Forget the army. I've joined the Maternal Reserves.

I have no new and exciting news to report. I just thought I should probably update at least once a week. The only new and slightly interesting development is my enlarging abdominal circumference. Its not baby yet. But I think it is a combination of the following: growing uterus (which begins stretching out the moment you get pregnant and feels very much like there is a tiny pizza maker in there who is tossing it about and stretching it with his knuckles), excess water retention, and--the inevitable--fat. Or as all the pregnancy books euphemistically refer to it, "maternal reserves."

"Maternal reserves" my ass. And I mean that literally. They have attached to my ass, as well as my no-longer-delicate waistline, with a few extra chunks thrown into my thighs for good measure. Those of you who know what size jeans I wear might find this all a bit hard to believe. But I assure you, there is no exaggeration here. After all, I will be 9 weeks on Wednesday (!!!). The fat accumulation has to start at some point.

In other news, I told two of my co-workers about my pregnancy over Mexican at lunch the other day. They were both thrilled and this confirmed that I had made a wise choice in telling them. Hell, I got better reactions out of them than some of my friends and family. Rachel (who is soon to be married) was interested in all the dirty pregnancy details. While Dylan, my gay friend, contributed his fantasies of what it will be like when he gets pregnant.

My next dilemma is when and how to tell my boss. Because inevitably the question after I announce my pregnancy will be, "And what do you plan to do after the baby is born?" I already have an answer, but I would like to withhold that information as long as possible. Unfortunately, my frequent doctor's visits and increasingly noticeable "bulge" might limit the time that I am able to remain "under cover."

In the meantime, I'll observe as all efforts are maximized on the "Maternal Reserve" front....and sides....and rear.

Pickles, Olives, Fruit-Rollups...Oh My!

Enter weird cravings (stage left). Okay, so I'm not necessarily mashing my pickles into vanilla ice-cream or having olive pancakes for breakfast. But I am finding that food I don't normally eat is having the most satisfactory effect on my digestive system.

Today, I reached the threshhold. After two weeks of feeling nauseas and finding ABSOLUTELY NOTHING EDIBLE (to me, anyways...) in the house, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Brian, being the angelic husband that he is, had been doing the grocery shopping recently. But unfortunately, he was buying food that we normally eat. "Normally" as in pre-pregnancy. And "normal" food has been been wreaking havoc on my innards.

So today, I picked my lazy ass off the sofa, threw on some pants with an elastic waistband, gave myself a little pep talk and faced the most daunting of tasks for a woman with pregnancy nausea (morning sickness is an inappropriate term when the sickness is perpetual): the Grocery Store. When you are pregnant, you suddenly realize there are smells you never even knew existed. Horrific smells that you are glad you never had to experience before. And the grocery store is the hell-zone where these smells not only exist in abundance, but also blend and mix with each other to create a truly tortuous experience.

My goal was this: go down every single aisle and throw in anything that looks appealing or doesn't make me feel like I am about to do a scene from the Exorcist.

Mission was accomplished successfully. The nausea was kept under control. I drove home, barely able to contain my excitement about breaking open that jar of dill pickles and ravaging it. Skip forward to Brian helping me unload the bags and put everything away. One after the other, as he pulls each item from the bag, a look of horror begins to creep over his face. If I guess correctly, I believe that must be the moment he realized that he will not be eating a "normal" meal in this house for the next 7 1/2 months.

While typing this, I have consumed almost half a jar of olives. And I feel better than I have in weeks.

Heart and soul

Yesterday we were privileged to have our first ultrasound, at 7 weeks. I cannot describe to you the feeling you have when you see proof of your baby's existence before your eyes for the very first time. There on the screen in front of me was my 1.2 cm long child. And even more amazing....I watched its little tiny heart flickering on the screen (134 beats a minute). Tears filled my eyes. How incredible is it that I could see my baby's heart beating at 7 weeks???

That made it a lot more real for me. I am now growing more and more excited about this little peanut. I will post the sonogram picture shortly. To everyone else's eyes he will look like a small piece of lint. But to me, the most beautiful piece of lint I have ever seen. Stay tuned for more.....

The Miracle Diet

Wanna lose some weight? I've got a great diet you've gotta try. Its called the "I'm-Preggo-And-The-Site-Of-Food-Makes-Me-Want-To-Yak" diet. Seriously, give it a whirl!

Hardly anything looks appetizing at all anymore. Your stomach growls angrily at you for not feeding it (hopefully you don't sit too near your co-workers like I do. Try to explain the sounds of a rabid rottweiler coming from your abdomen…). But nothing you could possibly put into your mouth will soothe the ferocious beast that was once known as your stomach. You search the refrigerator for the hundredth time, hoping you might find some heavenly piece of food that will magically disarm your gag reflex. But no. There is no such food.

So you settle for last night's leftover spaghetti. You tell yourself you LOVE spaghetti, that you have always cherished it. You seduce that spaghetti like you want to take its virginity. But once that first bite hits your taste buds, forget it. All I can say is, make sure you are standing within sight of the trashcan, sink or toilet.

I haven't had the experience of "reproducing" a half-digested meal into the nearest toilet yet. But many, MANY times I feel like I am about to. My own personal nausea has decided it isn't enough to afflict me during the 16 hours that I am awake. No, it now crowds my bed at night (and has destroyed my sex life). Just me, Brian, and my pet nausea.

Its so easy to forget the reason why I'm sick. I'm so focused on being sick, that I frequently forget that this time it isn't just a 24-hour bug. Its actually a sign that my little bean is in there, swimming around, wagging his little lizard-like tail, growing into a little human being. Really that thought is the only thing that can soothe my raging nausea. And the nausea doesn't really go away, but I can embrace it. Because I know that it is just one of my body's own orange construction signs that says: "Miracle At Work."

Today I am feeling that this is going to be a very long journey. There are still so many milestones to reach. Milestones that not only signify the passage of time, but also add relief to the ever-present worries of an expectant parent.

The next big one is the "8-week marker". This milestone is seen by many as leaving the most dangerous zone, as far as miscarriages go. The percentage of chances drops significantly. And of course the next really big one will be leaving the first trimester all together, at about 12.5 weeks. Ahhh, has time EVER passed this slowly?

In other news, I dreamed about my little bun the other night. He was very fat and rolly. And jolly. That's right, I dreamed that I had a boy. And you know what "they" say: if you dream about the gender, chances are that its true. Of course, it could just be b/c I've been thoroughly convinced since the moment we found out we are preggers, that there is a little Brian Junior in there. (Brian likes to think that there is a Brian Junior AND a "Lizzy Junior" in there. I pray that he is wrong….)

Well, its time to get my bloated ass to the kitchen to see if I can find anything that looks even remotely appetizing.

The Big News

It's official. I've gotten myself "knocked up." On June 29, 2005, I got my first positive home pregnancy test. We were in shock. It wasn't exactly an accident, but it happened a little quicker than we expected. Contrary to what I worried, I guess my reproductive factory is in full working order!

Its amazing. As a girl there are two days you fantasize about your whole life: your wedding day, and the day you meet your first baby. The past few months I have been "fantasizing" about the elusive second-line. I really never believed it could actually happen to me. It felt like something that always happened to other people. I felt the same way about my first kiss, graduating from high school and getting engaged. It was always such a shock to me when my turn finally came around.

I have to admit, one of my first thoughts after the bliss of the positive hpt had settled was "Crap. Now that there is something inside of me, its going to eventually have to come out...." As I pondered the meaning of that, I envisioned myself giving birth as charmingly as Kimberly Williams (Father of the Bride, part 2), Julianne Moore (Nine Months) and of course Jennifer Aniston as Rachel Green. It was a nice thought, but somehow I think my birthing experience will probably be more reminiscent of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre with me looking like Charlize Theron in Monster.

Of course Brian was thrilled, if a little in shock. He actually tried to hug me to commemorate the moment, while I paced back and forth muttering such profundities as "Holy shit!" Hopefully my kid will never ask me what I said when I first found out I was pregnant with him.

So here's to the next nine months of my life and the wild ride that will unfold!!