Showing posts with label body. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body. Show all posts
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Post Partum TRUTH
It's time for a little dose of the TRUTH. It has been roughly seven months since I popped out a creature the size of a small watermelon. I'm not exaggerating - she was about eight and a half pounds, and the last watermelon I bought was just over eight pounds.
That alone will destroy your body, let me tell you. I won't get into details because I think male members of my family read this and details will be awkward, not to mention details about that would be overshare in general even for me. But I will tell you this. You know how they say "it's what's on the inside that counts"? And you know how they say having kids changes everything? Well, you'll never be the same again. Ever. (Okay so it's only been seven months so that's not "forever" but I'm pretty sure this is permanent.) And no, exercises are not the cure.
But although that was the biggest shocker and most disturbing thing I have found so far, there's a lot of other stuff they mislead you about or leave out or gloss over. For example, before I became an incubator, I had the general self image that I looked better naked than with clothes on - unfortunate since I'm not a stripper or adult film star. Not that I had the body of a stripper or adult film star or anything like that. (Okay reign it in, Lauren.) But I had proportions that made clothes fit less-than-perfectly, which made me feel awkward, which made me sit and stand awkwardly, which then made my already less-than-perfect proportions even less perfect looking. The absence of clothes sort of helped, in my opinion, because there wasn't fabric pushing and pulling and squeezing and mushing in all the wrong areas. But now, clothing allows me to conceal that abhorrent sack of skin attached to the front of me that refuses to retract, despite the lack of enlarged uterus and growing creature that made the exponential multiplication of skin surface area necessary. Clothing also allows me to mask my enlarged buttocks beneath tent-like "A-line" dresses and "flowy and tunic-like" tops. Clothing allows me to prop up my deflated, flattened, and sad bosom.
Okay, you say, but everyone complains about that stuff. Yes, true. And they also tell you that a couple of months after you give birth or stop breastfeeding, or whenever (I stopped reading the WTE newsletter when it kept telling me that all my complaints were "normal" like that helps or something), you will begin to lose a lot of your hair. They tell you all sorts of scientific reasons and tell you that it may be alarming, and of course that it is normal. But then you start to literally see bald spots. And you find yourself sweeping up a wigful of hair twice a day (or if you're lazy like me you just notice a wigful of hair on the bathroom floor and try not to step on it with wet feet). You find that you are shedding more hair than your cat and you notice how very white your scalp is when it is bald. And if you're like me, and you had a lot of thick - too thick - hair your whole life, you start to panic even though you know it's "normal." You may read on websites that taking prenatal vitamins will help (it doesn't). You may find out that you should wash your hair with oatmeal (don't). You may ask your doctor and get a condescending smile. And just when you're starting to give Rogaine serious consideration...nope it's still falling out. (You thought I was going to say don't worry, it gets better.) But then you see little baby hairs coming in. And in a moment of irony you think, aw cute I'm growing hair just like [insert your baby's name here]. So even though your hair is falling out at an alarming rate, you can see that the condescending smile from the doctor was warranted (still annoying though). And you have a new hair style that accommodates patches of short hair spiking out randomly.
One more ugly truth - you may notice that your skin is less elastic and just generally looks older. Although, if you're a younger mom than me you might be able to confirm my suspicion that this skin issue is not related to pregnancy and is actually related to the fact that I'm pushing 30 (and contrary to popular perception I did have bouts of sun-binging in my past life so there is probably some sun damage factoring in here). The unfair part about it though, regardless of whether that's a post-partum thing or an age thing, is that your hormones are still in flux (I just learned today they will be in flux for 2-3 years from the birth of your child - hooray for partners who have to weather that long-ass storm). Therefore you are prone to breakouts. But the most jacked up part of all of that is that you won't just have breakouts on your T-zone like in high school. Not even just your T-zone plus backne. If you're like me, you'll get pimples on your legs or earlobes - I even had one on my forearm. Gross.
But you know that silly thing they say about your baby being worth it all? It's totally true. If your kid is as cool as mine (doubtful, but hopefully for you he or she will be a close second), you'll look at him or her and totally forget the insanely itchy skin during your pregnancy or the debilitating acid reflux (that you may still suffer from occasionally). You will not remember the elephant cankles you had, or the inability to stand more than ten minutes for fear of your hips collapsing. And by the time your baby is seven months of age, you may struggle to recall what a floppy newborn feels like in your arms. And beware because this is nature's trick! This amnesia is built into our minds and bodies the same way hunger and a fear of large toothy animals is. This amnesia is the only reason our species has survived. Because if the first cavewomen remembered how awful pregnancy was and how difficult the first few months of motherhood can be, they would not have had more than one child each. And then those first-borns would have been eaten by large toothy animals, and we would not be here. Instead, we forget all the awful stuff, we look at our child and think he or she is the greatest ever (too bad we all know mine is the greatest ever), and we think, "Wow, that wasn't so bad."
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
TRUTH (You thought I forgot, didn't you?)
So now that it's almost three (three?!) months since I gave birth, I think it's time to revisit that ugly thing called TRUTH - more specifically, the truth about POST-pregnancy. Be forewarned - this can get gross.
The "lochia" bleeding they tell you about is nothing like a period. It's like an ellipsis. (For those unfamiliar, that's the dot-dot-dot.) An ellipsis in font size 48. Luckily at the hospital they give you these enormous pads that make Depends look like Poise panty-liners, and if you get the heads-up (this is your heads-up) you can be sneaky and put four more in your overnight bag every time you change the one you're wearing so you can keep telling the nurse you need more, and then when you go home, you'll have all the extra you need. You'll need lots of extra.
Here's one good thing, though. As soon as you check in when you're in labor, they make you change out of your clothes (wait, the good part is coming) and they give you these disposable panties. "Uh, where's the good part?" you ask. That is the good part. These disposable panties are SO comfortable you wonder WHY someone doesn't market them and sell them at Walgreens. The nurse hands them to you and you look at her like, "What is that?" But they are the most perfect combination of tight enough to hold that ginormous pad in place and stretchy enough that there is NO binding or creasing. It's like a hug for your bottom from your fat aunt - perfectly firm yet squishy. These too, you can stock up on if you strategerize, since they're supposed to be disposable.
But I'm just getting started.
When they say you won't sleep because of the feedings and the diapers and the blahblahblah, you can't quite wrap your mind around that fact until you're a week in and you feel like you just might die (and then you think, "Well at least I'll be asleep then..."). They don't tell you that feeding her every two or three hours means: 6AM wake up, change diaper, start feed. Feed till 6:20 maybe, if your baby suckles frantically as if you never feed her. Rock until 6:45AM, baby is FAST asleep, mouth agape, limbs limp. 6:45 and 35 seconds, put baby into cradle, mouth agape, limbs limp. 6:46AM fall into bed exhausted, but unable to fall asleep instantly because there is so much racing through your mind (SleepNowBeforeSheWakesUp-Laundry-ShouldIShowerNow-GottaShaveMyLegs-SleepNowDammit-OhCrapDidIFeedTheCatThisWeek-SeriouslySleepRightNOW-OhYeahI'mKindaHungry-NahIt'sOkay-GoToSleep!). 6:48AM baby startles awake - rock again until 7:06AM and think about the fact that two months ago you thought waking up for work was tough. 7:07AM gingerly put baby back in her cradle and force yourself to lie down with your eyes closed even if you can't sleep, and then end up sleeping. Until 8AM when you wake up to do it all over again. And even then, you're excited that you got almost a full hour of sleep.
It gets better, and it gets better pretty fast actually. But at the time you really do think to yourself, "What was I thinking?" And then you think that you are a terrible person and the worst Mommy ever just for thinking that, as if feeling overwhelmed and desperate automatically means you also feel regret (it doesn't). As if feeling a tiny bit of regret means you would take it back (it doesn't, and regret isn't the right word for it anyway). You also find yourself really angry at all the people who told you that "EVERYTHING changes" as if they were supposed to expound on that fact to make you truly comprehend what that means. There is no way to describe how every moment of every day for the rest of your life is now completely changed forever - not just your responsibilities, but also your perspective, your priorities, your freedom (and your perspective on what freedom means), your friends, your interests. Sure, you're going to mostly have the same friends and interests - but somehow everything is just different. Some things will be much more interesting than you ever thought possible (to me it was poop, for example) and other things will just seem boring (like my old hobby - drinking). For me, anyway, that "different" feeling was shocking and terrifying. If you're anything like me, you might feel a little grief for the life you didn't even realize you were saying goodbye to - and if you're like me, you may mistake this grief for a feeling of regret or a feeling that you want that old life back instead, and then feel an immense and intense feeling of guilt for that. But mourning your "old life" does not mean you want a do-over - it's just that such a significant change can be hard to adjust to no matter how mentally prepared you thought you were - especially when you're getting no sleep.
So, throughout pregnancy you're thinking, "Oh God I'm this hulking monstrous waddling flesh-ball, I can't wait to be normal-sized again." And people tell you that you won't shrink back to prepregnancy size magically. And you can accept that. But what they don't tell you is that you deflate like a balloon, slowly and lopsidedly (and sometimes just as noisily...) but you have been stretched beyond imagination in so many places and unless you're 14 your skin is not as elastic as a balloon. If you are fortunate enough to have a Sugar-Nazi for an ob/gyn like I was, and if you breastfeed even just for a couple weeks, your belly will mostly deflate pretty quickly. But you'll be left with gross skin that seems darker than before (not tan, just darker) and also wrinkled and saggy like an old elephant's butt. You'll be glad to see your ankles do in fact still have bones, as do your feet, but then you'll realize your thighs look still-pregnant when contrasted above thin-again ankles even when separated by knees and calves. That linea negra that could have been called a badge of honor now just looks gross and uneven. And if you breastfeed, then ten seconds after you stop breastfeeding (if you're lucky this will be MUCH later when all these other things have probably resolved themselves) your boobs will NOT return to pre-pregnancy size and shape. They will be decidedly lower, flatter, and sadder. Your butt will shrink but not back to its cute round self - it will just deflate and become that flat but wide "mom-butt."
You may also find yourself wanting to spit in the face of anyone who tries to say the K-word (K...egel) around you.
There's more, but I think that's a decent dose of truth, at least for now. But you know what. This is cliche, but, it's all worth it. When you look at your baby sleeping (you always love them most when they're sleeping) and you take the time to notice little things like how her toes wiggle almost constantly even in her sleep, and you stop and think about the fact that very, very soon, she will be a little person with opinions, questions, hopes and fears, you know that even if each day is a challenge it is a challenge you want to cherish and relish and remember.
And that is the most important truth of all.
The "lochia" bleeding they tell you about is nothing like a period. It's like an ellipsis. (For those unfamiliar, that's the dot-dot-dot.) An ellipsis in font size 48. Luckily at the hospital they give you these enormous pads that make Depends look like Poise panty-liners, and if you get the heads-up (this is your heads-up) you can be sneaky and put four more in your overnight bag every time you change the one you're wearing so you can keep telling the nurse you need more, and then when you go home, you'll have all the extra you need. You'll need lots of extra.
Here's one good thing, though. As soon as you check in when you're in labor, they make you change out of your clothes (wait, the good part is coming) and they give you these disposable panties. "Uh, where's the good part?" you ask. That is the good part. These disposable panties are SO comfortable you wonder WHY someone doesn't market them and sell them at Walgreens. The nurse hands them to you and you look at her like, "What is that?" But they are the most perfect combination of tight enough to hold that ginormous pad in place and stretchy enough that there is NO binding or creasing. It's like a hug for your bottom from your fat aunt - perfectly firm yet squishy. These too, you can stock up on if you strategerize, since they're supposed to be disposable.
But I'm just getting started.
When they say you won't sleep because of the feedings and the diapers and the blahblahblah, you can't quite wrap your mind around that fact until you're a week in and you feel like you just might die (and then you think, "Well at least I'll be asleep then..."). They don't tell you that feeding her every two or three hours means: 6AM wake up, change diaper, start feed. Feed till 6:20 maybe, if your baby suckles frantically as if you never feed her. Rock until 6:45AM, baby is FAST asleep, mouth agape, limbs limp. 6:45 and 35 seconds, put baby into cradle, mouth agape, limbs limp. 6:46AM fall into bed exhausted, but unable to fall asleep instantly because there is so much racing through your mind (SleepNowBeforeSheWakesUp-Laundry-ShouldIShowerNow-GottaShaveMyLegs-SleepNowDammit-OhCrapDidIFeedTheCatThisWeek-SeriouslySleepRightNOW-OhYeahI'mKindaHungry-NahIt'sOkay-GoToSleep!). 6:48AM baby startles awake - rock again until 7:06AM and think about the fact that two months ago you thought waking up for work was tough. 7:07AM gingerly put baby back in her cradle and force yourself to lie down with your eyes closed even if you can't sleep, and then end up sleeping. Until 8AM when you wake up to do it all over again. And even then, you're excited that you got almost a full hour of sleep.
It gets better, and it gets better pretty fast actually. But at the time you really do think to yourself, "What was I thinking?" And then you think that you are a terrible person and the worst Mommy ever just for thinking that, as if feeling overwhelmed and desperate automatically means you also feel regret (it doesn't). As if feeling a tiny bit of regret means you would take it back (it doesn't, and regret isn't the right word for it anyway). You also find yourself really angry at all the people who told you that "EVERYTHING changes" as if they were supposed to expound on that fact to make you truly comprehend what that means. There is no way to describe how every moment of every day for the rest of your life is now completely changed forever - not just your responsibilities, but also your perspective, your priorities, your freedom (and your perspective on what freedom means), your friends, your interests. Sure, you're going to mostly have the same friends and interests - but somehow everything is just different. Some things will be much more interesting than you ever thought possible (to me it was poop, for example) and other things will just seem boring (like my old hobby - drinking). For me, anyway, that "different" feeling was shocking and terrifying. If you're anything like me, you might feel a little grief for the life you didn't even realize you were saying goodbye to - and if you're like me, you may mistake this grief for a feeling of regret or a feeling that you want that old life back instead, and then feel an immense and intense feeling of guilt for that. But mourning your "old life" does not mean you want a do-over - it's just that such a significant change can be hard to adjust to no matter how mentally prepared you thought you were - especially when you're getting no sleep.
So, throughout pregnancy you're thinking, "Oh God I'm this hulking monstrous waddling flesh-ball, I can't wait to be normal-sized again." And people tell you that you won't shrink back to prepregnancy size magically. And you can accept that. But what they don't tell you is that you deflate like a balloon, slowly and lopsidedly (and sometimes just as noisily...) but you have been stretched beyond imagination in so many places and unless you're 14 your skin is not as elastic as a balloon. If you are fortunate enough to have a Sugar-Nazi for an ob/gyn like I was, and if you breastfeed even just for a couple weeks, your belly will mostly deflate pretty quickly. But you'll be left with gross skin that seems darker than before (not tan, just darker) and also wrinkled and saggy like an old elephant's butt. You'll be glad to see your ankles do in fact still have bones, as do your feet, but then you'll realize your thighs look still-pregnant when contrasted above thin-again ankles even when separated by knees and calves. That linea negra that could have been called a badge of honor now just looks gross and uneven. And if you breastfeed, then ten seconds after you stop breastfeeding (if you're lucky this will be MUCH later when all these other things have probably resolved themselves) your boobs will NOT return to pre-pregnancy size and shape. They will be decidedly lower, flatter, and sadder. Your butt will shrink but not back to its cute round self - it will just deflate and become that flat but wide "mom-butt."
You may also find yourself wanting to spit in the face of anyone who tries to say the K-word (K...egel) around you.
There's more, but I think that's a decent dose of truth, at least for now. But you know what. This is cliche, but, it's all worth it. When you look at your baby sleeping (you always love them most when they're sleeping) and you take the time to notice little things like how her toes wiggle almost constantly even in her sleep, and you stop and think about the fact that very, very soon, she will be a little person with opinions, questions, hopes and fears, you know that even if each day is a challenge it is a challenge you want to cherish and relish and remember.
And that is the most important truth of all.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A lot to catch up on!
Quick notes:
I have become somewhat of a pro at sleeping sitting up, and my spot on the couch makes for a great nap spot. Isabella seems to have her own favorite positions for various times of day, and as she runs out of room in there, I'm more and more confident I can tell the difference between her feet and knees and elbows wiggling around in there. She still finds room for little punches and sort of really strong kicks.
Braxton-Hicks contractions have become so common for me now that I don't get excited or even try to time them to make sure they're not real labor. I even considered suggesting the name Braxton to Alex when we were trying to find our just-in-case boy name. But I do feel Isabella descending - maybe. If it's possible to simultaneously descend and not turn - she seems to still be more or less transverse rather than coming around to head-down. I didn't think this was possible but my belly button has poked out even further. I'm pretty sure if I don't give birth soon my belly will just rip open from being stretched so much.
People keep asking how I'm feeling - nervous, excited, anxious... To be honest, after our classes, I'm not nervous at all about the labor experience. I'm beyond excited to meet our baby; it's an incredible feeling to know there's a baby in there and it's coming soon and she's going to be a person with all that goes with personhood. I'm not really nervous about taking care of her after - not that I think I'll know everything or that I won't have questions or self-doubt about things or that I won't have days that I'm going, "I don't know what else to DO!" But I'm not nervous about those obstacles - everyone has them, I have Alex and we have my mom and my stepdad ready to help at a moment's notice (and really, a huge support system from afar including Alex's mom, my dad and stepmom, my grandma, my Uncle Bill, all our friends). I'm not nervous at all about how the relationship between me and Alex will change - everyone talks about how much a baby changes things. I feel so confident in our relationship, our love, our friendship that I know it will only bring us even closer together and add another rich dimension to our life together.
What I am nervous about is the physical things that happen after birth. I've spent the past however many weeks and months in discomfort at varying levels for various reasons - the swelling, the reflux, the pelvic aching and popping (which is getting even worse of course, as my body makes way), on and on - and wishing for The Big Day to just get here, that I didn't even bother to learn what happens to me, my body, right after. I was nervous about how I'd look - I didn't think about how I'd feel. Apparently it's not all fun and games either. The inversion of the uterus is supposedly totally uncomfortable. You apparently bleed like a period for up to SIX weeks - pads only, no tampons! The list is long.
Alex told me last night, "No matter what, it won't be as bad as you're feeling now." I told him, "That's the thing! What if it is?! This whole time I've been saying, this sucks I just want to have her already. What if we have her and my body is so uncooperative that I end up saying, 'THIS sucks too!!' There's NO way to know."
I suppose that's the scariest part of pregnancy, postpartum and parenting in general though, right? It's not so much the things you know are going to be tough, like labor pains or sleepless nights. It's the stuff you don't even know that you don't know. The big black hole of what ifs, what nows, and what do I dos. Man, I hope she's an easy kid...
- Sixteen days till the due date! Arrival predictions from friends: Christina - April 8, Mrs. O - April 15 (grrr), JD - April 13. We are still accepting predictions. :)
- We picked a pediatrician!
- We picked a just-in-case boy's name! (Ethan Alexander - and dibs on this name for the future if we don't use it for this baby!)
- Other than a few little items (that we're getting today), we packed our hospital bag!
- We wrote our In Case of Emergency contact cards for the door and fridge!
- We wrote our "Birth Wish" (the more realistic name for a "Birth Plan")
- We finished both our Infant Care class series and Prepared Childbirth class series - both totally worth the time and money, and we had the best instructor - Therese was awesome!
I have become somewhat of a pro at sleeping sitting up, and my spot on the couch makes for a great nap spot. Isabella seems to have her own favorite positions for various times of day, and as she runs out of room in there, I'm more and more confident I can tell the difference between her feet and knees and elbows wiggling around in there. She still finds room for little punches and sort of really strong kicks.
Braxton-Hicks contractions have become so common for me now that I don't get excited or even try to time them to make sure they're not real labor. I even considered suggesting the name Braxton to Alex when we were trying to find our just-in-case boy name. But I do feel Isabella descending - maybe. If it's possible to simultaneously descend and not turn - she seems to still be more or less transverse rather than coming around to head-down. I didn't think this was possible but my belly button has poked out even further. I'm pretty sure if I don't give birth soon my belly will just rip open from being stretched so much.
People keep asking how I'm feeling - nervous, excited, anxious... To be honest, after our classes, I'm not nervous at all about the labor experience. I'm beyond excited to meet our baby; it's an incredible feeling to know there's a baby in there and it's coming soon and she's going to be a person with all that goes with personhood. I'm not really nervous about taking care of her after - not that I think I'll know everything or that I won't have questions or self-doubt about things or that I won't have days that I'm going, "I don't know what else to DO!" But I'm not nervous about those obstacles - everyone has them, I have Alex and we have my mom and my stepdad ready to help at a moment's notice (and really, a huge support system from afar including Alex's mom, my dad and stepmom, my grandma, my Uncle Bill, all our friends). I'm not nervous at all about how the relationship between me and Alex will change - everyone talks about how much a baby changes things. I feel so confident in our relationship, our love, our friendship that I know it will only bring us even closer together and add another rich dimension to our life together.
What I am nervous about is the physical things that happen after birth. I've spent the past however many weeks and months in discomfort at varying levels for various reasons - the swelling, the reflux, the pelvic aching and popping (which is getting even worse of course, as my body makes way), on and on - and wishing for The Big Day to just get here, that I didn't even bother to learn what happens to me, my body, right after. I was nervous about how I'd look - I didn't think about how I'd feel. Apparently it's not all fun and games either. The inversion of the uterus is supposedly totally uncomfortable. You apparently bleed like a period for up to SIX weeks - pads only, no tampons! The list is long.
Alex told me last night, "No matter what, it won't be as bad as you're feeling now." I told him, "That's the thing! What if it is?! This whole time I've been saying, this sucks I just want to have her already. What if we have her and my body is so uncooperative that I end up saying, 'THIS sucks too!!' There's NO way to know."
I suppose that's the scariest part of pregnancy, postpartum and parenting in general though, right? It's not so much the things you know are going to be tough, like labor pains or sleepless nights. It's the stuff you don't even know that you don't know. The big black hole of what ifs, what nows, and what do I dos. Man, I hope she's an easy kid...
Friday, March 18, 2011
Elephant ankles - BEYOND cankles...
Some days, it's hard to walk...this is so gross. And it feels like my skin is about to burst open. It will be nice to be able to wear shoes again - I recently went to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse wearing slippers because that's all that will even remotely contain these sausages. *sigh*
And yes, those are compression stockings I'm wearing. They help, somewhat, but see those folds? After a couple hours those areas feel like if you wrap a rubberband or string around your little finger and let it turn blue. And since the stockings are toe-less so that I can wear slippers, even if my feet and ankles have minimal swelling, my toes look like giant pigs-in-a-blanket. Which makes them look even funnier when I take off the stockings. TRUTH.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
30 Days! More hopes and fears...
We are 30 days away from our due date! This is so exciting! I was talking to Kat last night and telling her how I just want to meet our baby already! I can't stand waiting at this point. (And not just because my belly now rests on my lap when I sit upright in a chair...) We want to see what she looks like, hear her voice, smell her (after they've wiped her down at least...), and just HOLD her!
I'm getting a little anxious about labor and the first few days, but not really. What I'm anxious about, more, is a little vain, actually. I am totally convinced that I am going to need a tummy tuck after this child-bearing business is all finished. Everyone in person keeps telling me, "Nahhh you haven't actually gained that much weight - your belly is big but the rest of you is the same," and "Don't worry I bet you'll be one of those people that just loses all the weight fast." Alex keeps telling me not to worry and I'll be back to prepregnancy size in no time. But trust me, the way my clothes fit, I can tell it's not just my belly that has expanded (and even if it was - all that skin!). I mean, I admit, I'm lucky that our doctor is a crazed psycho that monitors my diet and weight way more than anyone has ever heard of, because it's true that I haven't gained a TON of weight. But my butt and thighs are definitely more uh, sturdy..and my arms and back are notably fleshier (back fat is the WORST!). And (okay brace yourself or skip ahead because this part is totally gross) there's this band of flesh just under my belly and above my pubic area like where the waistband of normal people's low-rider jeans would go, that is like spongy and soft and totally pinch-able and it is NOT part of the hard, uterine, pregnancy belly. It is pure unadulterated FAT. And if everyone is really expecting that I'll just shrink back, oh God the pressure...
But I digress. Talking to Kat last night, I was telling her that okay, I have this really unavoidable pregnant belly that is 110% impossible to forget, but sometimes I still don't feel like all this is real. Like, I'm going to be a Mom. Alex is going to be a Dad. We're going to have a real, live, human baby in like less than a month. We're going to be parents FOREVER. This baby will grow up into a person. I look at my friends' kids that I've watched grow maybe over the past five or six years and I just can't imagine what our lives will look like in five or six years. I mean, really, every time I take a moment to think back even ONE year (no matter what time of year it is, not just on occasions), I realize I NEVER would have imagined that in just a year my life would look like this (whatever "this" is at the moment I have this periodic revelation). I can't even imagine what our day-to-day life will look like in two months, let alone a year. Life is amazing if you stop and let yourself get carried away with thinking about all this.
I fear what our society will look like in the future as Isabella grows up. Things were so much simpler when Alex and I were kids. I know that's true for every generation. I hope we can give her as much time to be a kid, be innocent, be carefree, as possible (without raising a totally clueless, spoiled brat of course). We really want to give her a childhood she can cherish and remember fondly. We were both lucky in that even though our parents may have had some harder times, and there were things we may have been aware of "before our time," we both had happy, healthy childhoods and in the end we always knew the security of unconditional love. In the end, that's all we really want for our daughter - health, happiness, security, and curiosity. The rest tends to take care of itself.
I'm getting a little anxious about labor and the first few days, but not really. What I'm anxious about, more, is a little vain, actually. I am totally convinced that I am going to need a tummy tuck after this child-bearing business is all finished. Everyone in person keeps telling me, "Nahhh you haven't actually gained that much weight - your belly is big but the rest of you is the same," and "Don't worry I bet you'll be one of those people that just loses all the weight fast." Alex keeps telling me not to worry and I'll be back to prepregnancy size in no time. But trust me, the way my clothes fit, I can tell it's not just my belly that has expanded (and even if it was - all that skin!). I mean, I admit, I'm lucky that our doctor is a crazed psycho that monitors my diet and weight way more than anyone has ever heard of, because it's true that I haven't gained a TON of weight. But my butt and thighs are definitely more uh, sturdy..and my arms and back are notably fleshier (back fat is the WORST!). And (okay brace yourself or skip ahead because this part is totally gross) there's this band of flesh just under my belly and above my pubic area like where the waistband of normal people's low-rider jeans would go, that is like spongy and soft and totally pinch-able and it is NOT part of the hard, uterine, pregnancy belly. It is pure unadulterated FAT. And if everyone is really expecting that I'll just shrink back, oh God the pressure...
But I digress. Talking to Kat last night, I was telling her that okay, I have this really unavoidable pregnant belly that is 110% impossible to forget, but sometimes I still don't feel like all this is real. Like, I'm going to be a Mom. Alex is going to be a Dad. We're going to have a real, live, human baby in like less than a month. We're going to be parents FOREVER. This baby will grow up into a person. I look at my friends' kids that I've watched grow maybe over the past five or six years and I just can't imagine what our lives will look like in five or six years. I mean, really, every time I take a moment to think back even ONE year (no matter what time of year it is, not just on occasions), I realize I NEVER would have imagined that in just a year my life would look like this (whatever "this" is at the moment I have this periodic revelation). I can't even imagine what our day-to-day life will look like in two months, let alone a year. Life is amazing if you stop and let yourself get carried away with thinking about all this.
I fear what our society will look like in the future as Isabella grows up. Things were so much simpler when Alex and I were kids. I know that's true for every generation. I hope we can give her as much time to be a kid, be innocent, be carefree, as possible (without raising a totally clueless, spoiled brat of course). We really want to give her a childhood she can cherish and remember fondly. We were both lucky in that even though our parents may have had some harder times, and there were things we may have been aware of "before our time," we both had happy, healthy childhoods and in the end we always knew the security of unconditional love. In the end, that's all we really want for our daughter - health, happiness, security, and curiosity. The rest tends to take care of itself.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
I feel much better..even though I feel much worse..
Isabella's room is coming together nicely. Alex drilled the holes for two of the three wall hanging areas (we have concrete walls), so there's a pretty picture of a purple flower above the changing table. Also there's a super pretty wall hanging with her name that Jess and Grace made hanging above her crib. I made a photo cluster of zoo animals (literally, photos of animals at the zoo we took a couple months ago) in lavendar frames that will go on the opposite wall. Soon, Alex will hang hooks on the wall next to her closet for things like diaper bags (and later, whatever she wants to hang, like a towel, or whatever). We had one baby shower last week Sunday, for our friends, and it was really fun! We got so much stuff. Our friends sure are generous! I was a little overwhelmed when we brought the stuff home and put it in her room to be put away and organized. I let it sit there for a few days before I got up the energy to put things where they belong. Also washed all her clothes that we got that day and that we've received since people found out we were pregnant. She already has so many clothes! Oh dear.
Work has calmed down a lot which is lucky because my symptoms are getting more and more difficult to cope with. The heartburn is still an issue but it's one I get around by mostly never eating later than 3 or 4 or 5 pm. Actually 5 pm is even a little too late but sometimes I just can't help it. I can't even have milk or other liquid except water. And even that, I have to drink most of my water during the day. I have become an avid fan of chewing ice at night. Don't tell my dentist.
But now that I've sort of figured a (pain in the ass) way around the heartburn/reflux issue, more issues are popping up. My feet swell to nearly TWICE their normal size if I'm on my feet for any length of time, OR if I'm sitting for any length of time without them being 100% elevated. So basically, they're always enormous. I actually had to call in sick to work on Friday because they were so swollen, and my legs and even my knees were swollen, so much so that walking to the car (heck, even to the bathroom), standing in the shower, anything, was super painful and my knees kept buckling. Add to that my chest has been hurting and feeling really tight and pressured, and breathing has become a chore, and I'm pretty much over this whole pregnancy experience. Sleep is the opposite of restful and I actually dread the effort every night, even though I'm exhausted. And maybe this is TMI but my groin area is in constant pain. Sharp, shooting pains spark through that area any time I try to move - getting out of bed, even turning over from my left to right or right to left in bed, getting out of the car, standing up, walking. And sometimes when I'm just sitting here, there's a pain there that is a cross between sharp and shooting but also throbbing.
So I went to the doctor on Friday, and all the answers were basically non-answers. The swelling isn't dangerous by itself, but they're watching my protein levels and blood pressure because of it. I got compression stockings for the swelling which are so ugly (but not any more ugly than disgustingly swollen sausage feet and legs), and help. Today in our prepared childbirth class, I was wearing them, and my feet started to swell anyway, which only made it more sore, because it was like when you tie a rubber band around your finger and watch it turn purple. But mostly they do help prevent the swelling from being totally excruciating. The chest pain and breathing stuff seemed to stump the doctor - obviously some breathlessness is normal on account of a baby leaving little room for lung expansion. But they said my breath sounds and cardiac sounds were okay, and they didn't know why I'm feeling tightness and pressure. I am to wait and see if it persists. Or call again if it gets really really really bad. Finally, I was told the groinal pain is normal and will probably get worse, due to loosening of the pelvic bones and joints. Yeah. I don't care what's normal. I care that I can't move without feeling like I'm ripping something apart.. We have another appointment on Tuesday so they are going to check everything again.
But as I was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office, a woman who had just finished a post-partum check up came out, carrying her 6 week old son. So cute! So little! She sat in the waiting room after she was done because she wanted to feed him before he got fussy, and we ended up chatting. She told me that she completely hated her whole entire pregnancy experience. The whole time. 100%. She wanted to be that woman who is glowing and happy and appreciative of the miracle happening inside. But, she said, she had every bad symptom possible, and had it intensely. She said she was so over it that when her son was born she didn't even miss feeling him inside of her. She was just glad to be done. I feel so much less like an awful, negative person and bad mommy now! Like, yes! Someone out there also felt the whole time like it sucked! Well for me, it's not the whole time. I have good days (or, I did - it's been a while). And I still am fascinated by Isabella's movements and I know I will miss it. But other than that, there is nothing fun about this! And it's not just because I'm a wuss!
AND, she said that during her pregnancy she gained 60 pounds. SIXTY. Six - Zero. And I am sitting here looking at this woman going, you're not even big right now. Only 6 weeks later. She was a little fleshy and pudgy in spots (there's always that mommy pooch on your tummy), but not overweight and definitely did not look like she had gained 60 pounds during her pregnancy. Unless she was like anorexic thin when she got pregnant. But she said she was definitely "in trouble" with our Nazi doctor with her weight gain which tells me she wasn't supposed to gain 60 pounds. So even though I've gained past my "allowed" 25 pounds already (so far have gained about 30 pounds), I don't feel like a total hippopotamus (as long as I don't look at photos of myself..). And seeing that she still looks normal even though she gained 60 pounds, gives me hope that I won't be an oompah-loompah for very long after Isabella pops out. This lady wasn't even breastfeeding, and I (hopefully) will be, so that will help even more!
We have like 5 more weeks to go. We have the family baby shower tomorrow which should be fun. And then we have to sort of make sure and buy the rest of the stuff that we don't receive, and finish her room. Install the car seat. Little things around the house to get out of the way. Pack the bag for the hospital. I feel like there's more that I'm totally forgetting. Hmmm...
Work has calmed down a lot which is lucky because my symptoms are getting more and more difficult to cope with. The heartburn is still an issue but it's one I get around by mostly never eating later than 3 or 4 or 5 pm. Actually 5 pm is even a little too late but sometimes I just can't help it. I can't even have milk or other liquid except water. And even that, I have to drink most of my water during the day. I have become an avid fan of chewing ice at night. Don't tell my dentist.
But now that I've sort of figured a (pain in the ass) way around the heartburn/reflux issue, more issues are popping up. My feet swell to nearly TWICE their normal size if I'm on my feet for any length of time, OR if I'm sitting for any length of time without them being 100% elevated. So basically, they're always enormous. I actually had to call in sick to work on Friday because they were so swollen, and my legs and even my knees were swollen, so much so that walking to the car (heck, even to the bathroom), standing in the shower, anything, was super painful and my knees kept buckling. Add to that my chest has been hurting and feeling really tight and pressured, and breathing has become a chore, and I'm pretty much over this whole pregnancy experience. Sleep is the opposite of restful and I actually dread the effort every night, even though I'm exhausted. And maybe this is TMI but my groin area is in constant pain. Sharp, shooting pains spark through that area any time I try to move - getting out of bed, even turning over from my left to right or right to left in bed, getting out of the car, standing up, walking. And sometimes when I'm just sitting here, there's a pain there that is a cross between sharp and shooting but also throbbing.
So I went to the doctor on Friday, and all the answers were basically non-answers. The swelling isn't dangerous by itself, but they're watching my protein levels and blood pressure because of it. I got compression stockings for the swelling which are so ugly (but not any more ugly than disgustingly swollen sausage feet and legs), and help. Today in our prepared childbirth class, I was wearing them, and my feet started to swell anyway, which only made it more sore, because it was like when you tie a rubber band around your finger and watch it turn purple. But mostly they do help prevent the swelling from being totally excruciating. The chest pain and breathing stuff seemed to stump the doctor - obviously some breathlessness is normal on account of a baby leaving little room for lung expansion. But they said my breath sounds and cardiac sounds were okay, and they didn't know why I'm feeling tightness and pressure. I am to wait and see if it persists. Or call again if it gets really really really bad. Finally, I was told the groinal pain is normal and will probably get worse, due to loosening of the pelvic bones and joints. Yeah. I don't care what's normal. I care that I can't move without feeling like I'm ripping something apart.. We have another appointment on Tuesday so they are going to check everything again.
But as I was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office, a woman who had just finished a post-partum check up came out, carrying her 6 week old son. So cute! So little! She sat in the waiting room after she was done because she wanted to feed him before he got fussy, and we ended up chatting. She told me that she completely hated her whole entire pregnancy experience. The whole time. 100%. She wanted to be that woman who is glowing and happy and appreciative of the miracle happening inside. But, she said, she had every bad symptom possible, and had it intensely. She said she was so over it that when her son was born she didn't even miss feeling him inside of her. She was just glad to be done. I feel so much less like an awful, negative person and bad mommy now! Like, yes! Someone out there also felt the whole time like it sucked! Well for me, it's not the whole time. I have good days (or, I did - it's been a while). And I still am fascinated by Isabella's movements and I know I will miss it. But other than that, there is nothing fun about this! And it's not just because I'm a wuss!
AND, she said that during her pregnancy she gained 60 pounds. SIXTY. Six - Zero. And I am sitting here looking at this woman going, you're not even big right now. Only 6 weeks later. She was a little fleshy and pudgy in spots (there's always that mommy pooch on your tummy), but not overweight and definitely did not look like she had gained 60 pounds during her pregnancy. Unless she was like anorexic thin when she got pregnant. But she said she was definitely "in trouble" with our Nazi doctor with her weight gain which tells me she wasn't supposed to gain 60 pounds. So even though I've gained past my "allowed" 25 pounds already (so far have gained about 30 pounds), I don't feel like a total hippopotamus (as long as I don't look at photos of myself..). And seeing that she still looks normal even though she gained 60 pounds, gives me hope that I won't be an oompah-loompah for very long after Isabella pops out. This lady wasn't even breastfeeding, and I (hopefully) will be, so that will help even more!
We have like 5 more weeks to go. We have the family baby shower tomorrow which should be fun. And then we have to sort of make sure and buy the rest of the stuff that we don't receive, and finish her room. Install the car seat. Little things around the house to get out of the way. Pack the bag for the hospital. I feel like there's more that I'm totally forgetting. Hmmm...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Going to pop soon!...
There's not much more stretching my belly can do - or at least that's how it feels! My belly button keeps getting shallower and shallower - today it's pretty much flat and starting to turn inside out. Does that mean the turkey's about done? Well I hope we make it to the end of March - but as soon as we pass that last week in March I am totally ready to meet Isabella! (Our birthing classes go until the end of March, and we are still interviewing pediatricians - it's been hard to get an appointment in before April.)
Here are the latest photos - taken yesterday, February 8th.
Here are the latest photos - taken yesterday, February 8th.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Getting huge - and new symptoms...
I'm including pictures of myself and I have to admit - they're a little misleading. When I look in the mirror, I sort of feel like I'm much more enormous than these photos portray. Perhaps it's the black top I'm wearing. Either way, included are photos from Week 23. We have been taking photos of my growing middle almost every week since we found out we were pregnant but alas, until this week we were using my Sony Cybershot, whose memory card appears to have become corrupt. My middle isn't the only thing that's growing - thighs and butt are filling out (oh joy, as if they weren't full to begin with), my feet have gone up a whole shoe size (another "side effect" they don't tell you about until it's happening - and it apparently is most likely a permanent size increase - goodbye one million pairs of shoes I have!), and my bras don't fit anymore (the ONE good thing that's happening to my body image!). My doctor is zeroing in on whether my hands, feet and ankles are swelling - this is how he will know I'm O.D.ing on sugar - and so far I am still slender in these areas. Even if these are the only areas...
As Isabella grows, she pushes all my other organs sort of out of the way - to the sides (there goes my waist), down (there goes that bladder), up (here comes the stomach) - wherever they will smoosh. The fun part of this is the acid indigestion that results from not only her tendency to make room for herself, but also some stupid hormone that relaxes all my tendons, ligaments and muscles to make expansion possible. This hormone that apparently is smart enough to make pregnancy growth possible, has not found the intelligence in the millions of years of evolution to localize its "relaxation" effects. So as Isabella shoves my stomach up into my chest cavity to reside next to my heart (there has to be some clever thing I can say about the way to my heart is my stomach, but I can't figure it out right now), this dumb hormone makes sure that the valve connecting my esophagus to my stomach is pretty much defunct.
So all my stomach contents are free to roam back up, including that insanely corrosive stomach acid (I'm surprised they haven't invented a chemical or biological weapon using this as the main ingredient). I thought I had experienced debilitating heartburn the one night I woke up in the middle of the night and indulged in a slice of plain wheat bread - only to suffer the most excruciating pain that I had ever felt, for hours. I think pregnancy teaches you to take each bout of mind-boggling pain and think to yourself, "No, it could get ten times worse. You can't imagine it now, but you'll figure it out shortly." Because that heartburn session that lasted a few hours and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared was nothing.
On a Wednesday night I ate dinner, well, at dinner time. A bajillion hours later, I went to bed (okay at like midnight), feeling full which was something I was becoming used to - feeling absurdly full hours longer than logically necessary until in a split second I was suddenly ravenous. Somewhere in the wee hours of the night I was woken up by - prepare to be grossed out - vomit coming up my throat of its own accord. No retching, no clenching of my stomach to push that half-digested substance up the wrong way. Just a slow oozing feeling, complimented by a sharp feeling that my throat was being burned from the inside out. I went to the bathroom and allowed this mass to complete its backwards journey. The rest of the night found me in and out of bed.
The following night, I had a meeting for work followed by a baby shower for a coworker. I got home about 11pm, and fell asleep almost right away. Oh no, sleep was not to be had. I was in and out of bed again just like the night before, awakened in the same manner, until 4am. After the fourth or fifth journey from the couch (I migrated to spare Alex the disturbance), I had to wonder - what is possibly even left in there? Water, it turns out, didn't help either. That was violently rejected as well.
On the Friday of this particular week, by 9pm I was feeling this familiar sensation of my insides having a life of their own. I knew that occassional vomiting is normal even past the first trimester, and that heartburn was something I was supposed to expect as Isabella claims more and more space in my insides, but this was getting a little ridiculous. After some internet searching, I found the excuse to call my doctor (I hate calling my doctor). "What do you think?" I asked him, at 10pm (he was clearly sleeping prior to this) after describing my experience to him. "I don't know," he replied. "Go to Kapiolani. You probably at least need fluids." I suppose expecting a diagnosis over the phone was a little bit of a stretch.
Alex was at work, so Mom and Nick took me to Kapiolani Medical Center. We arrived at 11pm. Nick went to sleep in the car - a wise idea since we weren't seen till 2:30am. Gosh, good thing it wasn't anything serious. When you're pregnant, they don't even deal with you in the E.R. at all - they send you straight up to labor and delivery, just in case. I think there were about four women who came in in labor, and went straight to delivery, while I was there. My friend Kat was there, had been there since Thursday in fact, and was in labor. I wondered where her room was.
When we were finally seen, they immediately hooked me up to monitors, and we got to listen to Isabella's heartbeat for a while, as well as listen to the sounds of her jumping around inside me. Boy was she active! Bumps and jumps and turns and twirls, all over the place! Clearly, she was unphased by my gastric activities. Finally they hooked me up to an I.V. at about 3am (it took them one very painful failed attempt, followed by a second very painful successful attempt - my veins were collapsing a little, indicating that indeed I was dehydrated) and administered one liter of fluid. It was the weirdest sensation I have ever felt. I could literally feel the water going into my body - room temperature water in an air conditioned hospital is considerably colder than body temperature, especially when your body is stressed. I got cold and shivery - but if you touched me, you would think I was warm. In fact, my body was still warm. But I felt cold. After much coaxing from my Mom, I accepted a warmed blanket and quit shivering. After the I.V. was finished (very quickly - less than an hour), I was instructed to drink another liter (I still hadn't peed, another indication that I was definitely dehydrated), and then given crackers to eat to see if I could keep them down.
After I got discharged at sunrise on Saturday morning, Mom and Nick took me and Alex home (Alex had come right after work), and I went to bed shortly after. I didn't throw up but I could definitely feel those crackers trying to worm their way up. What gives? I thought.
Luckily at my regular appointment the following Tuesday my doctor confirmed - it seems I have serious acid reflux. She pointed me in the direction of an over the counter remedy called Gaviscon, since Maalox had proven to be ineffective. So far the Gaviscon is pretty amazing (tastes awful), as long as I don't eat after 9pm or eat more than perhaps one and a half cups of food at a time.
My theory is that this is nature's way of making sure I don't get carried away "eating for two." What a rip off. :P
As Isabella grows, she pushes all my other organs sort of out of the way - to the sides (there goes my waist), down (there goes that bladder), up (here comes the stomach) - wherever they will smoosh. The fun part of this is the acid indigestion that results from not only her tendency to make room for herself, but also some stupid hormone that relaxes all my tendons, ligaments and muscles to make expansion possible. This hormone that apparently is smart enough to make pregnancy growth possible, has not found the intelligence in the millions of years of evolution to localize its "relaxation" effects. So as Isabella shoves my stomach up into my chest cavity to reside next to my heart (there has to be some clever thing I can say about the way to my heart is my stomach, but I can't figure it out right now), this dumb hormone makes sure that the valve connecting my esophagus to my stomach is pretty much defunct.
So all my stomach contents are free to roam back up, including that insanely corrosive stomach acid (I'm surprised they haven't invented a chemical or biological weapon using this as the main ingredient). I thought I had experienced debilitating heartburn the one night I woke up in the middle of the night and indulged in a slice of plain wheat bread - only to suffer the most excruciating pain that I had ever felt, for hours. I think pregnancy teaches you to take each bout of mind-boggling pain and think to yourself, "No, it could get ten times worse. You can't imagine it now, but you'll figure it out shortly." Because that heartburn session that lasted a few hours and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared was nothing.
On a Wednesday night I ate dinner, well, at dinner time. A bajillion hours later, I went to bed (okay at like midnight), feeling full which was something I was becoming used to - feeling absurdly full hours longer than logically necessary until in a split second I was suddenly ravenous. Somewhere in the wee hours of the night I was woken up by - prepare to be grossed out - vomit coming up my throat of its own accord. No retching, no clenching of my stomach to push that half-digested substance up the wrong way. Just a slow oozing feeling, complimented by a sharp feeling that my throat was being burned from the inside out. I went to the bathroom and allowed this mass to complete its backwards journey. The rest of the night found me in and out of bed.
The following night, I had a meeting for work followed by a baby shower for a coworker. I got home about 11pm, and fell asleep almost right away. Oh no, sleep was not to be had. I was in and out of bed again just like the night before, awakened in the same manner, until 4am. After the fourth or fifth journey from the couch (I migrated to spare Alex the disturbance), I had to wonder - what is possibly even left in there? Water, it turns out, didn't help either. That was violently rejected as well.
On the Friday of this particular week, by 9pm I was feeling this familiar sensation of my insides having a life of their own. I knew that occassional vomiting is normal even past the first trimester, and that heartburn was something I was supposed to expect as Isabella claims more and more space in my insides, but this was getting a little ridiculous. After some internet searching, I found the excuse to call my doctor (I hate calling my doctor). "What do you think?" I asked him, at 10pm (he was clearly sleeping prior to this) after describing my experience to him. "I don't know," he replied. "Go to Kapiolani. You probably at least need fluids." I suppose expecting a diagnosis over the phone was a little bit of a stretch.
Alex was at work, so Mom and Nick took me to Kapiolani Medical Center. We arrived at 11pm. Nick went to sleep in the car - a wise idea since we weren't seen till 2:30am. Gosh, good thing it wasn't anything serious. When you're pregnant, they don't even deal with you in the E.R. at all - they send you straight up to labor and delivery, just in case. I think there were about four women who came in in labor, and went straight to delivery, while I was there. My friend Kat was there, had been there since Thursday in fact, and was in labor. I wondered where her room was.
When we were finally seen, they immediately hooked me up to monitors, and we got to listen to Isabella's heartbeat for a while, as well as listen to the sounds of her jumping around inside me. Boy was she active! Bumps and jumps and turns and twirls, all over the place! Clearly, she was unphased by my gastric activities. Finally they hooked me up to an I.V. at about 3am (it took them one very painful failed attempt, followed by a second very painful successful attempt - my veins were collapsing a little, indicating that indeed I was dehydrated) and administered one liter of fluid. It was the weirdest sensation I have ever felt. I could literally feel the water going into my body - room temperature water in an air conditioned hospital is considerably colder than body temperature, especially when your body is stressed. I got cold and shivery - but if you touched me, you would think I was warm. In fact, my body was still warm. But I felt cold. After much coaxing from my Mom, I accepted a warmed blanket and quit shivering. After the I.V. was finished (very quickly - less than an hour), I was instructed to drink another liter (I still hadn't peed, another indication that I was definitely dehydrated), and then given crackers to eat to see if I could keep them down.
After I got discharged at sunrise on Saturday morning, Mom and Nick took me and Alex home (Alex had come right after work), and I went to bed shortly after. I didn't throw up but I could definitely feel those crackers trying to worm their way up. What gives? I thought.
Luckily at my regular appointment the following Tuesday my doctor confirmed - it seems I have serious acid reflux. She pointed me in the direction of an over the counter remedy called Gaviscon, since Maalox had proven to be ineffective. So far the Gaviscon is pretty amazing (tastes awful), as long as I don't eat after 9pm or eat more than perhaps one and a half cups of food at a time.
My theory is that this is nature's way of making sure I don't get carried away "eating for two." What a rip off. :P
Thursday, November 4, 2010
BIG
On Tuesday Alex and I celebrated our first anniversary (a day early - work schedules don't care about such occasions), and he took me on a helicopter tour! Exciting!
And a little scary. They tell you all about how once you have a child (or one on the way) your perspective on life changes, your priorities change, blahblahblah. Obviously. They don't tell you about the details of what this really means. For most of my adult life, I've lived with the general philosophy, when it comes to risk taking, of "What's the worst that could happen?" And even the worst, death, didn't scare me too much. I suppose the worst would be debilitating injury, but I figured I could deal with that if it happened. Now, the worst that could happen is still death or debilitating injury, but I guess my point is that actually matters now, a LOT (and add a third "worst" - the baby could get hurt). If I die, I won't be around for Bean. If I'm injured forever, I won't be the same kind of mom for Bean I want to be. If Bean gets hurt, I'll never forgive myself. So now I - a person who gladly walked to the edges of cliffs to see what's down there, a person who was never afraid of flying, or afraid of thugs walking down the street acting dumb - stood in front of this chopper, my heart pounding. Who am I?! I wondered.
The tour was (obviously) safe and successful, and it was pretty damn cool. So I was just working on uploading our photos to Facebook, when I came across the one of me and Alex standing in front of the helicopter. "Oh my God," I muttered. I spent a good, full, five minutes debating whether to even upload that one. I. Am. Puffy. I'm not just belly-pregnant. I'm...bigger. Rounder. Fluffier. Dough-ier. Even in my face. That's how you know it's not just my imagination.
I already have been feeling enormous, as you know. But seeing it. Confirming it with more than a funkified mirror (I don't trust mirrors, really, because I've learned that in general my view of my mirror image doesn't really apply to reality). Staring at it in digital high resolution. This was more than I was prepared for. Which prompted me to search online for other blogs or articles by women who feel this way. (A good one here.) Clearly from all the literature out there, every single woman who gets pregnant has at least some of these thoughts. Maybe some or most other women don't obsess over it like I do, or are more positive about it. But if you meet someone who is in love with her body the whole time she's pregnant - tell her she's a liar.
It's also great when people see me and say, "Wow!" and then ask how far along I am. And then say things like, "Wow your baby is growing fast!" or "Mmmm..you got a long ways to go - and grow!" Uhuh. Thanks. Now shut up and hand me that cookie.
And a little scary. They tell you all about how once you have a child (or one on the way) your perspective on life changes, your priorities change, blahblahblah. Obviously. They don't tell you about the details of what this really means. For most of my adult life, I've lived with the general philosophy, when it comes to risk taking, of "What's the worst that could happen?" And even the worst, death, didn't scare me too much. I suppose the worst would be debilitating injury, but I figured I could deal with that if it happened. Now, the worst that could happen is still death or debilitating injury, but I guess my point is that actually matters now, a LOT (and add a third "worst" - the baby could get hurt). If I die, I won't be around for Bean. If I'm injured forever, I won't be the same kind of mom for Bean I want to be. If Bean gets hurt, I'll never forgive myself. So now I - a person who gladly walked to the edges of cliffs to see what's down there, a person who was never afraid of flying, or afraid of thugs walking down the street acting dumb - stood in front of this chopper, my heart pounding. Who am I?! I wondered.
The tour was (obviously) safe and successful, and it was pretty damn cool. So I was just working on uploading our photos to Facebook, when I came across the one of me and Alex standing in front of the helicopter. "Oh my God," I muttered. I spent a good, full, five minutes debating whether to even upload that one. I. Am. Puffy. I'm not just belly-pregnant. I'm...bigger. Rounder. Fluffier. Dough-ier. Even in my face. That's how you know it's not just my imagination.
I already have been feeling enormous, as you know. But seeing it. Confirming it with more than a funkified mirror (I don't trust mirrors, really, because I've learned that in general my view of my mirror image doesn't really apply to reality). Staring at it in digital high resolution. This was more than I was prepared for. Which prompted me to search online for other blogs or articles by women who feel this way. (A good one here.) Clearly from all the literature out there, every single woman who gets pregnant has at least some of these thoughts. Maybe some or most other women don't obsess over it like I do, or are more positive about it. But if you meet someone who is in love with her body the whole time she's pregnant - tell her she's a liar.
It's also great when people see me and say, "Wow!" and then ask how far along I am. And then say things like, "Wow your baby is growing fast!" or "Mmmm..you got a long ways to go - and grow!" Uhuh. Thanks. Now shut up and hand me that cookie.
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