Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Baby's Room!





When you're pregnant and it's the weekend, there's only so much one can do. In the beginning, before you start assuming the shape of Humpty Dumpty, you can still carry on like normal--go on hikes, runs, bike rides, and even put on a bathing suit and lay out if it's the right time of year. Most of those activities start becoming a little too difficult--and in some pregnancies dangerous, and you're left with two options--go for another walk, or open those Cheetos you've been eyeing and watch another episode of Real Housewives.

Or you could be like me, and start pinning, Etsy-ing, Ebaying, and Googling everything in sight for the baby's room as soon as you're in your second trimester. Sure, it was a little early to start in on the planning, but man am I glad I didn't wait til the last minute! My husband and I knew we wanted to have a theme for McBaby's room, but didn't want to go super babyish with it. We decided that since he's going to be a Manhattan Beach baby, why not go with a surf/beach-inspired theme?!

For the paint, we decided on Sandbar by Sherwin-Williams-the perfect color. Unfortunately, the first color we picked ended up being a horrible puke buttercream shade, and my dutiful hubs had to redo the whole thing. But seriously, if you saw this color....it was like the shade of a 1970s doctor's office.

The artwork was also a big thing for us--we wanted everything to be cute, but not too babyish, which is why we ordered that cute ABC print from Etsy, along with the boyish nursery rhyme for above his bead. His awesome Aunt Gillian got him a surfboard height chart and Manhattan Beach print so he always knows his roots, and we also ordered the surfboard shelf and silhouette of our chihuahua Shirley--they're gonna be BFs for sure.

The chair is from our amazing aunt and uncle, who--BTW--also got us a Pottery Barn chair for our wedding! They literally have given us the nicest pieces of furni in our house! Also from PBK are the Kendall crib and dresser. I snagged that fab shag rug off of Gilt (still paid way too much for it), but made up for it with that Ikea bookshelf. The tinier "sling" shelf is from Amazon. And finally, the bike decal! I surprised my hubs with this little accent, and we thought it was the perfect little boyish addition. One last thing we're waiting on is the Moroccan "pouf" ottoman. I got mine off eBay for about a fourth of the price Serena and Lily was selling theirs for. And that's pretty much McBaby's room!

We're so happy with how it came out--it's super cozy, chill, and boyish without being too babyish. Now we just need the baby boy! I have to admit, I have been spending an awful lot of time in there just hanging out and daydreaming about what it's going to be like. Can't wait to spend all day/night in that awesome chair!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Labor Dreams!


Yahooo! Week 30 is here, which means if my little man is right on time, I've got 10 weeks left! I have this really weird feeling he's coming a little early though, but since this is my first pregnancy, I literally have nothing to base that assumption on. Yet again, I'm flabbergasted by how in-tune my body and subconscious mind are with my pregnancy progression--I hadn't thought much about the actual logistics of labor (besides the obvious), until I woke up in a cold sweat the other night as a result of my first....dun dun dun...labor dream.


Naturally, it was anything but normal--I already have an extremely ridiculous imagination in my dreams, and I'm one of those weirdos who actually remembers almost all of them. The dream was that I gave birth inside a grocery store. Pretty sick right? Thankfully though, I have no recollection of the butcher shop or seafood section being a part of the scenery, but I was pretty out in the open with other shoppers just going about their business. One of the strangest parts was that I couldn't feel anything--it was like I was subconsciously hoping everything with my epidural goes as planned with the real thing.


But nonetheless, sick things were happening! At one point, the nurse told me to push, which I did, and then she apparently handed my spleen over to my husband. Even in this bizarre dream state I knew that didn't seem right, but she assured me it was fine, and just needed to "roll it up so it wouldn't dry out." At another point in the dream I was informed that they were "ready to cut into my abdominal wall," prompting me to scream, "OMG am I having a C-section?!" They told me no, so fingers crossed that's foreshadowing (not the abdominal cutting part of course)!


This has been my one and only labor dream thus far. Most of my baby-related slumbers have been equally as weird though, like when my baby transformed into a dog right before my eyes. Or when the doctors handed my newborn over to me, it was actually a teeny tiny fawn that looked an awful lot like Bambi. Adorable, but no thanks.


In these last few weeks of pregnancy, I anticipate more labor dreams to infiltrate my sleeps. I can only hope that my constant urge to pee during the night will interrupt any nightmare situations I might conjure up subconsciously.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Wine Daydreamin'


Take a good look at that picture--especially if you're a good friend of mine, because that's what I expect to see in my hospital room as my first post-partum dinner. I'm not sure if it's normal to daydream quite this much about the things pregnant women have to give up, but I apparently talk about it enough to prompt my co-worker to say, "Bridge, you should write a blog post about it!" So here we are...

Almost every pregnant woman I talk to about the no-booze policy lies through her teeth and says "I really didn't mind it." Maybe it's because no one wants to look like a lushy wino, but I clearly have no shame, so I'll tell the truth. It sucks. The worst are weddings, parties, or other settings where everyone around you is letting loose, and you're the dork in the corner drinking another seltzer. But most of the time, I just miss the old days of having a glass of wine after work at the end of the day to unwind. Even though Arnold Palmers have become my new jam, they don't really cut it as a relaxant.

Another no-no that's really weighing on my last nerve is the no sushi situation. I'm a huge fish lover and eat it at least a couple times a week, and I seriously dream about a singular bite of the best rare ahi tuna dipped in soy sauce. Ironically, the last time I had sushi was the night of conception! Good planning huh?

Besides the obvious--wine, sushi, soft cheeses--there are a ton of beauty products/procedures I've had to give up too. And man, you can tell. I looked at my face this morning as I was brushing my teeth and said out loud, "You need a tune-up." First off, my eyelashes have returned to their original stump length since having to go off Latisse. Without my monthly chemical peels, my complexion has reverted back to a grayish- mother of pearl color. Which matches my new teeth color without the twice weekly Crest White Strips sessions. And finally, the deep ravines on my forehead are slowly returning as a result of my Botox wearing off. Wah to the max on that one.

What have a learned from this lesson in sacrifice? Well, A. I can do it, so that's a plus. But B. I have no intention of this becoming my new way of life. I fully intend on getting right back to all those poisons as soon as this baby comes out. And if you thought I was kidding about that sushi and wine spread, think again...

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Knocked-Up Hypochondriac


I should have listened to my best friend when she said to burn the What To Expect When You're Expecting-type books. She has after all popped out four children in under 6 years, so she knows a thing or two about pregnancy. But after months of ignoring them on my bookshelf, they've been dusted off and are literally scaring me to death. You see, it all started the other day when I felt a new "pain" I hadn't experienced, and figured referencing one of my books was better than calling my doctor again--who, by the way--already thinks I'm a little nuts.

But the problem with those books is it always makes you think you're actually in labor, or that something is seriously wrong. I still haven't been able to figure out if the knifing pain in my nether regions really is these "Braxton Hicks" contractions, or if there's just a huge fart lodged in there wanting to come out. And I was pretty positive I had eclampsia one day after experiencing the world's worst heartburn ever, just to have my husband force two Tums down my throat....which worked wonders.

The third trimester serves up all kinds of fun little treats for the human body. In addition to gaining even more weight, it basically turns its back on you in this time of need, manifested by indigestion, farting, cramping, backaches, acne and the return of nausea. I thought heartburn was supposed to be brought on my acidic or spicy meals--wrong. Something as bland as toast causes me to now "throw-up burp," and most foods are making me downright sick to my stomach again. Note to self to ask for more Zofran.

The other main issue is the incessant back pain. Thankfully, I've been able to get pre-natal massages every other week under my insurance, but I honestly don't even know if it's working. It's like because I'm pregnant, I'm this delicate flower that the therapists don't want to touch. I literally beg them to push harder on my poor back, but they refuse in fear they'll hit one of those alleged pressure points that could send me into premature labor. So as a result, every night I bathe myself in Icy Hot as my poor husband tries to shield his nose hairs from being singed by the potent spearmint permeating the entire room.

Maybe it's my own fault for continuing a pretty hardcore exercise routine for a 7-months pregnant lady. But I just can't stop. I've been given no indication by my doctors to slow down or take it easy, and working out is literally the only outlet I have for stress-relief--that, and decorating the baby's room, a project in which I have much pride. (Pics to come soon!)

But despite each day becoming just a little more difficult than the last, I must take the time to show gratitude for having such a healthy pregnancy. I never knew how many problems could arise, and that I'd know so many women with them. I need to thank my lucky stars I don't have gestational diabetes, or haven't been sent to bedrest, or even worse, gone into premature labor. So even though I wish the remaining weeks of my pregnancy were over, I'm reminding myself that it's a small price to pay for the healthy baby I'll be delivering before I know it.

Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."


Thursday, January 19, 2012

Is the US a 3rd World Country?

Everywhere you look there are pregnant women. On my flight the other day there were three of us knocked-up-Nellies; in my workout classes I'm not even the solo pregger. We're literally everywhere, yet I still feel the need to explain my current state in the work place.

Here I am, a 31-year-old woman living in Los Angeles, one of the most progressive cities in the U.S., and my pregnancy still has to be "explained" almost on a daily basis. I'd understand if I was 16 and knocked up by my boyfriend of the month with no after-school job, but I'm a married woman of completely acceptable age to have children. So why is it such a huge issue?!

For example, I'm a host of a show that airs online that covers Top 40 music news. This entire time, I've been hiding my pregnancy, which I think is downright backwards. If major news networks like Fox and ABC are cool with allowing their female anchors' baby bumps to show, then why wouldn't an internet company?! It's like censoring the most natural part of being a female--being able to procreate. Relatability to on-air personalities is one of the reasons viewers come back to certain channels, so in my eyes the more honest you are, the more people like you.

Another interesting little tidbit is maternity leave. Thankfully I live in California, which has pretty amazing laws in place for pregnant women compared to other states. But still, should I really be thanking my lucky stars for my 12 weeks unpaid leave when there are countries like Norway that require both the mother and father take an 86% paid-for leave (mother=56 weeks, father=12 weeks)???

Or take Slovenia, Denmark, Bulgaria and Lithuania, countries who all cover women's pay 100% for an entire year with job protection. Freaking Afghanistan gives new moms 90 days 100% paid leave for God's sake!

My good friend Joslyn forwarded me this picture today of an Italian woman named Licia Ronzulli, who was photographed at European Parliament with her seven-week old daughter swaddled close to her as she conducted business as usual, voting on proposals to improve women's employment, ironically.

It's such an empowering photo to look at as a pregnant woman, or any woman for that matter. Pregnancy should never have to be a secret when you're a responsible, age-appropriate, hardworking woman--anywhere in the world. So props to Licia for showing how it can be done.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

What's In A Name?


I'm really happy with the fact that my husband and I decided not to share our baby name with anyone prior to his birth. A few close family members know at this point, but beyond the inner circle, no one has any clue what McBaby's name is, and it's pretty cool. Our decision was based not only on the obvious--avoiding people's stupid reactions to the fact that we weren't going with Jack, Noah or Aiden like everyone else in America right now--but also because picking this name literally took 2 years to do.

Yes, your math is correct--I've been looking at baby name books since before I was pregnant. It happened right when we returned from our honeymoon and I realized I suddenly had a ton of free time (ton=the 20 minutes prior to bedtime which was previously spent contacting wedding vendors, writing vows, creating seating assignments) to dedicate to a new hobby. So I purchased "100,000 Baby Names" from Barnes & Noble, and began highlighting.

This was basically a solo project until this past November, as my husband pretty much flat out refused to play the name game with me until we found out the sex. So yes, even when I was clearly pregnant and just didn't know the sex, he still wouldn't humor me. One time I forced him to tell me one name he liked, and he said "Mike." Mike the Baby. Rude. But I didn't really mind, since I wasn't even ready to commit to anything quite yet.

Once we finally found out we were having a baby boy, it became Game. On. My highlights were categorized by different colors which indicated the heirarchy of names on that given week. Slowly but surely 10 names were whittled down to 6, then to 3, and ultimately, THE name was chosen. I was the one who'd found it (obvi), and when I first presented it like I had so many other rejected monikers, my husband laughed at me. Usually when this happened, I shrugged and moved on. But something told me to be persistent with this one. So then I told him to really think about it, and try saying it out loud randomly throughout his day. And the next time I brought it up, he said he really actually liked it, and it was pretty "badass."

Besides two other names of the 80 I'd likely suggested, this was the only name he'd agreed to liking. Now, I know a lot of women who just name their babies whatever the hell they want because they're the ones acting as the human incubator for 9 months, so their husband's opinion doesn't really mean shit. But it was really important for me that my husband and I jointly pick a name. Obviously I'm pretty emo when it comes to the subject matter, and I just think a name is such an important part of a person's identity. We all take such pride in our names, and it's one of the most personal traits about a human being--which is why it's so ironic that you get your name from someone else. That's why I feel so strongly about this subject.

I cannot for the life of me understand why people name their kids trendy names. Unless it's a family name that you've always known you've wanted to pass along, it seems rude to me. For example, I've always loved the name Gavin--but would I name my child that knowing that it's the 37th most popular baby name in U.S. right now? NO!

Frankly, I could care less if people hate the name I've giving to my first child. The fact of the matter is, it took years to decide on, hours of conversation, listing of pros and cons, weighing against alternate names, and we feel like it's just the coolest, most bad-ass, precious, unique, classy, and perfect name for our little guy. Can't wait for the world to meet him.


Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Third Tri Baby!


It's offish! I'm finally in my third trimester! Let the emotional eating and unexplained crying begin! From what I hear, this last little wedge of the pie is the most interesting of the bunch. Although, seriously I'd like to see anything come close to competing with my first trimester. Nevertheless, it seems my body received the memo that I had entered into the final round right on time.

I dusted off those baby books I hadn't laid eyes on in weeks, only to read about such joys as leg cramps, swollen feet, frequent urination, and yep, the return of exhaustion. Not to mention the fact that your baby is basically doubling in size on a weekly basis at this point.

So to kickstart the Third-Tri celebration, I went to my doctor for my glucose exam, which tests for gestational diabetes. Why they wait til the very end to determine this is beyond me. They make you drink this foul orange cocktail that tastes like flat Orange Crush mixed with 5 extra Kool-Aid packets, and you're forced to down it in a 5-minute span. Obvi, you can't drink or eat anything until after they've taken your blood an hour later, so this nasty orange crap is just floating around your stomach in the meantime--which is why I wasn't surprised when McBaby delivered me a series of rib kicks upon digesting it. He then thanked me with far gentler bladder elbowing after I gifted him with a jalapeno bagel smothered in cream cheese following my blood work. I seriously scarfed it right there during my appointment as my doctor checked the heart beat.

Another funny thing happened during that appointment--she started asking me all these questions she assumed I'd have answers too--like "Have you decided on a pediatrician" and "Are you pre-registered at the hospital yet." Needless to say, I need to stop re-reading The Hunger Games before bed, and get back to my pregger books--apparently they all suggested I have those tasks completed by now, including our enrollment in birthing classes, which was another cream cheese-mouthed "NOPE" from me.

But relax--it's not like I'm disorganized. I just kind of forgot how far along I am, and got all of those things taken care of in an hour! Plus, I've been concentrating on the important things, like his 0-3 month couture wardrobe, ordering all the Etsy artwork for his room, and working out to make sure I don't turn into Jessica Simpson.

Things are starting to get REAL up in here, and I can't believe this is the homestretch. Here's a pic of me at my east coast shower that was quite possibly the cutest theme of all time, thanks to my amazing family--Bridget Is Ready To Pop. Everything was pop-themed: soda pop, cake pops, jalapeno poppers, and even homemade poptarts! So lucky to have such cool and creative peeps for family.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

So This Is What It's Like To Be Fat


I know I keep exclaiming that I cannot believe how huge I am, but seriously, I cannot believe how huge I am. People keep trying to tell me I'm such a tiny pregnant woman (except my mom who refers to me as "real big"), but I feel like an elephant. Doing the most mundane tasks now have become difficult. Like, say, putting on my shoes.

I now grunt when performing most daily activities like getting up and down from the couch, rolling over on the bed, and even getting into the shower--which brings me to another topic no one felt necessary to warn me about--grooming. Now, I decided to get laser hair removal a little too late in the game. I got pregnant about halfway through my 10-pack of sessions, which was just a "hair" short on the growth pattern if you know what I mean. I always envisioned impressing the doctors and nurses at the hospital with my fresh pedicure and a hoo-ha that looked like it belonged to an infant, but alas, I'll be one of the legions of women doing a hack job on my vajayjay while timing out my contractions upon going into labor. And let me tell you, the upkeep aint fun with a hard as concrete huge belly in the way. Last night, my husband actually asked me if he could "help." Imagine?!

He also reminded me that I'm going to get a lot bigger, as did several women at my east coast baby shower. They started laughing at me when I claimed to be bigger than a house, reminding me that my feet haven't even begun to swell yet, and my "face isn't even pregnant yet." Sigh...I still don't get why anyone "loves" being pregnant. I just can't wait to be done with this, so that A. my baby is here, and B. I can have my body back! It just seems like everything is going to be way cooler once April is here. So let the countdown begin!