Zuper Secret!

I just looked at my handy dandy "What to Expect when you're Expecting" book, and it said I was in my fourth month, which is news to me, for some reason. I think its denial that makes me think I am DEFINITELY not four months along, because that would mean the baby would be coming in 5ish months.

If we are assuming this best seller book is telling the truth, then I am pretty sure that I should have gained more than 3 lbs this far. Cuz all that stuff growing inside me weighs stuff too right? I don't know, but we are seeing the midwife tomorrow so all my questions will be answered.

You want to here a super top super zuper secret? 'Kay but you can't tell anyone!
Actually I don't care if you tell anyone, I've told people so I guess I should take away one of those super's.

Anyhoo, I haven't got excited yet. I am happy and really really scared for when I actually push a living life form into this world and it will be another being that roams that world and plays a part in it, but other than that? No.
I'm not unhappy in anyway, but people are now asking me if I am excited about becoming parents, and I say 'yes', but what I am really thinking is 'Parents? Mike and I are just pushing another friend for us to play with into this world.' The idea that I will be called a Mother is strange, because that title belongs to my Mom. I am Bryn, and the baby of course can call me Ma or Mom or Mama because those are A LOT easier for an infant to say then Bryn. But when I think of myself being called a Mother, well the definition doesn't seem to fit.


Mother: a title of respect, loving, caring, selfless, stays up really late to make sure everyones lunch is packed and then wakes up really early to make sure everyone is bright eyed and bushy tailed before leaving on time, drives the kids to their practices and gives them a pep talk along the way, dresses everyone in matching clothes for the family photo

Bryn: most commonly associated with flaky, loving, kind(ish), stays up late to make lunches that she forgot to make earlier and then wakes up not so early to sip coffee and wake everyone else up so we can all run in a panic to TRY to leave the house on time, drives kids to practices (prolly running late) and pretends like she goes blind while driving to scare the kids and let them appreciate life a little more, dresses everyone in matching clothes for the family photo

Yeah, that last one matches because I am going to do that. I just love the family photos you see of all the family dressed in stripped shirts, making them all look like bugs. I am totally doing BUNNY EARS! I'm so excited.
But do you see what I mean? The definitions don't really match up right. I do wonder if, when the baby comes and I have little heart attacks every time it falls down and I have to keep Neosporin in my back pocket, I will magically change into a Mother. I don't wonder that to much because I know that I will still pretend to go blind in the car, thats just too funny.

I learned about presevence, Thank you Mr. Squirrel

He lays down at the end, poor little guy is pooped.

I throw up my emotions....its sad...sorry

I just read this amazing post from one of the bloggers I follow about how she lost her father when she was really young, and then asked the readers how they coped with loss. I realized that how I cope with loss is I just forget. I block out the funeral, and the memories that hurt, that way I can talk about the person with a smile on my face. Even now I think about deleteing what I have wrote so far and forgetting about writing about this post, but I won't, I don't think that is how I should handle it anymore.

For all the tears I didn't shed at the funeral, I will let them fall now, that way I don't carry them around and almost sob like a baby when I read something on facebook about him, or see a photo of him.

My Papaw died 8 months ago, on the day after my birthday. Honestly it couldn't been on the birthday, I don't remember, I just remember Mom waiting a few days to tell me so it wouldn't mess up my birthday, which is nice, but sitting here now all I can remember is sitting on the couch after Mom called and told me, and telling Mike. I didn't cry, it didn't even sink in.
"Papaw died"
And Mike just stared at me and then held me close, but tears still didn't come. I told him that we all expected it because he was so sick, and it was actually a blessing because he didn't hurt anymore. It was different, I said, that's why I'm not crying.
Then I snuck away and laid in our bed for a while, that's when the tears came, really slow. Mike found me and all I could do was apologize, I thought it was silly of me to cry when I knew it was coming. Mike is so much smarter than me, he held me again and told me not to say I was sorry, that it was still going to hurt no matter what. He's a good man.

I look back at that now and see how false that is to say its different because you know death is coming, death is still sad, still painful even if you had years to prepare, because you can't prepare to not have that person in your life, thats not possible.

I didn't go to school, because I knew no matter how strong Mom was she was going to need me, I told myself to be strong for others, to do what made the others hurt, so to save them a little. I went to Mamaw's house and got people coffee, I pulled old photos of Papaw out of picture frames to give to the funeral home, I gathered the clothes Papaw was going to be buried in, I held Mamaw and said nothing, because what in the world could you say. I worked beside Jade, my strong cousin, who did everything I did, and had tears in her eyes almost the entire time, she was amazing. My Mom, Jade, her brother Cole, and I ran through Walmart and Kohls looking for a tan v-neck sweater because Mamaw was in tears that we couldn't find it. I made jokes about being the only people in the world that could look through two huge stores in less than 15mins to try to bring some smiles to the day.

I can't remember if the wake was seperated into two days, or if it was just one. I do know that I went to every one of them though. I remember I kept chanting to myself, Don't Cry, Don't Cry, Don't Cry. And if anyone sees you cry, stop, they don't need to feel bad for you, there are others that need their hugs more than you.
I remember feeling selfish, and only whispering it to Mom and Mike, about how all I wanted for the last few months was that Papaw made it to my wedding, that he got to see me be married, and that he wouldn't be there now, there would be one less chair to gather. I didn't say it to anyone else during the wakes, because I thought it was so selfish to think about that.
I cried a few times during the wakes, but I don't think anyone noticed. I cried at night and still apologized to Mike.

During the wake that was held at the church before the burial, I walked around like a damn zombie. I literally didn't cry while the family greeted everyone, while I excepted hugs, and tearful "I'm sorry for you loss"s. One older couple, after greeting me, talked about me in whispers, thinking I couldn't hear them. The husband asked "what was wrong with me", he actually sounded concerned that my face wasn't covered in tears. The wife whispered back, "Shes in shock, complete shock." They shook their heads for me and walked away.
I thought, shock explains how I feel very well. I also felt ashamed that I couldn't take peoples attention off me even if I wasn't crying, my sorrow was a mask glued to my face.

I lost myself completely, when we sat and heard the preacher say wonderful things about Papaw, and my Mom broke down. I couldn't stop the tears, and I just held Mom while she tried to control herself. Then I saw something that broke me, just broke me. The biggest flower arragement, the one closest to Papaw casket, was made of red roses, yellow daisies, and purple statis. They were my wedding flowers. The exact same ones that I had ordered only a few weeks ago. Papaw knew, he knew he was missing it, knew it was important to me, and that was his way of being there. When I started sobbing, I somehow managed to tell my Mom what was wrong, and we both sobbed big baby sobs, the ones that take your breath away, and make you hiccup, and you try to muffle because you know you are being to loud.

After that cry though, I didn't cry anymore. We lit candles for the ones we missed at our wedding ceremony, and I know Papaw thinks its a great joke, cuz he was always smarter than us, and the flowers that made up my bouquet were red roses, yellow daisies, and purple statis.
I didn't read my families Facebook status' that said anything about Papaw, I avioded pictures of him.

I didn't think about that he died 4 months before my wedding, and 5 months before we found out I was pregnant. He would have loved that. I didn't think about that Mike really liked my Papaw, and Papaw actually liked him and wanted to get to know him, and never got to. Cuz a stupid family fight. I didn't think about how I didn't see as much of him as I should have towards the end for the same reason.
I didn't mourn him.

And that was wrong, I thinking about it now, I throwing up my emotions on this post, so I'm not scared of them anymore.

I'm going to remember Papaw. Remember: that he could hold his breath under water longer than me no matter how many times I tried, the stories he told of France and riding trains to get to other countries, that he taught himself German with a instruction manual and a German dictionary, that he used to type up my school reports for me and telling him he didn't have to erase a whole sentence to get to that one mispelled word, him falling asleep on our recliners with a cookie in his hand, driving the church bus and telling us that if stuck our heads out the window a truck would decapitate us and that it was totally true, telling me I had piano fingers and teaching me songs, listening to his beautiful music while I sat somewhere else in the house, him finding my cat after a day of losing her(he woke up to her sleeping on his chest), his birthday when he met Mike and insisted that he get in that family photo, him sitting in front of Mamaw hugging her and giving her kisses, the long math problems that he made up to test himself, how he would laugh if got the jeopardy question wrong, the day the riding mower caught on fire and he tried to put it out with a watering can. Ha, Mom and I ran across the field to stop him from getting close to that damn thing. Haha, two firetrucks and one emergency pickup truck showed up to put out the little riding mower.

I going to remember that stuff,
and I will never forget the flowers we shared.

The Disgusting Truth

I capitalized it cuz its super important in my life right now.

I haven't been able to post in a while because Mike and I have been house sitting, and we have yet to figure out the wireless internet there. Anywhoo...

I am now into my second trimester, I am about 14 weeks, and the vomiting has stopped for a while, but I still involuntary gag every once in a while, which is good because I would miss it if it went away completely.
Since I don't remember if I updated my bra search or not, and I am going to be lazy and not back check past posts, I'll fill you in. I got a bra, after trying on about 15 different ones trying to figure out if they fit or not, I found that my size is 38C. I can tell you this knowing that this will not be considered unwanted knowledge compared with what I will tell you later in this post. Eat this tidbit of sugary goodness, the sour ball is coming.
Well the bra I got is visible under my white shirts, which is inconvenient, but not really relevant anymore since I can no longer fit in them. I brought my bra home and modeled it for Mike, not in a 'sexual way', but in a 'bragging that I found a bra that fit way'.
He said, "Oh, good."
Which is what I have trained him to do when I show him clothing, so I was happy. I then took off the thing and put on a pajama shirt, throwing the bra on the bed. THEN he really looked at.
He said, "Whoa! That bra will NOT fit you!"
I said, "Mike you just saw it on me, it fits."
He said, "No, look at it! Its huge!"
I then held up the cup of the bra and held it up to my boob, which it of course fit perfectly. Mike was astonished. I can see where he was coming from though because after looking at the cups of my bra, they look like cereal bowls. Which I find hilarious, and sad that they fit now, but my boobs are still growing.

Sour Ball: I was warming you up before I gave this information, but this is what the title of this post is about. The truth about vomiting during preggy time, is that most of the preggo women stop during the second trimester, coming down with other symptoms including weight gain, constipation, swollen feet, and other things. I have stopped vomiting, like I mentioned earlier, but the two pounds that I proudly gained during my first trimester have vanished during my second.
This is because I am not like the lucky preggo women, yes I consider you lucky, that get constipation. I am unlucky because I have the exact opposite.
The lucky ones that get constipation, have pains in the belly, prolly worry about whether or not they are chewing thoroughly enough, and have long periods of sitting in the bathroom, followed by relief until the next bout comes along. Me, I have pains in my tummy, worry about everything I put in my mouth thinking that it is the cause, have short times in the bathroom where everything in my stomach comes out a damn liquid in less than 30 seconds, followed by a burning anus.

Its the truth, and its disgusting. I am still waiting for the time in the pregnancy where you feel like those smiling models in all the maturterny ads. But I'm pretty sure thats a lie.

A dirty, pretty, lovely LIE!

Angry Fruit!

You don't want to see him when he's angry, he turns into a GIANT PEAR!

He's like a sweeter tasting Hulk...and more travel sized.

@TheBloggess

Ha I forgot to put a title, I am totally goign to forget our names

So Mike and I have been talking about whether the baby is a girl or boy, he thinks its going to be a girl, I think boy, but as long as a healthy baby comes out we really don't care otherwise. We also talk a lot about how baby will look, because Mike and I share NO physical traits.
I have red hair, hazel eyes, very pale skin with freckles, and I'm kinda short(okay I'm short).
Mike has dark brown hair, super blue eyes, skin that tans with an hour of sunlight, and is an average height.
Even our toes are different!...but I'm getting off my point here..

Last night I had a dream about our baby, I ususally am not the one who dreams about baby, that's Mike's area, but last night I totally had one!
It was a girl, and it had exetremely long hair for a newborn, it was down to her shoulders! And I said, "Mike, see thats what all that indigestion was for!" It was this pretty brown color, not as dark as Mike's, but not even close to dirty blond. And it looked like it had been blown dry, which I questioned, but didn't say anything because it looked so good. She had pale skin, and lots of freckles, the thing about that though, was that it looked like one of the freckles took up most of her face, from under her eye, down her cheek and almost to her nose.
When I realized that she had got this gene of crazy freckles from me, I almost told Mike I was sorry, when our baby girl smiled at us, and she was just absolutely beautiful.

Thats about the end of my dream, the rest really isn't that interesting, we forgot the name we were going to name her, which made us look STUPID.
But other than that I can't wait for mike to call me on his break so I can tell him I am a psychic, maybe, and that we need to write those names on our hands BEFORE we leave for the hospital.

No one talks about the fat time

When and before you get preggo, people talk about the little baby and the baby bump, and the little clothes and furiture, and if they talk about the bad stuff then they mention the tender breasts and the painful contractions and the staying up at night with baby. No one ever mentioned the fat period of the pregnancy.

The time when you are actually getting a baby bump, but its not really there yet so you just look fat.
It's stupid, I don't like it.

pleh