Happy Tofurkey Day!

We'll be out of town for a few days, so I won't be updating the blog until next week. Until then, here are a few things I'm thankful for this year:

Allen, being pregnant, our kitties, great friends and family who have been so supportive (couldn't have made it without you guys!), having food on the table and a roof over our heads, and getting to spend the holiday with people we love.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Meatless Monday: The Tuesday Edition.

In my distress over stretch marks yesterday, I totally forgot to post for Meatless Monday. I had a post all written up and ready to go ranting about Congress trying to get pizza classified as a vegetable in school lunches, but in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I think I'll post a recipe instead. Not that it's a traditional Thanksgiving recipe or anything, but it's still tasty and you should give it a try. (This recipe originally came from my friend Jon who is a fabulous cook and all around fun guy.) 


So, here is a delicious recipe for Chana Masala - an Indian chickpea dish. This recipe makes a huge batch, so it will either make a big enough serving for several people (at least six), or you will have yummy leftovers for a few days.


Chana Masala:

2 Cans Chickpeas (or one 16 oz. bag dried - you'll need to increase the spice amounts a bit if you use the entire bag of dried beans) Rinse and drain if using canned. If using dried, soak with the quick soak method, drain, rinse, add water to cover and boil until soft (or use a pressure cooker, if you have one - cuts the cooking time dramatically). Then drain and add to recipe.

1 onion sliced thin
ginger - 1 in. piece, minced or grated (or approx. 1 Tbs powdered)

garlic (a few cloves, minced)
jalapeno (minced, optional - if you want the flavor but not much heat, make sure you scrape the seeds out before mincing it. one jalapeno in an entire batch shouldn't make it too spicy, but you can leave it out if you are worried about it)
1 Tbs turmeric
1 Tbs paprika
1 Tbs cumin
1.5 Tbs coriander
0.5 Tbs pepper

1 pinch asafetida (if you have it - can leave it out otherwise)

2 Tbs lemon juice
cayenne (just a dash. I'd put in a smidge even if/especially if you leave out the jalapeno, but it isn't crucial.)
salt (to taste)
1 quart vegetable broth

2-3 medium tomatoes, diced (or 1 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes)

1 14.5 oz. can tomato sauce (or juice)

Measure the spices out first and have them in a little bowl by the pot on the stove. You don't want to be measuring them in individually at that step because you need to stir them constantly to make sure they don't burn. Trust me on this one...

Caramelize onion in olive oil (this is the key - get them really brown and sweet!)
Add ginger. Cook for a bit. (until fragrant and soft - make sure you stir frequently so nothing burns - maybe a minute if using fresh, 30 seconds if using powdered)
Add garlic, jalapeno - cook 30 seconds or so
Add the spices - cook until toasted and fragrant, 30 seconds - 1 minute, stirring constantly

Add 0.5 cups water to make a thin paste

Add beans, broth, tomatoes, and the juices. Simmer until liquid is thickened and reduced. If the taste is a little too tomato-y or otherwise flat, add a bit more salt and maybe a bit more of the spice mix. (Just add in dashes of each until it tastes right. Wait until the liquid gets thick before you taste and adjust, though. Some spices take a while to cook and develop flavor - like turmeric - and concentrating the liquid will concentrate the taste.)

Garnish with cilantro, if desired. Serve over rice with a side of raita.

Rice:

The perfect ratio is 1/3 coconut milk, 2/3 water. For example, for 3 cups of brown basmati rice, use 2 cups coconut milk (basically, use 1 can) and 4 cups of water. Add (golden or regular) raisins, cardamom pods (green or black or a mixture) and turmeric before cooking (1-2 teaspoons for color). YUM! (Either fish out the cardamom pods before fluffing the rice - they should all be sitting on the top - or warn people they are in there!) That will make enough rice to have leftovers.

Raita:

Peel one cucumber, slice it in half down the length, an scoop/scrape out the seeds with a spoon. Then grate the halves with a box grater and squeeze out excess liquid from the shreds. Mix with one big container of soy yogurt (or greek yogurt or regular ol' yogurt), but make sure it's the PLAIN flavor! Add some salt and fresh cracked pepper to taste. You can also stir in parsley or cilantro or a bit of mint if you like. Serve chilled on the side, or put a dollop on top of the chana masala when you serve it.

Yummy all around! Happy cooking!

You know what it is?

I figured it out. I am terrified of stretch marks because they are physical proof that I was pregnant that will be around long after I am no longer pregnant. After the emotional nuclear winter following the miscarriage, I am terrified of having a physical reminder of the pregnancy before I have my baby safe in my arms.

I know it's weird and pessimistic, but I know of so many women recently who have had their babies too early and I am terrified of that outcome.

At least now I know why I am freaking out so much about something so superficial. Maybe that will help me take a deep breath, relax and let it go. I can't control it so I should stop trying.

Thanks for listening to me whine about it. I feel much better now.

Stretch marks.

I have been living on cocoa butter. Seriously. I am single-handedly keeping the coca butter business afloat. I slather so much of the stuff on my belly every night in the hopes of staving off stretch marks that I permanently smell like whatever scent I've picked out for the week. But last night, I discovered something devastating...

It's not working.

I was just bragging to my mother about how I had no stretch marks on my belly yet (though a few small ones have crept up on my chest), and I was working so hard to make sure it stayed that way. (The aforementioned cocoa butter, plus keeping really well hydrated and eating right.) So seeing those first faint pink lines stretching across my lower belly was a shock. Though, in retrospect, they shouldn't have been all that surprising given the ones that appeared on my chest a few weeks ago.

In theory, I don't think there's anything wrong with stretch marks. They are a sign of something amazing: growing a person! One book referred to them as "the red badge of motherhood". But let's be real here for a minute. They aren't exactly attractive. No one sees stretch marks and thinks, "ooh, sexy!" I have enough body image problems without adding huge red welts across my abdomen. I know they fade over time, but it's distressing. I'm not a fan, in general, of putting a bunch of chemicals in my body, but I'm thinking that Mederma and I are going to be pretty good friends in a few months...

I think the main reason this is so hard for me to accept is that almost every single woman I have discussed this with has said something along the lines of "I didn't get any stretch marks!" I swear, if I hear that one more time I might go insane. I mean, sure, there have to be women out there with magical skin who never show signs of trauma, but seriously? Is it all of you? Am I the only one getting these things?

I would really love to hear from someone who got stretch marks. How bad is it going to get? How long do they take to fade from neon red to skin tone? Does Mederma (or any other scar reducing topical treatment) work? Is this something I just need to accept? Learn to love it as just another sign that I grew and nourished a life for nine months? I know it's vain. I fully embrace that it's only "skin deep" (heh) and has no impact on my abilities as a wife or mother. And not many people see my belly on a regular basis (or at all). But I would really love to be pretty for the one person who does see me and my distended belly on a regular basis.

This is where Allen proves, once again, that he is the best husband ever and a better person than me. He doesn't think they are ugly - though that may be because they are still small and unobtrusive right now. He thinks they are a sign that my body is doing something incredible, and thinks anyone who thinks they are ugly should keep their mouths shut. I married an amazing man. But still, having a baby is, in the end, kind of gross. So I'd prefer to keep the rest of it as pretty as possible. Rubbing a belly that's marked with deep red gashes takes away some of the charm...

N.B. This post is not meant to make anyone feel bad about themselves. This is how I feel about my stretch marks. Seeing them on other people doesn't make me cringe or shudder. (Actually, come to think of it, I don't know that I have seen them on other people aside from the birthing videos we've been watching in our Bradley Method class...) I'm whining about them on my body because I'm having a little pity party and feeling sorry for myself for not being Miranda Kerr who had a baby and went back to modeling Victoria's Secret underwear like 2 months later with nary a mark on her perfect self. (Not to mention a perfectly flat and flab-free belly.) I know beauty is only skin deep, in the eye of the beholder, is fleeting, etc, etc. But I'd still like to be pretty, for Allen at least.

An open letter to Ikea.

Dear Ikea,

I'm just going to say this to you straight, no beating around the bush. You suck and it's over.

Yep. That's right. I said it. I used to love you, but now I find you tedious and hateful. I'm afraid our relationship has to end. Sure, you have cute ideas and some smart storage solutions for small spaces - things that, in the beginning, I thought made us a perfect match. But I was wrong. Beneath your cute exterior lies shoddy craftsmanship, questionable manufacturing and labor practices and terrible customer service. Looks aren't everything in a relationship. I'm sorry I had to discover this fact the hard way, but now that I have, I just don't think we should see each other any more.

I put up with your abusive ways for far too long. The two story maze I had to navigate just to find the one lamp I needed, the 45 minute drive just to get to one of your stores, the time Allen had to go to three separate stores in a giant triangle around the DC metro area just to assemble a single desk... But the final straw was last weekend.

I found a bed frame I loved. I saw it in the store a few months ago and then stalked it online. Your stock is always fluctuating and never quite reliable, so I made sure to check online before we left to make sure the frame was "in stock". I had to wait several weeks. You know how to keep a girl dangling, Ikea. I'll give you that. I watched the stock go from "probably not in stock" with red bars, to "almost definitely in stock!" with five green bars! Five green bars, Ikea! It must be in the store! We drove down, expecting to buy our new bed frame and a whole new closet. We talked about sleeping on our new bed all the way down, we were that excited about it. We got to the store and decided on a color, then went to pick out our new closets.

This is where it started to fall apart, Ikea. First, you had some kind of high-wattage interrogation lights installed in the Pax closet section. I realize that I'm pregnant and a little sensitive to temperature changes, but even Allen was dying in there. We kept having to walk back to the mattress section for breaks because it was so unbearable. Then, we discovered that the tall shelves come in five colors, but the short ones only come in two colors. Whaaat?? We spent all that time picking out colors and accessories, only to have to start over when we realized that we could either get a kaleidoscope of closets (no) or settle for a color we didn't particularly want just for the sake of everything matching. I have a news flash for you, Ikea. Not everyone has even ceilings. Sometimes you have to mix and match heights, but it shouldn't mean you have to mix and match colors. But, like all abused partners, we "compromised" and rationalized our choice as being "better".

Once we had everything picked out and finalized, we went to the representative on the floor to pre-order our tall closets. You can't just pick those up at self-serve, oh no, you have to have the rep order it for you, print you out a receipt, pay for it and then you can pick it up from the furniture pick-up. She was moderately helpful, Ikea, but it only made us realize how terrible you had been to us overall. She checked the stock of all our closet accessories to make sure we could get everything we needed. On a whim, I asked her to check on our bed frame. This was the moment, Ikea. The moment you look back on and say, "Wow. Right there is where I totally blew it."

There was one in stock. Normally, this would not be an issue. In any other store, one in stock means one in stock. But seeing "one" in stock made our rep nervous. She tried to call someone in the stock area to find out if it was on the shelf. Twice. No one answered, Ikea. Perhaps we should have known what that omen would portend. Since I was dying under your interrogation lights, and my feet hurt from the miles of maze we had already traversed, and I was tired and hungry from being trapped in your store for over three hours already, I told her that we would just go check for ourselves.

You know what happened next. We made our way down to self-serve with our list of aisles and bins and a cart to lug our purchases out to the car. Luckily, Allen suggested we get the bed frame first as it was the biggest. We found the appropriate aisle, then the appropriate bin, labelled with "Opddal" so we knew we were in the right place, and found... Nothing. (Well, not nothing. We found plenty of Malm bed frames stacked in the Opddal section.) Allen went to find someone to help us. The response he got was something along the lines of "Well, if it's not on the shelf, we don't have it. The stock numbers are more like plus or minus five, so having one "in stock" doesn't mean anything."

We came to you with money in our pockets, prepared to spend well over $1000 on furniture and accessories. But like all abusive relationships, you left us upset and disappointed in the end. Feeling like we were stupid to have trusted you, and hating ourselves for buying into your promises. We left without giving you a single penny of our hard earned money. The only thing I am proud of that fateful day. We decided to wait until we had cooled down before making any further decisions about our relationship. I emailed your online customer service department to air my complaint with the hopes that you would try to win us back. We would have taken you back, you know, if you had shown even the tiniest bit of remorse or understanding about how upset we were. But you have grown so arrogant in your dominance in our relationship that you couldn't even muster up false sympathy. You know how limited our choices are for affordable, space-saving furniture, so your customer service rep basically told us we should have called the store in advance. Never mind that I did check the stock before we left, and checked again while we were in the store.

It was a classic non-apology. "I'm sorry you are mad, but it's your own fault."

So, that's it, Ikea. We're through. In our "consume or be consumed" world, customer service has taken a nose-dive at all retailers. Gone are the days when a store would try to win and keep your business. You certainly aren't the first to have treated us badly, Ikea, and I'm sure you won't be the last. But I can say with certainty that you'll never get the chance to hurt us again. "Fool me five times, shame on you. Fool me six or more times..." We put up with your crap for far too long and we refuse to do it anymore. The list of companies we will no longer buy from is growing longer, and our options for where to purchase things are growing shorter. We are unhappy with this turn of events, but the consolation is that we don't have to feel bad about funneling money into an ungrateful, bloated and arrogant corporation who cares only about its bottom line. We will gladly pay three times the price for a similar item, just for the pure satisfaction of getting it somewhere else. We will also happily search Craig's List and consignment shops and antique stores to find what we need. Your furniture may be new and flashy, but we've discovered that there is no soul underneath the pretty exterior.

So long, Ikea. It hasn't been fun, and I'm glad to be rid of you. I hope more people recognize your abusive ways and tell you goodbye.

Relieved that it's over,
-Autumn

Blogs I love: Via Ukraine.

In honor of National Adoption Month, I'd like to call your attention to one of my favorite blogs: Via Ukraine.

She's hilarious, but she's also honest and doesn't sugar coat anything. It's refreshing to find a blog that isn't all sunshine, rainbows and unicorns. Those blogs are great, but it's a relief to see that there are other women in the world who don't have perfect lives. She writes with such honesty about the struggles she had with infertility and adopting older children, and it never veers into self-pity, which is a hard line to walk.

Did I mention she's hilarious? I can't even tell you the number of times I have laughed out loud at something she wrote. This woman is responsible for my second favorite saying of all time: "Hold my earrings, Imma fight a man." If we lived in the same town, I would have asked her on a girl-date ages ago. She's exactly the person you want as a friend: witty and a bit sarcastic, with a fabulous sense of humor, but also kind and willing to lend a hand or a kind word.

She has an "ask me anything" feature on her blog, and she actually does respond to questions. This month she's trying to field adoption questions, so if there is anything you ever wanted to know about adoption, or older child adoption or adopting from an Eastern Bloc country, go ask her. But fair warning: you'll get addicted to her blog and end up stopping by every day. Ask me how I know...

Meatless Monday: Red Radio.

I'm thinking of trying out a new feature. I'm going to try to post something every Monday that has to do with food activism or veganism (vegetarianism). This blog is about our journey as a family, and that necessarily includes those topics. It won't all be in-your-face-activism, though occasionally it might be. I promise to post recipes and other stuff, too. We'll see how it goes.

What finally pushed me over the edge into trying out this feature on the blog was Jamie Kilstein - a vegan comedian - and Citizen Radio, a political and activism radio show that he created with his wife. Jamie Kilstein is hilarious, by the way.

Citizen Radio started a new program called Red Radio (hosted by Erin Red), which is specifically about veganism and animal rights. The inaugural episode features an interview with Colleen Patrick Goudreau who wrote one of my favorite vegan baking books - The Joy of Vegan Baking. (I make the cinnamon buns out of there for all special occasions and they never last more than 20 minutes out of the oven. Then I have to make a second batch for everyone else...)

I started listening to the show, but I couldn't make it to Goudreau's interview. Erin Red, the host, began with "what's actually in your McRib sandwich" and detailed some of the allegations of abuse and neglect at the factory farm which supplies McDonald's with pork. (They are being sued and investigated by the Humane Society for gross violations.) What actually goes into a McRib is disgusting, but the abuse allegations were unimaginably cruel. I had to turn the program off before she could get into the worst of it because I just couldn't handle it. This is part of the reason I'm vegan, anyway. I can't stomach animal cruelty, so I don't eat animals. Even though I couldn't make it through the episode, I highly recommend you give it a listen. If you've ever wondered how your food gets made, this is an eye-opener.

As I've said before, I don't advocate a vegan diet for everyone. It's hard work: it requires time, money and vigilance - which are three things in short supply in this economy. You also have to be extremely well educated to insure you are getting proper nutrition. Being vegan is easier for me than trying to make sure I ethically source all of my animal products, which is another part of the reason I do it. But if you are eating meat and/or dairy, I strongly feel that you have a responsibility to know where your food is coming from and how it's treated before it hits your table. It's not just an animal rights issue, though that's a big part of it. It's also a human rights issue (migrant and illegal labor), a health issue (hormones and antibiotics injected into the food supply), and an environmental issue (pollution, run-off, e. coli contamination, a dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico from farm run-off...).

I also strongly believe that how we treat those who are weaker than us defines us as human beings, and defines us as a species in a larger sense. I saw a bumper sticker years ago that has stayed with me and really resonated: "People who abuse animals rarely stop there." Violence is becoming pandemic in modern society and if we can't be kind to a cow who is destined to become our dinner, how can we expect to be kind to one another?

Check out Red Radio's inaugural episode. It's worth listening to, even the hard parts. (It's also totally free and available online or via podcast.)

How green is "enough"?

You may or may not have guessed reading some of these posts, but we're kinda granola at Chez Parker. We try to buy organic, fair trade, made in the US or made with fair wage and labor standards, we reduce, we reuse, we recycle. We work pretty hard to be eco-friendly. With a baby on the way, there are a few baby items that are easy to go eco-friendly: cloth diapers. Check. Organic soaps. Check. No VOC paint. Check. Non-toxic, eco-friendly latex mattress. Super check. (Excited about that one.) Hand-me-downs and/or gently used baby clothes. Check. Basically, if it comes in organic or fair trade, or if it reduces waste in landfills, we plan on using it for our baby.

Here's where I may fall off the wagon...

Baby wipes. I found an awesome recipe online for DIY wipes. I'm all for it. Make something gentle and know exactly what goes in it?? Yes please! There is a great recipe and tutorial on the Angel Babies website if you are interested. So while I am super stoked about the homemade wipes thing, I am torn about one particular aspect... Disposable or reusable? The tutorial shows a roll of paper towels, but says you can use it on reusable cloth wipes too. I'm all about reusing, but I gotta tell you guys: disposable wipes are super tempting.

It's not the laundry. I'll be washing cloth diapers every two days anyway, so it's not like I'm making more work for myself in that respect. The issue for me is the extra ick factor. Wiping off poop? Fine. Getting to then throw that poop away? Awesome.

I suppose there's also the issue of how often I'l have to make the wipes. If I have a roll of paper towels, presumably that will last a week or two, right? Newborns go through 12 diapers a day, so I'd assume going through 12-24 wipes per day. If I'm using cloth ones, I'd need a supply of like 50 wipes just to get through 2 days before needing to do laundry. Well, I'm exaggerating a bit. That would be a terrible two days... So maybe I'd have to make them more frequently, but maybe not that much more frequently?

Am I trying to be too green? Is there such a thing? Am I just making a lot of unnecessary work for myself that I'll regret when I have a newborn to care for? I want to do the right thing for my baby and for the planet, but when is enough enough? 

So, disposable or reusable? It's the new "paper or plastic?".

Future gymnast.

We've hit the point in the pregnancy where I can feel the baby moving. It's pretty exciting. I've actually been feeling him moving around in there for a few weeks now, but in the last week or so, he's gotten strong enough to make my whole belly move. Like you can see it on the outside kind of moving. It's both awesome and freaky. Like Aliens but with less carnage.

Allen saw one belly move and felt one kick, so our record of uncooperative baby is still standing. But this little guy is active. I don't know how much babies move around in there in general, but I've got to tell you, this one is doing somersaults. It's awesome. I absolutely love feeling his little kicks and punches. It reminds me that someone is actually in there (rather than me just having a beer gut), and it makes me feel like he is growing and getting stronger.

I've been measuring this pregnancy in milestones. First heartbeat on ultrasound, first heartbeat on Doppler, first trimester, 20 week anatomy scan... Now we've hit the movement milestone. The next one is the 28 week milestone. We're right at the cusp between viable inside and viable outside, and 28 weeks kind of marks the turning point. Everything has been going so well with this pregnancy, and while I am incredibly grateful, I've also been kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. That's why I measure time in milestones. It's a short term goal that that's easy to attain and doesn't let me look too far ahead. It's also a much more positive outlook and doesn't let me dwell too much on the what-ifs.

I still can't believe there is a whole person in there. It's so amazing. I wish I were a poet because I just don't have the words to describe how incredible this whole experience has been. It's totally normal and natural - I was built to do this! And yet, so completely wondrous. I am growing a person, you guys! And I can feel him moving around inside! Being pregnant is amazing!!

It must be the belly.

I was parking the car yesterday, on my way to buy some tank tops for me and some pants for Allen. I got out of the car and was getting my purse out when a random woman walking by stopped and said, "You look so cute!"

Let me back up a bit. The DC metro area is not, like, a super friendly place. JFK is famously credited with saying the DC has "Southern efficiency and Northern charm." This is not to say that everyone is a jerk, but it's not like a town in the South where people say hello to you on the street (even when they don't know you! gasp!). Everyone mostly keeps to themselves, and everyone complains about how ridiculous the tourists are. (Stand on the right, walk on the left! Jeez!!)

Every once in a great while, if you are in DC proper, with a map and looking lost, someone will stop and ask if you need help finding something. But generally speaking, it's head down (or on cell phone or iPod) and no eye contact. I generally employ these tactics myself. It's a big city, and if I'm walking somewhere by myself, I'd prefer to not run the risk of getting trapped by a crazy person. (There are plenty of those, too.)

So when that woman stopped the other day to offer four small words of kindness, I was both surprised and really, really touched. It literally made my day. Now, I think I'm pretty cute in general, if a bit, um, well fed at this stage, but honestly, no one was stopping me before to offer compliments on my appearance. I have noticed that I get more smiles, more offers of assistance, more random kindness, and easier access to bathrooms now that I am preceded everywhere by a baby bump. It's like magic and I love every minute of it.

Maybe that's the secret to a polite and caring society - just pretend everyone you meet is pregnant.

The massive to-do list.

It is chaos around here. Absolute, complete and utter chaos.

Usually we can keep it in check a little, but with me trying to make it through my last rating period at work, Allen taking a promotion and a new work detail, being pregnant, and everything else... Well, the to-do list has gotten out of hand. We've crossed some things off - like getting a new mattress and painting the baby's room - but that has also added new things to the list. Like buying a new bed frame, getting rid of the old mattress, getting rid of the futon and the sewing table, painting the bedroom, rearranging and reorganizing. We also have to buy furniture for the baby's room, hire a birth assistant, find a pediatrician. All in addition to the normal things like laundry and dinner and social obligations. Feeling tired yet? Yeah... Me too.

We're just in that really awkward stage of slowly getting prepared with new stuff and needing to get rid of old stuff, but running out of room because we currently have both the new and old in the house. The second bedroom is closed off with three huge boxes holding the new mattress. I can't even fit in there any more between my belly and the furniture. The easiest solution would be to just donate everything to Goodwill, but our futon was kind of pricey and it seems a shame to not try to recoup some of that.

The good news is that the laundry is almost done, I have a good lead on a birth assistant, and a meeting set up with a highly recommended pediatrician. I also have an appointment with a chiropractor for tomorrow. I'm probably most excited about that. I have a pinched nerve in my pelvis and it's been driving me crazy for about six weeks now. It's only going to get worse as I get further along, so I figured it was time to nip it in the bud.

Sorry this post is so rambley. This is my state of mind lately. I'm trying to focus on one small thing at a time so I don't get overwhelmed with the daunting number of tasks we have ahead of us. Wish me luck!

The first cold.

It's official. I am sick. At first I thought it might be allergies, but no such luck. I have a full on horrific cold. If I ever find the outbreak monkey who gave me this wretched virus I will do them bodily harm.

I called the midwives to ask about cold remedies and got this as an answer:

"If you treat a cold it lasts 7 days. If you do nothing, it lasts a week."

Two days down, five to go. And I plan on whining through each and every one of them. I am miserable! Runny nose, crazy sneezing fits, watering eye - just one, mind you. My left eye. I've been walking around the house looking like Popeye for the last two days. And trying to knit with one eye open and one shut is no fun. It seriously messes with your depth perception. Adding to the fun, apparently pregnant women tend to have more swollen nasal passages so I can look forward to more mucus and sneezing than a not pregnant person. Fabulous.

Someone, please, make it end! I'll be waiting on the couch with tea and tissues.

Pros and cons.

I have heard women say how much they loved being pregnant. I would smile politely but secretly think that they were crazy. I mean, I didn't expect to hate being pregnant (though some do that, too), but who loves being on a restricted diet and activity schedule for almost ten months? No glass of wine with dinner? No pints at the pub? No roller coasters?! Okay, that last one is a bit silly since I don't go on roller coasters frequently enough to matter, but still. It's the principle.

So, when I got pregnant, I was excited, obviously, but I realized that I would immediately have to cut out coffee and alcohol, and if I could make to the Harry Potter theme park in Orlando, I probably couldn't go on any of the rides. What I didn't expect is that I love it.

I love being pregnant. I love that I am the vessel, I love that I am growing a person (!), I love choosing a meal knowing that my baby is going to get a taste of whatever I eat, and hopefully, will love some of the same things I love. (Though he may be mad at me about how much garlic I eat...) What I love most of all is feeling him move. Feeling that little squirm in my belly that lets me know he's happy and kickin'. And recently, though it's a little creepy in an Alien (the movie) sort of way, I love watching my belly move from the outside. It makes me proud that I am nourishing him and he is getting stronger every day.

I even love the smell of Allen's coffee in the morning, knowing I can't (shouldn't) have any. And I love the smell of the beer he has occasionally. I also love getting a decaf latte occasionally. It feels like such a treat now. Maybe I'm learning to appreciate simple pleasures that I took for granted before I got pregnant? Who knows. But I love it, anyway.

Having said all that, there are a few things I could do without. The first is the pinched nerve in my right hip. It is agony and has been for about six straight weeks now. And the midwives tell me it won't go away - it will only get worse as I progress. I hobble out of bed every morning, and stairs? No fun. Especially since I have to climb and descend them 15 million times a day to pee. The second is the near constant stitch in my left rib cage. It is driving me insane. Sitting on the birthing ball helps with that, somewhat, but I would pay real money to make that go away. I know it can be one of the symptoms of pre-eclampsia, but my blood pressure is fantastic and I don't have other symptoms. I think it's just sitting for long periods with crappy posture.

As I get farther along, I'm getting bigger and more waddley. I love my belly and love showing it off in maternity clothes, but getting out of bed is getting more difficult. Particularly when I have to wrestle with a body pillow, covers and cats who do not want to give up their warm spots. All in all, I'm pretty surprised though. I never expected to love this, so it feels like another amazing gift. The first was getting pregnant, the second was loving (almost) every minute of it. (Except maybe the hip thing. That I could do without. I think it might be time for a chiropractor...)

The good and the... less good.

We had our first appointment with the midwives. It was everything we expected. They also have student midwives who intern at the practice, which is fine. We are fine with having a student sit in on our visits. Except... Except the student right now is our Bradley Method instructor.

Sigh.

While she was taking down my history, she took the opportunity to lace into me yet again about being vegan. This time suggesting that my life-long, runs-in-my-family, started-around-the-onset-of-puberty, I-know-my-triggers-are-sugar-chocolate-and-red-wine migraines are due to the fact that I don't eat animal protein. For eff's sake! I explained that I got migraines when I did eat animal protein - milk, eggs, cheese - but she dismissed that as not "real" animal protein. Look lady. Animal protein is animal protein - milk, eggs, chicken, beef... It's all "animal protein", The midwife finally had to cut her off. 1. Because it was clear that I was getting pissed. 2. Because they have a whole visit designed to evaluate your diet and this wasn't it. And 3. I am clearly not malnourished, nor is my baby. In fact, this same student was concerned that I was measuring too large for how far along I was. Oh, until she realized that I was actually 24 weeks and not 22. And measuring 24-25 cm at 24 weeks and 3 days pregnant is perfect. Needless to say, this "student" is not invited back to any of my exams. Luckily, she's only there until December, but still. We. Are. Done.

Whether you agree with my diet or not, continually badgering me about it is only going to piss me off and make me defensive. And I take great umbrage at people who think they are diet experts because they follow the latest diet trend. (Ahem, paleo...) I am vegan, but I would never suggest that it's the only correct diet. I wouldn't even suggest that most people should be vegan! So it greatly offends me to be questioned over and over again about something I have done a ton of research on. It also feels like she's criticizing my parenting before I've even gotten started! She seems to be suggesting, less subtly each time, that I am in some way harming my unborn child. Let me be the first to tell you, I would have gone back to eating diary a long time ago if it was best for my baby. Or if my brand of veganism was in any way harmful. And since my old OB/GYN signed off on my diet, I think the Bradley instructor can go fu... Take a flying leap.