three musketeers

I had another ultrasound yesterday, and while I was there I learned that this already adorable (Look at that puckered mouth! That upturned nose!) albeit alien-like creature is a....


...'nother boy! We're on a roll, three for three. Our third musketeer.

I've actually known for some weeks now that this was another boy. At my last ultrasound, at 12 weeks, I caught a glimpse of his nether regions, which, even though it was early, looked suspiciously male. I will admit that on that day I shed a few tears as I stared at the screen, watching the baby I was convinced (since this pregnancy has been so vastly different from my other two) was a girl. But I was surprised at how okay I was when the technician gave me the official verdict yesterday. I supposed I've had time to come to terms with it, and honestly, in the last few weeks I've felt an incredible peace with the way our family is taking shape. We already have two really sweet boys; I wouldn't mind another one like them. Also, it's been reassuring to know that we already have a name picked out (which likely won't be widely revealed until his birth); boy names have always been difficult for Blake and I to agree on.

Garrett is still coming to terms with the fact that he's getting another brother; he was really hoping for a girl ("I reary want a girl cuz I reary want a girl cuz I reary want a girl!"). His biggest concern is that another boy would only be bent on tearing apart the train tracks he spends so much time meticulously building. Really, though, once this baby reaches the age where he is moving around and disrupting things in his path, it'll be Caleb who I'm sure will be the most put out. He, on the other hand, is oblivious to what is coming; whenever the subject of "the baby" comes up, he runs to grab his dolly, sure that that's what we were referring to.

The baby is measuring more than a week bigger than his gestational age. I'm not sure what this will mean in the long run, but just in case (and also because of my previous experiences), I'm gearing up for him to come early.

As for me, at 17 weeks I'm finally starting to look pregnant, though only just. My height and long torso have a way of hiding things until later in the game. I finally had to pull out the maternity clothes last week. But even though I might look small, it doesn't mean that I'm not feeling it. Growing a human is an exhausting endeavor! I crash every night just as soon I've tucked the boys into bed. The nausea is mostly, though not completely, gone. It's getting difficult to sleep, thanks to a growing difficulty to move and the charlie horses that spring up if I'm not careful. Unlike past pregnancies, this time I'm dealing with a lot of round ligament pain and pinched nerves, which have been manageable but obnoxious.

And very much like past pregnancies, I am again plagued by Braxton-Hicks contractions. With Garrett I started getting them around 30 weeks, with Caleb they began in the middle of the second trimester. I was warned by a nurse that they would likely begin even earlier this time around, which they indeed have. I've already been dealing with them for several weeks, though they thankfully have not yet become as debilitating as I know they will be. Contrary to what the textbooks tell you, my contractions are induced by movement, and getting up to take a walk doesn't help to make them go away. So partly because of the way my body handles it, and partly because of our Brooklyn lifestyle, pregnancy for me is both a delight and a torment. On the plus side, though, all the false contracting my body does throughout pregnancy has typically meant a faster delivery when it comes time for the real thing, and that is something I will never complain about, no matter how frightening and intense those last moments are.

Also on a more pleasant note, I've started to feel movement. It's still small, and I have to be paying close attention to notice it, but it's definitely there, and it more than makes all the discomfort and trouble worthwhile and gratifying.