*the woman in the above picture is not me. Ok, glad we're clear on that.
Well, I'm almost to the half way mark in my pregnancy, and am finally approaching that dreaded point that every expectant woman reaches: facing the prospect of spending a good amount of money on clothes that you think are cute now, but inevitably you will hate by the end of your term. Add to that being petite, and it's become clear that finding comfy- yet stylish maternity wear is going to be a challenge. Am I up for it? Do I pledge to avoid polyester tent-like dresses like the plague? And to keep wearing my (modestly high) heels? And to eat (mostly) right, stay active, and exfoliate regularly? Yes, yes, yes, and yes!
One of my main concerns has been my weight. When I was fourteen, although I never developed an eating disorder, I went through a phase of constantly weighing myself (3-4 times daily), and I know that I don't want to be neurotic like that again. I've always been slim-but-not-skinny, and given that and my healthy BMI, height, age, and maternal history, my goal for pregnancy gain is 20-25 pounds. So far, I'm right on track.
I'd say secondary to that is the concern of clothes. Right now, I finally fit the pair of CK sz 2's that were my too-big jeans prepregnancy. I already have a pair of maternity capris, and I plan on getting one or two pairs of jeans, three or four dresses, numerous tops, stretchy skirts, and the holy grail: a modest and relatively inexpensive swimsuit.
Ridge and I have finalized our choice for a girl name, so now we are prepared for either/or. My next ultrasound is next week, and we *might* find out the little M.'s gender. It's getting pretty tempting, and to be perfectly honest, I'm rather alarmed and appalled at the fact that we've succumbed so soon to the seemingly universal urge parents develop to check out their offspring's privates. Shame on us. Pervs.
Many of you might already know, but last Wednesday, our Jeep Cherokee was stolen. It was already having problems, and when it was found a couple days later, the engine was toast. We were able to get a '96 Ford Taurus on Sunday at the Creston Auction. Our mechanic, Mike Shelley, is going to replace the transmission, and then it will need only a few cosmetic fixes. We are so thankful to Jason Ferguson, for finding our Jeep, Dad Vestal, for letting us drive his Suburban while in limbo, Dad Mallery for bidding for us, Mike, for his expert advice and help, and most of all, to God, for making a way for us.
So that has been our life lately.
And now I need to fold laundry and unload the dishwasher.