Not that this deserves its own post but I wanted to correct a theory I had yesterday. Despite not consuming the spoiled chocolate milk, I was fortunate enough to vomit violently in the middle of the night last night, and I can say with certainty, it did not start labor.
I told my sister when I talked to her earlier, and she wanted to know what I ate. The answer is pot roast. Just plain meat and potatoes. Nothing that should have caused such a thing. Of course, I had some chocolate through the evening, as well, but again, not what one might consider risky.
What caused it? I can only assume a foot, a hand, or some smashed digestive organs that are getting overworked and underpaid at this stage in the game. Every day that he stays put brings me closer to the next battle with the toilet in the middle of the night. Last night I thought I was done but wasn't and couldn't make it past the sink.
I let Mr. W know that some drain opener may be in order in the next few days.
If had a way to do it right here and now, I would flip the bird to everyone who has ever said they loved being pregnant.
Bah.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Movements
Baby movements at this point have become eerily similar to every horror movie I have seen where some creature rips open a person's belly and climbs out. They are basically just pressure and rolling back and forth on the inside. The little fellow doesn't have much room to move and from what I am feeling on the outside, it is a lot like when we give the dog a bath or wrap the cat in a towel to take him to the vet. They writhe around with all their strength to try to break free at some point by looking for an arm or a leg hole in that towel that just isn't there.
I have become addicted to chocolate milk in the last week and have found that enjoying one right before bed eases some of the heartburn discomfort that still shows up by about 3am, of course, but it only wakes me once a night instead of two or three times. I never thought I would enjoy chocolate milk again in my life. I really didn't care for it much when I was a kid, other than the chocolate making it more tolerable to ingest. Right now it tastes like the most delicious Rolaids in the world, so that is cool. I imagine Mr. Tanner thinks it is pretty good, and it certainly isn't bad for him, so I have been downing one about every evening. While I was out today, I picked up a bottle only to get home and realize it was expired. Thankfully, this was before I started to drink it. Had I tried drinking sour milk at this point, I am pretty sure I would puke everywhere. Actually, though, that might help to start contractions, so maybe I screwed up by reading the date. In any case, Mr. W has been assigned the task of picking up a new one on his way home from watching the sucky Bengals game at a friend's house. He is on cloud 9 right now because his horrible team actually won the game. If there is one thing I cannot seem to get into, it is the Bengals. I can see it now. He will inflict that awful team on my child and lead him to years of watching with heartache while his team sucks their way through season upon season. I would like to think that they may be a decent team again some day, but since I was not even in my teens the last time they were any good, I am not counting on it. Of course, he will already be cursed with being a Buckeye fan, which at any given time can provide the same blistering heartache, so I guess there is no point in trying to prevent it. I told Mr. W that instead of hating the Yankees, he should try liking them. At least they win a lot. He pointed out a few big losses they have had in recent years, but did have to agree, pound for pound, they have stomped on the Reds for many years. We had a similar discussion while watching Florida beat up on Kentucky last night in college football. I just don't understand how all these farm boys in Ohio and Kentucky are not stomping all over the southerners in sports. Maybe it has more to do with brains than brawn. I don't know.
We also decided that we would really like to see Tanner grow up and play something really well. Then I could be an obnoxious cheering mom and he could be the proud potbelly dad that we would be so good at being. Embarrassing our kid from one game to the next. It could be fun times. I prefer that he plays football, mostly because I enjoy watching it the most. Mr. W says he doesn't care. The only downside would be the injuries, so I need to keep drinking that chocolate milk so my little man has strong bones. Yep, watching my baby trample someone else's kid sounds like a fair shake from the heartburn and backaches of these recent days.
I have become addicted to chocolate milk in the last week and have found that enjoying one right before bed eases some of the heartburn discomfort that still shows up by about 3am, of course, but it only wakes me once a night instead of two or three times. I never thought I would enjoy chocolate milk again in my life. I really didn't care for it much when I was a kid, other than the chocolate making it more tolerable to ingest. Right now it tastes like the most delicious Rolaids in the world, so that is cool. I imagine Mr. Tanner thinks it is pretty good, and it certainly isn't bad for him, so I have been downing one about every evening. While I was out today, I picked up a bottle only to get home and realize it was expired. Thankfully, this was before I started to drink it. Had I tried drinking sour milk at this point, I am pretty sure I would puke everywhere. Actually, though, that might help to start contractions, so maybe I screwed up by reading the date. In any case, Mr. W has been assigned the task of picking up a new one on his way home from watching the sucky Bengals game at a friend's house. He is on cloud 9 right now because his horrible team actually won the game. If there is one thing I cannot seem to get into, it is the Bengals. I can see it now. He will inflict that awful team on my child and lead him to years of watching with heartache while his team sucks their way through season upon season. I would like to think that they may be a decent team again some day, but since I was not even in my teens the last time they were any good, I am not counting on it. Of course, he will already be cursed with being a Buckeye fan, which at any given time can provide the same blistering heartache, so I guess there is no point in trying to prevent it. I told Mr. W that instead of hating the Yankees, he should try liking them. At least they win a lot. He pointed out a few big losses they have had in recent years, but did have to agree, pound for pound, they have stomped on the Reds for many years. We had a similar discussion while watching Florida beat up on Kentucky last night in college football. I just don't understand how all these farm boys in Ohio and Kentucky are not stomping all over the southerners in sports. Maybe it has more to do with brains than brawn. I don't know.
We also decided that we would really like to see Tanner grow up and play something really well. Then I could be an obnoxious cheering mom and he could be the proud potbelly dad that we would be so good at being. Embarrassing our kid from one game to the next. It could be fun times. I prefer that he plays football, mostly because I enjoy watching it the most. Mr. W says he doesn't care. The only downside would be the injuries, so I need to keep drinking that chocolate milk so my little man has strong bones. Yep, watching my baby trample someone else's kid sounds like a fair shake from the heartburn and backaches of these recent days.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Anytime, now
I went to see the doctor yesterday and he told me not to come back. He said he will continue to tell me this for the rest of my pregnancy. In other words, the baby is done cooking. He can come out any time. I know, because he is his father's son, that he is perfectly content in there, relaxing, while I do the work. Everything in my body is being pushed up my throat, so it is time for him to let it go and get ready to show up. Really, anytime is OK. There are only 4 days left of September, so he should be getting ready to pop out and say hello. The day we hit the due date, I will probably lose my mind.
The report at the Dr. was as follows. No progress, aka no dilation, I was negative for Strep B, which means no antibiotics while I deliver, so that is cool. Other than that, poop. Nothing to report except we are scheduled for an ultrasound on the 5th, followed by my appointment. At that point I will be 39 weeks and 1 day. I will be begging for mercy and to schedule some sort of induction, too. I can go another week. No big deal. The not knowing part is tough, though. Sitting here, wondering if he may decide to do something more dramatic and show up at an inopportune moment makes one hesitant to go do much of anything that wouldn't be considered necessary. Now, I know that a good majority of women never have their water break until they are already waiting to deliver at the hospital. There is always that other group, though, and being out in public with a massive flood falling from my pants scares me just a little. It is hard enough to not pee your pants at this point, but adding insult to injury with a flood that might not go unnoticed by anyone in the area is a pretty unhappy thought. I mean, what do you even say if that happens? I have come up with a lot of clever responses to embarrassing situations in my life, but that one leaves me high and dry. My initial thought is that I would run to the nearest door, hoping that no one spots me, while some poor teenage kid has to get out a mop and do a cleanup in aisle 4. Would I have the moxie to tell someone that there was a puddle in need of a mop? I am thinking no. Putting my head down and waddling away as quickly as possible seem to be the only viable solutions I can come up with.
And to that point, I know you can have "contractions" for weeks before things really get going. I am now at the point where I can't tell the Dr. if I am having anything because I have cramps and lower back pain off and on, but certainly nothing that I would say was strong or frequent enough to require medical attention or even much discussion.
For example, this morning Mr. W was a little alarmed because I was having some pretty bad chest pains on the left side. I noticed after shifting my body around a little that they went away. "Please do not have a heart attack" he says to me. OK, I will do my best. Instead, the big bundle of joy repositioned himself and now the pain is in the right side of my lower back. I think, from this point on, there will always be pain. If I can keep it away from my vital organs I may be able to prevent any alarm and continue about my days without much drama. From what I can tell, that pain has 2 arms and 2 legs and a healthy size little butt and head that require their own space and they are getting a little cramped. Lucky me that my body seems to be so good at carrying a baby that I will just keep going and going like the energizer bunny until every millimeter of space is used up and my small intestines start to protrude from my nose.
The report at the Dr. was as follows. No progress, aka no dilation, I was negative for Strep B, which means no antibiotics while I deliver, so that is cool. Other than that, poop. Nothing to report except we are scheduled for an ultrasound on the 5th, followed by my appointment. At that point I will be 39 weeks and 1 day. I will be begging for mercy and to schedule some sort of induction, too. I can go another week. No big deal. The not knowing part is tough, though. Sitting here, wondering if he may decide to do something more dramatic and show up at an inopportune moment makes one hesitant to go do much of anything that wouldn't be considered necessary. Now, I know that a good majority of women never have their water break until they are already waiting to deliver at the hospital. There is always that other group, though, and being out in public with a massive flood falling from my pants scares me just a little. It is hard enough to not pee your pants at this point, but adding insult to injury with a flood that might not go unnoticed by anyone in the area is a pretty unhappy thought. I mean, what do you even say if that happens? I have come up with a lot of clever responses to embarrassing situations in my life, but that one leaves me high and dry. My initial thought is that I would run to the nearest door, hoping that no one spots me, while some poor teenage kid has to get out a mop and do a cleanup in aisle 4. Would I have the moxie to tell someone that there was a puddle in need of a mop? I am thinking no. Putting my head down and waddling away as quickly as possible seem to be the only viable solutions I can come up with.
And to that point, I know you can have "contractions" for weeks before things really get going. I am now at the point where I can't tell the Dr. if I am having anything because I have cramps and lower back pain off and on, but certainly nothing that I would say was strong or frequent enough to require medical attention or even much discussion.
For example, this morning Mr. W was a little alarmed because I was having some pretty bad chest pains on the left side. I noticed after shifting my body around a little that they went away. "Please do not have a heart attack" he says to me. OK, I will do my best. Instead, the big bundle of joy repositioned himself and now the pain is in the right side of my lower back. I think, from this point on, there will always be pain. If I can keep it away from my vital organs I may be able to prevent any alarm and continue about my days without much drama. From what I can tell, that pain has 2 arms and 2 legs and a healthy size little butt and head that require their own space and they are getting a little cramped. Lucky me that my body seems to be so good at carrying a baby that I will just keep going and going like the energizer bunny until every millimeter of space is used up and my small intestines start to protrude from my nose.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
All I wanted was my Mr. Pibb
I am done. I just got off the phone with Mr. W. I called him at work and started crying and he laughed. I was getting ready to have lunch when I knocked my Mr. Pibb off the desk and onto the printer, down the side of the desk, and all over the new carpet. My belly did it. As Mr. W said, the baby knocked over the Mr. Pibb. The baby also prevents me from moving the desk, to get to the printer, which is in very tight quarters, picking up the printer with any authority, and cleaning up the sticky mess that is settling down there right now. I waddled off to grab a towel only to realize how futile my efforts were and just started to cry. I am done.
I was able to get most of the ice pulled out of the crack between the desk and the printer table, but I know what a disaster is forming down there right now and honestly, it is a little more than I can handle at the moment.
Most things are a little more than I can handle right now. I have hit the end of my rope. I know I only have a few weeks left, but those may as well be months right now. Every day brings a new challenge or ache or accident caused by my awkward belly, hips, swollen feet or whatever else makes it impossible to function normally.
That Dugger lady is an idiot. Who in the world could do this 18 times and give it another go? Sorry, but you have enough kids, lady. You are a moron and must be truly masochistic. I want to smack her, and if I were around her, I would.
Even as the little bubble in my belly pops around, probably giggling because he knows mommy is at her wit's end, I think how much I want him out. I just want to hug him and then start telling him how much he put me through. "I carried you for 9 months". Oh yes, there is a reason women say this. For me, the biggest reason is month 9. 19 more days according to the ultrasounds we had earlier in the pregnancy, so that will be quite enough, thanks. To be honest, 8 or 9 more days would do just fine. Get me to October, and then get the pumpkin out. My last set work appointment is on September 30. That gives him the 1st through the 11th to show up on his own before I start trying handstands and other crazy methods. Not to mention Mr. W's mom heard by him or me that the doctor could induce at 39 weeks. She now has this set in her mind as the baby's birthday. I guess she thinks this is like ordering a Big Mac. Not exactly. My guess is that the doctor will choose not to schedule me for a Sunday induction, anyway, but there is no point trying to explain this to her.
Meanwhile, my heartburn is trying to eat a hole through my chest and I have to sleep nearly sitting up. My ankles look like there are weights on them, but there aren't. They are just big and fat and scary. I want to go lay down right now, and even though I should be working, I think I may. I just don't have it in me today. Maybe tomorrow I will, but today, I feel like giving up.
I was able to get most of the ice pulled out of the crack between the desk and the printer table, but I know what a disaster is forming down there right now and honestly, it is a little more than I can handle at the moment.
Most things are a little more than I can handle right now. I have hit the end of my rope. I know I only have a few weeks left, but those may as well be months right now. Every day brings a new challenge or ache or accident caused by my awkward belly, hips, swollen feet or whatever else makes it impossible to function normally.
That Dugger lady is an idiot. Who in the world could do this 18 times and give it another go? Sorry, but you have enough kids, lady. You are a moron and must be truly masochistic. I want to smack her, and if I were around her, I would.
Even as the little bubble in my belly pops around, probably giggling because he knows mommy is at her wit's end, I think how much I want him out. I just want to hug him and then start telling him how much he put me through. "I carried you for 9 months". Oh yes, there is a reason women say this. For me, the biggest reason is month 9. 19 more days according to the ultrasounds we had earlier in the pregnancy, so that will be quite enough, thanks. To be honest, 8 or 9 more days would do just fine. Get me to October, and then get the pumpkin out. My last set work appointment is on September 30. That gives him the 1st through the 11th to show up on his own before I start trying handstands and other crazy methods. Not to mention Mr. W's mom heard by him or me that the doctor could induce at 39 weeks. She now has this set in her mind as the baby's birthday. I guess she thinks this is like ordering a Big Mac. Not exactly. My guess is that the doctor will choose not to schedule me for a Sunday induction, anyway, but there is no point trying to explain this to her.
Meanwhile, my heartburn is trying to eat a hole through my chest and I have to sleep nearly sitting up. My ankles look like there are weights on them, but there aren't. They are just big and fat and scary. I want to go lay down right now, and even though I should be working, I think I may. I just don't have it in me today. Maybe tomorrow I will, but today, I feel like giving up.
Monday, September 21, 2009
If only brith were so easy...
So I had made an appointment to see the dermatologist today about a couple little surprises that have popped up since being pregnant. Primarily a lump on the side of my nose that I at first thought was a zit, only to realize a month later was not. Now, I had some cysts removed a few years ago...ok, maybe several years ago now, from my earlobes, so I am thinking that is what this is. Not really painful other than where it chose to locate itself being kind of inconvenient and intrusive on my nose and sinuses. I also had the glorious appearance of skin tags to thank little Mr. Tanner for. While most stayed out of the way, and very small, there was one that really bugged me in the center of my neckline, right about where my necklaces hit, and of course it was larger than the others.
I set up to see the dermatologist thinking I might get looked over and schedule a removal for after the baby is here, however, after about 15 minutes in the office with my new favorite Doogie Howser clone, it is gone, and the cyst on my nose is being attacked by lidocane.
This guy looked all of 18, but when he said that he could do a few things to me while I was pregnant that would not hurt the baby, I just about hugged him. He also warned me the shot to my nose would probably hurt like hell. I braced myself, but to my surprise, it certainly wasn't any worse than having an eyebrow wax. If only childbirth were going to be this easy. I imagine it will not be.
Yes, the new Doogie is the best. I have to wonder how old this guy is. I know I had to give him a look when he walked in the door. I didn't mean to, but damn. When your doctor looks like he could be your kid and you are pregnant with your first kid, it kind of makes you wonder what the hell you have been doing with all the years in your life. Needless to say, since he is part of the largest and most well respected dermatology offices in the city, I trust that he must have a clue. I will report back to let you know if the cyst is dissolving and my newly clear neckline is to my liking. As of now, I am overjoyed, as anyone who can make me feel like less of a frump at 9 months pregnant is my hero.
Go Doogie. I already have the paperwork for Mr. W's first appointment. He has a fear of these things I think, but he needs to suck it up for comfort and self esteem benefits.
I set up to see the dermatologist thinking I might get looked over and schedule a removal for after the baby is here, however, after about 15 minutes in the office with my new favorite Doogie Howser clone, it is gone, and the cyst on my nose is being attacked by lidocane.
This guy looked all of 18, but when he said that he could do a few things to me while I was pregnant that would not hurt the baby, I just about hugged him. He also warned me the shot to my nose would probably hurt like hell. I braced myself, but to my surprise, it certainly wasn't any worse than having an eyebrow wax. If only childbirth were going to be this easy. I imagine it will not be.
Yes, the new Doogie is the best. I have to wonder how old this guy is. I know I had to give him a look when he walked in the door. I didn't mean to, but damn. When your doctor looks like he could be your kid and you are pregnant with your first kid, it kind of makes you wonder what the hell you have been doing with all the years in your life. Needless to say, since he is part of the largest and most well respected dermatology offices in the city, I trust that he must have a clue. I will report back to let you know if the cyst is dissolving and my newly clear neckline is to my liking. As of now, I am overjoyed, as anyone who can make me feel like less of a frump at 9 months pregnant is my hero.
Go Doogie. I already have the paperwork for Mr. W's first appointment. He has a fear of these things I think, but he needs to suck it up for comfort and self esteem benefits.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
We made it...
So we did it. Today we are official at 37 weeks by all counts, and that means that the little man on the inside is fully cooked. He may make an entrance as he pleases. In one way this is sort of a relief, on the other hand, I now have the next 4 weeks to wonder about when he will decide the time is right.
I have stuck to my feelings that he will not be early, at least not by much. October 3 and October 13th are my betting numbers. One, because 13 came up so much at the beginning of the pregnancy, and two, because I just kind of had a feeling about the 3rd. Realistically, though, the Dr. wouldn't induce until the 4th, and would induce by the 18th, based on what he tells me, so we have a window there of many possibilities if Baby W decides to remain low profile for the next month. I have a lot to do, so he really kind of needs to stay put for another week and a half, at the least. I would prefer he stay put for 2, only because I imagine the last couple days before he rears his head, I will be feeling pretty lousy.
Walking has become such a hassle. I was trying to waddle around the grocery today and it literally took all the energy I had to push the cart. By the time I was putting everything away in the kitchen, I could hear the theme song from Rocky playing in my head and could practically see Mickey and Apollo in the back of the refrigerator when I was bending over to put things up. "You can do it" they were saying. They have all the faith in the world in this fat, pregnant, tired, swollen woman. The good news is that because I was able to accomplish my task at the grocery, I now have many options for snacks later on when I get hungry, including but not limited to brownies, cookies and some Halloween candy bars. Nothing like finishing up a pregnancy around Halloween when the treats are bountiful.
I feel like I want to do nothing but sleep all day. If I could, I would. Seriously, I have never felt such a closeness with my bed and pillow as I do now. I tried scrubbing the bath and shower yesterday and realized that my inability to bend for more than a few seconds has pretty severely hindered my ability to clean with any degree of effectiveness. I noticed streaks in the tub today and just couldn't get the motivation together to get in and re scrub it.
I really need to mop the floor but the thought of pushing a mop around makes me want to throw up as I sit here, typing. Maybe if I have a cookie and rest for a little bit, I will change my mind. meanwhile, I will leave Baby W where he is to bake and drop down into launch position.
Be it in a day or 4 weeks, he will be here soon. Mommy is ready.
I have stuck to my feelings that he will not be early, at least not by much. October 3 and October 13th are my betting numbers. One, because 13 came up so much at the beginning of the pregnancy, and two, because I just kind of had a feeling about the 3rd. Realistically, though, the Dr. wouldn't induce until the 4th, and would induce by the 18th, based on what he tells me, so we have a window there of many possibilities if Baby W decides to remain low profile for the next month. I have a lot to do, so he really kind of needs to stay put for another week and a half, at the least. I would prefer he stay put for 2, only because I imagine the last couple days before he rears his head, I will be feeling pretty lousy.
Walking has become such a hassle. I was trying to waddle around the grocery today and it literally took all the energy I had to push the cart. By the time I was putting everything away in the kitchen, I could hear the theme song from Rocky playing in my head and could practically see Mickey and Apollo in the back of the refrigerator when I was bending over to put things up. "You can do it" they were saying. They have all the faith in the world in this fat, pregnant, tired, swollen woman. The good news is that because I was able to accomplish my task at the grocery, I now have many options for snacks later on when I get hungry, including but not limited to brownies, cookies and some Halloween candy bars. Nothing like finishing up a pregnancy around Halloween when the treats are bountiful.
I feel like I want to do nothing but sleep all day. If I could, I would. Seriously, I have never felt such a closeness with my bed and pillow as I do now. I tried scrubbing the bath and shower yesterday and realized that my inability to bend for more than a few seconds has pretty severely hindered my ability to clean with any degree of effectiveness. I noticed streaks in the tub today and just couldn't get the motivation together to get in and re scrub it.
I really need to mop the floor but the thought of pushing a mop around makes me want to throw up as I sit here, typing. Maybe if I have a cookie and rest for a little bit, I will change my mind. meanwhile, I will leave Baby W where he is to bake and drop down into launch position.
Be it in a day or 4 weeks, he will be here soon. Mommy is ready.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
What's worse than being 9 months pregnant?
Being 9 months pregnant with a sinus infection. That was me just last week. Thankfully, I was able to get some antibiotics from the doctor which improved the situation right away. It didn't clear it up, I am still filled with snot and all that good stuff, but at least I felt like a human being again. I had no idea the amount of miserable I could be until last Thursday. There I was, going to a work appointment because I felt like I had to, trying to keep my nose from dripping on the table, hurrying to the bathroom on my way in and out the door, breaking out in a sweat that may have been due to fever or to pregnancy, I really can't be certain, and also, realizing that my boobs have started leaking on top of the watering eyes that I had from my sinus pressure.
Could I have been more miserable? Maybe, but it probably would have involved a critical illness, serious injury, or some form of torture.
Speaking of that, I can tell you what is worse than being 9 months pregnant with an awful sinus infection. I saw a show on the History channel the other night, I think it was. They were illustrating several Roman torture devices. One that stands out is a giant wagon/Ferris wheel that they tied people to, spun them in circles and had either metal spikes or a fire pit at the bottom. That would be worse than the pregnant/cold combo.
Also, there was a giant "human press" that they used. It worked about like it sounds. Two giant flat boards that would be screwed together to smash a human inside until it would actually crush bone. Heinous, alright. Not only is it shocking to imagine that these were actually used, I have to wonder what kind of sick f*cker came up with that. Seriously.
Now that is someone having a very sucky day. That trumps me for sure.
Could I have been more miserable? Maybe, but it probably would have involved a critical illness, serious injury, or some form of torture.
Speaking of that, I can tell you what is worse than being 9 months pregnant with an awful sinus infection. I saw a show on the History channel the other night, I think it was. They were illustrating several Roman torture devices. One that stands out is a giant wagon/Ferris wheel that they tied people to, spun them in circles and had either metal spikes or a fire pit at the bottom. That would be worse than the pregnant/cold combo.
Also, there was a giant "human press" that they used. It worked about like it sounds. Two giant flat boards that would be screwed together to smash a human inside until it would actually crush bone. Heinous, alright. Not only is it shocking to imagine that these were actually used, I have to wonder what kind of sick f*cker came up with that. Seriously.
Now that is someone having a very sucky day. That trumps me for sure.
My baby is spoiled
And he has no clue. He just floats around all day, jabbing at my organs to fight for more room. He really isn't that bad at this point, other than the fact that I feel like I have a baby whale stuffed in there. Watch, he probably only weighs 4 pounds or so.
So the girls had a shower for me this past weekend and let me tell you, if I ever felt bad about getting gifts from people, I am beginning to think that the tendency for people to go above and beyond for babies makes me feel even more spoiled than I could have even imagined. The shower was really nice with all the Dr. Seuss characters being represented and a surprise cake appearance by baby Shrek, as well. The cake, by the way was delicious, and to be honest, I may have to stop typing here in a minute just to eat some before dinner while Mr. W is away at the gym. Of course, he is so neat and mature that he dug his fork into it, rather than to trouble himself to cut off a piece, so I have to cut around his little "rat nibbles". Disgusting. And I am getting ready to add another man into this household. God help me.
I got so many nice things for this baby I am starting to forget that it is for him and not me. In fact, some of his little toys are so charming, I want to pull the tags off and have a go at them. Not to mention the blankets. The baby blankets these days seem to be made of the softest fabrics I have ever encountered. I want a giant one for my bed.
Seriously, though, I was very impressed and touched and feeling the love this past weekend, so a big thank you to all the girls for ringing in this baby with me. Only a few weeks left, and he certainly won't be needing for anything if he arrives sooner!
So the girls had a shower for me this past weekend and let me tell you, if I ever felt bad about getting gifts from people, I am beginning to think that the tendency for people to go above and beyond for babies makes me feel even more spoiled than I could have even imagined. The shower was really nice with all the Dr. Seuss characters being represented and a surprise cake appearance by baby Shrek, as well. The cake, by the way was delicious, and to be honest, I may have to stop typing here in a minute just to eat some before dinner while Mr. W is away at the gym. Of course, he is so neat and mature that he dug his fork into it, rather than to trouble himself to cut off a piece, so I have to cut around his little "rat nibbles". Disgusting. And I am getting ready to add another man into this household. God help me.
I got so many nice things for this baby I am starting to forget that it is for him and not me. In fact, some of his little toys are so charming, I want to pull the tags off and have a go at them. Not to mention the blankets. The baby blankets these days seem to be made of the softest fabrics I have ever encountered. I want a giant one for my bed.
Seriously, though, I was very impressed and touched and feeling the love this past weekend, so a big thank you to all the girls for ringing in this baby with me. Only a few weeks left, and he certainly won't be needing for anything if he arrives sooner!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Almost done...
We are finally done "building" the room for the baby. What I mean by this is that we have moved everything heavy and big and bulky into the room at this point and are now on the way to just putting things "in place". Mr. W and I went out and bought a glider Sunday and everyone seems to think it belongs to them. Not to be an attentive husband to his 8 month pregnant wife, Mr. W stomped his feet and moaned when I sat in the chair as soon as it was in the room. We got the cushions on it and I put his little matching blanket over the back and plopped down into the cushiness to give it a go. I think we definitely made a good choice, since it seems like a chair I could easily pass out in during the middle of the night. Speaking of passing out, I feel like I could easily take a nap right now.
In fact, I feel like taking a nap most of the time, most days. It doesn't help that I really want to get a few more things done at work before I become worthless and check out. Unfortunately, right now I have a cold, which I am seriously hoping is not the swine flu, to overcome as well.
Mr. W and my sister keep saying not to joke about it. Well, if I don't joke about it, I will be as paranoid as they are about it. Being pregnant in the middle of an outbreak of a killer flu during flu season with a lowered immune system and not very many options as far as what is permissible to take is not exactly a picnic. I did get some fast acting Tylenol Cold or Tylenol Sinus and I have to admit, they help a little. A little is a whole lot more than nothing right now, so I am thankful that these were on my list of things to take. I also have cough drops and nasal spray and antibiotic ointment. Not that the ointment will help much, but just in case I get a nasty cut, I can handle that, too.
Right now I have no fever, and am generally just feeling miserable, so I guess that is a good thing and maybe it can be attributed to sinus issues. I say I don't have a fever, but I haven't actually taken my temperature. Mr. W and I both agree that I don't feel hot. I do have a thermometer I could use but that would require digging it out of the medicine cabinet, so instead, I sit here waiting for the next dose of Tylenol to kick in.
The bad news is that I have absolutely no desire to clean anything or get anything ready for the baby, so I hope that this passes quickly because I don't have the time to wait around for a slow going virus or infection to make its way through my body. I think a hot shower sounds wonderful right now and will probably drag myself into one here, soon.
So I have to say, we got that glider just in time. Mom needs a break and some time in the bed. Of course, I will still be doing work when I can so I don't have more catch up to do or waste any sick time I may need later. I also have my shower this weekend and it would be nice if I am able to go. If not, I guess I will have to send Mr. W on my behalf. It would really be a shame if that happened and I wasn't there to witness it.
In fact, I feel like taking a nap most of the time, most days. It doesn't help that I really want to get a few more things done at work before I become worthless and check out. Unfortunately, right now I have a cold, which I am seriously hoping is not the swine flu, to overcome as well.
Mr. W and my sister keep saying not to joke about it. Well, if I don't joke about it, I will be as paranoid as they are about it. Being pregnant in the middle of an outbreak of a killer flu during flu season with a lowered immune system and not very many options as far as what is permissible to take is not exactly a picnic. I did get some fast acting Tylenol Cold or Tylenol Sinus and I have to admit, they help a little. A little is a whole lot more than nothing right now, so I am thankful that these were on my list of things to take. I also have cough drops and nasal spray and antibiotic ointment. Not that the ointment will help much, but just in case I get a nasty cut, I can handle that, too.
Right now I have no fever, and am generally just feeling miserable, so I guess that is a good thing and maybe it can be attributed to sinus issues. I say I don't have a fever, but I haven't actually taken my temperature. Mr. W and I both agree that I don't feel hot. I do have a thermometer I could use but that would require digging it out of the medicine cabinet, so instead, I sit here waiting for the next dose of Tylenol to kick in.
The bad news is that I have absolutely no desire to clean anything or get anything ready for the baby, so I hope that this passes quickly because I don't have the time to wait around for a slow going virus or infection to make its way through my body. I think a hot shower sounds wonderful right now and will probably drag myself into one here, soon.
So I have to say, we got that glider just in time. Mom needs a break and some time in the bed. Of course, I will still be doing work when I can so I don't have more catch up to do or waste any sick time I may need later. I also have my shower this weekend and it would be nice if I am able to go. If not, I guess I will have to send Mr. W on my behalf. It would really be a shame if that happened and I wasn't there to witness it.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
In the way
A blessing of pregnancy that I haven't commented much on, with good reason, is certainly due its mention at this point. The reason it hasn't come up until now is that the farther along you get, the more noticeable it becomes. I am talking about the baby bump, aka the enormous blob sticking out front. Many pregnant women lovingly refer to this as a bump, I call it a blob or my giant belly, but never a bump. At least not anymore.
It is very odd having something like this grow so quickly off the front of your torso. At first it is just the little things, like your pants getting tight, not buttoning, can't see the old toes anymore, and other things like that. Then it progresses into new territory.
As an example, one of the first things you realize is that your balance is completely off. I stumbled backwards on a flat surface one day for no reason. You find yourself placing your hand on your back or under that "bump"(if that is what you want to call it), to take a little stress off of the rest of your body. You skin begins to tighten and itch and the stretch marks come out to say hello. A lot of women, I think especially young girls who get this, find it to be very upsetting. I am not really worried since I will not be in any bikini contests in the future and likely won't be modeling underwear. For me, they came at the very bottom and top of my belly. A lot of women get these around their belly button. Mine aren't showing there yet, but that doesn't mean they won't. All I can say is that they itch like you have some sort of filthy disease and the ones up top are a little disturbing because I didn't really expect any around my rib cage.
If you get past them with no problem, there is still more fun around the corner. One of the great experiences is when you realize just how hard it is getting to breathe or eat because of all that baby stuffed up in your ribs. Sitting up has never been so hard since I was in 4th grade gym class being timed. Not being able to bend at the waist and hip area makes it tough to do those little things you take for granted like getting out of bed to pee in the middle of the night or picking up laundry from the floor.
These were all things I sort of anticipated, though, so I know it is just a matter of toughing it out for a few more weeks and I will be able to breathe and sit up again.
What is getting on my nerves is the things I never thought of. At least twice now, I have slammed the car door into my belly when I tried shutting it. This is pretty unpleasant and results in a nasty little bruise. Part of the problem is that I have two cars that I drive regularly, and both are pretty lousy for a pregnant woman to get in and out of. Normally, I hop right in and Mr. W is the one complaining. Not anymore. I can either crawl into my Celica or hoist my giant self into my Wrangler. Actually, the Wrangler isn't so bad to get in and out of, the challenge there is getting the top on. When it starts raining suddenly, I have to climb onto the foot rails and hold on for dear life to get the front lip of the top tucked in. The first time I realized this was a problem was after doing so, when I was driving on the highway and noticed it was coming loose. I am here to tell you, it is a very scary feeling knowing that the roof of your car is peeling off while you are doing 65. That was a few months ago, and it is now Mr. W's job to make sure that is tucked in safely when I put it up, since he can still reach.
I also have knocked over more than one cup of coffee while leaning over my desk. This is a double insult because I then have to try waddling around quickly to find a way to clean it all up. Fitting into a booth at a restaurant is no longer easy. I never know when my belly is going to be smashed up against the table, which is not only humiliating, it is also pretty uncomfortable when you are trying to eat.
Fitting through a tight space has never been tougher. Your first instinct is to always turn sideways. At some point, I have realized that this is no longer a good idea and that I have a better chance of fitting with my arms up over my head and my hips angled just a little. I realized this when I nearly ended up pinned between a wall and a woman at a buffet line in a church basement. She was way too busy with her plate to make an effort to shrink herself.
Yep...a lot of people call this thing a bump.
A speed bump, maybe. One that keeps me from doing anything quickly or without an extra step involved.
It is very odd having something like this grow so quickly off the front of your torso. At first it is just the little things, like your pants getting tight, not buttoning, can't see the old toes anymore, and other things like that. Then it progresses into new territory.
As an example, one of the first things you realize is that your balance is completely off. I stumbled backwards on a flat surface one day for no reason. You find yourself placing your hand on your back or under that "bump"(if that is what you want to call it), to take a little stress off of the rest of your body. You skin begins to tighten and itch and the stretch marks come out to say hello. A lot of women, I think especially young girls who get this, find it to be very upsetting. I am not really worried since I will not be in any bikini contests in the future and likely won't be modeling underwear. For me, they came at the very bottom and top of my belly. A lot of women get these around their belly button. Mine aren't showing there yet, but that doesn't mean they won't. All I can say is that they itch like you have some sort of filthy disease and the ones up top are a little disturbing because I didn't really expect any around my rib cage.
If you get past them with no problem, there is still more fun around the corner. One of the great experiences is when you realize just how hard it is getting to breathe or eat because of all that baby stuffed up in your ribs. Sitting up has never been so hard since I was in 4th grade gym class being timed. Not being able to bend at the waist and hip area makes it tough to do those little things you take for granted like getting out of bed to pee in the middle of the night or picking up laundry from the floor.
These were all things I sort of anticipated, though, so I know it is just a matter of toughing it out for a few more weeks and I will be able to breathe and sit up again.
What is getting on my nerves is the things I never thought of. At least twice now, I have slammed the car door into my belly when I tried shutting it. This is pretty unpleasant and results in a nasty little bruise. Part of the problem is that I have two cars that I drive regularly, and both are pretty lousy for a pregnant woman to get in and out of. Normally, I hop right in and Mr. W is the one complaining. Not anymore. I can either crawl into my Celica or hoist my giant self into my Wrangler. Actually, the Wrangler isn't so bad to get in and out of, the challenge there is getting the top on. When it starts raining suddenly, I have to climb onto the foot rails and hold on for dear life to get the front lip of the top tucked in. The first time I realized this was a problem was after doing so, when I was driving on the highway and noticed it was coming loose. I am here to tell you, it is a very scary feeling knowing that the roof of your car is peeling off while you are doing 65. That was a few months ago, and it is now Mr. W's job to make sure that is tucked in safely when I put it up, since he can still reach.
I also have knocked over more than one cup of coffee while leaning over my desk. This is a double insult because I then have to try waddling around quickly to find a way to clean it all up. Fitting into a booth at a restaurant is no longer easy. I never know when my belly is going to be smashed up against the table, which is not only humiliating, it is also pretty uncomfortable when you are trying to eat.
Fitting through a tight space has never been tougher. Your first instinct is to always turn sideways. At some point, I have realized that this is no longer a good idea and that I have a better chance of fitting with my arms up over my head and my hips angled just a little. I realized this when I nearly ended up pinned between a wall and a woman at a buffet line in a church basement. She was way too busy with her plate to make an effort to shrink herself.
Yep...a lot of people call this thing a bump.
A speed bump, maybe. One that keeps me from doing anything quickly or without an extra step involved.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Big baby or big mommy
So I went to see the doc today and I am now officially on the weekly visit schedule.
I remember when that seemed so far away.
Not anymore.
And after my visit today, I am thinking he may be here sooner than I thought. I was expecting him to stay tucked away in there until I cried and begged for induction at 3 weeks past my due date with a Halloween pumpkin baby. Now I know that the doctor will let me be induced at 41 weeks. I also found out he may be here a little sooner than that.
Part of the routine visits involves a measurement taken from the top of the uterus to the bottom.
This has always been uneventful until today. It started with him taking the measurement about 3 times or so, which I attributed to him not getting the tape quite right or tight enough. Then, as he walked over to check his notes he said "how far along you are again?". "Is something wrong?" was the first thing that came out of my mouth. Now, he didn't specify as to how big I was measuring, but basically told me I would be getting a scan at 38 weeks to check the baby's size. He then pointed out that I could not be induced until 39, but that if there is a linebacker in there, we needed to know.
Um, yea...I might rather not know now that I think about it. He then made a point of letting me know that they would do the scan and make sure we discussed c-sections if that may need to be an option. Um, what?
Just how the hell big are things looking, here? This was coming out of the mouth from the guy who was joking about people asking and planning for a c-section about 5 minutes earlier. At that time, we were both in agreement that it was not the way to go. What kind of measurement called for this quick change in attitude on that subject? I had already told him I had no desire to have a c-section if it could be avoided. His comment to me was that we needed to know what we were dealing with and plan ahead in the event that I would like to be able to pee normally again.
I am keeping with the idea that my baby is normal and that my belly is what is growing. I have nearly one chocolate bar or brownie or some other sweet treat every day, now. Maybe that is the culprit. Did I mention I have a fear of being cut open? I also have a fear of healing from surgery while I have to watch Mr. W be in charge of caring for our child. I also have a fear of additional time spent in the hospital.
Come on, Tanner...get as fat as you want, but please please please, wait until you are out of diapers to grow shoulders like your daddy...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Due next month
So September has finally arrived and now I can say I am "due" next month.
It has certainly seemed like an eternity, but now, things continue to speed up, and the realization that being "mom" is just a few weeks away is really starting to settle in.
I know I am going to be so tired and frustrated and overwhelmed I will want to give up by day 2, but as I was telling Mr. W today, even though I can say "I am tired of being pregnant" all day long, there is no reprieve from being "mom". It is what it is. In a month or so, I will head off to the hospital, shoot out a baby, and they will just pack him up and send him home with me.
Sadly, the pet adoption process is more rigorously supervised than new parenting, from what I can tell.
Today I had a very interesting moment, as probably all new moms do at some point. I was finished with work, and after having eaten some tacos with the urgency of someone who hadn't seen food in days, I found myself sitting and folding tiny clothes and putting them into a drawer, in a room that is empty and waiting to be filled with an owner. It was a very strange feeling. I was putting clothes away for my baby who isn't here, yet. It was nesting, but at the same time, it was scary, because it makes you feel like you are all too sure that everything is OK and will go as planned.
Of course, I have to do these things and get them taken care of while I can still get around, so I am trying to be productive, even if just a little bit at a time. Probably in the coming days the kitchen floor will be scrubbed, and the bathroom and all the deep cleaning will be on the chore list so that by the time I can't walk, I will only need to stand long enough to wipe some things down.
Mrs. W is getting tired and the baby knows it. Just so long as he waits until October to show up. I really want him to have an October birthday. I really wish my birthday was in October. It is in crummy, snowy, January. I also have a lot to do here in September, so he needs to just sit tight until then. One of those things is take a nap. That is something I should do right now. I could do baby stuff, but I don't think I will. There will be plenty of time for that in a month.
It has certainly seemed like an eternity, but now, things continue to speed up, and the realization that being "mom" is just a few weeks away is really starting to settle in.
I know I am going to be so tired and frustrated and overwhelmed I will want to give up by day 2, but as I was telling Mr. W today, even though I can say "I am tired of being pregnant" all day long, there is no reprieve from being "mom". It is what it is. In a month or so, I will head off to the hospital, shoot out a baby, and they will just pack him up and send him home with me.
Sadly, the pet adoption process is more rigorously supervised than new parenting, from what I can tell.
Today I had a very interesting moment, as probably all new moms do at some point. I was finished with work, and after having eaten some tacos with the urgency of someone who hadn't seen food in days, I found myself sitting and folding tiny clothes and putting them into a drawer, in a room that is empty and waiting to be filled with an owner. It was a very strange feeling. I was putting clothes away for my baby who isn't here, yet. It was nesting, but at the same time, it was scary, because it makes you feel like you are all too sure that everything is OK and will go as planned.
Of course, I have to do these things and get them taken care of while I can still get around, so I am trying to be productive, even if just a little bit at a time. Probably in the coming days the kitchen floor will be scrubbed, and the bathroom and all the deep cleaning will be on the chore list so that by the time I can't walk, I will only need to stand long enough to wipe some things down.
Mrs. W is getting tired and the baby knows it. Just so long as he waits until October to show up. I really want him to have an October birthday. I really wish my birthday was in October. It is in crummy, snowy, January. I also have a lot to do here in September, so he needs to just sit tight until then. One of those things is take a nap. That is something I should do right now. I could do baby stuff, but I don't think I will. There will be plenty of time for that in a month.
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