17 Weeks Until Baby Girl! And An Olympic Update

I just read over what I wrote weeks before Olympic Trials. It seems like my heart was unknowingly preparing me for the chance that Matt might not make the Olympic Team. But my heart still has pangs of hurt for my man, who finished third in the event he became Olympic champion in four years ago.

A kiss right after his painful 3rd place finish. Photo Courtesy: Peter Bick

The oddest part of not making the team for Matt is this dead time…this month where he would ordinarily be staying in super nice hotels, fine-tuning his body with Team USA at training camps before the Games. Instead he has loads of time to ruminate on his disappointment. I had prepared for him to be absent for two months as well. But I don’t hate that he’s still around. 🙂

Matt’s not in Rio this August, but he’s still in Vogue! Which is super rad.

The Olympics are everywhere right now. In commercials, the news, magazines, articles, and casual talk (even amongst non-swimmers!). Matt cannot dodge reminders of his “failure” to make the team. It still feels wrong to me that he’s not there, but for every trial there is a reason. I’ve already heard Matt voice his newfound empathy for people who have endured struggles in our sport. Most notably his coach, Rick DeMont, who won Olympic gold in 1972 but was stripped of his medal after testing positive for an asthma medication which the Team USA doctor had cleared. Rick was 16 at the time.

It’s a wonder that he 1. stayed in the sport. And 2. is still coaching the sport. Matt and I cannot imagine the trust issues and bitterness one would have after technically being orphaned by the team doctor, who took no responsibilities for his actions, then physically having to surrender a gold medal you had rightfully won. Disappointment is the fire that shapes precious medals in athletics. I know Matt will come out of this fire in a different form; as an even more extraordinary version of himself. It’s too early to call it a “blessing”. I’ve never not been excited to watch the Olympics, but this year is different. I’m sure we’ll still tune in, but it’s weird seeing a bunch of familiar faces that typically go beside Matt’s on TV.

Our 23-week ultrasound 🙂 Hey girl! Nice spine.

On a lighter, brighter note, I’m still very pregnant! 23 weeks to be (semi) exact. Our ultrasound tech told us at 18 weeks that our girl was measuring like a 20-week-old…but then again, she’s our offspring so of course she’s enormous. But we adjusted the due date in our heads to November 12 after our technician said she’d definitely be arriving well before November 25. But we asked our OB two days ago and she said, “Nah, we’ll keep the due date November 25.” hah. So we’re going to make up a due date. Matt and I, with all of our prenatal expertise, have declared November 20 the new due date.

So with 119 days to go until we meet our baby girl, I’m beginning to enter “nest” phase. I’ve heard about this crazed stage of pregnancy, but it had eluded me until a week ago. Matt was in Chicago so I got to work clearing out the nursery, which had really turned into a storage closet filled with junk I’ve been hoarding for a few years. Matt took an ax to the junkyard couch that was in there…like really, he had a cathartic release by hacking away at this ill-acquired piece of furniture. I started a registry and discovered the difference between a convertible infant seat and a car seat. Also discovered that strollers don’t just come with a baby seat…that’s a car seat transferred to the stroller. Who knew baby gear was so complicated? Well, I kind of did because I’ve attempted and failed to strap my nieces and nephews into their car seats before.

Not our nursery! But totally my nursery inspiration. Our walls are Tiffany’s blue though….so it will be a more vibrant nautical vibe.

Oy vey. I’m just preparing for life shock in that first week. I’m reading a book on baby sleep cycles/routines and realizing how needy these new creatures are in the first weeks of life. Matt and I are 9-hour + per night sleepers. I just hope years of good sleep is hiding in our reserves so we don’t go full zombie by day two of parenting.

Ciao for now!