Well, it's confirmed. I'm pregnant. I'm about 8 weeks pregnant with my Squishy. I call the baby that because I really do feel well..... Squishy. My emotions run rampant, and sometimes I just can't quit crying. Other times I wonder if I'll ever fit into my clothes again. I told Ross already, he was seriously unhappy at first. Worried about all of the millions of things that can go wrong. (Finances, economy, my health, the baby's health, the kids, society crumbling around us, etc.) But now... I wouldn't call him the glowing father, but he's certainly taken a chill pill or two. He's even decided we need to go shopping for Squishy instead of reusing some of the items we already had. (Crib, play pen, etc.) We're supposed to do some of the shopping with our tax return, that I filed myself today. (Oh, what joy that was.)
I had decided, Squishy, long before you were conceived that you would be Mommy's last baby. I know Daddy doesn't believe me, but you're it, bub. You will be Mommy's baby forever. After Mommy brings you into this world, and holds you in my arms instead of my belly, I am going to make sure Mommy can't have any more babies. I'm 30 now. I always said I wanted to be done having kids at 30. I don't want to be confused with someone's grandmother sitting in the stands at graduation. I want to have energy to chase my children around our big yard, push you in a swing, teach you all kinds of fun stuff.
I have to tell you something, Squishy. I will be happy either way, as long as you are healthy, and I get to bring you home and love you forever, but I am really hoping, wishing and praying that you're a little boy. I have been longing for the chance to decorate the nursery in blue. I've been yearning for a little boy to wear the outfits that I've had stashed in the back of my closet. I ache for the sound of a little boy's voice calling out to me. But if you're a girl, that's okay too. I love you, regardless. You were made with love. You are wanted. You have three sisters who can't wait to meet you. Skyler asks how you're doing every day, sometimes several times a day, and sweet Bailey is just getting the idea there's someone living in Mommy's tummy. Some days she tries to "play" with you, by placing various toys on my midsection, other days she tries to touch you, by sticking a finger into my belly button.
Squishy, I've got to let you know, you have instigated some weird cravings for Mommy. I've gone from wanting Mexican food one moment, to wishing I had sea food the next, with a side of something I can eat with salad dressing. And it's not just Catalina anymore, it's ranch too. But for some reason you won't let Mommy enjoy Italian dressing anymore. It was one of my favorites, but I just can't seem to handle the flavors. I also can't eat cake. We like yogurt though, and fresh broccoli with ranch. Tomatoes are another weird item, and I say weird because I couldn't stand tomatoes. But you've got me eating them, and drinking tomato juice with no problems. French fries are another current favorite. I don't like the smell of coffee much anymore though...
Well, that's about it for the updates. I've got to find something to eat, and get Skyler and Bailey in bed.
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