I feel like updating my blog, but I'm also tired and sluggish and at work on a slow work day, so how about a short pregnancy questionnaire. I told y'all I'm a mommy blogger now, right?

Weeks pregnant: 26 weeks tomorrow.

Weight gain: Last I checked I was up 16 pounds. I'm supposing all of that weight is in my middle and chest region, as I don't notice any changes otherwise. Maybe my arms are a little meatier too.

Stretch marks: None yet.

Symptoms/Problems: I've had a fairly easy pregnancy so far. I no longer pee my pants when I cough or sneeze. I don't know why. I thought it was going to get worse, but it just went away. I'm sure that incontinence will come back as I get bigger.

I'm still not uncomfortable. The belly isn't that big yet. I can sleep how I please, though I'm paranoid about sleeping on my back because I'm told that it can constrict blood flow. Sometimes I wake up during the night for no apparent reason and it always takes about an hour to fall back to sleep. Hence my sluggishness today. I'm not too bothered by missing an hour or so of sleep. Might as well train for sleep deprivation now, though I am secretly dreading the impending sleep deprivation because I love sleeping so much. Who doesn't, I know. I had severe insomnia in high school and college and never want to experience that soul numbing feeling again. According to all the pregnancy forums that I now mostly read for entertainment purposes, YOUR LIFE IS OVER THE MINUTE YOU GIVE BIRTH. YOU ARE DOOMED. YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP OR SHOWER AGAIN. DON'T YOU FORGET THAT, FIRST TIME MOM, YOU SELFISH TWIT, YOU. Jesus, OK, I just said I was tired.

One of my biggest pregnancy complaints is that I'm so fucking hot all the time and I know it will only get worse as summer approaches. I'm normally hot and prefer to sit in the comfort of cold, manufactured air, so being pregnant has made work, where it sucks the most, that much hotter. At home I can blast the AC. The department I work in is full of  long time Floridians. They keep the thermostat at 75 or above. One day I couldn't take it any longer and sneakily put it at 73. Immediately I heard, "It's so cold. Who turned the AC on?" I remained quiet and sweaty as a coworker hastily stomped by to raise the temperature. I learned my lesson. Cold-blooded Floridians, whew.  I bought a fan this weekend for my desk. It helps, though I'd prefer the AC.

My biggest, biggest pregnancy gripe is the size of my growing breasteses and, specifically, the impossible task of dressing them. My initial attitude of, "HA! HA! They're going to get huge!" quickly became, "Call 911." I finally caved and went to get measured, despite my anxiety and embarrassment. Everyone says my bump -- I kind of don't like that word -- is small for being 6 months, but I think there's an optical illusion going on.

Cravings: I'm not sure I can blame any of my food cravings on pregnancy, because they are mostly more of the stuff I always want -- spicy Indian or Thai food and anything sweet. I do drink orange juice every morning now, which I never did before. I mostly didn't before because it costs almost $4, rounding up. I do the grocery shopping, so I'm really cheap about what we eat. If Eugenio were to do the shopping, I'm sure I'd add orange juice to the list every time. Just kidding. I justify that I never buy any wine now, so I can handle the juice. I drink the 50% less sugar/calories stuff, because I'm worried about my sugar intake. I eat something sweet every day, despite my daily affirmations that, OK. This is the last gummy bear/piece of cake/block of sugar/shot of tequila/etc, etc. 

Oops. Clearly I can't stick to the short answer questionnaire format...because clearly I have so many interesting things to say. Who doesn't like sleep and juice? 

Birth plan?  Everyone has so many -- so many! -- opinions on birth and child rearing that we are doing our damnedest to consider them fully. To that end, we've solidified where we are giving birth and our birth plan so that no one messes with our ideal experience under any circumstance, ride or die: in a tree, unmedicated, while hanging upside down as nature intended. I won't have an overly educated and highly trained doctor tell me otherwise. She hasn't read the blogs or seen the documentaries that I have, that idiot. I'll feast on the placenta to regain strength afterwards. And I'll be carrying and breast feeding my child for 18 years or until she takes me to court to formally announce that she's had enough. They say she'll be super bonded and also independent if I follow these steps.

Don't take offense, or do, whatever, I'm only kidding. Some people are over zealous with their suggestions and generalizations about everything birth and child rearing related. I find it comical.

I will be 23 weeks along tomorrow and it will also be the five year anniversary of my mom's death. Umph. I already journaled about my so many feelings. I won't get into those here. I plan to wallow in the car ride to work by listening to sad songs that remind me of her. Tracy Chapman's The Promise and James Taylor's You Can Close Your Eyes are good ugly-cry songs, FYI.  Maybe it only works if you've lost someone close to you. I can't not cry listening to them.

On another note,  I've we've decided on a full name for the baby: Felicity Marie. I feel the need to get it out in public, or in writing, lest someone steal it from my mind. I know a lot of pregnant women -- at work, friends, and family members -- so there's a very real and delusional fear in my mind that any day, one is going to tell me that she named her unborn daughter Felicity Marie and then I will hide my disbelief and anger by saying, "That's great!" Let it be noted: we have dibs. No one else ever can name their kid this name, minus all the many people who already have.

I wanted to honor my mom somehow with our daughter's name. I knew I wanted her first name to be Felicity. I've loved that name since I received the Felicity American girl doll in the second grade. It wasn't just that melodramatic late nineties, J.J. Abrams show, which I also adore and own. Eugenio bought it for me on our four month anniversary. As in, we were dating exclusively for four months, and he gave me the entire series as a commemorative gift. I thought, "Damn, he's for real serious." That was a huge aside. As I was saying, I wanted to honor my mom somehow. Her name was Norma Jean (yes, my mother was Marilyn Monroe), so I was thinking Felicity Jean would work, but it doesn't flow well. My mom was super Catholic. Like, we had rosary beads in the bathroom drawer growing up so we could grab them during a storm, lock ourselves in the bathroom, and say Hail Marys while all the other children played in the rain. My friend Sarah will tell you a funny story about the first time she spent the night at my house in the 4th grade. "Hanna, what are we doing?" Sh!! Pray. Mom wanted all of our middle names to be some version of Mary. My middle name is Marie, common as it is. I figure, Mom would approve of it for Felicity. So, done: Felicity Marie it is. It sounds good yelled out loud, too, for those first and middle name situations. Felicity Marie, I said, bring your momma some more wine!