Stress and My Reaction to it (i.e. alcohol)

I noticed a long time ago that I have two reactions to stress.

1. Eating (okay, drinking too)
2. I completely and utterly shut down

I have this terrible habit of doing absolutely nothing when I feel overwhelmed. Like, lay in bed with Bravo and a beer for hours on end. That sort of "nothing." It is just about the stupidest reaction in the world but it's my go-to coping mechanism. It usually lasts about a week and then the panic really sets in. At that point I end up making a list of all the things overwhelming me and start checking them off one by one as I clear them out of the way. You'd think it would make more sense to just skip the slacking and drinking and head straight to the list, wouldn't you?

As you can maybe imagine, the entire month of October has been a nightmare. Minus booze. So like, a complete and utter terror from which there is no waking. I got so far behind on my business, added on to that a crap load of baby stress and the stress of finishing up a million projects at my 8-5 job. I spent the first two weeks of the month gently rocking myself in a corner and the last two weeks busting my ass. Looking back on it, it's probably not a route I would take twice but I'm almost done digging my way out. I still have an entire wedding to edit before giving birth AT ANY MOMENT and a stack of stuff to mail out, then I'm dunzo. All that's left after that is birthing and caring for another human being for the next eighteen years. Piece of fucking cake.

38 Weeks

Okay, this shit is starting to get old. I really wish I could take the next two weeks off from everything and spend 14 days in bed, in Matt's pajamas. (Mine don't exactly fit anymore.) Aside from the unimaginable excitement to meet my baby, there is absolutely nothing fun about being a full-term pregnant woman.

It takes an 8 point maneuver to get out of bed to pee (3 times) in the middle of the night. I have to grab a hold of my pant leg at the ankle to hoist my leg up in order to put on my shoes. I then usually need Matt's help taking my shoes back off. My belly is so low now that I can't cross my legs or even put my knees together. Therefore, I waddle. Um what else... I sweat a lot. My skin is always dry. 60% of my day is spent in a Braxton Hicks contraction, which doesn't hurt by the way but does seriously test your bladder control. I won't tell you any of the gross stuff... I'll let you all experience that out for yourselves when that time comes.

But on a good note, I have yet to develop a single stretch mark and my boobs are ginormous and perky. Too bad they're not at all sexy right now. A great rack attached to a 9 months pregnant woman just doesn't pack the same punch anymore. It's a shame, really. Women pay good money for boobs the size of mine right now.

Matt came home today from a 10 day tour. I tried my hardest to be lazy while he was gone. I was afraid of nesting too hard and giving the baby some false sense of well-being in the outside world. I wanted him to continue thinking it was a disaster out here so he'd stay put until Matt was within a 20 minute range from me. And now that he's home I am a mad frenzy of babyness. I washed and sterilized bottles, pacifiers, anything that goes in a baby's mouth. I laundered all the cloth diapers. I put sheets on the crib. I lined the changing table with shelf paper. Oh god, how I love shelf paper. I want to cover my entire house in it.

We're pretty much ready to go! Well, except for not having a hospital bag packed and not having the car seat safely secured in the car. So obviously I don't mean "ready to go" in the literal sense. We are literally not ready to go to the hospital to have a baby. But we are more or less prepared in the event that that happens sometime prior to our given due date. What do I really need for the hospital anyway? Pajamas, a toothbrush and my iPad. Bamm, done packing the bag. And we can just chuck the car seat in the trunk and figure it out in the parking garage when they release us.

I am going to be such a great mom.

Is It a Sin to Put Diapers in a $3000 Bag?

I'm a little anti-diaperbag. No offense to diaper bags and the folks who carry them but I prefer something a little flashier, a little less practical. A little more, "Hey, look at me and my ridiculous bag!"

Here are a few giant satchels I found that I really love. They range in price from $2900 to $70.

Yes. That is correct.



The top left is a $2900 Nancy Somethingorother from Berdorf's and the top right is a $1400 Prada. They are gorgeous. But areyoufreakingkiddingme? Are they lined with hundred dollar bills? Besides, if I bought a Prada bag and carried it with a head-to-toe Target outfit people would assume it's fake. I might as well save myself $1350 and buy a $50 fake Prada on ebay if I'm going that route. (Major Sex and the City flashback right there.)

I'm leaning heavily toward the dotted one in the middle. It's completely insane looking but I really like it. Plus it's gigantic and I could probably fit everything I need into it, including my baby.

We're pretty much done getting all the actual baby stuff we need. Now I'm just buying fun stuff because I'm excited for this kid to get here already. And then once he's here I'll say to myself, "Why did I think I would ever leave the house again after giving birth? I should have saved that bag money for diapers and booze."

Progress, Folks!

I wanted to share a photo from a wedding I shot last weekend. The setup was the idea of the bride and her maid-of-honor and at first I thought, "Whoa, holy cheese city." But the photo turned out pretty damn cute. But most importantly, I took this photo in a bar bathroom, with no light, with a flash and it actually looks good! A year ago, there's no way I could have pulled that off!

Happy 2nd!

Today is our second anniversary. It kind of feels like two years, and it kind of doesn't. Our marriage has been pretty easy going so far. We don't fight over things that aren't worth fighting over and we honestly love each other more now than when we got married. I'm also completely smitten with the fact that we're creating a miniature version of ourselves mashed into one body. It's so bizarre and so sweet at the same time. :)

We're In the Single Digits!

Photo by Tim Tab - Taken at our Colorado workshop a few weeks ago

Sometimes when my stomach bubbles and lurches involuntarily, I forget that I'm pregnant and I think it's a raging case of intestinal distress. I think, "WTF did I eat for lunch?" and then remember that it's not something I ate, it's something I'm growing. Although if it were something I ate, it would probably be a lot easier to get out.

And that brings us to...

Less than eight weeks left until my due date, but probably more than eight weeks left until I actually give birth. I've been reading a lot lately, and it turns out that due dates are pretty unscientific. The most accurate dates are the ones guessed at within 6 to 7 weeks of conception. (So my actual due date might be closer to November 3rd.) The accuracy dwindles from there. Supposedly, labor is started by your baby when his lungs are done developing. He releases a hormone that initiates labor. Technically, this doesn't take 40 weeks. It can take anywhere from 37 to 42. So, when your doctor pinpoints your 40 week due date, you can go anywhere from three weeks early to two weeks late and still have a normal term pregnancy. Isn't that great news!

I swear that there should be some sort of post-high school health class for women. This pregnancy thing is such a damn mystery in our culture. We're all taught to believe that birth is on par with having your appendix removed. You make an appointment, go to the hospital, and the doctors fix you. Our active role in labor and delivery has been removed. We're taught to be patients and not women giving birth. It seems so wrong. Women should be given more respect than that. Whether you give birth without any drugs at all, or you have a c-section, there are still so many things you can do to advocate for yourself and your baby to have a great experience. It's okay for you to be in control. I wish women were told that at some point in their lives. Instead, we get movies and TV shows that portray women giving birth who are wild with terror and franticly rushing through hospital corridors, pleading for a doctor to dope them up, yelling at their partners for having penises, etc.

Give me a fucking break. We're better than that.

30 weeks!

I am now officially more than 75% done gestating. I am looking forward to Starbucks and a beer. I've already researched how to safely integrate caffeine and booze back into my diet while breastfeeding.

And that's the end of the breastfeeding talk on this blog. Talking about it creeps me out.

My midsection is freakishly huge. Week by week I have fewer clothes that can cover it. I think I'm down to 6 shirts, 3 skirts, 2 pairs of pants and maybe 4 dresses. 40 years ago that would be an entire wardrobe, but today it's a dire situation. A crisis. Especially since 1/2 of the clothes make me look like a fat fatty and I hate wearing them. I was complaining to my parents about it and I said that I don't want to buy anymore giant clothes to get through the rest of my pregnancy since I only have 10 weeks left. My dad so kindly pointed out, "Well, it's unlikely that you're going to get any smaller between now and then." True, Dad. Very true.

So I start looking for more clothes that fit. And I come across a few maternity things that I can live with, but wait. What's that? Oh crap it's a really awesome leather jacket on clearance that might fit me again by the time we hit 2011. Should I spend $60 on maternity clothes or $60 on a clearance leather jacket that was $300?? The leather jacket will last me a lot longer than 10 weeks.

And now I own a leather jacket.

These are not the actions of a woman who should be preparing for the eminent arrival of a money sucking baby. The price of daycare alone is enough to give me the vapors. But this is the last time in my life that I don't have to put someone else's needs and wellbeing ahead of my own. I have eighteen years of my child's expenses on the horizon so you damn well better believe I bought the jacket.

Speaking of spending money on stuff I shouldn't...

2011 is shaping up to be a really good year for my photography business. I have seven weddings booked and five more contracts out waiting to be signed. The summer is going to be completely chaotic but having real live money in my pocket for the first time since buying a house is going to be great. We might actually have the funds to replace our crapalicious windows and maybe, just maybe, turn the world's scariest laundry room toilet into an honest to goodness bathroom. Oh how I dream...

I finally hit my groove with weddings. They don't completely terrify me anymore. Stressful, yes. Terrifying, no. My skill level has improved a lot over the last four or five too. The biggest thing I had to teach myself was that I am hired by the wedding couple to do a job. I shouldn't worry about whose way I might be in. I was always so preoccupied with being inconspicuous throughout the whole day that I wasn't getting the best shots. Now, I'm not afraid to walk up to the head table and snap a couple photos during toasts. I'll step out on the dance floor during the first dance and get a nice closeup. I'm certainly more confident with what I'm doing. It's made a huge difference.

My dream is still to be able to book an entire year, maybe 25 weddings, and be able to quit my office job. It's going to be tough but I really love doing this. I think I have the ability to make it within the next couple of years. I would love nothing more than to be able to stay home with my kid during the week and still have an awesome, creative career. And then when my kid is old enough to go to school I can hang out all day in my pajamas drinking coffee.

Hell. Yes.