skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Yesterday marked 30 days left until my due date. Tomorrow marks 36 weeks completed. So I figured today was a good day for some comments and observations...
It is getting more and more difficult to get comfortable. I find myself dreading bedtime, because even though I am sleepy, I know the whole night is going to be one uncomfortable suckfest.The (possibly?) good news? I appear to be adapting a sort of newborn schedule. I am up every three hours to pee. Which reminds me. You know what you probably don't really want to eat when you're nine months pregnant? Asparagus. Asparagus pee at 12, 3, and 6 AM really starts to grate on your nerves.
Which brings me to eating. I am not enjoying the eating anymore. It's not the whole baby's-too-big-stomach-is-crushed scenario - I ate through that phase like a champ. It's just, I don't know, I'm not hungry anymore. I find myself eating because I have to. I think I'm still eating more than I used to, I'm just not quite at the I-must-have-two-french-dips-for-lunch level I was a few months back. It depresses me, because I love eating. I love it the most.
And I keep having random bouts of nausea! What's up with that?
This weekend is my baby shower. I am very excited and glad that the day is finally here. I remember vaguely when we were looking at dates a few of my mom friends saying May 1st might be a *little* late - and me shrugging it off that I was sure it was fine, it's four whole weeks from my due date, after all! Now that we're here I see what they meant. I figure I will be very busy next week, getting everything all finalized, and then I will sit on my ass watching my stockpile of 16 and Pregnant episodes until I go into labor myself.
Two people told me this week that I don't look like I could possibly make it another six whole weeks. This caused me anxiety at first, until I remembered that people are always saying this to pregnant ladies and it is just code for "my GOD you are big as a house."
But really, the fact that the baby is medium-well at this point just blows my mind. Only three more weeks and I'm - or she's - full term.
I had a mild scare today. I was chatting away at Husband on the phone when suddenly my vision went blurry. It went from "huh, that's weird, I feel like I'm looking through water" to "OH MY GOD IT'S GETTING DARK I'M GETTING SLEEPY IS THIS DYING?!?!" over the course of a half an hour or so. My OB had me go to my regular Doctor who had me see the Opthalmologist - sending me down the hallway with a reassuring "I'm nervous that you've thrown a clot." I had time to wait then, visualizing the imminent emergency C-section, the coma into which I would surely slip, and the tearful bedside vigil of my friends and family.
There was no clot. I ended up being diagnosed with an optical migrane, something that apparently I can expect to have happen again. Hurray! Here's to hoping they stay of the optical variety and that I don't suddenly develop real migrane headaches - just to make the last six weeks more enjoyable than already promised.
It feels like we're entering Official Baby Season. My due date is only nine weeks away, and I will be considered full term (or "in dates" as the cool kids say) in just six. With the way time has of flying, I'm sure my neck will just about snap with how quickly this next month or two goes.
Saw the doctor today. I'm seeing her every two weeks now. I have gained three pounds since my last visit, giving me a total of 30 overall. I broke into the 160's today, which means my goal of 175 is attainable with a little extra effort. The ginormous bowl of restaurant chicken alfredo I had for lunch after my appointment was probably a step in the right direction. Boy do I love eating. It's going to be sad when this is all over and I have to be all "reasonable" again.
Chopita has discovered that my short ribs make for an excellent foot stool. I am constantly rubbing my right side in a way that makes previously pregnant women (ie mothers) point and laugh. She's doing lots of good movement that is both visible and-um...feelable from the outside. Husband was so excited to finally get to feel her kick a few weeks ago, but now he just kind of makes a kind of nauseous face when I hold his hand to one protruding body part or another. Preaching to the choir, buddy.
Oh. Want to see her face? Tune in next time. :)
So I had it planned out that my post for the day would be all about stats. I was going to tell you my weight and circumference and even post a picture...but best laid plans - blah, blah, etc.
Instead of posing for my glamour shots yesterday, I sat in the ER with my grandfather. He's okay - at least for a guy who is 89 years and 10 months old. Who suffered a severe head trauma. Oh yeah, and then a broken back. Oh yeah, and sepsis. All within the last five months. He's in the hospital under observation and should be going home in the morning.
Combine that with the dreary, rainy weather we're having and I'm ready for a comfort food project. One that my grandfather likes, and that will occupy my mind for a while without making me stand over the stove constantly.
I'm thinking Split-Pea Soup.
I went on a split-pea soup rampage a couple of years back, and could never find a recipe that I liked as well as the Campbell's Chunky version. I feel like I can never get it as velvety as I would like it.
Since none of the food bloggers I follow seem to have any ideas, I'm hunkered down with my cookbooks, which is really a way I like to be anyways. I'll let you know what I figure out.
While yesterday I announced I was four months from my due date, today I am here to tell you that it's technically 17 weeks. Can we all just agree that we need to have some ruling board lock themselves in a room and not come out until we have one, unified, universal system of time-keeping in pregnancy? It's just ridiculous. I mean, yesterday was 4 calendar months until my due date, today marks 17 weeks until my due date, I'm considered 5 months pregnant, but I'm in my 6th lunar month, it's the beginning of week 24 but really let's call it week 22...too many answers to the same effing question, in my opinion.
*Deep breath* ... Anyway...I am 23 weeks pregnant today.
Supposedly the baby is now the size of a mango. All I can think of is Chris Kattan in his gold lame' skirt and beret. Picturing this inside of me is rather unsettling. Although I must say if my little Chopita ever gets into a slap fight with J-Lo, I'll be pretty proud.
Everything I'm reading now about my body is getting very ominous, from a vanity perspective. I have been warned that the baby is about to quadruple in size and that stretch marks are imminent. So far so good there - through some combination of water consumption, body oil and genetics I have avoided them so far. Of course, I have also avoided having some wiggly four pound alien in my belly so far, so who knows what will happen.
Speaking of wiggly four pound objects, my breasts are completely out of control. I have gone from a nice, manageable borderline B/C cup to an F. EFF. Yes, my bra size is now 34F. When I say this to mothers who have experienced the horrors of Milk Coming In, they shudder. They shake their heads and regard me with pity. I think I had better pay special attention to the section in the breastfeeding book about What To Do if Your Giant Oversized Breast Is Suffocating the Baby.
I'm now pretty solidly in maternity clothes and t-shirts that used to be too big for me to wear in public, and I think I have about all that I need to get through the duration. I tried to buy a bunch of cheap t-shirts, cardigans and sweatshirts so that I could layer according to the weather. I had to buy cheap because the budget was blown on the miracles of engineering that are my two new bras. The one thing I still want to buy is a new pair of slip on shoes, seeing as getting to my feet is already slightly uncomfortable sometimes.
The best part? I feel Chopita move all the time now. The worst part? I feel Chopita move all the time, and she's getting deliberate. Lately it feels like she's been punching me in the cervix. It's uncomfortable. I have tried bargaining with her - hey kid, stop punching me in the lady bits and I will let you wear mascara in high school - but apparently that's meaningless to her now. I'm looking forward to telling her how she blew it later on.
Four months to go until my due date. That seems both exceptionally far away and mind-bogglingly close.
What was happening four months ago? September 27th. My calendar shows that it was my mother-in-law's birthday and that the Seahawks played the Bears. I had known I was pregnant for almost two weeks. It was still scary (scarier, anyway) then, and I was prone to waves of nausea. I think I remember eating a cup o' noodles in the car on the way to that football game. It was the first one we drove to, rather than take the bus, because there would be no risk of drunkenness. My grandfather was in the hospital, and we stopped by on the way to say hello.
Well, with that perspective, the baby seems farther away. All of that stuff seems like an eternity ago. But maybe that's just because it was an entirely different head space. My pregnancy was still a secret at that point, not to be revealed for another few weeks. The fall that sent my grandfather to the hospital set off a busy chain of events, which included Husband and I flying to Phoenix to drive home with my dad. Yes. You heard me. Two day, marathon road trip with a secret, fresh pregnancy. It was as fun as it sounds.
So now that I'm firmly in baby mode, and couldn't hide it if I tried, maybe it will go faster. Things are going to start happening quickly. Our birth class starts four weeks from tomorrow, and will occupy our Thursday nights until the middle of April. I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, another one four weeks later, and then I start going every two weeks already. Granted, four weeks is still four weeks, and thinking back four weeks to New Year's...THAT even seems like a long time ago. The ultrasound where we found out it was a Chopita was that week! It seems like we've known she was a girl for an eternity.
Whatever. As slowly or quickly as it goes by, there's still a lot to do. Like all that baby registery stuff I was going to get done after Christmas? Yeah, I think there are one or two items on there. I still need to register for (more) classes, and of course do the physical setting up of the nursery. It's nice to start the concrete action portion of this pregnancy, rather than living in abstract concept land like I have for the past five months.
No sandwich report today, sorry. Just didn't happen. I had to eat some leftover potstickers so that I could quit yelling at the dog for farting every time the refrigerator opened. Yes, I realize there are two questionable premises within that sentence; number one, what kind of idiot thinks it's going to help to yell at a dog to stop farting and, number two, who would eat something that smells that bad. I can't account for myself on the first question, but I can tell you that Husband and I have long marveled at how something that smells so bad in the fridge can taste so good on the plate. Call it the mystery of the potsticker. Or blame the cabbage in the filling.
At any rate, there is much bigger news to discuss. That would be that today marks seventeen weeks of pregnancy down, only...uh..23 to go. Yeeeeaaaaaaayy. I am beginning to think that the point of pregnancy, if not life in general, is learning to adjust expectations. I am only just now beginning to realize what a haul this is going to be. In my mind this whole thing was going to be done, I don't know, two weeks from now.
However the good news is that the "baby brain" effect sometimes causes me to lose all sense of time and/or reality, so maybe it will pass by quickly. Like today, for instance, I had to sit down and THINK about WHETHER OR NOT CHRISTMAS ALREADY HAPPENED. Yeah. Only the single biggest holiday of the year which involves about four changes of venue for me to celebrate completely. Seriously, losing it.
Do you see these lists? These are the lists of a crazy person. A crazy person who was up at 5 a.m. yesterday, vacuuming the laundry room and washing baby clothes. Sterilizing baby bottles that might see some action a month from now. Maybe.
But look, my little fashion maven's closet is pretty well in order.
I wish I could say the same for my closet. I got as far as taking everything out of it before I lost my momentum and needed a rest.
Oh, and here is my hospital bag. Yeah, probably going to want to get hopping on that one. 
