Back in July, one of my bloggy heros Loralee posted a link to a contest for an all-expenses paid trip to The Creative Connection Conference in Minneapolis.

All you had to do to enter was write a 250-word essay about your creativity and how attending would help you develop as a person and an entrepreneur.

So, hey, nothing to lose. I wrote an essay, frantically using up more than my fair share of contractions trying to keep it under 250 words. Because, HELLO, creating stuff is awesome. I do it a lot. It’s not always pretty or perfect or brilliant, but I love my blog, my photographs, my knitting, my baking and the chance to meet and network with other (way WAY more amazingly creative) women sounded like a dream come true.

I sent my crazy rambling words off into the ether and forgot all about it.

OK, I didn’t really forget. I thought about it. A lot. I thought about how amazing it would be to attend a conference like this (HELLO, THE PIONEER WOMAN IS GOING TO BE THERE). I thought about how much of myself I put into my little essay. I thought about it right up until the day they were supposed to contact the winners. Then I thought bitter, angry thoughts about the jerks who got picked instead of me.

And then yesterday I got an email.

Hi Suzanne,

Congratulations! We have selected you as one of our three winners in the Create.Craft.Connect contest sponsored by Lark Crafts and The Creative Connection!

We were so inspired by your incredibly unique entry (love your belief that creativity isn’t about talent but the love of making things!)  that we’d like to send you to the conference in September.

WHAT THE WHAT? My best guess is I was runner up #17 or something and the other winners had to turn it down for some reason, which would explain why I was contacted so late. But who the heck cares, I’M A WINNER!

I passed out for a minute. Then I sobbed a little. Then I tweeted like fourty bazillionty times. Then I sobbed a little more. Then I jumped up and down. Then I peed my pants because I couldn’t bring myself to step away from the computer in case the email message somehow disappeared.

Can you tell I’m excited? SUPER excited. I’m also terrified I’ll spend the whole time standing in a corner because I don’t know ANYONE. I also feel like a terrible mother because I’ll be leaving Baby Evan AGAIN for three more days, not to mention dumping him with my parents for most of Labor Day weekend while E and I attending wedding festivities. And then I feel ever worse because I don’t actually feel THAT BAD about getting some more baby free time before Baby Squared becomes a reality. Mama likes sleeping in.

I don’t have any actual plans yet, no plane ticket or confirmations or instructions on how to sign up for the workshops or whatever. Which means maybe this is just some sort of extra-specific spam and tomorrow I’ll get an email saying the best way to contact them is this Nigerian phone number and while they’ve got my attention could I help their great uncle transfer $23,000,000 out of the country? All they need is my bank info. I don’t think I’d be the least bit surprised.

BUT. If it is real, I will soon be accosting Ree Drummond with my giant pregnant belly and tracking down Allison from O My Family to prove she really is as cute in person.

I need to go change my pants again.

p.s. Who can suggest somewhere to get awesome, fast, cute, cheap business cards? Because if I’m going to pretend to be all like “Oh hai, Am legitimate bizness woman!” I think I need cards.

I don’t have enough to say about anything to make these individual posts (and really, you should thank me for not even TRYING to make any of the following blurbs into 500 word essays) so you get bullet points.

– Is it possible for a kid to drink too much orange juice? Baby Evan is OBSESSED with it, to the point I’m afraid his skin might turn orange. He ate a slice of the actual fruit yesterday so I might steer him in that direction, especially if there is a reason he shouldn’t drink 30 oz of (watered down, calcium added) juice in a day (besides the ridiculous amount of sugar). (EDITED TO ADD: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMGOOOOOOOD. I’m not going to tell you any more than that except I finally discovered something cloth diapers can’t contain and a VERY good reason to cut back OJ consumption.)

– The bridesmaid dress I am supposed to wear on September 5th is not going to fit on September 5th. It fit yesterday, with much pulling and sucking in, but I have officially reached the “popped” part of my pregnancy so my rib cage is getting bigger by the second. I have some material to alter it take it somewhere to be altered but with the way it’s constructed I don’t even know how they’re going to manage that. (p.s. It’s this dress, if you want to make suggestions)(p.p.s. Which is now ON SALE for for $65 less than I paid. I wonder if I can return the one I bought and buy a new one in a bigger size?)(Although it’s only available in one size larger than the size I currently have so I’ll probably still need to have it altered.)

– I’m still knitting and really enjoying it, or at least I was until I attempted to make something-adult sized and lost my everloving MIND. I’m still hoping to have my own version of this done in time to wear it to the bridal shower next weekend:
But I might stab out an eye with a knitting needle before I’m done. (Free pattern & picture from Classic Elite Yarns.) I think from now on I’ll stick to baby-sized items.

– Speaking of things to wear to the shower, I’m looking for a pretty, comfortable, CHEAP sleeveless dress (maternity or just roomy) that would match the above vest knitted in a nice shade of blue-green. And it does NOT have to be boob-accessible.  My next stop is Forever 21 but frankly that place gives me hives, despite their huge selection of trendy, reasonably priced dresses.

– Today is the last day to enter my Planet Wise Wet/Dry Bag giveaway! In case you missed my edit the last time, I opened the contest up for Canadians – if you win I will mail you a bag personally. I have one more super-cute, eco-friendly giveaway coming up on Monday and then I’ll take a break on the review stuff for a while.

– Gender Important developmental and birth defect stuff ultrasound for Baby Sandy is on August 4th (LESS THAN 1 WEEK). First round priority text message goes to immediate family & people who might kill me if I didn’t tell them the boy/girl news first but mere seconds later I’ll be peer to peer texting it to the Bebehblog Facebook page/Twitter so some time around 2 pm you can check in if you’re curious. Giant post to follow, of course.

– I FINALLY switched hosts from a company I was less than happy with (see here and here) to the AMAZING AND WONDERFUL Twenty70 Hosting. Kelly has been infinitely patient in transferring everything for me and even managed to find my lost posts last week. Plus she’s charging me less than the old people (shhhh, don’t tell her or she might charge more). Please let me know if you have any delays or problems loading Bebehblog so I can pass them on to Twenty70 and they can fix them with their internet magic.

Phew. I think that’s all. What’s new with you?

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As I mentioned before (even earlier in my pregnancy than this ridiculously early post), if Sandy ends up belonging to the hot dog half of the hamburger-hot dog population, we’ve already got a name picked out. It’s an awesome, cool, unusual, non-yet-overused, legitimately-from-my-immediate-family-not-a-third-cousin-twice-removed-in-law name.

But y’all, as much as I am TOTALLY COMPLETELY 100% IN LOVE with this name, I am skeered. Skeered people are going to think I’m a crazy person, skeered it’s a totally stupid thing to name a baby, skeered that the internet is going to mock me. I can’t even bring myself to put the name out there – not here on the blog, not on the baby message boards, not to anyone besides my parents and E’s parents and one friend I knew would understand. E actually told a few relatives a while back while I made desperate cringing “no don’t say it don’t say it DON’T” faces behind their backs. Then I ran away before anyone could react so I don’t know what they thought. I just can’t stand the thought of someone saying “Oh. Really? Are you sure?” to a name that I’ve got my heart set on.

I have no idea why this is bothering me so much. I do not live in an area where everyone calls their babies Bob or Mike or Jacob. I know Lucien, Calvin, Tristan, Reid, Brody and Gideon, all of which I would put in the same category as the name I want to use. And now that I’ve heard them 10, 20, 500 times none of those names seem even a tiny bit strange. They aren’t even “baby names” anymore – they’re just people I know, although admittedly tiny, drooling, crap-their-pants people.

My name isn’t even unheard of. I sent a totally crazy stalker Twitter direct message to a blogger who happened to mention her nephew was named my very special secret name. (I may have scared her with my craziness and/or questions.) I also freaked out when I saw MY name on a list of unusual names that are gaining popularity – and according to a few websites it’s now in the top 200 most common. I promise it’s not Heahstan or Cenwig or Kinkson or Syre or anything else from the Baby’s Named a Bad, Bad Thing collection (WARNING: That link is a giant time suck. HUGE. DO NOT CLICK unless you have several hours to waste.) I promise I’m not really a crazy person. I promise even my own mother thinks it’s a fantastic name.

I also promise to stop talking about it now until I know for sure if we even GET to use it. Because the more I stress now, the more likely this baby will end up being a girl anyways. So it won’t even matter.

And for the record, if you’re DYING to know what the name is, send me an email or a Twitter DM or something. It’s not a secret, I’m just SKEERED.

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Minor housekeeping note: I finally broke down and joined the Top Baby Blogs list almost all my internet friends are members of. Unfortunately, you need like a quadrillion votes to show up in the top 100 so I’m going to be doing a little begging self-promotion. No registration or anything required: just click on the banner below and then click on the big icon in the middle of the screen. You won’t see my button until I make it to the front page (AHAHAHAHAHAHhahahahah!! Ha.) but rest assured you made my day just by voting!

I started this blog for Baby Evan, my original bebeh, so EVERY POST for the first 12 months was related to growing him, feeding him, caring for him and loving him. There were a few posts that had more to do with my own life or opinions, but I would argue that everything that’s gone in my life in the last 24 months* was directly influenced by his presence. No scrapbook in the WORLD is as detailed as this blog is when it comes to recording every single magical poop filled moment of a child’s life.

And now I am 12 weeks pregnant. OMG. 12 weeks pregnant means I am in my second trimester with Sandy and I’ve written about it less than half a dozen times. I have no tag for “first trimester”. Most days I barely have time to think about being pregnant, let alone dwell on it. When people ask me “So how are you feeling?” I stare at them kind of blankly for a minute until I remember they’re asking due to my knocked-upped-ness. I haven’t bought a single baby item or browsed a single website for nursery inspiration. I don’t even know if we’re going to do a nursery this time – we know we like co-sleeping for at least 6 months so why disturb our guest room? I haven’t made a giant list of names or sat super still for hours wondering if I was feeling baby flutters or just gas (seriously, I totally still can’t tell) or planned a baby shower** or bought a baby book or taped the ultrasound pic to the fridge (I don’t even know where I PUT it) or…or…or anything. Most of the time I think I’ve imagined the whole thing and I should start packing up these unused maternity clothes to put them in the attic.

I would add I’m doing a BETTER job of a lot of things this time around – I’m eating much healthier for one. After everyone’s suggestions on what to feed Baby Evan I’ve started keeping a lot more fruit in the house and yesterday I ate my body weight in berries. With Baby Evan the only thing I ate my weight in was french fries. (The fact that I’ve had minimal morning sickness this time helps immensely.) I’m staying active, and by active I mean “going to Stroller Strides regularly and running after Baby Evan all day”, not “buying a prenatal yoga DVD I do twice before I start fast forwarding to the part at the end where we focus on relaxing, i.e. lying down”. I have officially gained zero pounds so far and I no longer think I’m destined to exceed last pregnancy’s highest number. I am reading a totally different set of books, reading a different set of message boards, asking a different set of questions, all of which mean I will be better prepared for birth and the super-important moments immediately afterward. Sandy is going to have a lot of advantages thanks to my been-there-done-that knowledge – if I don’t simply forget to go into labor because Baby Evan just said “Luv you mama!” for the first time or is throwing a screaming temper tantrum in the mall or because it’s freakin’ CHRISTMAS and I am WAY too busy to stop and push out a watermelon baby.

I fear at this rate, my (imaginary future) third child is destined to star in it’s very own episode of I Didn’t Even Know I Was Pregnant.

*Proof I am indeed pregnant: I had to use both my fingers AND a calculator to figure out what 9ish months of pregnancy plus 14ish months of life totaled.

**I’m going to have a baby party instead of a shower, hosted by myself, with a cake and punch and decorations but no presents. I might not be spending as much time dwelling on this pregnancy but I want Sandy to know s/he was just as worthy of a party as Baby Evan.***

***Which I’m pretty sure proves I’m not doing quite as badly as I think I am.

This is sort of rambling and vague so I apologize in advance.

Baby Evan’s birth was just the way I wanted it. It was fast and uneventful and pain-free. I went to the hospital without a formal birth plan (although I joked I was going to print out a dozen pieces of paper that just said “GET THE BABY OUT” in giant letters) since my requests were already written in my chart. I liked and trusted the OB practice I was seeing and with my totally normal, low risk pregnancy I was confident I could avoid the only two things I was horribly afraid of: a c-section and an episiotomy. And I did, thanks to a doctor who let me go home to labor, a very well placed epidural, some of the strongest pelvic muscles in the Western hemisphere and a lot of luck. I have absolutely zero regrets regarding my choices, especially since I ended up with the healthy baby every mom wants after 40 weeks of pregnancy.

But sometimes I feel that because I didn’t give birth squatting in a meadow surrounded by bluebirds and fawns and harp music and 100 of my closest friends chanting ancient birth rituals I have somehow failed. Because I don’t have regrets about trusting modern medicine and taking advantage of pain medication I am betraying womankind. Because I didn’t even try to do it naturally I am less worthy to call myself a mother.

Which is all ridiculous.

I think I just spend too much time on the internet, where the only two stories seem to be horrible traumatic c-sections no one wanted and all-natural wheat field births where Jesus himself was the midwife. If I had never heard a birth story other than my own I wouldn’t feel this way at all. Which is probably an indication I need to get away from the computer more often. But with every joyful, triumphant, glowing story about a natural childbirth I wonder…could I do that? Do I even care if I do that or is it a weird form of social peer-pressure and misplaced guilt?

This pregnancy is clearly to blame for all my thoughts about my last birth, since I hope to experience another one in the not too distant future. But do I want the same one?

(Sidenote: E thinks I’m a crazy person for even considering doing things differently. What kind of person decides their birth was too easy and too painless? A crazy one, that’s who. Which means any of the husband-coached pain management techniques are probably out – my coach is too skeptical to be truly helpful.)

p.s. As silly as this sounds, one of the reasons I feel I have to give this birth so much more thought is my day after Christmas due date. I have horrible fantasies of a doctor who doesn’t want to miss his kids opening presents and insists I get a c-section so he can be home in time for dinner. Not that I think that would ACTUALLY happen. Probably not. Right?

p.p.s. And THEN I start thinking of the mothers who didn’t end up with a healthy baby in the end and think I’m being totally selfish for spending so much time thinking about trivial details. I imagine those mothers would sign up for unmedicated c-sections if it meant they could have their babies back.

Regarding comments: Please feel free to share your experiences and birth stories. I love reading them, especially the good kind – and by good kind I mean any that you were happy with. But if you use the phrase “women have been giving birth for thousands of years” or “your body was designed for birth so of COURSE you can do it naturally” you’re going to get some epic eye rolling on my part. I’m not looking for a bunch of “you go gurl!!!” support. If I DO decide to do things differently this time I will let you know I am open to all the womanly power affirmations you can think of.