Tag Archives: Pregnancy

Vaginal Rhymes

Posted on January 14, 2012 | 1 comment

Something about being with MQD at the midwives’ office makes us both giggle like teenagers.  We sit down and try to have have this sort of “Look at us, we’re grown ups” kind of conversation while we wait but it never lasts.  Within minutes we are examining the pictures on the walls and giggling.  In the exam room the other day there was a quilt on the wall.  It showed a woman’s reproductive system at various times through a pregnancy.

I pointed out to him my favorite square on the quilt.  “I’ve always thought that square looks kind of like a monster…  oooohhh….. don’t be frightened by my falllllooooopiaaaannnn tuuuubes….”

If you are lucky in love there are moments when everything else fades away just like the movies and you have tunnel vision on your beloved…  All you see is this person whom you adore and there is nowhere you’d rather be.

That’s what happened moments after MQD said. “No.  Not a monster.  It looks like a rapper…. counting down the centimeters you are dilated.  ONE centimeter… TWO centimeters… ” and he slid his hand back and forth, making the “wikkee-wikkee” international sign for record scratching.

Sigh… that, friends, is how you know someone is “the one.”

 

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The Overshare of Overshares

Posted on January 13, 2012 | 13 comments

This morning in the shower I wrote a blog post in my mind.  I’d say roughly half the time I sit down to write I have a roughed out thought process.  I have always had these little monologues in my brain.  And now if by the time I get to what seems like the end of my train of thought  it amuses me enough to write it down, I do.  If it was meaningful enough for me to not want to forget, I write it down.

The other half of the time I have no game plan and just ramble on until I feel empty.  I daresay you can tell one kind of post from the other.

And then there are the inner monologues that never see the light of day.  I wrote one of those this morning in the shower.  As I was getting out I told MQD that I had just had a blog post roll around in my head that by the time I got to the end I thought “whoa, you can’t go around saying shit like that.”

He doesn’t often encourage me to keep talking.  Especially first thing in the morning.  But he took the bait.  He asked.  And I told him.

The sensible half of this partnership, you may blame him….  Because he said “THAT is exactly the kind of thing you should write… with a picture of Ralphie  and his walking stick. All blind and shit…” and he began to act it out.

So without further ado… I give you a Public Service Announcement, brought to you by Ralphie.
An Open Letter to Blind Women and the Men and Women that errmm… Get Down with Them…

If you regularly get it on with a blind gal or if you are one and her/your bush is 80s style wild and unkempt… please,  don’t feel like that is the way things have to be.  Or that the only option is waxing by a professional.

I’m here to blow the lid off the whole “Oh, I am blind I can’t possibly be expected to  shave my bikini line and certainly not the deep downstairs, the undercarriage… (call it what you want, but I am gonna call it  a wild jungle of pubic hair) because I can’t even see down there….”  because that is some bulllllshit.

I haven’t been able to see what is going on downstairs for the last six weeks.  At least.  And I can guarandamntee it does not resemble its formers self (thanks so much excessive blood flow and hormones and all the other gross things that happen inside and out to your nether regions during pregnancy) but you know what?  Without the benefit of seeing I can still put one foot up on the side of the tub and keep things tidy.  You just gotta visualize, people.  And use a new razor.

So, if you’re a blind gal  and you think you can coast on through life thinking that it is outside the realm of possibility for you to have a nice and tidy undercarriage… you are just lazy.  And timid. Because I am here to tell you that it can be done.

I am ready for my close up.  Come out, come out wherever you are, Baby D.  Mama is camera ready.  This is as good as it gets.  A brand new Mach 3 blade was brought out just for you. Nothin’s holding you back but you, kid.

End of PSA

Editor’s Note:  It is official.  I have lost my damn mind.  39 weeks and five days pregnant.  And I am off my rocker.  But so is MQD, because Ralphie was his idea, and that really might be the creepiest thing about this PSA, the choice of spokesperson.

Just in case you’re playing along at home on some kind of weird board game like Life with the stages and phases of pregnancy and labor on it… Chiropractor to get hips aligned.  Check.  Acupuncture to get labor started.  Check.  40 week exam (and the first internal exam I have had since my initial  appointment at the birthing center, thank you very much, midwives) reveals me to be 3 cm dilated and 50% effaced.

And you thought it was oversharing when I posted a picture of my IUD.  Pfffttt.  Puhleazze.

This is what you look like if you start reading "Truly Tasteless Joke Books" when you are 10 years old. You might have the good sense to hide your face. But you're still gonna say it. Whatever comes to mind...


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Curfew

Posted on January 12, 2012 | 10 comments

They say that babies respond best to high contrasting colors.  Hence the influx of black and white graphic images on baby toys these days.

So, I am sending out a postcard to Baby D. 

Listen up, Baby D.  If you think you are gonna stroll in this house one minute past January 15th and have everyone say “Ohh, so cute, look at the babyyy!!” you have another thing coming.  January.  15th.  Not the 16th.  Not the 17th.  Not “on my way, but running late…”  January.  15th.  We had a deal. 

Actually, call if you’re gonna be early.  I might be taking a walk.  Or trying to have sex.  Or stimulating my nipples or some other labor-inducing nonsense and that would just be weird for everyone. 

Now.  Do what you need to do. Have fun.  Be home on Sunday.  Got it?

Love, Mom

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When M&Ms won’t cut it….

Posted on January 11, 2012 | 9 comments

If you read pregnancy blogs or books (or even an Iphone app I have been using) you know that everyone suggests that the expecting mom and her partner make sure to take time for themselves before the birth of their baby.  They suggest a “second trimester get-away.”  After the sleepiness of the first trimester and before the third trimester uncomfortable-ness sets in, I guess,  the happy couple is supposed to head off to a bed and breakfast and bask in the joy of their impending bundle.  I can’t really wrap my mind around that.

 To me, that translates in to an overpriced weekend away in a time when Baby Budgeting is all consuming.  A weekend away where I can’t have a glass of wine, I may or may not get what I want to eat and I might fall asleep before I even remember to get laid.  No, thanks.

MQD and I have mini-dates all of the time instead.  They tend to last about an hour and take place while Em is either in bed for the night or having dinner across the street.  And tonight we had a sneak attack date.  My favorite kind.  Em had an invite for dinner so MQD and I did what any two red blooded newlyweds would do.

We went to the grocery store.  First we smooched in the kitchen and made some inappropriate jokes at our pets, and then I invited him to tag along with me while I ran out for a frozen pizza.    Can you have a better time?

Yeah.  You can.  At 39 weeks pregnant M&Ms will do the trick.  But at 39.5 weeks… you need Pizza. And Turtle Pie.  And Nachos.  And Oreos.

Last Hurrah

As we walked towards the check out we were giggling like a couple of freewheeling twentysomethings without a care in the world.  MQD looks around, evidently failing to take note of my pregnancy waddle and says “Do we look high?”

I burst in to giggles.  We unloaded our “groceries” and examined our bounty, as if one item would jump off the conveyor belt and answer the question he had posed.

“It’s not the food, Mike… it’s your slippers.”

Best Date Ever

 I couldn’t have asked for a better time.  Pizza, nachos, oreos, pie and giggles.  It’s not lost on me that at 39.5 weeks pregnant the Best Date Ever has all the ingredients of a 12 year old’s slumber party.

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Love & Marriage

Posted on January 10, 2012 | 11 comments

Love and marriage… go together like assorted maxi pads and M&Ms?  Somehow I don’t think that is what Frank Sinatra had in mind when he said “horse and carriage.”

But that about sums it up as far as I am concerned.

The other night I stood in the hallway between our bedroom and our living room.  Our beautiful new king sized bed in our lovely bedroom called my name.  But my husband, sitting on our new couch in our new living room… he looked pretty cute, too.  We are still newlyweds, afterall.  The siren’s call of our bed won me over so I inquired “Will you come and sit with me for a minute?   I’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

He rose from the couch and went to get me a glass of water.  Grabbed my Tums off the kitchen counter as he returned, placing them both next to my side of the bed.  He climbed in to bed next to me and began to laugh.  “You know we have only been married for nine months?”

Without even thinking how it might be received I blurted out “It seems like SO much longer than that.”

He smiled and said “Well, I am glad you feel that way, too…”

It has been a whirlwind of a year.  Last winter we were finalizing wedding plans.  And a year later we are in our new house, married, our daughter climbing on to the school bus at the base of our driveway every morning, waiting on the birth of our baby.

If your life has to resemble a Talking Heads song better “Once in a Lifetime”  (And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife and you may ask yourself— Well…How did I get here?) than “Life During Wartime” (This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, This ain’t no fooling around, No time for dancing or lovey dovey, I ain’t got time for that now!!!)

So, what does this have to do with maxipads and M&Ms?

The other evening I tucked Em in to bed and snuck back downstairs.  In to the medicine cabinet in our bedroom I went.

There was a time in my life when the master bedroom medicine cabinet was a treasure trove of good times.  Need to sleep?  Wake up?  Get happy?  Chill out? Get psyched?  I gotcha.

And now this.  I paused as I opened the door and snapped the picture above.  And then I listened for little feet before I snagged the bag of M&Ms that MQD had hidden for me.  Had to make sure that no one would bust me ripping the bag open.  There in my medicine cabinet is everything I need to feel great. Big maxi pads, small maxipads, lanolin for sore nipples, breast pads for leaky boobs, my favorite face soap… and a bag of peanut  M&Ms.

It’s no secret I am not exactly feeling great lately.  I am DONE being pregnant.  Finished.  Ready to trade the low throbbing all day pelvic bone pain for the pains of labor. Ready to hold this baby in my arms, instead of between my thighs (or at least that is how it feels, so help me every time I get up I feel like a baby is sure to fall out and hit the floor, if only it were that easy.)

But this morning… this morning I felt great.  Super.  Awesome.  Like today is gonna be cool. It might even be okay if I stay pregnant through the next TWO or even THREE days… because the M&Ms… they are multiplying. I don’t think it is magic. I think it is Love & Marriage.

 

Love & Marriage

I love you, MQD.  It has been one hell of a ride, these last nine months.  We laughed when we started looking at real estate that we were out of minds to get married,  have a baby and buy a house all in one year.  But give us a few more days… and we’ll have made it.  Relatively unscathed.  I know I am no picnic.  And I know it might have felt more like Wartime than Once in a Lifetime at times… but the best days are still ahead of us, sweetheart.  Hang in there, we got this.  And keep stocking the medicine cabinet. xxoo

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Elephantitis of the Ankles

Posted on January 8, 2012 | 3 comments

“My feet look like elephant feet.”

As I struggled to get out of the car I dropped something.  For the 800th time today.  “I’m a mess,” I mumble to no one in particular.

From the back seat Em chimes in “And you can’t stop saying shit.”

Without missing a beat MQD says “You’re already Mother of the Year, only eight days in.”

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All Through the Night

Posted on January 8, 2012 | Leave a comment

Eventually I had to leave the late 1970s behind.  As inspirational as they may be.

This morning’s revelation is brought to you by 1984.  Cyndi Lauper’s “She’s  So Unusual” was crucial to my development.  Of course “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” was a big hit, but it was “Time After Time” that really touched me as a kid.  Even as an eight year old I liked to sit in my room occasionally and wax poetic.  Throwing myself to the ground passionately as I sang along “If you fall I will catch you…”

But not until I had Emily did “All Through the Night” go through my head over and over again.  Night after night, dare I say it, time after time.

All through the night
I’ll be awake and I’ll be with you
All through the night
This precious time when time is new …

The last few nights have been sleepless reminders of her newborn days.  The tossing and turning of pregnancy is tolerable.  There are moments, sometimes hours of deep sleep, peppered with trips to the bathroom and uncomfortable rolling over and rearranging of pillows.  But there is sleep.  These last few nights, however, have been long trials.  Preparation so my body can remember it’s amazing ability to function on “rest.”

Last night I encouraged MQD to go ahead and head out to see our friends.  His Saturday night outings may be few and far between in the coming months.  I climbed in to bed alone and could feel the impending discomfort of another sleepless night. The thought crossed my mind that I won’t probably sleep all through the night until I had a baby in my arms.  And then I had to laugh. Because surely I will not sleep then, either.

But last night.  Last night I slept.  With my baby in my arms.  All through the night.   I had to wake her.  And hold her hand as she stumbled down the stairs.    She climbed up in my bed and was asleep almost instantly.  But not before she said “I love you, Mommy.”

And I love you, baby girl.  Thank you for the good night’s sleep.

Always.  You will always be my baby girl.

 

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Welcome Back…

Posted on January 6, 2012 | 4 comments

A recent trend on facebook has people looking up the #1 song on the American  Billboard the week of their birth.  1976 was a great year for popular music.  Earth, Wind & Fire, Queen, Parliament, Paul McCartney, The BeeGees, The Who, Thin Lizzy, Neil Sedaka.  There was something for everyone.

So, I googled and waited patiently.  Expecting to find a long forgotten hit song or maybe an old favorite, a KC & The Sunshine Band song if I was lucky.  I have laughed along with many of my friends as they have posted the song from their birthday week, some of which have been more foretelling than their parents might have guessed at the time.

And what did I find?  John Sebastian’s Welcome Back.   Yup.  A TV theme song.  At first I wasn’t thrilled that it was a song to celebrate the return of Gabe Kotter to the classroom that heralded my birth.  (Although a soft spot for Vinnie Barbarino and the rest of the Sweathogs surely exists in me.) But the more I think about it, the more I think it’s perfect.

And even more perfect that I listened to this song last night.

Because I am ready to welcome someone back to my life.  I don’t buy in to all the spiritual new age woo that you might think.  But that which I do believe, I believe with my whole heart.   And if there is one thing that I know it is that your children, they are and have always been yours.

Genetically speaking, of course, they could belong to no one else, but I think the parental bond goes beyond genetics.  Even more than I believe MQD and I were meant to be together (and I do think that forces stronger than my desire to have a perfect blind date brought  him to me) I believe that he and Emily knew one another before this life.  I look at the way she looks at him, and the way that he loves her with all of his being and I see it.

The moment Emily was born, the first time I looked at her it didn’t feel like we just met.  I had known her all my life.  Just as she had been waiting for me, for the right time. To come back.

Welcome back,
Your dreams were your ticket out.
Welcome back,
To that same old place that you laughed about.
Well the names have all changed since you hung around,
But those dreams have remained and they’re turned around.
Who’d have thought they’d lead ya…
Here where we need ya…

Well, I did.  I knew they’d lead her to me.  Just as I know that Baby D is right on time.

This morning I woke from a dream a little startled.  In the last 36 hours Baby D has dropped and I can breathe.  And I can sleep.  And apparently I can roll over a tiny bit more to one side than I could before because when I woke, pillow between my knees like a good pregnant sleeper I was just slightly more turned towards my stomach than I have been in recent weeks.   And for a moment instead of worrying that I was no longer pregnant I thought “Where’s the Baby?”

It happened.  Baby D became a baby instead of a pregnancy.  The other day it was KC’s cheesy ballad “Yes, I’m Ready” that made me think I was finally prepared.  And this morning, it was ABC’s Welcome Back, Kotter that made me know it’s almost time.  Just in case there was any doubt I am truly a product of late 1970’s pop culture.

So, c’mon, Baby D…. your dreams and mine, that’s your ticket out.  We’re here.  Waiting to welcome you back.

 

 

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Pregnancy Brain

Posted on January 3, 2012 | 12 comments

This morning I snapped a picture of the bag I packed last night. Packing the bag to take to the birth center has me a little flipped out.  I am not a girl that prepares for things ahead of time typically. And I most certainly do not pack in advance.  I like to start packing at 11:30 pm, somewhere around the middle of the second bottle of wine, for a longer trip.   Or while everyone is getting in the car I like to rush around and throw some things in a bag as I race out the door for  a long weekend.

So once I get packed, it means it is time to go. Or at least that is how my brain works.

So, as I prepared to leave the house this morning I made sure to take a picture.  Because I could have the baby any second.  I could  go in to labor.  Today.  Because I am packed.  Which means it is time to go.

And I thought about that as I made coffee.  As I put my lunch in my lunch bag. As I started the dishwasher.  As I locked the side door and said “Hop in the car, Fish.”

And I started to kinda mentally map out a little blog post about how the bag in our bedroom was giving me the creeps.

And maybe that was what I was thinking when I started to back straight down my driveway.  In to a ditch.

Straight down my not exactly straight driveway.  In to a ditch.  And a tree.

I sat there for a moment.  Stunned.  And then I started to laugh. Well, that’s some Pregnancy Brain right there.  Is there really any need to debate whether or not it is a real thing?  I can’t even back out of my own damn driveway? This was certainly better blog fodder than a picture of a black Eddie Bauer gym bag.

I was calm and cool until  while on the phone with MQD a woman stopped and looked at me, with pity, and asked me if I was okay.

And then I fell apart.  And I cried and told MQD I didn’t know what I was going to do.  That it was cold outside!!!  He calmly told me to go inside . Our house. Since I was in the driveway.  And call AAA.

Of course, AAA. I forget about AAA.  Because I do not prepare for things.  Like minor car troubles.  Or needing a tow.  Or going in to labor.  But I guess I do now.  Because I have a bag packed.  And a picture of our AAA card saved on my phone.  Texted to me by my patient husband.  As I tried to figure out how I was going to stay warm.  While standing in my driveway.  Staring at my car.

The chances are pretty good I won’t put my car in a ditch any time soon.  Since I have the number for AAA in my phone now. So, I wait.  And try not to think about the fact that since I have a bag packed…. I might never have this damn baby.

 

 

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A little bit creepy….

Posted on January 2, 2012 | 3 comments

In preparation for attending Baby D’s arrival in to the world Emily and I have been watching some birth videos.  This morning I told her that she doesn’t have to be brave, she can just tell me what she really thinks.  “I think I want to be brave, but it might just get too creepy.  Like when the vagina just grows and grows… because you know it is going to have to get HUGE.”

Creepy?  I’ll give her creepy….. the kid is a shark.  She is growing a second row of  teeth BEHIND her baby teeth.

But I still made her cookies and let her flop on the couch and watch Annie on the iPad.  I mean… it IS kind of creepy.  All those HUGE vaginas.

Maybe there is room for me under that blanket…

 

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