Caution: Spontaneous baby eruption may occur

I’d forgotten the “joy” of interacting with other people in a professional environment when pregnant.

I met a couple of former coworkers for lunch today that I hadn’t seen in a while. It was a good lunch. Since I’d parked near their office building, I stopped in on our way back (we ate on campus) to say hello to everyone else.

Being massively pregnant, everyone’s very natural question was: “So when are you due?” Not many people ask me that anymore. Probably because I don’t see that many people on a day-to-day basis. I haven’t missed the pregnancy questions.
Anyway. “Tuesday,” I replied. Which caused them to practically jump or take a step backwards away from me as if a baby was going to spontaneously spill from my body at any moment. It was quite the universal reaction. And quite funny.
Unfortunately, I was able to make it all the way home and through the afternoon without a baby falling out between my legs. I’ll probably make it through the night and tomorrow as well. Hopefully not all the way to Tuesday, though.

Makes me want to walk around somewhere people know me on Tuesday, though, just so I can get that reaction all over again. Imagine the response to “When are you due?”. “Today! Right now! Right this second.” Hahhahahahaha

Lunch was great, though. I miss some of my coworkers but I totally don’t miss being in an office environment or the 9-to-5 life.

Beginning to wait

Work is good. Life is good. We’re ready for Berry to arrive, pretty much.

The waiting begins, I think. Somewhere in my head I kinda hoped that she’d be born on Easter. No particular reason. Just a fancy. A whim.

I don’t think it’s going to happen. It’s 9 days before her due date. Duncan was born 10 days AFTER his due date, after I was induced. Thinking I’m going to have an early baby is…well…self-torture, pretty much.

But we’ve been getting ready in any case. The bassinette has been carried upstairs, the bedding is in the wash, Duncan is in his new room, the changing table is in Berry’s room, the car seat is installed (mostly correctly).

Every strange, sometimes breath-taking-away twinge and sensation makes me wonder if IT is about to begin. But it hasn’t. It will eventually, I know.

The problem with feeling almost totally ready is that you’re then waiting. We’re only “almost” ready because I still have some work to finish — like a 9 am interview tomorrow. And the house could do with some cleaning. And the crib mattress needs to be put up. But, other than work, it’s mostly little things. And I’m getting to the point where I’d even trade having to work right after Berry is born with not being pregnant anymore.

Silly me. Like I have a choice.

So wish me luck, and mostly patience. I’m grateful to have a full-term, healthy baby girl hanging out inside me. She’ll be here soon, I know.

Update

Not much to update on, really – just realized it’s been a while since I posted.

Still pregnant. Attic still not finished. Still working. Got some big projects to finish.

My midwife said I seemed overwhelmed at my appointment yesterday. See above.

Oh, plus Duncan has had some kind of stomach virus (vomiting + diarhea + fever). And our kitchen sink got totally clogged up for 5 days which meant no water in the kitchen.

Yeah. Who wouldn’t be?

But Berry will be born whenever she’s born (I’m 36 1/2 weeks now), work will get gone and she’ll eventually have a room to move into. The weather, at least, seems to be finally getting warmer (60-something F today), even if I’m not really getting outside to enjoy it much. It still makes me happy to know it’s there.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

Childbirth expectations

The tech at my chiropractor’s office asked me today if I was planning a natural childbirth (she’s also pregnant).

I admit my first thought was, “Natural? As opposed to what? Unnatural childbirth?”

She was talking pain meds, of course. I’ll be doing hypnobabies again, which is what I said. She’s doing hypnobirthing (very similar, slightly different in some way, I guess).

She wanted to know how it worked for me with Duncan. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
I’ve had a bunch of people ask me about self-hypnosis for childbirth and how well it works. I do recommend it to people, but I always do so with some hesistation. I feel like I need to explain my experience, without actually telling them how much pain I felt.

What I realized in the shower today was that our expectations of childbirth are plain unrealistic. Whether it’s the epidural that’s supposed to take all pain away — but doesn’t always work exactly like it’s supposed to  — or hypnobirthing.

Hypnobirthing definitely helped me. It gave me something to return my focus to, it helped me relax, and I’m positive that it helped Duncan make a steady transition into the world. I dilated quickly and smoothly, he dropped, I pushed (OK, for 2 hours) and out he came. His heartbeat never wavered (being induced, I was hooked up to the fetal monitor the whole time).

However, I felt a lot more than “pressure.” I felt pain. Intense pain.

And I felt a sense of failure. Because I wasn’t giving birth like those women in the hypnobabies videos who barely moan and sigh and look half-asleep and out comes a baby.

I felt like I wasn’t doing it right. Like it was my fault it hurt.

Would I have felt it was my fault if I’d had an epidural and it only numbed my right side? No. I’d have modern medicine to blame for that.

So who’s fault is it that I felt pain instead of pressure? Did I not practice enough? Believe enough? Focus enough? Did my birthing team not give me enough of the right signals/cues? Who knows. Maybe induced labor really is a whole lot harder and more intense. Maybe expelling a 9+ lb person out of a small hole is supposed to cause a little discomfort. Maybe I just suck a dealing with pain (this is true. Being in chronic pain causes me to have a low pain threshold and fibromyalgia has something to do with feeling pain more intensely than other people).

Anyway, the brilliant realization I came to today had something to do with my expectations – of myself and of any method of pain relief.

Maybe hypnobabies shouldn’t be promising a pain-free childbirth experience. Maybe they shouldn’t focus so much on that. So that if you do feel some pain instead of pressure you don’t feel like you’re failing.

I am going to use self-hypnosis again. If it helps me relax, keeps things progressing smoothly and gives me something to focus on it’ll be a success. There may be some discomfort involved. And I think I can be OK with that.

What room is this again?

I’m waiting for Kevin to get into the shower so I can do my bedtime routine (the bathroom isn’t big enough for 2 people to both do things unless one is standing in the bathtub). So here’s a probably equally confusing explanation about our bedroom situation (no, the who sleeps where situation).

We have 3 bedrooms. Currently one of them is our room, one is Duncan’s room and one (the one without any closets) is my office. The one that’s our room used to be the guest bedroom/my room/the nursery. It is now just “Mummy and Daddy’s room.” Duncan’s bedroom used to be the room we called “Kevin’s room” even though we both slept in there (unless I was pregnant, then I slept in “my room” which is now no longer mine).

Confused yet? Good.

So my office will become Duncan’s room and Duncan’s room will become Berry’s room. And our room just finally stays our room.

Why the crazy room switcharoo?

Berry’s future room (Duncan’s current room) is already painted lavendar. My office is a strange peach color. The plan for Duncan’s permanent bedroom is to paint it a lovely turquoisey sea blue. The office needs painting anyway. Moving Duncan into the office (post-painting) means I only have to paint 1 room instead of 2.

Also, Berry’s room has a closet. She’s a girl. She needs a closet. The office has bookshelves. Duncan has approximately 7 million books.
Lastly, the office is the furthest room from our bedroom. So if we close the door at night, hopefully Berry waking up (either in a bassinet in our room or in her own room which is a little closer) won’t wake up Duncan. Plus she’ll be closer for us to hear her. By closer, I mean by like 4 feet. But maybe it’ll make a difference.

So now you know where we all sleep — or, as the case may be like last night, don’t sleep but instead keep getting out of our beds and playing with our cool fishy nightlight.

And Kevin not only got in the shower in the space of writing this post, but also appears to be done with his shower. So I’ll have to further wait until he’s dried off and out of the bathroom. So much for getting to bed early.

The Berry Project update

I don’t remember when I got cracking on getting things ready for Duncan’s arrival.

I know I was concerned with having everything done a month before his due date. Just in case.
The car seat was installed, the crib was up. Was his room painted? I don’t remember. I remember doing a lot of painting in mid-July — after his due date, as I was waiting. I could be wrong though.

This time we don’t have a lot of stuff to get. Sure, we need lots of size 1 diapers and some warm, girly 0-3 month clothing. But we pretty much have everything we need (except perhaps a new car seat, a swing and some boppy covers).

We do, however, have a lot of house stuff to finish. Like a room for the baby. Since I work from home, I can’t give up my office. Home office = mortgage payment. And while we stuffed Duncan into the little nursery/dressing room off our guest bedroom for more than a year, that’s now our bedroom and it’s full of dressers and things.

So Berry gets her own room.

…to be continued…the little guy just woke up from his nap (the one it took me 2 hours to get him to take in his new “big boy” bed).

The room juggle

At dinner on Thursday night, a friend of mine brought my attention to my remissiveness about posting about our home improvements.

I was mostly writing about them on the insider blog in 2006. First it was the new roof. Then the attic renovation.

First came the insulation removal. Yuck. It was filthy and I managed to get some in my eye, earning me a week of no-contact-lense-wearing. Then the re-insulation of the attic – during which my husband decided to listen to my “expert” advice and missed an important step, resulting in having to re-do half the insulation.

While I admit fault in steering him wrong and am pleased he heeded me, I’m still left wondering why he looked to me for home improvement instructions. He installed our new kitchen 2 years ago. I just stayed out of the way and ordered pizza. I paint, he installs and fixes things. That’s how it works around here. way

Anyway, the insulation went up over the summer. Then the drywall made it’s appearance.

We got it delivered from…hmm…Rochester Building Supply, I think. They wrangled their big boom truck down our little street and boomed it in through the attic window. Really, they were great. Someone came out before the delivery to actually measure the window and make sure it’d clear. It did — by 1/2″.

Now we’re onto the mudding. After that I’m told it’s painting, then carpet time, then I get to move my office up there!

Note: I won’t be doing the painting. I am 7 months pregnant and not that ambitious.

I will, however, be painting my office so that Duncan can move in here, freeing his room for the baby. The baby that will arrive sometime in the next 9-10 weeks. We have a deadline, people. This HAS to get done. (Can you sense the panic?)

Don’t worry, I have a plan. I’m in the midst of packing my office so that — if need be — I can go ahead and paint it and get it ready for Duncan before the attic is finished and ready for me. After all, it’s not like I’m going to be doing much filing right after Berry is born (yes, that’s what we’re naming her).

Between yesterday and today I have managed to pack 11 boxes of books, photos and CDs. Yet my bookshelves still aren’t bare. I do have a shelf full of books to either sell to a used book store or freecycle. And unfortunately, for painting to begin, the shelves all have to come down. At least we have 9 weeks, right?

Blogging in my head

I want you to know that I’ve been blogging. In my head.

Somehow the act of taking those “head thoughts” and turning them into “written thoughts” is just too much effort most days. But I think about it all the time. Mostly I think about how lame I’ve become about it.

Partly, I’ve been busy. Most of my awake non-Duncan time that is spent working. I’m working as much now as I was when I was at RIT. Not making as much money yet. But working hard.

I’ve also been somewhat exhausted when I haven’t been working. I used to get in a couple of hours of computer time after Duncan went to bed. Now I plop on the couch for an hour or so after dinner, watch some TV and fold laundry. It’s an exciting life.

Growing new human life takes a lot of you. And I thought this pregnancy would be easier.

So those are my excuses.

How am I finding the time to blog right now, you wonder? Well, right now I’m procrastinating about doing something else.

Mmmm…yorkshire pudding

I think there’s something dead under my oven.

Pregnancy has lent me its supersonic sense of smell. When combined with apparently never-ending morning sickness, this is not a good thing. I’ve banned Kevin from making corned beef hash as every time he does, I throw up. One day last week I came downstairs for a snack and the cat must have just had a poop because the smell sent me diving towards the kitchen sink.

Every time I’m in the kitchen I smell something. For a while I thought it was the cat box which is round the corner in the pantry. But I smell it even after it’s just been cleaned. In the last couple of days my nose has narrowed it down to something in the kitchen itself, possibly underneath the stove or the fridge.

So today I looked. Or at least tried. I hope we don’t get a blackout any time soon because I have no idea where a flashlight is in this house. I know we have at least one. But where? You got me.

But I lay on the kitchen floor (which I really should scrub thoroughly one of these months) and looked under the stove. I saw an outline. Ew. A mouse? I gingerly probed with a flattened cardboard box while Duncan was occupied in the living room. Dust bunny. Then I investigated further. No flashlight, perhaps, but my cell phone’s flash illuminated a little. Not enough. There were lots of odd shapes under there. Could it be a dead body? Who knows. The smell continues.

However, I think maybe the morning sickness is getting better. I cooked tonight. Really cooked.

One of the few things I loved about family life growing up in England (or at least kinda enjoyed) was Sunday dinner. There was always a roast animal of some kind, roast potatoes, a veggie that I could probably choke down and, if we got really lucky or it was Christmas, yorkshire puddings. And gravy. (Got to have the gravy.)

I know Duncan isn’t old enough to appreciate it yet, and Kevin is asleep Sunday afternoon/evening as he’s working nights, but I want my Sunday dinner tradition back. Maybe not every Sunday, though that would be nice. Maybe when the kids are older. And Kevin has a normal-hours job. But I thought I’d give it a try today.

So – roast beef (which can be sliced and hopefully eaten in sandwiches), roast red potatoes (skins still on), brussel sprouts picked fresh from the garden, gravy, and yorkshire puddings. I also made some butternut squash but forgot to eat it.

Mmmm…yorkshire pudding smothered in gravy.

Duncan was totally not into it, ate a little potato, a bite of beef, handed me his yorkshire pudding and was done. Then he fed himself a jar of baby food carrots and allowed me to feed him half a banana.

I loved it, though. I’m not one of those “eat to live” people who only eats because they have to. At least not usually. I know I have an emotional connection with food and I work to keep it from being an unhealthy one. I think it’s good when that connection brings real pleasure. Like tonight.

And maybe it’s a sign that my stomach is getting back to normal and will stop punishing me with thoughts of dead rodents under the stove. Bleh!

Post partum body issues

Is it so wrong to want — at 4 weeks after having a baby — to have my pre-pregnancy body back? Or the Body I Had When I Met Kevin back?

Now, provided that my scale isn’t consistently lying to me, I’ve lost 32 lbs so far. It’s one of those digital scales with the “body fat analyzer” (I used quote marks because I think it just makes stuff up. I don’t really have 36% body fat, do I?).

I won’t buy a digital scale again. It gives different readings depending on where in the room you put it. I, of course, put it in the place where it gives me the lightest weight result. I’ll take a good, regular dial scale again. You might not always like what they tell you, but at least they don’t lie and make things up.

So I’ve lost 32 lbs. And have 17 more to go to get to pre-preg weight. To get to “ideal” weight, add on another 8 lbs.

This means that I don’t fit in my regular clothes. Nor do I fit in my preggo summer clothes. And the winter clothes are too warm to wear right now, and some are actually still too small somehow. I guess I was growing a belly at the beginning, not the hips and thighs I grew at the end (to counterbalance the belly, of course).

So that leaves me with 1 pair of size 14 capris that I went out and bought. Size 14! Seems like such a long way to go to get back into my size 8 clothes that were getting a little snug last fall.

I know, it’s only been a month. It took 9 months to put on the weight….I should at least give it 4 months to come off, right? I don’t know if I can stand the thought of 9 months of shedding pounds right now.

And while caring for a newborn is demanding, it’s not like I’m walking miles around campus anymore or going to the gym or swimming at lunch. I just need to walk miles around the neighborhood. With Duncan in the stroller that he pooped in the other day whose cover is completely impossible to take off and put in the wash. That’s why they make Windex. That stuff cleans everything.