32 Weeks Preggers

Ok. I'm officially in my 8th month today and the sky hasn't fallen so I'm in a miraculously good mood right now. This sunny outlook on the day is especially unexpected given my extreme lack of sleep last night, being in a natural gas regulation hearing right now, and the fact that much of the work I've done over the last couple of weeks to cover my boss' ass has today been attributed to one of my male coworkers. In other words, it should be the perfect storm of crappy days but for some reason I'm not feeling like committing homicide.

The Baby Center update can be found by clicking on this while the 3d picture and information page can be found here. I'm a bit worried by some of the stuff mentioned in the 3d blurb though...like what the hell is a "snot sucker" and do I even want to know what it looks like??? Quite frankly, I'm a bit scared to Google it because it sounds horrible and more than mildly disgusting. Can't I just skip that and have the pediatrician do whatever that entails? Maybe Bug will be a child prodigy and just blow obligingly when I ask her to? On second thought, I don't want to waste her allotment of extraordinary characteristics/abilities on blowing her nose at birth so scratch that.

Eeeeew! I'm grossing myself out by talking about something called a snot sucker and I don't even have a clue what the hell it is. Just the fact that I have to type that phrase - "SNOT SUCKER" - makes me feel like I should just give it all up: throw out my makeup, put my hair up in a messy pony tail, buy those mommy jeans and slip behind the wheel of that shiny new minivan where I can sing "The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round" until the day I die.

This is hardly the glamorous "Carrie Bradshaw" life I envisioned when I was younger, you know? I bet you could watch every damn episode of Sex in the City and not once hear the phrase "SNOT SUCKER" uttered. Not once, I tell you!

Holy Crap. Reality Hits the Fan! (Part 19)

Tomorrow I'll be officially in my eighth month.

I'll be in my 8th month and already people are always saying stuff like: "oh you must have everything ready for baby now, hey?" or "you must be close to finished her nursery now, right?

umm...

well...

(blush)

Oh who the hell do I think I'm fooling? I suck, ok? I suck! I suck!
EYEEEEEE SUUUUUUCK! *shamed sob*

My nursery-to-be still looks like a bomb loaded with loose paper went off in it (although the paper fallout is far less than it used to be...)

Sadly, if I went into labour right now, Bug would have nowhere to sleep, nothing to wear actually purchased by her parents in anticipation of her impending birth, and her father would be forced to run out to an all night pharmacy to stock up on the diapers, bum wipes and diaper cream (etc, etc, etc) just so she wouldn't be left lying naked on the corner while both her parents try to figure out how to install the damn car seat we just bought yesterday. (for the edification of the expectant grandparents: behold! Here is the overly expensive safety device we splashed out for yesterday that will protect your granddaughter. Nice colour, hey?)

I guess I could always distract Bug from the harsh reality that her mother is a disorganized loser by dangling the sales slip showing that I did actually buy a crib in front of her although I'm not sure how comforting she would find that once she actually needed somewhere to sleep.

Believe me, I know that things gotta change but just in case I needed an extra kick in the pants, tonight the gods arranged for one but good. Scott and I went for a nice leisurely walk earlier this evening and a couple of blocks before we made it home, I was doubled over with Braxton Hicks and pelvic pain. I knew it was nothing...but it made me think.

This. Kid. Could. Come. At. ANY. Time.

Gottacleanupthenurseryrightfrickennowdammit!

No time to write...feeling the need to organize things. And paint things. And buy things. And...

Taxi Cab Confessions

On Friday, I got up earlier than usual to make sure I would be early to the 2 procedural conferences on my schedule that morning. You would think that might translate into an easy and leisurely trip into work but no. Apparently, I'm getting slower the farther along in this pregnancy I go and on top of that the transit angels just weren't on my side that morning. After watching a couple of buses blow by my stop without even slowing down (full of annoyingly keen students on their way to UBC, I'm guessing) I gave up and called a cab.

Then I thanked the gods (prematurely, as it happens) that my cab came in relatively short order because by that point I was teetering on the cusp of irreversible lateness. I hopped in and the ride from hell began...

1. The cabbie was very fond of every form of offensive joke known to man (oh joy!)

2. The cabbie, after apparently exhausting his store of "jokes", decided it was time to enlighten me about the goings on in his life last Saturday night...which apparently included being charged with a well-deserved DUI. He then went on to describe how he was driving me to my hearing without actually having his driver's licence because it was seized.

3. Then, he apparently felt it was important for me to know that this was his second DUI and that he had also had a major brain surgery recently that had really played havoc on his personality and "stuff". (I'm guessing the "stuff"part includes his ability to keep facts probably not intended for public consumption to himself)

4. During the course of this ride, the cabbie's driving deteriorated from "marginally ok" to "Holy shit, I'm gonna die!" so that when I got out of the cab, I was shaking and sweating from the effort it took to keep from crying the whole way across the Cambie Street Bridge.

Then, as I paid him, he had the nerve to look pissed when I only tipped him the difference between what I actually owed and the next round dollar up.

Needless to say, I took public transit home and felt damn lucky to be doing so. No stress, no tears, and most importantly, no questionable taxi cab confessions. Ahhh, pure bliss.

Conversations with Bug

I was zoning out on my way to work this morning and I realized that I was unconsciously rubbing my baby bump...again and I began to wonder why I've been doing it so much lately. All the sudden I had an epiphany: I'm doing it to try to connect with Bug. It is kind of like I'm having a one-sided conversation with her...a silent monologue of touch.

Sometimes I'm saying hi and letting her know that I'm thinking about her.
Sometimes I'm trying to let her know that I'm here to protect her.
Sometimes I'm trying to soothe her so she'll feel better about staying where she is for another couple of weeks and other times I'm asking her to just move a bit so I know she's ok.
And other times, I'm just telling her over and over again that her mom loves her.

Since I'm the kind of person who wanders around the house talking to her cats (don't worry, they don't answer back...MOST of the time) I have no problem doing the same with Bug in private. However, since I spend so much of my time at work and on transit, I'm thinking this mother/daughter chat by touch is pretty cool with the bonus that I don't look crazy in public.

31 Weeks

I was planning on doing at least one more posting over the weekend but our internet router decided that it had had enough of the poor working conditions at our place and quit. Sadly, quite a number of electronics that have spent any amount of time in my company lately are now either on strike or they've come down with a serious case of Alzheimers. Perhaps we should offer health benefits?

My cell phone has decided that I now merit my own time zone: BC + 30 minutes (which, given my size, I have problems disputing). If this was a one time glitch, I would have found it mildly funny, but every single time I correct the time, my phone goes into a sulk and then changes it back when I'm not looking. My clock radio screams and goes off channel when I dare touch it and my ipod is now just plain ignoring me most of the time when I try to use the touch wheel. Why shouldn't my router join in on the "fun"? Sigh

I've always had some effect on electronics (batteries in watches die quick deaths, radios get louder when I am nearby, etc) but lately the problem has gotten so much worse. I'm beginning to wonder if Bug is going to be like me and if the two of us are what is causing these additional or accelerated glitches. I'm just glad my computer here at work is still working (although that may be because our IT dude recommended I place the tower as far away from me as physically possible when he first realized my effect on electronics).

Anyway...so here we are: 31 weeks along. The Baby Center's update this week is ho hum but it does have a pretty good picture showing roughly how big Bug is...no wonder my stomach is as hard as a drum and I'm constantly running for the bathroom! I'm surprised the kid can move at all in there! The 3D pic and blurb are here but again, I'm not blown away by the amazing info. I read my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" week 31 update this morning and there was at least one thing I remember thinking was cool...but do you think I can remember what that was? Noooooo, not a chance. Gah!

Bug and I are doing well. I'm feeling pretty good most of the time if you don't count being tired, having a sore back, feeling like my pelvis is being pushed down to my knees, and the almost constant sensation that my hips are being pried out of their sockets.

I know it may not always sound like it, but for all my bitching there really is nothing like this whole experience...I wouldn't trade it for all the ibuprofen in the world (which is - these days - saying a LOT).

Prenatal Lessons from Classical Roman Poets

Scott and I attended our first prenatal class last night. Each Thursday for 5 weeks straight we're heading to St. Paul's for a 2 hour birthing primer. I wish I could say it was going to teach me how to survive this process intact, but given my current physical state I'd say that train has already left the station.

I had the impression that we were going to be sitting on the floor practicing breathing or watching a graphic birthing video but overall it was pretty damn benign. We learned about the various phases of labour and a few natural pain management/relaxation techniques, ate some chocolate puffed cereal squares, got to know our classmates a bit, and that was about it.

My worst moment came when I realized how incredibly tight a space the pelvis is. The nurse took an unrealistically small doll and a skeleton's pelvis to illustrate how the baby travels from the uterus to the outside world and boy, was it a tight fit. I almost asked for my epidural right then and there.

So where was the drama? The images of panting women and the blood, sweat and screaming? Just between you and me, I bet that last night there were any number of women labouring away up on the third floor in the maternity ward cursing the prenatal class they attended just weeks ago because that smiling, perky little nurse teaching it sold them a bill of goods about the joys and rewards of natural child birth without showing them the grim and gory reality. Pfft! Suckers.

Can you tell I'm suspicious of this whole process?

Personally, I think Virgil was a bit off in the Aeneid warning us all about Greeks bearing gifts. My advice? Beware of nurses advocating natural childbirth who ply you with chocolaty snacks.

Butter Chicken Negates my Self Control...Again.

I hate to admit it, but I think I might be guilty of buying into a pregnancy stereotype because I honestly expected my 3rd trimester to be even more about food than the 2nd was. I imagined I would be a hearty eater right up until the last month or so when (presumably) my innards would be so cramped by my uterus that eating would become more of a grudgingly performed chore than one of life's little pleasures. After all, I thought, why wouldn't that be the case? Bug is now around 3 pounds (give or take) and I know she's supposed to at least double that before she pops out in that short and painless fun-fest otherwise known as labour and birthing. Hey, I don't know what your birthing experiences were like or what you've been told by women who've gone through it, but MY labour and birthing will be EXACTLY as I've just described it or my OB will be forced to figure out another way of breathing after I rip out his lungs.

So if I'm 9 weeks away from my EDD (estimated due date) and Bug isn't anywhere close to what will be her full size at birth, it seems reasonable to expect I will need to be able to eat a fair bit right now, hey? Well surprisingly, that isn't the case. Over the last week, I've found that if I take the noshes I manage to choke down during the day and add them up, they don't compare to the total daily volume of food I was scarfing down so easily just a couple of weeks ago. If I try to eat more, I suffer. Whooo Boy, do I suffer! Let's just say Tums became a 5th food group until I figured this out.

So why is this an issue? Well...I was actually doing pretty well adjusting to the necessary change in my eating habits until I bumped into my old nemesis - butter chicken - today at lunch. My good friend Pat and I met up for a midday meal at our fave Indian takeaway joint and I completely lost my head. I ate about 4 times more in one sitting than was advisable. I just couldn't help myself. I went with the best of intentions but when I got that plate of butter chicken and that big hunk of naan (Indian flat bread) in front of me, I went into a kind of trance and ate every bloody bite. Doh! Now? I'm "sitting" here at my desk (hunching is more like it) wishing with every fiber of my being that I was able to just fast forward through the rest of my day because I'm in so much pain I can't even sit up straight.

Strangely enough, they don't make Tums in "idiot strength" so I'm afraid I'm stuck with this until further notice. It should make my visit to the dentist tonight a real joy.