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.