Nice Guys Finish First

I remember being a stupid teenager and thinking that I didn't like guys who were "too nice."  And now that I'm married with a bambino on the way, I'm like, what does "too nice" even mean?  I wish I could go back and inform my stupid teenage self that if I were ever planning on getting pregnant in the future, a "nice guy" is precisely the kind of husband you need.

Seriously.  I would NOT want to have to rely on a dude bro right now.  I'm dead serious.  I am so grateful for my nice guy.

When I say my husband is a nice guy, what I mean is that he's caring, kind and nurturing.  He always asks how I'm feeling, he always asks if I need anything or if there's anything he can do, he often talks to the baby, saying how much he loves him/her and how he can't wait to meet him/her,  he's educating himself on how my body is changing and how the baby is growing.  He's all in.

The latest thing he did was investigate a body pillow for me.  We were visiting with a friend and she suggested getting one as soon as possible because we didn't want to wait until I actually needed it to think about it.  It was a good idea, but I sort of forgot about it.  My husband didn't.  He started looking for the best brands and later told me that he even messaged my friend to ask about the kind she used and ordered one for me.  It was just sweet.  It's a relief to know I have a partner who cares about my comfort even more than I do.

Hi, my name is Baby.

Mommy and Daddy went to the doctor today and saw me for the first time.  There I was, up on the screen.  Well, at this point, I look kind of like a bean-shaped blob and less like a human, but Mommy and Daddy could hear my heart beat.  It was so loud and fast!  Mommy started crying.  The lady took pictures of me and told Mommy and Daddy my birthday.  January 27.

I'm about a week younger than Mommy thought I was when she first went to the doctor, so today, I'm 7 weeks and 2 days old, still the size of a blueberry.  Daddy talks to me a lot.  He says, "I love you, Baby, and I want to keep you safe and warm."  Mommy feeds me.  Sometimes she gives me healthy food like avocados and bananas and blueberries and yogurt and spinach and tomatoes and salmon and eggs and red peppers.  But sometimes she gives me junk food like Tostitos and cheese dip, orange creamsicle ice cream and brownies.  Hee, hee.  Mommy can be naughty sometimes.

I can't wait to meet Mommy and Daddy.  They seem nice.  They said they were going to teach me Spanish and Daddy said he was going to teach me how to play the guitar.  Mommy already has books that she wants to read to me.  She has a whole book of Curious George stories for me and even a Curious George doll.

Mommy says she's really glad I haven't been making her sick.  I have been making her tired though.  And hungry at weird times.  And sometimes I keep her up at night.  Sorry, Mommy.  The next time Mommy and Daddy see me will be in 4 weeks.  Meanwhile, I'll keep eating and growing and becoming a strong, healthy baby!

It's 4:00 a.m., I'm Up and I'm Hungry

So, here I am, simultaneously blogging and making a grilled cheese sandwich.

Apparently, first-trimester insomnia is a thing.

I'm just tired all the time and it's really tempting to nap during the day, and I think that's part of what's messing my sleep cycle up.  That, and always having to get up to tinkle.

Still no major symptoms, but there are a few little oddities: I have a stuffy/runny nose which I noticed right before I found out I was pregnant and still hasn't gone away.  I'm always sneezing and blowing my nose like I have allergies. I've since learned that that's known as pregnancy rhinitis.  Great.  I also get itchy from time to time.  Supposedly that's a thing because of "increased blood supply to the skin."  Also great.  One other thing, I used to inadvertently skip meals if I got distracted by work or whatever, like, I'd get hungry, but never like, I-need-food-this-instant kind of hungry.  But now, my stomach literally hurts if I don't eat.  I'm totally like, "Get in my belly!" I have to admit, though, I'm very thankful I haven't had to deal with nausea or morning sickness.

Let's see if I can get at least a few winks before the sun comes up.

Unreal

Today my baby is the size of a blueberry.

It still doesn't feel real.  Like, I don't feel like I'm pregnant (whatever that's supposed to feel like because I've never been pregnant before) and I don't feel like in a few months an entire human being is going to come out of me.  I just can't fathom it.  I even took another pregnancy test a few days ago just to make sure I was still pregnant.

When we first found out, we were really excited.  We called our friends and family and received lots of well-wishes, and it was our anniversary and everything. A perfect day to find out.  It felt really special and new and exciting.  But since then, it's like, life goes on.  I mean, I have my little apps and we checked out a few pregnancy books from the library that we leaf through every now and then, but I haven't really felt excited about it since the day we initially found out.  

I suppose I should be thankful that I haven't experienced any morning sickness or any major discomfort yet.  But my lack of symptoms is a part of what is making me feel like it's not real.

Maybe I'll feel differently about it when we go back to the doctor in a little over a week from now and actually get to see the baby.

Even though the whole concept of having a baby feels extremely abstract and theoretical right now, I will admit to being a little preoccupied with what the child will look like.  I had a dream that I had a son and he looked exactly like my husband. Very white, with freckles and hazel eyes.  I remember feeling sad that the baby didn't look like me at all and thought that people wouldn't believe that he was my son.  It's one of my fears, I guess.  I want our child to be connected to his or her African-American heritage, and I fear that the less they look like me, the less their African-Americanness will have anything to do with how they are perceived and ultimately how they perceive themselves. 

I dread the day a stranger approaches me and asks, "Is s/he yours?" Ugh.  I'm already trying to think of witty rejoinders to make people think twice about making certain assumptions.