38 weeks pregnant

I am now 38 weeks pregnant with the bean. Or shall I say the watermelon. Because even considering the amount of cheese balls and milkshakes I’ve been consuming lately, I don’t think anyone would believe something teeny-tiny is living inside this magnificent, ginormous belly.

Yes, folks. We are getting very close to meeting Baby. At Monday’s appointment, Dr Simmons announced that I am a good three, almost four, centimeters dilated, my cervix is 50% effaced and the head has dropped at least two positions in the past month. Which is pretty much where my body was with Taylor when I was checked just days before going into labor with her.

And two days ago, after a pretty active day that included working out and then walking all around three different superstores looking for birthday party favors, I got home and felt really shaky and crampy. And after a few consistent Braxton Hicks contractions, I was finally hit with a real, bona fide contraction. And it literally took my breath away. And a half hour later I had another one. And then Chris started pacing between rooms, announcing, THIS is IT! It’s gonna happen tonight. To which I responded, NO! This is nothing. This is normal. We are NOT having this baby tonight.

And my denial was wrapped around a number of things. One, I really don’t want the bean to come before Taylor’s birthday this weekend. My little Princess has been blabbering and twirling in anticipation of her big birthday and fantastic Strawberry Shortcake party for the past three months. I have ordered the cake, the balloons and have gotten everything all ready to go. If we don’t have this party this weekend, she’ll be crushed. And while I know that our children are obviously going to have their birthdays super close together, I really don’t want them to share the SAME day. You only get one special, YOU-day a year... And I want each of my munchkins to have their own, separate day to be worshipped and spoiled rotten.

The second reason I willed myself out of labor was because I am not totally done getting things ready for a newborn. In fact, when I told Chris it wasn’t happening, he looked at me funny and said, Um, Why not? And I, in all seriousness, snapped back, Because we don’t have wipes. We can’t have a baby if we don’t have WIPES! And I haven’t cleaned up and organized the changing table yet... How can we bring a baby home if we don’t have anywhere to change it’s diapers? Oh, and the dress I want to wear to the hospital is dirty. I don’t have anything to wear! And when he joked back and rolled his eyes at all my lame excuses, I shot him with my This-is-NOT-funny-because-I’m-totally-freaking-out look. And he stopped laughing and mocking me. Because he’s smart.

And the third reason I used my mind to stop the baby from coming was because after that first, hard contraction, I remembered how bad labor is going to hurt. Up until that point, I hadn’t even really thought about the actual process of delivering this baby. I had packaged all of my pregnancy-thoughts around how Taylor would handle everything, how we’re going to fit another person in our house and how I’m going to keep it together once I’m staying home full-time with TWO kids. And once my stomach twisted in half and my breath was knocked out of me, I immediately thought, Oh man, this is really going to HURT! And I flashed-back to walking through the house while in hard labor with Taylor, stopping to lean against a wall and having the intense pain radiate through my entire core that left me panting and hysterical. And this was happening in five minute intervals, and lasted about 20 hours. Woo-boy! Sometimes it’s best to forget the gory details... But having that contraction the other night brought everything back. And it scared the bejeezus out of me.

Oh, and Ruby was following, correction STALKING, me the entire time I was in false labor. She would just sit there and stare at me, like, Dude. You’re having a baby tonight. Please remember to feed me before you leave for the hospital. And the fact that she was so sketched about the whole thing really got me nervous, because the night we went into real labor with Taylor, Ruby jumped on our bed right before the first contraction and woke us up, warning us that something was about to go down.

But apparently my Jedi-mind was strong enough to postpone labor that night, and after a few hours I settled down and felt fine. And after a good night’s sleep, yesterday I spent the entire day getting everything else ready for Baby – I set up the changing table, did a million loads of laundry, bought wipes and other baby-essentials and I finished packing the hospital bags. And I pretty much avoided eye contact with Ruby the whole day.

So not only was the false labor enough to get us physically ready for Baby to come, it also forced me to get my emotions and anxiety in check. When we found out we were pregnant this past August, we were overwhelmed with the thought of having a new, amazing person join our family. And as the months have passed we have become more and more excited to meet this baby. But as with any significant, foreseeable change, our enthusiasm is coupled with fear. And I don’t want that to sound bad... But it is what it is. As thrilled as we are to have a teeny, precious baby in our arms again, we’re scared. Just like we were scared when we had Taylor. And I don’t think admitting that is wrong... I just think it’s the truth.

So here we are, just days away from bringing home Baby. And while I obviously have a million feelings and check-lists swirling through my pregnant brain, more then anything, we are really anxious to meet this little bean. And to find out if it’s a boy or a girl. And I’m so glad we waited to find out the sex until the big push, because I really do think the anticipation of seeing if it’s a he or a she is going to give me that extra boost of energy towards the end of labor. We’ve got both names ready to go, and can’t wait to meet Taylor’s new baby brother or sister and share the news with everyone.

And while I know it’s going to be a painful process to meet this little bean, just the thought of being able to smooch its face and cuddle it into my arms makes my heart race. And I know that as soon as it is placed on my chest and I wrap myself and my heart around it, all fear will be replaced with absolute love.

We are so close to meeting you, Baby, and welcoming you to our crazy, wonderful family

My mommy’s having a baby

Now that we’re in the final weeks of being pregnant, I keep thinking back to how I was feeling, both physically and emotionally, during the last month I was carrying Taylor and comparing it to how I’m feeling this go-round. Body-wise, I’m pretty miserable. And because this time I’m chasing after a toddler and unable to just sit at a desk and pretend to work, my body just aches and screams at me throughout the day. And I’m sure every pregnant woman in her ninth month can relate to this constant uncomfortableness, and longs to just have her body back. I think it’s part of the Universe’s way of prepping mothers. Yes, I will totally trade up sleep and clutch-purses to be able to see my feet and not feel like my spine is twisted like a bendy straw.

And when I was in my 37th week with Taylor, I’m pretty sure a big chunk of my thoughts were focused on labor. Because we were in the middle of finishing our childbirth class, and because I was scared to death of it. When is it going to happen? How bad is it going to hurt? How long will it last? Will I be able to follow my birth plan? You know, the typical new mom-to-be anxiety wrapped around the event you’ve been leading up to for 40 weeks.

And it’s not like I’m NOT thinking about my upcoming labor right now, it’s just not the first thing on my mind. I think back to all the prep-work Chris and I did in getting ready for Taylor’s birth, and while I’m so happy that we had poured our thoughts over every situation that might arise, I also remember how a lot of those tricks and techniques were totally forgotten as soon as the first real contraction hit. For example, when we were in our childbirth class we were told that sometimes familiar music helps relax the mood. And so Chris spent an entire day burning numerous CDs to bring into the delivery room to help soothe me in my time of need. And when we showed up to the hospital on the morning of Taylor’s birth, we had a big bag full of gear and a CD player to help us make the labor experience as easy and painless as possible. And after my water broke and the contractions started violently pushing my insides out, I ripped off my fuzzy socks, spit out my cherry-flavored lollipop and told Chris that if he didn’t turn off Chalkdust Torture at that exact moment that I was going to throw him out the fourth-floor window. And thus began the process of Just-get-this-baby-out-of-me. And then Taylor was born. And everything was perfect... Even without the labor-soundtrack playing in the background.

So even though we’re taking a more relaxed approach to this labor and delivery, that doesn’t mean that I’m not stressing out about having this baby. But not because I’m worried about having to scratch my birth plan. No, this time I am primarily worried about how Taylor is going to handle the whole situation. And this has been my major concern throughout this entire pregnancy... How is Taylor going to cope with us bringing a new baby home?

And one reason I’m concerned about the Princess being knocked off her pedestal is because, according to my parents, I was less then pleased when my sister was born. In fact, I was so upset with my mother when Libba arrived that I REFUSED to go into the hospital room and see either of them. I was pretty furious about the whole situation, and not even the shiny baby doll my dad bought on the way to meet my new sister could ease the pain of me losing the only-child status in our house.

Chris, on the other hand, was apparently the overachieving big brother when Ryan was born. You should hear his mom describe it, Chris was a perfect ANGEL. He was such a good helper and just loved his baby brother as soon as he was born. Perfect, perfect, perfect. And then he grew a magnificent set of angel wings and would fly from room to room, playing a harp, changing diapers and deep cleaning the carpet. Insert gagging noises here.

So because Taylor’s genetic code is split down the middle as to how she’s gonna handle this whole Baby-being-born event, we decided to take every opportunity available to ease the transition of her having to share the spotlight. And a few months ago I heard about a class that Asheville’s Health Adventure hosted at Mission Hospital twice a month called, My Mommy’s Having a Baby. So I signed Taylor and I up, and yesterday afternoon we adventured to the hospital to check it out.

It was just us and one other family there for the class. They had a son, Caleb, who was about a year older then Taylor. And because it was such a small group, I tried my best to make friends. And when I asked the mom if she knew if she was having a boy or a girl, her response was, Way-ell. Kay-lib been praying to Jesus for a whole yee-er foh a baby sis-tah. An our dreams came true. Itsah gurl. An we gonna name er Kay-lee. So we’s gonna have a Kay-lib and a Kay-lee. To which Caleb looked at me and pointed to his mother’s belly and said, That there’s my baby sistah. An I love er. Wow. Way to go, Caleb.

So once we got back to the actual classroom, the very nice instructor, Miss Peggy, read us all a book about a mother being pregnant and having a baby. And she would stop at certain points of the story and ask both Taylor and Caleb questions about their mother’s stomachs getting so big and what they thought the baby might want to play with when they get home. It was really cute. And Taylor kept chiming in with adorable little comments about her baby brother/sister, like, My baby already has a crib, and, My baby gonna play with my Princess dolls, and, My baby gonna sit in my lap.

And when Miss Peggy asked the kiddos who they were going to be with when Mommy and Daddy went to the hospital to have the baby, Taylor proudly announced that she was going to go to her friend Elliot’s house to play. And that she was going to bring her Cinderella costume and the new Tinkerbell toothbrush I bought her for her overnight bag. And then Caleb answered, I’s going to me Maw-maw and Paw-paw house.

After the story was over, each kid was given a giant baby doll to hold and then they were each able to color a present for their new siblings.

We then went on a mini-tour of the Mother/Baby unit at the hospital, and it was nice for me to be able to check out a room and refamiliarize myself with the layout of where I’ll be staying in a few weeks. Mission is a great hospital, and our experience there with Taylor was fantastic. And just being in one of the rooms was exciting, because I left it knowing that the next time I would be in one I would be snuggling with my new baby.

So while the class was primarily for Taylor, it was good for me too. I came home and gathered a few special items I have been collecting for her in the past few weeks – new coloring books, a few small toys – and put them in my hospital bag for when she comes to visit us and meet her baby brother/sister for the first time. And I’m sure that I’m probably putting a lot of unneeded stress on the whole situation, and that she’ll be awesome and super excited to meet her new sibling. I’m just worried about her. And I’m nervous as to how this is going to change our relationship, and how she’s going to adjust to having to share my attention with the baby. Let’s just cross our fingers and hope she follows her Daddy’s perfect big sibling example on this one, because if she’s mad or upset with me, it will break my heart. And the bank. Because I totally believe in the power of bribery, and there's enough Princess loot online to soothe any frazzled toddlers pain.

We are family, I got all my sisters with me

I was super happy to have my sister come up to Asheville for a visit this weekend. And if I was to say that I was excited for her arrival on Thursday night, then the only way to describe Taylor’s emotions in seeing her Beeba was that she was doubly, super-duper excited with cherries on top. When Lib called to say she was 15-minutes from Asheville, I told Princess T that she needed to clean up all of her toys to get ready... And she actually did. No whining, no dawdling, no begging for a candy reward. Which means seeing Aunt Beeba is sweeter prize then Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups.
 
And Friday we celebrated our guest with a fancy trip to The Biltmore Estate, thanks to a couple of free passes from my good friend, Chele. I was a bit apprehensive as to how my toddler would handle walking through the historic landmark, but then we just told her it was a Princess castle and we were on a scavenger hunt for Cinderella.

 

And on Saturday afternoon, Libba and I went to a fabulous shower for yours truly that my wonderful friend, Paige, threw for me at one of my most loved restaurants, Rezaz. It was a small gathering of eight of my favorite people, and we enjoyed an afternoon of uninterrupted chit-chat and delicious food. Oh, and a dessert tray filled with cheesecakes, key lime pies, fruit tarts, lemon bars and molten chocolate cakes. It was a fantastic party, and I feel very blessed to have such beautiful women in my life.
 

The rest of Lib’s visit was basically spent relaxing, indulging in tri-daily caloriefests, playing Barbie Girl on her iPad and watching her work her magic behind the lens. Sunday morning I put my America’s Next Top Model knowledge to work for a maternity shoot that ended with me in a white, flowing skirt and bikini top in my neighbors front yard. I was fierce, and I can’t wait to see the pictures after she’s done editing them.
 
And yesterday as we gave her big hugs before she left, it was weird to think of all the changes that are going to happen before we see her again at the end of April. Baby Amys will be here, Taylor will be three and we might possibly be living in a new house. Lots of excitement and chaos heading our way in the upcoming months, which makes me even more thankful for the fun, relaxing weekend we were able to spend with Lib before the craziness arrives.

A super long post about faith and my placenta

At our 18-week ultrasound back in November, after we listened to the tech declare over and over again that Baby Amys was developing and measuring perfectly, she noticed that my placenta was lying low and that the tip of it was covering my cervix, a condition known as placenta previa.

I had heard of placenta previa from other mothers and read about it in my pregnancy books, and it usually was accompanied by horror stories of bleeding and bedrest, so I was naturally concerned. But after talking with my doctor, she assured me that since the placenta is attached to the uterus wall, and that my uterus had a lot of growing to do in the next 22-weeks, that there was an excellent chance that it would move away from my cervix and I would be able to deliver this baby without a c-section. Because, as she informed me, all I needed was for my placenta to be at least one centimeter, preferably two, away from the birth canal for me to be able to deliver naturally. And I LOVE my doctor. And I trust her. And when she said that she’d be “shocked” if it didn’t move, I tucked all thoughts of my placenta away and just focused on our super healthy baby that I was growing inside of me.

So fast-forward to last month at my scheduled 28-week ultrasound, where I walked into my appointment confident that everything had been resolved and all bits and parts were where they should be. Because my stomach, and therefore my uterus, had grown tremendously during the previous ten weeks, so I just assumed my placenta had moved significantly away from the cervix. And then I was measured, and while it had indeed moved, it had only left a measly 0.67-centimeter space between it and my cervix. Not even a full centimeter. Not nearly enough room for me to be cleared for the natural birth I had been hoping for.

Needless to say, I was crushed. In the past ten weeks of serious belly growing, my placenta had barely moved one full centimeter. And unless it moved half a centimeter more in the next months, I would have to schedule a c-section. And while I know plenty of friends that have had all of their kids via successful cesarians, but my mind was set on having this baby in the same fashion I had Taylor. Because it’s familiar to me, and because I have never had a major surgery, so the unknown of the recovery-time while mothering two kids without family close by scared the bejeezus out of me.

And once again, my doctor talked me down off the ledge and assured me that it was still possible for all my parts to rearrange in the next few months, and that I would come back for another ultrasound at 32-weeks to measure. But I was discouraged. If it only moved such a small amount in ten weeks, what chance did I have for it to move significantly in the following four weeks.

And now I’m going to switch gears completely to something that I haven’t talked about on this blog yet. For the past five months I have been attending RCIA classes to become a Catholic. Growing up, I was baptized and confirmed Methodist, but after graduating high school and starting college, the last thing I was doing on Sunday mornings was getting up early and going to church. I never felt as if my belief in God had wavered, it just wasn’t a huge priority in my life to go to church and practice my faith.

Chris is a cradle-Catholic, and after we started dating 12 years ago and a major faith-holiday, like Christmas and Easter, would roll around, we would attend Mass together at whichever local Catholic church had the best schedule for us. When we moved to Asheville eight years ago, we sporadically attended the Basilica downtown, but with my work-schedule as a night-bartender and Chris’s as a golf pro, very rarely did we fit church in our weekend routine. But when we would get to church, I always left feeling good. I always felt recharged on so many levels. And even though I was unfamiliar with the many gestures, memorizations and other routine rituals present during a Catholic Mass, nor did I take communion, I always admired the tradition and unity that the congregation partook upon during each church service.

And after Taylor was born and our schedules shifted with Chris’s normal nine-to-five, weekends-off job, we started to become more frequent church-goers. One reason being that we realized how much we have to be lucky for, and that we needed to take any chance we could find to give thanks and remind ourselves how blessed we are. And also because we started to going to a different Catholic church in the area, St Eugene’s, which held a priest, deacon and congregation that we all found to be very warm and welcoming. We knew other people that worshipped there, and it just felt like a good place to be at. And after joining the parish at the beginning of 2009, we had Taylor baptized into the Catholic church right after her first birthday.

But even though we joined as a family, I wasn’t a full-member yet because I hadn’t converted. And when we went to Mass I joined in some of the verses and hummed most of the songs, but still held back when it was time for communion. And after another year of participating at an arm’s length, I finally decided to take the appropriate steps in becoming a Catholic. And to do that, I have been going to Mass each Sunday since late summer and also attending a weekly RCIA class. And these classes have taught me a lot. At first it was just super-duper interesting to relearn all of the history of the Bible. I hadn’t studied that subject matter since junior high confirmation classes, and to reintroduce myself to all of this awesome material as an adult was truly eye-opening. I definitely have a lot more questions, coupled with twenty extra years of life-experiences, and therefore a much better understanding of the subject matter.

I also have learned to look past a lot of the preconceived notions I had about the rigidness of the Catholic church and of other organized religions. When it comes down to it, in my eyes, it all boils down to us loving ourselves and others the way that God loves us. And it’s about forgiveness, and not judging others. And it’s about being the best possible wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor you can be. You have to be selfless and patient to fill all of those roles, and when you feel like you’re succeeding at those things, you just feel good. It’s not about following the rules and just showing up to church, you have to believe in your heart that you want to be a loving person, and then do what needs to be done to become the best version of yourself. That’s what I believe.

And I also have started to take great comfort in knowing that God has a plan for me and my loved ones. I have always been a controlling person. I like to know exactly what is going on, how it started and how it will end. And in becoming a mother I have learned to let go of a lot of that control and handle some of the unexpected pinches I am thrown with a finesse and calmness I didn’t possess three years ago. And being able to just let go of certain things really does feel good. Not having a plan, not knowing what our schedule looks like next week, not having a clue what I’m gonna make for dinner tomorrow, it’s all kind of freeing in a way. And understanding that certain things are completely out of my control, such as Ruby shedding dog hair everywhere, Taylor throwing fits when I ask her to wear pants and my neighbor parking all three of his cars in the cul-de-sac, it’s best for me to stop stressing about those things because there’s really nothing I can do about them. That’s life. They’re not harming me or others, and I just need to accept them.

So after my 28-week ultrasound and all of the disappointment that followed in that my placenta hadn’t moved enough, I started praying. A lot. And at first I basically just prayed to God to please, Please, PLEASE move my placenta. Come on, God. Just do this one thing for me. I promise I’ll be super nice to everyone and go to church every Sunday for the rest of the year. I just really don’t want a c-section or any other complications with this pregnancy. Just please do this for me.

And then last Sunday, during my RCIA class, I realized what I was doing. And sometimes it’s really hard to say, think and do the same thing. And while I was really good at telling myself and others that I was totally cool with God and his plan, I really was just trying to manipulate everything to work in my advantage. I still wanted what I thought was best. And so that night I prayed again. But this time I told God that I was willing to accept whatever he had planned with me during this pregnancy. If I had to have a cesarian, then that’s obviously the way He felt Baby Amys should enter this world. It’s out of my hands, and I just have to trust and have faith in Him that everything will work out the way it should be.

And as preachy as that sounds, it really did calm me instantly. It was like a big deep yoga breath to my soul. And yesterday when we went in for my 32-week ultrasound to check the position of the placenta, I was ready to deal with whatever we found out. As long as the bean was healthy, that was all that mattered, but I was truly expecting that nothing had changed and that we would be confronted on scheduling a c-section.

So you can only imagine the joy that radiated throughout the room when the ultrasound tech announced that my placenta had moved three – THREE! – centimeters in the past four weeks, and that there was no reason to believe I would have any complications during a natural delivery. Yes, folks. We are clear for take off. No scheduled c-sections on any calendars in this house. Baby Amys will make it’s debut whenever it feels like blessing us with it’s presence.

And even though this sudden, significant movement of my placenta should not even be termed under the same word that describes unbelievable acts such as the rescue of 33 trapped Chilean miners or other extraordinary occurrences, but I do truly believe it was a miracle. And, of course, the first thing I did after finding out the good news was silently thanked God for allowing it to happen.

30 weeks pregnant

This past week marked my 30th week of pregnancy with the bean. And according to the handy-dandy babycenter.com app I have on my phone, it says that Baby Amys is now nearly 16 inches long and weighs close to three pounds, and at my appointment last Tuesday, my giant belly was measuring right on the mark at 30-centimeters.

Wow. Look at that thing! Pretty amazing, huh? And I've still got another 10-centimeters to grow. Which is why I came pretty close to assaulting a fellow gym-goer who asked if I was due any day. Come on, People. There's a certain etiquette you're required to follow with giant, hormonal pregnant women. Learn it.

And even though the belly's right on the mark for where I'm supposed to be, I am definitely carrying this peanut different then I carried Miss Taylor, as nearly all of my maternity clothes I wore throughout her entire pregnancy stopped covering my belly about two weeks ago. It's borderline obscene. And thank goodness I don't have to worry about getting dressed to go to an office everyday, and I'm able to look super sporty in my yoga pants 24/7. People must think I'm the most active pregnant mom they've ever seen… And then they get a glimpse of my expanding fanny and thighs and start to guess the truth… That I've been sitting at home in my workout gear eating mass amounts of Fritos and Reece's Peanut Butter Cups.

And while I'm still trying to be good about breaking a sweat at least four times a week, I am totally giving into every single craving that passes through my growing body. Ham sandwiches from Jimmy Johns, Red beans and rice, Avocado burritos from Papas and Beer, ice cream sundaes with lots of peanuts, Special K bars, green grapes. I saw a slogan on a sign at some store that quoted, What's the point of counting calories when you're already fat? And I just nodded… Amen to that.

One particularly odd craving I have had for the past few weeks is for braunschweiger, which is a type of liverwurst. I'm sorry, but it's absolutely delicious. And even though it makes Chris dry-heave when he watches me eat it, I just can't get enough. And if you've never had it and are at all curious, this pregnant mama recommends it served straight up on a Ritz cracker. It's salty wonderfulness. Trust me.

So both the bean and I are growing at a noteworthy rate during this third trimester, and even though it's becoming a bit cramped in my belly, this baby is still super-duper active. And it's got a knack for feeling out all the neighboring internal organs next to my uterus and giving them a few roundhouses while I'm trying to sleep or relax. Ouch! So either Baby is already taking an interest in anatomy and going to become a future world-class surgeon, or I'm growing the next Chuck Norris in my womb.

And when it's not targeting my bladder and other inside bits, I enjoy watching this bean moving and grooving in my belly. Sometimes it looks like a tidal wave rolling across my stomach. And it particularly loves to party starting at seven at night and ending around midnight… Which I guess means I'm in for NO sleep once Baby makes it's arrival. Because if it's not sleeping inside my warm, quiet tummy, no way will it relax enough to snooze with a loud, toddler princess running around in plastic high-heeled shoes on the hardwood.

Chris and I have narrowed down our name list, and now we're just getting anxious to find out if it's a girl or a boy. I don't have any real convictions either way, but a lot of people have been telling us that they think it's a boy. But the other week when I was getting a much needed pedicure the Asian nail tech sized me up and said that it was a girl. So, there ya go.

And other then the first ten-weeks of heartburn, misery and morning sickness, this pregnancy has gone by pretty fast and has been relatively smooth sailing. Besides a few growing pains, I've been feeling really good and hope to keep that wonderfulness going for the next two months. I know I will reach a point soon where I'm just over being an enormous whale, but more then anything, I'm just so excited to formally introduce myself to this baby. And now that we're going to the doctor every two weeks, just being able to hear the heartbeat on such a regular basis makes my heart flutter with anticipation of being able to see it's face and snuggle it's warm, newborn body and kiss it's cheeks. Yes, Baby. Mama's gonna smooch those cheeks right off your face. Let's just call it payback for the swift kicks you've been delivering to my pancreas.

24 weeks pregnant

This week I entered my 24th week of pregnancy, and according to my weekly babycenter.com update the baby is just over a pound in weight and about the length of an ear of corn. And my uterus is now the size of a soccer ball. Which is coincidently how I feel when I look in the mirror - Like I'm smuggling round inflatable objects under my shirt.

So the ear of corn is getting bigger and bigger everyday, and so am I. And even though this is my second go-round with growing a human, it's still a bit alarming to watch your body being hijacked by something that weighs less then 1/15th of the weight you've gained. Yes, pregnancy is a beautiful thing and at the end of the 40-week process you produce this amazing little being that you will love more then life itself, but does this baby really need my hips and thighs to get this big? I understand that my body is now a vessel for my baby to grow in, but is it really necessary for my butt to grow so much as well?

And in a full-hearted effort to maintain the giant-ness, I have been trying to watch what I eat and making my frequent visits to the gym. Which, I'm sure is alarming to the other people working out beside me, in that the more I am there the bigger I am getting. This past month I've dedicated the majority of my cardio-time to cycling classes and the pool. And while spinning is pretty grueling, I always feel good swimming laps. But the only problem is that as my midsection keeps growing, my swimsuit is stretching tighter and tighter, pulling the neckline down to the point that Pamela Anderson might give me a disapproving look. So for Christmas I asked my Mom for a competitive two-piece to swim in, and after picking it out and having her order, wrap and send it to me, I tried it on and was completely HORRIFIED at what looked back at me in the mirror. I'm talking an offensive amount of curves popping out from all corners of the insufficient amount fabric that was trying to shield my bits and parts. I'm pretty sure the lifeguards would have had me arrested for indecent exposure if I had shown up to the pool to swim in that suit. Thank goodness Sierra Trading Post has an excellent Returns and Exchanges department. What was I thinking?

And while I have been doing my best to stay active while pregnant, Baby is definitely following suit and has been super-duper active in my belly this past month. At my 22-week appointment it kicked the microphone five times while Dr Simmons was listening to the heartbeat, and every night and morning I feel like I'm falling asleep and waking up with a tiny ninja in my belly. Baby can groove, and if it's half this active outside of my belly, Big Sister Taylor is going to have a hard time catching it when it starts grabbing her toys.

No unusual cravings or aversions this month. I'm still obsessing over citrus fruits and juices, and would rather staple objects to my forehead then eat a hamburger. The Christmastime cookies and candies were lovely, but I was really craving red wine and champagne during the holidays. Thank goodness a pregnant friend suggested Fre-brand alcohol removed wine to me, and while most people would say it just tastes like grape juice or sparkling cider, to me it is wonderfulness in a wine glass. Cheers!

And for the past few months Chris and I have been hard at work trying to narrow down our lists of baby names. We have a pretty good stock of girl names that we love and agree on, but boy names are really tough. We've combed through male family member names and online lists, but no boy names have really jumped out at us. With a girl name you can be really creative and whimsical, but try that with a boy name and it starts sounding feminine. Luckily we still have a few months to edit our options, but I have a feeling we're going to be arriving at Labor and Delivery with names still swirling in our heads.

And now that 2011 is here and spring is just around the corner, the realization that we will soon be a family of four is really starting to kick it. And I am so excited to meet this Baby. Because every time I look at Taylor and think about how wonderful and cute and sweet she is, I am overjoyed that soon we are going to have another amazing child in our lives. Another squishy baby to smother with kisses and affection. It makes me feel like both my belly and my heart are expanding in size right now, because come April I will have so much more to love and cherish that my heart might explode.

20 weeks pregnant

This week we enter my 20th week of pregnancy with Baby Amys, which means we are about to push past that half-way point in our journey to meet our new little bean. Only 20 more weeks to go. And even though that sounds like a long ways away, with the holiday season upon us I have a feeling the next four weeks are going to go by as fast as this past month. And before we know it, it’s going to be spring and we are going to become a family of four. And, to me, that is both extremely exciting and super-duper terrifying. A toddler AND a newborn. BAM! No turning back now.

So this past month has been pretty amazing – I’ve got all of my pre-pregnancy energy back, we were able to see the peanut moving and grooving during the ultrasound and I’ve been feeling it kick and punch in my belly. I can’t even describe how wonderful it feels to be able to sense it in action inside of me, and Chris was even able to feel it give me a good round-house this past weekend. And because it’s only the size of a banana, the force behind the flailing limbs is still light enough that it almost tickles, and each day I look forward to laying down during Taylor’s naptime to feel the baby boogying in my belly.

So, as you can see, the belly is definitely popped out and I’m in full-on maternity gear now. Many, many thanks to all my mama-friends that have loaned me their maternity shirts and pants to help cover my ever-growing midsection. Luckily for me, this time around I’m not dressing up to go to the office, so some – MOST! – days I keep my yoga pants on all day. Which hopefully results in a calm, zen-like newborn. Namaste, litte one.

And it’s also nice to have the non-restrictive elastic band pants on considering my appetite is back in full force. Read: I’M STARVING. All the time. And one of my current cravings is anything citrus. Last week I made lemon bars, and while they were baking I realized I was out of powdered sugar to put on top of them, so I hormonally-bullied my wonderful husband to set out onto the cul-de-sac with an empty measuring cup. I’ve also been consuming about ten clementine oranges a day, so I guess you could say I’m good for my daily dose of vitamin C.

And because Baby is in constant conversation with my brain telling it to put something delicious in my mouth, my diaper bag now contains two snack-pouches – One for me and one for Taylor. And if I ever get separated from my kitchen or snack-bag and become hungry, WATCH OUT. My body will start shaking, smoke will billow from my ears and I can not be held responsible for anything that comes out of my mouth. Mama needs food pronto. So if you decide to hang out with me in the next few months, do us both a favor and stuff a few treats in your pockets. Preferably something citrus.

The only sort of hiccup we’ve had this month are the growing pains, or round ligament pains. Basically the ligaments that hold my uterus in place are stretching and pulling to support my new girth, resulting in sporadic, sharp aches and pains around my belly-region. Totally normal, and I remember having this same soreness while pregnant with Taylor. It’s not completely crippling, but just pretty darn uncomfortable.

So other than a few belly pains and hunger episodes, this past month of pregnancy was very tame. Which, after the first few months of total sickness, having very little to report is just fine with me. Let’s hope the next 20 weeks are just as relaxed, because once Baby arrives I know my life is going to become considerably more exciting. Lots and lots of action arriving to the Amys house this spring. And we can’t wait.

Thumb sucker

Yesterday afternoon I had my 18-week ultrasound for Baby Amys and am delighted to report that our baby is absolutely perfect. The spine, organs, limbs and every other teeny-tiny bit and part is developing wonderfully and we’re right on schedule for it’s April arrival.

And because I’ve been starting to feel it’s little kicks and punches in the past few days, I was so pumped to be able to watch the little bean in action and see the feet that have been poking me. We even caught a glimpse of Baby sucking it’s thumb:

Not the clearest picture, but the torso is on the left and you can see the profile of the head on the right, and above it is the arm and you can barely see the hand reaching to the mouth. Ah, my healthy little thumb sucker. Better start saving for braces.

In which we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of pleasing the princess

So last week my friend Katie and her kiddos came over for a playdate. A Princess playdate to be specific, as Katie’s two year old, Delaney, was also Cinderella for Halloween. And because Taylor starts every morning asking, Can I wear my princess costume please?, I asked Katie to also dress up Delaney so we could get another use out of the sparkly, blue costume before the bottom is completely frayed. Oh, and also so I could get a few cute pictures of the Cinderellas.

And other than Princess Delaney, Katie also brought her two adorable seven-month old twins, Dan and Mackenzie. And while I was playing with Dan and Katie was holding Mackenzie, I held up the bouncing baby boy and had the following conversation with my daughter:

Me: Hey, Taylor. Did you know that we are going to have a baby like Dan and Mackenzie soon?

T: Yeah. But just ONE.

Me: Yes, that’s right. (As I thanked Jesus under my breath) Now, do you want a baby brother like Dan, or a baby sister like Mackenzie?

T: (Without hesitation) I want one like her. (Pointing to Mackenzie) NOT like him. (Pointing to Dan)

Me: Well, Dan is super fun too. Brothers are a lot of fun!

T: NO, Mom! I want one like HER! (Pointing to Mackenzie)

What a good hostess I raising, huh? And even though Katie and I laughed it off a bit, when I told Chris about it and we asked Taylor again if she wanted a brother or sister, she emphatically chirped, SISTER! I wanna GIRL like Mackenzie.

Oh, and don’t think we didn’t turn on our super-enthusiastic parent voices and start talking about baby brothers. Taylor, did you know that both Mommy AND Daddy have little brothers? And they’re the BEST. We LOVE our little brothers. To which she would just shake her head and say, No. I have a SISTER.

So basically we have five more months to convince Taylor how much fun it would be to have a brother, only to possibly come home from the hospital with a sister. And because Chris was the one who graduated with the psychology minor, I’m gonna put him in the driver’s seat with this one. Good luck, Dad.

16 weeks pregnant

I had my 16-week appointment this week, and am very happy to report that all is perfectly wonderful with the baby in my belly. Taylor tagged along with me, and she was able to help Dr Simmons hold the microphone when we heard Baby’s heartbeat. She is already taking on the role of the helpful big sister, and I’m crossing my fingers that she’s this enthusiastic about Baby when it arrives.

I also opted to get a quad-screen done, which is a test that I had done when I was pregnant with Taylor. And for those of you unfamiliar with this test, it’s an elective procedure that’s performed early on to detect any sort of chromosomal disorders in the fetus. And I’m overly happy and relieved to report that all the blood work came back negative, which means Baby’s perfect. And in two weeks we’ll be able to see the little peanut swimming in my belly during our 18-week ultrasound. And even though we are waiting for the big push to find out whether it’s a boy or girl, I am so excited to see it’s little arms and legs grooving inside of me.

And even though I know the Baby is moving around inside of me now, I have yet to feel any kicks or punches. Well, I may have. But I’m pretty sure those movements were a result of the armadillo eggs I ate at Rubles a few weeks ago. And because I haven’t been feeling any movement, and because I have been feeling SO MUCH BETTER, it’s hard to even remember that I am pregnant sometimes. Other than the fact that I have to keep my jeans fastened with a rubber band.

And as far as my weight goes, I really haven’t gained that much so far. Which I know has a lot to do with the fact the only things I could consume for the first two months were applesauce and grape-flavored Gatorade. And while I was a bit worried about my weigh-in this appointment, being that I ate my way through eight states and housed an entire pan of Special K bars, the scales must have been jacked at my doctor’s office because it had me LOSING a pound this past month. Which I wasn’t going to argue with. Especially with Thanksgiving and Christmas right around the corner.

No unusual cravings so far. At this point with Taylor, I was devouring egg salad sandwiches and Fritos at an alarming pace. But I’ve been trying to stick to a relatively healthy, normal diet so far. The one thing that always sounds good to me are pickles. Call me Snooki. And I know it’s so cliche, but the pregnant mama can house a whole jar of pickles in record time. It got so ridiculous that I just conceded and bought the restaurant-size tub of Clausen Spears for our fridge. And tonight when I was ordering my sub sandwich for dinner and informed the teenage boy behind the counter to not be stingy with the pickles, he shot me a weird look and I responded by pointing to my stomach and saying, My Baby wants pickles.

And now that my appetite and energy have returned, I have been getting back into my daily workout routine. And even though I’m not pushing myself through half-marathon training anymore, I’ve been trying to keep my body in shape with spinning classes, cardio and swimming laps. For the first two months, working out sounded pretty close to torture, but I drug myself to the gym just to get out of the house at least twice a week. And the ONLY thing that my body would tell me it liked was swimming laps. So I’m pretty sure I’m growing the next Michael Phelps in my belly. Or a mermaid. Either way, I’ll love it unconditionally.

And even though I still get tired pretty easily, I am no where near as exhausted as I was during the first trimester. Still, I am habitually taking advantage of Taylor’s daily two-hour snoozefests to lay down and either read or nap myself. I’ll have the rest of my life to catch up on housework and laundry, and I know I only have a few more months left of scheduled quiet time before our world is turned upside down.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to get my hands on Baby and try to put it’s newborn cheeks in my mouth, but I am all too familiar with an infant’s unpredictable routine and know that I need to savor these next months as much as I can. Wow. Two sets of cheeks to devour. I can’t wait.

From heartburn to a heartbeat – My first trimester

So if you’re just tuning in, let me recap my previous post – I’M PREGNANT. Knocked up. With child. Baby on board. Yes, we are super thrilled to be adding to our family. And, DUDES, it has been so hard for me not to spill the beans these past months. But hearing all the horror stories and cautionary tales out there, we just felt it was right to make our big, blogging announcement after we heard Baby’s heartbeat. And last week at our 12-week appointment we finally heard it... That fast, strong, wonderful heartbeat that starts to make everything really real. We are having another baby.

And while it was never a question that Chris and I have always wanted to add to our brood and have a bigger family, but after nearly a year of trying to conceive Miss Taylor, you can say we were a bit shocked when we saw that blazing pink line after our second month of not not-trying.

And I’m not even kidding you, two days after finding out the bean was in my body, I became sick as a dog. SICK. AS. A. DOG. And I don’t ever remember being this sick with Taylor. I mean, I had bouts of morning sickness and exhaustion here and there, but nothing as severe as I had these first months. So if you were at all curious as to why I only posted four blog posts in September, it was most likely because I was alternating my time between having my head in the toilet and feeling like I was stapled to the couch. And I can remark upon it with humor now that that fabulous second-trimester energy is taking over, but at the time it was pretty awful. But THANK GOODNESS for Disney Channel, Nickelodeon and Sprout, and giant coloring books, Play-doh, and building blocks. Because keeping my two-year old occupied while feeling like doo-doo would have been impossible without all of that artillery.

And on top of the around-the-clock nausea and fatigue, I had heartburn absolutely radiating through my body at levels comparable to the surface of the sun. Which made it pretty much impossible for me to consume anything other than applesauce, baked potatoes, string cheese and purple-flavored Gatorade. And that’s why I actually LOST weight in the first few weeks of being pregnant. I mean, not even ice cream sounded good. And that’s pretty much the same as Taylor refusing gummie snacks. Not natural.

And I know what you might be saying now, that because this pregnancy is so different than when I had Taylor in my belly that I might be having a boy. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. And when I say WAIT, that’s what I mean, because we’re totally waiting until the big push to find out the gender. And we’re not just doing this to torture the grandparents, Chris and I talked about it and feel like you don’t get many big surprises in life, and this is going to be one of them.

So the first four weeks came and went, I had my initial doctor’s appointment and saw the sea monkey swimming in my belly. And even though this is our second time around, it was still truly amazing to watch the flutter of it’s itty-bitty heart, the outline of the spine and the beginnings of the arms and legs. It really makes you sit back and realize how truly miraculous this whole process of life is. Because at that moment, actually SEEING this baby inside my body and then going home and being able to squeeze my precious two year old, I am reminded how truly blessed Chris and I are with these two, amazing miracles.

And it may sound corny, but seeing that heartbeat during the eighth-week really made the morning sickness and exhaustion and indigestion seem worth it. And for the past month the nausea, fatigue and heartburn has become much more manageable, almost routine in a way. If that’s how I have to start my day – Oh well! If my body forces me to take an hour nap every afternoon – I can think of worse ways to spend my time. And if this Baby doesn’t want me to eat fried chicken or spicy bean dip – Well, let’s just say I have another six months to indulge in calories. See, I’m done complaining. Because if the end result of this first trimester is another prize like Taylor, then I can’t complain about this process of motherhood at all. Yep. No more whining, no more pouting and no more feeling sorry for myself. Well, at least until they are both teenagers.

Taylor's BIG announcement

Little brother/sister to arrive mid-April.

The final countdown

At our 39-week appointment yesterday, my doctor brought up inducement. Leading into this, Chris & I were pretty hesitant to induce - Baby will come when she’s ready. But after talking about all the post-due date tests and then looking at my swollen feet, we decided that a gentle nudge of modern medicine isn’t going to hurt anything. My due date is Monday, April 14th, and if Baby is still reluctant to make her debut, we scheduled for inducement on the 18th. It was kind of like making a reservation at the spa or a hotel - Do you have anything available on the 18th? Yes. What time? We have a 7.00a, with check-in at 6.00a. Be sure to bring something comfortable to wear, meals are provided and we‘ll pencil in a check-out time of 24-48 hours after delivery. Oh yeah, you’ll be leaving with your BABY.

Now the irony of making the appointment makes us feel like it’s definitely going to happen before then… Please, God, let this happen SOON. My doctor also feels like it could happen at any time. I have been having contractions, and last night they came every ten minutes for an hour and then stopped. My body is progressing - I am now FOUR centimeters dilated and my cervix is 60% effaced. My doctor’s exact words were, Wow, you’ve got a great cervix for labor. And that’s, honestly, the first time I’ve ever gotten that compliment. And now I’m all, Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got a GREAT cervix. Jealous?

I don't think you're ready for this belly

After suffering through the first trimester, we thought it might be fun to start taking photos of my rapidly growing tummy. Every week I would stand in front of the fireplace and display my progress. I’m not going to make you suffer through the belly gallery, but I will share with you the first and last photos from this project, which pretty much shows my gut going from barely showing to almost ready to explode.

When I go back to the first weeks we started taking pictures, I want to say to the woman in the picture, Yeah, look how HUGE you are. Eat something for goodness sake! And then all of the sudden there is this enormous belly that makes me squint really hard just to figure out that, yes, it is attached to my body. And, yes, I am definitely growing a baby in there. Which is, of course, the excuse I use for all of the weight gain, that it was the baby and not all of those ice cream sundaes I ate.

Future stroller club member

When I found out I was pregnant in early August, my good friend Paige was entering her second trimester and another friend, LeAnn, was due to give birth to her daughter at the end of the month. I had no idea what I was getting into and was lucky enough to have both of these wonderful friends a phone call away to answer really embarrassing questions and let me know that, yes, it’s completely normal for your body to do that during pregnancy.

It was a huge bonus being able to go through pregnancy with a friend. Paige & I indulged in mint chocolate chip ice cream and sour balls, socialized with O’Douls and sparkling cider, made fun of everyone else in our water yoga class and took lots of walks where the only things we would discuss were impending-labor, our fat ankles and how cute our babies are going to be. It was also a great advantage being three months behind Paige, to watch her belly grow, to hear about her labor and childbirth experience and, of course, to mooch off all of her cute maternity clothes now that she’s skinny again.

Unlike Chris & I, Paige and her husband, Danny, were able to wait until the birth to find out the sex of their baby. Paige was convinced it was a boy, and when I found out Baby Amys was a girl, we were pretty certain Baby Scully was going to be wearing blue. I was carrying high, Paige was carrying low. I had morning sickness, Paige didn’t. My baby’s heartrate was high, Paige’s baby’s was low. We were all pretty surprised when Miss Elliot JoAnn Scully made her debut, and when Danny sent the It’s a girl! announcement my heart fluttered with excitement. Pink tutus, pigtails and princesses… this is going to be so much fun!

It has been amazing to watch Rell and Elliot grow in the past months, and if I am blessed with a baby half as sweet and beautiful as both LeAnn and Paige’s girls then I will be over the moon. I’m really looking forward to watching our three divas grow up together. I’m already picturing future birthday parties – Rell’s at the pool, Elliot’s at the skate palace and Baby Amys with the bouncing castle and pony rides. And, as the picture shows, Elliot’s already pretty jealous about the pony thing. Sorry, Elliot, we’ll have fun doing the limbo at your party… Spring birthdays RULE!

At a standstill

We had our 37-week doctor’s appointment yesterday and, after last week’s progression, I was hoping she would just usher us out the door and right to the hospital delivery room after the exam. No such luck. I’m still three-centimeters dilated and she has dropped a little, but still no reason to think that this is going to happen any sooner than the 14th. Really? Um, I’m kind of ready to have this baby NOW. I mean, it’s been fun being pregnant for the past nine months and all, but we’re very much ready to meet our baby girl and I’m totally over having to pee every five minutes.

On the brighter side of things, my blood pressure is back to normal. Which is a good thing for Chris, because he was seriously dreading monitoring my potato chip intake. Especially now that I’m the heavyweight of the house.

Labor Tunes

In our childbirth class we have been discussing relaxation techniques to deal with the pain in the first stages of labor. Our instructor mentioned taking a bath, walking around the room, having your partner massage your back, focusing on a photograph and, of course, the hee-hee-hee-hoo breathing patterns. She also mentioned that some women like to bring in soothing music to help with the pain of contractions, and that music helps your breathing tempo and keeps your energy up.

Now everything I’ve read points to classical music as the labor-tunes of choice, but Chris and I are going into this with a different approach. I’m looking at labor as a long-distance race – hopefully a 5k, not a marathon! – and since I was running a lot when we found out I was preggers, maybe we could incorporate some songs from my training playlist into a childbirth playlist. We could start off with the warm-up songs for the first stages of contractions, ie: Into the Mystic, Billy Breathes, Brokedown Palace. I personally find Van Morrisson just as relaxing as Mozart. Once the active labor begins I feel a boost of energy will be needed. We thought about it over the weekend and compiled a short list of motivating songs that include Chalkdust Torture, Fee, some Led Zepplin and Rolling Stones. Basically all of the songs that make you want to drive fast when your hear them. Please note that none of the Rocky theme songs will be included on the list of inspirational tunes. The last thing I want is for Baby Amys to be born with Eye of the Tiger being playing in the background.

This just adds to the long list of responsibilities Chris holds during the big day: Keeping me relaxed, comfortable and sane, communicating with all of the doctors and nurses, making game-time decisions, cutting the cord and, now, Labor DJ. We’ve got a good start on what songs we want, but how we are going to listen to them is another issue in itself. All of our music is on our computer and our IPods, and I doubt the Labor & Delivery unit at Mission Hospital has a banging system available. If they have a CD player, then we’ll just burn everything onto discs. What if there’s just a cassette player? I’ll have to go back to my high-school days and make a mixed tape. Then I’d have to take masking tape and a Sharpie, title the mix Labor Tunes, with one side labeled Dilating and the other labeled Pushing.

Nesting Phase

All week long I had been a bit scroogy about Easter because I thought that Chris was going to be at the club all Sunday. I was so happy that he made a few changes to the schedule and was able to have the day off - Yea! We went to church this morning, ate a fabulous homemade brunch of pancakes and bacon and then worked our tails off on the nursery. We cleaned out closets, washed onesies and receiving blankets, stained bookshelves and organized all of the many wonderful baby gifts we have received from all of our overly-generous family and friends.

About four years ago I found a book of nursery rhyme posters at a boutique shop in Biltmore Village. It was vintage and unlike anything I had ever seen. Even though the thought of babies hadn't crossed our minds yet, I bought it for a shower gift and ended up never using it. I rediscovered it earlier this year, had the posters framed and - viola! - Princess Amys has a stylish nursery. We still have a bit more to do with the room, but I wanted to share the progress. Please note that the role of Baby Amys will be played by Piggadillo throughout this nursery reenactment.

Getting anxious for her debut

I had my weekly doctor’s appointment yesterday afternoon and was surprised to find out that I am already going through the stages of pre-labor. Baby Amys has not dropped yet, but I am close to three-centimeters dilated. So, what does that mean? According to my doctor, it just means we are getting a head-start on delivery and that it is very normal for women to dilate in the weeks leading up to birth. More importantly, he stressed, it doesn't mean that I will be going into labor any sooner than expected and that we are still looking at the 14th as my due date. According to the manic, compulsive voice in my head, it means that this weekend we are going to be finishing the nursery, packing the hospital bags and charging our camera batteries. This baby-thing is really going to happen, and I need to stop wasting my free-time reading tabloid magazines and get ready for her debut. Last night I read and re-read every birth book in the house and, of course, they all echoed my doctor. They also mentioned something called the nesting phase, which details a strong desire to complete all baby preparations before the baby arrives. Sounds familiar.

The doctor also mentioned that my blood pressure spiked a bit this week. Nothing to be alarmed about, especially since I pigged-out on 12 Bones barbeque a few hours before the appointment, but it was higher than it has been throughout the entire pregnancy. I was given a slight slap on the wrist and told to cut back on salty foods, which is going to be a lot harder than it sounds. You would think, considering my pre-pregnancy cravings, I would be a slave to the cocoa bean and ice cream while preggers. Not so much. I have been loving on pickles, chips, crackers, dry-roasted nuts and anything thing else salty. Not anymore. So long, Fritos and Pringles… We had a good run. I promise this is not goodbye forever.

Cankles

Last weekend we celebrated my dear friend Chele’s birthday. We went out for sushi and I wore my sassy red heels for the occasion. Somewhere between the seaweed salad and my tempura asparagus roll, my feet and ankles decide to grow a few sizes. Was it the soy sauce? The heels? The six pound fetus in my belly? Whatever the culprit, the damage is done. I can no longer fit into any of my cute shoes and have officially retired my beloved Frye boots to the closet. It looks like someone inflated both of my legs below the knees with an air compressor. Oh well. At least we are heading into flip-flop season and, let's be honest, finding my feet is like a scavenger hunt at this point.