A secret.

So, apparently there's a secret about stretch marks that no one tells you. Actually, come to think of it, there are a lot of things about pregnancy that are like that. Little secrets that no one ever tells you that you find out yourself along the way and then you wonder, "Why didn't anyone tell me this?!" Well, I'm blowing the cover off the pregnancy secrets. You heard it here first, folks.

So, stretch marks. Here's the secret about them: they hurt! Okay, okay. Not like agonizing, gut-wrenching pain. More like three day old bruise. But still. Also, you can feel them - with your fingers. I still can't see my stretch marks without a mirror, but if I rub my fingers across my lower belly, I can feel the ridges where the stretch marks have opened. Oh, and? Once those bad boys show up they are like freaking zippers. Ziiiiiiiiiiiip. They start small, but now my lower belly looks like a river delta, with purple-red streaks fanning up towards my belly button. I was so proud of myself for escaping them for more than six months, but now it looks like I'm paying for that delay. I don't know if anyone in the history of stretch marks has gotten this many, this bad. I'm really not kidding when I say they almost completely cover my lower abdomen.

It's not pretty. The vain part of me mourns the loss of the smooth skin of my belly and feels like my skin is ruined. The realistic part of me knows that this is the price I am paying for our son, and I pay it gladly. They'll fade over time, and in the long run, I get a miracle out of the bargain.

P.S. One more pregnancy secret: you will poop while giving birth. Most likely in front of strangers. It's a fact. The baby's head squeezes out whatever is in your intestines on the way out, like toothpaste out of a tube. And someone else will be wiping your butt because you'll still be trying to push out a baby. Maybe that's the real reason for the high c-section rate? Women found out at month seven that they'd poop on a table in front of strangers and said, "Oh hell no!" and opted for a c-section instead? It's certainly tempting... (Kidding. a c-section is major abdominal surgery and I maintain that it should only be used in emergencies. A 40% national average for deliveries via c-section is criminal and dangerous.)

Butterfingers... and toes.

Being pregnant makes you clumsy. Who knew?! I seriously cannot hold on to anything these days. I've stopped picking up fragile things because it's only a matter of time before I fumble it out of my fingers and break it. I'm like Chunk holding the frame in the attic in "Goonies".

My klutziness reached a new level this past weekend, though. I am now seven months pregnant (31 weeks), and getting big enough that my center of balance is off kilter. We have beautiful hardwood floors in our house, including a staircase that runs from the bedrooms upstairs to the main floor of the house. I am always extremely careful on these stairs, especially in the winter as socks + hardwood stairs = slippery disaster. I have a fear, nay, phobia, of falling down stairs while pregnant, so I generally clutch the handrail like I'm trying to strangle it. Well, this past weekend, as I neared the bottom of said stairs, I put the arch of my socked foot down on the edge of the step, and faster than you can say "Kristy Yamaguchi", that foot went flying out from under me. (I'm lovin' the 80's pop culture references today...) I landed hard on my butt and hit my back on the stair above my butt and then slid down two more stairs before finally coming to rest. As falls go, this was nothing. It was really just me sitting down hard, plus a bruise on my back. There are no other repercussions (other than the bruise), and the baby is still kicking up a storm and growing like crazy. I wasn't hurt, but man oh man, did it scare the crap out of me. I sat there for a while - Allen jumped out of his chair to come to my aid, and our house guest ran up from the basement to make sure I was okay - and after about 20 minutes of assuring myself that we were all okay, I burst into tears.

Hi. My name is Autumn and I'm pregnant and emotional.

It was the relieved but shaken and a little freaked out kind of crying, so I just got it out of my system and moved on. I think being so close to the end but still having an appreciable amount of pregnancy left is kind of an emotional landmine. I've talked about milestones before - the first trimester, the first heartbeat, the 20 week ultrasound - and we've hit them all. But now we're in no-man's land. The baby is gaining weight and prepping to be born, and I'm just willing him to stay in there until the right time. I know a few friends and friends of friends who have had their babies way too early and I am terrified of that outcome. It's a hard road to travel and watching a good friend go through it first-hand really brought home how scary it is and how helpless you are in the end. Maybe I'm dwelling on this because of the miscarriage? Or maybe it's just because I'm a control freak and I can't control anything about this? (Let's be honest here. It's probably the latter...)

Whatever the cause, I'm trying to let it go. I can't control when the baby will make his entrance. I can only plan and try to stay as healthy as possible. And maybe be extra careful on those stairs from now on... Or buy grippy soled socks.

Meatless Monday: Italian Soup

My Mom came up with this recipe and I am here to tell you it is fantastic. We made this the other night and both had huge bowls and then seconds even though our stomachs were full to hurting. It's that tasty. You can thank me when you wake up from the food coma. This makes a huge pot, so feel free to halve the recipe or just be thankful you have leftovers for lunch for a few days. Also, the orzo soaks up most of the liquid by the second day, so you might need to add more when reheating for round two.

Italian Soup a la Mama

olive oil (for sauteing)
1 onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced (this is highly variable - Mom used 2, we used 5 or 6.)
1 Tbsp fennel seeds
2 stalks celery, diced
1 pkg Tofurkey Italian Sausage (or your fave vegan sausage), chopped
2 cans diced tomatoes (and juices)
2 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 bag frozen (organic) chopped spinach
1 pkg orzo or other tiny pasta
12 cups of water, broth or combo

Method:
Saute onions in olive oil for a few minutes to soften, then add garlic, fennel, celery and sausage. Once that starts smelling delicious and the onion is pretty translucent, add everything else except the beans (you don't want to burn or caramelize the onions and garlic, though so watch them and add in liquid before that point). You may need to adjust the amount of liquid based on the pasta you choose, and whether you want more of a soup or a stew. Bring to a boil and boil gently for 8-10 minutes to cook the orzo. Add the beans in and heat through for a few minutes. Serve as is or with garlic bread.

The Duggars.

Everyone who has a TV probably knows that Michelle Duggar had a miscarriage. A second trimester miscarriage. I feel awful for her, especially since getting to the second trimester is usually such a huge relief in terms of making it past the most risky miscarriage time. There is a great blog post on Babble.com about insensitivity toward miscarriages and how the Duggar's tragedy has stirred a lot of it up. The bottom line is that whether you have zero children or 20, a miscarriage is still a lost child. An extremely painful experience. It wasn't her fault, but she has to bear not only her loss and sadness, but also everyone else's judgments in the public eye.

My heart grieves for her and her family.

Read the blog post here:
Duggar miscarriage shows insensitivity.

So I quit my job...

And somehow I have even less free time. How did that happen? The good news is that the groceries are bought, the laundry is done, the Christmas gifts are all purchased, the car has gas and the house is slowly getting cleaner. I think I'm in the middle of a perfect storm of holiday prep work, baby prep work, trying to find a routine and trying to be a good housewife and assuage some guilt over the fact that I just single-handedly halved our income.

I know I keep coming back to this, but Allen is amazing. He has commented more than once how awesome it is to have someone at home taking care of domestic stuff. I'm not sure why, but for some reason I keep waiting for him to come home and complain about how I'm not doing my fair share since I'm not working at the Patent Office any more. Maybe it's bad juju leftover from a long-ago relationship? Maybe it's guilt that I am doing something I love instead of stuck at a computer doing drudge work that I hate? Probably the latter, combined with the halving the income thing. Plus, since I hated my job so much, I feel guilty that Allen has to still work at it. But really, he actually likes his job. So I'm not sure what my problem is. I'm keeping it to myself for now. (You know, other than publicly posting it on the interwebs for all to see...) I know it will pass - it's just transitional jitters.

So apologies for the unintentional hiatus. I hope to get into a more regular routine. I can't believe how fast Christmas is coming! And then Butterbean will make his appearance not to long after! This is crazy, people! I feel like time is water slipping through my fingers, and no matter how I cup my hands I just can't hold onto it. Since the Internet is the biggest time suck on the planet, I guess I should walk away from the computer now and go finish folding clothes...

A transition.

This week was my last official work week. I'm not transitioning from working from home to working at home.

I can't even tell you how excited I am about this. I'm making plans for errands and projects for next week, though I am taking a "day off" to do nothing but revel in the fact that I don't have to clock in to work anymore. It's not all bon-bons and soap operas, though. (Even though I am eating gummy bears right now...)

I am so lucky to have a husband who understands and appreciates the value of having someone at home to take care of domestic stuff. I'm really looking forwards to getting our weekends back. Up until now, with both of us working full time, our weekends have been devoted to running errands, cleaning and catching up on things we didn't have time for during the week. Now, with one person home, a lot of that will get done while Allen is at work, and we can actually spend weekends enjoying each other's company instead of making endless lists of all the things we need to accomplish.

I have a long to-do list to accomplish before Butterbean arrives - not the least of which is actually setting up his nursery! But I also have some major house cleaning to do, Christmas cards to organize, and generally settling into a routine of domesticity. I have been feeling a twinge of guilt this week, leading up to my last day at work. I feel a bit guilty making Allen responsible for all the income earning. But I try to remind myself that though I am not providing a paycheck anymore, I am still working. I think the guilt will subside once I fall into a rhythm of house-wifery. I have been waiting for this day for a long time, and I can't believe it's finally here! It bears repeating (over and over): I am so lucky to have Allen as a husband. So, so lucky.

And grapefruit gummy bears are the best.

28 weeks.

Things I l earned at my 28 week check-up:

1. If you hit a vein just right when taking blood, it will spray blood all over your white sweater.

2. Midwives are excellent at getting blood out of things, particularly white sweaters. (The key is peroxide.)

3. I gained 20 pounds in the first six months of pregnancy. I gained 10 more in the last month. I am displeased. I blame Thanksgiving.

4. Midwives have no magic cure or salve or potion or spell to prevent stretch marks. They are just the price of admission to pregnancy. Sure, some women escape without them, but I, sadly, am not one of them. Body butter, olive oil and the like will help your skin feel soft and smooth, and helps prevent the itching associated with dry and stretching skin, but it doesn't prevent stretch  marks, either. It's all about age and genetics. I appear to have gotten the short end of the stick in both categories. Which I protest mightily, given that my mother claims to have gotten no stretch marks. (Gray hair is also delayed or non-existent in the women on my Mom's side, but that didn't stop my first one from popping up around age 31... Again, I protest!!)