! Now everyone go follow her so she feels the same pressure I do.

I'm going to go find a really good college-years poem to subject you... I mean share with you.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

spring broken

Yes, I am still here and alive, albeit perhaps a bit uninteresting lately. Let's see... what have I done that the masses might want to know about? I went to the beach this past weekend with one of my favorite people and managed to get hella sunburned, but only on my feet and neck. It's a talent. I also got to help said favorite person act out her wedding ceremony on the beach... I think I went from grandmother to groom in about 3 seconds, which was both fun and a little confusing. I am on spring break from the studio this week, which really means nothing since I still have to babysit and Joe still has school and work, but it has been nice to have my nights free and (let's be honest) to have a break from my kids. Recital is coming up fast and we've all been a bit frantic at the studio (ALL of our 400 some-odd kids perform in this monstrosity, and it gets a bit hectic even just in thinking about how it will work), so I think it was important for us all to get to step away for a week and come back a little more fresh before we get verbally attacked by parents who have to pay a $15 late fee or something equally as horrendous. Oh, and it snowed again yesterday. I mean, it was just flurries this time, no excuse for not blogging or anything, but still. Snow. In Georgia. In Athens, Georgia. In April. 'S not right.

Upcoming craziness in the Caldwell family: Joe is going to some big important meeting where he gets to hear his favorite man-crush (Warren Buffet) speak, we have two weddings (one of the favorite person mentioned above) back to back, we're moving into a yet-to-be-determined-but-I'm-going-to-see-one-of-our-last-options-today 2 bedroom apartment, we just recently discovered that we either have to spend approximately 4 million dollars on car repairs OR buy a new car (read: test the bonds of our marriage), Joe and Margaret and Katie are graduating within a week of each other (which also falls on the same weekend as RECITAL *cue ominous music*), Tricia graduates from highschool at the end of May right before she turns 18, Joe and I celebrate our 2 year anniversary (unless the car thing happens first, then... who knows...), and my sisters and I are planning a trip to NYC! All sounds pretty blog-worthy, right?