If you couldn't see it before...

Now, you have no excuse. Latest ultrasound of Piccolo G taken on 12-22-08. You can see the glowing spine, enormous brain and chicken legs - amazing! It was squirming and hiccuping - probably from the pancakes I had for lunch. Sorry, kid.

Pregnancy a disability? I'll take it!

This past Thursday we headed to San Francisco and the historic Fillmore to enjoy the melodic stylings of the ex-Mr. Kate Hudson and his band The Black Crowes. Amy invited me to join her a few months back and Steve was invited by a work associate, so we all met up at Harry's on Fillmore for some pre-concert drinks (and Cokes) and Kobe sliders.

The gang at Harry's. The Amy's make a "Dan sandwich" to protect Carly the waitress from his smooth moves.

It didn't work. None of the rest of us spoke to her, but we do know (from Dan's extensive research):
Carly age 26, art student, going to Hawaii for Christmas with friends from London.

The Amy's

There was some confusion (read: Steve/Eric didn't read the menu) and we ended up with enough fries to feed the entire bar. Or one pregnant woman.

I was a little worried about the show because I wasn't feeling fantastic and there is very little seating at the Fillmore. I was scoping out possible make-shift seats when Dan and I noticed a row of small tables along the right side of the theatre. Dan went one way and I went the other to inquire with the staff about how you reserve those tables. I found two workers lazily guarding the staircase. The woman told me that the seats were "reserved for handicapped or disabled people or pregnant women - not that pregnant women are disabled, ha ha." I said, " Oh, well I'm pregnant and I don't feel well, does that count?" The mean looking man was quick to tell me that they were all reserved...as he looked at me skeptically. Normally, I'd be flattered that he didn't think I looked pregnant, but I was willing to be "disabled" for the chance to not have to stand for 2.5 hours as I inhaled second hand mary jane. I walked away defeated.

Dan, on the other hand, had much better luck. He made friends with Susan, a serious but kind-hearted bouncer type and the two of them magically appeared with VIP type stickers that read "T9" for Table 9. I stuck it out for about 30 minutes standing, swaying and mildly rocking out. Then I decided that for longevity sake, I'd better have a seat. So Amy and I ditched the boys and headed in search of salvation. Table 9 turned out to be the very first table - practically against the stage. Amazing. Amy and I looked at each other in awe as we sat down and could nearly spit on Chris Robinson (which would have been his first bath in weeks). This was much better than the visions I'd had of listening to the concert while sitting on the bench in the lobby, munching on an apple. Minus the short period of time when Andre the Giant decided to stand right in front of us, the view of Chris' svelt 135 lb. body was unobstructed.

Amy noted as we left that she could see the appeal of Chris the rocker. She liked his groove. Maybe it's my sensitive gag reflex these days, but something about the straggly hair being as long as the straggly beard just doesn't work for me. But, he is a rock star. I wonder if he likes "disabled" chicks...

Saltines By the Bedside Table

The last seven weeks were rough. Nausea set in nearly everyday, usually in the shower at 6:30am. I won't go into the gory details, but it would persist off and on throughout the day - especially when entering the smelly, dank, windowless bathroom at work. I tried everything recommended to me in hopes that something would be my magic remedy. Here's a few:

• Saltines on my bedside table to eat if I woke up in the middle of the night and before I got out of bed in the morning. Drymouth+saltines = crumbs in bed = EW.
  

• Granola bars with me at all times, in my car, purse, desk drawer...I think there is still half of one in my coat pocket. Along with a dirty Kleenex. Yum.


• B6 lollipops from the website that sold me my ovulation kit. They actually weren't bad, although it really scared my mother-in-law that I was eating something I bought online.


• Sea sickness bracelets - which I promptly dumped when I noticed them on my wrists while I was clutching the toilet seat.

Nothing worked like a charm, I just suffered through with the thought that this baby better be damn healthy. Usually the nausea would subside and allow my body about 10 minutes to rest before I would become utterly and completely famished. Like I hadn't eaten in 2 weeks - when I'd just had a granola bar, five saltines and a yogurt about 30 minutes before. To satisfy these hunger PAINS, I'd have to eat - immediately, if not sooner. The first thing that popped into my head that sounded good, I had to have it. These meals included, but were not limited to: Jamba Juice and a slice of mushroom from Pizza My Heart; a Burger King Whopper and fries (something I'd never had before in my life); Chicken McNuggets, fries and Coke (because McDonald's Coke is the elixir of the Gods); a McDonald's soft serve (that's it, nothing else. Oh, well and a Coke of course); Happi House Udon noodles and side of tempura and one more...

Upon leaving my first doctor's appointment, I was at the light at Bascom and Camden. Instead of turning left to go back to work, I cut across 3 lanes of traffic to turn into the A&W/KFC. I just wanted a root beer float. That's all, I swear. But somehow I walked out of there with a root beer float and an extra crispy two-piece meal with biscuit. And honey. The first piece of chicken was heavenly, but thankfully my senses got the best of me and I had to walk the rest outside and throw it away because the smell was too much.

I hope the kid forgives me for clogging it's poor little arteries before they've even formed properly. But it was either that or starve. Finally, these urgent, greasy cravings have passed and I can finally think about a salad again without wanting to gag.

C'mon, you can see it

I admit to being one of those people who is unable to decipher other people's ultrasound pictures, ever. But this one, c'mon, can't you see it?? It's right there, clear as day. It's kinda laying on it's side, with the head and black eyes (on your left) peering like an alien at you. There is already a binky stuck in the mouth to keep it quiet.

All that matters is that I can see it. Maybe because it's my own and I was there in the room to see it squirming about and Robert, best ultrasound tech EVER (in my expansive knowledge of ultrasound techs), pointed everything out to us.

And yes, I'm going to use the term "It" for now, it's easier than writing "He/She" all the time. It will also be referred to occasionally as "Piccolo", our hopefully not too annoying nickname for It.

Piccolo Giachetti, 10.5 weeks

Aspiring not to be lame

I've been dragging my feet to start this blog, even though a few friends have been prodding me to enter this strange world of blogging for some time now. I have always said that I wouldn't have anything interesting to talk about until I had kids. Well, some friends have found hilarity in some of my pregnancy stories and hijinx, so I decided to get started about 6 months early. I apologize if it's lame and boring...on second thought, no, I don't!