16 weeks, and then 17 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

First you were an avocado, but now you're a turnip. Last week I turned 16 weeks pregnant, and yesterday I turned 17. You are 15 weeks old. Your skeleton is hardening from cartilage to bone and your umbilical cord is getting thick and strong. Your sense of hearing is developing and you can move all your joints. You have toenails and your heart pumps 25 quarts of blood a day.

Little bean, someday I'll tell you all about how my life went completely crazy from late-April to early-May 2009. But for now you'll just have to take my word for it.

I love you, little bean.

Love,
Suzanne

You and me. April 17, 2009.

You and Whiskers. April 17, 2009.

15 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

Today I am 15 weeks pregnant. You are 4 inches long and weigh 2 1/2 ounces, about as big as an apple. You are busy moving amniotic fluid through your nose and upper respiratory tract. (Which is kind of gross, little bean, but it helps to develop all your lung-parts, so I guess I'm okay with it. I do want you to have strong lung-parts.) Your legs are growing longer than your arms now, and you can move all of your joints and limbs. Your eyelids are fused shut, but you can still sense light. Dr. Google says if we shine a flashlight at your tummy, for instance, you would be likely to move away from the beam, although Shane and I have not yet tried this science experiment. You are developing taste buds, so I hope all that amniotic fluid is delicious.

I thought by now I would begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel, little bean, but no such luck. I still feel nauseous and exhausted all day every day. I finally succumbed to the urge and visited Dr. Baby to get some drugs for the nausea. I got the drugs, but Dr. Baby didn't seem overly concerned at how miserable I was, but was concerned by the fact that I appeared to be dehydrated. Not enough to warrant IV fluids, but headed in that direction. Dr. Baby said they don't care if I'm eating, but they do care if I'm hydrated. So we are now on Mission: Drink. Gatorade and lemonade and popsicles are the new staples. I will try my damnedest to keep a steady flow of fluid available to you, little bean.

Love,
Suzanne

P.S. The drugs did stop the nausea, little bean, but only because they induced a temporary coma. I think I would have gotten the same result from having Shane hit me over the head...

14 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

Today you are 12 weeks old and I am 14 weeks pregnant. You are as big as a lemon. You can now squint, frown, grimace, pee, grasp, and suck your thumb. Your body is now growing faster than your head, so you will be in perfect proportion soon, little bean. Your arms are stretching out, too, but your legs are still a little stubby. You're starting to develop an ultra-fine, downy covering of hair, called lanugo, that will protect you and keep you warm for the remainder of your stay in my womb.

Everyone and everything says that the second trimester (of which this was the first week) would be better than the first, but so far no change, little bean. I seem to be over the worst of the vomiting, but that doesn't mean I still don't feel like doing it or even sort of wish that I would. Since all I feel like doing is laying around and moaning, it's becoming increasingly hard to stay on top of things at work and at home, which is frustrating and discouraging. Little bean, I love you more than I thought I would love something that isn't really real yet, but you sure are hard work! (I bet you'll be worth it, though...)

Love,
Suzanne

13 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

Yesterday I turned 13 weeks pregnant; you are 11 weeks old. The website I normally consult tells me you are as big as a medium shrimp, but the thought of comparing you to a creepy crawly ocean creature/seafood seriously skeeves me out, so I'm going with website #2 which says you are the size of a small peach. (Although, I'm guessing they haven't seen the size of the peaches we grow here in the San Joaquin Valley, little bean.) Much nicer, yes?

My favorite development this week: fingerprints! The thought of your teeny-tiny-practically-too-small-to-even-exist fingerprints are almost too much for me to take.

This week has been puke city, little bean. Dr. Baby says I should be feeling some relief soon, but I'm afraid that things are heading in the other direction. Literally. (And I'll spare you the details.)

But it's all worth it, little bean. On Tuesday we saw you and heard your heartbeat again. We could see your head, your spine, your ear, your arms, and your legs. You were kicking and punching and flip-flopping around so much that it was difficult to keep track of all your parts or get a good picture. I can't believe how active you are, little bean! It's so strange to know that you are jumping around in there but I can't feel you yet. Seeing all your moving parts present and accounted for made you more real to us, little bean.

Love,
Suzanne

12 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

You are 10 weeks old and I am 12 weeks pregnant. (That's three months, little bean! We made it!) You are the size of a lime. You now have reflexes: you can open and close your fists, kick, curl your toes, suck, and squirm around in response to being poked and prodded. Your brain is furiously building synapses and your face now looks unquestionably human. (More good news for Shane!)

This week has been more of the same, little bean: woozy mornings, late evenings at work, baby bump expansion, lots of cold cereal, and lots of mac 'n cheese. (I've added Gatorade to the list of foods I can eat without wanting to die, so at least we're hydrated, little bean.)

Yesterday I heard your heartbeat. It was a strong and loud 160 bmp, just what it should be. The doctor couldn't find it at first (which induced maybe the shortest panic attack I've ever had) because it was higher than he thought. Which might explain the abnormally early baby bump... you're just riding high, little bean!

We are not keeping you a secret any longer, little bean. This has garnered many congratulations, and also many (useless) (and annoying) suggestions to help with morning sickness. If I'm told one more time to eat Saltines before I get out of bed in the morning, I will punch that person in the nose. And I won't even blame it on the pregnancy hormones.

Love,
Suzanne

11 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

Today I turn eleven weeks pregnant and you turn nine weeks old. You are just over an inch and a half long, as big as a fig. Your bones are beginning to harden and tiny tooth buds are forming underneath your gums. Soon you will be able to open and close your fists. Your skin is transparent, and if we could see you, we'd also be able to see all your teeny blood vessels. You are hiccuping and kicking and stretching and performing all kind of other underwater acrobatics, but I can't feel you yet. (What a happy day that will be, little bean!)

This week has been the roughest yet, little bean. I have felt so very nauseated almost every morning. For the past few days I have not been able to make it into work until sometime between 10 and noon, which means I have to stay later into the evening. The only things I've been able to stand eating are cold cereal and mac 'n cheese. I worry that I'm not providing you with proper nutrition, but all the books and Dr. Google say just to make it through the first trimester as best you can, and worry about all that later. So that's what I'm doing.

(Also, the books lie. They say I should be starting to feel better and have more energy right about now, but it's been just the opposite. Things have been declining rapidly...)

I think I have decided that the baby bump is indeed a baby bump. I don't know how or why it got so noticeable so fast and so early, but there it is. I am down to just a few wardrobe choices and it will be to the maternity section of Target with me very soon. I think this also means we'll have to make this pregnancy completely public very soon, because there isn't any hiding it for very much longer.

Shane has been very patient with me and my pregnancy woes. He has been a champion about meeting my every food-whim, rubbing my belly when I feel like throwing-up, and playing with my hair/stroking my arm/massaging my back when I can't get comfortable enough to fall asleep at night. He has also been a good sport about handling the dog/cat food and loading the dirty dishes, two things that make me woozy 100% of the time. I think you'll like Shane, little bean. He takes good care of us.

Love,
Suzanne

P.S. When Dad heard how nauseated I was this week, and that I was cutting lemons in half and licking them as a last resort in relief, he quickly made me this:

I think you'll like your grandpa, too, little bean. We are very lucky ducks, aren't we?

10 weeks.

Dear bean in my belly,

Congratulations, little bean! You have graduated from the embryonic stage to the fetal stage! Next step, gen-u-ine baby! But for now, you are eight weeks old and the size of a kumquat. You have all your teeny tiny parts, and for the rest of the pregnancy they will grow rapidly and mature. Some of your vital organs -- kidneys, intestines, brain, and liver -- have started to function. Your spinal cord is forming and your head accounts for half your body length. (That's because it holds your huge, burgeoning brain, little bean.)

This weekend Shane and I worked at the Viva el Mariachi! Workshops and Festival. If you want to know how to make me the crankiest I've ever been, get me 9 1/2 weeks pregnant and then make me get up at 5:30 am and work for 13 hours. It was a long, exhausting weekend, and I'm glad it's over. (Shane is glad it's over, too. I'm not kidding when I say I was cranky, little bean!) I had Monday off and I slept for 18 HOURS! I had no idea a human being was capable of such a thing! I think even as a sleepy-headed teenager the longest I pulled was 12 hours. My body must be doing very important things if it's using so much energy!

Nausea continues, on and off with no rhyme or reason. My only reliable tactic remains eating whatever sounds whenever it sounds good, and Shane remains a good sport with emergency trips to the grocery store. If the cashiers at SaveMart haven't figured out by now that his wife is pregnant, they are very dumb indeed.

Jury's still out as to whether I'm sporting an actual baby bump. I haven't gained any weight but my belly remains stubbornly pooched. I maintain that it's a migration/rearrangement of fat, but Shane insists that it's you. (I have explained to him 57 times that neither you nor my uterus are anywhere near the protrusion, but he remains unconvinced.) It would make me feel better if I could feel my uterus through my belly like all the books and Jacquie says I should be able to, but let's be honest, little bean, I have no idea what I'm feeling for or exactly where I should be feeling for it. It just feels like I'm massaging and squishing my belly fat all around, which is not a good feeling, so I haven't tried for very hard or very long. I'll just wait till you make my uterus a little bigger and more pronounced. Okay, little bean?

Love,
Suzanne