Status Report

Tomorrow, I'll be 18 weeks along. There are a few things that I've noticed as I march toward the halfway mark. I haven't really gained much weight yet and I'm still barely showing, but I still feel huge. One aggravating factor is that my breathing is more labored these days -- especially after a large meal. And when my digestive tract gurgles, the sounds are unmistakably coming from the vicinity of the heart, rather than near the belly. This of course makes me wonder about how uncomfortable I'll be near the end . . . and to say that I deal poorly with discomfort would be a huge understatement. I had the Other J feel for my uterus and noticed that it's hitting higher than it should (at least according to book illustrations). When I demanded to know why this was so, the Other J merely shrugged and said, "You don't have as much room." Great.

As for more exciting matters, next week, if Lil' Bromer is willing, we'll find out the sex of the baby. Various folks have asked us, "Oh, are you going to find out?" I've refrained from replying incredulously, "Do you really think that we're the kind of people who are into surprises?!?!?!" But please. Of course we're going to find out. I hope Lil' Bromer is immodest.

Chaos

Our house is a big, big mess. We're in the midst of renovating our bathroom. Since it's our only bathroom, our contractor has promised to "keep it alive" during the renovation. So the toilet is functioning and we have plastic draped along the new cement boards. But showering in my flip-flops have turned out to be more risky than anticipated -- I almost fell the other morning. The Other J was not amused. And who knew that without the water spout, that water doesn't actually flow down, but instead shoots straight across and strikes the belly with surprising force?

And the dust. Oh the dust. I must be allergic to it. Although I don't recall this severe a reaction previously. Supposedly my mucous membranes are more sensitive. All I know is that last night, I kept on waking up with fits of coughing and sniveling. It was so bad that I decided to abandon my bed to sleep on the couch. The congestion was less of a problem there, but I couldn't sleep due to sheer discomfort. For much of the week, I've been walking around in a dazed stupor.

My life's been on hold this week. I can't get focused during all this chaos. Any projects I had going are all on hold. Of course, the Other J is putting me to shame. He is on vacation this week and instead of going away & relaxing, he decided on a "working vacation." While I've been just taking up space, he attacked our jungle of a backyard. He's cleared, hauled brush to the dump, spread carfuls of mulch around, and planted. He's also finishing up 8 abstracts for a conference in the fall. Today, he's painting the bathroom before the contractors come back to tile the floor and shower. I had hoped that we could go away one day this week and spend a night in Newport, RI. Unfortunately, it doesn't jive with the Other J's to do list. And since we're at a point in the renovation that makes sense for us to go away, we're spending a night at the Hampton Inn in Milford (the next town over). It's not so bad . . . I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the Hampton Inn.

Lil' Bromer

The Other J decreed that while in utero, the baby will be dubbed Lil' Bromer. I had written it out as L'il Bromer, but the spouse made me correct the spelling. Apparently, it makes a difference. I want to make my point again that I AM NOT A BROMER. I don't, in fact, like the transitional name for obvious reasons. We had a discussion or two about giving any child of ours my last name. My feminist soul loved the idea of it. The fact that it would have offended the in-laws in no small measure would have also been a great boon. But the Other J wasn't quite as non-conventional as I would have liked. So Lil' Bromer it is.

The Other J was kind of surprised that I didn't fight him on it. But given that he had printed out a copy of an ultrasound with the title "Lil' Bromer" on top, then posted it at his office . . . it just seemed a little late. Maybe I will reserve the right to name the baby and give it an especially strange name once the transitional phase is over. Besides the Other J is starting to see Lil' Bromer more as a person than me. He talks to the belly every day. I think it's cute, but can't quite get on board about thinking Lil' Bromer as a person. At the moment, I am still prone to cautiously viewing it as an exotic biological phenomenon that may result in some sort of health risk to me (all those warnings about how severe preeclempsia may render me blind - but "only temporarily" have taken its toll). Maybe having a transitional name will help me better to envision a little person. Even if it's Lil' Bromer.

Home Sweet Home

It's good to be back. I've been away for a little less than 3 weeks. The first leg of the trip was to see a couple of new babies and the latter leg of the trip was to see my Dad. Although I love to travel, I have to admit my flurry of activity has been draining. Incidentally, it also happens to be the longest period of time that the Other J and I have been apart since we got married. Normally, when I go off on trips on my own, since they generally tend to be short, I tell the crestfallen spouse that I haven't gone away long enough to miss him. I know, it's harsh. But I missed him a great deal during this last trip.

My time in Korea was hard. I never enjoy the 14 hour flight to and fro, and I'm not sure if being pregnant made me more sensitive, but I found the trips to be especially uncomfortable. Figuring that I'd need extra help against nausea, I dutifully took dramamine every 4-6 hours. Of course, this made me extra drowsy, but I was unable to sleep. Also, given the Other J's dire warnings of blot clots, I dutifully walked around the plane every couple of hours. I couldn't help but look longingly at the business and first class cabins and think "some day".

It was good to see my father, but it was difficult to observe his deteriorating health. After all, he is only 71. One other thing that I keenly felt during this trip is that I'm not that Korean. I'm not trying to reject my heritage, but as much as I like rice, I had difficulty consuming it 3 times a day. And for some reason, there just seemed to be some sort of fish stew or fish soup every time I sat down for a meal. I am a fan of fish. Also a fan of soup. But fish soup - blech. I tend to lose weight when I go to Korea, mostly because I'm self-conscious about the fact that practically everyone that I see at some point makes a comment about my weight. I should be the size of Shamu by now, according to the perspective of some, as each encounter prompts them to remark that I have gained significant weight since I saw them last. Yet the scale has not fluctuated more than a 5-8 lb. range since college. One of life's great mysteries, I suppose. I thought I'd be saved the remarks since after all, I was pregnant this time around, but one person made the same comment. Even after I reminded them of my pregnant state, they seemed to think it was their due to continue to comment.

Also, since my mother passed away early (and she was generally a hands-off kind of mom), and I don't have tons of family in this country, I have become accustomed to not discussing with others my decisions or have much feed back or opinions directed at me. When I go to Korea, my head fairly wants to burst with the cacophony of input from relatives. Granted, I know it's their way of expressing love. But I'm not used to having people take away my soda mid-consumption, because it's not good for me. Plus, due to my pregnant state, the fact that I had traveled at all was rather controversial. I could see relatives struggle to keep their peace about that, and ultimately fail. Sigh.

One unanimous concern that the female members of my family had was that of my postpartum care. They all informed me that Korean females were unlike sturdy Western counterparts and required very specific, Korean postpartum care. For instance I should not be showering for weeks, shouldn't touch any cold water, my room should be kept overly warm, should eat copious amounts of seaweed soup (at least it's not fish soup) etc., etc. If I should not get this care? Chilly hands in my old age, aches of my joints and bones, etc. As the Best Friend pointed out (who is ethnically Korean, but didn't get the special Korean care and therefore shall suffer these maladies in old age), the symptoms seem to be common age-related symptoms. Of course, when I shared all this with the Other J, he was more than a little dubious - especially about the showering part. He may just have to get used to sleeping with a stinky wife.

In Search of Noodle Soup

I'm blogging from my aunt's house in Ohio. I drove here on Monday to spend time with my aunt's family -- including the most recent addition, baby P. He's very cute and not surprisingly (given my cousin's ample tresses), came out with a full head of hair. I think my energy level's picking up. The drive here took 9 hours and I felt pretty good, even at the end of the day. Tomorrow, I'm heading to Washington, PA, which is mercifully only a 3 hr drive from where I am, to visit the Dr.s F and little Allison Clare. It's probably good for me to spend all this time with newborns to get a taste for what's in store for me.

At the moment, a lot of my attention's been given over to the belly. Or more accurately, I've been letting it dictate my behavior. During my pregnancy, I haven't really had sharp cravings, per se, but I have a general hankering for good Asian food. Enough ink has been devoted to the unavailability of good Asian food in New Haven, but that reality hadn't kept me from fantasizing. My most frequent fantasies have been about two Asian noodle dishes that I consumed with great regularity during my time in D.C.: pho & tom yum gai sub (from Thai Shirlington).

Given that I am in a bigger city, I decided that I could get pretty decent pho here. So I drove 30 minutes out to a place that I had researched on the web and took myself out to lunch. The server gave me a funny look when I ordered an order of summer rolls AND the large bowl of pho. I didn't care. My only regret was that I lacked the capacity for more! If I used Arlington's Pho 75 as a 10 on a scale of 1-10, my lunch was an 8 1/2. Not bad. I was more than satisfied. Now, if only I could get my hands on the tom yum gai sub. I've relentlessly searched for a comparable tom yum noodle soup, but unfortunately, no one can touch Thai Shirlington's interpretation. Sigh.

Expecting

It's official. I'm pregnant. 12 weeks. I had my first trimester screening today and earlier on in the week I had a battery of tests. Since everything looks good and the requisite number of weeks have gone by, the Other J and I thought it was a good time to announce. I must say, however, that locally, the cat's been out of the bag for a while.

There is a surreal quality to the whole process since I haven't thus far, had many of the typical pregnancy symptoms. Yes, I had some nausea, but on the whole it was mild - certainly not severe enough for vomiting. And I think I've been more tired, but it's kind of hard to gauge. Since I'm not working, I sleep as late as I want and take naps as frequently as I like. Although the fact that I'm taking naps at all is certainly different.

I had been afraid that given the Other J's line of work, he would be very nonplussed about my pregnancy. My fear turned out to be baseless, he is as nervous as any other new father-to-be. He is in a more neurotic state than usual and gets all upset at seeing me display what he deems to be risky behaviors - like when I pretended to run across some ice or do my series of jumping and clicking my heels together. He takes the opportunity to tell me in those moments that I've got weak ankles. Also, I fell out of bed the other day and he threatened to attach rails to the sides. And the Other J hand-picked an OB for me who is going to manage me in the same manner that he himself would.

The Other J threatened to post our ultrasound pics, but I talked him out of it. In certain angles, it just looks like an alien life form at the moment. The first time we had an ultrasound (I've had lots already because ours was an IVF pregnancy), I think he was a little disappointed. He's seen many of his patients shake, cry, and "praise Jesus" the first time they see that heartbeat. All I did was say, "cool." But as I don't FEEL very pregnant at the moment, I think that's been my sentiment thus far. Cool.

Sunny CA

Here are some pictures from our trip:


As I had mentioned previously, the Other J's ulterior motive was to persuade me that CA would be a great place to live. He made his motives known to all the various folks we saw and stayed with during our trip, which resulted in every friend becoming a self-appointed tourguide/sales person. I dunno. When I look at this picture, I think we obviously look like visitors - we just don't look like we belong there . . .


A picturesque scene from La Jolla.


Seals sunning themselves on the beach. What a life!


A shot of a gorilla at the San Diego zoo. Incidentally, it's the Other J's favorite picture from our trip.

Separated at birth? This is my favorite picture from the trip. Maybe it says something that my favorite picture is one of my husband and that his favorite is a shot of a gorilla.