It was last Tuesday night. Well, technically it was Wednesday morning. It was five o’clock on Wednesday morning. Nate had just been fed a bottle around 2:30. I didn’t think he could possibly be hungry again already. I had tried to comfort him in his crib, and managed to settle him for a few minutes. Until I got back into bed, of course, at which time he began to wail again.

“Did you just come from his room?” Graham asked groggily.

“Yes,” I answered. “There’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just going to have to cry for a few minutes,” I went on. I was tired.

Ten minutes went by and Nate still hadn’t gone back to sleep. My patience was wearing thin.

“I’m never going to sleep longer than two hours at a time EVER AGAIN!” I stormed angrily down the stairs to the kitchen to make a bottle.

The next morning I decided it was time. It was time for Nate to try some solid food. I had been keeping track of how much he’d eaten over the last few days and he was averaging about 38 oz. of formula over a 24-hour period.

Wednesday when we got up, I asked some friends for advice about starting to add some solid foods to Nate’s cereal, and I had a few different jars on hand that a friend had passed along to us. I started with sweet potatoes. I mixed them into Nate’s oat cereal about half-and-half.

I expected him to make a face when he tried his new food, and although he definitely noticed something was different, he didn’t skip a beat. He ate it right up. He had some more that night before bed with his bottle.

That night, he slept from 11:30 until 5:30 STRAIGHT, the longest stretch of continuous sleep he’d ever had. Since then he’s been doing pretty well. Most nights he still wants to eat every three to four hours up until 1:30 or 2:00, and then he’ll sleep until 7:30 or 8:00.

He had sweet potatoes every day for four days, and then I tried green beans yesterday, which he also ate up.

I think he’s going to be a great little eater!

A sandwich the size of his head.

Last night Graham and I took Nate to our favourite restaurant. He was SO GOOD! He just sat and looked all around and chattered away. We took turns holding him while we ate. Most fun dinner out ever.

It’s a good thing that my 2-hour glucose test for gestational diabetes went so well…in the words of my doctor, my numbers were “perfect, just perfect.” So yay!  I’ve escaped the diabeetus.

It’s a good thing that the test went well because today we went to the local fall fair and, well, THERE WAS FUDGE.

The baby enjoyed it, too.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate taking photos of myself?  Especially when it’s windy?  And my hair is in desperate need of a trim and a colour?  And the neighbours are probably all standing in their bedroom windwos watching and laughing and pointing and wondering why I’m standing in the back yard on the deck, looking north, with my hand on my beer gut?

In any case, I present to you for your viewing and giggling pleasure, My Early Bump.

I make no guarantees, however, that said bump is all baby, and not made up almost entirely of watermelon.

Wow, all of your lovely, kind and positive comments on my post announcing the addition to our family have filled the last couple of days with many, many smiles and warmth.  I mean, really, some of you even jumped up and down for us!  We are so honestly touched.  A few of you asked how I’ve been feeling, and asked about our due date.  Our doctor estimated our due date would be November 16th, and our first ultrasound pegged it at November 20th, which I guess is the more accurate prediction.

As for how I’ve been feeling, well, I think I’m one of the lucky ones. I really don’t want to be one of those pregnant women who complains all the time.  I’ve been very, very lucky when it comes to classic pregnancy symptoms and have all but managed to escape morning sickness.  I’ve had the odd bout of queasiness and only one occasion of actually throwing up, which had more to do with the crippling migraine-like headache I let go for hours and hours until in the middle of the night I just couldn’t take it anymore.

The only complaint I have so far has to do with food,  naturally, but not my inability to eat it or to keep it down.  It’s just that over the last several weeks eating food has become a mysteriously frustrating part of my every day routine.  Sure, I get hungry, sometimes enormously hungry.  I ate the entire breakfast special at the local diner not that long ago (three eggs, bacon, two slices of whole wheat toast and home fries) for the first time ever, and I could have eaten the whole thing over again once I’d finished.  Other days I’m famished and there is absolutely nothing in the house that appeals to me whatsoever.  I’ve become extremely picky.  It’s not that I’ve decided I don’t like a certain food anymore, it’s just that I’m not able to imagine the food in question being put into my mouth and then into my stomach.  Graham came home with a bag of sour cream and onion chips for me the other night and I didn’t eat a single one of them.  NOT ONE POTATO CHIP.  He seemed insulted, honestly, and I thanked him for thinking of me but couldn’t really explain to him how I just couldn’t bring myself to eat one crumb of those thoughtfully purchased chips.  And historically, they’ve been my weakness.

Grocery shopping has become an exercise in extreme frustration because I want to buy everything and at the same time want to buy nothing.  It’s the ambivalence about food that is ultimately so annoying.  Coming up with something to cook for dinner that Graham and I will both like is next to impossible.

The only food that I can say for certain I always enjoy these days is a fruit smoothie.  I have lots of frozen mango chunks and strawberries in the freezer, and I combine those with some yogurt, orange juice and a couple of ice cubes in the blender and that filling cool, fruity yumminess is about the only thing I’ve enjoyed eating in the last month, with the exception of that diner breakfast special.

And on that note, who wants to meet me for eggs?