Eleven weeks: I am proud to report that, including today, I have not thrown up for three days. I even had fajitas for dinner last night (mine: tofu, onions, green peppers, mushrooms; his: onions, green peppers, chicken), which was a great step up from crackers and milk or bagels with cream cheese, which was essentially all I could stomach for a while. The best is being able to eat strawberries and raspberries straight from the garden, no rinsing, dirt and all. Those flavors are so fantastic, they spring and dance, and I just know baby is enjoying the shift from bland to passionate. I've only gotten weepy with frustration once, but I've gotten weepy in gratitude over and over. It's amazing what one can appreciate when it is returned to you: favorite foods, a seven-hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep, the energy to mow the backyard.

We had our second OB appointment today; this was the one with the heart beat. I told Ryan I often feel like I am on a conveyor belt when I go to the doctor's office--hustled in and out, questions asked faster than I can process them, and you're off! See you next month. This was one of those visits, and I was able to stretch it out long enough to get a prescription for Ambien (it sounds so delightfully peaceful, doesn't it?) and learn that it will be two months instead of one for us to find out the gender of my little parasite. Ryan sat in the chair, bewildered, making strange faces at me as my blood pressure was checked, downgrading his original "terrified" reaction to the question How do you feel? to "scared." I'm so proud of my brave husband.

This morning we had another, less delightful appointment; this, where we discussed, for an hour and a half, life insurance variations and mutual funds with our insurance agent. My brain was fuzzy from the four hours of RLS sleep I had, and I'm not a numbers person anyway, though I did come to the conclusion that term life insurance is actually affordable (as opposed to whole life or universal life) and we should have listened to my grandmother / mother all along (yes, mother, I know: you were right) and started investing in Roth IRAs from the start. Ryan asked a clever question about mutual funds, as you can often select the package of investment types: large business, medium, small, European, etc. He inquired after socially responsible packages (a question asked for my benefit, which was sweet), which didn't exist at this particular location, but later he found this link, and I opted to open my own wee account this afternoon, which, I suppose, is better than nothing, though I realize, as Ryan so gently pointed out, I ought to be worried about debt first as opposed to investments.


I'd rather my brain not buzz with numbers; I think reliving that whoosh-ing sound that is my baby's heart will do for now.

In other news, our little swath of land is under a tornado watch, though as I look out the window, all is bright and yellowy with sunshine. When we came back from the hospital today, as I was pillaging the raspberry bush, two bitty strawberries clutched in my fist, a few fat drops of rain plopped down on my head, so thick I thought a bird had let loose above. The wind is picking up and our maple, which has grown exponentially since planting it two or three years ago, is baring the pale undersides of its leaves, its shadow bobbing against the bright fence. I love a good storm, especially curled up on the sofa with a novel, the dogs sweet and serene, the baby whooshing away.

Oh, and this week? Baby graduated from a prune to a lime.