Week 12

First, let me say thank you, my dear Internet friends, for inquiring about my well-being the past few weeks. I'm happy to report that I'm finally feeling better -- almost completely better, in fact.

I'm 12 weeks into the pregnancy now, and at my doctor's appointment last week, we saw the baby's profile and heard the wonderful heartbeat.
Can you believe this was the nubbin only one month prior to the previous picture? Just a peanut with a heartbeat. God is amazing.
Because I know you all have inquiring minds, here's a quick snapshot of me right now. (And thankfully, I don't mean that literally. Because I don't think you're prepared for that.)

1. Whenever I'm pregnant, I get extra weepy, and this pregnancy is no exception. I cry at insurance commercials (anyone seen that one from All State where 6,000 teenagers go out for a drive each year and never come back?!?), McDonald's print ads and my children's daily gifts of rocks and drawings.

I also practically bawl as soon as I hear the opening strains of a Chris Tomlin song. For my mind to even reach toward the concept of God's goodness right now causes my throat to constrict so tight, I can't talk for five minutes. As you might imagine, there's been very little singing in church for me lately. Mostly, I just stand there with tears streaming down my cheeks.

And hopefully, my children's Sunday school teachers are doing a good job, because if my daughter dares to ask me a question like, "Mommy, why does God love me?" I can only cry in response. Seriously. It's that bad.

(Side note here, but when have I ever stayed on topic? It's the reason I love parentheses. When I was pregnant with my daughter, and I was still unaware that the pregnancy hormones directly affect my tear ducts, I had my most infamous oh-my-word-I-can't-control-the-tears moment. It happened when my husband I and drove through a Bay Area intersection where my father, a pastor and a man of great respect, was holding a sign up supporting George W. Bush during the presidential vote recount of 2000. We honked for him and his crowd -- which was faced off with a much larger and more vocal pro-Gore crowd -- he waved, and I started bawling like a baby cow. "I'm just so proud of our country," I sobbed to my Vulcan husband. Who stared at me like I was losing my mind before laughing so hard he almost had to pull over. It was quite a moment.)

2. I probably shouldn't admit this on a public forum, but my favorite pregnancy book of all time is "The Girlfriends' Guide to Pregnancy." I read it before I even had a desire to have children, and I laughed quite a few brain cells right out of my head. (Pregnancy also steals my ability to make sense. Sorry.)

I'll never forget when I read this in the chapter entitled, "Looking the Best You Can - The First Three Months."

First of all, if this is not your first baby, skip this segment and move right into the discussion of the second trimester. Generally, the stomach of a woman who has had a baby before will pooch out about five minutes after conception, and she will look obviously pregnant in the first three months. Most of us pregnant with our second or subsequent children have never failed to comment on how big we got immediately. It must have something to do with the stomach muscles not ever being as taut again after the first pregnancy has yanked them apart.

Can I get an AMEN?!? Because holy cow. When I get up in the morning, I look like a woman who might need to work a little harder on her abdominal crunches. By night, I look like a woman who should be practicing her breathing because that baby could be coming at any time.

OK. Maybe it's not quite that bad. But I do look four to five months pregnant by dinner. And with both of my previous pregnancies, I didn't start to wear maternity clothes until I was about 18 or even 20 weeks. What's up with that?!?

3. When I need to eat, I need to eat right now. Immediately. Don't get in my way or try to be cute. It could be fatal, and as we all know, hungry pregnant women are not held responsible for their actions.

Also, don't give me a salad or a roasted chicken breast with a baked sweet potato. It's true I would have loved those thing three months ago. But right now, I need fat. Like a McChicken with mayo. Or a big piece of Il Primo pizza from Green Mill. Or possibly a brat with extra spicy mustard. Or cheese. Lots of cheese. With guacamole and chips on the side.

Oy. My poor, healthy eating husband. He's anxiously awaiting the Junk Food phase to come to an end. Pray for him.

Otherwise, I'm generally back to my normal self. We told our kids about the baby after last week's doctor's appointment, and they are both thrilled. Our five- (soon to be six) year-old daughter is especially ecstatic, and she's already practicing carrying a baby around all day. A good friend of mine, who also has a girl for her oldest child, told me I might need to fight my daughter for rights to see the child once the baby is born. And I suspect that will be the truth.

So stay tuned. This story is far from over. (And aren't you excited?) More to come.