Category: Baby Bump 09

While most of my bloggy besties were off cavorting and elbowing babies for swag at some weak little conference in Chicago (hehe), I spent the better part of my weekend at HOME willing my water to break…

Clearly, that did NOT happen… very, very, very much to my disappointment.

Yeah, I had hoped she would come on her own. Instead, I’ll be going in for my scheduled c-section on Wednesday, 12pm PST.

Having been through this before, I have the benefit and the disadvantage of knowing exactly what to expect… There seems to be no end to the “last minute” details as I second and triple guess myself on what was (or wasn’t) helpful in the past. I’ve definitely been trying to get as much SLEEP as possible, only to be plagued by stupid insomnia.

4 am and I’m flipping between “16 and Pregnant” and “A Baby Story” …

I’m dreading the recovery. I’m worried about Scout. I’m relieved my parents will be here tomorrow night. I really want a turkey sandwich right now. I ate half a bell pepper, just a bell pepper, an hour ago. Don’t ask.

In any case, I haven’t been able to concentrate on much else this week (much less cobble together a coherent post…)

I simply ask that you please pray for or at least think of us on Wednesday.

I’ve felt much healthier with this pregnancy than my last. Of course, it helps that I don’t sit on my ass and stuff my face all day like I did when I worked in an office… contrary to what you may think SAHMs do all day. (smirk!)

Other than that one day when I cleared the freezer of every stinkin’ pint of Ben and Jerry’s AmeriCone Dream that my local Safeway offered, I’ve been able to resist most temptation.

(What? A. It has Stephen Colbert’s face on it and… B. Vanilla cream with fudge-covered waffle cone pieces and caramel… It’s wicked good.)

The last few days though… I don’t know if it’s Baby Girl packing on the pounds or if I’m subconsciously trying to get in every last bite of the all-you-can-eat buffet that is pregnancy, but I just can NOT get full.

Lately, I am hungry ALL. THE. TIME.

… and it’s an all-consuming crazed hunger that no amount of fruits and veggies, yogurts, or sensible well-balanced meals can seem to satiate.

So, very much like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, I’ve moved on to eating total crap.

Last week, I was at grocery store picking up a few things when I came face to face with a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos that I just HAD to have.

(The very same Flaming Hot Cheetos that I always give my mom crap about eating… you know, from atop my locally-sourced, all-natural, organic high horse…)

I discreetly tossed it into the cart and made a beeline for the check-out counter, where I waited… and waited… and waited… getting more shaky and delirious with hunger by the second.

OMG… I couldn’t believe how SLOW the cashier lady was being! Taking the time to greet the people in front of me. Does she not SEE how pregnant I am? Ppfff!

When it was my turn, I kept trying to hand her my Safeway card (so, I could get my 50 cents off of the bag of Cheetos, of course), but she was chatting with the bagger and didn’t notice. I finally just snapped.

“Hey! Pay attention!” I barked.

It just wasn’t me. I swear. It was the BLIND CHEETOS RAGE!

Once in the parking lot, I actually considered forgoing the usual car seat battle with Scout just so I could get home and tear into those nummy, nummy Cheetos that much sooner.

After all, we were only a mile away from the house and it was neighborhood streets the whole way. Was safety reeeeeallly necessary?

(I’m only KIDDING. I buckled Scout into his car seat. I would never place my secret love-hate for processed cheese product before my very real love for my child. I, however, have absolutely no problems using processed FRUIT product, such as “My Little Pony Fruit Snacks”, to bribe my son to get into his car seat faster…)

(Why “My Little Pony”, you ask? They were out of the “Finding Nemo Snacks”, so he asked for the one with the “flying horseys” and who am I to discriminate against fruit snacks on the basis of color (pastel) or gender (girly)…)

I was in such a blur that I left I my wallet in the shopping cart (!!!). After twenty minutes of being home, there was a knock at my front door. A sweet, thoughtful girl had found my wallet and drove it all the way to my house to return it in person…

I just wanted to hug her…sticky orange fingers and all. Instead, I offered her a reward which she refused.

I was so floored and grateful that I didn’t even check to see if everything was still in it until well after she left. It was, which made me feel even crappier for being such a jerk to the check-out lady.

It’s nice to know that there are wonderful and decent people in the world. I’m just not going be one of them for a few more weeks.

My friend, Stephenie, said it best…

The third trimester was especially designed by nature to make the pain of CHILD BIRTH actually seem like a desirable option.

I had plenty of things to blog about last week, but was in such a hormonal cluster that I hardly thought any of it was worth sharing. Let me give you the basic rundown…

Whah. I’m so pregnant. Whah. I have heartburn. Whah-whah. Whah! My MATERNITY clothes barely cover my gut. WHAH!

See. You really didn’t miss much.

I had another appointment with my doctor last Friday and, again, have absolutely nothing to report. In spite of the contractions that have been coming for weeks now, things are still HIGH and DRY over here.

Braxton-Hicks. You tease!

While there’s tremendous comfort in having a delivery date (THIS MONTH!!!) and knowing that my parents will be here to take care of Scout when it happens, there’s still that lingering “she-could-come-at-any-moment”… immediately followed by the “oh-crap-what-the-hell-am-going-to-do-when-THAT-happens”…

Did I mention that Scout was born a week early? Ack!  Scout was born a week early!!!

We’re so ill prepared.

I don’t even have a bag packed (very unlike me), much less one for Scout if or when I have to frantically leave him with my friend, Melissa, in the middle of the night.

Hmm, maybe I should let Melissa know about that…

Also, until this past weekend, Mr. D had NO IDEA where my hospital is located. I’ve only been there once or twice myself and never even thought to take a peek at “Labor and Delivery”.

So after Friday’s doctor appointment, we drove to the hospital for a quick visit.

At L&D, a friendly nurse was happy to show us the birthing rooms, NICU, and well baby nursery. She pointed out the ORs where I will be delivering and dutifully reviewed the hospital’s policies on rooming-in, privacy, and security. It was all very familiar.

At the end of our impromptu visit, I only had one very pressing question…

Do the rooms have Wi-Fi or should I bring an Ethernet cable?

1. As of my last appointment, everyone is healthy and I’m measuring right on schedule. 33 inches, 33 weeks. Great, except this tells me absolutely nothing. What I really want to know is “Wheeeeen will she come oooooout?”

2. If diva doesn’t make her debut beforehand, my delivery date has been scheduled for the last week of July (approximately four days before my due date). To pass the time, she’s started a fight club in my uterus. My spleen and kidneys are suffering the brunt of it.

3. I miss sleeping on my tummy.

4. I signed up Scout and I for parent-tot swim lessons this week and next, which either earns me a medal or a padded cell.

5. We picked out a name, but I’m not telling you what it is… because, you know… pregnant women are smug. Mmmmm…

6. So “push presents”…”Push prize”. “Baby bling”. “Baby baubles”. “Slice-of-life gifts” (for c-sections). Whatever you want to call it…  I’ve spent the last few days trying to write a post about it and I’m stumped.

Disgusting? Thoughtful gesture? Mandatory payback? Your thoughts?

Pregnancy makes for awkward conversation.

Most comments can be attributed to idle small talk. It’s the stuff people just say out of politeness or habit. Most it is harmless, but there’s one remark that I just don’t get…

Our house was about to be sprayed for ants, so Scout and I were busy evacuating. As I loaded the car and discussed last minute details with the exterminator, our across-the-street neighborhood (who I have never met or spoken to before) came running over.

She wanted to know what they were spraying for, how long we’d had a pest problem, etc… Then she spotted my belly.

“Do you know what you’re having?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s a girl”

“Oh wow! A boy and a girl. Now you’re all done! You must be so happy,” she squealed.

Done? What does that even mean?

Did we hit the big triple-seven baby-makin’ jackpot?

As in… Su-weet! One of each. Now our collection is complete. Best to quit while we’re ahead. No further procreation necessary.

Did parents who have all girls (like mine did) or all boys (like Mr. D’s) FAIL miserably at life?

A similar comment I’ve heard is “Oh, now your family will PERFECT.”

(Yes, well, I was of the opinion that it already was, but thanks…)

Another boy would have been no less loved or anticipated. It definitely would have involved far less shopping…

I recently went on a bow buying binge. Yes, hair bows…for a child who isn’t even born yet and has an unknown quantity of hair or inclination towards being fussed upon…

In turn, I asked if my neighbor had any children. She said, “Yes, two boys.”

I said, “How fun!”, which is the same pat response I would have given had she said “two girls” or “my dogs are the only ittle-wittle-bittle babies I need”.

“But I can’t try for another one.” Backing away like my condition is catching. “I just can’t go through that. Not again. I. JUST. CAN’T.”

“All riiiight. Well, someone is spraying toxic chemicals in our house, so we’d best be getting on now, okay? Uh, see you around… (Crazy).”