The Thirty-First week forged ahead in INTENSIVE PARENTING PREP!! With a groggy groan and moan and spacy "huh?" our pre-parents prepare for the hurdles and happiness to come. With dolls! And videos! And lots of massages. Belly-creature-coconuts kick up in utero storms when told they may be "measuring small" Belly remodeling follows suit. Blood and soda spill in the wake of a wearying but inspiring weekend. And June lopes to a jolting close of spun up work and busier weekends, while our water-logged proto-mommy collapses near a couch with tissues and ice packs flocking her.
Langor-toes and the Thursday Thump
It was another night with the hubba-hubba-hubby in Seattle and the mums-to-be soaking up her last dregs of alone time. Boy oh boy, I slept well last night. Everso blissfully well. Had the bed entirely to myself, prime camping ground for an elaborate pillow fortress and carefully strewn sprawl. The evening air was cool enough to leave windows open and rely on fans (always a better ambience for nuzzling Mr. Sandman and luxuriating in his soft and silky dream-weaves). And, I slept in, of course.
And, yet, I'm still ready to snooze. Or to return to my pillow fortress, plop my swollen extremities amidst the pillows and gaze deeply into the depths or heights of the ceiling before succumbing to the through introspection of the mysteries of my own eyelids.
So nice and cozy... and full of things to do. Ah well.
I am feeling somewhat more organized today. I have my major project in rough draft form (phew - because starting that was the biggest hurdle of the month). I have a decent packing list for that theoretical hosptial bag. I have a list of people for whom to pen Thank You Cards, although little afflatus to actually break the seal on my adorable monkey cards. I even have a few black out curtains to hold up against various windows and see what fits. Joy of joys, I remembered my sunglasses this morning.
Small progressions towards a pretty exhausting but informative weekend. Yeesh, I need to pack a bag just for our childbirth prep intensive weekend class. Pillows and blankets and snacks! I think I can handle that one.
The office will be abuzz with various activities this morning. Another four-way for which snacks must be provided (says Adella). Plenty of visitors at whom to wave. And a lunch out that sounds so fun in theory but exhausting in the whole "leaving the office and interacting with people... even people I love" kind of way. Better chug that tea with lemon. It's like a morning caffeine fix, right? Hot and acidic at least!
You Put De Lime in the Coconut and Add a Pineapple Melon Thirty-one weeks in
Another week, another string of produce metaphors (and reminders of symptoms long held and some new ones - one is silver and the other gold as the girl scouts would say). After a little lull, the creativity is back, and our wee Fonzarelli may now be any of the following:
1. A Coconut - Ok. Coconut everything is fairly trendy these days - water, milk, meat, sugar... you name it. Why not coconut baby?
2. A Pineapple - Is there a developing cocktail theme going on here, or is that just me and my many months of abstinence? I am ok with pina coladas, and sometimes long walks on the peach. But I still don't fancy the idea of birthing a spiky (or spiked) infant.
3. Melon - Little Aubergine Midori. Still going strong with that booze theme. Speaking of melon, I've discovered frozen melon chunks! I'm not much of a melon fan. I find honeydew and cantaloupe to be the uninspired "seasonal fruit" filler of any otherwise appetizing fruit plate. But they work really well frozen. Most fruits are pretty amazing when frozen. At least when you're overheating in a swelter. But I will be buying some premade fruit salad and freezing it for consumption during labor for sure.
4. A bunch of leeks - Getting away from the beverage theme, here. Well, she's been a leek before, but a BUNCH. What, my baby now has dissociative produce identity disorder? We call her leek-legion, for she is many.
5. A bunch of bok choy - Bok choy!! I just like to yell that out as if I'm doing some kind of exciting cooking related kung-fu move.
Perhaps her produce variety has been amped by the variability in what size she might actually be right now. Somewhere between 14 and 18 inches, but with an average of about 16.* And probably about 3.5 pounds with lots more adorable white fat sucked from mommy's marrow. And she's getting quite big-fish-small-pond in my ever burgeoning belly. Unsurprisingly, she's likely stuck in some form of fetal position now. So much for all that raising the roof and long-leg can-can extensions she was doing in the second trimester. Serves her right for sucking up all that amniotic fluid (and then peeing back 2 cups of it a day)
* Or so we hope. I am apparently "measuring small" across my big old bump. They're scheduling an ultrasound in two weeks to measure her growth and make sure it's all progressing well.
Otherwise, it's more about refinements at this point. She has blood cells; She's building immunities, can hear even better and more aptly than before; she could smell if she weren't buried in amniotic ambrosia; her brain has trillions of neurons popping about and making more connections; and she can officially breathe on her own. Go little belly creature!
For me, it's decidedly more of the more of the same and then some. If my duple-blood volume were not sufficient excuse for my perpetual broil, then I take comfort in knowing that my metabolism has also increased by 20%. And I'm fairly certain my blood pressure is at the highest it's ever been (was unearthly low, so this is probably good). I'll know more excitement after my OB appointment this morning about measurements and numbers.*
* Apparently, actually it was about the lowest. Who can say. I'm going with the duple blood volume as the culprit
But I know the most important things now: I get hot fast! I've started to notice that I get tired with equal celerity. Oh so drag-down tired. Feeding a fonza-leek is no easy job.
I also lose my breath easily (must be the absent-mind of pregnancy fog - I'm sure my breath and my ability to concentrate are behind a couch somewhere). My eyes are bleary and sometimes unfocused. My brain is a muck. My coordination is post-post-modern abstract. My legs, hips, back, and belly ache as various muscles are twisted and nerves tweaked. It's not all too bad, since I'm used to a certain level at this point. But I hear it might increase as the little one gets less teeny weeny.
But a fun new one: my legs are starting to get really into this swelling nonsense. By the end of the day, they are waterbed bulging over my socks. Very attractive, I assure you.
In other news, well, I'm off to find out more news about the general progress of this third trimester nonsense.* It's been a baby-intensive week and will become more so this weekend. I hope they let us play with birthing balls at our childbirth prep class!**
* They'll follow up on the measuring thing, but my other tests were fine and I got to have my very own TDAP so our little wee one won't whoop up the whooping cough. But I'm up to every other weekly appointments now!
** They did! Boing Boing!
Prepped up, Pumped up, and ... a bit Backsore for Baby
We are just a wee bit over halfway through our megablitz Childbirth Prep Intensive weekend. My head is bursting with baby (though not quite in the Zeus-bearing-Athena fashion just yet). And images of various little uncanny valley baby-or-fetus dolls passing through skeletons of pelvises. Creepy? Everything about childbirth is simultaneously magical, disgusting, beautiful, and creepy.
Magically Disgustingly Creepy? Let's just say that we saw several videos of various couples during actual labor experiences. And at least two videos of live births. One was a full beginning to end piece. This followed the more segmented look at several couples in the different stages and phases of labor. It may be saying something that I found these more inspiring than terrifying (despite the obvious pain demonstrated at times) and that I even murmured cute when the little misshapen and bloody newborns burst from their mommys' loins.
At the end of the beginning-to-end segment, the women in the group were largely misting up and sniffling while their partners were fighting off comas. I guess that's better than "scared witless out of their minds."
Not sure what this says of our collective future birthing experiences except maybe (1) pregnant women have a lot more hormones and are a lot more intimately connected to an idea of birthing, a concept which is is far more abstract to future daddies (2) future daddies kind of rise to the occasion when it occurs in specificity, and can connect less to the generalized idea, (3) there may be an empathy gap, given the hormones and the hitting closer to home and the general male/female divides - after watching several women sobbing, moaning, and otherwise getting through tough labors in an evident amount of pain, my sweet bike-and-chain commented that it didn't seem like anyone was in pain so much as like they were focused really hard the way people get when jumping barriers in cyclocross, for instance. I'm sticking with #2 though. That and narcolepsy.
It was a bulging day, teeming with facts swarming with information, and full of practice. Things that could have been daunting but were instead mostly inspiring. We learned several positions and techniques for managing pain (far beyond the stereotypical lamaze huff-huff-puff one sees in movies). I feel like I have a much better grasp on what to expect when I'm super duper expecting a baby to pop out of me within several hours. Well, yes, pain and eventually a baby, I'd previously gotten... but some greater detail for the meantime. A lot of the positions make instinctive sense to me, even the various pushing positions. I'm glad that we live in a town where the nurses and birthing center are far more open to facilitating a patient's preferred birthing approach.
I also came out of it with a greater sense of confidence. Not just for myself, but for us as a birthing team. It's hard to imagine being as vulnerable as I will be during that process. We have a pretty modern and progressive marriage, based largely on the "we support each other, but we take care of ourselves in our things" principle. Having my husband be that attentive to my needs, to talk me through to focus when I'm totally overwhelmed, and to advocate for me... it's a little foreign. And since we don't have that dynamic, it's maybe hard to imagine Andrew would be comfortable there. I guess some part of me has thought "I'll have to get myself through this labor and then support the daddy-to-be so he isn't too freaked out and so horrified that he'll never be able to touch me or the baby again." But at this point, watching these couples on the video, it's reminding me that I don't have to approach it this way. And I know my sweetie will take that charge when it's appropriate if I ask and make way for him to do that. And I can ask. And he knows how to do the double-hip squeeze now. Blessed, blessed back relieving press.
So that was inspiring. To the little leek too, apparently. She was super active all day yesterday. I'm all keyed up and ready for labor and so is she... except not for another very long 9 weeks. Which is good, but also... wow, long time.
And there's more to learn today. I may faint from sheer exhaustion at all that sitting, but at least today we get to start later and have time for a walk. And walk or waddle I shall! Before it gets steaming out, which is already being threatened.
So-da Stream Flows A Brisk Morning Baptism for a Hot One Heading Here
It was an exhausting and edifying education excursion this weekend. My body feels a bit like I've run a mental marathon, so brimming over with ideas and opinions and expectations and to-dos as I am... But to really start the Monday off right, sometimes you just need a little cold water thrown in your face... or down your back.
In a moment of ecological concern, I recalled that since summer is anon and this heralds the dawn of my desire for soda water, it would be better to stop crushing through cans, and resume my soda streaming habit. So I tried. I really tried today.
It would appear that I neglected to apply the force of my will towards a final twist of the cap. Or so I would glean from the damp sensation seeping through my blouse as I approached our office building. I did stop and tighten the offending cap, but the damage was officially done. Or at least about 3/4 of a liter of carbonated water had divested itself to the contents of my bag. It was a soggy slog up the stairs and into the office - keeping the bag at arm's length to minimize my personal saturation.
There are pools of water in the pockets of my bag. And some of my devices and papers are clearly unhappy. The quartet of seasonally inappropriate gloves stashed in there for months are sodden. They lay supine in the sink. My semi-damp papers are on the floor, along with any other sundries from my bag. And my back is just drying off in time for the heatwave period in which all that wet would feel nice.
Yep, gonna be another hot one after a little blip of a reprieve. I'm so very glad that (1) our weekend was actually below scorching, (2) the room in which our intensive introduction to childbirth and care occurred was well-air conditioned.
Yesterday's class was shorter, but the real endurance kicker. One intensive day can be had with a high level of energy, but there's an inevitable flagging that occurs on a second day of such things. Nonetheless, it was a pretty interesting day full of "and now all the medical interventions and stuffs" followed by breastfeeding (no practice sessions or live demos on that one), break out discussions about our fears and expectations of the difficulties of post-natal care (divided by gender/role), and some primers on soothing newborns.
It appears that newborns like to be straight-jacketed, lightly shaken (not stirred), and then have their provider HISSS and SSSHHHHHH obnoxiously in their ears. Preferences. We all have preferences, but I still say those babies were more quieted by a "hold still so the crazy man doesn't hurt me" survival urge than any automatic calming reflex.
Exhausting as it was, I'm really glad to have been through it. It has definitely sparked conversation between me and my future-birth-coach. It's a balance of recognizing that I currently - as he put it - have more ownership over this process, and of wanting this to be a shared experience. I think we're both trying to suss out how to change the engagement ratio between us, and it's coming around a bit. I have those hormones reorganizing with my brain, and a constantly shifting belly just full of my little creature. Andrew may have to wait until the moment comes for those bursts of mind-altering chemicals (although I hear some men of pregnant partners already start undergoing neurochemical changes). But in the meantime, we're still using mostly "big event"/"Race prep" language because it's familiar to him and works to a certain extent.
In the meantime, who can help but be mesmerized by my ever-shifting and rippling belly? It is surreal and she's full-on shifting positions in a pretty visible way right now. Definitely excited by all that birthing talk, I can only assume.
And - future birth plans aside - it was just nice to be "doing something" intensive like that together. Andrew's schedule has been pretty nuts recently, and with the limitations from this belly-creature thing, I feel like we've just kind of inevitably drifted to our separate-interests corners when we do have time together (his being bike stuff and getting his downstairs ready, and mine being laying on a couch somewhere). Last weekend was great, but with all of our families here, we still barely saw each other. And this coming weekend, his dad will be coming up on Friday to accompany him to a big all-day endurance race in Canada on Saturday. That's after a week of longer hours for an impending deadline. Then there's a big trip/wedding in San Francisco that I'm starting to think I won't be able to attend... I've told him we're reserving some time together in July, because downtime together is highly lacking going into the baby madness. And we should practice those soothing techniques for the birth. Especially that massage bit... definitely the massage part. Lots of practice on that.
But I guess it's all good practice for our future balancing act, right? Work/self-time/couple time/baby time/sleep(!!!) I'm sure we'll just figure that all out no sweat... just maybe a few barrels of soda stream down our backs!
Bloody Nose McGroggy and the Beautiful Bouncing Belly
In the annals of "pregnancy makes this highly sensitive lass feel wussier than worn tissue paper," it appears that an intensive weekend of sitting, watching videos, getting a few practice massages, and playing with dolls is just too strenuous for my delicate little incubator these days. Yesterday was ... not my top form. Mostly. A mix of morning sickness (finally aptly called such, unlike the evening sickness of my first trimester), mini-migraine, cramps, and fatigue. And the return of senor el bloody nosey. Although thing time I was prepared with ice and the determination to sit and pinch without gallivanting off on my treadmill or any other distractions from the "cut it out nose!" focus. The head pain and fatigue outlasted the others and endured through to today.
But it appears the little Fonzarelli was unphased by the event. Possibly energized by it. She's been thrashing around pretty nonstop since this weekend began. I couldn't capture the really big ones, because she's also a little imp who does not want to perform on demand (so prepared to be a real kid). But, well, I wish my belly dancing muscle isolations were good enough to do those movements.
Glad she's feeling spry. I am going in for an ultrasound next Thursday check things out, since I'm measuring a bit small. Or was. I swear my belly popped a whole new shape shortly after the appointment. But I'll take the ultrasound. I'd like any confirmation that all is well. Plus we haven't seen her on the inside for quite some time. I am dead-curious what position she's gotten herself into. I can tell she's repositioning, but not exactly how.
In other news, Andrew's work is amping up again just in time for the two crazy weekends that plan to finish out our nutso June. He'll be out late for a lot of this week (when he's not off to Canada or other foreign lands), so we were fortunate to get in a nice relaxing and heavily air conditioned evening together last night. We're trucking through the final season of Angel now, which I love. They dropped a lot of the "Turgid supernatural soap opera" angle of the prior season and reinserted a lighter more episodic feel that only occasionally goes Nutso Supernatural Alley McBeal. Really, though, they dropped the angsty love triangles (mostly) and brought in Spike and Harmony from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. How could I complain?
Especially in a room that couldn't keep up with the low-eighty degree weather but at least was sub-upper-seventies in temperature. Andrew acclimates quickly! He was wearing a long sleeved shirt in our 75 degree downstairs, and had to get under the covers with an extra hoodie to hang out in the bedroom's chilly 71 degree climes. I was, of course, covered in cold water and little else besides a tank top and light linen pants.
I wish I acclimated that rapidly! But I guess I'm adapting in my own way. A month ago, these temperatures would have killed me. Now, I can keep them to tolerable with a hearty helping of evaporative cooling, all courtesy of the kitchen sink and several industrial fans. I am still, however, eternally grateful for the air conditioning in my office, car and bedroom. Even Andrew had to admit that it was warm in our room last night and that was with the a/c on high.
Today, I get less hubba-hubba-hubby action, but a purported break in the swelter. At least they're currently predicting a ten degree drop in temperatures for today. Fingers crossed.
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