7/3/2011 - The Aftermath

Hey all! I've decided to write about my labor and delivery separate from this entry so you don't have to read nine pages of text. You're welcome.
For all who don't know (you all do), I gave birth to a healthy 6lb 6.6oz (yep, 666, no DOUBT!) boy on June 16th. And yeah, I'm just getting around to writing about all the great things that happen once you push a life out of your lady parts.
This entry is filled with lots and lots of gory details and a few non-gory photos (sorry, if only I had thought this through more) - most of which I had NO idea about. Moms, take this as a walk down memory lane. Non-moms, let this be your warning. Men, just be happy you were born with a penis.
Let's begin our journey with what happens "down stairs".
Once the epidural wears off (mine took effect after the birth, thank you very much) it feels as though someone has kicked your lady parts with a steel-toe boot while you were lying down in a naked split-eagle. I actually wasn't sure which part down there hurt worse and I was so scared that both my vagina and anus were distended that I had to have a nurse check. Luckily, they were not. I also made it through without hemorrhoids, but I had the ol' girl check for those as well.
After the delivery I was quickly put into some form of an adult diaper that was held on by fishnet boy shorts. This is not meant to be a flirty description, you can see from the photo below.
Also I was escorted into the bathroom by a nurse to pee for the first time so she could measure the blood bath that spewed forth and show me how I was to wipe myself.
She filled up a squirty bottle with warm water, squatted in front of my biz and proceeded to hose me down, warning "Make sure when you do this you clean up all the wee wee." Wee wee? At 33? Awesome.
Below is a photo of the bottle, diaper and underwear. Don't worry, they weren't used.

I was also told to pat dry so as not to tear anything. Comfortable!
What else? I had to sit on an ice pack for hours at a time to help with the swelling and take Motrin and...wait for it...stool softeners every 5 hours. I am telling you, the thought of producing a bowel movement at a time like that scared me more than the delivery part. I kept telling the nurses that there was NO WAY I could go without fully losing all of my intestines in the toilet. They reassured me that was what the stool softeners were for. Lord!
Back to the swelling. After I got out of the shower for the first time and padded around naked I actually felt my lady parts on my upper thighs. THAT'S RIGHT! Swollen to like 3 times the normal size.
I couldn't sit up, and getting out of that hospital bed was a nightmare. Swinging my legs over the edge and praying to get my ass off the side with only minimal pain.
After the trauma that my midsection endured the last 3 months, my abs felt so much like a warm Jell-o mold that I was really unable to sit up anyway. In fact, the minute my doctor pulled the baby out I felt my stomach and cried a little. It was like warm porridge.
My spine hurt like hell where the epidural was put in and leaning on it only made it worse.
Once I got home I took a mirror to  my lady parts and HOLY SHIT!!!!! I was not prepared for what I saw. It looked like a sad, purple hound dog that perpetually drools blood, I shit you not. And I was really sad that I didn't make a last minute bikini wax appointment, not only because my doctor had to be subjected to a rather unkempt southern region, but because NOTHING is touching there for a long long time. Hello Chewbacca!
At the suggestion of my sister in law, I had Sweet Husband go out and buy a donut for me to enjoy. Here is what I sat on for the better part of a week!

Three days after the delivery, the milk demons visited my boobs and enlarged them to three times their normal size. I have never seen a bigger rack on a small gal. They were also as soft as bricks and hurt like HELL. Every time the baby cried they started to ache and leak like hell PLUS I had to keep them strapped down under an ace bandage and an XS sports bra. Forget a shower, I couldn't touch them to ANYTHING. Burping the baby was one of the most painful experiences of my LIFE. They were hot and painful and swollen and miserable. It took about a week for them to settle down.
I think that's the gist of what happened. If I think of anything else I'll be sure to post it.

Here is a list of things that did NOT happen, though I was definitely expecting;
I did not get stretch marks
I do not have floppy boobs
My ankles/fingers didn't swell
My feet never grew
I didn't get a backache nor did I feel the contractions in my back
I didn't get "pregnancy nose" (apparently it's "pig-like") or a puffy appearance
And although my lady parts feel as though I banged a rolled up cylinder of carpeting, the size and shape is back to normal.
Now, if only I could say the same about my sleep...

7/27 - Addendum
I thought of a few more things that I didn't include in here.
First of all, it was my taint (for those of you who aren't versed with this word, that's the space between a lady's vagina and anus, or for the fellas, the scrotum and anus) that hurt for WEEKS after childbirth, not my vagina as I had fully prepared for. In fact, my vagina felt fine about 4 days after. The taint still bothers me and it's been almost 6 weeks.
Second! The bleeding after. I was prepared for 7-14 days and got to experience a SOLID 5 week "period". That's right! I even had to cancel my doctor appointment for the after check up because it was so nasty. That's a 35 day period people. It almost made up for all those weeks I got to skip while being pregnant.
And finally, anal incontinence. Yeah, you heard me. I have prided myself on holding back any sort of gas around Sweet Husband since the day I met him 4 years ago. The morning after the birth he crawled into bed with me at the hospital and I felt one coming on. Try as I might to squeeze (and let me tell you, even the THOUGHT of squeezing anything down there is quite daunting), out it came. I didn't say a word. Then SH said "Honey?" OMG!!!!! I farted on my husband! ON him! Not around him, not near him, ON HIM. How the mighty have fallen.

I am also going to start a sort of sister blog regarding the JOYS of parenting! Stay tuned!

6/12/2011 - The Final Frontier

Well we can start the countdown, kids. If things go according to plan (and you KNOW they always do) I should be delivering in 11 days. Whew!
Everyone always complains about the last few weeks of pregnancy. I thought it was mainly due to discomfort, which certainly is part of it, but there is so much more than that.
It is uncomfortable. My belly feels like if it stretches anymore, I'll burst. Picking stuff up off the floor or tying your shoes, as I've mentioned before, is crazy uncomfortable. If you stand for too long, your back hurts. The Braxton Hicks' contractions are coming much more regularly so you feel as though your belly (uterus) is on constant lock down. The baby is big now and strong as a bull, apparently, and the movements, although not as busy, hurt a hell of a lot more. Especially when it waits until you bend over to deliver a kick to the underside of your ribs. I couldn't point to my intestines now if you paid me and when I get that I-have-to-go feeling, it's no longer in my lower abdomen, it's somewhere in my side. I didn't eat for three hours today while we were at a baby care class (more on that later) and by the time we got home I was shaking so violently I had to lay down right on the kitchen floor. Sleeping sucks now because you have to get up to pee three times, rather than once or twice AND each time you get up it feels as though you haven't allowed yourself to pee in weeks. It HURTS. If you stay in a sleeping position too long and then decide to move, awful cramps wrack your belly and sides. That's just the physical parts. People out in public start talking about you like you aren't even there. I got out of the pool at the gym the other day and one of the two gents in the hot tub said to the other "Whoa! She's gonna POP! I hope it's not here!". WTF? I can hear you, asshole.
Mentally, you know you've carried this baby around for 10 months. Enough is enough. You're tired, you want your body back, your old sleep patterns, the ability to touch the floor without barfing, but you also want to meet your baby. What will it look like? When is it coming!? So, all of this plus the anticipation and anxiety over having a baby come in to your life. It's exhausting!
We took a Baby Care Basics class today at a local hospital that was about 10% informative and 90% boring as hell. They actually had a five minute discussion on how you should never shake your baby. Um, does this need to be taught? Although, one father-to-be raised his hand and asked if we should be buying "those helmets" for our babies to protect them from bumping their heads against lord-knows-what, so maybe things do warrant explaining. They talked about "tummy time" and "kangaroo parenting" and all sorts of ridiculously named activities you can do with your baby. I think I can figure that much out.
The class after (which we did NOT sign up or stay for) was a breastfeeding class. We all know where I stand on this so I won't bring it up again but I do have to say this...WITH MEN??? A room full of men going through 2 hours of breastfeeding lecture!?! Is that really the place for MEN? I'm sorry! Call me old-fashioned but that gave me the vapors something FIERCE! Even if my plan was to breastfeed, I'd sit there and learn it next to some random dude over my dead body! Talking about nipples and sucking and...oh my god. I'm going to faint. Why does this birthing thing have to be such a "both of us" experience!? Is nothing sacred? Can us women have nothing private anymore? Things just to ourselves that we can share and talk about and support each other with? What next? Inviting your man to come to your annual pap-smear? What about the colonoscopy? I get that he's a part of the baby too, but he doesn't need to be EVERY part of it when it resides in my body. The day they figure out how to allow men to have babies, we'll be signing up for another one. Until then, settle back with your scotch, put your feet up and watch baseball on the hospital's waiting room TV. I got this shit.

6/8/2011 - These are nacho boobs!

The other morning I woke up without the help of an alarm or a cat meowing in my ear or a truck rattling by. It was a lovely Sunday morning and I had nothing to do. I rolled over to find SH reading a book about baby sleep patterns in the bed next to me. I smiled.
"Good morning"
He looked over and began to smile than stopped, pointed his finger toward my tank top and said
"I think you leaked"
"What? Leaked WHAT?" I looked down at the chest of my white tank and saw a crusty stain the size of a quarter right over the ol' nip. Here is the gross part. The perimeter of the stain was a very light whitish color, almost the same color as my tank. The inside of this stain, however, was the exact color of queso dip. Look people, you gotta take the good with the bad here. Stay with me.
I sat up
"Oh, no. I don't think that's what it is. Maybe the dryer had some rust in it." I scratched the stain. Nope. It was crusty all right.
"If you say so"
"Damn it! That's disgusting!! What IS that? Why is it that color?"
I ran to the bathroom to pre-treat. So much for my relaxing morning.


Long before I ever thought I would get pregnant, I had a theory. It was simple; you do not have to simply give up when you become pregnant. Now, since I was never pregnant, I was met with a lot of negative feelings. A bunch of you-have-no-idea-what-it's-like's and a slew of just-wait-until-you're-pregnant's. Well I am now pregnant. I do have a very good idea and I still say movement and self-confidence is a very very good thing. Both alleviate all sorts of problems. Like I always say, having a bad day? Nothing some high heels and red lipstick can't fix.
The other day I saw a pregnant woman on the street and stopped to talk to her. She was leaning back, legs splayed with one hand on her back. I thought she was literally laboring, just walking through the neighborhood and getting through it. I asked how far along she was.
"29 weeks"
W
H
A
T?
Now that I'm in this club I feel like so many women read the back of the label in pregnancy. You know what I mean? You get some weird pills from your doc and read "May cause drowsiness, headaches, nausea and vomiting" and by noon, you are CONVINCED you  have all of those symptoms. I think some of us convince ourselves that it's going to be SO this or SO that, that we don't really stay in the moment and experience it. Yeah, I hate pregnancy. It sucks. Or rather, blows. I am not a fan of sharing my body, or of having my ribs kicked and my bladder pummeled randomly throughout the day, but I'm not incapacitated! I am two weeks from my due date and I am still at the gym every day. I don't waddle, I never have my hand on my back, it doesn't take me 5 minutes to sit on the couch or get up from it. I still wear my wedding band, my feet haven't swollen or changed size and the maternity clothes I bought in month 5 still fit perfectly. I am not saying this to brag or come off as better than the next, but merely to say I'm not some crazy anomaly. I'm not "blessed" (as someone at the gym told me the other day), it's not because I have "good genes" (another ridiculous comment), it's because I am doing everything I did before I became pregnant and everyone else can too.
Our birthing class was full of women who required (or put on like they did) their husbands to help them up or rub their feet during class (now, don't think I don't enjoy a solid foot rub at days end) or get them water from two feet away.
Ladies! We are stronger than this! We are growing a LIFE inside of us that we will ALL push out of our vaginas (or have ripped from our abdomens in SURGERY) sooner or later. Why not give yourself a fighting chance here!? A little CREDIT! Stop with the excuses and the inability to go through life like you used to! Get moving. Stop expecting everything bad to happen and just sit there waiting. Please! I can't take it!

6/3/2011 - Kill Me

Yeah, it's been a while since my last post. I had a bunch of stuff to update you with but now I've forgotten all of it. How awesome!
I woke up today feeling pretty depressed. Just another perk of pregnancy hormones is my guess, and since that time I have not only experienced the blues, but also more throw up and now diarrhea.
I met up with a friend for coffee early this morning and on the way there decided to eat a banana to get something in my system (I woke up feeling nauseous). When I arrived I had a 1/2 caf latte and a cherry turnover. Both left me feeling gross. I explained my blues to my friend who said it sounded more like anxiety and I have to say, I agree. Except I'm not anxious about anything. But I'm super negative and down in the dumps which is not like me at all. Anywho, I digress.
After coffee I came home and changed to go to the gym. That's when the throw up happened followed in quick succession by the diarrhea (good thing I chose the bathroom sink to wretch in this time). On the way to the gym I felt another wave of puke coming on and thought I should eat something more so I downed 1/3 of a Mountain Mojo bar. Usually, I love these. Today it made me sick. Got to the gym and, of course, pushed myself way too hard in class. Came home from the gym so nauseous I had to lay down. I realized that I was hungry beyond belief but NOTHING sounded good to me.  I tried to create meals in my mind. I thought about what kind of take out was around. The only thing that sounded good was Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese and a diet cherry Coke. Sick. Plus, I don't have either in the house. So, I stayed in my sweaty gym clothes, threw on some Croc's with my socks and carelessly schlepped back out to the market to get these items. This is also something I never do. Whenever I go in public, I always try to make myself presentable. I couldn't be less so today.
Now, let's add the nutrients of my day so far. Banana, a "fake" fruit as it's basically all sugar, non-fat latte, a little calcium and vitamin D, cherry turnover, nothing but sugar and carbs, Mountain Mojo, very little protein and a lot of carbs, and now mac 'n' cheese and a coke. Carbs. Carbs. Carbs. Protein, where are you?
I think I can hear my baby screaming to get out.
*sigh*
I took a belly shot at 35 weeks, even though I'm 37 now. I'll show it anyway so you can track this frightening progression.

And now, 37. Hold on to your ass...

Just so you're not totally alarmed, my belly skin is red on the Week 37 shot because SH and I went to the beach and got ourselves some massive sunburns. I did think enough to put SPF 70 around my belly button, which is why it looks like a white bulls eye.
Well folks, turns out pregnancy isn't all fast cars and loose women. It really does blow.

5/17/2011 - Hey, Guess What?

I have a massive rash on my tits! What fun! It showed up sometime on Saturday evening and has been holding steady ever since. It travels nowhere but the boob area, stopping right at the perimeter. This is awesome. Just when I thought I was out of shitty things to talk about, up pops the boob hives! They're hot and itchy and irritated with sweat (which rocks as I'm still working out 8 hours a week) and nothing is making them feel better. I bet SH finds me even more desirable now.
Oh, and speaking of sex appeal, the other night we were getting ready for bed. I was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing the pillows (profile to SH) with my knee bent sideways, applying my nightly regimine of lippy and hand cream when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw SH look down to my upper thigh (right where it meets the ass cheek on the side there...I had on short shorts) and touch it ever so gently. IMMEDIATELY I knew something was wrong with my body. The touch had that sort of sympathy feel. I looked down to find about 5 dimples of fucking cellulite on my upper thigh!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? This has to be some sort of a joke. I screamed and jumped up.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! Where did that come from? What IS that!?"
SH looking as though he wished he never touched it
"Honey, Jesus! Look at me! I'm a fucking WHALE and now I have cellulite!?"
"It's not a big deal, babe. You're pregnant"
"My THIGHS aren't pregnant! Holy shit.  My whole body is going to hell. Why did you TOUCH it!?"
He sat thinking. What would be the right answer? He opted for the truth.
"I just wanted to see what it felt like."
Oh my god.
"Next time just go to the fridge and caress the god damn cottage cheese! This sucks!"
So there. TWO things. It just keeps right on sucking.
I've also decided I hate the floor. Like, HATE...THE...FLOOR. Why does everything have to be on the fucking floor? Shoes, feet, bags, cats that want to be picked up, low shelves in the kitchen, the cat box. It hurts to bend over now. Hurts to scrunch down. It feels like I'm wearing a huge, fully stuffed backpack in the front of my body, IN my body. I lean over and my lungs feel like they're going to pop, my stomach wretches its juices toward my mouth, my eyeballs bulge. It's horrible! I can't tie my shoes without groaning and panting like a dog in heat. Getting a Tupperware lid requires me to hunker down to an "all fours" position and crawl my way to the back of the cabinet.
We went to a party on Sunday and I was talking to a girl who was drinking a bottle of water. She went to screw the top back on and it fell on to the floor. I audibly gasped like "Oh no! Now what?" as I watched it spin a lazy circle. I was really upset, almost angry. Then I realized I wasn't the one who had to pick it up. That was a great feeling.
5 weeks and 2 days to go, or so they say. I think the math might be off here.
I'm wondering if once I give birth that I'll feel all light and empty inside right away. Like I can just sit up and take in a full lung of breath. Whew.
I sure hope so.

5/9/2011 - The Last Word

I feel like I've talked about my distaste for breastfeeding my infant ad nauseam but over the past few weeks, a shit storm has rained down upon me and I'm going to rant one last time before I let it go forever (I hope).
People, listen. You can feed whomever you want with your boobs. I'm not trying to make a law banning breastfeeding. I'm not judging you for sticking your nipple into your infants mouth. This is a personal choice and it does not make you a better person or mother than me. Much like women who choose to have a C-section or women who choose to have an epidural are not any less "motherly" than those who do it without drugs in a birthing tub in a shed in the back of their house. It is a personal choice. Those babies aren't any stronger, more beautiful, healthier or better off than the babies who came out an incision in the stomach.
Say anything you want about breast milk, and people do. It cures diseases. It's "best" for the baby. It'll help you lose weight. WHATEVER. I don't want to fucking do it and I am not going to feel any guilt about mixin' up some formula and handing it over.
In fact, in January a study was done regarding the nutritional benefits of breast milk versus modern formulas and the results came back the SAME. One was not better than the other.
I have countless friends and family members that even say "I breast fed my baby and my friend bottle fed. My baby was sick ALL the time and her baby was totally fine."
Now, believe the study or don't, HERE is my gripe.
Riding me for choosing not to breast feed is a waste of fucking time. Know why? Because it doesn't affect you in the least! MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. Me giving my child breast milk or formula won't affect you AT ALL. You can still sleep a full night and go out with your friends. You won't be kicked out of your house or have your car repossessed. Your life will go right on ticking. My choice won't change anything you do.
If people are so concerned with the health of other people's babies, why don't we go after unhealthy pregnant women? The house that my little fetus is getting to develop in is FABULOUS. I eat roughly 90 grams of protein a day, loads of fiber and tons of fruits and vegetables. I drink at least 64 oz of water a day if not more. I don't smoke or live with anyone who does. I don't eat fast food. I exercise 8-10 hours a week at the gym and walk the dog another 2-3 hours a week. 99% of my meals are consumed at home, made by me and in 33 weeks, I've gained 14 pounds. Now, compare me to the fat, unhealthy, sloth-like pregnant women I see everywhere. Women who use their pregnancy to eat whatever the fuck they want and lay around on their expanding asses. Women who smoke and act like it's 100% their right? Now, when THOSE women decide to breast feed whatever disgusting junk they put into their body to their babies, they are held high in society as doing what is BEST for their infant! But mention to her that maybe she should be doing a little better job helping her fetus grow? OH NO!  That is completely taboo! Who do we think WE are judging someone for not working out or eating a balanced meal? It's just none of our business.
That's right! And neither is this.
Back off, boob freaks! You're gonna get yourself punched.
*pant pant*
There. Done.

5/6/2011 - The Barf-A-Thon is Back

My fingers smelled like puke the other day. Like, all day. I washed. I scrubbed under my fingernails. I moisturized with smelly lotion. Nothing helped. Little did I know this was foreshadowing at its finest.
Yesterday morning I woke up after another exceptionally bad night of sleep. Seems the mountains of pillows I have accumulated for my comfort aren't really helping me and are also hindering my cat's ability to sleep with me, which of course, wakes me up all night long. Anyway, I woke up early so that I might take SH to work before heading off to school. I had a doctors appointment later that day and was feeling...I don't know...generous, so I invited SH along (the first he's been invited to). As I'm putting toothpaste on my brush, I feel a wave of nausea. "Oh no" I think "this has to be over". Once the brush touches my teeth, I dry heave exactly three times. Nothing that big, but disturbing none-the-less. Now, if you've never enjoyed the sensation of throwing up with a baby inside of you allow me to explain. It felt like someone kicked my belly up toward my boobs three times in a row. My muscles tightened and that baby FLEW. Crazy.
Well, this morning I wake up and want NOTHING to eat. I mean, absolutely nothing sounded good. After about 40 minutes (way too long to wait, I know) I decide on poached eggs (my new favorite breakfast food), tortillas and beans. As I boil the water, the nausea hits. I take this as a sign my blood sugar is low and, without thinking of its consequences, open the fridge and quickly down 4 swigs of orange juice. I walk out of the kitchen to grab something and feel it hit.
"Oh shit!"
I race to the kitchen sink where I proceed, FOR FIVE MINUTES, to throw up every last trace of  acidic orange juice (still cold) and whatever sort of bile I had in there. My eyelids are sweaty, my throat is burning, my stomach hurts from being pressed against the counter, my baby is bouncing away and people that are walking by (we live on the first floor and our windows literally open up to the sidewalk) are pausing outside to stare. I can do nothing but continue until my body is done with whatever it feels offended it so much and then do my best to blow the orange snot out of my nasal cavity before heading off to teach a class.
I thought this shit was over. Brutal!
Ah, the doctor answered all of my questions, so here they are;
1. Yes, fairly close to normal.
2. You can wear your own clothes if you want.
3. I quote "It's not the 50's. We don't shave your privates and put you under. Come as you are."
4. No it is not.
5. I will quote again "You can take it home with you if you want, it's yours."
Sweet.
And I found out I am up 14.4 pounds since when this whole thing began. Making me a very rotund 136.4 pounds. Which sucks but is definitely better than I thought, especially after my eat-a-thon in Chicago.
I made a comment in birthing class the other day (after everyone in the group shared how much they just adore being pregnant) that I hate being huge and groaning when I tie my shoes. The wacky teacher said "Well" in a tone "we don't want skinny pregnant ladies!" All the ladies clucked their tongues and looked shamefully in my direction.
And I thought, this is what people are giving me so much slack over! They think I want to look as though I'm not pregnant. Or stay "skinny" throughout! This is an impossible wish and certainly not mine. My panic about this weight gain comes from what happens AFTER, people. What happens when all of the weight isn't "baby weight" and I'm all of a sudden carrying around 8 pounds of fat more than I did when I became pregnant? What happens when I'm clocking 2 hours of sleep and can't bare to drag my ass to the gym? What happens when I come home to find my jeans don't fit? My arms are flabby? My abs can no longer be seen?? This is my panic. So do I want to gain 30 pounds because that's in the "normal" range? No I certainly do NOT! I want to gain whatever it takes to float this baby around, house this nasty placenta (I may post that pic!) and increase my blood flow plus the weight of my fetus. And that is that. Nothing more. But I will take a little less. I shudder to think how long this is going to take.
Ol' fatty fatty two-by-four...
I forgot to mention this other stupid story in my last post, so here it is.
I went to the gym to swim a few weeks ago and as I was descending the stairs into the pool, a woman of about 20 floated by.
"Oh! Congratulations!!"
"Thanks"
"What are you having? A boy or a girl?"
"We don't know, we want to be surprised."
She let her noodle float away and stood up, very seriously.
"Well, if it's a boy you should name it Brandon."
I'm silent
"That's the name of my boyfriend."
I dropped under the water and swam to the next lane.
Are you kidding me? I've heard some stupid shit since I've been pregnant, but that about tops the list. Name your child after my BOYFRIEND? What!? How does that even make sense!?? Not like, name it Peter so it can have your last name (thank you K). Or, name it after a brave war hero. Name it after my BOYFRIEND?! Jesus CHRIST!
So, we've decided on the boys name. Brandon Alexander Joseph.
After some random chick's boyfriend that I've never met. What a great story for our son to have.
Fuck that.

5/2/2011 - Jesus Saves and Other Good Stories

I've been getting Braxton Hicks contractions like a motherfucker lately. If you're not sure what they are, they've been described in books as "practice contractions". So, they aren't really PAINFUL, per se. Just uncomfortable. Your stomach (which, in fact, is your uterus. I'm just giving you a focal point) starts to tighten up like a charlie horse and then holds on for about 30 seconds. My BHC's kind of "roll" down my belly from the top to the bottom and then hold on for dear life. At first I thought it was this baby doing some sort of wacky shit in there, but later discovered it was not. I am now getting anywhere from 2-5 a day. I said to our birthing class teacher (more on that kook later) "If this is what a contraction is like, I'm not going to have any problems!". She looked sympathetic and said "Oh, honey. I hate to tell you..." I get it. I get it.
People have been staring at me in my enlarged state for a few weeks now. Which is fine. I did/do it too. It's not like you see a big ol' pregnant woman everywhere you go and there's just something...interesting about it all. You need to stare. When I notice these people, I never make eye contact. I figure it's just better to let them take it all in and think they're being sly than to catch them and make them feel stupid. Or worse, have them strike up some nonsense conversation with me about their own child birthing experiences. No thanks.
Anyway, I was walking the dog the other day and crossed the street at the stop sign. I noticed the guy to my left didn't proceed forward after I had cleared the crosswalk.
"Let him stare" I thought, and stuck 'er out a little more. He began to roll forward and then slammed on his brakes. His window was rolled all the way down and he stretched the top half of his body through the opening.
"Oh!! Oh!! JESUS SAVES!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hmmmm.
I looked over at him. No sense ignoring that. And sure, he was a couple ticks shy of completely loony. Late model car with plenty of dings and rust, an even amount of teeth in his mouth and hair on his head (like, 9), threadbare shirt. And I stood there for a moment pondering if he perhaps thought me the Virgin Mary. Listen, I know that sounds ridiculous but you weren't there. You didn't hear his tone. It was as if he had witnessed a miracle. And, because I love working with crazy, I lifted my hand in a slightly rounded royal wave and bowed my head to him, pleased to have made his day. He laughed a crazy cackle and sped on, happy as a clam.
Don't ask me.
My mother recently told me that she didn't want to read this blog anymore if I wasn't going to put "some good things about pregnancy up there, too". Which is totally ridiculous for a blog that is named Pregnancy BLOWS, but I did think of something positive so this is for her (she's not reading anyway).
All of a sudden, I am getting the royal treatment everywhere! The other day I was standing in line for the bathroom and the woman in front said "Oh my gosh, ladies, let her go first. We all know how THAT feels." I was texting at the time so I had no idea she was talking to me until the woman in front of me grabbed my arm and ushered me to the next available stall.
At Target, I was standing in line with about 100 items in my cart. The man in front of me who, I shit you not, had THREE items (storage bin, white sport socks, Trident spearmint) said "Oh, why don't you go ahead!" (I declined the offer).
At the gym a few weeks back I was taking a few large plates off the leg press machine I wanted to use and guy stopped his workout mid-rep and flew over to the machine "Let me get that for you!"
Huh? It's crazy.
But pretty positive, huh mom?
Mom?
Now, the birthing class. We have 3, 3-hour classes to take in order to learn how to push or whatever they want you to learn. The teacher is a total whack-a-do. Sweet Husband, who never says anything negative about anything leaned over after 20 minutes and said "She's a NUT!" I smiled "You love her, don't you?" I nodded. She's kind of nature mother-y. Says stuff like "You are all HOT mamas!" and "You will never be more powerful than when you have a LIFE *pause for dramatic effect* INSIDE....OF...A LIFE!" Then she'll purse her lips like she's about to kiss you, eyes wide, and stare at each of us for a second or two. Super weird. How can you not love that?
We don't go back for another two weeks, but BELIEVE that I will be writing more on her. She's got material coming out her nose!
And now, on to the belly pictures!!

Whew that's nasty! My ribs and hip bones are still hanging on for dear life. With a mere 8 weeks to go, I'm afraid they may soon lose the battle.
I've also finally developed the dark line down my stomach, as you can see in exhibit 2. Except mine isn't symmetrical on the top and the bottom, which drives me NUTS!!
When I was a little kid my mom used to French braid my hair. Once she had finished I had to "check" it. This meant I put the heel of my little hands on the top of my ears and place my palms flat to my head. If the braid didn't hit both my middle fingers at the exact point on each side, I'd freak out and she'd have to do it over. She quickly became a PRO at symmetry. This I never outgrew. So just imagine what this does to me every day.
*sigh*
My doctor, whom I adore, has encouraged me to keep a list of questions handy on my iPhone so that I might ask her (and not forget) every time I see her. I like to get creative with my lists and then read them aloud as if they were some sort of essay topic assignment. On this week's list;
Beef Curtains, Will They Ever Return To Normal?
Hospital Outfits, Really?
Poontang Hair During Delivery, How Much Is Too Much?
Nudity, Is It Really Necessary?
and last but not least;
Placenta, May I Take A Picture?

Answers on my next post!

4/12/11 - Sicilian Smile

My belly button feels like it's going to rip open at any moment. I did make a snide comment to my doctor a month ago about how I wanted this baby to come out.
Her "So, we going natural or should we start talking about scheduling a C-section?"
Me "God no! No C-section. I mean, I don't want it to come out EITHER way, really. Is there a way to give birth through your belly button? I'll sign up for that."
I'll take it back now. I've never paid more attention to this damn button ever in my life.
Here's the best way to describe it; wipe off any sort of lip moisturizer you might have on. Now, hook one index finger in each corner of your mouth and pull as hard as you can. Feel the stretching, burning, itching sensation your lips are experiencing? Now imagine that not only being the skin surrounding your belly button, but also the button itself. It's miserable.
Saturday afternoon was spent rubbing baby oil on my belly and trying to push the skin back toward the center to recreate what my belly button USED to look like, while getting some temporary stretching relief.
So, let's review. Here is what happens to your body during pregnancy.
First, you can get violently ill and have horrible headaches that last for weeks. But that isn't always the case for everyone (lucky bitches) so I'll talk about what happens to all of us.

• Mad itchy tits AND nipples (and I hate that word so you know it's in the interest of full disclosure that I'm even saying it) that feel as though they've been set on fire. Oh yes, and also every few weeks, they hurt so bad you can hardly put a bra on. Oh! AND they have lumps in them so big you'll be running to the nearest oncologist to make plans for a full mastectomy. 
• Feeling your boobs physically touch the top of your tummy when you sit down. For those of us whose boobs' undersides have never anything except the bottom of our bra cup, this is especially frightening.
• Swollen lady parts. OH YOU HEARD ME! They don't hurt but they sure do look ugly as hell. That's probably why you can't see them on your own without the aid of a mirror.
• Loss of breath from doing NOTHING due to your lungs being pushed up somewhere just beneath your collar bone.
• Having your heart beat RACE like you just sprinted around the block, but really did no more than blink your eyes.
• Massive side-stitch pains just above your hip bones and along your sides.
• Skin that is stretched and shiny and itchy in your abdomen and, as mentioned before, a belly button that hurts like hell.
• No longer making it through the night without peeing as your bladder is the size and shape of a deflated bike tire.
• Getting to feel the indescribable sensation of having your ribs kicked from the inside.
• Having a foot push into your stomach.
• Dark splotches on your face that no amount of makeup can cover up.
• Feeling nauseous every time you lay flat on your back, and
• Peeing just a little bit every time you sneeze.

I can see why this is so very appealing.
Add to that the fact that my legs have been KILLING me lately. So sore!!  I'm clearly a little slow because it only just occurred to me that this was due to carrying an extra 11 pounds around while going through my normal workout routine. Try wearing a weight vest the next time you hit the gym. Fun, ain't it?
And without further ado, the latest installment of the belly pics *gulp*

Still my friend? Hang tight, baby. It's only going to get worse.

Also, a little lesson here. A friend donated her old crib to our cause and we set it up a tad prematurely. I hope this baby can fight for its rights because this territory has done been claimed!

3/30/11 - I Love You Bears

I am deeply saddened and depressed by the stuffed animals in flower shops. This has always affected me but now that I'm pregnant, it's damn near unbearable. What is it about these bears?? The bigger, the more depressing. Their expectant faces and shiny plastic fur. Their little arms holding a red velvet heart. Their perpetual hope that someone will take them home. And when they are shoved ass-down into a gift basket and covered with plastic only to be peddled road-side by some sorry sap trying to make a living? The worst. I can't take it!
I was stopped at a red light in Eagle Rock yesterday, right in front of a flower shop and just through the door I saw a white bear about 4' high and 2 1/2' wide. It was gigantic and sitting on a white pedestal looking out into traffic with this forced smile on its face. I thought about how long he must have been sitting there. How dusty his snow white fur must have been and if they ever bothered to dust him off or cover him up. How someone might see this bear and want him, only to walk in and get a close look at the cobwebs that surely surround his shiny nose and eyes and then reject his happy face on the spot. I burst into tears. "I'm sorry bear!" And I'm talking REAL tears. Sobbing! I was only jolted back to reality when the car behind me laid on the horn because I had ignored the green light for so long, blathering in my car.
I hate stuffed animals for this reason. I think they should all cease to exist. I have an incredibly hard time not assigning human emotions to these stuffed creatures. And who needs them?? I mean, if some lady gets that giant white bear, what in the HELL is she going to do with it?? It will end up at Goodwill with all the rest of the I Love You Bears on the back shelf near the glassware, and then what?
It's too much to think about. I'll stop now.
Well, a few of you have requested a rack picture, and although this probably wasn't what you had in mind I wanted to show off how clever I can be. As I have mentioned in previous posts, my tits are on fire. FIRE, I tell you. I can't bear (omg!) it another second. So, I devised a way to deal with it and still get to walk around. X-small sports bra (my old size) + ice pack + headscarf = sweet relief!

Ahhh! Can't you just feel it's cooling powers!
(And look at that cleavage!)

3/24/2011 - Attack of the Body Snatcher

My little nugget here has finally figured out that the room it has been able to enjoy for so long is slowly (or not so slowly) coming to an end. As this baby gets bigger (and BOY is it bigger!) the space with which it used to swim with reckless abandon is now closing in fast. The way Baby J has decided to cope with this is what we might refer to as "living it up while you still can". Somersaults happen almost every hour on the hour and the newest thing it's learned to do is lodge some part of its body up under my ribcage just shy of my sternum. I can't really describe this feeling other than to say it's terribly uncomfortable. It feels like you have this MASSIVE burp coming on. A room-clearer. And just when you gear up for it...nothing. But the pressure still remains, like someone pausing in the middle of the upthrust while administering the Heimlich. And you just be careful not to force this pretend burp or you'll be back to square one, puking in your cupped hands.
I've also noticed this happens with my intestines. Baby J will wedge in at some point in my intestinal tract and I'll feel as though I have to pass gas like never before. I run from the room (of course I do not pass gas in front of SH, even though many people told me I'd "get over that" once I was pregnant. Not so!) only to discover it was never gas in the first place. What the hell!? I can feel it rolling over slowly, elbowing whatever it can on its slow flip and positioning itself in the worst position it can find. If this is a window into what's to come, I may not be joking about leaving for Palm Springs for the first year.
With all of these maternity pants that now make up 1/2 of my wardrobe, I am completely convinced I'm going to forget how to operate a zipper and button when the time comes. Getting dressed? Pull your pants up! Going to the bathroom? Pull your pants down! I feel like a 2 year old wearing Pull Ups! Try being sexy with elastic waist pants. Go ahead! The days of being undressed by my husband (even his eyes, let's be honest) are over. I mean does "Hook your thumbs into my elastic waist band and tug honey" sound sexy? Jesus! Now it's more like "Close your eyes...no wait, turn off the light, close your eyes and pretend you're a contestant on Double Dare and there's a million dollar pot on the line!"
Wait until you get a load of these picture. Holy bejezuz...

And just you wait! The best is yet to come!

I am the mother fucking walrus! It looks like an adult sized human head is trying to bust through my abdomen!
Sweet Husband actually said "Eh, the shadows make it look bigger than it is". The shadows! Ha! Isn't he a dear. Check out my poor little ribcage trying to simultaneously hold on to both its positioning and its dignity! As if to say "I will not be pushed any further!" Oh but I fear you will, dear ribcage. I fear you will.
I was reading in a book the other day (I'll just go ahead and quote this) "Women who have previously been worried about their body size may for once be reconciled with their larger shape and positively enjoying it. Some women become deeply attached to their growing bump and a little sad at the prospect of losing it." Losing it?? I almost lost my SANITY when I read that! I jabbed a sleeping SH in the ribs and yelled that entry at him. Enjoying it? Sad to see it go? You know what I see every time I look in the mirror? A hell of a lot of hard work ahead of me. I hope the gym allows tenants.
And, our last stop, Sarcasm Station!
You know what I love? When people ask me questions that I am in no way capable of answering. These usually come from gym members, but not always. Questions like;
So, when are you going on leave?
When are you coming back?
How long are you going to be out for?
Are you going to go through the birth without drugs?
People! Have I ever given birth before?? I have no idea! How could I?! What does it take to recover enough to jump around with weights like a crazy person? 2 weeks? 2 months? 2 years?? How long does it take to sit down and not jump up from the pain? I don't KNOW! But you know what question I'D like someone to answer for ME? How long after birth does your vagina feel as though you copulated with a hot curling iron? Riddle me that, batman!
JJ, out.

3/8/2011 - Mood Swing-a-ding-ding

Man, I thought I was moody with PMS! Whew! That was NOTHING!
It seems as though I like to *try* to start fights with Sweet Husband over the most ridiculous things. I say try because, if you know him, there really is no fighting with him. He's mellow, laid back and utterly impossible to get riled up. Me? I'm riled up over everything. The Tupperware lid not staying on the shelf where I threw it with all my might. A bag of peas falling out of the freezer after I stuff it full of food. Cat hair on the bed sheets (my cat does sleep with me, under the covers, after all). I'm sure all my neighbors think I'm losing my marbles because all they hear is "Seriously?! Why do I have to be the only one to PUT STAMPS ON ENVELOPES!!?" Silence "No I DON'T want you to take it over, I just don't want to be the ONLY ONE to stamp an envelope!" Silence "FORGET it! We ran out anyway." Though I suppose they could think I'm talking on the phone.
My favorite response of SH's to my moods has to be "So this is what's going to do it today?" in a really calm, sweet tone. As if any of the reasons I get angry lately hold any sort of water.
Not that it's all bad. They're called swings for a reason. Sure it swings into Evil Town, but eventually it HAS to swing back to Life's Great!
Like the other night. Not fifteen minutes after I went through a tirade about dirty dishes being "all over" the kitchen (we were in the process of making dinner), SH makes a comment about not wanting to eat any more Oriental rice crackers and I laugh so hard I cry. Seriously 10 minutes of nonstop laughter.
Come to think of it, he might think I'm crazy too.
More on my moods, a couple at the gym has taken it upon themselves recently to send me an email after each and every class one or both of them attends to breakdown their opinion on my state of mind. Now, if THAT doesn't help, I don't know what will. I get emails like;
"Whoa. We could tell you were a little frustrated tonight!", or
"I missed your class but *Blank* said you were all smiles. Nice to have you back!", or
"I noticed you were correcting my form a lot today. I guess you were in a bad mood."
JESUS LORD SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!
Maybe since they are apparently ALWAYS in fabulous moods, I'll start critiquing their outfits.
"I can't help but notice you've worn the same bike shorts not only all week but ever since 1983."
"Lime green with evergreen? Interesting choice."
"Are your socks supposed to lay open at the ankles?"
"Are you familiar with the term 'camel toe'?"
I'm sick of it, I tell you!
Just did a pregnancy yoga tape a friend gave me and now I'm actually feeling all sorts of peaceful, so I guess that's it for the bitch session today!
Namaste!

3/7/2011 - Pain In The Side!

Well gang, it's official. I'm a god damn whale. My belly has popped out and I can no longer fudge it. Even my bigger jeans don't fit. I was in the bath yesterday reading a magazine and having the time of my life when I looked down and saw my swollen belly protruding out of the water like a sad little patch of land marooned after a hurricane. I'm still not used to this whole business and I doubt I will be. June can't come soon enough! I find myself throwing a longing eye toward every Cross-Fit, MMA or Pilates studio I pass, wishing I could pop in and join the sweaty masses. I design entire workouts only to get to the weight room and realize I can't perform half the activities due to their need of a prone position. I look at the fitness magazines that come in to my mailbox month after month and sigh at the physiques that used to look like a slightly better version of me. Now they're so far out of my ball park, a carrier pigeon couldn't reach them. Yes folks, fat girl depression has officially hit me. :(
Here's the evidence (I also included a front shot for the most offense)

BUT march forward we shall (mainly due to a lack of any other choice). I've discovered another thing about pregnancy that nobody seems to remember but haunts me on a daily basis. Side stitch-like pains. You know how you sometimes get side stitches when you're running a long distance? We were taught in gym class to "walk it out" and raise our arms above our heads or breathe deeply into the area while pushing it with our fingers. Yeah, well imagine that, minus the running. In fact, minus any modicum of activity. I lift up my butt in bed to turn over BAM! horrible stitch. I take the 7 steps out my door necessary to reach my mailbox BAM! stitch. I laugh too hard...you got it. Stitch. And they're MISERABLE. Residing somewhere between the lighting speed of a stitch's first hit to the lasting pain of a charlie horse.
Here's something else sexy for all of you still considering this nonsense. I discovered on Saturday that I now pee when I sneeze. SH took me to Starbucks for an iced tea and as we're pulling out of the parking lot on our way to what I believe will be a lovely day at the park - "AaaCHOOOO! *gasp* OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!" It was nice he didn't laugh but instead offered up a helpful suggestion "Check the glove box, I think there may be some napkins in there" then turned his head while I used them. This I was warned about but was sure it wouldn't come on until at LEAST month 8. I will be buying Poise pads at my next opportunity. Pregnant and an octogenarian, apparently. Awesome.
I'm really not experiencing anything that would ever make me say "Being pregnant was amazing" as I've heard so many women say. To me. On a daily basis. Everywhere. Not "having a baby come out after dealing with all that bullshit was amazing", no. The PREGNANCY was amazing. I'm just not sure why this is great. The belly rubs? The extra attention from strangers? I'm really not sure why anyone does this more than once. It's like that scary ass roller coaster your brother (thank you, A) talks you into at the amusement park. You're super super scared but he's calling you a pussy and he's 5 years younger than you, so what are you going to do? You muster every last ball in your arsenal, hop on try not to shit yourself all the way up the hill. Half way down that hill you fall somewhere between blacking out, complete hysteria and throwing up. When you finally get off the blasted machine, his little face is exuberant. "Wasn't that awesome??? I told you! Want to do it again???". You sit and stare at him for a moment wondering if you could kill him right there without your parents knowing. Then you punch him in the stomach and turn, feeling only slightly better as you head to go get yourself a funnel cake.

2/14/2011 - The Itchy and Scratchy Show

Happy Valentines Day, fools! Aw...look at all you out there. Getting to have normal person sex. Aren't you so lucky?! Enjoy it just a little bit more tonight, for me (please excuse me while I grab for yet another pillow to sleep with between my legs).
Well everyone, I'm experiencing a whole new...sensation...that nobody bothered to warn me about. Horrible, terrible, no good boob itch. That's right. Boob itch. Big time. Not only are they lumpy and hot as hell (wanna know what I did Saturday night? Iced my boobs down on the couch. All. Night. Long.), they also feel as if they've gotten a terrible case of scabies. I scratch and I scratch and I scratch. By the end I might just scratch them clean off! I scratch in private, definitely, in public, for sure! Bigger boobs are certainly NOT worth this trauma, I can assure you. But look as I may, NO pregnancy book or blog talks about itchy boobs! None. Pregnant ladies of yore, did you HONESTLY forget this? I just can't buy it. It is destined to haunt me for the rest of my days. Four more months of this bullshit? Heaven help me.
Oh! Exciting news! At my last doctor appointment I was put in the SAME room as before and had the presence of mind to take out my phone and snap a picture of the offending illustration. Here it is. Enjoy.

I mean HONESTLY! How sexual is that??? Look at those eye lashes! Her fingers nervously scratching in anticipation! This is ridiculous. I pointed it out to my doctor and she said "Yeah. Older male doctors, they're just sometimes...lacking a bit of sensitivity when it comes to women." I'll say!
Since I ended my last blog a little, well, angry, I'll end this one on a cute note. SH and I went to our favorite local sushi joint the other day (yes all, I'm eating sushi) and the chef was so jazzed about my pregnancy, he made us a special dessert

That is me and my pregnant belly...what is at my feet is anyone's guess. I just hope it isn't triplets.

2/2/2011 - SO Glamorous And the Pervert Escapades!

Sweet Husband makes breakfast for me every Sunday. No joke, it was in his vows. Most of the time I get to actually order up what I want and this past Sunday worked just as such. So while my adorable mate was busy cooking crepes and turkey sausage in the kitchen, I was reading the paper in bed surrounded by the cats. Ain't life grand?
After breakfast I wandered into the kitchen to take the first of many pills that I now pop during the day. SH was doing the breakfast dishes (I know, what?! LUCKY!) and I threw three multicolored pills in my mouth, followed by a swig of water. I should mention that after the whole first trimester barf-a-thon, my gag reflex is bit more...touchy...than normal, so once the pills hit the back of my throat (before I swallowed them) I felt a gag coming on. This isn't unusual. Almost every day this happens and I just swallow through it. Well two of the three pills went down and the third got caught in the gag. This pill was L-Carnitine and if you've never taken it, it's large. And white. And coated in almost nothing. So it got caught, and it stuck. Thankfully I usually take a breath in before I swallow pills so I had a little air behind it and I coughed. Only it lodged it much more fully than the first time. Now I was panicking. I was all out of air, I couldn't get any in due to the pills strategic placement and I began thinking about all I'd learned about administering the Heimlich on a pregnant woman. But how would I communicate this to SH, who had taken a break from the dishes to rush over to my red face? Thinking back, he did have a dish towel in his hand, though I'm not sure why he grabbed that when running to my side? Thankfully, my old friend the Puke Monster paid a return visit and brought up the water (not the other pills or breakfast thank GOD) I had just swallowed down with such great force that I barfed that pill up right on the counter and right in front of SH. There my face sat, inches from the saliva-y puddle of water coughing and gasping while SH was rubbing my back and saying (loudly) "GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" It was out. But he was a great cheerleader. I laid on the floor for a few minutes and cried for two reasons. One, I almost died and two, I just threw up in front of my husband. So glamorous, indeed!
Last little tidbit and then I must depart. If you've followed this blog for more than two posts, or know me personally, the fact that I will NEVER go to a male "lady doctor" shouldn't surprise you. Here's a story to bring this point fully home.
Last week when I went to the doctor due to that uncomfortable feeling, I was put in a different room than I normally am. As I was waiting, I was looking around the walls at the pictures, drawings and diplomas this specific doctor had lined his (HIS) walls with. Don't panic, I was seeing a woman, but using this dude's room, apparently. Anyhow, my eyes focused on a drawing of a lady frog. She didn't have any clothes on but she did have lipstick, rouge and fluttery eyelashes which is how I came to understand she was a lady. Anyway, she was in a room eerily similar to the one I was sitting in and she was laying on the table (that I was on) with a white blanket over her and her legs up in the stirrups (not me at all). The illustrator had made quite a point of her fluttery eyelashes, drawing in movement for extra effect. Her mouth was open and smiling flirtatiously and a bubble was drawn with the sentence "I'm READY Dr. Brooks!"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?! First of all *gag* WHO THE HELL DREW THAT? A friggin' PATIENT? A FEMALE patient? Second, what kind of big-headed HAND JOB does this guy think he is! "Oh, I'm Dr. Brooks and I'm so charming the ladies can't wait for me to get a hold of my speculum and ram it into their vaginas. I'm like a GOD!"
I've included this link to his picture. Do NOT be fooled by his grandfatherly looks. He's not one of us.
http://www.towerobgyn.com/page/ourdoctors.html
WHO finds this charming? What lady sits there waiting for this douche bag to enter thinking flirtatiously sinful thoughts?? I bet he doesn't wear gloves. I bet he kicks cats. I've made up a whole story about him in my head and all I can say is I feel terrible for his poor wife. I hope to god I never see this pervert in the hallways because I'm pretty sure I won't be able to control myself from smacking him right across the face. Asshole.

1/18/2011 - I KNOW...But I Might Forget

Before I begin this entry I would like to share the news that one day of sitting on my ass and merely walking the dog for exercise has either flipped my little baby's ass back the way it should be, or it died in there for the 3rd time now. The pain from being repeatedly kicked in the lady parts has gone away. Yahoo!!
Sweet Husband and I decided early on that we aren't going to find out the sex of the baby. We figure we started on this train completely blindsided by the element of surprise, we might as well finish it that way. But I know the sex. I don't know because I saw something on the ultrasound or the doctor said anything (she doesn't know yet either) I know because I KNOW. Remember the voice that told me I was pregnant? I figured once it started, I might as well ask it a few things. Like;
"Oh god, is it twins?"
"No" Whew, though I didn't quite believe it.
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
Voila! Answer!
Am I going to tell you? Of course not! You're just going to have to wait like the rest of us. But I can tell you, there is no way I'm wrong. I know it! Now, if I can just remember.
I used to say the word "preg-nesia" to my pregnant girlfriends all the time. They would forget where they put their shoes, what time they made dinner plans, etc. I thought it was just a cute little phrase everyone used, but honestly didn't think there was much merit to it. Well my dears, either preg-nesia is for real or Alzheimer's is setting in at a really early age. I can't remember shit. And it's not that kind of forgetting that just takes someone to say "Remember? You were wearing that red shirt and we were on the bus to San Pedro!" to jog the memory. It's hazy. You're not sure if it was a dream or real. Sometimes it feels like you drank WAY too much and are suffering from a black out. "Remember?? You told the guy you came with you go suck it and went home with that girl from Detroit! Right before you left you took a shot of Southern Comfort." You're blank. Then the shot of SoCo comes back to you and little by little you start remembering parts of the evening. THAT'S how it is. Except no boyfriend is sucking anything anywhere, you have never met a girl from Detroit and the night before was spent staring at yourself in the mirror to see if that tank top can still be worn with pride before going to bed at 8pm.
Case in point, I sent my sister-in-law an email yesterday asking about some baby stuff. She replied this morning in answer form, like we all do, and I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
"A kidoppotomus? What the hell does that mean?"
Furrowing my brow I read it again,
"I can have one? Have one WHAT!? What is she talking about??"
I then had to retrace my email steps to realize I had emailed to get her opinion about some swaddling thing for newborns. I don't even recall sending that email. What time was it? What was I doing? Where was I? The whole memory is gone. I forgot my PIN the other day and I've had that same number for 14 years!
I'm sure Sweet Husband will find a way to exploit this in a particularly vulgar way (hey, he needs to get his laughs in too, it hasn't been pretty around here), but I'm warning you all out there! Don't be all sensitive if I forget your name/birthday (I never remember those anyway) or something we did recently. I can't help it. I'm suffering from...
What's that word again?

1/26/2011 - Well, Whaddya Know...

I've been stuck in jury duty for the past WEEK now and just got released yesterday. Praise Jesus! All that sitting around made me absolutely crazy, especially since I did not teach ONE of my 9 classes during the trial, so by the time I was let out I was a little...let's say...ambitious. I taught a kickboxing class on Monday night and went WAAAAY crazy. Big jumps, high kicks, high impact, the whole nine. After class I got home and realized my stomach (this was not at all my stomach but the exact region is somewhat hard to explain. It was in my gut, just above my pubic bone. That's right, I said pubic. Get over it people, we're all adults here and it's about to get a whole lot worse) hurt a bit. Not like hurt hurt, but felt really uncomfortable. Like someone had wrung it out. Sweet Husband chastised me, as usual, for going too big in class and encouraged me, for the 23rd time I believe, to just give up my kickboxing classes all together. Silly SH.
I went to bed Monday night and Tuesday woke up bright and early for another exciting day at court. Upon waking I noticed the feeling had not gone away, but gotten worse. Surely it's constipation, I thought. Then I visited the bathroom. Nope. *sigh* Now what? All day Tuesday the sensation remained and continued to get worse. By the time I went to bed Tuesday night I was sure I had somehow developed a very painful kink in my intestines and I would require major surgery. I was woken up around 3 am and stayed awake (after my 3 am pee, mind you) for over an hour convinced I would be giving birth to my 2 pound dead fetus at any moment. Good thing Captain Tuffy was sleeping nearby to assist in the process. Cats are notoriously good at labor and delivery (for themselves but let's not focus on details here). When I woke up Wednesday morning I walked to the gym where I proceeded to teach 2 hours of classes, both fairly low impact. During those classes, I felt fabulous. Cured! After, I realized the sensation was still there. Bummer. I called my doctor to hear her say "Oh! Yeah, that's *blank* and right around week 18 is when you'll experience that. No big deal, you're fine. See you in a few weeks!" But instead her nurse said "Oh. Yeah. You should come in. Today." Nuts.
So in I went. My doctor wasn't available to I went to the next available FEMALE doctor (I don't think this requires any more explaining on my part) who assured me it was probably some ligament pull/tear from jumping too much.
"Let's just take a look at the ultrasound to be sure." Goo on the stomach, machine fired up and away we go.
"Wow!! Your baby is a MOVER!"
"Yeah, people say that. I'm not sure if they're just supposed to be hanging out in there chillin', but I figure the more movement the more calor--"
"Oh. Uh oh."
"What, uh oh?" I said from my supine position, craning my neck so that my face was as far away from the monitor as possible lest I see a penis or labia.
"Well, a few things. Looks like all that jumping around you've been doing has placed your baby into breech position. And the placenta is in front, which we don't want."
Now, I like to consider myself a fairly calm pregnant woman. I mean, sure I thought my baby was dead a few weeks ago, but did I go racing into the doctor's office? No. Last night I thought the baby was coming out but did I wake up SH or call 911? No. So I said,
"Well, that's okay, right? I mean, it's got plenty of time to flip itself around. It's only January!"
She looked at me for a long time trying to decide if I was making a joke or being flippant. When she gave up she said,
"Um. Well, you do have a while but the position of the placenta (see? I told you the words got worse) is not what we want to see at 4 1/2 months, nor is the position of the baby. And all the movement that's going on with the baby--see, look"
I saw two legs scrunched up against a little tiny body. One of the legs seemed to be keeping time to my heart beat and was kicking straight down into a grey mass.
"That's your cervix the baby is kicking. That's why you're feeling the discomfort. Does it feel like when you get a pap smear (Super gross! I thought of omitting this but my male followers are limited)?"
"Yeah, exactly like that!"
"Well, that's what it is. It's hammering your cervix. And until it flips the other way, there's nothing we can do about it. It's good the baby is so active! In the meantime, you need to ease up on the kickboxing and take a few days to rest. Next time you come in let's hope it's flipped back around."
Now, here is what I'm thinking. What if it DOESN'T!? I mean, sure, I can get over the initial shock of having to go through a C-section (that way SH certainly CAN be in the room! How happy he will be!), but if it hurts now and the things leg is the size of a toothpick, how in the HELL is this going to feel in 4 more months???? Oh man.
Well, I sure am glad I enjoyed those few weeks of silence because this little fetus is loud and proud now.
*sigh*
5 months and counting.
Oh, here's a picture for everyone. I appreciate the request for jug pictures. Those will be coming soon. Promise.

1/13/2011 - The Road To Hell...

Hiya folks! Here I am, fat as ever! Just in case you aren't quite sure what hell is, allow me to explain. Hell is when you work out 10 hours a week, eat right and sleep tight and your stomach and hips just keep getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Breathe in, breathe out.

I'm in a bit of a mood today so if you're feeling sensitive you might want to take this moment to stop reading and go fuck off. Still with me? Kay.
Even though I talk about it, let me tell you it is NOT okay for casual acquaintances to talk about my weight. Ever. Think of it as you saying "God, my mom is such a bitch" and then having an acquaintance say "How's your bitchy mom?". So not the same. Look, I get it. I teach exercise classes, my body is on display every week all week. Members have always felt some sort of freedom talking about my body, but things are happening to me that I can not control and it is not due to diet or exercise, laziness or excuses so shut your fat mouths!  DO NOT ask me how much weight I've gained as if it's any of your goddamn business, do not tell me that I look as though I've eaten too much lately and then turn to laugh with others and do not jokingly begin referring to me as "Bigger Mama" when you have always referred to me as "Lil' Mama". None of this is funny and none of this will be tolerated. Especially if you catch me on an "off" day like today, you might not be so lucky as to just get a sigh and an eye roll. You might get a slap in the mouth like you deserve.
Now, on to my title rant. Here's what I love (that is sarcastic). Women who have had children LOVE to corner the newly married, childless women and begin chatting up the merits of motherhood.
"When are you having a baby?? Babies are so amazing!"
"Why aren't you pregnant yet? You've been married a month!"
"You HAVE to have children. It's the most wonderful and rewarding thing you'll ever do."
"No woman is complete without a baby. They just bring such joy, you have no idea."
Then you actually do get pregnant (not due to anything they have said, mind you) and these same baby-loving women now show their true colors.
"Oh!! You and your husband have Martini Sunday where you mix cocktails and enjoy each others company? Bwah!! Say good bye to that!"
"Enjoy your trip to Hawaii, it'll be the last trip you take for the next 18 years!"
"You sleep 8 hours a night? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I haven't slept more than 4 hours in the last 16 years!"
"Oh, you live in a quiet house? Not for long!"
"You'll learn to stop buying expensive clothes once you realize how much babies throw up!"
And they get such great joy from saying these things. Where were these cynical bitches months ago? Gone are the "joys of motherhood" stories and in march the horror stories.
It's way beyond annoying.
So listen up world outside of my 7 followers! Stop with the body comments and stop with the motherhood-sucks-but-look-I'm-Jesus-on-my-self-made-crucifix tales BUT feel free to continue staring at my huge jugs. I'm about to say goodbye to my A-cups and introduce myself to the B world. Perhaps this is merely purgatory...

1/7/2011 - Hello In There

Hello all! Happy New Year! I am happy to report my sister in law has successfully delivered her baby and at record speed no less! Excellent role modeling! Welcome to the world Leilani!
While in Hawaii I had convinced myself that, somehow, I had killed my fetus. Or that maybe it just died on its own, I guess I didn't have to play a starring role in it's demise. But, it was dead none-the-less. Why, you ask? One morning I woke up and my morning sickness was gone. GONE. Like THAT. No throwing up, no nausea (except when thinking about consuming chicken/spinach/kalamata olives), nothing. I felt great. I also felt absolutely nothing in my swollen gut. Well, except gas but that's hardly the point. I digress. The dead fetus. So I asked my sister-in-law, who is a nurse, if my fetus could just die and then sit in there and rot. Apparently not, but I think there's a first time for everything. Well, I went in for my scheduled appointment yesterday (notice the death of the little bugger didn't get me to hustle in any earlier) and told my doctor it was dead. She laughed (bless her) and said "I take it the morning sickness has stopped". Just when I thought she couldn't get any more rad. "Uh, yeah" "It's the next logical step to take. I feel sick. I feel fine. I feel nothing. Baby is dead. But it isn't, I assure you." Prove it! So she got that little thingamajig that looks like a small, boring version of the Fisher-Price radio with microphone and jabbed it into my stomach in search of a heart beat. Nothing. I'm telling you, she looked worried for a minute. "Have you had any cramping?" "Nope." I said, lifting my hands to rest behind my head and sitting back with the smug satisfaction that I was about to blow her mind. She furrowed her brows and dug in harder "Ouch!" Thud-thud Thud-thud Thud-thud. There it was. She smiled. Damn it! Is it evil to be mad about being wrong here?
15 weeks, 4 days. Still alive, though I'm not sure how. Total weight gain for all who are feverishly tabulating (and there certainly are a few of you), 3#. 125 and growing, oh man am I.
I've totally busted open this notion of a "glowing" pregnant woman. Some of you sadists actually say "I never felt better than when I was pregnant!" or "I wish I could be pregnant all the time!" For those of you who have never been pregnant let me tell you that either these people are LYING, love the hell out of an excuse to sit on their asses and eat all day long OR they've never EVER taken any sort of recreational drugs. I have certainly felt better than this. on some of my worst non-pregnant days. The first 3 1/2 months are awful, as you recall. Feeling hungover and sick every day. Exhausted beyond belief. Food makes you want to die. Then you get past it and you feel...normal. Back to how you felt before this whole thing started. You wake up and think about your day FIRST instead of how fast you can make it to the toilet (kitchen sink). You start making plans with friends that start (not end) at 8pm without having to take a barf bag in your purse. Then you start comparing it to how you felt. You decide you now feel AMAZING. When in fact what you feel is BACK TO NORMAL. So you tell everyone how great you feel, and since you're full of zest and smiles, people tell you that you're glowing. But really, you're just happy to have your face out of the toilet (kitchen sink) for more than an hour.
So you see, the I've-never-felt-better's or the You-are-positively-GLOWING's are just a reaction of you feeling like you again.
I've done cracked the case, people!
My big boobs and I are signing off.