The quickening

Or "Holy Mindfuck, Batman! There's something moving inside me!"

The term "the quickening" means a couple of different things. According to The Oxford Dictionary "quicken" means to "give life or vigor to; rouse." So it refers to the point at which a fetus' brain has developed enough to start sending electric pulses to the limbs causing them to move. It also refers to the first time or times a pregnant woman feels the fetus move inside her. This last meaning, I refer to as the mindfuck.

You see, pregnancy is quite sucky the first tri-mester with all the fatigue and nausea. But other than feeling generally crappy like I had a bastard of a Wild Turkey hangover that lasted for six weeks, the whole pregnancy thing was still somewhat of a concept more than a reality. Even after getting ultrasound pictures of the little rascal, it still seemed like pictures of someone else's kid, not mine.

Then, the second tri-mester rolled around andI felt great! I felt so good and normal for awhile that I began, in fact, to question whether or not I was actually pregnant. Not that I want to complain about feeling good but it makes the fact that a child is on its way even more of a concept than a reality. At least when I felt like puking, I knew there was a reason for it.

Then, the mindfuck.

For several days I had thought that maybe some of the odd sensations that I was feeling were more than simply gas pains or run of the mill digestive action, but I wasn't sure. Then one day, I felt this gentle prodding, this poking, this mild jabbing sensation even and it happened five times in a row in the exact same spot. I knew at that point that it must be the fetus trying out its legs. Or arms. Or anything its got, HEY! (I thought you'd enjoy the Hokey Pokey earworm for the day :P) So, whoa! It's not so much of a concept anymore. There's actually something moving around in there! And, it's fiesty. I've taken to refering to it as the Pamplemousse as it's about the size of a small grapefruit these days. Not to mention that I crave fruit, particularly citrus constantly. While it has been hard to imagine that there's a fetus 5 inches long growing in my tummy, it is starting to make itself apparent by rapidly expanding my waistline. I'm starting to look pregnant and I imagine that in a few more weeks the whole world will be able to tell that my belly is the product of more than a weekend cheesecake binge. Mmm...cheesecake... Did I mention that I'm hungry? All the time? So, here's the deal. Want to guess how much weight I'll gain before this is all over? Winner is the closest quess without going over. Leave your guess in the comments and add $5 bucks to the pool next time you see me (or mail it to me). Winner takes all. For reference, I am normally 145-150. Average women gain 25-35 with a healthy pregnancy. I do have an affection for gluttony. Guess away!

4.0

Final grades for Spring semester were posted today and I got an A. This may be the first time ever I've had a cumulative grade point average of 4.0 two semesters running. This semester's class, Professional Ethics, was not hard but it was arduous. I dreaded it, in fact. I've spent a lot of time questioning the wisdom of starting a Masters degree in my 30's. Why, exactly, am I doing this? Yeah, yeah career advancement, blah, blah life long learning, personal enrichment and so on. I'm putting myself through what could potentially be a spirit crushing 8 week law for nonprofits intensive this summer. Why am I really doing this? I am not a glutton for punishment. I don't routinely do things that hurt or, frankly, tax me in any way. I like to lounge about, taking it easy. So, it must be the promise of money. Isn't that the real reason Americans do anything? I will put myself through three years of grad school misery only because there is the promise of a six figure salary at the other end.

The truth comes out.

The Future is Now

Baby is already taking after Daddy.

Week 15

I visted my OB yesterday and we listened to the fetus' heartbeat using a Doppler. It essentially looks like a microphone that you place on the belly. The sound was clear and very strong, cruising along at a nice speedy clip of 160 beats per minute. I've been feeling just fine, thank you very much for asking! The worst of the first-trimester yuks seem to be gone, only to be replaced by new curiosities like constant heartburn and other unseemly bodily functions. I've bugun to outgrow my wardrobe and will be packing most of it away in tubs soon. I've started wearing some of Angie's old maternity clothes (thanks, poo!) and will be unpacking the ones I got from Sam soon. My close co-workers know, but I have not told the whole world yet. I think they'll start to guess as the weather warms up and my belly gets rounder and harder to hide. I relish the opportunity to red-face the first person who asks by responding that "No, I am not, in fact, pregnant. I've just decided to let myself go..."

One line, two line, pink line, blue line

In reality, the test I took showed two very distinct pink lines. What does that mean? Well, it means that, maybe, just maybe, if all goes well, Nathan and I will welcome a baby into our family in a few months.

The cats will not be pleased.

Crazy Cat Lady

Cari with Tiva, Kiko and Fela on a recent snowy afternoon

My Invalid Kitty

My poor kitty, Tiva, who just turned 13 at the beginning of April, had to go in for surgery yesterday. He had developed two more tumors - one on his back and one on his paw right in between two toes. He has had surgery twice before and I swore after the last time I'd never put him through it again. However, he is really healthy otherwise and his bloodwork indicated that the cancer has not gotten into his system meaning that if they get all of the tumor I may be able to have the mean old bastard around for several more years. So, in he went. Bad news: in order to get all of the tumor on his paw, they had to amputate a toe. Good news: Dr. Braun thinks they got it all. The one on his back was easy to remove. He stayed overnight at the hospital and I picked him up this morning. He's in rough shape. He is covered in dander from the stress and shaved of his luxiorious black fur in several places where the needed to take blood and put in IVs. I'm working from home today so I can monitor him. He hadn't eaten since Monday so I gave him half a can of the wet food, which he never oridinarily gets because he's on a diet. Fatty! Thankfully, he chowed it down in no time flat, a good indicator that he'll be okay. He also managed to get some dry food and a little water down despite the high-sided elizabethan collar that is keeping him from gnawing at the stitches in his front paw. He is sleeping now on his favorite old green blankie. Another good sign. We'll have to keep him sequesterd in the office from the other kitties for several days as he cannot go down the stairs and needs to use special post-surgical litter. He is getting both a pain medication and an anti-inflammitory. Poor sucker will have to wear the e-collar until he gets his stitches out in 10 days. I feel so bad for him. He is a mean and nasty cat to most visitors to our house as many of you well know. But, to me, he is a loving, snuggling good boy and I love him very much! Poor Kitty!