If you squint, stand on one leg, tilt your head to the left and cover one eye, you can clearly see I'M PREGNANT!!!

So, I am just over 3 months preggo, and it is more obvious to me that a piece of spinach stuck in someone’s front teeth as they are talking to me. I keep finding myself frustrated, yet relieved when people can’t tell that I’m pregnant. I can look down at my once completely flat tummy, and see this bump that has never been there before and wonder, “How on earth can you not tell?!” Here are some examples to back up my frustration and sometimes relief.

While at the mall last week, I sashayed into a cute little junior’s boutique and scanned the goods. I found several cute capris and a couple of semi-long shorts. I walked into a dressing room and feeling like one of those cutesy pregnant women you see walking down the street, I pulled the shorts up, and then… it hit me. My body is busy preparing for this baby, and the skimpy blue jean shorts that have always been my go-to item for summer fashion were no longer on my list of summer favs. I couldn’t even get the dang zipper up, much less button them. So what do I do? I’m determined…

I goand find the next size up like any rational 27 year old pregnant woman shopping in a junior’s boutique would do. I get them in the dressing room, and faced pretty much the same problem only this time- I got them zipped, but buttoning them was sure to suffocate my unhatched chicken. I’m a stickler for putting clothes back where I found them, but this day, I left everything laying in the dressing room, off the hangers, and just walked out. I was kind of frazzled, but not even close to complaining. I adore my little peach, and am happy to provide some cushion for him or her. I ended up coming home with 4 maternity shirts that actually look like regular shirts, but are super comfy stretch cotton-like material.

Something else that peaks my interest is this: Will I still be getting hit on when I’ve got a basketball under my shirt? Sometimes I think that some men see my wedding ring and think that it came from a cracker jack box and I’m just pretending to be married. Seriously. It’s like my ring is actually a sign that says, “I’m not really married. I’m just wearing this to make you think I’m unavailable, so please, proceed with the lame pick-up lines, and make yourself look like an idiot by trying to get me to think you’re a stud”. While at the horseraces Sunday, a gentleman was lingering beside me while I was dipping my strawberries in the chocolate fondue. (Yes, the strawberries were amazing. Be jealous.) I had chosen to wear very baggy khaki colored linen pants, and a strapless pink flowy cotton shirt. The necklace I chose to wear always is multi colored and has a huge cross as the centerpiece. It almost always gets compliments, but this guy was a little over the top on complimenting my attire. (And yes, he was straight). First he mentioned something about me getting chocolate on my pants, and how it would be hard to get that stain out. Then he went on to say that he thought my pants would be airy and cool, even though it was really hot outside. I agreed that they were. Then, he went for the necklace.

I won’t lie. I had some cleavage showing, but not much. My shirt wasn’t tight, and I didn’t look like a skank or anything. As he stared at my necklace (which I’m pretty sure was a lame excuse for him to be a creeper), he asked me where I got it because it was beautiful. I told him Sam Moon, and I tried not to be rude as I was focusing on dipping my 5 strawberries into the chocolate, and this guy didn’t slow down. He asked if I was there with anyone and I quickly said, “Yes. My husband surprised me with these tickets.” I guess after my confirmation of being married, he threw in the towel. He told us to have fun and then went on about his business. I chuckled and wondered if this was the last time I would have this issue. I suppose in my mind, I assume I will transform into the hideous Fiona or Shrek look alike in the coming months. We shall see.

I’m not sure if the previos story was an example of frustration or relief, but this next one is relief. This weekend, Jim and I decided to go for a swim, and I have yet to buy a new swimsuit. (It didn’t even cross my mind while at the mall last week.) So I squeezed my top half into a bikini, and went to the pool. While we were swimming, he complimented my body and said that if he didn’t know me, there was no way he could tell I was pregnant. Now, if that isn’t a compliment , then I don’t know what is. I was impressed with his words, and filed them in his “Things to think of when Jim makes me mad” file for use on a later date. Although there are times when I want to look pregnant because I think it will make me have more of a bond with Baby M, I am glad that when in a string bikini, I don’t look 3 months pregnant. Thank you God for timing Baby M when you did. Maybe I can get through this bikini season without feeling like a beached whale!!!

So yesterday, I had to go to Denton for a few school related things, and return a book to TWU before 6:00pm. (For those of you who have been out of school for a while, there is this new program called Rent-a-Text. You pay half price, and turn the book in at the end of the semester. Pretty cool, right?) Anyway, since I was going to Denton, I asked my mom and Grandma to join me for a day of fun after I was finished at the school. They agreed, and after my business was taken care of, we went and had lunch, and headed to the mall. I was really wishing that we knew if Baby M was a boy or a girl, because for the first time, I let myself wander through the baby departments at the department stores. Seriously. If I wasn’t already pregnant, walking though those sections would make me want a baby ASAP. I decided on my nursery colors for sure after looking at all the clothing. Although it’s only been a couple of months since I found out I was pregnant, I haven’t let myself think of anything to permanent just in case God decided that He needed Baby M more than I did. After hearing my Dr. say it’s okay to start buying stuff, I can’t wait until August 1, 2011!!!

I got I text from Jim that said, "Don't ask questions. What size swimsuit do you wear. Top and bottom" I wanted to ask what int he world he wanted to know that for, but I followed directions, and told him. When I got home, I had forgotten about his inquiry, and here's what I found.

Brownie points!!!

I will leave you with these thoughts that I’ve been having about nesting. How do you know when it’s nesting? Is that something that happened throughout the pregnancy, or just toward the end? I’ve been cleaning my house and several people have commented that I’m “nesting”. Just curious. Maybe Jim is nesting too. He is building a shop with a big carport so that we can have storage space for our office/storage/spare bedroom when we start on the nursery. (oh em gee. There is going to be a nursery in my house!) He is too cute. He really has been helping out a lot around the house. Bless his heart-I haven’t cooked a meal in over a month now. He has been living off of sandwiches and cereal, and whatever KK has to serve a lunch. Hahaha! I’m not kidding.

Baby M is the size of a peach this week. I love it. My little peach-just keep on growing…

My Little Peach!!!

Keep praying- it’s working.

How can music with no instruments sound so sweet?

Monday, June 27 was the date of my last blog. That means that it has been 10 days since I wrote down my thoughts. I have seen numerous clients, led a couple of anger management groups, taken a couple of exams, written a few papers, read a ton of chapters, (well supposed to have read a ton of chapters…) and taken TONS of notes.

I guess I will begin with Friday since that is what trauma sticks out in my mind. I had 2 clients back to back at the clinic where I am doing my internship. About 10 minutes before my first client, it occurs to me that I have a huge assignment due in my Saturday class, and I had barely even started. Originally, I had planned on being an overachiever, and I started the assignment over a week prior, but somehow, I thought I still had a week left to complete it. After frantically texting numerous people in the C&D program during my meltdown, my client walked in. Drop every problem that I have going on, and focus on the client. After all, I am a professional, right? (Pshhhhh!!!) So in the room I go. I hit record on my video camera, and the session begins. 15 minutes in, I hear various beeps, and realize that my camera battery is puttering out on me. Seriously? I was so frustrated! It is what it is, I thought, and went on about my business. My next session came and went, and when I got home, I finished my assignment in lightning speed mode.

My original plan for the past several weeks was to celebrate my friend Steph’s birthday at a Mexican food restaurant she had chosen. Epic fail. Earlier that day, I had tested the waters of the Mexican food aromas. I felt terrible, but there was absolutely no way that I would be able to sit through a dinner with a few friends and enjoy myself when I was fighting back vomit tickling the back of my throat. I didn’t go, and felt like I was a horrible horrible friend. Although I do not wish for any of my friends to ever experience what I have with smells and meats, I hope that one day they might understand just why I was unable to make it to this celebration.

The next morning, I drove my assignment to Denton, and as luck would have it, when I got there, the building was locked. I tried 3 doors before I found the secret passage to turning in my assignment. Now, that I was in the building, I had to get my assignment to the right place. Easier said than done. If I was a good student, I would have turned in my assignment in class like everyone else, but noOoOoOoOo… I was skipping class on the July 4^th weekend, and going to the lake. Serves me right I suppose that I ended up sliding my assignment under the door of my professors office in hopes that she would find it. (Maybe I should have followed up on that now that I think of it… )

I get back to my house, and James has the truck loaded down. In the bed of the pickup sat 900.00 worth of firecrackers, I mean fireworks. (I was corrected by James when I called them firecrackers. He said that no body calls them that anymore. ) We were only staying at the lake Saturday night and Sunday night, but when you’re pregnant, you truly pack for any occasion. I had waited until the last minute to pack for this trip, and wouldn’t you know it, when I got home, he was rearing to go!

I grabbed a huge suitcase, and began throwing random outfits in it. You never know what situation you might encounter on a weekend lake trip. There was one minor problem that quickly came to my attention. My swimsuit tops no longer fit properly, and I didn’t have time to go buy any larger sizes. Well crap. Here I am stuck looking like a pregnant porn star because I don’t dare ask James if we can stop by Wal-Mart to get me a swimsuit. I grabbed at least 8 of my swimsuits, and other random things, threw them my ginormous suitcase, and out the door we went. James had a change of heart on the way to the lake, and decided to stop at a Wal-Mart to let me upgrade my weekend wardrobe.

There was one minor/major problem. This Wal-Mart was in Bowie, Texas. Now I don’t know if any of you have ever tried to shop in this particular store, but let the record show, they had nothing-NOTHING in my size. Oh, and their swimsuit section consisted of 20 swimsuits on a rack. Maybe it’s the end of swimsuit season in Bowie, Texas, but I’m pretty sure summer just began about 3 weeks ago.

We finally get to the lake, (with no new swimsuit mind you), and it was time for relaxation to begin!

We got a bunch of R&R on Saturday, but then… Sunday came. We rode jet ski’s, everyone (except me) went tubing and skiing, and we all got way too much sun. For the first time since I was of drinking age, I was on the lake for hours upon hours, and didn’t have one single alcoholic beverage. Now I know you’re thinking that I’m a horrible mom already for even being the least bit jealous of this time when everyone was drinking, but seriously--- when you start having dreams about an ice cold Coors Light, you know you’re having a craving. Terrible, right? I felt like a kid waiting in line for the ice cream man, only to find out that when it was her turn, the ice cream man was out of ice cream. It was difficult to be around all of my friends while they were wading in the water and enjoying their beverages, but each time I thought about how good an ice cold beer would taste on this day of 105 degree heat, the thoughts of my healthy, happy, miracle flooded my mind. I suppose it’s a fine line between being pregnant and wanting a beer so badly that your mouth waters, and being pregnant and consuming beer after beer and quenching your thirst while disfiguring your baby’s body and mind. I chose not to drink, and somehow, I survived, and had a fun filled weekend. (Let the record show that flip cup is not near as fun if you play with lemonade…)

Fast forward to Monday July 4. We are at the Starnes family fireworks stand, and Shane has concocted what he calls a “Sparkler Bomb”. Is it exactly what it says. It is big, loud, and you can feel the boom in your chest when it explodes. Aside from enjoying the fireworks beside my hubby and Daddy-to-be, one thing he said keeps replaying how good of a Daddy he is going to be in my mind. When the sparkler bomb was about to be lit, my baby daddy shows this look of concern on his face, and turns to me and says, “Do you think that you should like, turn and face the other direction or something? Maybe you should just stand behind me.” I know this is something that no one would probably think twice about, but in my mind, it was as good as him saying, “I love you and this baby more than anything, and I don’t want anything to hurt either one of you. I would rather something happen to me before anything happens to you two.” Now granted, I am pretty over analytical. I own that, but can’t you see a sliver of a protective Daddy bear in there? I love it.

Can you tell yet? 12 weeks

Now for the good part of this blog. Yet another moment to add to my movie trailer of my little miracle. Tuesday morning, me and Jim get up and drive to Fort Worth to meet with Dr. Robbins. I just love her! We get into the exam room, and the PA wheels in her little ultrasound cart. I had prepped Jim to record Baby M’s heartbeat with my phone (yet another time when my iPhone came in handy), and so when the nurse put the wand on my tummy, he hit record. The most beautiful sound I think I have ever heard was filling the room. In that moment, the consistent whirrs in the air brought tears to my eyes. It felt like it was just me and James in the room. No nurse, no machine, just us and our baby. It was the first time that I felt like we had our own family. Time was frozen, and the look on this proud Papa’s face is forever etched into my mind. I can’t quite pinpoint an emotion to attach with it. Happy, proud, joyful, love, excitement, fear, anxiety… It was amazing. To know that the love between me and the man that God created for me was brought together and life was breathed into my body because of it just resonated with me. The look of many emotions reflected from James’ face to my own, and I was glued onto him. In a matter of seconds, a dream became a reality. Baby M was real. Our fears of miscarriage were further from our mind, and the comfort of hearing Baby M’s heartbeat was better than any gift I’ve ever been given. If I could bottle up that emotion and sell it, this world would be a much happier place.

Growing like a weed!

The nurse showed herself out and let us know that Dr. Robbins would be in soon. Still in a daze from the growing miracle inside of me, I was startled when Dr. Robbins came in the room. Her first words were, “Let me be the first to congratulate you two!” I was thinking, “What in the world is she talking about? Oh my gosh- are there two in there?!?!” My racing thoughts were abruptly ceased when she said, “Welcome to your second trimester! You can quit worrying as much now, because the developmental period is just about complete, and now your baby is just going to grow grow grow!” It felt amazing to hear her say that. This entire time, I have been faced with friends and family who mean well, but try to err on the side of caution and not let their excitement show because, “Heather might miscarry.” After hearing my doctor assure me that everything is a-ok, I am ready to start shopping! She told me my protein was okay, my sugar levels were okay, I’m not anywhere near even being borderline anaemic, I’m immune to German Measles, and oh, one last thing… “I have a secret if you wanna know."

Any time your doctor says they have a secret, of course you want to know! She went on to say, "We have a specialist who comes in on Monday’s and Thursdays. He can tell as early as 14 weeks if you are pregnant with a boy or a girl. Would you and James be interested in finding out the sex of your baby?” For a moment, I swear I had an out of body experience. It was like a scene out of Ghost. I could have sworn that I floated up out of my body, danced a little jig and did a few cartwheels, and then returned to my body. Without even thinking, I sounded like I had just stepped out of the movie, Clueless. “OH MY GOSH! SERIOUSLY?!” was my response. She said that we could just come back in 4 weeks and merge my 4 month check-up with my sonogram appointment, so that my friends is what we did! August 1 is a day that will forever be engraved in my mind. The funny thing about finding out Baby M is a boy or a girl is this: Shopping is now a necessity. This not only applies to me, but to my family and friends as well. If we know to buy little boy items or little girls items, it will be much easier to impulse buy!

I can’t wait.

Life is great, and I’ve never been happier. Marriage is good. Family is good. Friends are good. Grad school is… well, it is what it is…

Keep praying! (I’m pretty sure it’s working!!!)