Tonight we had dinner with our close friends Richard and Cheryl. Richard is Guy's partner.
We ate near where they live at a Chinese restaurant in Chestnut Hill called Cin Cin. Good eats.
We waited long enough for our table though, especially considering we had a reservation.
Funny how a crowded room full of hungry diners-to-be will ignore common courtesy and fail to offer the MOST pregnant woman in the room a place to sit while she waits. Not to mention that when we approached our table I had to squeeze my rotund self between two smaller tables. Noone moved to get out of the way. On my tippy toes I was able to get around them. And the staring again!
My husbands partner, Richard exclaims "Did you see everyone STARING at us?" and as Guy says "I wonder why", a woman behind me yells out "It's because she's BEAUTIFUL! Just LOOK at her!"
Everyone in the place could have heard her. I blushed. That was the first outright compliment I've received from a total stranger, and it was a mighty one. I felt womanly and almost powerful despite being so unwieldy.
I felt like pumping my fist in the air and cheering for women. WOOOO YEAH, GO WOMEN!
You know, as I type this I am noticing it's actually getting harder to reach the keys. I am sitting with the laptop on my lap and I almost can't reach the top tier of keys. T's are a pain.
Spencer is flying around in me like a crazy person. I think it was the Spicy Orange Beef.
Or, it could be residual effects of me watching Kill Bill Vol 1 at Richard and Cheryl's house.
He thinks he's an assassin now. Or (most unlikely), I'm going into labor and he's getting into position.
Such a last minute planner this one.
Finally for this evening, a question:
How do you stop a pregnant woman from snoring?
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Friday, May 07, 2004
B-Day +2
I want to know who came up with the following Ole Wives Tale:
"If you have heartburn during pregnancy, it means your baby will be born with a hairy head."
Yesterday on the phone with a friend of mine, I mentioned that I'd been having some heartburn which is typical during pregnancy, just like Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, incontinence and swelling of the feet.
My friend says nonchalantly, "It's the hair".
"What hair, MY hair?", I reply, wondering if she's about to say what I think she's going to say.
"No, the baby's hair"
I was silent. Consternation. I had never heard of such a thing.
This morning, my mother-in-law emailed Guy to tell him about the same thing when he mentioned I was having heartburn. Where do they get this stuff?
Somehow, the hair on my baby's head is finding it's way into my esophagus?
How does that work? I'd like to see them sort that out on Mythbusters.
I think maybe it's all the hair that's grown on me since I've been pregnant. Now THAT would make sense.
Other labor-related wive's tales I've come across...
The following will bring on labor:
- Foot massages
- Drinking castor oil
- Driving over bumpy roads
- Walking
- Sex
- A full moon
I wonder if there are any records I could play backwards. Hmm.
Relatives and friends are stepping up the surveillance. We're getting approximately 2 calls a day now with people wondering where my son is. You'd think we were purposefully delaying labor. Today I even got an early Mother-To-Be Mother's Day card. It's amazing how the arrival of a new life makes people so interested in you. People are not all that interested in you at Christmas or Thanksgiving, or on your birthday, but have a baby and your family will display and interest in you that I cannot truly understand.
I was approached again today by strangers:
1. In Babies R'Us (no surprise really), by a woman with a lazy eye pratted on about how I should walk as much as I can and sleep as much as I can cause it doesn't get better and you don't get more sleep, especially with teenagers like she has. Such encouragement knows no boundaries.
2. In CVS in the shampoo aisle when a little boy whispered to his mom about my belly - must have asked her what was wrong with me- I heard her whispering "She has a baby in her belly". I turned and smiled and she was immediately apologetic. I smiled and said it was fine and joked to him that he was once in a belly. Then she came over and said "And last night he just asked me how the baby gets IN the woman's belly in the first place". I chortled. Some day I will be faced with the same question from my son.
I will say to him " Oh that's a great question for your dad, he knows all about things like that."
Heh heh.
TV/Media Note: The 10 year running sitcom Friends ended last night. Much ado about nothing, I'm afraid. Sopranos is so much more fun. One common thread: Joey and Chandler had Duck and Chicken. Tony has a thing about Ducks. What does it mean?
"If you have heartburn during pregnancy, it means your baby will be born with a hairy head."
Yesterday on the phone with a friend of mine, I mentioned that I'd been having some heartburn which is typical during pregnancy, just like Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, incontinence and swelling of the feet.
My friend says nonchalantly, "It's the hair".
"What hair, MY hair?", I reply, wondering if she's about to say what I think she's going to say.
"No, the baby's hair"
I was silent. Consternation. I had never heard of such a thing.
This morning, my mother-in-law emailed Guy to tell him about the same thing when he mentioned I was having heartburn. Where do they get this stuff?
Somehow, the hair on my baby's head is finding it's way into my esophagus?
How does that work? I'd like to see them sort that out on Mythbusters.
I think maybe it's all the hair that's grown on me since I've been pregnant. Now THAT would make sense.
Other labor-related wive's tales I've come across...
The following will bring on labor:
- Foot massages
- Drinking castor oil
- Driving over bumpy roads
- Walking
- Sex
- A full moon
I wonder if there are any records I could play backwards. Hmm.
Relatives and friends are stepping up the surveillance. We're getting approximately 2 calls a day now with people wondering where my son is. You'd think we were purposefully delaying labor. Today I even got an early Mother-To-Be Mother's Day card. It's amazing how the arrival of a new life makes people so interested in you. People are not all that interested in you at Christmas or Thanksgiving, or on your birthday, but have a baby and your family will display and interest in you that I cannot truly understand.
I was approached again today by strangers:
1. In Babies R'Us (no surprise really), by a woman with a lazy eye pratted on about how I should walk as much as I can and sleep as much as I can cause it doesn't get better and you don't get more sleep, especially with teenagers like she has. Such encouragement knows no boundaries.
2. In CVS in the shampoo aisle when a little boy whispered to his mom about my belly - must have asked her what was wrong with me- I heard her whispering "She has a baby in her belly". I turned and smiled and she was immediately apologetic. I smiled and said it was fine and joked to him that he was once in a belly. Then she came over and said "And last night he just asked me how the baby gets IN the woman's belly in the first place". I chortled. Some day I will be faced with the same question from my son.
I will say to him " Oh that's a great question for your dad, he knows all about things like that."
Heh heh.
TV/Media Note: The 10 year running sitcom Friends ended last night. Much ado about nothing, I'm afraid. Sopranos is so much more fun. One common thread: Joey and Chandler had Duck and Chicken. Tony has a thing about Ducks. What does it mean?
Thursday, May 06, 2004
They Will Touch Your Stomach
Ok, this was one warning I got early on in the game - that once I had a prompt belly, strangers would want to touch it. Well it's only happened once, so I really can't complain. HOWEVER, what strangers tend to do endlessly is make commentary and engage me when I'm out.
Today I did some leisurely shopping at the mall for a new "black bag". I am notorious for shopping for the "perfect" black bag and today I experienced a resurgence of that desire, so off I went. Oh the staring. I actually took a look in a mirror while bag hunting in Strawbridge's. Holy sh** am I huge!
My belly is an eye magnet, the equivalent of large fake breasts. Infact, I've noticed that men, when speaking to me, tend to now address my belly as if it is breasts.
It was fun at the beginning when I was carrying around a 5-6 month belly. I felt like I was part of a club. Now I'm simply annoyed by of all the "Betcha can't wait to have that baby - When are you DUE?-Oh my gosh you must be getting close" commentary. I am pregnant and I am big, and I am tired and YES, I would very much like to be done with pregnancy. No need to bring up the obvious. I have nothing else to say, AND may I note that when you're at or PAST your due date, it tends to make people titter even more. You're doomed. Just lie. Say you're carrying big.
Speaking of carrying...I didn't find the bag I wanted. Boo.
I did, however, get the other Augusten Burroughs book, Sellevision, another Q magazine, CDs, and a handheld Tetris game to while away the late hours of my pregnancy. Perhaps I'll play Tetris in bed tonight.
Oh, and regarding outside lounging...the cushion on the chaise lounge was too wet to sit on earlier today. Guy said he'd bring it in tonight to keep it dry so I can sit outside tomorrow. I'm a giant queen bee...and I like Dairyland.
Today I did some leisurely shopping at the mall for a new "black bag". I am notorious for shopping for the "perfect" black bag and today I experienced a resurgence of that desire, so off I went. Oh the staring. I actually took a look in a mirror while bag hunting in Strawbridge's. Holy sh** am I huge!
My belly is an eye magnet, the equivalent of large fake breasts. Infact, I've noticed that men, when speaking to me, tend to now address my belly as if it is breasts.
It was fun at the beginning when I was carrying around a 5-6 month belly. I felt like I was part of a club. Now I'm simply annoyed by of all the "Betcha can't wait to have that baby - When are you DUE?-Oh my gosh you must be getting close" commentary. I am pregnant and I am big, and I am tired and YES, I would very much like to be done with pregnancy. No need to bring up the obvious. I have nothing else to say, AND may I note that when you're at or PAST your due date, it tends to make people titter even more. You're doomed. Just lie. Say you're carrying big.
Speaking of carrying...I didn't find the bag I wanted. Boo.
I did, however, get the other Augusten Burroughs book, Sellevision, another Q magazine, CDs, and a handheld Tetris game to while away the late hours of my pregnancy. Perhaps I'll play Tetris in bed tonight.
Oh, and regarding outside lounging...the cushion on the chaise lounge was too wet to sit on earlier today. Guy said he'd bring it in tonight to keep it dry so I can sit outside tomorrow. I'm a giant queen bee...and I like Dairyland.
This Is The End (?)
"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
-T. S. Eliot
"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. "
-Winston Churchill
"Wisdom begins at the end."
-Daniel Webster
"The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end."
-Leon Trotsky
"The end of labor is to gain leisure."
-Aristotle
Well, we're now past the due date, technically. Spencer was originally due on the 10th and my ultrasound in December determined he was due on the 5th. SO, any day now.
In the meantime, I'm trying to find some kind of peace during this waiting.
I went to two libraries yesterday - not too many years ago they were a place of solace and distraction for me - I'd walk down the aisles in Fiction and just look at book titles for something to stick out. I'd spend an average of an hour on any given visit. Yesterday was frustrating cause I couldn't find a book I wanted to take out and the ceilings were low and there was no real space to get around. The Borders and Barnes & Nobles of this world have effectively replaced the enjoyment of libraries - these stores have EVERYTHING you want and 90-100% of the time it's in stock and their magazine selections are out of control great, and you can buy CDs and DVDs, AND get a coffee, and noone really cares if you have your cell phone. AND you can get around in there. The Borders near me is spacious and mostly organized. I've been going there for 5 years. It's my library now and I have to go today and get another book by Augusten Burroughs. I started trying to read Wait Until Spring by John Fante, but it wasn't stimulating enough to keep me going.
I am ashamed to some degree. We have so many books in this house, my son will never need to go to a library or anywhere once he's old enough to read mature material. We have like every major work!
How many families have a gazillion books now because of Borders and Barnes & Noble? Ikea must be making a killing on FLÄRKE bookshelves.
As I mentioned, reading last night was not stimulating...so at 1230am I decided it was time to try sleeping. What a dismal failure. I laid there awake for almost 2 hours thinking about everything from teaching my son how to use the toilet, to burglars, to whether or not I should turn the light on and read something else, to how loud our dog is when he sleeps (he makes lip smacking noises like a person. it's so weird), to 'what is that crampy feeling in my back and is this the beginning of labor?', to 'what is that light burning/stirring in my belly...is that heartburn trying to come back?', and so on. At some point I managed to start staring at the faint red glow from the light switch on the opposite wall and focus on it enough to fall asleep. Or maybe I drempt that.
At 6am I was awakened not by heartburn (last night's trip to Dairyland for soft-serve must have been the cure-all), but by my bladder. Nothing unusual there, but then upon returning to bed, I was awake again and sat up for 45 minutes fuming because Guy was at his usual morning post at the computer and I wanted my feet rubbed or anything to make me go back to sleep. At 7 he came in and comforted me and listened to me whine, and when the thought of IHOP began prancing through my head he offered to make chocolate chip pancakes...or massage my feet. "You can make your own pancakes you know", he said, entirely aware of my indecisive nature. So he massaged them for like 20 minutes, at which point I became starving and had to make bacon and eggs.
Yummy. Eggs are my savior. It's like the one food I will not leave a speck of on my plate. To me a wasted drop of egg is like lost gold. Throughout this pregnancy I have leaned on eggs like a lifesaver. Almost every morning it's eggs. My son is going to BE an egg. So I finished eating, and suddenly, like a bear come out of hibernation only to snack, I was dead tired. Back up to bed to try a little light reading (Q Magazine, not that boring book), Guy gave me a kiss goodbye and went off to work, and I passed out. Should I have eaten eggs at 1am instead of reading perhaps?
Guy suggested I need some kind of physical exercise to wear me out so I'll go to sleep easier...As if walking around part of the day with a 20lb belly biologically attached isn't tiring enough. I'll get right out and try a Tae Bo class.
It's now 1230pm, close to 80 degrees out and sunny, and there's a chaise lounge outside with my name on it. Time to go to Borders, pick up that book and find my place in the sun until labor or dinnertime.
-T. S. Eliot
"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. "
-Winston Churchill
"Wisdom begins at the end."
-Daniel Webster
"The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end."
-Leon Trotsky
"The end of labor is to gain leisure."
-Aristotle
Well, we're now past the due date, technically. Spencer was originally due on the 10th and my ultrasound in December determined he was due on the 5th. SO, any day now.
In the meantime, I'm trying to find some kind of peace during this waiting.
I went to two libraries yesterday - not too many years ago they were a place of solace and distraction for me - I'd walk down the aisles in Fiction and just look at book titles for something to stick out. I'd spend an average of an hour on any given visit. Yesterday was frustrating cause I couldn't find a book I wanted to take out and the ceilings were low and there was no real space to get around. The Borders and Barnes & Nobles of this world have effectively replaced the enjoyment of libraries - these stores have EVERYTHING you want and 90-100% of the time it's in stock and their magazine selections are out of control great, and you can buy CDs and DVDs, AND get a coffee, and noone really cares if you have your cell phone. AND you can get around in there. The Borders near me is spacious and mostly organized. I've been going there for 5 years. It's my library now and I have to go today and get another book by Augusten Burroughs. I started trying to read Wait Until Spring by John Fante, but it wasn't stimulating enough to keep me going.
I am ashamed to some degree. We have so many books in this house, my son will never need to go to a library or anywhere once he's old enough to read mature material. We have like every major work!
How many families have a gazillion books now because of Borders and Barnes & Noble? Ikea must be making a killing on FLÄRKE bookshelves.
As I mentioned, reading last night was not stimulating...so at 1230am I decided it was time to try sleeping. What a dismal failure. I laid there awake for almost 2 hours thinking about everything from teaching my son how to use the toilet, to burglars, to whether or not I should turn the light on and read something else, to how loud our dog is when he sleeps (he makes lip smacking noises like a person. it's so weird), to 'what is that crampy feeling in my back and is this the beginning of labor?', to 'what is that light burning/stirring in my belly...is that heartburn trying to come back?', and so on. At some point I managed to start staring at the faint red glow from the light switch on the opposite wall and focus on it enough to fall asleep. Or maybe I drempt that.
At 6am I was awakened not by heartburn (last night's trip to Dairyland for soft-serve must have been the cure-all), but by my bladder. Nothing unusual there, but then upon returning to bed, I was awake again and sat up for 45 minutes fuming because Guy was at his usual morning post at the computer and I wanted my feet rubbed or anything to make me go back to sleep. At 7 he came in and comforted me and listened to me whine, and when the thought of IHOP began prancing through my head he offered to make chocolate chip pancakes...or massage my feet. "You can make your own pancakes you know", he said, entirely aware of my indecisive nature. So he massaged them for like 20 minutes, at which point I became starving and had to make bacon and eggs.
Yummy. Eggs are my savior. It's like the one food I will not leave a speck of on my plate. To me a wasted drop of egg is like lost gold. Throughout this pregnancy I have leaned on eggs like a lifesaver. Almost every morning it's eggs. My son is going to BE an egg. So I finished eating, and suddenly, like a bear come out of hibernation only to snack, I was dead tired. Back up to bed to try a little light reading (Q Magazine, not that boring book), Guy gave me a kiss goodbye and went off to work, and I passed out. Should I have eaten eggs at 1am instead of reading perhaps?
Guy suggested I need some kind of physical exercise to wear me out so I'll go to sleep easier...As if walking around part of the day with a 20lb belly biologically attached isn't tiring enough. I'll get right out and try a Tae Bo class.
It's now 1230pm, close to 80 degrees out and sunny, and there's a chaise lounge outside with my name on it. Time to go to Borders, pick up that book and find my place in the sun until labor or dinnertime.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Hunka Hunka Burning...
Well, today is my due date. Happy Maybe Birthday to Spencer. He's a boy - we found out in December when I had my ultrasound, so my belly has been male since then. He's been so kind to share his testosterone with me... I've developed acne and randomly occurring body hair. No labor developments as far as I can tell except maybe...
Last night I stayed up all night and read Dry, by Augusten Burroughs the sequel to Running With Scissors, which I mentioned the other day. It was brillliant. I read the whole book in about 3 hours. Couldn't put it down. I finished reading about 3-330am I think, and put my head down on the pillow.
Then, it happened. RAGING HEARTBURN.
Stinging, acidy fire, pulsing up and down my esophagus. It started off lightly sizzling while I was reading and I sort of ignored it - I get it a little at night sometimes and I'm tempted to think it's hunger. Usually dissipates when I go to sleep.
At approximately 4am, (30 minutes after I fell asleep from reading), I am nodding off when our amazing Brittany Spaniel, Mack, bursts off his chair in our room and flies down the stairs out into the backyard barking as if an army of intruders was stationed there. Simultaneously, I feel the burning fire in my gut establishing itself as a force...yummy berry-flavored Tums are chewed, I whine, and back to bed go I.
Not even two hours later , the fire in my organs re-ignites and I am awakened again. Somehow the Tums had been assimilated by the Borg of Heartburn and is now attacking with vigor. Guy is now in stirring mode, having been so rudely awakened earlier by the guardbeast, so he goes to get me the Tums and then proposes I take his cure-all - Baking Soda in water. I crab at him, concerned about safety of Baking Soda in pregnant women and chomp my Tums while lying there in semi-sleepy misery.
Oh, and have I mentioned my hands are alternately falling asleep and the splint I'm wearing on my right wrist is just taking up more space I don't have to spare? Thank you very much "fluid retention". I don't get big old ankles, but my fingers are almost always tingling and when I wake up it feels like someone broke all my fingers and reset them.
I fall back asleep practically sitting up in the bed. Guy is nearby, trying to comfort me.
Now it's about 7 or so, and what has now become heartFIRE makes me prop myself up in the bed. It BURNS and BURNS in my belly and chest and I feel like someone poured acid right down my gullet. It's unbelievable. I get up and Guy is there to tell me that he researched online and it's ok to take the baking soda which is already prepared in a little dixie cup on the dresser. I gulp it hungrily and climb back into bed. Guy puts on Howard Stern and gets in bed again to hold me. He's trying, bless his soul. I'm actually glad he falls asleep at 9pm and wakes up at like 530 in the morning - doesn't make me feel so bad that I've been waking him up since 4.
The rest of the morning I spend tossing and turning, delerious from partial dreams, baby belly shifting and twinges of a possible third or fourth attack from within. It's now 1145am. I can feel it down there, lurking. I have what feels like sugary rawness in the lining of my cheeks - like when you eat too many Sour Patch Kids or drink too much Kool Aid. I think it's from the Tums. OR it's the tracks left by heartburn regimens trying to dissolve me from the inside out.
I am a walking biological battleground and child growth/storage unit. Am I a Borg?
Last night I stayed up all night and read Dry, by Augusten Burroughs the sequel to Running With Scissors, which I mentioned the other day. It was brillliant. I read the whole book in about 3 hours. Couldn't put it down. I finished reading about 3-330am I think, and put my head down on the pillow.
Then, it happened. RAGING HEARTBURN.
Stinging, acidy fire, pulsing up and down my esophagus. It started off lightly sizzling while I was reading and I sort of ignored it - I get it a little at night sometimes and I'm tempted to think it's hunger. Usually dissipates when I go to sleep.
At approximately 4am, (30 minutes after I fell asleep from reading), I am nodding off when our amazing Brittany Spaniel, Mack, bursts off his chair in our room and flies down the stairs out into the backyard barking as if an army of intruders was stationed there. Simultaneously, I feel the burning fire in my gut establishing itself as a force...yummy berry-flavored Tums are chewed, I whine, and back to bed go I.
Not even two hours later , the fire in my organs re-ignites and I am awakened again. Somehow the Tums had been assimilated by the Borg of Heartburn and is now attacking with vigor. Guy is now in stirring mode, having been so rudely awakened earlier by the guardbeast, so he goes to get me the Tums and then proposes I take his cure-all - Baking Soda in water. I crab at him, concerned about safety of Baking Soda in pregnant women and chomp my Tums while lying there in semi-sleepy misery.
Oh, and have I mentioned my hands are alternately falling asleep and the splint I'm wearing on my right wrist is just taking up more space I don't have to spare? Thank you very much "fluid retention". I don't get big old ankles, but my fingers are almost always tingling and when I wake up it feels like someone broke all my fingers and reset them.
I fall back asleep practically sitting up in the bed. Guy is nearby, trying to comfort me.
Now it's about 7 or so, and what has now become heartFIRE makes me prop myself up in the bed. It BURNS and BURNS in my belly and chest and I feel like someone poured acid right down my gullet. It's unbelievable. I get up and Guy is there to tell me that he researched online and it's ok to take the baking soda which is already prepared in a little dixie cup on the dresser. I gulp it hungrily and climb back into bed. Guy puts on Howard Stern and gets in bed again to hold me. He's trying, bless his soul. I'm actually glad he falls asleep at 9pm and wakes up at like 530 in the morning - doesn't make me feel so bad that I've been waking him up since 4.
The rest of the morning I spend tossing and turning, delerious from partial dreams, baby belly shifting and twinges of a possible third or fourth attack from within. It's now 1145am. I can feel it down there, lurking. I have what feels like sugary rawness in the lining of my cheeks - like when you eat too many Sour Patch Kids or drink too much Kool Aid. I think it's from the Tums. OR it's the tracks left by heartburn regimens trying to dissolve me from the inside out.
I am a walking biological battleground and child growth/storage unit. Am I a Borg?
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Limbo
I am sitting at my laptop in my TV room with "Light Classical" playing on DirecTV's Music Channel 836.
It is 1255pm.
I woke up at 945am with a fairly annoying case of heartburn, no doubt brought on by last night's nutritious dinner of tortilla chips with Tostitos Salsa Con Queso, an orange and a chocolate chip scone with milk.
My appetite has gone berserker since last Weds. I haven't eaten like I was (lost a pound according to doc's scale) and my taste buds are demanding sugar. This morning I ate the last of the Pop Tarts (frosted cherry). I long for unfrosted cherry, but for some reason they just weren't as popular so the folks who make Pop Tarts discontinued them (like 10 years ago and I'm holding a grudge). This reminds me, what happened to the Chopped Beefsteak Sandwich that McDonald's used to make like 20 years ago? I hate when things I like disappear so thoroughly that noone else but me remembers them.
I digress. You do that when you have nothing left to do but wait.
This morning I changed the sheets on our bed, marvelled at the amount of dog hair that's accumulated in our bedroom since Guy vacuumed last week, and spat nails worrying about my infant son inhaling dog hair and either dying or developing horrible asthma.
I took pictures of our dressing room area to potentially send to a production company developing a new home design reality show. It's so bad in that room they won't be able to tell what it looks like from pictures. I may have to resort to some other drastic measure.
I've come to realize today that my husband (Guy) is right about me. I can't stand to be cooped up in my house. It would be one thing if my body was in normal shape and I could go pull out the cushion for the chaise lounge and drag the heavy iron thing across the lawn and set myself up with some reading materials and beverages...it's a gorgeous day out. HOWEVER, I am a walking baby house with a limited range of motion, and I don't last long on my feet. I can't start up some class or group or something because at any moment now my body could decide "it's time".
Yesterday I realized I was hurrying my baby along- becoming annoyed and impatient that he hasn't already sprung out. He's not due until tomorrow, May 5, so technically it's really sort of rude of me to have such lofty expectations. Guy and I will sit there and talk to my belly, pleading and cajoling with him to come out. Sometimes, Guy just yells at my belly.."Hey you in there, get out here already!" I felt guilty for putting pressure on my unborn son, and decided patience would be smarter, and perhaps less stressful than constantly thinking about my dilemma. I would just go on about my days and live my life until the day arrived....good attitude to have.
Ha.
__________________________________
Tue May 04, 7:20PM
Forty minutes away from another mindnumbing installment of American Idol.
As I mentioned earlier today, I was having some serious concerns about the presence of dog hair in the room where my baby will be temporarily sleeping soon. I found an article from 2002 about the actual benefits of having dogs present around babies - the contribution to their resistance to allergens later on...well I'll be damned if I didn't stumble across ANOTHER snippet about the same subject in this month's Consumer Reports magazine. There was a study done in Feb 2004 that seems to support the same idea.
Meanwhile, today I was crabby and resentful about the state of my home. It's messy folks. I won't lie to you. We're borderline packrats and I was also worrying about how that would affect my son - would he become like us? Would he hate us for being sloppy? Self-loathing got the better of me and I was stomping around teary, cursing dog hair and dust balls and change in the dryer and plaster dust.
Then, later on, pondering over the last book I read Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs, I sort of realized that no matter how crazy my house looks, as long as we love our son and care for him and teach him love and trust and confidence, he will love us and grow up ok. As long as we're a happy family - as long as there is love, it won't matter so much if a sleeve of Saltines has been sitting open next to the box in the pantry for a week. It won't matter that there's a cobweb in the bedroom. It won't matter that the drink glasses we had in the tv room last night are still sitting atop a speaker as I write this. It will be petty and mostly insignificant stuff and one can't really dwell on it and have anything positive come of it. I don't know if I'm ready to accept that being a sloppy housekeeper is part of me, but it seems that parenting involves letting go of some things along with acquiring new skills and attitudes.
I am instantly profound and ridiculous. I can see Guy laughing as he reads this.
It is 1255pm.
I woke up at 945am with a fairly annoying case of heartburn, no doubt brought on by last night's nutritious dinner of tortilla chips with Tostitos Salsa Con Queso, an orange and a chocolate chip scone with milk.
My appetite has gone berserker since last Weds. I haven't eaten like I was (lost a pound according to doc's scale) and my taste buds are demanding sugar. This morning I ate the last of the Pop Tarts (frosted cherry). I long for unfrosted cherry, but for some reason they just weren't as popular so the folks who make Pop Tarts discontinued them (like 10 years ago and I'm holding a grudge). This reminds me, what happened to the Chopped Beefsteak Sandwich that McDonald's used to make like 20 years ago? I hate when things I like disappear so thoroughly that noone else but me remembers them.
I digress. You do that when you have nothing left to do but wait.
This morning I changed the sheets on our bed, marvelled at the amount of dog hair that's accumulated in our bedroom since Guy vacuumed last week, and spat nails worrying about my infant son inhaling dog hair and either dying or developing horrible asthma.
I took pictures of our dressing room area to potentially send to a production company developing a new home design reality show. It's so bad in that room they won't be able to tell what it looks like from pictures. I may have to resort to some other drastic measure.
I've come to realize today that my husband (Guy) is right about me. I can't stand to be cooped up in my house. It would be one thing if my body was in normal shape and I could go pull out the cushion for the chaise lounge and drag the heavy iron thing across the lawn and set myself up with some reading materials and beverages...it's a gorgeous day out. HOWEVER, I am a walking baby house with a limited range of motion, and I don't last long on my feet. I can't start up some class or group or something because at any moment now my body could decide "it's time".
Yesterday I realized I was hurrying my baby along- becoming annoyed and impatient that he hasn't already sprung out. He's not due until tomorrow, May 5, so technically it's really sort of rude of me to have such lofty expectations. Guy and I will sit there and talk to my belly, pleading and cajoling with him to come out. Sometimes, Guy just yells at my belly.."Hey you in there, get out here already!" I felt guilty for putting pressure on my unborn son, and decided patience would be smarter, and perhaps less stressful than constantly thinking about my dilemma. I would just go on about my days and live my life until the day arrived....good attitude to have.
Ha.
__________________________________
Tue May 04, 7:20PM
Forty minutes away from another mindnumbing installment of American Idol.
As I mentioned earlier today, I was having some serious concerns about the presence of dog hair in the room where my baby will be temporarily sleeping soon. I found an article from 2002 about the actual benefits of having dogs present around babies - the contribution to their resistance to allergens later on...well I'll be damned if I didn't stumble across ANOTHER snippet about the same subject in this month's Consumer Reports magazine. There was a study done in Feb 2004 that seems to support the same idea.
Meanwhile, today I was crabby and resentful about the state of my home. It's messy folks. I won't lie to you. We're borderline packrats and I was also worrying about how that would affect my son - would he become like us? Would he hate us for being sloppy? Self-loathing got the better of me and I was stomping around teary, cursing dog hair and dust balls and change in the dryer and plaster dust.
Then, later on, pondering over the last book I read Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs, I sort of realized that no matter how crazy my house looks, as long as we love our son and care for him and teach him love and trust and confidence, he will love us and grow up ok. As long as we're a happy family - as long as there is love, it won't matter so much if a sleeve of Saltines has been sitting open next to the box in the pantry for a week. It won't matter that there's a cobweb in the bedroom. It won't matter that the drink glasses we had in the tv room last night are still sitting atop a speaker as I write this. It will be petty and mostly insignificant stuff and one can't really dwell on it and have anything positive come of it. I don't know if I'm ready to accept that being a sloppy housekeeper is part of me, but it seems that parenting involves letting go of some things along with acquiring new skills and attitudes.
I am instantly profound and ridiculous. I can see Guy laughing as he reads this.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Counting Down The Days....excerpts from emails to family
Tuesday April 27 -
I went to the salon and had my hair highlighted. It looks awesome (and it was safe)
Weds April 28 -
Nothing new happened at docs office. No developments.
I started feeling a little funny in the belly, woke up in the middle of the night Weds night/Thurs morn with heartburn,...
Thursday April 29 -
Most of day I was useless.
Achy and crampy and wondered if it was time ...couldn't eat either which is totally opposite of my entire pregnancy.
By late afternoon I realized I felt feverish and tummy was upset - so I took my temp and it was 99.1.
I called the doc, they said Tylenol and watch it and I kept hydrated...had a litle soup later on and rested.
Fever dropped.
Friday April 30 -
Fever was gone by this morning and I'm eating again.
We went out for dinner - we're sitting there and Guy can SEE my belly moving through my clothes.
Spencer (that's his name) decides to bop around, and my husband can see my belly from across the table moving around all on it's own. Unbelievable. This is not a baby getting ready for departure.
Monday May 3 -
(ED NOTE: For some unknown reason I've taken to graphically describing my varying medical conditions to family.)
To my knowledge he has not dropped, although who knows.
Yesterday i thought i might have had water breakage, but then i realized it couldnt be cause there was no show (mucus plug), and it was only a one time little dribble that didn't happen again or continue, and i've been having lots of regular discharge so i think it's that, and i didn't start contractions of any kind. I must say I've had good bladder control up to now. I hope I don't lose it.
I've had problems with numbness, pain and tingling in my hands - carpal tunnel syndrome says my doc - brought on by fluid retention. Right now, the tips of the middle and ring fingers on my right hand are tingly and usually are all day. He said it should all go away when Spencer arrives. No major swelling anywhere though and my feet only seem to get going if I'm on them too long.
I think I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions (practice contractions) for awhile here and there, and one or two crampy type feelings that will probably become contractions, but it all seems like some kind of internal "systems testing" to me.
Last night Guy was convinced I was gonna go today. So then of course I got all anxious and it took me hours to get sleepy. I will say this...my appetite is feeling like it's slowing way down. I don't think I'm eating near what I was eating - I can't. I think I'm also craving sweeter things now. At the beginning I wanted salty things.
Someone told me full moons are a common time for many women to go into labor - there's one on the 4th, so we'll see. Yesterday Guy's brother Glen and sister in law Laurie called me to check in - they said if I go tomorrow I should expect the hospital to be super busy with moms in labor. ha ha.
I'm bored.
I was thinking I might go see a movie...don't know if I can tolerate the seating issue, but I don't know how much more sitting around I can take. I do have a doc appt at 430 today so I'll go for a walk after, but JEEZ oh MAN!
I went to the salon and had my hair highlighted. It looks awesome (and it was safe)
Weds April 28 -
Nothing new happened at docs office. No developments.
I started feeling a little funny in the belly, woke up in the middle of the night Weds night/Thurs morn with heartburn,...
Thursday April 29 -
Most of day I was useless.
Achy and crampy and wondered if it was time ...couldn't eat either which is totally opposite of my entire pregnancy.
By late afternoon I realized I felt feverish and tummy was upset - so I took my temp and it was 99.1.
I called the doc, they said Tylenol and watch it and I kept hydrated...had a litle soup later on and rested.
Fever dropped.
Friday April 30 -
Fever was gone by this morning and I'm eating again.
We went out for dinner - we're sitting there and Guy can SEE my belly moving through my clothes.
Spencer (that's his name) decides to bop around, and my husband can see my belly from across the table moving around all on it's own. Unbelievable. This is not a baby getting ready for departure.
Monday May 3 -
(ED NOTE: For some unknown reason I've taken to graphically describing my varying medical conditions to family.)
To my knowledge he has not dropped, although who knows.
Yesterday i thought i might have had water breakage, but then i realized it couldnt be cause there was no show (mucus plug), and it was only a one time little dribble that didn't happen again or continue, and i've been having lots of regular discharge so i think it's that, and i didn't start contractions of any kind. I must say I've had good bladder control up to now. I hope I don't lose it.
I've had problems with numbness, pain and tingling in my hands - carpal tunnel syndrome says my doc - brought on by fluid retention. Right now, the tips of the middle and ring fingers on my right hand are tingly and usually are all day. He said it should all go away when Spencer arrives. No major swelling anywhere though and my feet only seem to get going if I'm on them too long.
I think I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions (practice contractions) for awhile here and there, and one or two crampy type feelings that will probably become contractions, but it all seems like some kind of internal "systems testing" to me.
Last night Guy was convinced I was gonna go today. So then of course I got all anxious and it took me hours to get sleepy. I will say this...my appetite is feeling like it's slowing way down. I don't think I'm eating near what I was eating - I can't. I think I'm also craving sweeter things now. At the beginning I wanted salty things.
Someone told me full moons are a common time for many women to go into labor - there's one on the 4th, so we'll see. Yesterday Guy's brother Glen and sister in law Laurie called me to check in - they said if I go tomorrow I should expect the hospital to be super busy with moms in labor. ha ha.
I'm bored.
I was thinking I might go see a movie...don't know if I can tolerate the seating issue, but I don't know how much more sitting around I can take. I do have a doc appt at 430 today so I'll go for a walk after, but JEEZ oh MAN!