So today I had my final Ultrasound of the pregnancy. I think every pregnant woman agrees that the Ultrasound is the most reassuring part of being pregnant, especially with the first baby. So much is going on with your body there's just no way to tell what's normal and what's not.
I'm 25 weeks and a few days pregnant today, but from week 22-25, I was very uncomfortable. I had a lot of weird pressure in my lower abdomen, to the point of being almost painful. Of course when you google these symptoms, you get the scariest possibilities, along with the possibility that your baby is simply growing. Today we learned the reason for the strange feelings over the past few weeks. Here's what happened...
First of all, it's about a thousand degrees out today. I've been struggling with dehydration a lot lately, so we decided we'd drive the few blocks up to my doctor today instead of walking. I don't know how much that helped because we were there before the air conditioner even kicked in. Dustin was all decked out in his work gear...I caught all the ladies in my doctor's office checking him out. One major bonus I love about this practice over my LI practice is that my ultrasounds are done in the same building as my doctor's appointments. I used to have to go to a different place. So we check in for the ultrasound and meet our tech...who is the NICEST EFFING PERSON ON THE PLANET. She took her time with us, showing us every little detail and getting some truly amazing pictures.
The baby is getting big. I was very uncomfortable because up until a day or two ago, she was still laying sideways. She's now head down, and while I can feel her kicking my lungs, she's no longer jammed in my hips, which was EXTREMELY icky and the reason for my severe discomfort. Her head is resting right on my bladder, which explains the 900 trips to the bathroom each day, but I don't even care. Everything was PERFECT.
You may notice I'm using the "she" pronoun more freely. Yes, we got 100 percent confirmation that it's a girl. She was super cooperative today, twisting and turning and giving our tech the opportunity to get shots of all of her important parts...we saw the heart with four perfect, thumping valves, a perfect spine, a completely normally formed face, two kidneys and a million other little measurments that are beyond my medical knowledge. All in all though, the results were PERFECT across the board.
She has very big feet, and looooong fingers. Her little cheeks are getting chubby...both the ones on her face and her butt. She's measuring 24 weeks, 6 days everywhere except for her belly, which is about a week ahead of the rest of her. I am not surprised, look at her mom.
I need to write a nice note to that sono tech. She really took her time and was so nice. She explained everything. It was NOTHING like the last sono I had on the island, where the woman spent a total of 8 minutes with us before giving up and saying "it's probably a girl...she wasn't really being cooperative."
I said to Dustin that I think it just hit me today that this is actually happening. I think that caught him off guard. He asked why it took this long to realize that...and I ashamedly admitted that I was afraid something would go wrong and make this all go away. I was so uncomfortable...and feeling so weird for the past few weeks, I had convinced myself that something horrible had happened. After getting through the ultrasound with flying colors...and then the pee test (normal) blood pressure (117/72) and the weight check (10 pounds total so far in the pregnancy)...I realized that sometimes you just feel shitty when you're pregnant. There were a few days I could barely move...but that's normal when you have a big footed kid jabbin at your insides, I guess.
We walked away with the most incredible pictures so far. One just makes my heart melt and I can't stop staring at it. It's my baby girl, looking right at us, with a HUGE, open mouthed smile. It's incredible. We were able to see her moving her little mouth pretty much the entire time, and it just makes it so real. A little person, with a little mouth...and a huge belly and feet.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Things I Struggle to Understand (Working Title: Things that Piss Me Off.)
Sometimes I just like to get some thoughts out in front of me. I don't know if it's pregnancy hormones or my generally irritable nature, but some things have been getting under my skin lately. Maybe if I purge them, they won't bother me so much.
If You Dress Like That...You're Asking For It...
My primary activity lately is watching television. Yeah, I know I should be doing something a little more productive...perhaps use this time to read some parenting books...or do some yoga...maybe paint a mural or learn how to bake a pie from scratch...whatever it is that good people do...but I've chosen to watch a lot of TV instead. I honestly have been feeling like crap lately, so that's my excuse, but really...I just love TV. I've been working since I was fifteen years old and this is the first time I find myself with tons of time on my hands...and with the time I have to myself dwindling by the second, don't judge me for my choices.
But as much as I love television, my tried and true shows have begun to get stale. You know you watch too much TV when you start seeing reruns of Maury that you're able to quote. Or when you know what door the good prize is behind. Or when you no longer chuckle when Judge Judy says "Put your hand down, does it sound like you're losing?" So I've had to go a little rogue with my programming choices. One show that I've recently started getting sucked into is the most horrible, terrible, no good very bad piece of crap on TV...Toddlers and Tiaras...also known as "Crazy Moms and Bratty Whores."
(Yes, I know these kids aren't whores, and it's not right to call a three year old a whore, but if I saw a 20 year old dressed/painted up like these kids, odds are that's what her profession would be.)
Alright so, the premise of this show, if you haven't seen it, is young girls (and the random boy) and their crazy moms (and the random dad) participating in pagents. For money. Being a girl and about to give birth to another girl, I have some difficulty grasping why anyone would do this to their child.
I'll admit, if I think back to my three year old self, I would probably have been drawn to the make up and dresses. But I don't think I would have been into the waxing, tanning, fake teeth, fake eyelashes, constant rehearsal and then ultimate judgement by strangers. My mother, while fitting the "crazy" requirement, luckily had enough brainpower to keep me away from this world, even though I have seen pictures of me in halloween costumes all done up and I'm positive I could have been the best looking little whore at the pagent.
But aside from the very peodo feeling I get from these pagents, I am more disgusted at the fact that these girls are being taught a terrible lesson: It REALLY matters what you look like. Having steadily watched this show for a few weeks now, there are no crowns for "most intelligent" or "friendliest" or "kindest" or "nicest to old people." It breaks my heart to watch the "losers" of these pagents cry because they "weren't pretty enough." It makes me nauseous to watch them compare themselves to their peers physically.
And as if to prove my point that these pagents are doing damage, these little kids are often the nastiest specimens of human life I've ever seen. They curse, they cry when they don't get their way, they act entitled, they are often physically abusive and they cut down the other little girls as often as they can, often to the amusement of their frumpy, uneducated overbearing mothers.
I understand that T and T is manufactured for entertainment value. I get that I'm probably witnessing the extreme side of this lifestyle. I'm sure there are a small percentage of little girls that particpate that don't end up getting pregnant before they graduate Jr. High. But it's gross and I don't understand it. There will be plenty of time for these girls to be judged in the future. Why put that on the shoulders of a three year old?
I Have Never Been Pregnant, But I Could Easily Raise Your Kid
I knew to expect some unsolicited advice when I announced I was expecting. (I haven't found a term for pregnancy that I'm comfortable with. Whenever I write "expecting" I feel like I'm waiting for an online purchase to show up.) What I DIDN'T know was that a ton of that unsolicited advice would come from people who DON'T HAVE CHILDREN.
Look, I'm actually all for advice and tips. I actually really enjoy exchanging pregnancy experiences with other moms and pregnant friends. It's oddly comforting. I'll even entertain some parenting advice. Most of the time I'm totally not going to follow said advice, but every once in a while there's a nugget of info that I'm grateful for. Contrary to popular belief, however, not all first time parents are complete morons when it comes to child rearing.
Dustin and I are both the oldest in families that have much younger kids. This means that we've been around babies and toddlers and preteens for longer than a lot of parents our age. Between us we've changed thousands of diapers, been barfed on, pooped on, given suppositories, heated formula, made ba-bas, went on searches for missing pacifiers and favorite toys, driven kids to the hospital, comforted crying babies in the night, soothed boo boos and so on and so forth. Yeah, perhaps I accidentally bonked my second youngest brother's head on the doorframe a few times due to carrying him unwillingly towards the bath he didn't wanna take and once when I wasn't watching my little sister very closely she walked into a mailbox and knocked herself out...but I have a feeling these things will happen when I'm a parent too.
So to everyone out there who speaks to myself and Dustin as if we have NO idea what we're in for...we have a pretty good idea...and despite seeming a little left of center, I'm pretty sure we will have things under control most of the time.
Back to what I was saying...and I know this whole sentiment is coming off a little dicky, but like I said, I need to purge...if you've never carried a human being inside of you, please don't tell me how to manage my symptoms...and if you've never raised a child, don't presume to tell me the "right" way of doing things. Look, I realize that you don't have to carry a child to be a parent. Adoption, Fostering, being a step-parent...all totally important forms of parenting. All I'm saying is that if you've never actually CARRIED A HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF YOU...then I will not take your advice on how to manage round ligament pain or braxton hicks contractions or what my birth plan should be. (BTW, my birth plan is to get this kid out of me. That's it.)
And while I'm at it, please don't start out your statements to me with this: "You think that's bad just wait for..." I don't care how bad your kid was at 3, 9, 13, 16, etc. I don't find you wiser for your experience. Don't give me vague warnings of eminent disaster. Not interested.
Can't...Find...Descriptive...Words
I fancy myself a bit of a vocabulist. That is a word my mother made up a long time ago. It means "someone who likes to use words." She and I are self proclaimed vocabulists. I've never had a problem expressing myself. I write for fun. I read for fun. My "fights" consist of using my words to cut down my attacker. I'm not the most brilliant speller, but I think that's mildly forgivable when you're such an awesome vocabulist.
When I first heard about "Mommy Brain," I was like...okay wonderful. Stupid women across the world have an excuse when they're pregnant. But let me tell you...it's for REALS. In the last few months, I struggle on a daily basis to find words. And I'm not even talking about complex words...I have recently found myself pointing to things like bread, water and cheese like a monkey, frustrated because the names of those things were completely gone from my memory. And forget about when someone asks me to describe specific pregnancy symptoms. When I first started to feel the baby move, Dustin asked me what it felt like, and I stared at him dumbly and replied "it feels like a baby moving."
Have you ever seen "Waiting For Guffman?" It's a great movie and I highly recommend you rent it. There's a scene where Christopher Guest's character is angry with another character on the other end of the phone. He's so angry that he can't think of a good insult. He sputters out "Well then...I just...hate you...and I hate your stupid...ass face!" That's about the level of vocabulism I'm at right now. Quite annoying.
Hey Cats...Shut the Hell Up
I've complained about this before...it's not a new pregnancy related thing. I love my cats, but they have no idea how close they come to death on a nightly basis. We've been doing something a little ridiculous lately: moving the mattress into the living room to sleep. I don't know if it's the extra support of the floor rather than the door frame or the fact that I can't hear my stupid asshole neighbor stomping around next door from the living room, but I have been sleeping much better in this set up. When I sleep better, Dustin sleeps better, and everybody wins. The ONLY problem that still exists are the idiot cats.
We've somehow managed to finally train them to sleep MOST of the night. This is due in part to me keeping them up during the day with me. They now go to sleep at about 11 and wake up between 5 and 7. When they sleep til 7, it's a good day. When they're up at five, heads almost roll.
Before I go on, you're probably giggling, thinking of my screaming daughter waking me up at all hours of the night. Yeah, again, I'm not a moron, I know this is what happens with babies. I can't breast feed, rock or change my cat's diaper to get them to simmer down, however. Also, I'm fairly certain my newborn won't be loudly scratching litter for fun for 45 minutes, getting into cat wars with the other cat, meowing at the wall, standing on my head with claws out, biting my feet with fangs, or trying to eat the window blinds.
We bought a water gun, and that sort of works...but it gets them all riled up and angry. So if you spray them, you get a few minutes of silence followed by even more destructive behavior.
Judging by the fact that I still love these stupid furballs and haven't accidentally left the door open for them to escape, I have a feeling I'm gonna be a great mom.
If You Stand Any Closer To Me, I'm Gonna Punch You in the Face
People in PA have no sense of personal space. This phenom was bad in LI, but nowhere NEAR as horrible as it is here. Waitresses will pretty much sit in your lap to take your order. The person behind you at the grocery store will be able to memorize your purchases. People walking along the street at the same time as you will not only be able to smell your shampoo, but they will be able to count the freckles on the back of your neck.
Nothing makes me go from happy to punchy faster than this up your ass behavior.
And now, because this blog has made me sound like a miserable A-hole, Here is a List of Things I Really Like
This summer has been thunderstormy. Best. Weather. Ever.
Feeling the baby move. Sure, it's brought me dangerously close to wetting my pants on more than one occasion (I'm carrying very low) but it's the best feeling. It's so reassuring. And I just keep thinking of those cute little toes that I'm gonna bite.
Air Conditioning. Today was the hottest day in Scranton, nearing 100. I was unaffected and the air was only turned to 74.
Looking at Dustin. Allow me a moment of cheesiness, please. He is, after all, the father of my child. I have never looked at another human being with as much love and respect as I look at this man. Every time I see his face, I see everything I fell in love with. I love watching him walk to the apartment, determinded and strong. I love watching him sleep, even if it's loudly with his mouth open right in my face. I love feeling him snuggle up to my beach ball with legs body in the middle of the night. I love his huge hands and picture them holding my daughter, protecting her from the world. I didn't know myself or what I was capable of until I met him and I am happy and grateful to get to spend my life with him every day. Even when he farts in bed.
The Internets. Without these internets, I would be lost. I spend 80 percent of my time in my new home alone. (If you don't count cats and fetuses, but none of them are good conversationalists.) I am able to talk to my friends and family whenever I want, all day. It's keeping me sane and comforted.
TV. I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. I love TV. I always have. So much more now though. I feel like for the next three weeks I have unlimited TV in front of me and it makes me so happy.
Food. This is the only time in my life where I've allowed myself to eat without guilt. I never really restricted my diet before this, obviously, but I will admit that I would get guilty over eating too much ice cream or more than 6 tacos in a sitting. I should probably ease off the sweets, but I don't beat myself up over it. And strangely, this is the SLOWEST I've gained weight in my life.
Not Using a Blow Dryer. I recently got a haircut. I was a RELIGIOUS user of hair dye...my mother put highlights in my hair when I was 9 and I've changed the color consistently since then. I have not dyed my hair in six months and can clearly see my own, natural hair now. It's sort of a grayish, brownish, ashy blondish. And curly. I cut off the majority of the old bleached out ends and now I don't have to blow dry it into place. It just falls correctly. It's nuts. I love not sitting under that damn Satan's Breath for 30 minutes anymore.
Thinking About Christmas. Christmas is my favorite holiday and I've always wanted to have my own family to celebrate with. It's been a really long time since I've had a Christmas with toys under the tree and I can't wait to do that for my kid. This Christmas, the kid will be here. I might even send out totally lame Christmas Cards.
My legs hurt from being in one position for too long so I'm gonna stop abruptly. I thought purging would help, but I have also realized that thanks to Mommy Brain, I don't really remember what was bothering me when I started this.
If You Dress Like That...You're Asking For It...
My primary activity lately is watching television. Yeah, I know I should be doing something a little more productive...perhaps use this time to read some parenting books...or do some yoga...maybe paint a mural or learn how to bake a pie from scratch...whatever it is that good people do...but I've chosen to watch a lot of TV instead. I honestly have been feeling like crap lately, so that's my excuse, but really...I just love TV. I've been working since I was fifteen years old and this is the first time I find myself with tons of time on my hands...and with the time I have to myself dwindling by the second, don't judge me for my choices.
But as much as I love television, my tried and true shows have begun to get stale. You know you watch too much TV when you start seeing reruns of Maury that you're able to quote. Or when you know what door the good prize is behind. Or when you no longer chuckle when Judge Judy says "Put your hand down, does it sound like you're losing?" So I've had to go a little rogue with my programming choices. One show that I've recently started getting sucked into is the most horrible, terrible, no good very bad piece of crap on TV...Toddlers and Tiaras...also known as "Crazy Moms and Bratty Whores."
(Yes, I know these kids aren't whores, and it's not right to call a three year old a whore, but if I saw a 20 year old dressed/painted up like these kids, odds are that's what her profession would be.)
Alright so, the premise of this show, if you haven't seen it, is young girls (and the random boy) and their crazy moms (and the random dad) participating in pagents. For money. Being a girl and about to give birth to another girl, I have some difficulty grasping why anyone would do this to their child.
I'll admit, if I think back to my three year old self, I would probably have been drawn to the make up and dresses. But I don't think I would have been into the waxing, tanning, fake teeth, fake eyelashes, constant rehearsal and then ultimate judgement by strangers. My mother, while fitting the "crazy" requirement, luckily had enough brainpower to keep me away from this world, even though I have seen pictures of me in halloween costumes all done up and I'm positive I could have been the best looking little whore at the pagent.
But aside from the very peodo feeling I get from these pagents, I am more disgusted at the fact that these girls are being taught a terrible lesson: It REALLY matters what you look like. Having steadily watched this show for a few weeks now, there are no crowns for "most intelligent" or "friendliest" or "kindest" or "nicest to old people." It breaks my heart to watch the "losers" of these pagents cry because they "weren't pretty enough." It makes me nauseous to watch them compare themselves to their peers physically.
And as if to prove my point that these pagents are doing damage, these little kids are often the nastiest specimens of human life I've ever seen. They curse, they cry when they don't get their way, they act entitled, they are often physically abusive and they cut down the other little girls as often as they can, often to the amusement of their frumpy, uneducated overbearing mothers.
I understand that T and T is manufactured for entertainment value. I get that I'm probably witnessing the extreme side of this lifestyle. I'm sure there are a small percentage of little girls that particpate that don't end up getting pregnant before they graduate Jr. High. But it's gross and I don't understand it. There will be plenty of time for these girls to be judged in the future. Why put that on the shoulders of a three year old?
I Have Never Been Pregnant, But I Could Easily Raise Your Kid
I knew to expect some unsolicited advice when I announced I was expecting. (I haven't found a term for pregnancy that I'm comfortable with. Whenever I write "expecting" I feel like I'm waiting for an online purchase to show up.) What I DIDN'T know was that a ton of that unsolicited advice would come from people who DON'T HAVE CHILDREN.
Look, I'm actually all for advice and tips. I actually really enjoy exchanging pregnancy experiences with other moms and pregnant friends. It's oddly comforting. I'll even entertain some parenting advice. Most of the time I'm totally not going to follow said advice, but every once in a while there's a nugget of info that I'm grateful for. Contrary to popular belief, however, not all first time parents are complete morons when it comes to child rearing.
Dustin and I are both the oldest in families that have much younger kids. This means that we've been around babies and toddlers and preteens for longer than a lot of parents our age. Between us we've changed thousands of diapers, been barfed on, pooped on, given suppositories, heated formula, made ba-bas, went on searches for missing pacifiers and favorite toys, driven kids to the hospital, comforted crying babies in the night, soothed boo boos and so on and so forth. Yeah, perhaps I accidentally bonked my second youngest brother's head on the doorframe a few times due to carrying him unwillingly towards the bath he didn't wanna take and once when I wasn't watching my little sister very closely she walked into a mailbox and knocked herself out...but I have a feeling these things will happen when I'm a parent too.
So to everyone out there who speaks to myself and Dustin as if we have NO idea what we're in for...we have a pretty good idea...and despite seeming a little left of center, I'm pretty sure we will have things under control most of the time.
Back to what I was saying...and I know this whole sentiment is coming off a little dicky, but like I said, I need to purge...if you've never carried a human being inside of you, please don't tell me how to manage my symptoms...and if you've never raised a child, don't presume to tell me the "right" way of doing things. Look, I realize that you don't have to carry a child to be a parent. Adoption, Fostering, being a step-parent...all totally important forms of parenting. All I'm saying is that if you've never actually CARRIED A HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF YOU...then I will not take your advice on how to manage round ligament pain or braxton hicks contractions or what my birth plan should be. (BTW, my birth plan is to get this kid out of me. That's it.)
And while I'm at it, please don't start out your statements to me with this: "You think that's bad just wait for..." I don't care how bad your kid was at 3, 9, 13, 16, etc. I don't find you wiser for your experience. Don't give me vague warnings of eminent disaster. Not interested.
Can't...Find...Descriptive...Words
I fancy myself a bit of a vocabulist. That is a word my mother made up a long time ago. It means "someone who likes to use words." She and I are self proclaimed vocabulists. I've never had a problem expressing myself. I write for fun. I read for fun. My "fights" consist of using my words to cut down my attacker. I'm not the most brilliant speller, but I think that's mildly forgivable when you're such an awesome vocabulist.
When I first heard about "Mommy Brain," I was like...okay wonderful. Stupid women across the world have an excuse when they're pregnant. But let me tell you...it's for REALS. In the last few months, I struggle on a daily basis to find words. And I'm not even talking about complex words...I have recently found myself pointing to things like bread, water and cheese like a monkey, frustrated because the names of those things were completely gone from my memory. And forget about when someone asks me to describe specific pregnancy symptoms. When I first started to feel the baby move, Dustin asked me what it felt like, and I stared at him dumbly and replied "it feels like a baby moving."
Have you ever seen "Waiting For Guffman?" It's a great movie and I highly recommend you rent it. There's a scene where Christopher Guest's character is angry with another character on the other end of the phone. He's so angry that he can't think of a good insult. He sputters out "Well then...I just...hate you...and I hate your stupid...ass face!" That's about the level of vocabulism I'm at right now. Quite annoying.
Hey Cats...Shut the Hell Up
I've complained about this before...it's not a new pregnancy related thing. I love my cats, but they have no idea how close they come to death on a nightly basis. We've been doing something a little ridiculous lately: moving the mattress into the living room to sleep. I don't know if it's the extra support of the floor rather than the door frame or the fact that I can't hear my stupid asshole neighbor stomping around next door from the living room, but I have been sleeping much better in this set up. When I sleep better, Dustin sleeps better, and everybody wins. The ONLY problem that still exists are the idiot cats.
We've somehow managed to finally train them to sleep MOST of the night. This is due in part to me keeping them up during the day with me. They now go to sleep at about 11 and wake up between 5 and 7. When they sleep til 7, it's a good day. When they're up at five, heads almost roll.
Before I go on, you're probably giggling, thinking of my screaming daughter waking me up at all hours of the night. Yeah, again, I'm not a moron, I know this is what happens with babies. I can't breast feed, rock or change my cat's diaper to get them to simmer down, however. Also, I'm fairly certain my newborn won't be loudly scratching litter for fun for 45 minutes, getting into cat wars with the other cat, meowing at the wall, standing on my head with claws out, biting my feet with fangs, or trying to eat the window blinds.
We bought a water gun, and that sort of works...but it gets them all riled up and angry. So if you spray them, you get a few minutes of silence followed by even more destructive behavior.
Judging by the fact that I still love these stupid furballs and haven't accidentally left the door open for them to escape, I have a feeling I'm gonna be a great mom.
If You Stand Any Closer To Me, I'm Gonna Punch You in the Face
People in PA have no sense of personal space. This phenom was bad in LI, but nowhere NEAR as horrible as it is here. Waitresses will pretty much sit in your lap to take your order. The person behind you at the grocery store will be able to memorize your purchases. People walking along the street at the same time as you will not only be able to smell your shampoo, but they will be able to count the freckles on the back of your neck.
Nothing makes me go from happy to punchy faster than this up your ass behavior.
And now, because this blog has made me sound like a miserable A-hole, Here is a List of Things I Really Like
This summer has been thunderstormy. Best. Weather. Ever.
Feeling the baby move. Sure, it's brought me dangerously close to wetting my pants on more than one occasion (I'm carrying very low) but it's the best feeling. It's so reassuring. And I just keep thinking of those cute little toes that I'm gonna bite.
Air Conditioning. Today was the hottest day in Scranton, nearing 100. I was unaffected and the air was only turned to 74.
Looking at Dustin. Allow me a moment of cheesiness, please. He is, after all, the father of my child. I have never looked at another human being with as much love and respect as I look at this man. Every time I see his face, I see everything I fell in love with. I love watching him walk to the apartment, determinded and strong. I love watching him sleep, even if it's loudly with his mouth open right in my face. I love feeling him snuggle up to my beach ball with legs body in the middle of the night. I love his huge hands and picture them holding my daughter, protecting her from the world. I didn't know myself or what I was capable of until I met him and I am happy and grateful to get to spend my life with him every day. Even when he farts in bed.
The Internets. Without these internets, I would be lost. I spend 80 percent of my time in my new home alone. (If you don't count cats and fetuses, but none of them are good conversationalists.) I am able to talk to my friends and family whenever I want, all day. It's keeping me sane and comforted.
TV. I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. I love TV. I always have. So much more now though. I feel like for the next three weeks I have unlimited TV in front of me and it makes me so happy.
Food. This is the only time in my life where I've allowed myself to eat without guilt. I never really restricted my diet before this, obviously, but I will admit that I would get guilty over eating too much ice cream or more than 6 tacos in a sitting. I should probably ease off the sweets, but I don't beat myself up over it. And strangely, this is the SLOWEST I've gained weight in my life.
Not Using a Blow Dryer. I recently got a haircut. I was a RELIGIOUS user of hair dye...my mother put highlights in my hair when I was 9 and I've changed the color consistently since then. I have not dyed my hair in six months and can clearly see my own, natural hair now. It's sort of a grayish, brownish, ashy blondish. And curly. I cut off the majority of the old bleached out ends and now I don't have to blow dry it into place. It just falls correctly. It's nuts. I love not sitting under that damn Satan's Breath for 30 minutes anymore.
Thinking About Christmas. Christmas is my favorite holiday and I've always wanted to have my own family to celebrate with. It's been a really long time since I've had a Christmas with toys under the tree and I can't wait to do that for my kid. This Christmas, the kid will be here. I might even send out totally lame Christmas Cards.
My legs hurt from being in one position for too long so I'm gonna stop abruptly. I thought purging would help, but I have also realized that thanks to Mommy Brain, I don't really remember what was bothering me when I started this.
Monday, July 11, 2011
BRAWNDO...IT'S GOT WHAT BABIES CRAVE
The title of this blog is inspired by the movie "Idiocracy." It did not get the best reviews, but it cracks me up every time I watch it. If you like silliness and crude humor, you must go rent it immediately.
When I was little, whenever I would get hurt or upset, my father's cure all was a "cool glass of water." Fight with your sister? Have a cool glass of water. Papercut? Have a cool glass of water. Monsters under the bed? Cool Water. Arm fell off? Have a cool glass of water.
It became a family joke. When my little brother Sean showed up when I was eleven, he was requesting a "cool glass of water" on his own by the time he was two. As adults, we would all tease each other that all you needed was a cool glass of water, no matter what was wrong with you.
So, it would stand to reason that I, above all people, would know the benefits of staying hydrated...right?
Clearly, I am learning disabled.
A good friend of mine, Danielle, happens to be a month further along in her pregnancy than me. I have been so grateful to have someone to go through this with, even if it's long distance. I am not speaking to my mother or anyone on her side of the family, and this has been a sort of lonely experience for me with no women around. Danielle and I were very close in High School, but as things go, we lost touch in the years since then. When I was six weeks and she was eleven, we learned about each other's pregnancies. (I think even before we went public.) Having her just an internet connection away has been something I will ALWAYS be thankful for...just one of those little gifts from the universe to help me through this scary time.
Danielle being a month ahead of me has been great because everything she goes through, I know to look out for. Our pregnancies have been quite different...and we guessed early on that we were having opposite sexes. (This was confirmed...and for the record Danielle, I am not above organizing an arranged marriage.) We've talked about every last detail of our experiences, from the gross to the funny to the scary, and very early on Danielle said something that has become my mantra in this pregnancy:
If something is wrong, you will know it.
It is VERY easy to get yourself worked up when you're pregnant. The "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book might as well be titled "Your Pregnancy Guide to a Panic Attack." The internet is CHOCK FULL of horror stories for each stage of pregnancy...from etopic pregnancies to preterm labor to all of the horrible things that can go wrong during birth and beyond. Add this age of information to being a first time mom to having normal pregnancy pains...to being someone who has struggled with anxiety their entire life and you have...well...me.
I can remember having anxiety at like three years old. I am a worrier. I've gone from worrying whether or not my stuffed animals were unable to breathe because of the angle of their floppy heads to convincing myself on a daily basis that I'm losing my baby. If you have anxiety, you know that it starts as a gnawing, looping thought and progresses into an irrational conclusion that you cannot ignore or be talked out of:
I haven't felt the baby in a while. Hm, it's been a while since I felt the baby. Why haven't I felt the baby? Maybe if I press here I'll feel the baby. Man I still haven't felt this baby. God, please let me feel the baby! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE BABY??? OH MY GOD THE BABY IS GONE!!!
So essentially, for the past 24 weeks, every day, I put myself through this. This weekend it reached a breaking point.
I've been in discomfort the past two or three weeks. I've grown to epic proportions very quickly, my back is hurting, my stomach is hurting and, most disturbingly, I've had an unrelenting tightness in my lower abdomen that can range from mildly uncomfortable to painful.
I immediately head to the internet when there's something weird going on. Big mistake. I have found that most people go to the internet with extremes. You don't often stumble across other's personal experiences that say things like, "Today was ok. Everything is normal. Nothing to report." You come across sentiments like "This was the worst hotel I've ever stayed in," or "This restaurant had the best steak I've ever tasted," or "I miscarried 19 times and then had a baby with four heads."
So of COURSE when I google my symptoms, I self diagnose that I'm in preterm labor. Now, I'm a smart woman. I am perfectly aware that the symptoms I'm experiencing COULD be preterm labor, but they could also be normal, annoying symptoms of pregnancy.
I've been EXTREMELY lucky. I have had little to no symptoms up until now. No morning sickness. No pains. No swelling. No bloating. (I will admit that I had pretty severe mood swings in the very beginning, but Dustin and I are pretending that never happened.) But physically, I've never gone through this before and I have no frame of reference. Every twinge and pain and stretch I feel is cause for concern...and the horrible thing is I know it's only gonna get worse.
A few days ago, Danielle posted on Facebook "Seven months pregnant in the summer...not cute." I feel her pain so so much. The heat is a pregnant lady's biggest enemy. You're already a degree or two above normal, terribly uncomfortable no matter what you're wearing and unable to move with the same fluidity you once could. You literally don't want to move. At all. I find myself lucky enough to be able to hide in the AC most of the day, but even short trips outside make me wanna die. Combine the heat with the fact that I did not learn anything from my father about the benefits of a cool glass of water and you have a panic inducing situation on your hands.
After spending this weekend alternating between crying out of fear and laying down in discomfort, I decided to call my doctor this morning. My new practice is awesome. They got me on the phone with a nurse who listened to my complaints. Tightness in stomach. Back pain. Painful pulling sensation. She had the following advice:
1. Get off the internet.
2. Get off your feet.
3. Take a tylenol.
4. Drink as much liquid as you can.
For the first time in my life, I listened to a medical professional. I drank 32 ounces of gatorade and a liter and a half of water...and wouldn't you know it...the pesky pulling in my gut eased up a little bit for the first time in the better part of a month.
I feel so stupid. All I needed was a cool glass of water.
When I was little, whenever I would get hurt or upset, my father's cure all was a "cool glass of water." Fight with your sister? Have a cool glass of water. Papercut? Have a cool glass of water. Monsters under the bed? Cool Water. Arm fell off? Have a cool glass of water.
It became a family joke. When my little brother Sean showed up when I was eleven, he was requesting a "cool glass of water" on his own by the time he was two. As adults, we would all tease each other that all you needed was a cool glass of water, no matter what was wrong with you.
So, it would stand to reason that I, above all people, would know the benefits of staying hydrated...right?
Clearly, I am learning disabled.
A good friend of mine, Danielle, happens to be a month further along in her pregnancy than me. I have been so grateful to have someone to go through this with, even if it's long distance. I am not speaking to my mother or anyone on her side of the family, and this has been a sort of lonely experience for me with no women around. Danielle and I were very close in High School, but as things go, we lost touch in the years since then. When I was six weeks and she was eleven, we learned about each other's pregnancies. (I think even before we went public.) Having her just an internet connection away has been something I will ALWAYS be thankful for...just one of those little gifts from the universe to help me through this scary time.
Danielle being a month ahead of me has been great because everything she goes through, I know to look out for. Our pregnancies have been quite different...and we guessed early on that we were having opposite sexes. (This was confirmed...and for the record Danielle, I am not above organizing an arranged marriage.) We've talked about every last detail of our experiences, from the gross to the funny to the scary, and very early on Danielle said something that has become my mantra in this pregnancy:
If something is wrong, you will know it.
It is VERY easy to get yourself worked up when you're pregnant. The "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book might as well be titled "Your Pregnancy Guide to a Panic Attack." The internet is CHOCK FULL of horror stories for each stage of pregnancy...from etopic pregnancies to preterm labor to all of the horrible things that can go wrong during birth and beyond. Add this age of information to being a first time mom to having normal pregnancy pains...to being someone who has struggled with anxiety their entire life and you have...well...me.
I can remember having anxiety at like three years old. I am a worrier. I've gone from worrying whether or not my stuffed animals were unable to breathe because of the angle of their floppy heads to convincing myself on a daily basis that I'm losing my baby. If you have anxiety, you know that it starts as a gnawing, looping thought and progresses into an irrational conclusion that you cannot ignore or be talked out of:
I haven't felt the baby in a while. Hm, it's been a while since I felt the baby. Why haven't I felt the baby? Maybe if I press here I'll feel the baby. Man I still haven't felt this baby. God, please let me feel the baby! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE BABY??? OH MY GOD THE BABY IS GONE!!!
So essentially, for the past 24 weeks, every day, I put myself through this. This weekend it reached a breaking point.
I've been in discomfort the past two or three weeks. I've grown to epic proportions very quickly, my back is hurting, my stomach is hurting and, most disturbingly, I've had an unrelenting tightness in my lower abdomen that can range from mildly uncomfortable to painful.
I immediately head to the internet when there's something weird going on. Big mistake. I have found that most people go to the internet with extremes. You don't often stumble across other's personal experiences that say things like, "Today was ok. Everything is normal. Nothing to report." You come across sentiments like "This was the worst hotel I've ever stayed in," or "This restaurant had the best steak I've ever tasted," or "I miscarried 19 times and then had a baby with four heads."
So of COURSE when I google my symptoms, I self diagnose that I'm in preterm labor. Now, I'm a smart woman. I am perfectly aware that the symptoms I'm experiencing COULD be preterm labor, but they could also be normal, annoying symptoms of pregnancy.
I've been EXTREMELY lucky. I have had little to no symptoms up until now. No morning sickness. No pains. No swelling. No bloating. (I will admit that I had pretty severe mood swings in the very beginning, but Dustin and I are pretending that never happened.) But physically, I've never gone through this before and I have no frame of reference. Every twinge and pain and stretch I feel is cause for concern...and the horrible thing is I know it's only gonna get worse.
A few days ago, Danielle posted on Facebook "Seven months pregnant in the summer...not cute." I feel her pain so so much. The heat is a pregnant lady's biggest enemy. You're already a degree or two above normal, terribly uncomfortable no matter what you're wearing and unable to move with the same fluidity you once could. You literally don't want to move. At all. I find myself lucky enough to be able to hide in the AC most of the day, but even short trips outside make me wanna die. Combine the heat with the fact that I did not learn anything from my father about the benefits of a cool glass of water and you have a panic inducing situation on your hands.
After spending this weekend alternating between crying out of fear and laying down in discomfort, I decided to call my doctor this morning. My new practice is awesome. They got me on the phone with a nurse who listened to my complaints. Tightness in stomach. Back pain. Painful pulling sensation. She had the following advice:
1. Get off the internet.
2. Get off your feet.
3. Take a tylenol.
4. Drink as much liquid as you can.
For the first time in my life, I listened to a medical professional. I drank 32 ounces of gatorade and a liter and a half of water...and wouldn't you know it...the pesky pulling in my gut eased up a little bit for the first time in the better part of a month.
I feel so stupid. All I needed was a cool glass of water.
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