Days Two - Five: Proof

It's been just under a week since I found out I'm having another munchkin. For the most part, I've just been walking around in a daze. The very beginning is kind of bizarre. I've been popping prenatal vitamins, cutting way down on caffeine, turning down wine at dinner, and, well, that's it. I haven't been all sick and miserable yet, which is great, but it also means the proof of my pregnancy is the digital display on a test that has already gone blank again. No proof. Well, until yesterday...

Yesterday morning, I went to clean up the first real dog mess since we got the puppy. My preggo nose caught a wiff and that was it. Sick. My husband came home from work for a bit just to clean up the mess and to take the puppy to work with him! He also brought me a decaf Starbucks. That's pretty high up there on the amazing guy scale, I think, eh? He's got how to pamper a preggie down to a science. After that, I went about my day, which included about a million errands. Wyatt was in and out of car seats, strollers and shopping carts all afternoon. One of those stops was to the Lab, where I had my official blood test done for the doc. Got my results back a couple hours later. Positive. Not that there was a question, but it always seems so much more real when the doctor tells you. So now I have my proof.

I'm also turning 32 on Monday, so there are a few little birthday things going on, including a visit from Andrea next weekend, which I'm really excited about! But nothing else related to the bun in the oven. In the 1st trimester, that's probably a good thing. Oh, and yesterday Wyatt learned how to say "Uh oh!". I don't think he actually knows what it means, but he says it all the time, which is pretty stinkin' cute. So that's where we're at. A happy little family with a whole lot to think about these days.

Day One: Again

I'm knocked up. Again. Whoa.

It's not like we didn't know there was a chance, but who in their 30s gets pregnant the very first month off the pill? Who's that stinkin' fertile? Well, evidently I am. I must have been built for another era... I would have been such a catch to some farmer in Arkansas in the 1940s who wanted about 18 kids to help him run the farm. Just imagine my potential, had I started young... Ha!

I told Ryan with a text message. It's not quite as lame as it sounds. I sent a series of pictures. First, a close-up of Wyatt saying, "Dad, I have something to tell you." Then a not-as-close-up picture of him wearing a big brother wife beater saying, "I'm gonna be a big brother!" And lastly, a picture of the Pregnant digital display of the pregnancy test saying, "Yes, that's what it means." He came home with balloons (one "boy", one "girl", which I hope simply say one or the other, and that they aren't an omen for twins, ha ha) and flowers, and we celebrated by going out to dinner. I had Panang Curry and wondered how much longer it'd be before I'd be eating saltine crackers and 7-up. Yum.

Needless to say, we're not really secret-keepers around here. I didn't wait until I started my 2nd trimester to tell everyone. In fact, it's already on my Facebook status, and I just found out today! I know, I know. It's probably smart to hold out for a bit - make sure everything sticks. But I'd die having to wait. And as soon as we can, we'll find out if we're having a boy or a girl, too. At that point, baby "it" will have a correct pronoun and a proper name (because we already have those picked out, too). That's just how we roll.

Yeah, it's a whole new experience the 2nd time around. I'm excited, but also filled with a mild sense of dread. You know, just about certain aspects of pregnancy (the 1st and 3rd trimesters) and certain things about the baby (the birth, the first 6 weeks of his/her existence, nursing again). Yeah, just some minor concerns... :) But then I look at Wyatt. At this little person with his own personality and those big blue eyes. And yeah, I think I can do this.

Again. :)

Playing the Fool

Yesterday, Wyatt hit the 4 week mark. I have no idea what that means, ha ha, but I guess we're still counting in weeks for a while. I wonder how old I am in weeks... Nope... too lazy to do the math. Never mind.

So anyway, for a few days now, our child has been attempting to make fools of his mom and dad. And who better to do it than a child born on April 1st? He has a new trick. Crying for what seems to be no reason. Fed? Check. Clean diaper? Check. Comfortable clothing and temperature? Sure, as far as we can tell. Healthy? Yes, actually, although he's tried to fool us there a couple times too, with the newborn stuffies. Gas drops? Yep, we try those, too.

He's also employing some manipulative behaviors that all the baby books swore wouldn't start until he was about 3 months old. For instance, "Neh". The Dunston baby language DVD clearly told us that "Neh" means hungry. For about the first 2 weeks, that was pretty dead on. But now, Wyatt has learned that if you throw the "Neh" into the mix, mom or dad will come running with a boob or a bottle. He even tries to use that ace card like 10 minutes after he finishes eating. (Even if it was one of those times he had a bottle, so we know he just downed 4oz.) "Neeeeeeeeeeh. Neeeeeeeeeeh. Feed me. I'm starving to death!" Is it colic? Well, no, not technically, right? Because it doesn't go on for 3 hours straight. (And honestly, if it did go on for 3 hours straight, I probably would have started using noise-cancelling headphones.) Usually, he fusses for about an hour or so at a time, several times a day, especially in the evening. It sucks. We love the little dude, but he's trying as hard as he can to be less likeable....

But then he goes and smiles at me, and I kind of forget that he's on my bad list. Seriously, you try holding a grudge against those big blue eyes. It's work. And so I tend to give in and believe everything that tiny smile suggests: "I'm done with my fussy stage, mom. From now on, it's all cute, all the time." Two minutes later? "Neh!!!!!" Go figure.

More snapshots of the little dude playing me the fool: