Ahh, the fine art of the Baby Registry.  For those of you uninitiated folks out there, FYI: Babies R Us can be a scary scary place.    At least it's always been highly overwhelming for me.  Dave and I made a trek there a few weekends ago to begin the process of registering for Baby Horne.  Imagine, a whole wall covered with just bottles and nipples and the like.  That store really makes you think you can never ever have too much for your little bundle of joy.  To start, they give you a "must have" registry list of top items to get and, if you so wish, you can even scan a bar code and it'll register the whole catalog for you!  Who needs all that stuff?  I sincerely hope we don't. 

In any case, it was an interesting but exhausting day to say the least.  We were pretty productive though.  Dave operated on the premise that scanning items with their little gun was fun, so he scanned about everything in the store, knowing we could delete things online later.  As for me, I was completely overwhelmed with my simple lack of baby vocabulary.  I mean honestly, what's the difference between a lap pad and a receiving blanket and a burp cloth?  They all look like pieces of material to me, albeit different sizes.  The internet has been fabulous though, with all its online dictionaries, and now I know that I can either wrap Baby H. in A) a receiving blanket, or B) a cute little duckie hoodie towel post-bath.  I'm going for option B. 

We did decide on a stroller though.  Turns out there are only two strollers in the grand scheme of affordability that have adjustable-height handles.  Most strollers are made for "the average 5'5" woman".  Go figure.  Average height I am not.  So, that left us with limited options, one of which, the helpful sales rep assured us, is "the Lexus of strollers" (a Chicco), and the other of which is "the Cadillac" (Peg Perego).  We chose the Cadillac, as, in wheeling said strollers around the store and attempting to fold them up, we realized that the Lexus drove instead like a Mack truck and was about as heavy.  We'd have to give Baby H. some serious wide berth in that thing.  So, weighing in at a cool 16 lbs. and with a one-hand fold up option, we chose the Peg Perego Pliko3.  It comes highly recommended (my brother and sister-in-law have one and love it), and Dave actually just found it online for a steal.  In a few days we will be the proud new owners of our first major baby item.  Time for a reality check?

Here's a question for all you currently-preggo or once-upon-a-time preggos out there...   Did you find yourself getting excessively worried about the most random would-never-in-a-million-years-happen type of things?

I have recently found myself in just such a predicament.  Seriously, it's quite neurotic.  I'm trying to chalk it up to a simple influx of crazy hormones, but it's pretty annoying.  Like if I don't get ahold of Dave on the phone when I expect him to answer, I'm positive he's lying on the side of a road crashed in a ditch somewhere, never to be heard from again.  Or, when I took a trip to see my friend Shannon a couple weeks ago, I was sure the plane would take off, and then come crashing right back down.  And, the other day, when Baby H. did a tap dance on my cervix, I was sure pre-term labor was right around the corner.   Turns out Baby just wanted to boogie.  And I frequently dream odd, worrisome baby-scenarios.  When did I become so Doom and Gloom?  When do I get to dream all the warm and snuggly happy baby dreams? 

I do realize this is all just crazy talk, and the chances of any of this happening is slim-to-none, which is why I'm going with the Hormone Theory.  And no, I am not spending the bulk of my days in a deep, dark depression (Mom, stop worrying); these are for the most part fleeting thoughts.  I just wish they wouldn't come at all.  Lord knows what sort of paranoid Mama I'm going to be! 

On second thought, this may all have stemmed from the news at my last appointment, my doctor told me there was some kind of abnormal signal in the baby's heart function, called an EIF or something.  He assured me that in absence of any other corroborating factors (like an abnormal blood test, etc.), this likely means absolutely nothing.  In fact, he went so far as to say that he's never delivered a baby who had only this EIF who actually had a problem.  So, he tends to think it's just some unusual thing that some babies show, but which in fact is likely a normal variation.  But of course, he had to tell me in case I ever read the US report and got mad that I didn't know this.  Go figure.

Time to catch up...here's what's been happening in the last few weeks of Preggo-land:

Feb. 4, I had my latest doctor's appointment, with Dr. James again.  Same old non-existent bedside manner, but hey, what do I need warm and fuzzy for, really?  This time Baby H.'s heartbeat was a whopping 153-155.  My blood pressure and heart rate is still down in my normal range too, which makes for a happy Mommy-to-be.  Last time I felt like my heart rate was a bit high (for me) - upper 70s- but this time I was back down in the 60s.  So, either I'm getting more relaxed about this baby thing, or my more frequent trips to the gym have been helping.  Of course, even worrying about this puts me in the Paranoid category of preggos, since really, all is normal.  The other fun thing was that the doctor measured my belly (which is definitely obviously pregnant by now).  I measured at 22 weeks on the nose, so so far the due date is holding strong.  I told Dave I would like to have the baby on June 7, so the birthday would be 6-7-08, which would make me and my Type A personality very happy indeed.    Dave just thinks I'm a big nerd.

This week, we get to take our pick of Baby's size:  either I have a Barbie doll (or a Ken, I suppose), or a spaghetti squash.  Not sure which one is the nicer mental image...

One thing I neglected to mention in my last entry is that, I think somewhere between 20 and 21 weeks, I "popped".  And we're not talking zits here, though Lord knows I've had more than my fair share of those too, in recent days.  Pregnancy hormones are wonderful things...but I digress.

No, no, we're talking Baby popping.  All of a sudden this week at work people were getting bold enough to ask if I'm pregnant, instead of just wondering if my New Year's resolution was to live a rounder, happier life.  You have to figure that if people started asking, I must've really started looking pregant, since it's pretty risky to ask a woman if she's had an unintentional weight gain.  Looking down, I can definitely tell the belly is coming on full force now.  Another clue is that all my non-maternity shirts are starting to look a little short and cling in weird places, happy day. 

I am also 21 weeks today, so I suppose it's about time that I really started to show.  Baby Horne is a long banana today, what a milestone in the produce world!  Baby H. is now kicking quite frequently, and with increasing force, as to be expected.  My mom thinks maybe it's going to be another Jackie Chan.