Everything you didn't want to know about my pregnancy

Warning: Long, wordy post with no pictures ahead. Proceed with caution.

We celebrated our three year anniversary this year and had a good time of it. We went out to eat at Da Pineapple Grill, a local restaurant that has the most amazing tangy pineapple chicken that I can't help but order every time we go there, got ourselves a waffle cone maker, and just had a good time. A couple of days later, bright and early in the morning before I had to go open up at Jack in the Box, I took a pregnancy test. Lo and behold, it was positive! I immediately woke Steve up (it's like, 5:30 in the am) and he's all, "What?! really?" because I guess I'm a little bit of a pregnancy hypochondriac, and every little twinge is a pregnancy symptom ("ow, my foot hurts, I must be pregnant!" etc.). Anyways, that's my "how I found out" story. Thankfully it was around our anniversary so I can remember when I found out too.

I've been feeling really well throughout. I feel a little guilty, like I should have been really sick or something, but then I smack myself around a bit and tell myself I don't have any major karma coming back to get me, and I'm able to be grateful for the fun experience being pregnant has been. I'm still able to enjoy some pretty good mobility, and I had no morning sickness, so I think I can consider myself blessed.

The closest thing I had to being sick was if I stayed up too late in the first trimester, or didn't have something digesting at all times I would feel pretty rotten, but those were both very easy fixes. I only felt nauseous for about two minutes, like one time. And it was minor. Now that I'm in the beginning of part of the third trimester (wait, what?!) I do feel like I just did about a hundred thousand (million-billion) crunches, and I have no lower abdominal muscles. If I had to do ten sit-ups to save my life I'd probably die at around three. I feel a little like a beached whale when I have to get out of bed some mornings. There's a lot of flopping and rolling and grunting and hoping I don't accidentally crack my head open on the bedside table. Good times. Living with me must seem like living with my 85 year old grandma, just with a little less memory loss.

So that's probably enough whining for now. I'm 26 weeks along, due January 14, which I'm really happy about because it meant I wasn't eight months pregnant in the middle of July, and winter is just my very favorite season. There's something so wonderful about cold air, fresh snow (especially if it's deep!) and the serenity that can come with it. I think it's worth the wait through summer and fall every year just to see the first dusting of snow on the ground. And when everything-- all the dead trees and messy lawns and dirty roads-- gets covered in the first good snowfall, it's like the world is pure and soft and beautiful. I'm just excited to have another winter birthday besides my own, and to have someone else to share it with. Maybe my baby will love winter like I do.

Ahem, rambling aside, I may have neglected to mention that the baby is a boy! My sister was rooting for a boy so any other chitlins we had would have an older brother. I'm excited, but it's WAY more difficult for me and Steve to agree on boy names than girl names, and that is my major disappointment. Heck, we all but had a girl name on a birth certificate, and then he had to go and be a boy. I am absolutely stumped as far as names go, and it is very frustrating. I guess we'll have to see what he looks like when he's born if we can't decide on one before then. But what am I even saying? Who wrote the rule that said you had to have a name picked out for your baby before he was even born? That's right, there is no rule, and if we have to call him "Baby" for the first couple of weeks of his life, then so be it. Grr.

So that is my story, life is good, being pregnant isn't so bad. I really enjoy feeling him move around, even if it does make me think of that one movie with the aliens that pop out of peoples stomachs ("rarr!"). Maybe by the next time I post I'll have a couple of names to throw out there. Le sigh.

Oh hey, we graduated!

You heard right! We are official graduates of Brigham Young University -- Idaho. It actually happened in April, so you can see that the procrastination problem has only gotten worse. But anyways, congratulations to us! Now here are some groovy pictures of us in silly gowns to prove that it actually happened.

 

Look! See how excited we are to be done with school?!

 

Does this gown make my butt look big?

 

Ok, we're not in the gowns in this one- sorry! I know I promised you'd see silly gowns, but I just couldn't resist-- isn't Steve so cute?

 

Gargoyles!

So yeah, that's my story for today. In case anyone was wondering and didn't know, we were both art majors; I was illustration, Steve was graphic design.

The End