reviving ophelia, and why i'm afraid to raise a daughter

before jane, i was a lazy human being. 

sure, i had a full time job that kept me busy for 40+ hours of the week, but any time in between you would have probably found me in my favorite chair with red-welted thighs from the heat of my laptop. i had little to no worries.

occasionally i took breaks to shower or make an egg salad sandwich, but for the most part i did nothing in my spare time. 

absolutely nothing. 

now when i have the time (ha), i spend it washing dishes, or doing laundry, or studying for my upcoming local anesthetic course. for the most part, though, i spend that tiny, extra time staring at my brand new baby. and i think and ask myself a lot of questions, like: 

what will she be like? 

will she be tall? 

will she ever grow hair? 

is that smell coming from her, or me? 

how can something so tiny produce that much drool?! 

and sometimes i ask myself more serious questions: 

will she always know how much we love her? 

will she always know how beautiful she is? 

will she always be as happy as she is right now?

but the biggest question on my mind lately is: 

will she have confidence in herself? 

and then i get scared. 

i worked at my dad's office while going to university, and him being the child and adolescent psychiatrist that he is opened my eyes to an array of new and interesting literature (twilight had just come out..'nuf said). these books lined the shelves in one of the vacant rooms and some days, when things were going particularly slow, i would go and pick up a book to read. the human psyche has always fascinated me (like father, like daughter?) and i loved brushing up on my obsessive compulsive and attention-deficit disorders. one day i picked up a book entitled "reviving ophelia: saving the selves of adolescent girls" and i began to read...and read...and read...until i finished it in less than a week. 

saying that it was an entertaining piece of work would be a complete understatement and do no justice for the author dr. mary pipher, a clinical psychologist. 

it changed me. 

reviving ophelia talks about the increasing societal pressures on adolescent girls and the negative, lifelong effects it can create. mary pipher gave examples from therapy sessions that she had had with young girls, and for the most part all the stories started out the same: each young women was very beautiful, talented, smart, and confident. as certain events played out in their lives, though, they began to lose themselves (losing their self esteem). she likened them to ophelia, shakespeare's fictional female character in the play hamlet (for those of you who didn't take grade 11 english), who at the end of the story tragically dies by drowning in a river. 

there is a famous painting by sir john everett millais of this exact scene that has always evoked a lot of mixed-emotions for me; ophelia is in the river, flowers strewn about her, with her hands held in the air in an angelic manner. i really like the painting, and find it quite beautiful...but at the same time there is a lot of sadness and tragedy behind it. 

("ophelia" by sir john everett millais)

this painting, to me, represents what most women have to face in their lives, whether it be repression, abuse, low self-esteem, or short legs.

(yes, having to hem every single pair of your pants is a daunting task.)

after reading this book, i began to think of my own life and how i had overcome a few trials, but still had issues with others. when i was little, i was a very confident girl. i wore what i wanted and let my imagination run wild in our family backyard. i'm sure i gave my mom a headache or two, but as far as i recall i was happy most of the time. 

then, as if it happened overnight, that happiness was leeched from inside of me. i wasn't that happy, care-free little girl anymore and as i reflected on my childhood i wondered: how did i lose myself? 

i thought of a few reasons that may have contributed to my growing low self-esteem: 

i had to wear a bra in grade four. 

...and then a year later, i learned a whole new geography lesson when the monthly "red river" appeared after swimming one day. yep, by grade six i was 5'7 and 110 pounds. i hated being that much larger than everyone else in my grade of 50 kids, and really struggled with being "different". by grade eight everyone had caught up, and even some surpassing me, but those latter elementary days were horrible. boys would flick my bra strap. i had to trade in my barbie dolls for maxi pads. to this day i still walk with a slouch because i had done it for so many years to try and appear smaller than i really was. these changes were obviously beyond my control, but once puberty hit with a fiery force i really thought my childhood had died. 

i have always worn my clothes one or two sizes bigger and contributed it to the fact that i hate trying clothes on in the store and would rather have them slightly roomier than too small. but the other day ben pointed out that it may have more to do with being self-conscious about my body, and trying to hide it. the more i thought about that, the more i realized that it may hold some truth since that's exactly what i did when i was younger...and just haven't kicked the bad habit quite yet. 

we moved around...a lot. 

ok so maybe three times isn't a lot, but for our little family it proved to be plenty. i realize now that my parents were just trying to give us the best quality of life, but our last family move to magrath was hard. when you're living in a small, farming community where everyone is related and you don't know what a combine is, you're bound to get teased from time to time. 

(note: i still don't know exactly what a combine is used for). 

the first few years in magrath were hard, from bullying at school to not really fitting in anywhere. if there's one thing i regret from those early years, it's that i didn't have enough confidence to help those around me that were getting treated way worse than i was (in fear that i'd suffer serious repercussions if i intervened). it's been 17 years since we first moved there, and although it has become our hometown and we love the friends we have made, i often feel that people still look at us as "outsiders". 

my parents were...weird! 

they only paid for things if they had the cash for it (going into debt was totally unheard of)

they used a compost, and reusable containers (all i ever wanted was a brown paper bag to put my lunch in like the rest of my friends)

they encouraged us to read instead of watching TV (we had to pull out the bunny ears to get any reception because we didn't have cable or satellite...how embarrassing!) 

they fed us odd things like fresh fruits and vegetables (wagon wheels in lunches were like golden tickets) 

...and don't even get me started on the rules and limitations they set for us (so weird, right?!)

(note: obviously i am kidding, and appreciate everything my parents have done for me, but as a little girl this was something i was really self conscious about: having a family who recycled, was responsible with money, and enjoyed reading good books. why couldn't we just be normal, right?)

boys (do i really need to continue?)

i never thought my nose was big until a boy in grade six told me so...and years later that same boy became my very first boyfriend and continued to tell me everything that was wrong with me. after three hellish years i decided i had had enough...and although it was hard, i moved on...and vowed to never be with someone who made me doubt my own self-worth ever again. although this experience made me the girl i am today, i wish i had been strong enough to walk away when things first started going south.

but, c'est la vie...

i didn't have a best friend.

...this was a big deal for me. ya i had a good group of girlfriends but all of them seemed to pair off and i was always the odd one out. 

"i can be your best friend!" my mom would say to try and cheer me up (but remember, this was the lady who made me eat strange things like spinach and bell peppers). 

i felt so alone at times, despite my best efforts in finding a "bff". i remember asking one particular friend why she didn't like hanging out with just me, and she said it was because she "got jealous." for those of you who know/knew me, i have always tried to make people feel welcome. i sincerely apologize if i have ever made you feel jealous, or unworthy; it was/has never been my intention. 

my last year of high school was brutal. i didn't hang out with anyone, and resorted to my crappy boyfriend. i remember wondering if it would ever get better. it wasn't until my second year of university where i truly understood what a good friend was, and am forever grateful for those who showed me.

...and it wasn't until three years ago when i nervously sat with a boy as he stumbled to find the right words and finally asked me to be his wife, that i had found my best friend.

it took years for me to regain what had once been lost in my self esteem, but when i held my little girl for the first time in the hospital, i felt that happiness again that i thought was gone for good. 

yes, as a new mom i sometimes feel ill-equipped, and am not too sure what i'm doing most of the time...

but i'm enjoying the journey.

...now i fear for my daughter. when "reviving ophelia" was written, it was before the days of facebook and kim kardashian. how will i teach jane to be confident? 

how will i teach her that it's ok if she doesn't have the dirtiest mirror for kissy-face bathroom shots? 

that she's still important even though she only got "10 likes" on her last instagram photo? 

that the sun will still rise if she doesn't have a boyfriend? 

that respecting yourself is more important than gaining a man's admiration? 

that saying no to drugs and illegal activities is DEFINITELY the right thing to do? 

that standing up for those who need a defender is probably not going to win you a lot of friends, but will make you a better person for it? 

that she will always be loved, and at the least by her weird parents who make her eat strange things like spinach and bell peppers?

that she is beautiful, big nose and all (cross your fingers my genes are recessive!)? 

that she needs to find a man who is as good and kind-hearted like her father, who treats her mother as an equal and not like a prop? 

the more i think about this, the more i realize that the only way jane is going to learn to love herself is through example. sometimes things can happen in life that leave you hopeless and alone, but i'm living proof that you can overcome it and find yourself again. 

ophelia's been revived. 

in the ghetto

in case you didn't know, i kind of live in the ghetto. we've been situated on the rougher side of the tracks (i'm not kidding...the light rail AND freight train tracks run right through our backyard) for over a year now, and have complained about it...well, for over a year. we never intended to stay for as long as we have, but alas here we are and we're certainly trying to make the best of it.

for those of you who are not familiar with the term "ghetto", the online definition reads:

"An impoverished, neglected, or otherwise disadvantaged residential area of a city, usually troubled by a disproportionately large amount of crime." 

if you're like me, and use more of the "visual" part of your brain, here is a definition through colorful photos i took yesterday on a walk around my neighborhood:

in the ghetto, we support anarchy and hate the government (even though the majority of us don't work and live off of government cheques...)

in the ghetto, we forget what day the garbage man comes...

in the ghetto, god is our co-pilot...

in the ghetto, every day is christmas...

in the ghetto, your neighbors think your front lawn is a parking lot (butt crack 3 o'clock!)

and in the ghetto, there are no scenic views from your back porch- but instead a front row seat to the LRT platform!

a part of me is going to miss this place when we eventually move on to bigger and better things...

(not.) 

and now i leave you with the king, singing my life story...

stuff ben does...

i'd like to think i have a good grapple on how the male mind works. i'm pretty sure the population in whole has some degree of asperger's syndrome (read: self-diagnosing is one of my less-desirable traits) and their ability to tune everything out the minute an electronic device turns on is something i've learned to accept. i married a man whose pretty easy to read ie: grumpy = tired and hungry, happy = smiling and passing gas (hey...does this remind anyone of a certain 1 month old infant??). he makes things real simple by being great: doing the dishes, vacuuming, organizing the cupboards (what do you mean just throwing things in there and shutting the door real fast before they fall won't solve the problem?!), and cooking so the both of us can survive (hey----i warned him before we got married that i lived off of tv-dinners for 6 years of my life). 

so, to chalk things up---- i basically married the perfect man (be jealous...i dare you!). 

as perfect as ben is though, there are some things that still remain a mystery in our marriage:

1. used band-aids left on the coffee table, on the counter, in the shower...

i understand if he simply forgot to throw it in the garbage, but every time i watch ben put on a band-aid, the suspense nearly kills me as to where i will find it next a few days later...

2. used q-tips on the floor of our bedroom 

after our first anniversary, i started noticing used q-tips all over the bedroom floor. when i confronted ben about it, he explained that after he showered he would use the q-tips, and after he was done cleaning his ears, he would throw said q-tips on the floor for our cat bruce (i got him as an anniversary gift) to play with them. 

"he just loves playing with them so much, sara!" he says to me time and again. 

ya, that's great ben----but we've been married for over two years now and i have yet to see you throw your q-tips in the trash, leaving the only other person in the house who knows how to use her opposable thumbs to clean them up. pas cool.  

3. putting clothes near, but not quite "in" the laundry basket 

now this one's a brain-teaser. i will find clothes so close, sometimes TOUCHING the laundry basket, yet they haven't quite made it in. so of course i do the noble thing and place them in there, only to have ben ask me what had happened to them. 

"i put them in the laundry," i reply. 

"but they weren't dirty!" he retorts. 

oh, my mistake. the societal norm is that if clothes are on the floor, or by the laundry basket, they're usually rendered unclean, no? 

i don't even want to count how many sweaters are down there. 

4. crumbs...oooh the crumbs!

exhibit A: i'm beginning to suspect that all men think there's a little "crumb fairy" who magically removes all the messes you make after you prepare your lunch in the morning...(don't even get me started on raspberry flavored crystal-light droplets staining the countertop because they weren't wiped up right away!)

5. cereal for a snack and/or dinner

no explanation necessary.

a little uppity-update!

it's been day two of jane napping during the day (she refuses as of late) so i thought i'd update the ol' bloggity-blog while i have a small window to do so (knock on wood)...

week four of motherhood is quickly coming to a close, and to be quite honest i never thought i would enjoy the role of madre as much as i do. i didn't really connect to babies growing up. i hated babysitting and thought the whole experience was entirely too much work. the work-ideal hasn't changed: i have perma-bags under my eyes and eat my lunch at 3 in the afternoon on a good day, but i really, truly, like being a mom! this realization came to me yesterday after jane had peed through her third outfit and then threw up all over my chest while i was feeding her. i was calm. not just calm, but calm bolded and italicized calm. i have never been more content than i am changing a poopy diaper and having the chronic smell of baby vomit hovering around me like a swarm of flies. 

life. is. good. 

luckily, jane has decided she likes sleeping at night, and averages around 6 hours before she demands my services. ben doesn't seem to be phased either by the new addition to the foot of our bed as his deep, methodical snoring has proven. you'd think i'd be getting in on some of this zzz action too though, right? wrong. since both jane and ben are competing for who can be the loudest between her incessant grunting and his old-man wheezing, i'm lucky if i sleep for more than an hour at a time. 

and then there's the anxiety. i wake up every hour anyway and poke jane to make sure she's still alive. sure enough, she usually is (just kidding----she always is) and i'll have waken her up and she lets out a monster cry...(like i've literally poked a sleeping monster.)

speaking of noises...sometimes i feel like i've given birth to a gremlin. the sounds that come out of that child's mouth are not from this world. i can't seem to put my finger on it: is it orc? troll? elvish? if i throw water on her will she die? or is it grow? i can't remember (i haven't seen gremlins in probably twenty years). whatever it is, it keeps me guessing. 

we've been able to go out a few times, but for the most part i'm afraid to take her anywhere. not because i'm weird about germs, or that i'm afraid she'll cry the whole time (which has happened) but mostly because...i don't know how to work the stroller! who's idea was it to buy the gucci-est of all strollers, anyway? (oh right, mine.) one day i'll sit down and read the manual so i can figure out all its gadgets, but for now we'll just wait for ben to get home (because he's the one who assembled it). 

so far, i've only been accosted twice in public. the first time was in the designated breast feeding area in the mother's lounge at the mall, where a lady told me she couldn't believe that i just "whip my boob out" wherever i please, and was offended. (she then proceeded to tell me that she chose not to breast feed because it's "weird" as she waited for her formula to finish heating up so she could feed her 3 week old baby with it.) i had a blanket over top of me the whole time i fed jane, but even if i hadn't, what did this woman expect to find in a mother's lounge?! a bunch of dogs smoking cigars sitting around a poker table?

the second time was this past week at the doctor's office. we were there for jane's 1 month check-up and she decided to be fussy while we waited. i picked her up and rocked her a bit, but she still was crying bloody-mary. the lady beside me told me that my baby was probably hungry, and i politely said that i didn't think she was because i had just fed her before we came to the appointment. she proceeded to tell me that she has two kids of her own and that was the sound of a hungry baby. she asked why i hadn't brought anything for the baby, and i told her i didn't think i needed to because ifedherbeforewecame. i got up and started pacing around the waiting room and jane eventually settled down (poor girl just had to pass some gas). 

so... pretty much one adventure after another these days. i'm definitely learning more than i ever have, about babies, other people, and especially about myself. it's funny how i can go from an 8 hour work day strategically planned out to an all-around-the-clock job that's as unpredictable as this pregnancy. 

but...like i said...

life. is. good. 

so i'm like, a mom now.

wow. who knew so much could happen in one week!

last monday, the 18th of february to be exact, i woke up miserable and still very pregnant. i had doubled in size (due to lovely water retention) over the weekend and even tights didn't fit on my thighs anymore. i looked at ben (after mellow dramatically throwing a pair of jeans across the room) and said,

"i am sooo over this."

and i really was. none of my shoes fit my fat feet anymore, and sleep had become non-existent with the chronic hip pain i had attained over the past 9 months. i would eat a carrot stick and get heart burn, and having to pee 12 billion times a night was less than ideal.

i thought i was going to be pregnant for at least another 9 months...

at least. 

we resumed our day like any other: went to the grocery store, watched the new walking dead episode, and were planning to go see a movie later that night. i decided not to go (i blamed it on being too uncomfortable but really it had more to do with that fact that i had nothing to wear) but told ben he should still go because it probably would be the last time for a long time that he'd be able to go to a movie. before he left, we joked about me going into labor while he was gone, but didn't really think anything of it.

so, ben went to the movies and i sat at home watching old dateline episodes until finally going to bed at around 10:30.

fast forward an hour later...

i woke up to find that i had wet the bed. a little embarrassed, i text ben to ask see where he was. i tried to get up but realized i was still in fact wetting the bed. i couldn't understand why i had lost all control; ya, during the past 9 months i had occasionally "tinkled" after sneezing or laughing too hard, but it had been a long time since i had full-on peed my pants (ok...there was an incident after the halloween dance in grade nine where i just could not hold it any longer and kind of lost it at breanna's house...and she promised me she wouldn't tell anyone but then come monday morning everyone at school knew.) 

(it's not like i'm not bitter or anything...)

anyway, i digress...

it took about 15 minutes for me to come to terms that my water may have broken, but i was still hesitant to go to the hospital and have it turn out to be plain ol' incompetence. so, i called ben and luckily he was out of the movie and just a ten minute drive away. when he got home i told him to examine the damage in the bed, and he agreed that i probably needed to go to the hospital too (i failed to mention the grade nine mishap). so, we loaded up the truck and drove the 5 minutes to rockyview general hospital and were admitted shortly after due to muconeum (aka: POOP) present in the bags of water which meant that the baby might be under distress.

at this point i wasn't feeling any contractions. i had been walking around 3cm dilated for the past week but for the most part had not felt any pain. the doctor said she would give me a few hours to try and get into active labor, but then i would probably have to be induced if i hadn't progressed. so ben and i took a few turns around the hospital wing, sat on the birthing ball, and narrowed down a few baby names that we liked.

by 3am i was only 5cm dilated, so i was hooked up to an IV and given oxytocin to get things going. i was warned in our prenatal class that contractions can come on stronger and much faster once oxytocin is administered but little did i know how true this rang. by 4:30 the contractions were coming on every 30 seconds and as much as i would have liked to have a natural birth (i'm sorry mom, i'm just not as strong as you----i saw you lift a sectional couch and carry it into a house one time; you have brute strength!) by 5 in the morning i was given an epidural and all was well in the world again.

i literally have not felt that comfortable for the past 3 years (being a hygienist you tend to pick up adorable traits like chronic back/neck pain) and wouldn't mind getting an epidural on a regular basis. it was also nice because both ben and i were able to rest until 9:30, when i was told it was time to push.

i don't know if the epidural had worn off at this point, or maybe its sole purpose is just to help with contractions, but during the delivery i swear it wasn't working.

i. felt. every. thing. 

but...by 11:02am the baby was out and quickly rushed over to the team of doctors ready to suction all the muconeum off so none would be inhaled. the doctors were so efficient and focused in doing this that they failed to mention what the gender of our baby was, so about five minutes later i politely asked what we had had.

"a girl!" they cried, and i was in complete shock. from the beginning i was certain i was having a boy----i just had a feeling! i basically bought all boy clothes and even had a boy name picked out. but when i held that little girl for the first time and she instantly stopped crying, i knew i was supposed to have her.

she was the most beautiful thing i had ever seen, poop-covered and all. i was completely in love with this light-haired, fair-skinned child. that first night in the hospital was rough and even though jane wanted to be fed for what seemed like every 30 minutes, i didn't care. i didn't care that i was absolutely exhausted and in excruciating pain (read: the third-degree tear variety), all i cared about was holding that little girl so close and drinking it all in (not literally...she was still covered in poop).

i can't explain it, but ever since that first day with jane nothing else really matters anymore. i'm more relaxed and feel like i can handle anything that comes my way now. in just one short week, i've become more responsible, more caring, and even more compassionate.

the best thing, though? seeing ben with his little girl. when i first got pregnant he told me that he only wanted boys but i think a girl is exactly what he needed. i would see him with his little nieces and how gentle and kind he was with them, that i secretly prayed every night for 9 months for a girl. he is completely whipped.

and for posterity's sake (and since i'm a terrible record keeper)...

WEEK ONE: JANE IS...
-long! long fingers, long toes, long body.
-alert: every time she opens those squinty eyes of her she's looking around, or staring into my soul.
-eating: in one week she has surpassed her birth weight!
-strong: five minutes after she swam through the birth canal she was trying to hold her head up.
-gassy: poor girl hasn't figured out how to poop properly yet (probably wore herself out from all the pooping she did in-utero!)
-swaddling: this girl won't fall asleep unless she's wrapped as tight as possible.
-wiggly: she seems to wiggle out of any death-grip swaddle.

and lastly, a huge dump of photos from the past week (yep...i'm becoming that mom!):

fresh out of the womb...

after her first bath (she surprisingly loved it!)

loves her bio-dad

gives a mean stink-eye

milk breath

milk-induced coma

loves her new bouncy chair from aunt darla----thanks again! 

welp...we all know who the favorite is in the house...

love those fart-induced smiles! 

favorite view

stuff ben says...

for most of you who know ben, he comes off as a quiet, somewhat shy specimen. once he gets to know you and feels comfortable, though, the boundaries are forever broken. the kid is a freakin' hoot!

since i've had a lot of time on my hands for the past two weeks (read: get this thing outta me!!) and ben isn't working until after the baby comes, we have spent a lot of time together where i've been able to relish in all that is "ben"...and lemme tell ya, he's proven to be the best form of entertainment a 40+ week pregnant monster can endure!

STUFF BEN SAYS: 

1. After the Grammy's...

"Adele could eat Chris Brown; he's such a scrawny guy." 

2. After telling him to wear socks to bed instead of sticking his icicle feet on my legs...

Ben: "I'm not going to wear socks to bed, who do you think I am? Leo?!"

Me: "Who the crap is Leo?!"

Ben: "My grandpa. He always wore socks to bed." 

3. After listening to "A Heart Full of Love" from Les Mis and creating his own rendition of Marius' solo...

"Cosette! Show me your boobies!"

4. After sniffing around the living room for a good five minutes...

Me: "What do you smell?" 

Ben: "Trouble." 

5. After hearing an unwanted noise from the couch...

Me: "Ben, did you fart?" 

Ben: "A little bit." 

6. After deciding to keep his beard for a little while longer...

"I'm afraid to shave my beard because then I can't hide my chubby face anymore. You see, people look at me and think 'oh he looks chubby because of that beard' when really, I just have a chubby face!" 

7. After watching 3 James Bond movies in a row...

"I wish I had a bimbo; instead I got this smart, beautiful wife." 

8. After we decided we need to get in shape for Hawaii...

Me: I'm making meal plans- if we are going to get our bikini bodies ready for August, we have to take action." 

Ben: "Haha...can you imagine? Me? In a bikini?!" 

(we really need to have this baby.) 

a birthday post.

this past monday was my 26th birthday, and when i woke up that morning i was positive i was going to have a baby. a lot of people have commented that it would be hard to share a birthday, the last thing you have to yourself before a baby comes, but i love the idea! my mom and aunt have the same birthday and we always have a gay ol' time every january 30th (even though we're all constipated for a week following after eating 2 cakes in one day). much to my disappointment, though, no baby arrived but it was still one of the best days i've had in awhile...and here's why...

we started the day a little later than i had hoped (since i wake up at 5am without fail lately) but finally at 8am i asked ben if i could open my present. he agreed and i was excited to find that i got one of these:

it connects to your iphone so you don't have to put it up to your cheek (i always have my phone on speaker because i hate doing that...crisis averted now!)

we then got ready to go for a birthday lunch, and although i was really tempted to eat some indian buffet (and order the spiciest curry dish to get this baby out of me!), i opted for boston pizza instead. (i really like their lunch specials, ok?! and i'm not fancy...) 

**side note: ben laughs at me because i've been getting ready every morning just in case i go into labor (like i'm really going to care what i look like when i'm hip-deep in placenta juice, right?)**

as many of you already know, the only thing i really asked for my birthday was a chocolate cake that would put bruce bogtrotter's to shame...

...so we grabbed some cupcakes from bliss & co. after lunch and let me tell you, i couldn't even get through half of one before i was sick to my stomach (a good kind of sick, though!)

we walked around the mall for about an hour until i could have sworn the baby's head was wedged between my legs (turns out i just had to go #2). apparently i had partied too hard because 10 minutes after we got home, i was passed out cold on the couch for a good 3 hours. during that time, sneaky ben ran out and bought me some more presents: a bag of mini eggs, old dutch dill pickle chips, real eggs (we were out), and this rocking chair: 

 

...sooo ever since we moved to calgary last year and realized ikea is just a 10 minute drive down the road, we've become a little obsessed. (i'm looking around my house right now and am pretty sure every other piece of furniture is from the ever-addicting swedish brand.) and it doesn't help that every time we have family come visit we make a trip over there too (ok...we love any excuse to go!) last week when we were there with my parents who were driving through town on their way to kananaskis, we saw this rocking chair and thought it might be handy for when the baby arrives. in the end we didn't get it since i do have a perfectly good, yet uncomfortable, eames one but ben being the guy he is went and got it for me anyway. 

just giving it a test run to see if it calms a cranky baby (bruce on the other hand, not so much)...

and then ben proved to be the great guy he is by making me a chocolate cake that anyone would risk the "chokey" to eat! (am i the only one getting the matilda references?!)

we finished the night by finally watching the new episode of the walking dead, and for the first time in a long time we sat on the same couch and cuddled (not because our marriage is on the rocks, we just have really small couches and would prefer to have one for each of us!)

the best part of the whole day, though, was being able to spend it with this handsome brute! it's funny what pregnancy does to you: i know i love ben and appreciate everything he does for me, but there's a different degree of love that forms when i think about him being the father of the little nut whose currently occupying my uterus and making sleep completely impossible...and that one part of this child is me, the other half him...i could not ask for a better baby-daddy! 

i remember the first month we started seriously dating, and how frustrated i was that ben was so shy and wouldn't really open up and i almost broke it off with him completely. one night i talked to him about it and to this day i vividly remember his response: 

"well sara, i really like you and i don't want to lose you, so i will do whatever it takes to win you over." 

little did he know he did just that with those simple words. 

i was to the point in my life where i was tired of falling for gay men (ok...that only happened once...maybe twice...the jury's still out on the second guy) and from that night on i have had my mind only set on ben...

and it only took him 1.22222 seconds to win me over. 

(thanks for a great day, a wonderful life, and an unfettered love that i still can't believe i deserve!)

what i didn't expect when i was expecting...

before you discover that you're pregnant for the first time, you envision telling your husband like a hallmark commercial----complete with joyous cries and hugs and witty ways in revealing the news. never do you think it's going to be a spur of the moment stop to the drug store via en route to the playing of "moonrise kingdom". or that you sneak into the theatre washroom mid-movie after downing a large dr. pepper, only to find yourself stunned, staring at two red stripes on the stick you just urinated on.

and then instead of balloons or confetti or even waiting 'til after the show has ended, you tuck back into your seat and shoot your husband a text that goes something like this:

"i just peed. you have some explaining to do." 

then after the movie, and after you've said goodbye to the other people in your party, your husband turns to you and says, "are you sure?"

and even after 3 more drugstore tests and one trip to the doctor, he's still not buying it. but, right when you think it's going to end with a trip to maury povich for a paternity test, your husband decides that you're not making it up after you gag over the smell of bread. but it still takes him a few months to warm up to the idea...

(believe me now, ben?!)

the first three months were well, pretty painless. you leave the first trimester unscathed with morning sickness and only minor bouts of nausea, but by month four your nose begins to get the best of you. instead of factoring in hormones, you are convinced something has died in your kitchen. domestic bliss has never been your forte and you don't spend too much time preparing food as it is, but every time you open the fridge to grab a cold beverage or left over spaghetti, an odor that can only be described as a "troll's beard" seeps through your nostrils and you can't help but run out of the kitchen gagging and crying.

every outlet has a glade air freshener plugged into it, but the smell of the dead mythological creature's facial hair prevails...

you try really hard to eat healthy, but unfortunately your brain is now telling you that eating raw fruits and vegetables is equivalent to eating uncooked ground beef. so for the first 4 months your diet consists of pizza pops, ramin, pizza pops, hummus w/ pita bread, and chef boyardee.

all of which you can't look at now without dry heaving. 

(20 weeks)

by month 5 you're beginning to feel like yourself again. your appetite has evened out and you're no longer waking up at two in the morning from hunger. you're still wondering when you'll start showing so you can start dressing like pregnant goddesses heidi klum and victoria beckham, but just when your nose starts cooperating, you notice that you've acquired a cute cluster of acne along your jawline...and then your forehead...and then your neck...and it moves down your whole back, and even onto your stomach.

and then you begin to hate heidi klum, victoria beckham, miranda kerr...pretty much every single member of the victoria's secret model crew...and realize that the only "glow" pregnancy has brought is the inch of grease on your forehead.

and then there's the inevitable "mood swings". luckily, you haven't had many but discover that certain stimuli should be avoided:

-allowing patients to turn to steel magnolias on the tv while you're cleaning their teeth at work
-the new les miserable trailer
-and every folgers coffee commercial

but crying is the least of your worries, because you have found that pregnancy has brought on hysterical, borderline psychotic laughing attacks...and everything is funny. your husband is really loving this because what used to be annoying traits of his (ahem...bodily functions) seem to be his best comedy routines. you begin to wonder if you'll ever make it to the third trimester without going into cardiac arrest from watching one too many cat videos on youtube...

(6 months)

but alas, the third trimester comes and you begin to show and initially are excited because you can now fit into the maternity tops you bought on a whim way back when your fetus was the size of a snap pea. but this excitement doesn't last long, because by month 7 your feet begin to look something like this:

(you name them samwise and frodo, respectively.)

and dreams of looking like this: 

look more like this:

(photo courtesy of: one cruel husband)

but then, if things could possibly get worse, by month 7 you're so swollen and sore that pregnancy decides to throw a curve ball and give you carpal tunnel. it gets so bad that you can barely wipe your butt most days...and don't even think about trying to knit...out of the question. the baby is doing the mexican hat dance directly above your bladder, and you begin to walk like you've peed your pants (which sometimes you think you might have). and as for movement and baby kicks: never once you think that they're "butterfly flutters or rainbow kisses" but more along the lines of poor judgment and eating a whole little caesar's hot 'n ready to yourself...and the repercussions that follow...

(you must now resort to those nasty wrist braces to get a decent wipe...)

and then you begin to hate yourself for ever agreeing to working up until 38 weeks, but on your last day of work you stay 2 hours after just because you have no idea what you're going to do now...so you decide to make an impromptu trip to visit your family since it's your mother's birthday. at this point your patience is non-existent, feet are the size of watermelons, and sleep deprivation is an old familiar friend. you almost go homicidal on a few family members after your brother calls you "fat" but chalk it up to poor taste in jokes and an undiagnosed case of asperger's syndrome. 

but then your husband decides to jiggle the chin jowl you've attained from the swelling and a month's worth of pizza pops, and you've had it. you walk into your 39 week check-up with low expectations when out of the blue your doctor tells you that you're 3cm dilated and she could stretch your cervix a bit to get things rolling. you agree to this because you have just finished watching star wars: attack of the clones and could really be put out of your misery since you're not sure you can handle another movie with hayden christensen's feeble attempt at acting. 

so the doctor gets down to business, but a thought crosses your mind mid-stretch: you can't go into labor this weekend because there's a new episode of the walking dead! and amc has made you wait a whole month for it...priorities, right?

but it's too late, and you're sent on your merry way. 

so here you sit: waiting for the baby to arrive and reminiscing about the past 9 months. you have lunch's apple juice stained on your shirt, and it's gotten to the point where you can't blame your husband for all the unwanted noise, because these days, you can out-fart him without even trying. 

but you're ready. 

you think...?

(38 weeks)

crap i saw on pinterest part deux: pregnancy edition

1. pregnancy countdowns

i know i sent this to a few of you already this week via picture text message, but i still can't get over it. first of all, i think it's great to jot down your whole pregnancy experience, but maybe i can't grapple all of this since i didn't know i was pregnant for a long time (aka: i didn't feel any different). and we didn't tell our family until i was at least 3 months along, and didn't break the news to everyone else until i was close to 20 weeks. the only thing i noticed initially before i found out i was pregnant was that it felt like someone had sucker-punched me right in the boobs, and a part of me firmly believed that this was a sign that i was finally going through that much anticipated stage of puberty every jr. high girl hopes for (read: flatgirlproblems). 

let me break it down for you: 

56 glasses of water: 

that's normal. actually, everyone should be drinking that much water because it's healthy for you. 

53 hours of sleep: 

obviously this chick doesn't watch dateline.

35 trips to the bathroom:

diabeetus, maybe?

16 days 'til news breaking: 

would make you at 6.5 weeks along; still seems too soon to me 

14 days until ultrasound: 

your baby will look like genetic goop. 

9 names discussed:

well, who doesn't love talking about baby names? 

6 mood swings:

honey, don't blame it on the hormones...you's clearly a (cough*b#*%h*cough)

4 hours working on baby's room:

no comment. 

and etc. etc. etc. 

bottom line, i just think it's too soon to be this over-zealous (but that's just me). 

(and you guys too, right?!)

2. lose body fat while you're pregnant

every book i have read so far (ok...i've only read one, and i'm only on chapter two) has said that the worst thing you can do while pregnant is try to lose any body weight/fat. i commend any women who CAN exercise and eat right whilst knocked up, but i have not been able to do either and honestly...i don't feel guilty about it at all. of course i've tried to get the proper nutrients in my system for my little womb-mate (see what i did there?) but if i want that second (or third) piece of cake by golly i'm going to eat it! nobody feels great pregnant...but are we really that selfish that we'll deprive our baby of the much needed cushion it requires to grow and function properly?

(stuffs mouth with rice krispie treat.)