All of a sudden, and just in time for 24 weeks on Monday, I’ve gone from being safely detached from this pregnancy 90% of the time to being totally and utterly excited (but still nervous a little, I can’t lie). The chances are good though that in under 4-months, I will give birth and bring home a baby girl we’ll call Daphne Joyce. Daphne, because we just like it. And Joyce because that’s my Aunt’s name (who never had any daughters but I’m sure would’ve liked to). Joyce is also my husband’s deceased paternal  grandmother’s name. Everyone seems to rave about her, so I’m confident that we’ve made a good middle name choice. Now if you watch the worst tv show ever, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, like I do (yes, I just admitted that), I’m sure you caught the last episode where Brandi Glanville continuously slammed “Joyce” the new “character” for her name. She called it “an old lady moniker” or something along those lines. Well Brandi you and your stripper name can suck it. Old ladies rock!

For my 33rd birthday a month ago, two close friends had a necklace made with Daphne’s name on it. I’m wearing it as we speak and haven’t taken it off in weeks. Somehow, it’s helped the bonding process along. It’s helped me connect. And now that morning sickness is gone and I essentially feel great, with the exception of some odd foot pain (getting fat will do that), it’s another reminder, in addition to her movements, that wherever I go she’s with me.

The necklace was my first Daphne related gift, while the Olivia and the Fairy Princesses was my second (thanks My Life As A Case Study, love you!). I wasn’t familiar with Olivia until I cracked open this adorable pig adorned book. Olivia is one kick-ass little pig you guys. Seriously. Screw being a princess, she wants to be queen.

Though I’m still not past simply wishing and hoping that little Daphne is just healthy and normal, I have recently allowed myself to dream a about what kind of person she will be. Will she be blond like my husband? Dark eyed like me? What will she love? What will she dislike? Who will she be? Will she be queen (just kidding!)? I think those who haven’t struggled with infertility allow themselves to indulge in these fantasies earlier and more frequently than those of us who have. With that said, it feels like I’ve reached a milestone in allowing myself to think about the baby inside me as an actual person. I’m also thrilled to announce that my even-keeled, somewhat emotionally detached himself husband, has expressed excitement of his own! Just today he said, “I want to meet her already!” To which I replied, “Patience, honey! She’s not even close to done cooking yet!” Not. Even. Close. Cook Daphne cook!

Something that IS almost done, however, is our house. Supposedly, we close at the end of this week. And that’s when the craziness begins. Guests arrive for the weekend immediately after, 1. I have a doctor’s appointment in the early am, and then 2. we sign closing docs for the house all afternoon an hour away. We’ll then drive across town, literally like 45 miles (it’ll feel like more since it’ll be rush hour traffic in lala land), to pick them up and go to a Lakers’ game (no we are not in fact Lakers fans, we’ll be there to watch the Timberwolves). We’ll spend that weekend entertaining, which should be fun because I plan to take most of the weekend off from studying (yup I’m STILL doing that). Then, they’ll leave the 23rd, we’ll drive 5 hours to my parent’s house on the 24th, stay through the 27th, drive home that night, sleep in our condo, and bar review will formally start for two 9-5 sessions on the 28th and 29th, at which time Merp will be packing up our house (a thought that terrifies me). Then on the 30th, movers will come. Supposedly, somewhere in there, my aunt and uncle will be staying at our condo (since it hasn’t sold yet) which may or may not have furniture.  Whew. Did you get all that? I’m not even sure I’m getting it.

Amidst preparing for it all, I managed to also choose a Doula (more on that later), and a few weeks prior, I got bangs, or bangs got me. Getting got by bangs was not a good decision of which many people warned me. I don’t hate them, I just strongly dislike them most of the time. But change is good, even if it is just in your hair (I guess moving an hour away isn’t good enough!).

Speaking of change, my body is a changing for sure. I am hungry CONSTANTLY. I would eat a second dinner right now if I could.  But since my scale broke and I suspect I’m already up 20 lbs, I will settle for an apple with peanut butter. Sigh.

23 weeks 5 days!

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It’s all happening Tis’ the season You Can’t Take It With You – Part 2 That’s Where You’ll Find Me The new me: A hungry Sleepopatamus