The Mighty Baby

Archive for the ‘Announcements’ Category

I had a ball last night, kicking my mom’s organs around. I didn’t kick so hard as to make her cry, but enough to make her whine. Secretly, I think she was fascinated by it.

And this morning I was all innocent and demure, sleeping peacefully while the technicians were trying to get a rise out of me for the growth sonogram and for the non-stress test.

Today my estimated weight is 6lbs 5 oz. Technically, I guess I could come out and play. But no, I have to stay in for 4 more weeks. Yeah, got it. 4 more weeks. Should I listen, or play by my own rules?

Today was my Baby Shower. I am super excited to meet all my future aunties and uncles. They all seem super loving and fun, rubbing my mom’s belly and yapping away with her. And they gave me lots of presents. I just kept on hearing my mom say “omg, she’s so spoiled and her closet will be more filled than mine” and my dad say “thank you, it’s not pink!” It’s really nice that people gave such thoughtful presents to someone they haven’t even met. I know I’m cute and cool, but they don’t know that yet. Can’t wait to come out, meet them, charm them, but Mom and Dad say I need to wait. At least 4 more weeks. They need more time to get ready for me. Ahhh, such procrastinators. People, you’ve had 8+ months — get with the program! Ha.

A big shout out from deep inside to Aunts Carrie, Helen, Janice, Melissa and Uncle James and my dad for all their love and help getting the shower together. See you soon! (yes, yes, but not for at least 4 weeks…)

It’s getting tight in here. I’m still able to move around a little, but my head is staying in the down position. (though I wonder why I’m not super dizzy with crazy blood rushes to the head.) I’ve been trying to dance or just stretch my legs every chance I get. I often make the top of Mom’s belly square, when I move or kick out. She and Dad talk to me, especially when I make her belly bulge in certain places. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. I don’t think they realize they’re talking to my ass. Hello, my head’s down below the belly button! Clueless first timers…

Sorry that I’m slow to post. My mom’s really lame and kinda dense. I’ve been kicking a lot more lately, but she doesn’t seem to get that I’m trying to send a message.

“I’m hungry.”

“I want you to write a post on the blog, since I can’t type yet.”

“Yes, I do like that name for me.”

“NO, please don’t name me that.”

“I just want to dance.”

It’s week 30 now, which is the third trimester and there’s about 2 months left to go. A few weeks ago, mom took the super long glucose test. Was over by 5 points on the 3rd vat of blood they drew, and the other vats tested well under the suggested baseline. I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry, so they’ve sent mom to another doctor as well for diabetic counseling. Even though they aren’t officially diagnosing her with gestational diabetes. Mom’s been very cranky about it all. She’s had to prick her finger 7 times a day and record the glucose numbers, which have been normal (except for that time when she downed a sky-high stack of chocolate chip pancakes with syrup, duh). And she’s a total spaz with the glucose monitoring machine, making a bloody mess with all the pricking. Getting better, as she’s realizing the thumb is a good juicy source of blood. Index finger — not so much. Went back to the diabetes doctor yesterday, and have been granted parole — only need to do 4 pricks a day instead of 7. Good. That will help make mom look less like a drug addict as she lays all the needles and machines out on her office desk. Realizing mom’s been a big baby about all this, but I do appreciate it! Well, at least we’ll score a few extra ultrasounds out of it. Let mom and dad get a few extra peeps of me before I pop out and start exercising my vocal cords.

Hi Dad, Father, Baba, Daddy, MightyGeek, that guy:

Happy Birthday! I can’t wait to bust out of this womb to finally meet you. I hear your voice everyday, telling me that you love me. (And not to turn out crazy like mom, but I think I sense humor in that remark.) Can’t wait to be cradled in your arms, feel the love that you have for me, laugh at your kookiness, and in turn, I hope to charm you with my cuteness and wit. And score free toys and whatever I want. I have a feeling mom will play the role of bad cop, but you, I sense that you are a bit less uptight. Like you, I’m already crafting a plan and thinking a few steps ahead…

So, Happy Birthday and see you in a few months. I love you!

xoxo – Baby G

Mom had her doctor’s appointment the other day. We took the glucose test. Y’know, the drink isn’t too bad. Kinda tasted like Gatorade Fierce Melon. But we just found out today that the numbers were a little high, so it’s back to the waiting room for the 3 hour test. Hope we pass this next one.

We also passed the weigh-in before the big fight/wrestling match. Cutting bagels out of the diet apparently worked. She didn’t get scolded for being a fatty this time — weight gain on target. Hooray!

There was a lady who was about to pop in the waiting room. She was huge and freaked Mom out! I didn’t think Mom knows what she’s in for over the next few weeks. I’m a-gonna grow grow grow and bust out of here. It’s been fun to kick around in the meantime. I can hear Mom and Dad marvel over the kicks. And when I’m not kicking, they worry that something is wrong and start dancing to make me wake up. Silly people, let me sleep!

I went to Galapagos last night, a sorta club-sorta art space in Brooklyn. Uncle Fish and Uncle Alien were playing bass and drums (respectively) for this weird performance. There were trapeze artists and hula hoops and lots of glitter. I didn’t care much for the performance, but I really dug Uncle Fish and Uncle Alien’s music. The beats were a lot of fun for me to bounce to, though I didn’t quite understand their lyrics. What does Montezuma’s Revenge mean?

Last weekend, Mom and Dad ventured into a Buy Buy Baby store out in the suburbs. I’m perfectly comfortable and content swimming around in my womb world right now, but I hear that I may need a few more items once I’m out. So my clueless parents tackled the baby emporium, not quite sure what to expect. Mom got fascinated and overwhelmed by the gazillions of SKUs and endless walls, racks, rows of stuff stuff stuff. Dad, on the other hand, instantly aged about 40 years and transformed into a crotchety old man. He had a wiseass comment about every item — criticizing it, ridiculing its necessity and just getting overall mad at crazy consumerism. Some points were very valid and some points were just for cranky’s sake. He kept on going off, it was kinda funny. At least I think it was funny, because Mom kept on laughing at him. Needless to say, they didn’t last too long in the store. Can you help my confused, rational, practical parents pick out useful essentials that I’ll need to make it in the big world? Otherwise, I might get stuck with a cardboard box, some crumpled up newspapers and bubblewrap (which I hear chafes the delicates). Thanks in advance for your recommendations!

I’ve been rock and rollin’ all day today. Mom and Dad could see me trying to punch through the belly. And I accidentally kicked Mom in some organ of hers… I think it alerted her to my advancement to a womb kickboxing brown belt. Yay for me!

Today they took me on my first whirlwind tour of open houses. I think real estate shopping gets them all hopped up or something. A lot of climbing in and out of a car, breathing in construction dust and opening/closing doors — I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Mom was shooting adrenaline my way, maybe that’s why I’ve been up and about. I hope they aren’t thinking of moving. I’ve started to like the blue room that’s being set up for me.

So apparently I’m on target with my weight, about a pound. (So it is true, cameras do put a few extra pounds on you — don’t I look much bigger than a measly pound?) But the doctor told mother ship that she was gaining too much weight too fast. I guess it’s confusing to her since I’ve been kicking and ringing the dinner bell a lot more lately. The fear of gestational diabetes, c-section and other complications is making her cut back on the breads and meal sizes, but man, I’m still hungry! And Dad’s been trying to keep her accountable. I think it’s a good thing, but come on, it’s not like she’s the size of a whale or something. (pictures to come soon)