What’s that? You don’t want to sleep? Or nap? Or rest? You just want to dance and kick constantly?
You’ve decided that forcing yourself up under my ribs to get leverage to push downward into my bladder is fun, have you? And you think that pushing your bum out as faaaar as possible until I’m worried that you’re going to come through my skin is a good idea?
I know you feel me pushing you back down because you push even harder, sometimes leveraging yourself against something else in there.
That’s fine.. I’ll get you back some day.
What exactly are you doing when you randomly vibrate for a second? Are you flipping over? Rapidly moving your arms and legs? Is it a dance or a nervous twitch?
What are you thinking when you get the hiccups? You start kicking a counter-beat to them.. do they bother you or wake you up or just make you want to move?
And what exactly is the squirminess that you’re doing below my belly button? Are you paddling with your arms? It kinda tickles, so you really shouldn’t do that any more.
Why do you sometimes decide to be all on one side of my body? My belly feels completely empty on the left side, and my right side is so full of baby that it’s hard to sit upright and sometimes hard to just breathe.
And why wouldn’t you let the ultrasound technician get a good look at your face? Are you shy or just ornery? What exactly was covering your face, arms or legs?
What exactly is your schedule now? I know that you decide to be the most active whenever I lie down, whether to relax or try to sleep, and you get great leverage to bounce all over the place in there.
Actually, it seems like you don’t ever want to sit still anymore. Are you as ready as I am?
Its been an interesting week or so. I’ve learned quite a bit, and am still in the throes of learning how to trust and how to listen.
Before the baby shower I was pestering Crystal about who was coming, and why wasn’t anything coming off the registry, and what would happen if I didn’t get stuff that I needed for the baby and she simply said, “just have faith, Lisa, God’s going to provide.” I listened, calmed down, then later began to panic again.
Well after the baby shower when I took stock I realized we hadn’t gotten many of the essentials that we were going to need – we did get some gift cards and a little bit of money, but we hadn’t gotten a single ‘big ticket’ item, or much in the way of clothing or diapers or anything, and I started to panic again. (Not to say I didn’t appreciate what we did get, I hate that I sound ungrateful like this, but I was worried about how we could afford so many big things. We did get some cute clothes, lots of really cute and nice books, some baby care essentials, etc.)
This time it was my sister who told me, “have faith” and again I calmed myself and waited for some sort of miracle to happen.
And, as I should have known, it did. First my mom called and said she was buying us the car seat and stroller, then Crystal said we were getting the baby monitor, and somewhere in there JCPenny had a big sale on baby clothing and I was able to use up a bunch of reward points to get a bunch of baby clothes for around $8. And then one day Dana asked if we wanted her baby stuff. Including things like a swing and bumbo and clothes and stuff like that. I was floored because I was already perusing Craigs List trying to figure out what stuff we really needed. Crystal and Kristy were so right, God provided through my loving family and friends. We’re going to be fine, God will make sure our baby has what she needs and we’re going to be alright. Not to mention the baby furniture set that Eric’s parents helped us get several months ago. Why did I ever doubt?
So while I’m learning to trust, I’m apparently also losing my brain. We received four checks at the baby shower and Eric kept telling me to deposit them, and I was waiting until I wrote the thank you notes because.. well because it seemed like a good idea. If you didn’t see this coming, here it is: I lost them. One day they disappeared. It was somewhere right before I went on the trip west for the sales meeting, so I wasn’t entirely sure if they were lost in the house or somewhere else. I tore up the house and looked in any place I could think of when I came home each night, but alas, I had lost them. Then Eric called me at work earlier this week and said, “tell me why my grandmother is asking why she got your baby shower check back in the mail, from the grocery store?”
The grocery store mailed the checks back to the writer of the checks (because their address is on them and mine is not)! I humbled myself and called the other ladies who had given me checks and told them what had happened, and fortunately they were understanding and sympathetic and said they’d mail it to me when they got it. How nice is that!? So I called the grocery store to tell them thank you.
So we were starting to look good again; stuff for the baby was starting to accumulate, money from the shower that had been lost was found, and the fear of the upcoming labor was now starting to be a thing I was looking forward to instead of fearing (see Rock Climbing).
Then yesterday my phone jumped out of my back pocket as I was preparing to use the restroom. It dove into the toilet with a clank, and I reciprocated with an “Oh no!” and reached in after it.
Eric came running in there worried about me, then semi-cracked up and was semi-upset at the same time. He dried it off, shook out as much water as possible, set it up to dry and told me to leave it alone until it had had time to dry out completely.
I didn’t listen. I wish I had, things would probably be much better if I had just listened to the sole remaining member of our household who has a properly functioning and responsible brain, but no, I didn’t listen. When it stopped flipping through screens and making random noises and had finally settled down and managed to turn itself off, I picked it up and started pushing buttons. And it worked! I think anyway. I didn’t take much time to peruse and see if it was truly functioning as it should because my thoughts turned to, “I’m holding a phone that was swimming in toilet water.” (Now to be completely honest, there was nothing in the water. It was dog-drinking-water ready, but knowing what typically goes in there was enough to upset me). But I will say that the touch screen worked.
I decided to clean it off, and put some Lysol Anywhere cleaner onto a paper towel and wiped it down. And then the touch screen stopped working. It didn’t respond to anything. The buttons on the side worked, but the screen didn’t.
After cleaning I decided to research whether that was a good idea or not and read you should never use cleaning products on it because you could wipe away the sensors.
So I effectively destroyed my phone. Nearly 9 months pregnant and no phone. I’m so smart.
All I could think of last night was, why didn’t I just listen to Eric? If I had left it alone then it would probably work just fine. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to try to clean it, and Eric would have managed to fix it for me.
So while I blame pregnancy brain for my clumsiness, I blame my stubbornness for the events that have troubled me. If I could just listen to Eric the first time, because I keep finding that he actually does know what he’s talking about. It’s completely backwards from what society says is usually found in a relationship, where the wife is always right and the husband is the oaf… instead Eric is a very logical, rational person and I’m either impulsive or a procrastinator (ironic).
Fortunately he’s forgiving. Though I don’t think he trusts me a whole lot right now.
No, I didn’t go rock climbing recently, while almost 9 months pregnant.
No, what I wanted to write about was something that occurred to me while talking to my best buddy Dana. She said something like, it’s scary and you don’t know if you can do it but then you do.. (sorry if I’m misquoting you, but that’s basically what I took away :D)
Anyway, it made me think of how I went rock wall climbing last September. It was a three story tower out in a field with the fake rock nubbins up the side, and although you’re harnessed in, it’s still terrifying if you don’t do so well with heights.
I had to learn trust my body. I had to reach way up, further than I thought I could stretch, and grab ahold of the next rock, then cling for dear life, pant and not look down, then push with my legs as hard as I could so that I could reach the next stable point without slipping or losing balance and falling back down. And then I would cling for dear life, still panting, and wait until I had the courage to reach up for the next rock.
I was totally and completely sure I wasn’t going to be able to do it. There was no way that I was going to be able to reach that next rock, it was simply too far away. And once I had reached up and found my next handhold, there was simply no way my feet were going to be able to reach up far enough to find a foothold to push me up again. It was too hard and too scary.
And it took about an hour, I think, (or at least felt like it) but at some point I reached the edge of the top and reached up, dizzy from fright and fatigue, as the person at the top pulled me up.
I did it. I had climbed the tower. And then the best part was clipping onto the zip-line and zooming down.
I think that’s a pretty good analogy if I do say so myself. So I’ve changed my mental outlook – this is an adventure, not an ordeal. It’s going to be scary, but looking up at that super tall rock wall was scary but I knew I at least wanted to try. And once on it, I really didn’t want to fall or fail, so kept going even though I was completely terrified and my muscles were cramping up. And I was so proud of my body once it was over (even with the violent trembling) that it had done what it was supposed to do despite my brain screaming at it “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? TURN BACK!! TURN BACK!!”
So bring it! I’m ready! … kinda… 😉
As mentioned in other posts, clothes are either too constricting or too irritating to be worn for an entire day so once I get home they usually just kindof fall off. Well I don’t really want to be sauntering around in just my undies with the windows open so I asked Eric for “a very large t-shirt”.
He disappeared upstairs and returned with a 2XL t-shirt for the Oakland Zoo, which is the Pitt student t-shirts that they all wear to basketball games. Not sure why he had a 2XL.. he usually wears a Large, but well.. it fit kinda nice. Like a big nightgown except it didn’t hang that far down because it went more outwards than downwards.
So I was wearing that around the house this weekend when I didn’t have to be dressed (aka somewhere else), and Eric commented on the picture of the basketball on the front of the shirt and said it did look like I was carrying around a basketball under there. I must say I agreed.
Oh, and on another note, my new nickname is Waddles. While not a name I’d like to live up to, or at least not for much longer… it is kinda cute and endearing.
Sooooooo we went to the hospital this weekend and spent pretty much our entire Saturday being tortured about what’s to come. I must say, I was scared before, just knowing bits and pieces, but now I can honestly say I’m terrified. So much so that I’m not really sure I want to do this anymore.
So much to look forward to. An entire day of pain and exhaustive work. After becoming as lazy as I am now (mostly because it’s just so hard to move much and everything hurts), thinking about hard work for hours and hours upon end sounds like a total blast.
But it’s all in the perceptions. So instead of thinking about the scary I’m going to focus on the happy. I’ll get to spend an entire day bonding with my husband, working together to bring a new member of our family into our lives, relying on one another to accomplish a really big task, and trusting one another. I hear it brings you closer together, and I can’t wait for that. Not that we’re not already close, but to have a deep bond of “we did this together” would be kinda awesome. And I can also just trust that God has a plan and He knows what he’s doing, so just follow His lead.
And a baby! Wow sometimes I stop and think to myself.. “oh my goodness… I’m going to have a little person depending on me soon..”
I think the scariest part of it all is both what I hear about it being the most pain ever experienced, as well as the scary spine prickling epidural. Everyone says, “Get the epidural!” very emphatically and dramatically, but I keep thinking about a super huge needle grazing my spine and then stuff sticking out of me all over the place to monitor me… soooo many needles and tubes and stuff. Not cool.
But if it means I can focus on breathing and pushing and sharing a moment with Eric instead of just trying to survive a fog of pain, then maybe I should go that route.
I have to say one thing.. while I’m nervous about the “big day”, I really can’t wait to get my body back. Ah to be able to eat, and sleep, and wear clothes, and not pee every 2.45 minutes would be blissful. How I realize how I took my old body for granted. And I do realize that I won’t get it back for a long while.. apparently there’s a lot that follows birth that people don’t much talk about which is also very unpleasant..
But the strangest thing of all….. I can’t even begin to fathom how this thought popped into my mind… but as I was folding and putting away my maternity clothes from the dryer I was thinking… after this is over.. we should do it again.
So a couple things on my mind that are concerning:
- I had my OBG appointment yesterday morning and everything was great, as always… until she measured my belly. For some reason it bothered her that my belly measured bigger than she wanted or expected. All my other stats were great but she decided to prescribe me an ultrasound anyway. That kinda bothered me… I asked if there was anything scary and she said no, but that she just wanted to be safe and get a look in there. And the part that really bothered me was that she decided I should have it done at the hospital where I’ll be delivering, instead of going back to the place down the street where I had the other ultrasounds done.
Mom says I’m going to have a big baby… *sigh*
- Eric thinks I’m silly because I’m ticklish on pretty much every part of my body. In fact, I can’t even scratch the bottom of my foot because it tickles, and he argues that it’s impossible to tickle yourself (I disagree). Well apparently I’m ticklish on the inside too… sometimes the baby will move across my sides and while not the same kind of tickle as the outside, it definitely makes me squirm. Is this normal or am I weird? … I can’t wait to get her back!
And now for long awaited pictures of the ginormous belly. Hooray!
Wow… looks even bigger in pics than it does from looking down at it. Now I get why people say I look like I’m gonna pop. From up here it doesn’t look so… protrusive (I kinda like that word). I mean, I knew I couldn’t see my toes without leaning over some, but jeez that sticks out further than I realized. I’ve been told I went from a basketball to a beach ball 🙂
This week (according to my pregnancy app on my phone): “It is important to get enough calcium this week because the baby is hardening its skeletal structure. Your baby will be fine if you do not get enough calcium, but you will not because your baby will be taking the calcium from your own bones to supplement the development.”
How rude! As if I don’t feed her enough. Now she’s stealin’ my bones so that she can kick me harder. Speaking of which, the child is a mover and shaker. Last week it said she should start to quiet down some and sleep roughly 90-95% of the time. Sooooo not the case.
I don’t think she likes flying much. So sitting on an airplane seat in the full and upright position, while waiting for takeoff and whatnot, is remarkably painful. I knew that I have a hard time sitting upright as evidenced by my change in chairs at work, my inability to stop slouching further and further into my seat at meetings, etc., but didn’t realize how hard it would be to sit still on a plane without screaming out, “TAKE OFF ALREADY!!!”
I felt sorry for the people who had to sit next to me as I was a squirm-master, huff-master, and probably looked like I was having seizures or something because the pain wouldn’t allow me to sit still. Who knew?
But I digress. What I meant to say was that during the actual takeoff when all that pressure pushes you back into your seat (sweet sweet relief) the baby went nuts and started punching and kicking like crazy. She did that every time pressure changed, and she did it when she got tired of me sitting in meetings, and when it was time for bed, and when I (she) was hungry, and when I (she) was full. Nearly nonstop movement, despite what she was told to do by my app, which can’t possibly be wrong.
This is a little concerning, that maybe we’re not as far along as the doctors think we are? If she should be starting to sleep more but instead is becoming increasingly active, then we might have a ways yet to go… *sigh*
Oh and the little.. um… sweetheart.. has figured out that there’s apparently a space under my ribs on the right side that she can play in or something, which is surprisingly painful. I yell at her when she gets up under there, and try to push her out by rubbing my belly downwards. I wish I knew where her bottom was…
New symptom: Heat rash?? The skin on my belly, and especially where the bra sits, is irritated and painful! What is it? Why does it burn? Lotion doesn’t help, and the Cortizone I have is kinda old so hasn’t really helped much either. I started putting fabric scraps along there under my bra to reduce any irritation by lace (stupid lace under the bra… who needs that??), and it helps some but still just fabric touching my belly has become irritating. Eric’s gotten pretty used to me walking around nearly naked now because clothes suck.
PS Please do not show up uninvited to our house. It might be a rude surprise for both of us.
I really love the people I work with. Everyone kinda has a family mentality about everyone else. From the two ladies I was working with in my previous role, to the two folks I’m working with now in my new role, to our boss and his boss, and just everyone in our whole department.. Everyone is awesome.
And of course, I’m treated kinda special right now, what with the big ‘ol bump getting in the way of everything.
So while I did get some quizzical expressions about the logic of being present at the sales meeting this week (unfortunately most of the flak went to my boss and his boss for letting me come), everyone was extremely nice to me and for the most part kept their hands to themselves and left the belly alone. [If you’re wondering why I went to the sales meeting – I started a new role and am interacting with a LOT of names new to me, and thought it a miss to not go start off on good footing in person instead of via email.. that and this only happens once a year.]
However, a week of rich food… an endless supply of rich food.. did catch up with me. In one way it was easier on me because I didn’t have to gorge at three big meals, I was able to snack throughout the day. On the flip side, when food was presented it was so delicious I had a hard time stopping myself and would be on the verge of overeating. But yeah, it caught up with me one night. I spent the majority of the night either tossing and turning, or in the bathroom waiting for my body to decide what it wanted to do about it. And my stupid body was terribly indecisive. I thought about taking matters into my own hands but felt horribly guilty about that so suffered through it instead.
I found that if I propped myself up with every pillow in the bed I could sleep for stints of time, but needless to say the next morning was rough.
I went through the breakfast line and added various bits of food to my plate, trying to decide what looked like it might be palatable, but in the end the only thing that didn’t make me feel sick was fruit. So I nibbled a bit on that then went off to my next meeting.
Later in the day it was time to head out to the airport, and they had prepared boxed lunches for us but I couldn’t stand the thought of a sandwich or potato chips, so passed. At the airport we sat down to eat a quick lunch and again, nothing looked appetizing so I got a plain ceasar salad, much to my boss’s chagrin. He was starting to be really worried about me because I hadn’t eaten all day.
This is where the family part comes in. He and my co-worker both have families and have been through this stage of life before, so were sympathetic to what I was going though, which turned into not letting me roll my own suitcase, and other silly worryings over me. However, while my boss was starting to get frustrated with my obvious lack of care for the second person inside me, my co-worker understood what it feels like to actually be pregnant and not feel well so helped keep him in check.
At the second airport (for the layover) we sat down to dinner and I still didn’t want to eat. I had ordered some hummus and pita chips on the plane as those were much easier to eat and more desirable than anything else I’d found, so I felt justified in not needing a big dinner. But my boss at this point was really worried about me so said something like, “at least drink a milkshake!” to which I perked up.. that actually sounded pretty good and like it wouldn’t feel gross to eat!
But alas.. the restaurant didn’t have milkshakes, nor would the waiter go out and buy ice cream to make me one.
After we got up to leave we went on a hunt for an ice cream place. Someone said there was one nearby so we went looking (airports aren’t always laid out in the most logical fashion) and did in fact find a TCBY… that was closed (it was pretty late by this time).
The guy was standing there cleaning up and my co-worker and boss asked him if he could open up for just one more. The guy looked tired and like he was literally about to walk out and simply shook his head. My co-worker yelled out, “but it’s for a pregnant woman! She needs ice cream!”
The guy looked at me, and hesitatingly said, “only if you have a credit card.”
He gestured to the cups and flavors for me to tell him what I wanted, and handed it over with, “I can’t let a baby starve..”
Someone else paid for it and I ate my frozen yogurt (or most of it anyway) while they felt relieved that I wasn’t starving my fetus. I did start to recount what I had had that day to eat – typically I track everything I eat on an app so that I know that I’m both getting enough calories and also not too many, but this week it was way to hard to keep track of all of the different things to eat. My boss had apparently taken careful note of what I’d had, and how little it had been, and was genuinely worried. I think it would have been easier if we hadn’t been together all day long.. the rest of the week I saw much less of him, but I was also feeling good and eating well every other day.
So yeah, they’re awesome. I’m a little worried about what it’s going to be like when I get back from maternity leave though… I’ll have to get used to not being special.
I’m torn. On the one hand I’m so thankful that I am so obviously pregnant, as people don’t even hesitate to ask about my due date, the gender, how I’m feeling, etc. And it makes a lot of friends with sympathetic women, and men seem to treat me like a delicate flower. It’s nice to know that I look pregnant and not just like I have a gut. At this sales meeting I keep seeing another girl that I want to say is pregnant…. but I’m not 100% sure so I don’t say anything. I tried asking some coworkers and they are afraid to say yes or no either. So I feel affirmed in that aspect.
On the flip side, its so obvious, that everyone knows and I’m getting flak for traveling and being here at this sales meeting this late (33 weeks). Although most people have been understanding that it made the most sense for me to come and meet all the folks I’ll be working with over phone/email in person since this only happens once a year.
Again, seeing folks in person that I’ve only interacted with via phone/email actually in person, when they see the belly they automatically are nice to me. Especially the women…sometimes starting a business relationship with women can be hard, and emails aren’t the best way to start off on good footing, but they see me and immediately they sympathize or tell me about their kids or that their daughter is pregnant.. all kinds of generosity, understanding, etc and we’ve established a good first impression for the road ahead.
So I’m really glad I came. The horribly long and torturous plane ride was worth it. And the food is good. I’m getting spoiled on attention and good eats and hotel living (i.e. no chores).
PS my feet have to go. I look at them at the end of the day and immediately regret it. They’re awful. So bloated and puffy and swollen and (insert other synonyms here).
Little Z's 