Things that matter

I'm 29 years old and I always thought that I knew what mattered, but suddenly some things seem to be shifting. For instance, my own personal safety has always been pretty high on the list, as well as the state of my appearance and my freedoms. I'm a size 2 with a 25 inch waist and all of a sudden I'm looking at my tummy and thinking about the stretch marks and fat and widening hips and bigger feet and hormonal complexion and my rapidly growing in roots (Yes, I'm naturally blonde. No, not this blonde.). The strange thing is that suddenly I'm not caring anymore. It's not just that it's well worth the sacrifice, it's just that it doesn't really seem important at all. Don't get me wrong. I'm still a girl and the upkeep of myself still seems important, but the idea of not having a bikini worthy body suddenly seems kind of sad, but in a trivial "oops I broke a plate" kind of way, instead of in the self esteem shattering, "I'm a big fat ugly cow!" kinda way. Also, the idea of deliberately going through a situation that can kill me, or at the very least do permanent damage to my body and be incredibly painful and grueling (Yes, I mean labor.) seems less terrifying than it seems like it should. So, as a tribute to my younger, partying, thinner and more egocentric days, here are some party pictures from the 80's party, the toga party and the rocky party.

Dilemma of a pregnant Ninja

I told my martial arts group and my brother. Everyone was very happy, excited and supportive, but also suddenly very protective. Even with 5 years of balance beam training I had to stop standing on a 5 inch curb so I wouldn't worry my sensei. The real problem is that slipping off a curb is nothing compared to the falls I would routinely take in training, not to mention the impact from being hit. I've already modified my training, but not to the 5 inch curb level of safety, which is perhaps now necessary, or perhaps overkill. I wonder how differently people will relate to me now that I'm carrying someone else's entire future inside me. I'm planning to contact the only other pregnant martial artist I know of to see if she has any tips for training safely. I never realized how inherently dangerous the world is until I had to protect someone from it.

I HAVE to tell someone soon!

Attention world! Announcing the presence of a tiny miracle growing in my tummy!
At least, that's what I imagine the press release looking like. There really should be some sort of a press release. This is a monumental event! I really want to tell my family, but I don't want to tell them long distance, and I wanted to wait till we know everything is ok with the baby. On the other hand, I don't think I can wait much longer. Maybe I should go visit...

So, apparently I'm supposed to hibernate.

I spent the last two weeks telling Gene that I had the flu. Gene kept telling me that he was "pretty sure he couldn't catch what I had." The nausea isn't so bad, but I'm sleepy and hungry and hot. All symptoms seem to come at random times and with random lengths and intervals. Why I assumed that "morning sickness" had something to do with the mornings, I can't imagine, but I was clearly mistaken. The upshot of all this is that I seem to want to eat a lot, and then get very warm, curl up and sleep for months at a time. So, I can only assume that when men say that pregnancy can turn your wife into a real bear, they mean it literally. I wonder when all the fur grows in...

Surprise!

I showed up at Gene's office and had the receptionist call him down for a "delivery." I was waiting in the lobby with a tiny onesie and a bib that said, "I love my daddy." I've seen Gene happy, but the man was beaming! He put the outfit up in his office and took me out to lunch. Nothing seems quite real yet, and somehow I feel like my feet haven't touched the ground in hours.

TWO Pink Lines!

Holy cow! It's positive! I'm pregnant! Wait, one line is really faint...Oh no! Maybe I'm not pregnant! Panic panic panic...and that's pretty much how my morning started. After a trip to the doctor's office and what seemed like the longest wait in history, the nurse came out and showed me my results, and flinched. Apparently they're not used to people being delighted when the result comes out positive. All my bouncing around and laughing seemed to be quite a relief to her, so I floated out the door in search of a good way to tell Gene.

Planning to be a mom...

I'm a planner, so I planned having a baby, like every other part of my life. I'd like to say that I'm just really responsible, but to be truthful, it just helps me not to panic. Gene is a planner too, so between the two of us, we planned the heck out of this thing. I left my job, we spent months with me doing all the house repairs. I scraped ceilings and rewired outlets and etc. We went to pregnancy planning classes and collected baby stuff, and at the end of everything, I'm sitting there all prepared, in a remodeled house, with no full time job and a pile of baby stuff... and no baby. Hmmm. I think we may have skipped an important step...