14 Weeks!

I took this picture right after dinner, when I really felt like a big cow. I think even my boobs get bigger after dinner. They are used to store a part of my stomach and spleen now. Speaking of my new pregnancy rack, I come to realize they are like a pair of really hot heels that are not meant to be walked in. They are fun to look at, but by the end of the night I just ache for my fleece-lined house shoes. Oh, how I long to be flat-chested again. Oh, and thanks to Rachel for reminding me about the pic. Trying to take a belly picture without accidentally capturing Girls Gone Wild type of moment proved to be a welcoming distraction.

I got my USAREUR driver's license today. I was enjoying walking everywhere and not having to deal with cars and traffic, but being able to drive becomes a necessity now that My Love's not home and my tail bone is acting up. Ok, I'm gonna call it an early night and nurse this heartburn. Later!

Kicked the Dog

I kicked Paddy on his big rump this morning and have spent all morning apologizing to him. It had to be done, however. I was taking the boys out for a morning walk/gimp. For those of you who are not familiar with my youngest child's rambunctiousness, I need to tell you that normally he's an angel on a leash. He has a regal trot of a canine Clydesdale. That is until he sees 1) fat squires, 2) much-too-happy cats, 3) smug rabbits, and/or 4) other dogs who look like they might want to play. When he sees one or combination of the above, he just goes. Paddy is the strongest dog I've ever met. He's 83 pounds of sinewy muscles and 2 pounds of hair and teeth. When he gets into this drunken donkey trance, he would lurch forward, buck repeatedly, yank, pull, and run with everything he's got. I usually try to hold on to the end of the leash with my dear life, and it normally gets me dragged down the street, on my back or side. I once threw myself on top of him in hope that he might get the message. He just shrugged it off, stood up straight on all four, and carried me with him. So far, I have mangled my thumb, skinned my palms, enjoyed road rash on my side, arms, and back, and sported bruises as a result of my futile attempts. We've tried everything short of a shock collar, which Wil is lobbying for. I just can't do it. Not yet anyway. So back to today. We were walking uphill on a pavement slick with last night's rain. Then he spotted her. A pretty chocolate lab. With a wagging tail and a tennis ball in her mouth. If that's not an invitation for fun, then what is? The problem was she was about 30 feet below us on a downhill slope. With his first forward lurch, my foot hit a slick spot and I started to fall backward. Thankfully, the other foot had enough wits to step back and catch our fall. He kept jumping and yanking, and I had a vision of me, Brutus, and The Fetus being dragged downhill on our stomachs by this manic ball of fur. I had to do something big to break the trance. So I kicked him on his fleshy tush. He whipped around to look at my face faster than I could yell his name. I could have sworn those big Puss-in-Boots eyes were filled with tears. People around us were already half way done reporting animal abuse to the MPs by the time we started moving in an orderly fashion again. I gave him a bit more food when we got home to buy his love back. And it seemed to work. He's taking his morning nap right by my feet.

Thank you for your encouraging words about Wil being gone. I know I'm just one of thousands of military wives in the same boat, but that's not really the main reason why I'm super upset. I'm pissed that someone is picking on my husband and I can't do a damn thing about it. This certain person has been treating My Love as if he was a sham because of his injury. Look here, Stupid, My Soldier has served honorably for these past 9 years. He was injured 3 deployments ago during a mission in a war zone. And nobody wanted to fix him. Until now that he's beginning to lose feelings in his leg. Feelings that he won't get back. Yet, he will be the first to raise up his hand when anyone asks for a volunteer. And this is how you treat him? So much for leading by example. You are on my It-List. Mark my word, if he comes back home hurt more than he did when he left, you can kiss your sweet retirement good-bye. You don't mess with my family. Ok, I feel better now. Shall proceed with more light-hearted stories of doggie farts as a result of fat boy food. Right after I get my driver's license today. Wish me luck!

Can't Catch a Break

"We've been through worse than this, Baby. Don't cry" he said and softly kissed my forehead.
"I know" I mumbled back in the most upbeat voice I could muster between sniffles.

He had to go to the field because someone who wore higher rank said that he was not spitting up blood RIGHT NOW and therefore good enough to tough it out, even though he never even glanced at Wil's profile or spoke to any of his doctors or surgeons. So My Love left before sunrise with 3 enormous bags. Luckily, his direct supervisors were pretty understanding and already found him a boring desk job. He might even make it back to his appointments. Let's hope so. We don't need the surgery to be delayed any more, since the baby will be coming even before he heals up. I'm thankful I felt better just in time to have a couple of good days together before he had to leave. I know we've been through a lot worse than this but I'm just so upset and frustrated with his chain of command. That compounds with pregnancy hormones lead to nothing good. I know things will look up soon but right now it's just difficult to deal. I'll write more when I feel better.

A New Day

Joy to the World, I'm on the last week of the first trimester!!! I must say that things have been on the ups these past few days. I sorted through my first pile of smelly dirty laundry without wanting to churn my inside out. I haven't thrown up any nutritious things, even those that contain fiber. I heated up the contents of a few boxes and lovingly arranged them on pretty plates, and my Beloved and I sat down for our dinner. At the dinning room table! And afterward, we spent the evening being our goofy selves, walking the dogs, comparing the size of our bellies, and experiencing how easy it was to fall in love with each other in the first place, again (now, commence projectile vomiting!). Mom, you weren't kidding. Life is rosy again! Bring on the heartburn and stabbing headaches! Is that all you've got Sciatic Nerve? I've got non-sodium Rolaids, multiple bottles of Tylenol, and heating pads. And I'm here all night.

Lots of good things happened today but I'm so happy I'm gonna go vacuum something instead of writing. Pregnancy crazies 1,647, Uma 1!

P.S. Heard the heartbeat again today. Still going strong at 160!

Child Bearing Hips, Etc.

I definitely don't have one of those and was slightly concerned. But then I remembered that there were billions of people in China. Lots who suffer severe Asian-flat-ass syndrome yet seemingly having no trouble over populating the earth. My mom never really went into specific details about our birth stories (or she would never have gotten a grandchild, except for the four-legged variety). All I remembered was that she went into labor sometimes in the evening and eventually gave birth to me almost 24 hours later. 24 hours and no epidural! And then she volunteered to do it again, and again! With no drugs! The woman is obviously a masochist. My grandma was in labor with my mom for 2 days. 2 DAYS! Needless to say, she was also a masochist since she repeated the same horror 3 more times after that. Being pregnant gave me a new pair of eyes to look at these lovely women in my life and adore them even more than I thought possible. I marvel at their strength and quiet pride when they look at what they have brought into the world, all from their 5-foot-or-under frames.

It's a tradition in my family that the kids spend their summer break from school with the grandparents. I honestly don't recall spending any significant amount of time in the concrete jungle that was Bangkok during the summer. At least not until I was heading into secondary school (grade 6-12) and things became so ridiculously competitive that Bangkok kids had to spend their summer vacation in tutoring schools if they wanted a shot at getting into decent secondary schools and colleges. Even so, my parents were adamant that we spent some parts of the summer with the grandparents. My grandparents lived in the southern part of Thailand. The trips there were always magical. Sometimes mom and dad could drive us there (12 hours!), but most of the times we were sent on a train with our nanny. The things I loved most about the train were the food and our sleeping quarters. At every train stop, vendors carrying local foods would come up to the windows offering the season's finest selections. Fresh foods, veggies, and fruits. Lots of them were on sticks. It was like a Disney World of Edible Things I Had Never Seen Before. As if that wasn't enough fun already, after dinner time, 3 strong men in dark navy uniforms would come around to convert our seats into our very own sleeping cabins. With crisp white sheets, fluffy pillows, and springy rubber mattresses! I never slept so well as on those trains. And that was just getting there. I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to properly articulate the joy those summer memories bring. I have lots of grandparents. Of course, I have the usual 2 sets like everybody else but in Thailand we also call their siblings grandmas and grandpas. And why not? They all have had their hands in raising and loving us just like any other grandparents. It seemed their mission for the summer was to feed us all those things city kids were "deprived" of, and my siblings and I were only too humble to oblige. You think Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at your house were huge? My grandmas cooked like that on most weeknights. And we were to finish EVERYTHING. Seriously, it wasn't uncommon to find me at a kitchen table around 10 o'clock, still eating. Not because I had to, but because it was so damn good I couldn't stop.

But most importantly, I learned to be a kid with my grandparents. I learned to climb trees to pick fruits or just because I wanted to climb. I saw where eggs come from when I had to retrieve them in the morning before breakfast. I learned where the Big Dipper was lying outside on the cool marble patio after dinner, holding my dessert of papaya that was shaped like a foot-long sword. I almost lost a tooth eating a yard-long stick of sugar cane that my grandpa cut for me. I played King of the Hill outside in the rain. I played with guns and horses that were made from the banana tree trunk. I swam in creeks. Ran barefoot and learned why I shouldn't do it. I learned to kick box and crochet, all in one busy summer. I saw where we came from. I learned to appreciate when my parents said "when I was your age, we didn't have anything." I saw the lands the grandparents before my grandparents farmed rice and rubber trees to put food on the table and their kids through school. I saw where their bones were kept. I met really old perfect strangers, who came up to me crying and kept telling me how much I looked like my grandparents and greatgrandparents and what great people they were. I can not teach my children this. They have to be there to learn it for themselves, just like I did. For the first time in a very long time, I heard a spark in my dad's voice when I mentioned summer vacation. He said we weren't going to get the baby back after the summer. Speaking like a true grandpa.

"Is It Hot in Here or It's Just Me?"

When Wil replies to this question of mine, he's normally under 4 layers of blankets and sheets. Even though the sound is muffled and most of his body and head are covered, I can still hear the desperation in his voice and sense the piercing death ray that shoots out of his eyes. "Honey, it's 40 degrees outside and raining, all the doors and windows are opened, and the fans are on. It is most definitely not hot in here. Your thermostat is broken!" And itdeed it is. I have no ability to control my own temperature. I used to get chills at the beginning of pregnancy. Now I have mostly hot flashes, with an occasional cold spell. It's a really sick joke, Mother Nature. Last night we went to a Mexican restaurant and I thought I was going to pass out as soon as I walked through the door. I'm sure to other people, the warmth inside was a welcoming change to the manic weather outside. The hostess seated us and I practically swiped a glass of iced water out of her hands. Wil said the wives of the people who were seated next to us weren't entirely too happy with me when I started soaking napkins with cold water and put it on my neck, face, and chest, since it seemed to distract their husbands during dinner. Trust me, if I could have dinner in the bathroom, I probably would. But since it was a rare occasion that we actually made it out of the house to have a date night, I thought I could stick it out for my poor husband, who seemed rather amused with the swollen human who was wrapped in wet paper napkins seating opposite from him. In the ultimate romantic gesture, he blew out the lone candle at our dinner table. I did seriously think about going around snubbing out other people's candles, but that might be pushing my pregnancy luck a touch too far.

We had a fun weekend, finally. Wil's unit threw a really great Halloween party for the soldiers and their families on Friday. It had to be a bit early because our guys are heading out to the field again very soon. The kids were entertained by all kinds of bouncy castles, games, food and lots of candy. They even got to use their parents as paint ball targets. The soldiers got to relax a bit before trying to kill each other during a paint ball tournament. After dark, the paint ball trail was turned into a "haunted" trail to scare the happy memories of the day out of poor little children. Wil's section was responsible for the trail, which was on a side of a muddy hill and quite a challenge to navigate through in the dark. One of Wil's young soldiers took me as his charge and practically shepherded me around. He even chased the "ghosts" away from me. It was so incredibly sweet of him. Oh, and I really do know my man. I spotted him behind a mask hanging from a tree. In the dark! Needless to say, he limped home, was incredibly sore over the weekend, but thrilled that the event turned out perfectly.

In the Steinham household, trash talking during college football season can be considered a foreplay. We both really miss our Saturday ritual of football watching, so much so that we come up with a new tradition. We "watch" football on the internet now. By watching, I mean going to espn or cnnsi websites and waiting for the live update to come up on screen. We watch little red dots move. A few moments later, a caption will come up and say something like "Wells carries 5 yards to the 45th yard line. First down." Only true fans like us do this! By Sunday morning, espn.com normally has series of short video clips from all the games from Saturday up on their website. So that's another couple of hours of breakfast and football in bed for us. Wil had courtesy patrol duty again this past Saturday and naturally I couldn't sleep, so I was watching Auburn VS LSU game waiting for him to come home. The game started at 3 a.m. our time and I fell asleep just around the time the sun was coming up and there were about 7 minutes left in the fourth quarter. Crap. I knew it was going to come down to the last minute, as it always does when Auburn plays LSU. I was generally proud of the way Auburn played. Even though the offense couldn't do much, our defense put up a good fight and didn't just hand them an easy victory. I always like how we play LSU, winning or not. It's guaranteed to be very physical and tough--the epitome of what an SEC game should look like. LSU is a respectable opponent and I wouldn't mind one bit if they represent our conference in the national title game. Of course, I never can say the same thing about 'Bama or Ole Miss (OMG, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE VOLS?!?). Wil and his beloved Ohio State are still bragging about their undefeated season (c'mon, schedule strength?). If it ends up to be SEC VS Big Ten at the end again, we're going to have to find a real tv with live broadcast. And lots of witnesses to Mr. Steinham putting his pregnant wife in a choke hold.

Even the boys got to have their play date. There were at the park for over 2 hours, playing with a bunch of fun puppies, and of course, Guinness on Saturday afternoon. I still haven't remembered to bring the camera with me. Sigh.

While You Were Sleeping

Wouldn't you know that the next update will be coming from the wee hour of the morning? Pregnancy has turned me into a full blown insomniac and it really bothers me that the only way that I can sleep through the night is with the help of drugs like Benedryl or Phenergan that knocks me out for 16 hours and leaves me incredibly groggy afterward (FYI: I had to take Phenergan after three days of bad all-day sickness. I have no idea if it actually helps with my nausea because I am normally too busy sleeping). I'm going to discuss it with my midwife, but it's apparently a common symptom. Sigh.

My friend Ariel asks me what I do at night when I'm not sleeping. Good question, Ariel! Well, as a loyal fan of Dave Letterman, I shall give you my top 10 list of "Things I Do When You People are Asleep."

10. I take care of nature call. A lot. I was 2" wide before getting knocked up, so growing room is limited. Baby 1, Bladder 0.
9. I eat. As soon as I open my eyes, my stomach demands food. I just had a bowl of warm chicken soup with rice. Normally I'd have cereal first, but ramen noodles work wonders to stop the "counter flow" action. And I have been slightly obsessed with frozen cubed mangoes lately. It's like eating ice cream without a side of guilt. Yum.
8. I watch stuff on YouTube. We don't have cable here and I can't watch my favorite shows online because of the location. Thank goodness for YouTube. So far, Gossip Girl is my current season's guilty pleasure. It's like reliving my high school experience with a lot more money, booze, boys, awesome clothes, and really long legs in short skirts. Ok, so it's nothing like my high school, but it's still way fun.
7. I dream of sleeping. Pretty self-explanatory? Good times, good times.
6. I annoy my dogs. Because they can sleep through hurricanes and I'm slightly envious. Nothing is cuter than sleeping puppies, so I sometimes wake them up to tell them. Their normal response to my smothering them at 2 a.m. is a grunt that is followed by migration to the couch. Ungrateful mutts. I just want a hug.
5. I read stuff on the internet. Lots of news, time.com, nytimes.com, baby stuff, my peep's blogs, and gossip sites, etc. I read the interesting stuff first in hope that the boring stuff at the end will put me to sleep. Has not worked out so far, since I know far more about Britney Spears' vagina than anyone really should.
4. I update my blog. At least one good thing comes out of insomnia. Now you'd better enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears!
3. I talk to Wil's sleeping head. I offered to go be awake in the living room, but Wil asked me to stay in bed with him. Supposedly, a warm body, even an awake one, in bed keeps him asleep. Thankfully, he has not found Paddy to be a fine substitute. Since I'm sitting up next to this sleeping man for 4-6 hours a night, I feel compel to talk to him. The fun thing to do is to say random things to the back of his head and see if he remembers it in the morning. So far he remembers my apologizing to him for being a bad wife and a barfer.
2. I eat again. Because eyeball muscles and fingers also get tired and need to be fed after a long night of internet surfing.

*And my #1 "Thing I Do When You People are Asleep" is...*

1. I worship at the alter of Mark Bittman. For those of you who don't know, Mark Bittman is a food journalist for NY Times. His column is called "The Minimalist" and the man knows his way around the kitchen. He's not a trained chef but obviously is someone who loves to eat. His recipes are always simple (hence "The Minimalist") and contain a few quality ingredients that don't require fancy cooking method or much time. NY Times has a very well-designed website that also offers short video clips to accompany the featured stories. I was in food porn heaven when I found his "The Minimalist" video archive. Really looking forward to his PBS series of traveling and discovering new food in Europe with Gwyneth Paltrow. How cool is he!?! Mark Bittman, I want to grow up to be just like you. Oh, and the rest of the Dining & Wine section always has cool articles.

So now you know what I do all night. It's unfortunate that it's not more exciting.

Me So Sleepy

I'm in phenergan-induced coma. Woke up long enough to take the dogs out and fed them. My brain has turned into mush and now lacks wrinkles. Will write more when I can keep my head upright. Going back to bed.

No Cartoon for You!

I've decided that we're not going to allow our kid to watch tv, much to Wil's dismay because he was really looking forward to having an excuse to watch Sponge Bob. And please understand that I'm not criticizing your parental skills if you do allow your children to do so. It is the right decision for us. I feel like I have to put out this disclaimer before going any further because nothing seems to stir up strong emotions from parents like this tv/no tv debate. Wil is a recovering cartoon addict. When we were back in the States and had access to hundreds of channels, the remote control was working overtime going back and forth between ESPN and the Cartoon Network. And he could do that all day long. So we went cold turkey when we came here. Every once in a while, Wil would come up to hang out at the video store and put a cartoon in our DVD player. You should see the crowd that start to gather around the tv. No one is taller than my husband and most still need their parents' help to get dress in the morning. But they all have this blank expression and their eyes seem so distant and far away as if hypnotized. I'm sure I'll get enough of that look once The Seed miraculously turns into a teenager, so I'd prefer him/her to be outside playing with the dogs or to earn bad eyesight the right way by reading books in the dark. Not to say that the kid would be utterly deprived of good classics or musicals. But Baby Einstein will not be the thing we reach for once things start to fray. Especially with that new study coming out (well, it was new in August). Bilingual children take a little while longer anyway to sort out the differences in each language's sound, so we know he/she might be babbling in alien code longer, which is perfectly fine. But you can be sure the kid is going to learn to speak from us and not some educational DVD programs.

I mentioned a couple of posts back that we were going to be in a group prenatal visit. It's a wonderful program that is designed to handle this baby boom and give the parents-to-be a chance to be each other's support system. 8-10 mothers are grouped together by the proximity of their due dates, so everyone is going through just about the same phase of the pregnancy. During the two hour visit, there will be guest speakers like nutritionist or psychologist to address issues new parents might be facing, along with other usual prenatal stuff, which will be covered by my awesome midwife, Lt. Col Owen. There will be discussions, answers, shared anxiety, and solutions. Dads are encouraged to attend so they can bond over their ever changing lifestyle while moms bitch about their stretch marks over refreshments. At the end everyone gets one-on-one time with the midwife to check out all the things that need to be done in private. Of course, ultrasound and extra appointments as the due date approaches will be done individually. Absolutely everything will be covered in the two hours, so we won't need to enroll in additional birthing or infant care classes. The first set of moms and dads who went through this program just had their babies and their first postpartum visit. It sounded so sweet to be in a room full of people you went through the journey with for 7 or so months and finally get to see the rewards in bundles. I'm very much looking forward to our first visit on Oct. 24.

Courtesy Patrol

Wil had courtesy patrol duty on Saturday night. He and about 10 other NCOs were assigned to patrol the bars, work with the MPs, and chauffeur the drunk soldiers and family members back on post. He was kind of dreading it because this was one of the last weekends before most of our soldiers had to go back to the field. And it was payday weekend. Have I mentioned that this post is full of very young soldiers, who are eager to take full advantage of German legal drinking age (18)? Yeah. Anyhow, he came home sometimes after 5 a.m. and was in a strangely good mood. I was rather groggy (more on that later) when he crawled in bed and started laughing. He shared with me that he saw some of Baumholder's cream of the crop getting plastered, a guy pooping in his pants while in the courtesy van, an extramarital affair in the making, and a few fights. But his favorite story seemed to be the one involving a wasted German woman, who apparently looked like an overweight 65-year-old Barbie. She was particularly upset with him because he could not give her a ride without a proper military ID and ended up punching him in the chest and knocking off his radio. He said he didn't really realize what had happened until when he saw his radio on the ground. Thank goodness she did punch like a girl. A very very drunk girl. The MPs saw the incident and asked if he wanted to press charges, but Wil was more amused with her than upset. And after she calmed down, she tried to pick him up. I think that it was her way of apologizing. I knew my husband was utterly handsome, especially in his uniform, but I didn't know that he was mighty popular with the drunk toothless crowd. And I was quite awake after he said "...and she punched me!" Oh, no. You don't touch MY man. If I were down there, he would have had to break up yet another fight, because the Baby and I would whoop her behind all the way to the MP station. We'd better not run into her at the commissary. Woman, you will stay clear of me if you know what is good for you.

Ok, I'm calmed down now. I had kind of a hellish Saturday. Remember how I said Wil's immune system just sort of ran out of steam battling that virulent cold virus after 3 weeks? Guess what happened to yours truly? The worst part was that there were no medicines that I could safely take without possibly hurting my little seed. I had to take 2 Tylenols to control the temperature before headed to work. My poor customers at the video store were the unfortunate recipients of my surly treatment last night. I think I'm going to have to bake them some cookies. I came home and had to take 1 Benadryl, so I could at least breath and rest. I have to admit that it was nice to not be fully awake at 3:00 a.m. I'm just so paranoid about taking any medicine at all during pregnancy, even though I know Tylenol and Benadryl are ok.

Bruta and Paddy has a play date with their best friend Guinness today and I'll try to remember the camera. It's so interesting to see the dynamic between the kids. Paddy, a true lab that he is, gets along splendidly with everyone. Brutus, on the other hand, is quite a snob. He knows to be cordial to other dogs but there are very few that he would actually play with. We took him down to the park last weekend and he just sat down by the gate waiting for Guinness to show up and completely ignoring other dogs there. They form their own little clique. There's an argument for nature vs nurture right in front of our eyes.

Proud Papa Anonymous

It's kind of like an AA meeting, but with ultrasound pictures instead of booze or drugs as the poison of choice. This is what I have planned for Wil. All kidding aside, nothing makes my heart go petter patter like when I see my husband pulling out an ultrasound picture that he's been carrying in his uniform pocket to conduct his very own show and tell. It's always accompanied by a little story and a jig. I'll leave it to your imagination. He's only days away from pinning down perfect strangers on the sidewalk and making them coo at this picture of perfect little black and white dots. Seriously. I adore this man.

So, It Appears I Have Something Growing in There...

We had our first ultrasound today. Exciting stuff. Didn't go exactly as planned, but it wouldn't be in keeping with the Steinham fashion if it did. We had the last appointment of the day, at 3 p.m., in Baumholder. Or so we thought. We showed up 15 minutes early like a couple of enthused first timers. Then the check-in lady told us that our doctor wasn't there. If you remember, we worked it out with the last nurse to where we would get to see the traveling OB doctors Landstuhl was sending to Baumholder. Well, our nurse was either not paying attention to the calendar or on crack, because we were informed that Dr. Jackson was seeing his patients at Landstuhl today. While I was still fuming at the check-in counter, Wil started a slow jog to our car. He was determined to see his baby today and not even high speed projectile vomiting could dampen his will. We called and explained the situation to the people at Landstuhl. They were nice enough and said they would wait even if we were a touch late. Baumholder is 30-40 minutes away from Baumholder. Don't asked me how we got there at 3:15 p.m. It wasn't pretty but we got there. Apparently we weren't the only victims of the calendargate. The past was behind us and I amused myself with the vending machines in the waiting room (they sure do know their pregnant peeps). Let me tell you, when they say 3 o'clock is the last appointment of the day, they really mean it. We got called in about 3:30 and most of their employees were just about ready to pack their bags. Naturally, our Dr. Jackson sent the tech to ask if it was okay that we were seen by a midwife instead of him. Nice approach to making a good first impression, Doc. I felt like I might have to apologize to him if our baby should decide to come at 3:50 p.m. and subsequently prolong his day. I was more happy that someone could still see us than irritated. And thank God for our mishap because it really couldn't have turned out any better. We saw a lovely midwife and she was a dream. I always have a vision of what things should look like in real life, and so far two of those actually are dead ringers. One was of my first puppy. Little round white furball with a precious face. Conner. Check. A kind professional who would melt all my worries and fears away with her warm assuring smile and usher me through a daunting pregnancy with her steady hands. Check check. I LOVVVVVE HER! She went on to spend over an hour with us, well after the busy hallway fell silent. She made Wil feel comfortable and a part of everything, even during all those necessary evil tests that involved cold and intrusive instruments. It was really nice to have him there holding my hand and give me a sympathetic wince at first sight of blood. Then came the best part. She pulled out a doppler and stressed that there was no need to worry if we couldn't hear the heartbeats right away (it happens), as she was not going to let us leave the office without knowing. And thankfully, as soon as she put the thing on my stomach, we heard fast thumping. She assured us that about 160 beats/minute were perfectly normal. No wonder why this kid is always hungry and causing The Provider to be utterly restless. On to the ultrasound now. I wish I had videotaped Wil's expression. He was ecstatic and giddy like a little boy that we all know he is as soon as something showed up on the screen. Then we saw it. A little human. In the center of the chest cavity, we could see the flutters of his(her) heart. For the first time in my life, I was, and rather still am, speechless. It was almost like watching tv, only the live broadcast was coming from my womb. For the sake of convenience, I'm going to refer to this baby as a "he," since this is how Wil calls it. His reason is "because then I'll only have to worry about one penis." But I know better. A sweet little tomboy will render him utterly powerless and he's already petrified that his answer to "Papa, I want this" would be "Don't you really NEED two?" or "Here's my bank account number, Baby." I have an incredible relationship with my father growing up and I know this baby couldn't have lucked out any more in the dad/daughter department. Back to the ultrasound, the baby appeared to be sleeping or resting ever so comfortably that he refused to move and get into a better position for measuring purposes. Not very cooperative and definitely our kid. We saw one big noggin, with two developing brain halves, a strong beating heart, two arms and fists that were held up by his face, and two long legs that were attached to two little feet. Then as if knowing that he was in the spotlight, he gave us a little jig. It was kind of like a "Twist and Shout" movement. His hips and arms were moving and he moved his little face. After a few more wiggles of his leg, he went back to sleep. A sleeper, this one. We got some cool pictures that Wil will have to scan in later. All and all, our midwife said that everything looked and measured to be just where 11 weeks of pregnancy should. One big exhale. I told her what I had been surviving on and she said the same thing my mom did, which was that for now I should eat whatever I could hold down. Even if it meant potato chips all the time. The focus was to get some calories in me, even though they weren't exactly nutritious. We'll have to focus more on good food once the nausea subsides. Have I mentioned I loveddddd this woman? Oh, and I gained 4 pounds. I just have to sit and relive all those moments of alternating eating and vomiting. How much did I have to eat to have enough surplus of 4 lbs? That is a lot of ramen noodles!

There's more to tell about our new group prenatal visits that we choose. Yes, I said group. But I'd like to try to sleep some. Wish I could bribe our Little Beatle with some Milkbones so I can sleep past 3 a.m.

My First Born Conner

I have been having vivid dreams about Conner. Some nights I woke up with the biggest smile on my face, feeling like my baby was cuddling with me in our bed again. And some other times, like this morning, I woke up in tears. Last night I had a dream that I had to cremate him. By myself. I now have this awful sinking feeling in my stomach, just like the day I had to say goodbye to him. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Con lately. Maybe it's because Wil and I always talked about what an amazing brother he would be to his unborn siblings. When he died, I felt cheated. He was in every plan I made, and never in my wildest dream could I imagine him taken away so young. He came to me when I was drifting through life aimlessly and gave me a purpose. I was a couple of semesters away from graduating from college. Most of my friends were graduating before me and I was about to be left behind, very much alone. Auburn was the only place that felt like home to me since my move to the States 7 years prior. Then I saw this beautiful puppy. It was as if we had known each other all our lives. From the moment he looked up at me with his soulful pond-scum green eyes, which later turned amber, I knew we were going to be a family. He was the epitome of love that fed me. I had been away from home for so long. I missed the birth of so many little cousins and countless family gatherings, where everyone talked over each other while grandmas and aunts took requests of our favorite dishes that would be feasted over endless afternoons. I craved being loved and fussed over. Like when how grandmas always proclaimed that I was too skinny and immediately shoved a plate of food in my face even before I finished saying hi. Or like how my mom never gave up brushing my hair even though she knew that it would never lay flat. Like how my dad always clipped my fingernails for me because he said that I cut them too short. I knew I was lonely but never knew how much until Conner came along. Life was suddenly busy and joyful. I had someone to love, fed, clip nails for, and brush hair that never pointed in the same direction. I remember shadowing his every move, Kleenex in hand ready to wipe his snotty nose, when Con had his first and only cold at 4 months. We celebrated happy occasions together. Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks from school no longer meant being a hanger-on at family gatherings of some kind friends, who took pity on me, and having to silently suppress my jealousy of their family interactions. My friend Kay said that Conner was an old soul that was in a puppy's body. Everyone who knew him, and us together, knew he was a lot more than a canine. When I started working in Fayetteville, I had some seriously horrendous hours. I couldn't even imagine how hard it was for him, going from us being together 24-7 and getting to visit the park and his friends all the time to suddenly spending at least 12-15 hours at a time alone. But he was always a trooper. He would tell me about his day. Some of you had seen him "talk." We could have a full blown conversation well into the night, after our long walk and lots of frisbee run. Almost everyday, neighborhood kids would come knocking on the door asking if Con could come out and play. He was a perfect babysitter. And somehow he knew to check on our little neighbor, who had Down Syndrome, after every lap he run with other rambunctious kids. He would stop to lick her on the cheek, which sent her into a fit of giggles. It was always the highlight of our day. Wil always said that he knew that we would be together pretty much immediately, but Conner was the deal sweetener. I never felt worst than when Wil was away in Iraq. Every night Con and I would huddle together in bed and brace ourselves for the evening news. He would lick the tears from my face, trying to comfort me in his own way. I only wish I could explain to him where his dad was. For that whole long year, I could see his little heart leaping with joy every time he saw a truck from our window. I could write and write for the rest of my days about the love of my life that was Conner. There will never be enough space in this vast internet to store the memories of his every look and sound. He was my child as much as this one I'm carrying in my womb. I'm glad the baby will be born sometimes in April. We lost Conner on April 10, 2006. This past April, I felt like a big rain cloud hovering over my head. It will be nice to be able to celebrate a birth in his memory. For the first time in my life, I want to whole-heartedly believe in reincarnation. I ache for Con. Sorry, Drew and Amanda, if the baby comes out and looks up at me with pond-scum green eyes, that would later turn amber, we will need to have another Conner in our family. Just a different spelling.

It's Picture Time!

I didn't realize it'd been about 2 months since the last time I posted pictures. We've got a lot to catch up on, so let's start!

The boys found that swimming was much more fun when ducks were involved. 8/5/07


Household goods arrived! 8/9/07

Paddy celebrated the arrival of HIS couch by napping in his favorite position. 8/10/07

Grumpy boys in the morning. 8/13/07

Brutus in his chair. 8/23/07

Then, in MINE. 10/7/07

Our living room now.

Our 85-lb-and-still-growing Baby. Wonder where I sleep? Me, too. 10/7/07

Puppies wondering why Papa thinks that studying is more important than going to the park. 10/7/08

"No, Momma, I haven't seen Paddy. I could be happy as the only child" 9/15/07

10 weeks! It really feels a lot chunkier than it looks. And that button is working overtime! 10/1/07
*Also, I'd like to add that my previously solid 2 pack abs are still trying HARD to hold on to our old body and inadvertently cause my growing belly to look slightly like...er...a small derriere. Trust me, it's so tragic I can't make it up.

I'm Hungry! Finally!

I have a sudden craving for all things sweet. Wil has been so incredible while I'm sidelined by all-day sickness and a bad cold. Think I'm gonna do some cooking to surprise my man. Let's hope he doesn't read this until later on tonight. Will post some pictures later on this afternoon.

Now, onto a Serious Subject

In a few weeks, we are supposed to sit in a genetic counseling class. The doctor is supposed to go over what genetic screening tests are going to be available to us and the pros and cons of them. Recently, Dutch, of a lovely blog Sweet Juniper, wrote about his and his wife Wood's experience with a genetic screening for Down Syndrome during their second pregnancy. His poignant post touched a nerve with his fan base, and lengthy discussions ensued in the comment section. Wil and I have been discussing the very same topic even before we got pregnant. My college roommie Sofi and I always went back and forth on our views of abortion. Needless to say, I have thought long and hard about this. Would I ever abort an unwanted pregnancy? No. Would I judge others who choose a different path. No. I'm not in their shoes and I don't know their situation. And it's certainly not my job to judge anyone. Now, what will we do if the battery of tests we are about to face show that the baby will have some kind of birth defect? It depends. I have a cousin, who has a severe brain damage. He was born a healthy baby boy but got gravely ill and became permanently "damaged" while he was a small toddler. The details of what exactly happened were never really talked about, at least to us kids. I didn't see him a lot growing up because we lived far away from each other. But nothing, except for his appearance, ever changed over time. His grew into the body he was supposed to have, a handsome, broad fellow who was over 6' tall. But his brain was stuck in infancy. He had no control of his bodily function, his strength, or even his long limps. I witnessed him nearly chocking his own mother more than one time, because he was excited and wanted to give her a hug. Luckily, his family was well off and able to hire round the clock help. Putting him in some kind of special care home was not a practice in Thailand. What kind of life would they have if they couldn't afford the help? I would be deluded if I don't take into consideration that I am facing raising this child alone for many years while Wil remains in the service. We are so far away from our family support. Yes, we have good friends we can call on, but how many times can one beg for help from kind friends at 3 A.M. before she becomes a burden? Will I be able to deal with raising a child with special needs, however the degree of handicap, and giving him/her the quality of life he/she deserves? Will our marriage/sanity withstand the long hard times ahead of us? I sound selfish? Damn right I am and rightly so. There are so many questions to which we are still looking for answers. One thing is clear. If the tests reveal that the baby (or as Dr. House would say, "Call it a fetus. It keeps expectation low.") is with severe genetic defects that will undoubtedly cause it pain, suffering, and the inability to live outside of the womb, I will abort the pregnancy. I read about a woman who decided to keep the baby and deliver it knowing that it would shortly die after birth because of a genetic defect. I can't do that. To extend a life that is not destined to be by shoving feeding and breathing tubes down its fragile body just so the parents can have the opportunity to say goodbye is not MY idea of love. Wil knows exactly what to do if I am still technically "alive" only because there are machines that do the dirty work for me. To be able to let go and spare the suffering to this tiny life I already love so much is the ultimate gesture this mother can do. Everything else beyond this extreme scenario is still a little hazy in the decision department.

Strap Yourselves in and Get Comfy! It's Going to be a Long One!

I didn't update much last week because, well, I'm pretty sure you are well aware of the fact that first trimester doesn't agree with me much. Kind of old to keep repeating it, so I thought I should spare you. Anyway, I'm beginning to feel better and might even have something witty to share. My mom stresses the importance of my keeping my job that only pays in peanuts and fairy dust, because she knows me way better than I know myself. I am forced to suck it up and actually do something if I know I have responsibilities. I feel like such a bum when I'm off work and sleep all day. I mean ALL DAY. As a child, my hobby was to sleep. That was really the reason why I never got in real trouble. I would read then fall asleep. This actually pissed off a lot of my friends in college, because I never quite made it to most of their parties. Anyway, now that I'm growing a human, fighting off whatever infection Wil shared with us, have a legit reason to stay in bed because of my tail bone, and, at times, underemployed, I'm the world's laziest human being. It feels like I've overdosed on Benadryl. Even the dogs don't sleep as much as I do. I still can't walk them, which only adds to my inactivity. I have constant pain when I walk but it can suddenly turn into a sharp jolt that sends me buckling to the floor. I don't even want to think what would happen when they see a fat rabbit (they are huge and everywhere here!) while I'm still attached to the other end of their leashes.

To address Wil's previous post (my husband apparently detests the use of punctuation when he's ill and cranky), it's indeed been a rough couple of weeks in our house. Wil first got a cold about three weeks ago and by last weekend it developed into some kind of wicked respiratory infection. It was one of the weirdest things I'd ever seen. He was slowly getting better towards the end of second week but literally overnight his immune system just ran out of steam. He woke up to blood-shot eyes, streaming snot (too much info?), and a voice that sounds like it was coming from a deep and compact underground tunnel. Together we sat up in bed holding hands. He, with his nostrils "corked" with toilet paper, and I, with a barf bag ready to deploy at a moment's notice. It was quite pathetic but nonetheless endearing. Should have taken a picture that we can laugh about much much later. Now he is finally on the mend, with the help of wide spectrum antibiotics. I'm not feeling like it's Saturday morning after 6 shots too many and I NEED some Hardee's chicken biscuits to stop the room from spinning all the time either. I still want Hardee's chicken biscuits. Oh, do I ever. With grape jelly (thanks, Curty!). But I at least do see a bleak, however present, stream of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Stupid tunnel.

I am a daughter of Thailand, where fresh food and produce are cheap and fabulous. My mother instilled in me a wonderful eating habit and most of it stuck. It was quite a change for both Wil and I when we first got together. I put a piece of fruit in his lunch box and he introduced me to Little Debbie. I had never known anyone who loved junk food more than my Beloved. We compromised and he got to eat his chips as long as he washed it down with some fresh fruits or veggies. Fast forward to the 10th week of pregnancy and I could no longer eat anything that I once had and subsequently lost through vomiting. Good bye to most salad vegetables, Asian pears (my favorite!), oranges, apples, ground beef, anything that smells and looks like real food, etc. All I can eat now are steamed rice, eggs, toast, pizza, ramen noodles, Hot Pockets, cereal, and canned peaches and pineapples. Yes, I said canned. You might hear Wil's sinister laughter in the background and my grandmas' quiet weeping. To make the matter worst, Baumholder "food court" only houses Antony's Pizza, Taco Bell, Burger King, Pop Eye's, and Baskin Robbins. There are a few restaurants in town and Doner Kebab stands. And that is it. So for convenience's sake, Wil has been grabbing Taco Bell for lunch or dinner pretty much every day since he knows that his wife is not going near the stove anytime soon. Even the most prominent junk food junkie is now turning green when he has to go to the food court.

There's something going on with our phone line. Seriously, Kwan, we didn't forget your birthday. We just can't call out. We found that out when we tried to call and wish you a happy birthday. Wil has to find time to go back to see the Telekom people today and find out why both our phone and internet are not working. Yes, we're still stealing bandwidth from the neighbors. Sorry. And yes, we paid the bills. In the sickness-induced haze, we slept through the due date but quickly took care of it as soon as the place was opened on Monday. Maybe this is the German way of teaching valuable lesson to customers. Pay your bill a day late and no phone for you again, possibly ever. Pass me those empty cans and some strings, would you?

*Update: I have jinxed myself by saying that I was feeling better. Spoke. Too. Soon. Never will I mentioned that again, at least until the spawn is out and a few months old. Now where is my barf bag?