Like a prize fighter

Ray ended up feeling a bit bruised by yesterday’s post.  Not that any of it was inaccurate or untrue, but still…I shouldn’t complain at all.  He’s been really wonderful from day one.  He’s been to every appointment, every needle stick.  He’s catering to whatever whims I have.  He makes me go lie down when I need to.  Really, practically perfect in every way. 

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Nothing much to report today.  Nothing much on my mind.  I’m not feeling quite like myself.  A little reclusive, a little grouchy, a little down.  I suspect hormones, but don’t know for sure. 

Tomorrow is my gestational diabetes test.  I think I’ll run to the bookstore tonight to get a magazine to occupy my time as I sit between jabs.  I’m horrified that I’ll end up with one of the really bad vampires.  I HATE getting my blood drawn.  I have to close my eyes and go away. 

Then Friday is my next OB appointment.  I need to remember to ask her about the heart palpitations I’ve been having.  I’ve heard from others that it’s common and can happen because of the increased volume of blood or because I’m dehydrated, anemic or have a dip in bloodpressure.  So I upped my water, am trying to eat more iron rich foods, and just sit down and put my feet up when my heart races.  It doesn’t last long and only happens a couple times during the day, but I dont’ know if it’s too long or too often.  Plus, she needs to know in case it’s an indicator of other issues. 

That’s it for today.  I’m feeling boring.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be interesting again.

Never let a hungry pregnant woman loose in a grocery store

Usually, I can grocery shop in 45 minutes.  Last night it took me an hour and a half.  Not because I didn’t have a list.  I did.  I had a good one.  With food that we actually like and will make on it.  I was just moving so FLIPPIN’ slow that it took FOREVER.  And then I managed to spend almost TWICE our usual amount.  I looked and I hadn’t picked up anything out of the ordinary and nothing in extraordinary amounts.  There were a few slightly expensive items, but nothing earth shattering.  It just tallied up and I was left there, mouth agape, wondering where I had gone wrong.

On the way home, I worked on the puzzle in my head.  When I got there, Ray helped me unpack and jokingly said he needed to set a good example for Pinchy that it was the Man’s job to always unloaded the groceries.  I, already wrapped up in my own thoughts, whirrled around to glare at him and ask exactly WHAT he meant by that, but then I realized he was joking.  I calmed down instantly, but bashfully admitted that my mind was on the total bill.  When I told him the figure, he was shocked, but seemingly OK with it.  Looked at what I had bought and declared it was a lot of food and it all looked good.  Fine, well, good.  Off we went.

But then the teasing started.  About how the food should last until September.  About how the kid didn’t need shoes or to go to college anyway.  About the perils of a hungry pregnant woman in the grocery store.  I, on the verge of tears, said “Hey, I feel really bad about this.  I usually keep really good track of what’s going in the cart. Please stop teasing me about it.”  Yes, upset, but really calm in the delivery of the message.  A quick apology and then we’re on to the rest of the evening. 

Until…

During “The Middleman,”  I decided that milk and a snack sounded good. 

At the store, they had had Reeses Big Cup multipacks on sale.  It isn’t something I usually buy (candy in the house is a bad idea), but it’s a candy Ray can have and they have some protein, so they aren’t the worst choice when I have a craving for something chocolaty and sweet.  I had been so upset about the total bill that as I was loading up the trunk, I had opened the pack and stuck a couple in my purse, eating one before driving home to both get my blood sugar up and to get me to calm down a bit.

Ray was gracious enough to pause our TV show to get up and get me a glass of milk and a snack…and maybe a little something for himself. He decided that Big Cups sounded good, so he grabed the pack to get one for each of us…and then proceeded to walk into the living room joking that prices really HAVE gone up and that they only come in open packs of 4 now…and that I should pay more attention when I’m picking stuff like that up in the grocery store…Sigh.

So, my eyes filling with tears in the darkened room (Yeah, Honey? You didn’t see that part.), I have to restate my position.  “You know, I asked you to stop teasing me about that earlier.  I’m really sensitive about it.  Probably hormones, but I feel really bad about the whole grocery experience today.  There is no reason to bring it up again, especially since I asked you not to.”  Mumbled apologyish statement about how he wasn’t teasing (yeah, right), but just stating a fact.  Whatever. 

Fortunately, the frustration and shame didn’t linger too long and I ACTUALLY SLEPT WELL LAST NIGHT.  Only one trip out of bed, didn’t wake up for the alarms before they went off, didn’t notice when the dog climbed up by Ray’s feet.  But I did wake up with a big realization:

Today marks the first day of my third trimester.

Child Bride

Yesterday was filled with all sorts of errand running and laundry. Mostly we washed our MAJOR garage sale scores. 

We went late in the morning.  I was sporting one of my favorite t-shirts (Peshtigo Bulldogs), maternity jeans and the only shoes (black flips) I own that don’t carve into swollen feet.  I can’t wear my wedding ring right now and had my hair pulled back.  My high maintainance make up look (chap stick and a little bit of eyeliner) and pair of earrings and I was good to go.  I felt great.  Not like a mom-to-be, but like me.  But I kept getting the strangest looks.  Sometimes looks of sheer pity.  Sometimes judgey looks of disapproval.  I even got a ”Well, whatever we don’t sell will go to the Crisis Pregnancy Center.  You can get more new clothes there if you need them.  They’ll just give them away for free if you need it.”  Um…

Ray never noticed, but I did.  I wanted to somehow drop into the conversations that I’m 34 and have been married for over 10 years. That I have a great job and a college degree.  That we spent 5 years trying to get me knocked up.  He laughed, said I worry too much about what other people think and said no matter what, he likes his child bride. 

We found the world’s greatest garage sale yesterday.  For the low, low sum of $30, we got what is essentially a complete baby wardrobe for the first year.  After checking some prices, I’m fairly certain it was around $400 worth of unstained, well cared for clothing.  The parents had taste that ran so close to ours that the articles of clothing were ones we easily could have picked up at full price on our own.  And their little boy was born around the same time of year, so it matches up well seasonally.  Add a few socks and onesies and whatever cute little things find thier way to us and we’ll be set.

This is a massive improvement over the first thing in the morning when both R and I were having “We’re Not Ready” attacks.  Part of the problem is how we approach such things.  Ray is a “let’s get it when we need it” kind of guy. I’m more in the “let’s pick up this list of things so we don’t have to worry about it later.”  While it works well and gives us a good balance, we occasionally freak one another out.  For example, we’ve got most of the basics in house already.  The only thing lacking right now is a sleeping place, which there are plans to acquire.  However, I’ve got a list of little things in the back of my mind and a plan to pick up one or two things at Target every time I go.  But when I started relating my list to Ray (tylenol, thermometer, onesies, nail clippers, cloth diapers…), he started to to blanch a bit.  He claimed that he’ll just run out at 2 in the morning to get whatever we need; we don’t need to store all this stuff.  (Truth is, he claimed the same thing about ice cream for me during pregnancy, but I have yet to hear his car pulling out of the drive in the wee small hours to fetch some for me. Not that I’ve woken him up to ask.)

Speaking of sleep, the insomnia march continues.  3am-6am aren’t currently times for sleeping. I should pick a project to work on.  Mostly I’ve been flipping channels and waiting for the desire to sleep to return.  Illusive.

Under 100 Days

I’m down to fewer than 100 days.

100 days of being Zen most of the time
100 days of occasionally freaking out about nothing in particular
100 days of getting ducks in a row
100 days of needing to talk Ray out of his tree once in a while
100 days to finish the study
100 days to get a nursery set up
100 days to schedule in some sort of educational experience
100 days to keep growing a belly (and, apparently, more of an ass, too.)
100 days to keep getting outside perspective updates and appraisals on my belly size 
100 days without a Manhattan
100 days of the best sleep I’ll get in months, even though my sleep is already fitful
100 days to deal with this set of fears before moving on to the next set
100 days to enjoy couplehood
100 days to just relax while Ray takes his turn making dinner
100 days to rely on the “eating for two” principal
100 days to wonder who he looks like
100 days to imagine what it will be like
100 days to be totally wrong about what it will be like
100 days to try to make my maternity wardrobe last a little longer without too many infusions
100 days to have to sit up in bed with use of my arms instead of my tummy muscles
100 days of being nudged with a  quiet “Sweetie? You’re supposed to sleep on your left side.”
100 days of panicking when I realize I haven’t felt him move in a while
100 days of absentmindedly chatting with my belly
100 days of playing the Avett Brothers to my stomach through earbuds, just to make him kick
100 days of laughing that he always jumps around when he hears Ray’s voice
100 days of feeling like I weigh 1000 lbs.
100 days of crazy dreams.  Wait. No.  Those are always around.
100 days of this particular variety of emotional fragility
100 days of puffy feet and ankles
100 days of fearing that strangers will pat my stomach (they haven’t yet-thank God)
100 days of sticking close to home
100 days of wondering if I should hire someone to clean the house
100 days of pushing cats off my lap more than usual
100 days of the dog being very worried and protective
100 days of dodging questions I’m not in the mood to answer
100 days of making decisions…well, deciding about starting points
100 days of running to the bathroom every 10 minutes
100 days of wondering if preggo brain is permanent
100 days of true, blissful happiness, even when I’m not in a particularly happy mood
100 days of being a walking miracle
100 days of being so very, very, very thankful that I’ve made it this far
100 days of being so very, very, very thankful that what I’ve wished for for so long is about to come true

Psychic Pets…on the next Montel…

I was home today for much of the day.  Not worth going into, but a warm bath, nap, feet up and plenty of water seem to have fixed me up.

What was odd was lunch time.  At around 10:45, Ray came home with some fast food.  I hopped out of the tub to eat something with him, but Max went into his kennel and hid.  Now any of you who know Max know that where there is food, there is dognose, so this was very odd indeed.

Then Gray started climbing around the edge of the tub–the tub that still had water in it!!–and then pawing at the window.  This is highly unusual behavior for him, too. 

We tried to coax Max out, but he wouldn’t budge, not even for oatmeal cookies.  We began to hypothesize that there might be an earthquake coming or some other strange phenomenon.

Turns out they aren’t psychic, they just can sense and hear things that we mere mortal’s can’t.  See, there was a tragic crane collapse on the north edge of town at 10:45.  One person killed, others injured. Far enough that Ray and I didn’t hear the crash or sirens or anything unusual, but they must have picked up on something.  And the sounds must have been enought different that they captured both Gray’s and Max’s attention.  By afternoon, they were right as rain again, but it sure was an odd set of circumstances.

The Day My Tastebuds Died

OK, phew.  Life is settling back in to something close to normalish after a week away from my own bed and environs.  There have been some minor changes in the whole pregnancy thing, but nothing to worry much about.

* I’ve started having contractions on occasion.  Last weekend.  In the grocery store. I had 2 in a 5 minute span on Saturday morning.  Down went a glass of water and a granola bar, up went my feet and there I stayed for a couple of hours.  They went away and I’ve only felt a twinge or two since.  Still a little nerve wracking, but not bad.  Ray isn’t spectacular at the wait and see.  He wants to know RIGHT NOW if he needs to flip into caregiver mode and whisk me off to the hospital.  Throws a litany of questions at me.  Demands answers.  Asks me if I need to call the doctor.  Once a minute.  For 30 minutes.  Sweet? Yes.  Proactive? Yes.  Helpful?  Perhaps someday.   

*Grocery stores always trigger hot flashes.  I feel overwhelmed and swimmy headed.  It usually starts after I’ve been there for 35 minutes or so.  I have begun to hate grocery shopping.  Unfortunately, because of my obsessive label reading and avoidance of certain food additives and sweeteners, online ordering isn’t an option. 

*Pinchy has gotten BIG.  He flips around and my belly shifts and morphs and twitches.  He’s starting to plant feet and elbows and behind in my bladder, lungs and stomach.  I can feel where he’s positioned from the outside a little bit.  Not clearly, but I can usually find his (from what I can tell HUMONGOUS) noggin or behind.  Not sure which, but roundish and hardish–like one of the big superballs you can get at a place like Constructive Playthings.

*I’m still not showing a lot a lot.  You can clearly tell from the sides, but from the front or back it could go either way.  All belly.  So much so that you can’t really tell I’m pregnant if I’m sitting down.  So much so a waitress asked me if I wanted a cocktail at dinner the other night.  No thanks, I said.  F You, I thought.   

*I’ve got a few of the dreaded stretch marks.  Mostly in places that I don’t mind too much and only a few of them, but still, they make me frown.  I had hoped I’d miss out on them.  Still not so much as others I’ve seen.

*I’m not waddling yet, although as the day goes on and my back gets tired, I begin to slouch and shuffle.

*Pinchy has gotten finicky.  I think he only wants ice cream.  Since Tuesday or so, all food has tasted bad or at least muted to me.  Aversion is too strong a word.  It’s not that I want to run screaming from the room when faced with a particular food.  It’s just that nothing tastes good.  For example, Ray took me to my favorite pizza place in the whole wide world (Lucca) and we got our usual.  I took one bite and he burst out laughing.  Apparently, I looked much like I was chewing on something and debating if I should spit it out or not.  My face shows all.  I’ve found that strawberry lemon twist cones with crunch from Gene’s are palatable, but even they don’t taste quite right.

*Pinchy always dances when I watch “Dr. Horrible’s Sing along Blog.”  Haven’t seen it yet? YOU MUST (although it’s only on iTunes now).  It is brilliant and funny and wonderful and perfect. 

*My poor tummy is only little right now.  4 bites of food and I’m stuffed.  Half an hour later and I’m famished.  Annoying.

Ain’t it funny…

25 weeks

I can hardly believe it.  I’ve only got 15 to go.  15 weeks to finish up the house. 15 weeks to get in some sort of childbirth education.  15 weeks to make some decisions about breastfeeding, sleeping arrangements, etc. etc. etc. 

After this week, time will slow back to normal.  It seems that the last two weeks have passed in a blur as we ran into event and roadblock and sidestep and thing.  One thing after another.  I hate that I haven’t had the time to sit down and write about some of the things on my mind.  I will as things settle back into their usual rhythm, but until then, little blogs will do.

Pinchy is doing well.  Still having lazy days.  Sunday was a bit of a scary one.  Contractions. Dizziness. Blech.  I laid down, ate and drank and felt better.  Since then the yucky feeling shows up if I’m on my feet too much or if I don’t eat on time.  So I’m more careful to eat before I’m hungry and drink before I’m thirsty and to get enough sleep.  Baby needs to cook some more, so I’m doing my best to keep that bun in the oven.

OK…speaking of…nap time!!

Like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in Sandals

Just time for a quick blog…

Had my 24 week appointment yesterday and everything went well. I’m measuring right on target, have only had a small weight gain overall and got chided a little for not drinking enough water. BP was a shade low, but good. Next up is my glucose test and hemoglobin test.

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I’ve lost my ankles. They seem to reappear first thing in the morning, but then by 2 or 3 they are gone gone gone gone. My sandals are making unattractive dents in the tops of my feet. I know I should go get my feet up, but there is too much to be done, too much to take care of right now. I’ll lie down in a bit. And drink my water.

I had hoped I’d dodge this, but doesn’t look like that’s the case. I’ve seen much worse swelling–on my own feet, even–but it still isn’t my favorite side effect.

The Name Game…Chuck, Chuck Bo Buck, Banana Fanna Fo…

Hella busy day here at the ranch…but a pretty good one.  One of my big problems seems to have resolved herself in the form of lying on her time card.  Not a pleasant conversaton, but a necessary one.  And I cleared out a drawer…and some of my ever growing in box…and got my autistic student trained on a new task…and whew! It makes up for a yesterday, which was lost in a blur of a particularly sad funeral, a monster headache, a mega nap and a crashed sense of self. 

Best part of today: Dairy Queen Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookie Blizzard.  Heaven in a little blue cup. And did you know that DQ has grilled cheese on their kids meal menu?  Awesome!

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So we’ve been getting the question about names a lot.  Everyone wants to know if we’ve decided on one.  Well, the truth is that yes, we have.  Since it’s a boy, we’ve let Ray make the decision.  He opened a baby name book, put his finger down on a random entry on a random page and came upon the perfect name for our Polish/Lithuanian/German/Irish baby: Jagmeet.  It’s of Middle Eastern Origin.  We plan on calling him Jag.  Or Meet.  Whichever.  Ray says we’ll decide which he looks like when he comes out.  I said if that’s the case then it will definitely be “Meat.”

I know it’s unusual and we may not be able to find preprinted name badges at Disneyworld.  And it won’t be to anyones taste but ours.  But it WILL be unique. 

The other front runner is Norris-Boris.  It sounds ESPECIALLY great with our last name.  There has been talk about whether we should hyphenate it or just use Boris for a middle name.  I’m leaning more toward the hyphenation.  It’s more complicated and more difficult.

I’m pretty sure either choice will be similar to naming a boy “Sue” like in the Johnny Cash song.  Whatever doesn’t kill him will make him stronger, especially when it comes to recess hyjinx and locker room wedgies.

You’ll all get used to whichever one we pick.  I promise.

Viable

24 weeks

Today will be a short post since today is a crazy kind of day.  Yesterday was spent getting into the swing of things again after the long weekend.  I slogged through the sleepy day, to my after work destinations, back home to feed the boys, then out to run some errands and get some food.  I hadn’t planned to go out to eat.  In my 15 minutes at home before my ride showed up to take me to my after work destination, I was just about to microwave some leftover pasta to steaming hot.  I set it on the counter, turned my back to put my purse down and CLUNK.  Dinner was suddenly in the dog.  And my precious sweet tea from McDonalds was on the floor.  Sigh.  Max the mooch strikes again.  He’s a wonderful dog, but a bad counter surfer.  It’s fine when I catch him before the transgression, but most often I find the remnants and wrappers strewn on the floor.

So the big thing is that today I’m at 24 weeks.  Viability.  It’s a pretty arbitrary mile marker.  It’s not as though something magical happens today to ensure a healthy rest of my pregnancy or even a healthy baby if he were to show up early.  There are still things to worry about, still further to climb.  At the same time, I’ve reached a point that I never really imagined reaching.  I’ve shifted my thinking from the here and now to the here and now…and the next few steps.  Looking into my choices in labor and delivery.  Thinking about how to catch Ray up to speed on what iddle tiny babies need in terms of care.  Where baby will sleep.  Those things were all terribly abstract to me for the longest time. They seem much more possible now.