Sunday, March 13, 2011


Last night we held Z's official "Happy 33" birthday party and it was a hoot. Besides our notorious lack of pictures (it's a pathological problem), we have nothing but good thoughts for the company and conversations that traveled south to help fill our evening. Not being able to have a drink seemed like such a big issue in the first couple of months of pregnancy, but I've come to find that there are just as many drinks that are tasty and bad for you that don't contain alcohol. My favorite substitute: root beer.

I know where we all get our preconceived notions about what it means to be pregnant - I had them in tow before I got my first positive pregnancy test. But those expectations have become somewhat comedic now that they're being applied to me, and I often laugh at things deal with pinning-down my well-being because, well, whose well-being isn't constantly shifting in one way or another? I'm happy to report that no, I haven't had any morning sickness lately and (fingers crossed) I should be out of the woods with that. I haven't had a craving for any strange concoctions and have spared Z untimely trips to Pick N' Save, McDonald's, or any other food palace. My sleep has been relatively restful and not punctuated by any extremely vivid or bizarre dreams, although I did have the other night that has me wondering.

The question of what I think the baby's sex will be or what I want it to be is a constant one. I have no feeling either way, and as long as the baby's healthy I'm ok with having a boy or a girl (cop out answer, I know, but completely true!). But Friday night I dreamt that I was watching a little girl play in a big play pen that was more like a meadow encased in a low, round stone wall. There were stone steps that led out of it, and when I reached my arms out to her she walked right up to me and let me pick her up and place her outside of her enclosure. I put her down and took a good look at her to find out who she was. She had dark brown curly hair and dark eyes and looked like she had borrowed Little Miss Moffat's clothing and coiffure, and I couldn't decide if she looked Asian (like me) or not. I looked at her intently trying to decide whose child she was. The way she looked at me and the way she let me hold her made me feel like she was mine, but there was something unfamiliar and distant about her that made think otherwise. I have no idea if that dream is trying to tell me anything, but it's the only dream I've had so far dealing with our baby's gender. What do you make of that?

Since I've been so remiss at taking pictures, here's some oldies because posts are only interesting when there's something to look at. These pictures are from my first - and so far only half-marathon - in Indianapolis last spring. I signed up for the same race this year before finding out I was pregnant, but maybe I can be pounding the pavement at this event next year.

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