I'm Still Pregnant OR My Dwindling Faith in the Medical Community

Note: I wrote this post and then literally started having contractions about an hour later and never got the chance to make it live on the ol' blog. Since it was pretty much finished I decided to post it anyway, even though it's 3 weeks later. Deal with it.

Alright. I have to do a post on this waiting game we're playing with the impending newest addition to our family. I wasn't going to, because I probably complain too much. But I have to. Because this memoir is as much a documentation of our life journey, as it is a way for me to entertain myself in the evenings.

So my faith in the medical community continues to deteriorate at a rapid pace as we go through the continuing stages of this overdue baby ordeal. I'll utilize headers to break this up a bit for you...

The Due Date

I was essentially given two due dates. The first, the "mathematical" estimation of when the baby should be born, based on cycles and what-not, was August 4.

Ok.

The second due date, configured based on the measurements of the baby during my ultrasound was July 21.

Really all this change did was get a lot of people's hopes up, way too early in the game. As we got closer and closer to July 21 I was fairly certain there was no way she was being born anytime soon.

How I've Been Feeling

Really great until the last 10 days or so. Until a couple weekends ago I was feeling absolutely fantastic, and definitely did NOT feel like I should have delivered a baby by July 21.

Maybe this sounds weird, but I kept telling people when they asked that I didn't feel "bad enough yet" to have a baby. You know? Like, in the those last couple days and weeks of pregnancy all you want to do is sit, and that's actually the opposite of what you should be doing? And how in those last few days and weeks your body just aches and you have to kind of roll around to adjust yourself when you're sitting or need to get up.

And it's impossible to sleep because you have to wake up everytime you need to move, and then of course when you wake up you have to pee. And sometimes you wake up and don't need to move, you just have to pee, which basically translates into taking a series of 1-2 hour naps throughout the night.

And then your 2-year-old wakes you up at the butt crack of dawn, and then you have to go to work and you don't even know what day it is or if you are wearing a different shirt than the one you slept in and you completely disregard the office dress code for the millionth day in a row by wearing flip flops. 

And there are false alarms (during my first pregnancy I thought my water broke and we got all of our stuff together and went to hospital only to find out I had apparently peed myself...true story) and crampy gross feelings and occasional nausea and you can't eat very much because there's just no room, and your same sweet little 2-year-old decides his new favorite phrase is "Mama's HUUUGE" and I could go on and on.

My point is, when we reached that July 21 milestone, NONE of this was happening yet (except TJ calling me huge, that's been going on for some time), so that's what I meant when I told people I wasn't feeling "bad enough" to have a baby.

Guess what.

Now I am.

So that's a clear point for the August 4 due date, get your sh*t together medical professionals.

The Impending Threat of Being Induced

We went to our doctor's appointment Saturday morning, a regular check-up, which I had (admittedly) put off by 2 weeks for a few reasons...

#1. It's an ordeal to get to these on weekdays, as I basically have to take a freaking half-day off work to go, and Tom works on the weekends, so it's always a majah challenge.

#2. All the important stuff has been done for a while with the glucose testing and the bacteria testing and the ultrasound and what-not, and we're at the point where when I go to these appointments they're like, "Whelp, you're still pregnant, see you in a week." And I took a half-day off work for them to tell me that and DUH I already knew it.

#3. Two appointments ago when I went it was a paper skirt kind of appointment where I had to be "checked", and I sat on the exam table bare-assed with my lap covered in paper for an hour, AN HOUR, waiting for the midwife to take a look under the hood and tell me nothing was happening. I knew nothing was happening. So then the next time I went the same thing happened, only this time I put my big girl pants back on and left the doctor's office without being "checked" after waiting half-naked with nothing to read for 45 minutes. They must have remembered that I was a flight risk at this past Saturday's appointment, because Tom went out to hunt down the nurse after we had been waiting for 30 minutes to see why it was taking so long and they came in immediately and got down to business.

This past Saturday's appointment sucked, this is where we get to the...
 

Scary Inducing Stuff

Basically the midwife, we'll call her Butch, decided I needed a lecture and scolding for not having a clear due date, because it's apparently my fault. Then during my exam she decided she needed to jam her hand up there and feel the babys head through my dilated to ONE cervix (hi grandpa!), and then she got pretty testy when I emphatically told her that "YES, I know what it means, and NO, I do not want you to strip my membranes." But thanks for asking.

It really went downhill from there, as she told me we would have to do a non-stress test for the baby because according to my due date of July 21, which we had to abide by because of my irresponsibility, my placenta is now deteriorating rapidly and probably leaking, the baby is probably in distress and ingesting meconium, my fluid levels are probably really low and then she started throwing around the word "stillbirth."

Not. Even. Joking.

I mean, first of all - shut your stupid mouth, and second - hello, please go take a refresher course in bedside manner because you are unacceptable Butch, UNacceptable. And I pretty much hate you.

But Butch wasn't finished with us. The last thing she shared was that I needed to get induced. I needed to get the non-stress test as soon as possible on Monday and then when it came back as terrible, I needed to go straight up to Labor and Delivery and get induced immediately. Then she made it clear one more time that she was not pleased I wouldn't let her strip the membranes, and then she let us go.

Do you see why I'm not a huge fan of these people right now?

Needless to say, Tommy and I were both a bit shaken up when we left the appointment.

Until today, of course, when we both breathed a giant sigh of relief because guess what Butch, the non-stress test went great. Baby is great, heart rate is strong, placenta is great, fluid levels are better than great, my blood pressure is great, ultrasound looked great, and I feel crampy and terrible - so we know we're close to getting it done our way, with no stripped membranes or drug-induced labor.

Hazahh!

And So We Wait...

Apparently this unborn child is teaching me a lesson. I know what you're thinking, that it's a lesson in patience - but that's not even what I was going to say. I'm probably the most patient person you've ever encountered in your life -- stop laughing dad. For real though, I've got tons of the stuff, nothing fazes me.

I think this baby is teaching me a lesson in making other people wait...and THAT, I am notorious for. And she wants me to see how it feels, and know it's unacceptable for me to continue doing it, and that she will now be graciously assuming the crown for Queen of Making Others Wait for Seemingly No Good Reason so that I no longer have to be the rude one, but she will since she's tiny and cute and "doesn't know any better." So really, she's doing me a huge favor right now by not being born yet. And telling me she wants us to be a team.

See how I did that?

Really winning all over the place.

Except for with the length of this memoir post. Apparently I had a lot to say - shocker. And sorry there are no pictures. Nothing really fit the content on this one.

Except this photo...


Meet Butch.

So if that's the best I could do, I'm actually not sorry there are no pictures at all.

And The Waitee Has Become the Waiter...

Christa

An Open Letter to My Gestating Fetus (If That's a Real Way to Refer to You)

Tenant,

As of this moment, little unborn baby, you are hereby served an eviction notice. Please vacate the premises within 48 hours, or we will be forced to remove you.

Thanks.
The Management

Prepping for Pain Party Oh-12...Yes, I'm Going for Another Natural Childbirth

What. Who even does that? Elects to try for a double-dip after experiencing the agony of a natural childbirth the first time around?

Oh, this girl.

Bring it.

And by that I mean, please dear God let it be faster and less painful this time.

We're getting close over here people, and I'm just as pumped and excited for baby girl's arrival, as I am dreading it. (You can read our TJ birth story here.)

Super fresh, minutes-old baby TJ

The other day I was at lunch with some co-workers and one of them asked me what had even made me consider having a natural childbirth, so I thought I would share my thoughts with the four of you out there as well. And just so we are clear - I make absolutely no judgements here.

Labor sucks.

It hurts.

Bad.

Like, nuclear-bomb-went-off-in-my-abdomen-and-is-ripping-through-my-body-and-I-can-feel-it-in-my-teeth-and-legs-and-fingertips-and-hair-and-eyeballs-and-it's-not-going-away-and-I'm-probably-DYING bad.

Everyone makes their own choices for how they bring their children into this world and I do not begrudge anyone who chooses to beat the pain with medicinal support.

It's just not my preference.

In the beginning I decided I didn't want to use drugs during my labor because it honestly just doesn't make sense to me. It makes zero sense in my brain that for the nine months preceding childbirth I am not allowed to eat fish, or take medicine, or drink alcohol, or ingest unpasteurized food and drink, or pick up dog poop, and on and on, because doing so could possibly maybe have a chance of hurting the baby. BUT at the 11th hour - during labor - it's somehow ok for me to have anesthesia intraveneously administered while my baby is still inside and attached to me?

I don't get it.



How does that NOT get to the baby?

I'm not a doctor, and I'm not claiming to know anything about medical science, but if you're telling me it's not ok to take cold medicine while I'm pregnant, but I can have serious anesthesia administered during labor, I can't process that. I just don't get it.

Dadda supervising the APGAR proceedings. I took this picture!

So that was the genesis of my not wanting to use drugs during my labor...

And then I watched The Business of Being Born.

First of all, put your giant nips away.

And second, yikeserwhoayowza.

After watching this documentary hours upon hours of research ensued on my part, as my curiosity on the effects of anesthesia on the unborn, and then born, baby was piqued, and to be objectionably honest (personal feelings aside) it was pretty inconclusive. Studies have been done by both sides, those for the use of anesthesia, and those against. But from what I can tell it's a stalemate. They just continue to "disprove" one another's "conclusive evidence," and so the dance continues.

What really blew my mind, though, is that there are serious ANTI-natural childbirth folks out there. To the point of basically declaring war on groups like Lamaze, which is all about natural childbirth.

What?

But why?

To cut through the bullshit The way I understand it, the "PC" argument they pose here is that women should not endure the pain of childbirth, simply because they don't have to. These anti-naturals don't see the point in enduring that pain, when there are approved and effective drugs available to just disappear the pain away. "It's surgery." NBD.

Discovering this led me to do more research, as I forced myself to read every horror story personal diatribe I could find written by women who had had a natural childbirth, and what it was like, as well as stories from women who had used drugs, and what their experience had been like.

Neither side painted a real pretty picture of labor, which I was grateful for, because I wanted to know exactly what I was in for. And I'm not going to get into the "she said - she said" here, because anyone reading this is perfectly capable of doing their own reading (start here), and for me to share the particularly poignant stuff that resonated with me would certainly come off as preaching.

But I will say, without a doubt, I was far more disturbed at the terrible tales told by those women who had used drugs during their labor, than I was by the women who had not used drugs, and ended up with a negative childbirth experience.

For me, I think it's also that when you use the drugs, you essentially give up control. You put the decision-making power of your labor - the birth of your child - into another person's hands from the beginning. That doctor doesn't knooooow you, and doesn't know your baby, you have no idea what that person's intentions are or what preoccupations they may have that day - I feel it's probably wise to be at my witty best in this kind of situation, not potentially numb, sleepy, loopy, distracted, and/or sick.

Minutes after being born...Welcome to the World Little Man!

I'd like to start out with the power to make my own choices for my own child's birth, and if something happens and I have to relinquish that power for the safety and health of my child, then so be it.

So pregs out there - it's important to know your options, do the research, and decide what you want for the birth of your child. No one else can make the decisions for you. Be your own advocate. Be informed about things like epidurals and pitocin and what a low heart rate is for the baby during labor and dilation and scraping cells and the bag of waters.

Be in control. And most importantly BE INFORMED.

I choose to forgo the meds. I can take the pain, so I choose to take it - how can anyone have a problem with that? I don't recall anyone ever dying simply from pain, and I want to ensure I have the option of having the power and cognition to preside over how my baby is born, so that's where I'll start.

My first labor was 16 hours long, and the way I look at it that's 16 hours of my life, for potentially the entire rest of my baby's life, and that's totes worth a little bit of hellacious, teeth-gnashing agony.

After we walked (yes I walked) to our room.

And there you have it. My feelings on natural childbirth, why it's my choice and why it's very important to me. 

One last thought I reflect on constantly that helps me keep everything in perspective...

When I was prepping for T's birth I read a passage somewhere, written by someone a lot smarter than me (how's that for citing a source?) that essentially said, there is no time in a human beings life where they are more fragile or compromised than when they are being born.

That thought helps me keep my preferences and ideals in check, and keep the health of the baby first and foremost in my brain. If I end up having to get an unplanned emergency c-section so my baby is born safely and as healthily as possible, so be it, I'm down. But I'd like to try to experience the single most incredible, empowering and proud moment of my life one more time - to birth my baby naturally, without the synthetic assistance of medicinal substances.

First family photo, home sweet home with our 24-hours old little bundle.

Good luck out there pregs.

With that, I bid you (and this behemoth post) adieu...

Christa

I've Made My Decision, And the Winner Is...

<Cue angels singing gloriously from the heavens>

The Sony NEX-5N with the E 3.5-5.6/18-55 OSS lens package.

This. Is the camera I want.

And it only took me like 2 years to pick one!

Me for the past two years: "I really want a nice camera. Like a really good one that's easy to use but that will take amazing photos of our kids."

Tom: "Ok, which one do you want?"

Me: "I don't knooooowwww, I just want to take the pictures."

After eons of extensive research on my own (which yielded nothing because I know zero about cameras), we went into a camera store the other day and the lady behind the counter gave me a demo on four different cams. Three DSLR's and then this beauty.

This Sony was far and away my favorite. It has everything I want, like creative photo settings, it's great in low light, the body is small and compact, it takes HD video, you can take panoramic photos, and MORE!

I am reminded right now of shopping with my dad when I was growing up.

Me at age 4 to ...well, present: "Dad I really want <insert item here>!"

Dad: "Oh yeah, that's really nice, yep, looks great! Let me show you how to make that happen."

And then he would do this...

And then I would hold my breath until I got my way.

BAH! Just kidding, I never did that once. No way Mike McElyea would stand for that nonsense. "Whelp, save your money!" really was always his response when we asked for big ticket items growing up, though.

Oh yeah, in an unrelated reminder...I do have a birthday coming up (August 31) just in case anyone forgot. Aaaaaand, also totally unrelated, but come to think of it, I am going to give birth to a child soon, soooo, in some circles that is often cause for celebration, which certainly could include the bestowing of expensive trinkets.

But what am I saying, this post is about a camera - I don't even know what made me think of that baby and birthday stuff (August 31).

One last unrelated thing: I am available for product testing and reviews. So if anyone from, I don't know, Sony?, is reading this...juuuust throwing that out there.

Happy Camtastic Photo Phriday Phriends!
Christa

Really Face All-Star #2 - The NURSE on the Train

I don't really keep it a secret that I think the people in the city of Chicago are heinous for one main egregious act that takes place constantly...

No one gives up their seat on the train for the giant pregos!

The bus? Sure, sometimes. Bus riders are nicer.

But the train? Nevah.

Apparently it's perfectly socially acceptable amongst Chicagoans to not get off your duff and offer your seat to the giant 9 months pregnant girl that just walked on the train. I have never, not once, been offered a seat on the train. I am nine months preg here people, and I ride the train 3-5 times a week. That thing shimmies, lurches and shakes like crazy - it sucks!

You reached a new low today, though, Chicago.

Today.

I got on the train.

Stood directly in front of a seated NURSE, with my giant belly right in her face.

And she did nothing.

Well, that's not true. She scowled at me for invading her personal space, but HELLO, I'M HUGE. Then she went right back to reading her preferred digital book device.

I mean, REALLY?!

And no, there was no way this lady herself was pregs. She was like mid-to-late-40's old.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of other people (DUDES? Hello?!) seated on the train who were certainly capable of offering me their seat, and failed to do so. But I'm used to it from them, that's commonplace everyday lame Chicagoan BS.

But a NURSE?!

(Her nametage had her name with "RN, BSN" underneath it - so don't even think I mis-identified a punk candy striper.)

"Oh, but Christa, maybe she had just gotten off work from an overnight shift." Nope. She was definitely on her way to Rush.

Alright, alright, maybe I'm being a little harsh on the nurse. Maybe she had edema or something...but she was on her way to work where she stands and walks constantly, so she couldn't have been feeling tooooo bad. She is definitely the target of several months of pent-up frustration to this topic.

But, no matter, with that I present you, oblivious-terrible-bedside-mannered-nurse-lameo-on-the-train with THIS well-deserved honor...

And I hope you sat in something gross.

Safe travels in Chicago my fellow pregs,

Christa

First Time Mom vs. Veteran Mom

I have noticed a lot of differences in my attitude and preparations as we ready the Parr household for our latest Baby-palooza adventure.

For example:

...I don't have 14 lists of things to buy and things to do

...I'm not obsessed with reading the baby websites, emails and newsletters for hours a day

...I'm really not concerned with having the "newest" and "best" products

...I have yet to purchase a single stitch of clothing for this new baby

Don't get me wrong, some preparations have been made - we got a hand-me-down crib (fo free!) from one of my co-workers who was moving (and it's really nice, so that was a score!), my aunt found a used $80 Jeep double jogging stroller a friend of hers was selling and picked that up for us, and Ken and Connie are passing their "Goat Watch Oh-12" barn video monitor to us after they are done using it. So there are some wheels in motion. But honestly, as long as we have 3 things when we bring the baby home, we will be all set...

1. Our Pack-and-Play (it's blue, but I don't care, it will do)
2. Some diapers (we could really pick these up on the way home from the hospital)
3. Me

You know what I have been doing a lot more of this time around, though?

Nesting.

I am an organizing fool these days. After having experienced the inexplicable chaos that ensues upon bring home a fresh shiny baby, what I want more than anything is to make sure all of our systems are in place.

I don't want the bills and mail to be piled up in any capacity.
I don't want a house full of laundry.
I don't want dog hair everywhere.
I don't want clothes that need to be put away.
I don't want dishes in the sink.

And it makes apparently perfect sense in my brain to make sure all of these things are done every single day from now until the baby arrives.

This reminds me - I should probably register so my work baby shower doesn't get me something totally random. And I need to learn how to make cute bows for baby girl to wear, because as it stands she will be wearing a LOT of blue.

...And Now This is Happening.

Remember the last time I blogged sometimes? Sure you do. The year was 2010, and I started this blog (memoir from here on out - blog is disgusting) called Stockon's Gonna Be a Big Brother to keep family and friends informed and mildly entertained as TP and I prepared to join the brotherhood of first-time parentdom.

Whelp, in spite of my best intentions I let the blog (memoir) fall by the wayside after our firstborn, and heir to our vast fortune, made his appearance. Sorry about that, but in my defense, I was a tid-bit busy with a shiny new baby, a full-time job, and a less-than-ideal house situation. Specifically, we were living in a one-bedroom home with no dishwasher and no washer/dryer. Unfortunately, this is no joke. When I think back to those days, I can only laugh. What stupid idiots we were! I was a sleepy-eyed weirdo with crazy hair, no make-up and deoderant on the front of her wrinkly, Febrezed shirt with ZERO time or energy to write things down in a cohesive and organized manner that anyone in their right mind would care to read.

But we're in the zone now! What a difference a washing machine makes, and boy do we have a LOT of great stories to tell.

And what better reason to get back on the blog (memoir) train than that we are expecting once again!

Yep. That's me six days ago. We are 23 weeks along and growing. Not to be confused with glowing, because for those of you who have never had a baby - that "glow" is nothing more than oily sweat slick all over your face. And now you know - you're welcome. But as my face gets shinier, so does my hair, so that's a plus.

To be clear, I don't intend for this to be a mommybabyparentsblah blog (memoir), per se, though. I have a vast amount of knowledge to share, and several really important things to say that the entire world needs to know. No one should be spared the wonder that is Christa, so stop in often...and be dazzled. And for those of you who think I'm serious, please hold up your left hand, smack yourself in the face with it, and continue reading.

So since we're already talking about babies, we found out our little one's gender yesterday. Wanna guess what it is? I'll give you a clue...actually, here are 11 clues. 50/50 shot, good luck.

          

         

         

       

Tip of your life: Never do a Google Image search for "pigtails" when you are preparing to bring a sweet, innocent baby girl into the world. Trust.

Welcome back to my memoirs...let's do this!

Tasty Treats and Lessons Learned

After a short hiatus from the blog, I'm BACK, and have exciting stories to share! Actually, no, I take that back. Not exciting. Just stories. Absolutely nothing particularly exciting.

Oh my. Except I literally JUST sat back down (the babies needed their dinner) and popped my very first ever Pretzel M&M into my mouth (yes, FB friends I finally found them!)...and yummmm...I'll be enjoying them with a cold glass of milk for the duration of this blog post. Don't worry, I have two bags in case it turns into a long one. :)

So why have I been away so long, you ask? Our July doctor appointment, as they say, rubbed me the wrong way. I was slightly mad and disappointed and didn't want to talk about it and have been on a blog strike, of sorts, for the past few weeks. "But Christa, what happened?" Well, as you may have read we were told by our sonographer that we had a huge baby and there was no way it could be due in September, unless I was incubating a freakishly gargantuan child. We made the mistake of getting excited about this news and were convinced the baby would be born 4 weeks earlier than originally thought.

Our NP set us straight at our July appointment.

Well, kind of.

She was barely there.

Tommy and I headed into our July doctor appointment bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, fully expecting to hear my due date was being moved up four weeks and all of our baby-birthing schedule debacles were soon to be over. The appointment was a joke from the start. The check-in nurse skipped the blood pressure and weight portion of the activities and went straight to scheduling my next appointment (which they usually do after the current appointment.) On the way to the exam room I asked her about seeing how much I weigh (I hate having a scale at home, but am still OCD about monitoring my progress) to which she replied, "Oh yeah..." After we completed the formalities she led me to the exam room (I weighed in at 152, by the way...still 9 pounds away from the gain-limit of 30 I set for myself) brought Tom in immediately and the NP (nurse practitioner) breezed in, talked to us for approximately four minutes, and breezed out.

Tom: "Wait, was that it?"
Me: "Uhhh, I guess so..."
Tom: "What was the point?"
Me: "I have no idea."

Luckily the NP came back in because she forgot to tell us something, and Tommy spoke up about the renegade due date, and we asked to see the ultrasound photos. "Oh...ok...sure...we can look at those." And she basically refused to address the due date change issue, informing us it was too late, and we would have to let it ride. The ultrasound photos wouldn't open on her computer, so that was that. Appointment over. Sweet. Thanks. Catch ya on the flip side Kaiser Permanente healthcare-cattle-call-a$$holes.

After some thought I discovered the reason they were weird and distant and why our NP was unwilling to discuss things. Our appointment was at 11:45, which was a huge mistake because it was the last appointment before they shut down the Women's Health wing for lunch from 12-1. "Did you say shut down?" Yes. They shut the whole thing down. Turn off the lights and everything. The sign on the check-in counter doesn't say "Out to Lunch" it says "GO AWAY."

Okay. So the appointment wasn't really that bad. It's not like they yelled at us. Or laughed at us. Or kicked us out. I basically just didn't get my way. My way being that NP would have agreed with the sonographer, moved my due date up, and baby Parr would have been born...well, now. But it doesn't work that way. And I hate it when things don't just work my way.

But I'm way over it now, and that brings us to today! We had a fantastic appointment today! The baby is going strong and still growing (and so am I...gained 6 pounds in the last 4 weeks...oops...only 3 to go before I reach the limit...fortunately I can't eat too much these days as a result of the large fetal growth currently residing in my abdomen, preventing my stomach from expanding, so we should be good.) It was an exam day...ya know, the kind where you walk in the room and the nurse hands you the paper skirt to wear. Turns out I'm not dilated at all, have started to efface, and the baby is starting to drop. So we're looking good for 36 weeks! I've officially made it to the point in my pregnancy where they'll deliver me if I go into labor. And Tommy and I have reached the point where we get to...(trumpet fanfare)...pack "the bag"! I'm sure that will be a blog in and of itself when we get around to the packing...we already have quite a list of things to pack going.

So I guess that's all for today. I ran out of Pretzel M&M's some time ago (Tommy ate the second bag) and have rambled enough for one day. The morals today kids...when the sonographer tells you something, don't believe them, and never forget that just because they change your due date doesn't mean the baby will actually be born any earlier. I promise it will not be 6 weeks before you hear from me again.

And with that, dear friends, I bid you adieu.

And good evening.

CP

Pee Cup, World Cup and a 14-Pound Baby

Who's having a 14-pound baby?! Well, apparently I am. We went in for our ultrasound last week, and my NP's (that's an abbrev for Nurse Practitioner...and yes, I just abbreviated the word abbreviate) suspicions were confirmed - I am actually further along with little Pele Parr than originally thought. How much further along is still a mystery, as I will not get a new due date until we have our next appointment on July 6, but according to the ultrasound I am a solid four weeks ahead of where we thought. So if that projection stands at the doctors appointment it will mean that tomorrow I will not reach the 30 week mark, but actually week 34...WOWSERS!! So now that I've ruined the build-up by outing the juicy detail of this blog post, let's have the story about the ultrasound itself...which is still pretty entertaining, even given the outed climax.

Prior to the ultrasound I was given a sheet of explicit instructions which outlined exactly what I was to do to prepare...which was basically drink a ton of water and then not pee for 2 hours before even arriving at the doctors office. I am a rule-follower when it comes to these sorts of matters, and a relentless detail freak when it comes to any sorts of matters, so I followed the instructions to the T. And have never in my life been in such urinary distress. Walking was difficult, as was sitting, and let's not even get into how much it hurt to laugh (Michelle and Tomas were present for the festivities, so not laughing was an impossible expectation.) Factor in a baby bouncing on my bladder like a trampoline, and you get a clear picture of what I was dealing with. No, I did not end up peeing my pants, but I definitely did lay down on the floor to relieve the pressure on my bladder, and when the sonographer came to get us she told me to just go. So I did. No, not on the floor, in the bathroom. And almost begrudgingly...all of that for nothing?! We found out later that having a full bladder for the ultrasound is good for the sonographer because the more liquid that's in there the more they can see. Apparently I still had plenty in there because she could see everything just fine.

Which brings us to the ultrasound itself, and as much as it makes me laugh that every single parent talks about their child as though they are the smartest, most advanced, sevant-likely kid in the universe, I have to say...we have a perfect little baby cookin in there! :) Baby's brain and spine are perfectly formed, all organs are in their place and thriving, there's fluid where it's supposed to be, and no fluid where it's not supposed to be...Hmm, what else? No gestational diabetes, no cleft lip, appendages, bones and joints are all looking good and there are no markers for spina bifida, anencephaly or down syndrome. The baby has already turned so it will come out head first, and is also already facing the right way, so we're looking good and highly optimistic to welcome a healthy, thriving little one! Of course nothing is ever 100% until D-Day (that's what I call baby's birthday...get it, "D" is short for "Delivery"? I rule) but, like I said, we are optimistic.

To get to the issue of the baby measuring big the sonographer basically told me that if my original due date of September 2 is correct, then I'll be giving birth to a 14-pound child. Pass. Not sure how that 14-pound child would plan on getting out of my belly. I'll be happy to sire an anomaly, but let's have it do something cool like be born singing instead of crying...not just be huge. It's pretty crazy to think that we may have just fast-forwarded this whole song and dance four weeks!</i> That would mean that everything throughtout my pregnancy has actually happened four weeks later than we thought...I was 2 months prego at Christmas, I felt the baby kick for the first time at 20 weeks - not 16, I didn't start showing until 25 weeks - not 21 like we thought...this is insane! But there is certainly an upside, if D-Day is four weeks earlier than originally thought we should have a babe in arms at least a week before Tommy heads to Roc for Dan and Allison's wedding - and that will be a huge relief! No pressure on the trip, no worrying about whether or not the huge pregnant girl is going into labor, everyone will be able to enjoy themselves, and maybe even strategically set up a webcam so I can say hi at some point during the weekend. Maybe that can even be my wedding present...not being pregnant during the nuptials :)

Oh! Speaking of nuptials, Tommy and I will celebrate our 1-year anniversary on Saturday! Fortunately for us we will never, ever forget when our anniversary is, as it is the day after Michael Jackson passed away. As tragic and terrible and blah blah blah as that is, I gotta be honest, it's a pretty reliable marker. We're planning a pretty low-key day...well, as low-key as watching USA play in the World Cup with Thomas Alfred Parr can be, that is. Which brings us to World Cup Soccer. Today the US defeated Algeria to move on to the elimination round of 16 in the World Cup, and I have never before in my life seen a man literally experience hysterics before today. It was a simply fantastic game, that even now, 16 hours later, inspires comments of "I still can't believe that game" in various forms from my husband as he sits in his Pop-Pop chair and plays FIFA on 360. I'm not exaggerating when I say he was laughing and crying at the same time for a good 10 minutes after Donovan scored the win goal in today's game. Landon Donovan is pretty good, I guess, but I choose to credit the win to the USA windsock, red, white and blue paper lanterns, and American flag banners hanging in our living room. True patriots over here. True.

And on that note, I shall retire from this unusually long blog entry and attempt to put together our baby stroller. My wonderfully creative madre is throwing a "virtual baby shower" for us on Saturday (which will be another part of our low-key anniversary day) over Skype. We've been receiving gifts for the last several weeks off of our registry from the fam and Saturday we'll show them all off to everyone over Skype as they gather at my parents house for a party in our honor. Just because we aren't there doesn't mean they can't get together to celebrate, right? Right! So in the meantime we have plenty of little projects to keep busy with in the evening to prepare for said shower. And with that, I bid you adieu. Go American Sports!

A couple of pics for the road, from Ultrasound Day...

It's hard to smile, I have to pee!


Taking pictures of my torture


Trying to relieve the pressure...Mich made sure the caution sign was in place so no one stepped on me. We were the only people in the room, but still.

The Scare

So, I've gotten some questions/inquiries regarding the "scare" I referred to in my last blog that took us to Labor and Delivery a few weeks ago. Not to dimish the necessity for "being careful" or the potential terribleness that can take place during pregnancy, but it really wasn't a big deal. So let's have the story...

I was at work preparing for a game, Tom was at the ballpark too, and I "spotted" a bit, as they call it, which was immediately followed by further abonormal...stuff...and I can't go into more detail than that because bodily fluids skeeze me out. "But Christa, you live with Tom Parr, King of Gross Things and Bodily Excretions," yes, yes I do. And because of this I am near my daily quota for talk of things that exit ones body - in whatever form they come, be it liquid, solid or gas, and hereby give my word that no further graphic detail regarding "the scare" will be given.

Back to the story...Kaiser (our insurance provider) has a 24-hour advice line, so after about 2 minutes of internal detate I figured I should call if there was any question in my mind at all. After answering their battery of questions the head Nurse Practitioner in L&D (that's code for Labor and Delivery) said she wanted to see me, and it would be best if I came right in. "But don't panic," she told me.

Alrighty, then.

So, not panicking, I told my boss (one hour before a game, gates were open and people were arriving at the ballpark) that I needed to go and I was taking the P.A. Announcer with me. I went to the press box and, not panicking, I told Tommy we needed to go, arrangements were made in about 20 seconds for us to do so seamlessly, and we headed to the hospital. Upon arrival I was forced to ride in a wheelchair (the whole time hearing my brother in my head saying, "What are you?...Handicapped?" because I didn't think I needed the chair), we check in to L&D where they promptly collected my information for billing purposes (capitalism at its finest), and then we headed into the exam room after I changed into a stylish tie-front mumu and hospital-provided cozy socks with rubber treads on the bottom. I'm quite proud to say Tommy and I remained calm and collected throughout the whole ordeal. I was hooked up to a baby heart monitor, which registered the babies heart rate and allowed us to hear the sweet sweet sound of the heartbeat loud and clear. The NP felt my belly ("Oh, it's still soft, that's good.") And asked if I was having contractions. "They'll feel like menstrual cramps," she told me. "I've never had a menstrual cramp," I replied. She just looked at me, to which I said, "I have no idea what I'm in for, huh." She just smiled and shook her head.

The doctor eventually found us (we were about to take bets on whether or not he got lost)and after a short, but make no mistake, thorough, exam he pronounced everything to be perfectly fine. "Wierd stuff happens sometimes," he told us. The main concern would have been that there were ruptured membranes, which is fancy doctor-speak for saying my water had broken. But it didn't - all membranes were intact and everything was as it should be. So, I begrudgingly (sense the sarcasm) changed out of my mumu and tire socks, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, and went home.

So that's the story for all who wanted to hear - and for those who didn't, well, you just got to know me a little better on the "I'm-not-sure-I-can-look-you-in-the-eye-the-next-time-I-see-you" level. We have had no issues since, everything has been fabulous - not even anything I would consider calling the advice line about. I took the day off after "the scare" and have been careful to rest plenty ever since. Okay. Tommy still tells me to slow down and refuses to let me do work sometimes, but I'm getting better at restraining myself. That's all for now, more to come. Stockton rules.

Pendulum? Anybody?

Ah! The blog has been out of commish for a few weeks, my apologies! No excuse, really – just your usual busy at work, occupied at home, sleepy a lot, kinda stuff. Much has happened in the last few weeks, plenty to blog about…where do we begin?! How about I spend this week playing catch-up and blogging about the happenings of the past few weeks, and today we talk about yesterday’s doctor appointment and have some fun, okay? Okay!

Well, we had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and it went flawlessly! My labs were perfect – we are gestational diabetes free, and there was no protein or iron surplus where it shouldn’t be. Also, no suspicion of birth defects, disease or other sort of deficiency based on my blood work and tests, so we are sitting pretty right now! Which brings us to how the baby is sitting, and he’s apparently a bit of a low rider. Not in a bad way, I’m just carrying low and all in front. I took pictures the other day and I still have a “case of the disappearing baby” when you look at me from the side (huge belly), then look at me from the front (she can’t be prego, I still see a waist!). Apparently I’m measuring very big for 27 weeks, as well, which is an issue that will be explored in detail when we go in for our ultrasound next week. Which brings us to the ultrasound issues…grrr. I was supposed to have one at 21-23 weeks but was unable to schedule it due to the supreme incompetence of the radiology department at Kaiser Permanente. Doc was highly displeased yesterday upon hearing I had not yet gotten the ultrasound, threw her weight around a little bit with radiology and POOF! we have an appointment way sooner than the 6 weeks they were trying to make me wait. And this 6 week wait would have started now, and was after they were not smart enough to find the three orders placed for me by two doctors to have the ultrasound. Get your sh*t together radiology, you’re not impressing anyone.

So I guess that’s about it for the doctor’s appointment update. It was short, sweet, and to the point. I had only gained five pounds in the last 6 weeks (doctors orders, she told me to slow down haha), bringing our total weight gain to 19 pounds – and it’s seriously all in my belly. Since I am measuring big the doctor wants to see me again in four weeks instead of six so she can investigate the ultrasound findings and measurements and determine for sure if I have the correct due date. I tend to think I’ve been “diagnosed” with the correct due date, and am just carrying a big, healthy baby! We are still pretty determined not to find out the sex of the baby when we go in for the ultrasound, but I did happen upon a delightful little article in one of the 15 online baby newsletters sent to my email everyday that went through like 20 different Old Wives Tales that are supposed to tell whether you’re having a boy or girl. Here’s what they had to say, and there really are like 20…

Old Wives Tale Test #1
If you prefer sleeping on your right side, it’s a girl. If you prefer the left, you’re having a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’m a right-side sleeper until my hip hurts bad enough to wake me up, at which time I roll over.

Old Wives Tale Test #2
Extreme nausea means you are having a girl.
Implication: Boy. I never had one instance of extreme nausea, or any nausea, for that matter. I bested you this time, morning sickness!

Old Wives Tale Test #3
If your hands are dry during pregnancy, expect a boy. If they are soft, you’re having a girl.
Implication: Girl. I’ve always had soft, callous-free hands, no matter how many weights I’ve lifted or manual labor tasks I’ve completed. I put very little faith in the accuracy of this one.

Old Wives Tale #4
If you’re craving citrus while pregnant, you’re having a girl.
Implication: Girl. Haha, this made me laugh because citrus has been the only consistent craving I’ve had! There have been fleeting cravings for cornbread, candy, cereal and pancakes, but CITRUS has been my mistress (mister? What do you even call that if you’re a lady?) since day one! First it was an insatiable craving for oranges, orange juice, orange popsicles, orange tictacs – basically if it was made of oranges or tasted like oranges I wanted it all the time. Now it’s Sprite. Mmmm, I love that citrus flavor. Tommy doesn’t even ask me what I want when he goes to the store. Just comes back with Sprite So if this Old Wives Tale holds any water, it’s a girl.


Old Wives Tale #5
If altering hormones make your skin break out, expect a girl.
Implication: Boy. My skin looks better than it has in like 3 years. Living in Florida with the humidity and grossness took a huge toll and last year was probably the worst my skin has ever been in all of my 28 years. Apparently my blemish cure is pregnancy. Oof.

Old Wives Tale #6
If you feel as if you’re gliding through the day, it’s a girl. Feel like you’re stumbling around and clumsy? It’s a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’m still wearing my 4 inch heels at every possible opportunity, and am still my coordinated, easy breezy self. I will now thank my mother for instilling an urgency to have excellent posture at all times, as my posture has likely aided immensely in the balance issues I’m sure my body is currently facing with 20 pounds stacked onto the front.

Old Wives Tale #7
If your face gets fuller it means you’re having a girl.
Implication: Boy. And it’s weird because when I gain weight it always happens in my face first, and the arms are always close behind. Neither face nor arms has suffered any extra padding so far.

Old Wives Tale #8
Craving salt during pregnancy means a boy is on the way. Needing a little something sweet means it’s a girl.
Implication: Girl. I don’t think I’ve craved one salty thing.

Old Wives Tale #9
If you’re experiencing pregnant mood swings, expect a girl to arrive soon.
Implication: Boy. No real impressive outbursts to speak of. Maybe don’t ask Tom about his one, haha.

Old Wives Tale #10
If you’re carrying the baby low it’s a boy. If your bump is high, it’s a girl.
Implication: Boy. As previously discussed, I’m carrying really low. If this Old Wives Tale holds any water, it’s definitely a boy.

Old Wives Tale #11
If you’re carrying baby in front, it’s a boy. If the baby weight is spaced all around your middle, it’s a girl.
Implication: Boy. Once again, baby is just all sorts of out in front. I can’t put my make up on or do my hair in the bathroom without knocking 14 things off the sink with my belly.

Old Wives Tale #12
Swing a pendulum around your middle. If it swings back and forth it’s a boy, if it circles it’s a girl.
Implication: Too lazy to find out. This sounds like a lot of work. And who even owns a pendulum.

Old Wives Tale #13
If someone asks to see your hands and you display them palm up, it’s a girl. If you show them palms down, it’s a boy.
Implication: ?. Mmmmkay, what? This one gets the Really face. Who would ask to see my hands? That’s like something you ask a three-year-old when you know they’ve taken something and it’s in their hand, but they insist they didn’t take it. Pass.

Old Wives Tale #14
If a toddler boy shows interest in your belly, you’re having a girl. If he ignores you, it’s a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’ve been working in the merch store during our games now (air conditioned and I can sit down, yessss) and there have actually been two little toddler boys in the store who have shown interest in my belly. Yeesh, scram boys. She’s not even out of the womb yet!

Old Wives Tale #15
Eat garlic. If the scent seeps out of your pores it’s a boy. If you keep smelling sweet, it’s a girl.
Implication: Girl. I always smell sweet.

Old Wives Tale #16
If you pick up a key by the round end your baby is a girl. If you pick it up by the long end expect a boy.
Implication: No idea. This is on the same level as the “show me your hands” mistake they made on this list. What if you pick up the key in the middle? The Old Wives might need to be referred to as Old Bags from now on.

Old Wives Tale #17
If your age and year of conception are both even or odd, it’s a girl. If one is odd and the other is even you’re having a boy.
Implication: Boy. I’m 28 and the year of conception was 2009. Interesting.

Old Wives Tale #18
If your baby’s heart beats more than 150 times per minute, it’s a girl. Less than 150 you’ll have a boy.
Implication: Inconclusive. When we were in Labor and Delivery during my little scare a couple weeks ago the babies average heartbeat was literally 150. It was as high as 162 and as low as 136, but was consistently between 147 and 153. Not even joking.

Old Wives Tale #19
A child tends to be the same sex as the parent who was less stressed at the time of conception.
Implication: Could go either way. Our stress levels are usually about the same, I think. And who remembers how stressed they were last November?

Old Wives Tale #20
If you dream about having a girl while pregnant you will end up with a boy, and vice versa.
Implication: Girl. My dreams about babies are few and far between, but the ones I remember have included having a boy. And in one dream he was born fully dressed like Mr. Peanut – monocle, cane, top hat and all. I think I forgot to tell Tomas about that one. It was pretty funny. Wonder what that means…

Final Score
Old Wives Votes for Boy: 7
Old Wives Votes for Girl: 8
Seriously? Haha, the Old Wives are pretty split. Somebody find me a pendulum, stat.

The Case of the Disappearing Baby...


Wait! Where'd it go?

Holy Pregnant Christmas Ornament Batman!

Last night was Superhero Night at the ballpark, and oh what a night! I love, love, LOVE dress up nights, and was in costume as Batman's trusty sidekick Robin. It was a moderately hilarious evening, read on for the play-by-play and some snaps of the occasion...

So we got our costumes and my Robin outfit looked like it should fit a four-year-old. And no, I'm not just saying that because I've put on a few LB's recently, it really was, like, the "adult store" version of a Robin costume. I compensated by wearing black leggings and black long-sleeved Under Armour underneath, as I was not particularly interested in showing off the goodies to the thousands of families, children and inebriated individuals at John Thurman Field. The material of the costume was basically stretchy, colored foil, was ridiculously tight, and my hair was almost longer than the tiny little cape. Who can fly with a cape that small? I know, I know, Batman and Robin don't fly...but still. Then, I went to put on the mask for the costume, and, in staying with the "should fit a four-year-old" theme, it basically cut off the circulation to my face and was so tight my eyes wouldn't open...in short, hilarious looking, and I have a small head! So after a last-ditch effort to try and inconspicuously tape the mask to my face, I scrapped it. Let them know my identity. I made a pretty kick-ass superhero anyway.

I sang the National Anthem before the game and Tommy introduced me on the P.A. as "The very lovely and very pregnant, Robin." The baby kicked like craaaazy while I sang the Anthem, which was cool, and he went nutso with the ninja moves again later during the post-game fireworks. Overall the night was very fun, lots of strangers rubbed my belly and when I would get weird looks from people or if someone would ask, "are you pregnant?" I'd rub the buddah and say "noooo, I just eat the villains." Duh. One of our season ticket holders told me I looked like a pretty little Christmas ornament...uhhh...thank you? I think people were pretty surprised I dressed up in costume with my belly all akimbo - you can't say I'm not a good sport! I thought it was hilarious.

Check out some pics from the evening, and don't even think about judging me next to the PYT's on our promo staff with their tight little tummies :)

Robin, Supergirl and Batgirl...don't you love how the costume just kind of slopes to my belly, haha, it looks like a beer gut!



I think the belt really did a lot to cover the baby bump. Not.



Robin and Mrs. Incredible...Did you know the Incredibles real last name is Parr? Tommy wanted me to be Mrs. Incredible, but I refused unless he dressed up as my Mr., which he, in turn, refused. Sooo.... :)



Our crew minus Mrs. Incredible and Wonder Woman...they were apparently off fighting crime.

Only God and the Nurse Practitioner Know

We had a doctor's appointment last week on Friday, and to our surprise we got to see the baby! First sonogram in the books, and for the record our child is very squirmy. The nurse practitioner (who is very quirky and odd...so of course we love her) got very frustrated because little bebe Parr was moving around so much. This kid is gonna be a handful.

So to give the official report, all's well in-utero. The baby is growing normally, and all of his internal organs are in the right place. Heartbeat was normal (FAST!) and bones and skull were looking good. We saw brains too! And the face! It looked like Pele has received my unfortunate nose gene, instead of Tommy's cute little petite one, but ya can't win em all I guess...I haven't done too bad in spite of my olfactory inheritance, so I'm sure the bambino will still be pretty :) What else...the fetal femur measurement was 3.6 centimeters and the baby weighs almost a pound!

Speaking of weight, I've gained 13 pounds in the first half of my pregnancy, bringing the LB total to 144 - officially the most I've ever weighed in at. It's worth it, and honestly I don't feel like I've gained that much. So here's hoping my 5'7 frame can stand up to the 15-20 pounds yet to come, and still bounce back on the other side!

Apparently this sonogram was just a "dress rehearsal" for the "real" one we have to make a special appointment for in the radiology department. I guess the "real" one is more in-depth and takes a whole slew of measurements of different areas and stuff. And if we want to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl the NP said we would be able to because she could tell on the "unofficial" sonogram. So yes, ladies and gents, there is one person in the world (besides God) who knows the gender of our baby! And it's not meeee!

So I leave you with a few pictures of my belly growth over the past few weeks. It's like the baby bump just jumped out one day and decided to make itself known. Two season ticket holders at the ballpark told me I had finally "blossomed." Ew. Save your blossoming proclamations, ladies, it sounds gross. The good news is: I still have some semblance of a waist!

Yes that's a pug shirt :) I even had it before I became Stockton's mom!


And the side view...


This shirt was a good pick-up!


I still have a bit of a waist...


But not so much from this angle...21 weeks to the day here.

We Are Registered...Done and Done

So we're all registered for Baby Parr, and everyone out there in blogland can visit the registries and buy us stuff. I mean, I'll just put it out there, that's why people register, right? So other people will buy them stuff? Hopefully it goes without saying that any and every gift received will be immensely appreciated, more than you could ever know. Especially being so far away from everyone.

Where are we registered, you ask? Target, and an all-organic online registry called Eden Home. "Organic, eh?" Well, sure. If it were economically feasible we would do the all-organic thing, "go green," if you will, on everything from toys to clothes to diapers to food. But we're realistic and know ourselves too well to believe we would or could keep up with that. But! We feel like we can make a commitment to some organic basics, which is what we registered for on Eden Home. It's actually a very cool site. Sooo much good stuff, not just for babies, but for everyone and everything. Maybe by next time (did I really just say that?) we'll be able to have a green baby. Something to shoot for!

Aside from the organic wildcard the rest of what we registered for is pretty standard. The Target registry covers everything and has a very wide variety of price points. A few of the items are somewhat "wishlist" related (do I need a jogging stroller? No. But I really want one to pick back up with the marathon training that was in the works when we found out about el bebe. So, two strollers :))

I'll tell you what you won't find on the registry, and that's anything involving breast pumping. Who puts that on a registry? Gross. I don't want breast pump refill bags to be a gift option, so no breast pump apparati are present. There also aren't a lot of clothes on there. There are some clothes, for both genders, mostly basics like sleepers, but since we have decided to be delightfully surprised by the girl/boyness of our baby, a few items are pretty much all we're gonna have on hand until the baby is born. Of course there will be "coming home" outfits handy, and plenty of feathery hairbows (there's a lady in Modesto who makes them and sells them on Craigslist - KLONDIKE!) but I wanna pick those out myself, and it'll be easy to save receipts. Except for with hairbow lady products - she probably has a no-return policy. In which case I'll wear them myself if the baby has boy parts.

So feel free to peruse the registries! Email me with questions - christaparr@hotmail.com. I'm not gonna post our address on here in an effort to prevent creeptastic stalker scenarios. You are more than welcome, and invited to send stuff to the baseball field (quite possibly more reliable than sending anything to our house) and here's that address:

Modesto Nuts Professional Baseball Club
ATTN: Christa Parr
601 Neece Drive
Modesto, CA 95351

Thank you, and good night :)

Link to Target Registry:
Tommy and Christa Parr's Baby Registry

Link to Eden Home Registry, search "Christa Parr":
Eden Home Registry, Search for Registry

It's Moving Day, It's Moving Day, Hey Baby, Hey

FYI: If you know what TV show that title quote is from it means you're awesome.

Sooo, it's moving day! FINALLY! We have a house! It's a perfect little one-bedroom bungalow, complete with humongous living room picture window, tons of storage for our mounds and mounds of stuff, a fireplace, TWO closets in the bedroom, a nice sized kitchen for Tommy to cook in and a delightful little nook perfect for the baby's room. We're beyond excited to have gotten the place, after finding it while driving randomly in our favorite part of town one Saturday afternoon. By the time Tommy articulated the words "baby get your phone out and call that number," I was already on the phone. It only got better when we walked inside and were ecstatic to find a refrigerator in the kitchen, and a lot more room than you would expect for a one-bedroom (a bit over 900 square feet.) We were like kids in a candy store and had been inside the place for approximately 45 seconds before we had seen every room and declared it the house we wanted to bring Pele Parr home to. Awwww :)

But wait! There's more! The best part about the place is the location. It's in a quaint older neighborhood on a tree-lined street a block away from a beautiful park. And not just any park. The very park where Tommy and I kind of started out as a couple. We met there for picnics over my lunch break while we were "courting" (for that whole entire month we dated before getting engaged, haha.) The "picnic" would consist of McDonald's from time to time, but I loved it anyway :) Besides all the mushy stuff, though, it's also just a sweet, sweet park. There are lots of festivals there every summer and it'll be great for the dogs since we don't have our own yard.

What a relief! Don't tell Tomas I said this, but the miserable search for a place was worth it if this house is what we got out of it. CP, out.

Alien Ninja Baby Pele Parr

Baby kicks! We've got some baby kicks! Make that LOTS of baby kicks. I actually felt the first one a few weeks ago, just a couple days before Tom hit the road to head to Modesto from Champaign. Of course he was the first person I told, and of course his immediate response was "Honey, are you sure it wasn't gas?" Seems that's a common confusion, as both of my ma's had the very same initial reaction. It was the real thing people, I promise! Since that first little fluttery movement (I was nearing the end of my 17th week, currently in the middle of my 19th) I've felt el bambino moving and shaking in there every single day. Pretty weird, folks, pretty weird.

But speaking of moving and shaking - this baby is all over the place! He kicks me all the time! Michelle's reaction to this news: "I'm not sure how I would deal with a small person constantly kicking me." Not to worry Mich, I poke him back from time to time :) Never too soon to assert the parental dominance. The movements have been so strong that Tommy has actually felt them too. He's only felt it once, but not for lack of trying! He has successfully branded the child with a new nickname that we BOTH enjoy, however - Pele Parr. Born ready. I have also shifted from referring to bebe as an alien to calling her my little ninja baby. Because without fail, the kid kicks/punches/head butts me every night under cover of darkness when I go to bed.

The Baby Bible says I'm in for an active pregnancy...I hope so.

An Update On Baby Parr's Parents is Severely Overdue...

So I suppose I should update this a bit and apprise the universe of exactly what Tommy and I are up to these days. Much has changed in the last couple of weeks!

We are officially back in Modesto, CA. I know, I know, we can't believe it either, but it's true! After a short hiatus I'm back with the Modesto Nuts, and actually started back three weeks ago in my old position as Director of Marketing and Public Relations. Tommy arrived in Motown last weekend after staying behind in the ILL state for a couple weeks to cover the final Illinois basketball games and pack all of our stuff in a big truck, and then drive our car out to Cali with the puppies. I flew out three weeks ago and have been staying with friends of ours and searching for a house for us to live in (which has gone somewhat miserably, but that's a whole blog post in and of itself...I'll just say this - who doesn't put a refrigerator</i> in a rental?? California renters, apparently. What a treat.)

SO! With the little addition I'm carrying my job has changed a bit from what it was last year, but it's all been for the better. I've thoroughly enjoyed the last few weeks back at work and am excited and relieved to have secured gainful employment once again. Tommy has returned this season as the Nuts PA announcer, with some added production duties.

Opening Night for the team was Thursday and it was faaaantastic! Now we're just getting through the rest of this 4-game home stand before we both have a complete day off on Monday...finally a day to sleep in!! But not to worry, I'm taking care of myself and getting as much sleep as I can, and still managing to eat pretty well, in spite of spending 18 hours a day at a ballpark. So that's the update, more to come, as opportunities to add content to this delightful blog are always more plentiful on the weekends.

If you're ever in the Modesto area, give us a call, we <3 drive-bys. :)

We Have a Life Form...

March 4 was the day. It started much like any other, but we had our first doctor's appointment. I was 14 weeks, to the day, but they wouldn't even let me make my appointment until I was 8 weeks and then I had to wait for the first avail...moderately frustrating. But all of that was forgotten when we walked into the exam room...and heard our baby's heartbeat!!

We Officially Have a Life Form!

It may be slightly politically incorrect, but I often refer to BabyParr as my Little Alien Baby, because, let's face it - it's absolutely insane to think there's a baby growing in my belly...INSANE!

The heartbeat was very fast, 163 to be exact, which the Nurse Practitioner said was perfectly normal. She also said it was perfectly normal that I wasn't showing at all yet. Which, at 17 weeks, I'm still not (I want the bump dammit! No one believes I'm prego!) Apparently you're supposed to be able to tell the baby's gender by how fast or slow the fetal heartbeat is, but thus far we have received nothing but conflicting reports as to how the fast/slowness relates to the male/femaleness. We'll take that Old Wives Tale with a grain of salt.

Which does beg the question, are we going to find out what the baby is? As I will reach the 18 week mark in a couple days, by the time we have our next appointment we should have an ultrasound and it just might be possible to see whether there are boy parts or girl parts...

But, alas, Mr. Thomas and I remain at an impasse as we broach this particular topic. He has made the declaration that he does not want to find out, while I, on the other hand, really, really, reallyreallyreally dooo. He wants us to be surprised together, which is incredibly sweet...but I need to prepare! I have compulsions! Dare I say obsessive compulsions as they pertain to details and preparation for life-altering events, that must be accommodated. How am I supposed to know if I'm shopping for sweet sweet baby Air Jordans, or a plethora of over-the-top headbands and hairbows?? (yes, some of the headbands will have feathers)

Buuut, then again, I don't have to find out. We can have a week's worth of gender-specific outfits on hand and fill in the rest as we go along, right? Actually, the stroller I must have is a gender-neutral gray. And as for the crib and nursery furniture I'll go with my long-time fave espresso-colored. We'll be renting, so it's not like I could paint the baby's room, anyway. So really, I could deal with not knowing. Oof. I think I lose the debate. Cause I know Tomasito won't change his mind. But I guess you never know - he could waver during the ultrasound and decide he wants to know!

Or I could just slip the doctor a note saying I'll call him later to find out the gender, and then just keep it a secret...Haha, I know, I didn't believe the part about me keeping a secret either. Oh, babies!

The All-Sacred First Toy...Has Been Chosen

So Tommy and I were on our way to go out to dinner one night in celebration of getting through our first trimester (Ruby Tuesday, I believe) and he decided he wanted to stop in at Toys R Us first to buy the baby its first toy.

Amid declarations of "I refuse to buy my child any toy that won't make it smarter" and "Why didn't they have this when I was a kid?!" we wandered the aisles of Toys R Us and Tomas tried out nearly every single Leapfrog learning system, robot, light-up device and bicycle. After countless gentle reminders that the baby will be a newborn when it makes its first appearance and the age recommendation of 3-5 years won't apply for quite some time, Tommy finally settled on a delightfully cute pair of maracas that count to three, teach colors, play music and talk not only in english - but spanish as well!

Needless to say the trip was a huge success, and the all-sacred first toy has been chosen aaaand purchased. We'll definitely need to get some new batteries for the maracas by the time the baby can play with them, if you guessed that's because Tom plays with them constantly at home - you're right. This child will have no shortage of fun in its life, guaranteed :)

A few pictures of the momentous occasion...





Cute :)

The Word Is Out...

Well, the word has officially gotten out (a trend started by my mother who spilled the beans to several people mere hours after finding out herself, in spite of explicit instructions to remain mum...some things never change...but, I digress.) I think Tommy and I have personally told, or attempted to personally tell as many family members and friends as possible...

We're having a baby!

Sooo...I suppose if you're reading this, but did not receive the news personally you have gained a new understanding of our closeness. Joking, of course...and changing the subject now! Because, after all, this is not what you want to read about...you wanna know how ON EARTH this happened, right?! Haha, me and Tom PARENTS? 100% responsible for another life?! How DID</i></b> this happen? Let me try to explain. You see, when a man and a woman really love each other, they...just kidding.

So if you haven't yet realized, the conception of Baby Parr (TinyParr, as my dad calls him/her...or FartParr as Tom has so lovingly branded his in-utero firstborn) was not a planned phenomenon (as few "phenomenon's" are, I suppose). In fact, Baby (Tiny...Fart...insert your own favorite zygote moniker here) might possibly be the worst-timed baby in the history of babies.

Aside: Now, there will come a day when Baby becomes First-Grader and learns how to read, and somehow finds this baby blog on the interwebs that I would have written about him/her 7-8 years ago and reads that last sentence...for that time 7-8 years from now I will clarify myself...Baby Parr is not a Mistake Baby, Baby Parr is a loved, welcome, yet highly unexpected edition to the Parr Family Tree. That being said...

Baby Parr comes about at a time when both of his/her parents are hot on the job hunt, living in my parent's vacant home, and with virtually zero legitimate claim to anything except the clothes on our backs. And the weight bench in the basement, we did buy that ourselves. Wait...actually, we used a gift card for the purchase of the weight bench...does that count? Eh, details. Because you know what? C'est la vie, my friends! Que sera, sera! Carpe Diem! It simply wouldn't be my crazy, chaotic, beautiful life if things like this didn't happen, and bringing a precious little bebe into the world in partnership with my favorite person on this earth is a fabulous thing. In spite of the alleged "obstacles" we have to overcome I want the world to know we are officially excited to be the greatest parents we can be! We're gonna have a mini-me to join in on all of our fantastic adventures - what could be better?!

So you wanna hear about how I told Tommy the good news? Sure you do! But I'm not spilling the beans...some stories need to be ours. I will tell you this, though, he was adorable and is extremely excited to be a daddy :). Whelp, since I'm not exactly sure what the optimum length for a blog entry is (I'm assuming the shortest it can possibly be, while still disseminating as much information as humanly possible is ideal) I'll go ahead and wrap it up.

Tommy and Christa Parr...Parents-To-Be...Woweee-Wow-Wow-Wow.