Tidbits & a Little TMI

I can’t seem to fully empty my bladder. Don’t know what’s going on in there, but baby/uterus/etc. must just be taking up too much room, or my tiny little bell pepper sized baby is situated in a bladder-constricting position, but yeah. I would like to pee like a normal person one of these days, please.

I spent about $50 on a ton of clearance clothes for Gus at the Carter’s store during my lunch hour. I am preeeeeetty sure this little shopping spree was me compensating for the fact that it is DRIVING ME CRAZY that I can’t buy my child in-utero anything gender-specific. I don’t know, not finding out the gender last time was such a no-brainer for us, and I didn’t feel really all that constricted by remaining in the dark throughout the pregnancy. With your first baby, you still have all the other fun stuff to put your nervous energy into, like choosing crib sheets, purchasing a pack-n-play, deciding between the Sleep Sheep or the Twilight Turtle, or even picking out cute little gender-neutral swaddling blankets.

But now?

We have all that stuff, we don’t really need any more baby trinkets, and we certainly don’t need any more blankets. But of course this baby deserves a few of his or her own things, we will want to have a few baby blankets that don’t already have lots of Gus memories attached to them. And of course, there is PLENTY of time for this baby to accumulate STUFF and there’s a whole lifetime to acquire things that will eventually have sentimental meaning. It’s not about the things, the stuff. I realize this. I don’t know, I guess just more than last time I’m itching to give this little one his or her own identity before he or she is on the outside. I am impatient. I want to know who he or she is right now! I want to see his or her face, I want to know what my baby’s cry sounds like, I want to look into his or her eyes, I want to smell that smell of my little one, that smell that you can just taste, it is so delicate and perfect and his or her own, no one else’s. Like my mother and sister-in-law always say, “Who is that in there?!” The frustration with not really needing to buy stuff but feeling like I really really want to is just a symptom of my excitement and wonder over this whole amazing gestating and mothering process. I clearly am in love with this baby already, there is no question of that.

On the other hand, in no way do I want it to be January tomorrow. I want to really soak in the second half of this pregnancy, and I hope that in the coming months, Gus will start to understand that he’s going to be a big brother and that we will be bringing a new baby into our home. And I want right now to be right now. This is life, what’s happening now is where I want to be.









Speaking of getting Gus familiar with bringing a new baby into our home, I bought some books to read with him, of course, since books (and trucks) are pretty much Gus’s whole world. I think I bought four of them, and they were definitely hit or miss. I hate buying children’s books online, it’s so hard to know what you’re getting (thank God for Amazon reviews). It was important to me that the books be (1) a little crunchy (no thank you to lots of pictures of hospitals and bottles and jarred baby food) and (2) not focus too much on the whole sibling jealousy thing, or Gus having to be a “big boy” now that he’ll have a little brother or sister. I don’t know, of course we’ll have to deal with the jealousy thing, I’m not naïve enough to think that this will be a totally smooth transition for him, but I certainly don’t need to put ideas into his head or tell him all the things he shouldn’t do with the new baby, like push or hit, pull hair, feed him or her pennies, that sort of thing. We will cross those bridges when/if we get there. And then the whole “big boy” thing bothers me. He is, of course, constantly growing and learning and becoming more independent, we don’t need to push him. He can do his growing up at his own pace, and he certainly doesn’t need that kind of pressure from a stupid book. There will be no deadline coming from me for how long it is he stays my baby. (Forever kiddo.)

Anyway, this is my favorite book, by far, by Rachel Fuller.

Picture from Amazon

It is wonderful. Sweet, simple, great illustrations. Multiple pictures of mommy breastfeeding baby, and even a picture of baby being worn in an Ergo–like carrier! Perfection. We just need to figure out how we’re going to refer to breastfeeding with Gus, because we certainly didn’t really think that through before reading the book, which in the past month has become part of our bedtime routine. On a few occasions, Dan has ad-libbed something to the affect of, “Baby is drinking milk from mommy’s boob and Gus is eating a sandwich and an apple!” So now sometimes Gus will proudly exclaim when we get to that page, “Baby! Mommy! Milk! BOOB! Apple!” Errrrr… Is boob the appropriate word for him to use? I’m guessing not, but I honestly don’t know what else I would teach him. The idea of Gus saying “breast” makes me break into a giggle fit. I’m doing it right now! Really, how old am I? That is just ridiculous. It is a breast. It’s called breastfeeding. Period. I mean, get over it Alicia.

Finally, I’ll quit rambling and leave you with one more bit of pregnancy TMI. Undergarments. I officially can no longer stand wearing thongs, maybe it’s the warm weather, the pregnancy, I don’t know, but it is just so uncomfortable and sweaty and especially under skirts and dresses, chub-rub inducing. Ugh. Gross, I know. So last night during a trip to target I swung into the ladies unmentionables department and picked out two packages of hard core, yeah you betcha, granny panties. Yes, I purchased undergarments that come in packages of three. And in nude/white/black color assortments, so that means there aren’t even any cute pink polka dots or lace or anything to make them feminine. Just big, huge, suuuuper comfortable but relatively inconspicuous under clothing UNDERWEAR. I will also admit to have bought a size up from what I normally would wear, just because I figured I’m pregnant, and this should guarantee added comfort. However, once home last night, and taking them out of their packages, I became seriously disturbed. Because they are just MASSIVE. They look like something that should be hung on a flag pole. And yeah. I guess that’s all I wanted to say about that. Felt like sharing, I suppose? Maybe I’m hoping someone will reassure me that I’m not alone in loving some big ole granny panties. Because I do. I love them. So comfortable. (What’s it to you 21 year old Alicia? Shut it, go bong a beer or something.)