35 Weeks

It's getting to that point. That point where women start to complain that they just want the baby OUT already. I'm 5 weeks (or less?) away and I am so effing tired.

I look and feel silly. Honestly, I haven't had many body issues with this pregnancy and I still don't, but when I see myself in a mirror or a photo, I just look SO disproportioned to myself that it's comical. I grunt when I sit. I need help to get off the couch or out of bed. I have a hard time driving now. I don't feel ugly, just silly.

I want to be able to reach my feet without horrible pain. (They don't tell you that having a belly in the way all the time HURTS. A LOT.) I want to eat real food without counting carbs or feeling guilty. I want to be able to do normal things like vacuum the carpet without being in pain later.

Not that I'm ready, or anything. The apartment still feels filthy and I literally cannot do half of the things that need to be done. Matt, in typical guy fashion, thinks that the livingroom is clean because the rug was vacuumed. He thinks that "all" of the laundry really means "some" of the laundry. So we have a lot of arguments lately where I ask him to help me do something, and he huffs and puffs because it's more involved than he wants it to be. So then I get pissed off and try to just do it myself because it would be easier than putting up with his moping, and consequently hurt myself. (I can wash and fold laundry just fine, but I can't carry it down the hall. I can sweep the floor under the couch, but I can't move the couch to do so. Rinse, repeat.)

We do this Every. Weekend. Seriously.

I don't want to go to work anymore. Getting there is such a pain. Getting home is such a pain. I get nothing done around the house because I have no motivation to do chores in the hour or two I'm awake before I leave for work. And the few times I WAS motivated to do a lot before work, I ended up dozing off at my desk later. And on the weekend, as noted above, I end up arguing about doing things more so than doing them. I need a maid. Just for one day.

I was going to try to write about something funny, but nothing is funny lately.

Sorry.

34 weeks

I hate. Hate. Hate. Going to several different doctors for the same problem.

Because when they all tell you different things, (and they will,) which one do you believe?

Went to the perinatology/OBGYN dept of the hospital today for an ultrasound. Baby looks healthy, supposedly has lots of hair, is definitely head down, and weighs in at approximately 4 lbs 15 oz. This is supposed to be about perfect for her gestational age, so that means so far the gestation diabetes has not affected her size.

While my OB feels that my weight gain has been perfectly healthy at 15 lbs so far, the perinatologist tells me I haven't gained enough and should have gained 30 lbs by now. Who is correct? I don't have a clue.

Also, if the baby gains a steady 1/2 pound per week and I get to 40 weeks, she will weigh close to 8 lbs. My OB says I should be fine with anything under 10 to deliver normally, and really, only about 9% of first time moms need a c-section. The perinatologist says I will probably have a c-section. Who is correct? I'm leaning towards my OB because ultimately, that's his call and he'll be doing the cutting. (**shudders**) That, and I really really don't want a c-section unless it is absolutely medically necessary. I would be pissed as hell if a doctor decided to just cut me open because he got tired of waiting.

Everyone agrees that my sugar looks pretty good. And unless more complications arise, I shouldn't have to be delivered early. So, first week of February at the latest. 6 weeks to go.

Holy crap.

33 Weeks

Only 7 weeks left to go. Maybe.

I went to the doctor on Wednesday and found out that from here on out I will have weekly non-stress tests because of the gestational diabetes. No big deal...it was kind of cool to see how her heartbeat elevated every time she moved on the little chart.

I'm supposed to go see a perinatologist for a new ultrasound to check her growth, and depending what they say about that and my blood sugar levels, we'll decide if I need to go on insulin and if I need to be induced before my due date. As of right now I will not be allowed to go past my due date - he has it in mind to induce me no later than Feb 1.

I'm still waiting to hear from the perinatologist about when they can get me in. There has been a paperwork snaffu that I've been trying to work out since Wednesday...hopefully I won't fall through anymore cracks and I'll have an appointment set up by Monday.

Also, while I was at the doctor, I talked to him about some issues I have been having with out of control irritability, anger and depression, notably since I was diagnosed with the diabetes. At first he tried to blow me off, which really frustrated me, because it took a lot for me to even bring it up. I almost didn't because I was afraid he wouldn't take me seriously. And I think that's part of the reason that a lot of women don't get the help they need...they're afraid the doctor will blow them off and tell them it's normal, when they know that it isn't. I finally convinced him that being sad all the time, not wanting to leave the house, see anyone, or eat, and having uncontrollable anger for no apparent reason, was not okay for me. And that I didn't want to wait until a couple of weeks after the baby is born, and we're having bonding issues, to deal with it as PPD.

Thankfully Matt was there with me. Finally the doctor turned to Matt and asked him how bad it was, really. And poor Matt, who has been awesome lately and who hasn't said a word to me about my attitude, told him that yes, it really was bad.

I figured he was going to refer me to a therapist or something, which would have been fine, but he actually prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft. I took one yesterday before work...and once the sleepiness wore off (holy cow) I felt a lot better...not goofy... I felt like I did at the beginning of my pregnancy. I realized I had been clenching my jaw for months.

I haven't taken one today, because I realized that I need to take them before bed if I want to get anything accomplished. Also, the doctor suggested I take them when I'm having a bad day, instead of taking them all the time.

$10 for a 30 day prescription is way cheaper than beer.

The countdown starts. Also, trying to win free stuff from Aunt Becky.

So today my weekly countdown is officially in the single digits. Um. Yeah. I've washed all the baby clothes and blankets and bedding. I have diapers in sizes NB to 3. I have bottles. I have bibs. I have towels and washcloths and swaddlers and receiving blankets. I have books and magazines and brochures and pamphlets. Will any of this help me? Probably not.

So, on to the winning of the free stuff. Aunt Becky is giving free stuff away if I answer some questions and post a button leading you back to her blog. This is probably pointless because Aunt Becky is one of three people who read my blog, but rules are rules.

1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?
I feel that sprinkles needlessly ruin the integrity of the ice cream. They don't taste like anything. They're there for the sole purpose of trying to make ice cream more fun. As Hank Hill would say, ice cream is fun on its own. Fudge is a completely different story.


2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?

Moist. I hate that word.

3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?

Glacial Ice or something similar, like you see on Gatorade bottles. The name would give no clues whatsoever as to how I would actually taste.

4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?

Folding clothes. But then again, I don't actually do that (except for towels and items that will wrinkle) so I don't know what I'm complaining about.

5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)

Rizzo is the first nickname I have ever had that made fun of my personality rather than my height. I appreciate that.

6) Your stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?

Queen
Billy Joel
Buddy Holly
Stray Cats
Social Distortion

I think the key is to choose artists with really large bodies of work. Queen and Billy especially not only have a lot of music to choose from, but a lot of different styles within their bodies of work. Social D is for when I'm feeling depressed about being stuck on a desert island. People say Mike Ness whines too much, and they're right. But that's what you want when you feel like crap.

7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false?

Absolutely true.

8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order will emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self?

Young self is still here...but I guess I would tell her that all that beer was going to make her fat, and that she should switch to lower calorie beverages, such as gin.

30/31 Weeks

I have been lucky so far. I really have. My doctor is awesome, I'm gaining weight at exactly the correct rate, no hemorrhoids, no waddling, no back pain.

And then.

I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. No big deal, right? Check your sugar, count your carbs. Except I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.

Horror of horrors, the injustice. The mashed potatoes. The candied yams. The stuffing. The biscuits. The corn bread. The pies. Oh, sweet heaven, the pies. All calling my name.

It was awful. If I ate a satisfying helping of any one item, I couldn't have any other items. My plate was pathetic. I had two bites of mashed potatoes. Lisa's special Thanksgiving mashed potatoes. The ones with the fresh dill. TWO BITES. I had a mouthful of stuffing and half a cheesy garlic biscuit.

I could have all the turkey and ham I wanted. I am so tired of turkey. I don't even want to think about ham.

As soon as this baby is out and safe and content and they tell me I can eat, someone is going to be sent on a mission for mashed potatoes. Lots of them.

29 Weeks

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood the past few weeks. I guess that kind of comes with the territory. According to my doctor, in another 5 weeks I'll be considered "full term"...as in, they won't try to stop labor should I happen to go into it. Freaky.

A lot of people have really specific memories from their childhood. Comedians, for instance. And my mom and uncles. (Which amounts to the same thing as comedians.) They can remember in vivid detail not just the event that occured, but also who else was involved, who said what to who, and how the whole thing played out.

I don't have that. My childhood memories are vague recollections that might be memories, and they might have been dreams. It all seems really foggy to me.

For instance...I have the feeling I wore saddle shoes a lot as a kid. I have no proof of this, because my parents didn't often photograph my feet, but it's an impression that I have. Were saddle shoes for small children a thing in the mid-1980's? Or did I watch too many episodes of Happy Days? I also seem to recall Santa visiting my house and me putting on regular clothes over the top of my pajamas to go meet him. I'm pretty sure this happened. On the other hand...the memory of my aunt buying me ice skates instead of tennis shoes? I think I made it up.

Did someone really set a hand towel on fire taking a dish out of the oven? Did my dad really run over my tricyle in the driveway and then bring it in the house, lay on the floor next to its poor mangled body, laughing hysterically? Did we really have mice at some point? Did I bite down on a glass cup and break it? I don't know. It's all fuzzy.

Even as an older kid - I have memories of how a yearly tradition would make me feel, but no real specific recollections. No particular Halloween or Christmas stands out in my mind. They all kind of melt together. I remember for a few years running we had a pool. I remember sharing a room with my baby brother, who screamed a lot, until my pink room was finished. I remember my brother generally being someone I didn't care to associate with until he was about 10. But I don't remember any specific day, or event, or who said what to whom about what. I remember sitting on the porch to watch thunderstorms...after we got a new porch courtesy of a thunderstorm. But I don't remember the thunderstorm that took out the old front porch. I don't specifically remember anything that happened when my Aunt lived with us...just a pink afghan and the phone being tied up a lot. Or when my Uncle lived in that room. All I remember is the way his 20 million colognes smelled. (Horrible.)

I wonder which one is more normal...the blurry childhood or the crystal clear one?

28 Weeks

So yeah, everyone at work seems to think I've grown overnight. I don't know if I've really gotten that much bigger recently, or if it's because I stopped bringing in my lap blanket. (They finally turned off the air conditioning in the building.)

Went to the mall last week and bought some maternity clothes - I only had 1 pair of long pants, and no sweaters that fit me, so that was fun. Can someone tell me why the waistbands of maternity pants are always navy blue? This really bothers me. Because if I'm wearing a shirt that doesn't correspond with navy, and some of the waistband peeks out, I can't just pass it off as an undershirt. But your only choices are navy blue and now (I think this is new) nude. The idea behind the nude waistband is that if some of it shows, it just looks like your skin. Which is just dandy, as long as you're white. Wasn't there an issue with the crayons a while back? And the band-aids? This just seems to me like a lawsuit waiting to happen. (I bought em anyway. Because, well, I really hate the navy blue ones. And I am white, after all.)

These pants come with specific instructions on how to put them on. Really? Can it really be that confusing? If I were raised by wolves, maybe I would need these instructions. But if I were raised by wolves, I probably wouldn't be at the mall shopping at Motherhood Maternity.

When you walk into this store, the staff cheerfully says "Welcome to Motherhood!" It's a little play on words, see. It bugged the crap out of me. I don't know why. They were very nice, attentive ladies and they were only doing their job. Although I was glad when someone showed up who needed to be measured for a bra, because that meant they stopped following me around. I considered buying a bra but the whole getting-felt-up-by-a-stranger-at-the-mall thing has never been appealing to me. And they would have insisted. That's just how attentive they were.

Tomorrow my cable gets hooked up. It took me two days of talking to various people at Time Warner Cable to convince them to sell me cable. They kept insisting that they were not the service provider in my area. All the other big companies insisted that they were, plus I had physical proof. ("Look, you guys have a van parked outside my building RIGHT NOW. Here, talk to Charlie.")

So if you don't hear from me for a few days, I've passed out under the influence of too many episodes of "A Baby Story".