Skippin' Weeks

So, my last doctor's appointment went a bit like this... 

 ... 45 minute wait in the waiting area, which was as full as the Social Security office. I swear there were like two empty seats in the whole waiting area. That's a shit ton... er... maybe that is an exaggeration an ass load of patients. 

The wait was no fun, because my baby lives right under my diaphragm. The only comfortable way is to sit with my back arched which causes the top of the chair to cut into the top of my back. Meanwhile, my lower back is unsupported. My legs are swollen, so sitting lady-like in a comfortable position is also a challenge. 

I thought I would strike up a conversation with the more pregnant girl next to me. I happened to be thumbing through Harpers Bazaar and there was a photo of a woman lying on her back sunning herself. "Wouldn't you love to be able to lay like that again?" This could have scared the young woman who apparently laughed politely when my point was the inability to lay on ones back when pregnant. I asked her the typical questions that you ask a pregnant woman: "How far along are you? Is this your first? What are you having?" Only to not have any of the questions reciprocated. Fine, have fun sitting in silence. 

Finally, I got weighed in and my blood pressure taken. Ha! only a three pound gain in a month! No, I'm not dieting. I gained the same amount the last time around only to gain 25 pounds in the last two months and no I did not eat more. As I've explained before, I'm a sweller. I retain large amounts of water much like a camel except my hump is not on my back. The tendons in my feet no longer show and the swelling is only in the beginning stages.

Then the nursing assistant guided me back to the patient room. I immediately pulled out the foot rest on the table and laid down waiting another several minutes. My doctor walks in and the first thing she says is, "No cankles, yet. But there is still time." Cankles is how she diagnosed me the last time I was pregnant. Our conversation went from Cankles to Banana Hammocks. Yeah, that's what we girls talk about to our doctors at our girlie appointments. 

The more concerning thing was I couldn't recall how many weeks pregnant I was, but she measured and dopplered me and said something about being almost 33 weeks. "Really? Where has the time gone?" On my calendar at home, I have my weeks written down. It seems that either she is wrong, which I'm not doubting her. OR, I was wrong. OR, I'm measuring three weeks larger than my original due date, because my child is going to be LARGE.

I like large babies, but the birthing the large baby part makes me a bit nervous. Being cut is not an option... only if it is necessary. I'm not saying I'm a naturalist. God made the people who founded the epidural procedure too. If someone offered me an epidural now, I would get one. I will walk into the hospital and immediately ask for my drugs this time. But I digress, I'm not keen on the C-section for two reasons: first off is our insurance does not cover what is called "routine OB care". Whomever came up with this term should be beaten by a pack of pregnant women. There is nothing routine about being pregnant. WTF do you cover under this type of insurance, really? I will not go on, because I get upset. Our family cannot change the fact that our insurance changed to this sorry ass carrier "Golden Rule"... the rule is they have the gold by sucking out your gold. So, not only does our insurance NOT cover any of my OB visits, it does not cover the hospital fees and anesthesia. The price for a C-section is DOUBLE that of the vaginal delivery. Now, if something is wrong and it is necessary I'll get cut. My other reason for not wanting the C-section is not wanting to have my abdominal wall cut. It just seems like a painful recovery. I have many friends who have had C-sections and recovered just fine and probably better than what I went through with my first birth. I will not get into specifics, but I will say that I still had stitches.

Now, I've got to visit my doctor every two weeks.

24 & 25 Weeks

So, she is the size of an ear of corn at 24 weeks and a rutabaga at 25 weeks. 

My only question is how come this time around last time I could pack in food like a competitive eater and this time I can't? It isn't any fun. I will say that by lunch time I'm so hungry that I gorge myself to the point of discomfort, which is about an average sized helping for a girl like me. At dinnertime, I'm not hungry. The thought of eating gives me indigestion. 

The other preggie issue is dum dum dum... swelling. It has begun. I squatted at the refrigerator and my legs felt slightly tight behind the knees. This may be a grotesquely exaggerated observation on my behalf. Swelling is my pregnancy fear and nemesis. Bill Clinton would not be able to rip his eyes away from the beautiful cankles I was sporting the last time I was pregnant. It wasn't pleasant having the skin my lower extremities stretch and fill with fluid similar to what is inside of those stress ball things. I have no idea what would prevent this ailment and if I do find a cure I am positive that I will write a book, sell it on QVC, and sell it on infomercials at 4am. 

I am pretty sure that my child is as hairy as an Ewok. The heartburn/acid reflux/lava eruptions at night is horrible. I heard once from a friend who had bad acid reflux issues... coincidentally not during her pregnancy as she showed no symptoms whatsoever and could make a fortune as a surrogate... that milk helps. For a person who is desperate, but lactose intolerant, this did indeed squelch the burn. I did hypothesize that this was a possible swelling culprit. I went through a couple gallons a week and would chug it in the middle of the night. Maybe this time it won't be so severe. Fingers will be crossed.

Another pregnancy anomaly is my ability to do the Volcun hand salute with my toes. No, not on purpose and I was never a Star Trek fan. For some reason, this is a normal symptom of pregnancy - foot cramps. I could be on the fuzzy almost asleep state right before you drift off into sleepy town and BOOM - WTF ARE MY TOES DOING AND WHY WON'T THEY STOP - and I jump out of the bed to apply pressure or bend my toes back into normal shape. It really isn't just the toes it is the muscle on top of my foot and when I stretch in the morning a nice charley horse is the bodily response. 

Really, this is a blessed time and I'm so happy to be a part of this process. I remember thinking the whole time last time that it was such a cool experience - and there is no sarcasm involved in me saying that. There are some woman who would love to be in my shoes, so I should stop my belly aching, but it does provide good humor at my expense. It amazes me how much I forgot all these pregnancy side effects... or possibly after giving birth the lack of sleep helps to erase it from memory. 

Only 15 more weeks!

Memorial Day Weekend

How was our Memorial Day you may ask? Hmm... Memorable, because I took pictures and then I vowed to blog about it since I've been slack with my blog duties. 

Brian was working, so we didn't go to the lake. It also rained most of the weekend. What is a little boy to do? Strip down naked and play in the puddle. I tried to stop the nakedness, but there was a meltdown that was about to happen if I didn't let him rip off his pull ups. So, how do I get the upper hand? Take pictures that could potentially end up in his high school year book. I love you son!

This photo was taken after I decided to go at Shelby with her shedding saw blade thingee and Boden decided to pull a tomato off the plant on my porch and take a big ol' bite. I came back to find him with a tomato in hand, unwashed, and smile on his face. 

"What is in your mouth?"

"A tomato. See! I got it all by myself."

"Son, you have to wash the tomato first. Spit that out and let me wash it for you." Ugh, turn your head and you little boy eats a tomato that was dusted with 7 Dust. Thank God it had been raining.

Did you notice that he is also scratching his butt? 

Spider leads to vacuuming and furniture moving

Brian has been out of town since Tuesday, so my being the barefoot and pregnant atypical housewife skills have dwindled to coming home from work, putting on my pj's and a wife beater, and dinner that involves the least amount of cooking and cleaning. 

This morning I had a little more fire in the belly... no acid reflux joke here. It all started when I decided to finally fold and put away Boden's laundry that I started last week. I was sitting in the middle of the floor folding while Boden was sticking body parts in his newly discovered Mr. Potato Head, which he named Moody. I had just finished putting the socks away and completed my task when I saw something drop from my thigh. It was only a glimpse, but I thought it was black and then it crawled out from under the shadows and presented itself to me. To which I replied with a scream. 

Boden cries out, "It's an ant!"  

"NO! IT'S A SPIDER AND IT CAN BITE YOU!" 

I grabbed a wipes box and smushed it and ran for the vacuum while Boden climbed up into his chair out of the crime scene. The vacuum is slowly not becoming my friend, because I hate that it is like pushing around an elephant and my uterus responds with Braxton Hicks contractions. I had to get the vacuuming done anyway, because Shelby is loosing her hair like she is undergoing chemotherapy. 

I vacuumed the spider carcass up and proceeded to vacuum the rest of the house. I got the the living room and stopped. It is so dark in there. We have these french door window and that's it. There is a big leather chair and a half that is blocking the bottom half of two of the windows. Hmm...

Against all pregnancy rules and vacuum momentum, I started to move the chair to my bedroom. Sliding it down the hallway was easy. It was the getting it through the bedroom door where I got the chair stuck, which resulted in me taking the door of the hinges. Damn narrow doorways!

The chair is in the room, there is more light in the living room, the vacuuming is almost done (I had to stop to eat), and the door is propped up against the wall next to the chair. I'm sure Brian will get home and hate it there.

I'm not sure if this is just my personality or nesting, because now there is so much more furniture that just seems to be crowding in this house that I'm debating putting on Craig's List. It is either that or we will just have to move.

Number 2

My child Boden has bowel issues. I can honestly say this is one thing that he has in common with his late uncle Matt. My brother used to take massive dumps. The kind that would not flush. The kind in which our whole family would marvel at together while Matt stood with pride... and probably a soar ass. 

During our family trip across the country, not by choice, my father was transfered from California to Georgia. My father thought it would be better (cheaper) for us to load up the Mercury Lynx, which he bought new with NO AIR CONDITIONING. Is was my father, mother, Matt (10-years-old), me (8-years-old), and our parakeet, Bird. It was mid August and we were about on day two of the five day track. 

Matt had gone number two and had issues with getting the newly birthed fecal matter to flush. We requested a plunger from the motel, but to no avail. The poop child wouldn't go down. Finally, my mother, who is in no way similar to Joan Crawford, had to take a WIRE HANGER and cut the turd in flushable pieces. 

Boden has been taking adult-sized poops since he was five months old. The ladies at daycare delivered more than their fare share of bowel births. The poor child has a phobia of pooping, because of his association with these labors. I've tried everything in the past: straight juice, live culture acidophilus, molasses, karo syrup, Miralax. 

The other day he told me in the morning that he had to go "poo poo." I scooped him up and plopped him on the potty. Nothing happened. Later that day, I notice he is sitting on the floor with his knees up with the concentration look that he gets when he is trying to go. Again, I scoop him up and run him to the potty. This time he relaxed enough to get things going, which made him cry. I too want him to get over his fear and with pride said, "OH, look at this big poo poo." It was huge.

He leaned over the toilet looking at the fruit of his labors and said, "that sure is a big poop, mommy. It's a... it's a troll bridge, mommy." 

Did I mention he is creative too? The lincoln log he just birthed was stuck in the hole and was leaning against the side making what looked like to him a troll bridge.

20 Weeks

Kim Kardashian dressed up as an 80's pregnant aerobics instructor. Do you think that Reggie likes the look? Apparently, American Apparel is making a play for mommies who still are trying to keep their figure, which is nearly impossible for at least me to do while my body expands and bloats to uncomfortable proportions. Can't you just picture a group of gorilla-bellied mommas awkwardly shaking around to "She's a maniac - MANIAC - on the floor - and she's dancin' like she's never dance before..." 

The latter would be true as I forced myself to a Zumba class today at the gym. Some of you may know that I'm no stranger to dancing and I love the latin moves. As a pregnant girl, well it just doesn't look quite the same. The only thing that kept me there was the thought of being even larger and maybe just busting out wearing a sports bra and biker shorts with my baby gut. Surely, I would make all the other gals jealous...   of my confidence.

Some men actually find pregnant women sexy. That's nice that you feel that way after three months of us verbally abusing you. My theory is that the guy is just so hard up for some lovin' and has never seen their woman with boobs that big. I think my husband is still scared of me. He kind of acts very similar to how he was with a new born baby: very timid and unsure, loving, but is scared that he may do something that will disrupt some force that would ultimately cause him discomfort.

Today officially marks my 20th week, which means baby is half baked. This weeks food comparison is he or she is the same length as a banana. Mmmm... banana.

19 Weeks

It's a heirloom tomato this week and there really isn't anything important to report about with the pregnancy. The sonogram is scheduled for next Thursday and I am debated taking a look at the baby's plumbing. We didn't find out with our first in part to my fear of being loaded down with clothes and not getting the really important stuff like bottles, butt thermometers, and other necessities. Now that I have all that stuff and am not freaked out by not knowing how to operate as a parent I feel less inclined to wait.

My intuition is that I'm having a girl. First, Brian is very good at willing what he wants. An hour after I found out I was pregnant the first time he immediately indicated that it was a boy. Second, the last time I was at the doctor the baby bicycle kicked the doppler... and it hurt. The kicking started in my 16th week. With all this abuse, it must be a girl. Third, the Chinese Gender Calendar thingee says it is. I just have to check one more person who has never been wrong at guessing... or I can just peek when I go to my doctor's visit next week.