My Skinny Jeans Don't Fit Anymore

***This post was written late February. Keep this in mind as you read (and in case you were wondering... NONE of my jeans fit anymore at the point I'm at this morning). In addition, there are several more posts I've written over the last three months (not posted here yet) documenting my experience. I will be posting new ones daily, so check back often if you'd like to hear the whole story up till now!
If you want to hear the story of how we found out, click here (the first blog in this series)***

Yesterday morning, I opened up my jeans drawer and spotted my favorite skinny jeans. I had not attempted to wear them since I found out I was pregnant. Pulling them out, the thought "They'll probably still fit" skipped through my hormone influenced brain.

Put my right leg through. My foot caught on the ankle hole but I pushed it on through. "That always happens," I thought. Tried to pull up the right leg. A little snug. "Well, I DID just wash and dry them," my over-tired brain from waking up to pee twice a night thought, and proceeded to push my left leg through.

That's where things got a little more difficult.

Trying to wiggle myself into the pants, I had to hop around my room at least 54% more than normal. I began to think something was a little off. I finally managed to get the beloved sausage casings up my legs. "It's fine," I thought, "It's just because they are not stretched out yet from the wash." 

Then I tried to zip them up.

If you will, imagine me sarcastically raising my eyebrows and uttering the word "BAH" (an old Italian family term meaning "oh GREAT"- typically said in a highly sarcastic tone as well).  My favorite Gap jeans, so soft and able to reassuringly hug my legs like my ballet tights, would not zip up without me REALLY REALLY sucking it in. And then, even then,  I was extremely uncomfortable and unable to breath. I could sense the heartburn lurking around the corner almost immediately.

I don't even want to talk about trying to button them.

My beloved skinny jeans. This was a year ago, with my dance partner in Once Upon a Mattress, rockin the Gangnam Style dance and enjoying being able to fit in my favorite jeans.

Moving on! So, I decided NOT to wear the painted-on garment. I dug out another pair of jeans that were looser in the waist area, and used a rubber band to secure the (still tighter than normal) button closure. Apparently this is a common jeans fix for women expecting, until the inevitable day arrives they must go out shopping for-- GASP-- maternity jeans!
This day of maternity jeans purchasing has not come for me yet. However I caved in today and ordered a cute cotton fold over maternity skirt from Old Navy. I had not as of yet bought anything labelled "maternity" because I've been wanting to wait until my 2nd trimester to make sure most things are under control with the baby health-wise. I also ordered a new pink hoodie, normal sized. My belly is just still a bit poofier than normal and I'll be waiting a while to order full on maternity tops.
And so I bid my favorite jeans farewell (along with some of my tighter fit leotards which have now been banished to the bottom of my leotard drawer)-- for now. But I'm coming  back for you later! Consider that a promise! *menacing wink*

Chips.

***This post was written approximately February 14th. Keep this in mind as you read (and an FYI: the queasiness has gotten MUCH better by now, thank God). In addition, there are several more posts I've written over the last three months (not posted here yet) documenting my experience. I will be posting new ones daily, so check back often if you'd like to hear the whole story up till now!
If you want to hear the story of how we found out, click here (the first blog in this series)***

I always joked that when/if I got pregnant, I would have so little energy that all I would be able to do is sit on the couch and eat potato chips. I was mostly joking.
But yesterday I had a bad day, nausea-wise. My body wasn't accepting anything I was putting into it. Except (yes, of course, because my life is just full of irony right now) chips. Delicious, plain salty Lay's potato chips. I think there was something in the starch that made the yucky stomach issues calm down just a little.

As I sat there, doing some marketing work on my computer, eating chip after chip after chip (I have to feed this kid somehow, don't I?), I realized something. I had become my own stereotype.
And that's ok. Because damn it, they tasted awesome.

Performing for Two

***This post was written approximately February 12th. Keep this in mind as you read. In addition, there are several more posts I've written over the last three months (not posted here yet) documenting my experience. I will be posting new ones daily, so check back often if you'd like to hear the whole story up till now!
If you want to hear the story of how we found out, click here (the first blog in this series)***

Performing pregnant... How do I describe this highly unique experience... Stepping onstage with the knowledge that there is another living being living inside me has turned my whole stage experience inside out.
My entire life, almost, I've been onstage. Since my first role as a Tiny Tot in the Nutcracker as an eight year old, until my role as Clara this last year (2013) in the same ballet, I've been passionate about the lights, the giving of myself to the audience, the whole experience.
And, up until now, I would always step onstage alone.
I am currently performing in Damn Yankees with Performance Now Theatre Company, and it is a total hoot! Other than the slightly increased tiredness from being in my first trimester, it has lived up to the other musicals I've been so privileged to be a part of. I love the lively music, the heart, the enthusiasm of musical theater.There's just something that fills my heart with utter joy every moment I'm onstage when I'm part of a musical.

"Who's Got the Pain?" number in Damn Yankees (myself far left, photo by Todd Strong Photography)

Once I got past the fear that I would hurt the little human while dancing onstage, I began to realize that the moments I spend performing with a life inside me will never leave my heart. It's the knowledge that you are sharing this experience with someone else (even if that someone is the size of a grape and has no conscious knowledge of what is happening) that makes it unique. This might be the only time in my life I experience this deep sharing-- and it brings a deep joy that quite honestly took me by surprise.
I will never forget it. And God willing I can share with my child someday pictures and videos, and point to exactly where they were at the moment.

The Food Olympics!

***This post was written approximately February 8th. Keep this in mind as you read. In addition, there are about 11 more posts I've written over the last two months (which I haven't posted here yet) documenting my experience. I will be posting new ones daily, so check back often if you'd like to hear the whole story up till now!
If you want to hear the story of how we found out, click here (the first blog in this series)***

As the Olympians in Sochi prepare and compete in their individual sports and receive medals for their amazing abilities, here I sit in Aurora, Colorado participating in a brand new Olympic-type competition. Between myself and my stomach. It's called the Eat Every Single Half Hour Or Feel That Amazing Nausea Olympic Games!
As any athlete, I've learned to follow a routine that works. Don't go out of the regular norm unless you are already in a good place and can afford to take a risk! Risking also includes waiting longer than a half hour to eat. Don't think it sounds that bad? Try it sometime-- it is super time consuming!
I have my "safe" foods and my "risky" foods. Some safe foods include white cheddar popcorn, applesauce (my personal favorite), eggs, oatmeal, steak, Lay's chips, and carrots. Also these awesome peanut butter granola bars I can't seem to stop eating. I have had some good days and bad days competing, but I feel I've come out on top most days!

:(

The days I've risked out of the norm foods have resulted in a bad stomach the next day. Hey, you live and learn (after you shed a tear or two that you can no longer eat a favorite food-- can you say CHICK FIL-A?!? Yes, fellow chicken lovers, weep with me! I will gladly wipe the tears from your eyes as I wipe my own).
Also, every athlete needs their gear. For my ballet career I need pointe shoes, tights, bobby pins, a foam roller. All to keep me performing at my best. My best piece of gear now in the Food Olympics?

Sea Bands. Somehow the acupressure point on the inside of my wrist is a magical place where if you push on it, the nausea stays at bay a little more than usual. So far no one has asked me why I'm wearing the sporty black bands on both of my wrists.
As any athlete knows... Life is work. If you want to achieve that golden goal, you have to put in the blood, sweat, and tears.
Or, in my case, time stuffing my face with applesauce.

Excuse Me?

***Original date this post was written: February 5th. Keep this in mind as you read. In addition, there are about 12 more blogs posts I've written over the last two months (which I haven't posted here yet) documenting my experience. I will be posting new ones daily, so check back often if you'd like to hear the whole story up till now!***

I have been surviving on bananas, crackers, applesauce, and ginger ale. Oh, and the occasional bean burrito (weird?). I'm grateful for the afternoon of buffalo wings, french fries, and celery with ranch-- didn't expect that one would work out too well. This often constant queasiness has altered my life and mental state in a way that is really, really tiring.
Sounds like the last dregs of the stomach flu, doesn't it?
I wish!...Or do I?

So. It turns out I have been housing a little life inside of me. Completely unplanned, completely by surprise. When we found out, I was already 6 weeks  into this weird-ass experience... Maybe that offends you but it is the most succinct way to describe how I feel about this right now. I will go into more detail about my emotional and mental state in a later post-- but now for the really interesting part:
My body goes into physical over-drive and things get a little "late" when I am in serious training if you know what I mean. For those who aren't familiar with my current lifestyle/career, I have been training pretty intensely in ballet for the last month or so, rehearsing for Damn Yankees with Performance Now Theatre Company, and also preparing for some theater auditions on the side.

Jessica and I in the studio

 So I wasn't worried (just annoyed with the constant PMS symptoms that had been going on for at least 3 weeks). Until Casey mentioned how "late" I was during a conversation in which I was complaining about said PMS symptoms. Which is not in his character for him to mention, and it made me really stop and think. So I went to buy a pregnancy test at Walgreens.
Out of my normal ballet class taking, grocery shopping, musical rehearsing, dance teaching day, appeared one of those new-fangled pregnancy tests that say "not pregnant" or "pregnant" and also tell you how many weeks you are. I spotted it on the shelf among the others. I thought they were kinda cool (totally wasn't worried at all), bought a a couple, came home. Did what I had to do, came out into the living room, checked Facebook for the obligatory 3 minutes, and went back to check (still wasn't worried).
I picked up the stick. Then I got the shock of my life: "Pregnant: 2-3."

(NOT MY ACTUAL TEST-- but identical results)

The "2-3" means weeks. Unless they means seconds until my brain and heart literally paused in utter and complete shock.
EXCUSE ME?!?
You see, this REALLY REALLY wasn't planned. At all. I have been planning on finishing the Ballet Ariel season up (I was slated to perform Lilac Fairy in early March) and hoping to perform  in at least a couple musicals in the next several months. Casey is right in the middle of studying for another CPA exam and very busy indeed. We weren't even going to begin discussing the idea of babies until at least six months from now. So you can imagine my reaction.
I somehow miraculously got into my doctor that same day, and she confirmed the utterly unbelieveable news. I am pregnant.
One of my best friends told me, "It is a total and complete paradigm shift." I have begun to understand this more and more over the past few weeks. It affects everything-- physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and basically everything else that involves anything I'm used to in my life. And the kid is still just about 1.14 cm long (at about 8 weeks-- the test was a little off, although the day I took it I was around 6 weeks pregnant already).
Stay tuned for the next blog post, in which I will still be talking about how un-freaking-believable (and admittedly, kind of cool and exciting) this is.