S t i l l Pregnant

Starting the third week of no work and all rest, I've decided to give up or give in and assume that eventually I will have this baby. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but sometime before the month of May is over.

I suppose that aside from the selfishness of having children because people want to, maybe they're meant to teach us things. I think this one is trying to teach me some patience. Anyone who knows me is probably laughing already -- I'm not a naturally patient person. Waiting on someone else frustrates me. I like having a schedule (mine), and then sticking to it.

This is nothing new. One of the reasons that teaching is great is because there's a schedule and within that schedule there's a plan for each hour -- a plan that I get to make. So, I've been spoiled with the teaching. Even when I was little, I hated working on other people's schedules and couldn't understand waiting for things.

Well, my brother was a little different. I remember him taking two hours to eat dinner. He used to be slow at everything. We were constantly waiting on him. Mom would say that he'd never have ulcers, but that she'd end up with ulcers from waiting on him. Deja vu all over again.

I think this baby is going to teach me some patience. Clearly, we're already at the mercy of his schedule. Soon, there will be nothing that's on my schedule so I might as well start getting used to this non-schedule / schedule that's not mine. Maybe I'll set aside some time for that today.

Not SO Big? OR Week of the Doctors

Who knew that modified bed rest could involve so much travel? Monday we went back to the midwives practice (after a trip to school to pick up, put away, and take out things for the kids for the rest of the year... just in case) and got our first set of marching orders: Don't go back to work (ha! done!), stay resting as much as possible, call with any increase in symptoms of pretty much anything, keep eating a low sodium, low refined carb, and high protein diet, and come back Wednesday after an ultrasound Tuesday.

Right-O!

Tuesday we went for the ultrasound, and everything looked great. They think he's 6lbs 9oz +/- 15oz. (For anyone who hasn't gotten in on the www.expectnet.com/ChickpeaChawan date/time/size game.... that might help you out!) and that he's measuring right in the 50% percentile for everything... except for his femurs. Those are 'long for dates.' This is potentially wonderful news for me. In further good news, it looks like his toes are normal -- as opposed to being like mine where the second toe is actually shorter than the third. (It's congenital, so if someone knows whose side this comes from, I'd be glad to hear who is at the root of the damage.) Bottom line: All this baby that they keep feeling might just be length. I think that exiting someone long would be easier than exiting someone, ummm, well, fat. Maybe I won't have a 9lb giant after all!

Yesterday, it was back to the midwives. I told the front desk lady that she was going to get tired of seeing us, and she gave me that look -- that look that says 'not me.' And, then I said, "Right, why lie, I'm going to get tired of coming here." They were okay with my blood pressure and I'd lost another pound since Monday (-5 lbs of puffiness, thanks, super low sodium blah taste diet), so we were all pleased. Good news / bad news: since all is well enough if left alone, we're leaving alone. This minimal intervention business sounded so good before I was this pregnant.

The good news required a trip to Target to look for a tri-fold chaise lounge for the outdoors. If I'm required to be resting and it's 80 and sunny outside, you can bet that all of me (in some sort of attractive granny pantie and sports bra get up) is going to lounge in the backyard. If I get really fat & sassy feeling , I might move to the front and make a sign that says something about honking if you want to save the whales.

I'll go back on Monday and at that point they'll be willing to do something called membrane stripping. I think it was the birth class lady who described this as "a really rough internal exam" where the midwife encourages labor by separating any little attachments holding baby's comfy, but temporary aquatic home to my more permanent features. There are some interesting articles and descriptions of this online, but I'll spare the faint of stomach or those who've not yet had the pleasure of being tired of being pregnant. Why spoil the fun?

Today, though, I get to have doctor visit no. 4 for the week. A trip to the eye doc is in order just to check out the visual disturbances I've been having since this blood pressure thing started. This is for mom's sake. I put mom on worry rest--not allowed to worry unless it's worry that can be acted upon (she's doing well at not verbalizing the other worries, but I'm sure I've not broken her worry habit). She found something I could act on, so we're going to the eye doctor. While it will be nice to know whether there's anything wrong with my eyes, I'm especially looking forward to the expedition to Bed Bath & Beyond afterward--come to find out, Target, WalMart, KMart... none of them carry tri-fold chaises. Apparently my low-end taste can only be met at BBB, and for $30 at that! Oh well, a small price to pay for memories of what bed rest CAN be.

Eviction Notice Forthcoming

Since Baby is now officially cramping my style, I'm planning to ask him to vacate my property by month's end. He's made modifications that are unlikely to be able to be fixed with a fresh coat of paint, and I can't say that I'll be taking another tenant any time soon. At the very least, he's not getting back the damages deposit. At most, I may have to call in the authorities to help him get on his way should he refuse to leave of his own accord.

We go back to the doctor tomorrow to see whether I'll be able to go back to work, and to see what more we need to do to either retain the tenant longer or aid him in leaving the property. Now that we're officially over 37 weeks, he's officially 'full term' by any measure and that means time in the NICU is highly unlikely. Hopefully, the numbers will be right on target, I'll be able to go back to doing what I do best, and he'll be able to hang out another 10 days so that I can be right with my guess about his birthday.

I have a sinking feeling, though, that I'll be told to stay mostly horizontal until he either exits or until an assisted exit is scheduled.

Sigh. Big Sigh.

So, a girl walks into her doctor's office and they say, put your feet up... for 3 days! Parum-pum.

Not much of a punchline, I know. Yesterday's little visit was much less exciting that the previous week's. In addition to being told I was 'looking a little puffy' (if toes that look like Vienna sausages are 'puffy,' I'm Father Christmas) I was sent home for a few days of bed rest. Nothing to be worried about at present, but something they're labeling 'possible preeclampsia.' Basically, a few numbers were out of line, and they're being cautious ... since they know that telling me to stay off my feet at work would be a waste of breath. Although bringing a couch to the classroom did cross my mind.

The good news is that, as of tomorrow, we're officially 'full term' and this baby can appear whenever he wishes. He's already more than big enough, so I don't mind if he just turns up a little sooner rather than later. Especially if that shortens this mandatory bed rest. (Don't get me wrong -- were it MY idea, it might be great. It's the medically necessary part that has me riled up.)

Since I've got some time on my hands, I'm currently planning to take over the world. So far, the plan involves getting off bed rest by Monday ... somehow. I know, it's an excellent strategy. In the meantime, I'll be here. Horizontal. In the house. Doing not much. Sigh. Big sigh.

Might As Well...

I found a site that turns having a baby into an even bigger gamble than it already is, at less of a cost: http://www.expectnet.com/games/ChickpeaChawan

For free, you, too, can join in the fun of guessing when we'll trade in couplehood for family fun. I'm the site manager, so if you decide to bet on me going OVER 40 weeks and find your post deleted... well, you can guess who might have made that happen. :)

Mr. Big

We went for our 35-week appointment last week, and there were a of "hummm" and "uh-huh" kinds of noises coming out of Nurse Linda's mouth. Most of that was followed by, "that's baby there, too."

Yes, apparently it's not just my imagination that he's heading toward the exit. His "head's way down there" and the rest of him is taking up so much room that he's measuring a full two weeks ahead of schedule. Ajay backed Nurse Linda into a corner and asked her, if she were a betting woman in Vegas, where we'd be weight-wise now, and she thought that he'd already tip the scaled at 7 lbs. Um... and with a month to go times half a pound a week... that makes a BIG BABY!

Wondering how likely the chances are that we'll go all the way to 40 weeks, Nurse Linda also did some checking and found that things feel favorable and we're already dilated a centimeter. So, given the size plus the environmental conditions, it's looking like an earlier exit may be possible. To make that possibility more likely, we were given a 'to do' and a 'to take' list. She thinks that we'll see big changes in a couple weeks, and I'd be very okay with that.

As soon as I find a site that lets me set up some friendly wagering on things like arrival date and data, I'll open the betting to the public. Until then, I'm just hoping really hard that Nurse Linda's right.

I Know a Lot of Good Tricks

Well, so said the Cat in the Hat. This baby also apparently knows a good trick or two when he finds it. Today he has managed to repeatedly perform a new trick that involves 1) a foot, 2) my ribs, and 3) the muscles and skin right under my ribs.
For the past couple hours, our little friend has repeatedly stuck a foot up under my ribs--right against them, so that I can feel it while he slowly drags -- it -- down -- across -- each -- one, until POP! he gets to a soft place where the foot meets less resistance and it can stick our right under my ribs. Ta-da!
So, there's been this sort of drag - bump, drag-bump, drag-kick dance happening inside today. I think that he has officially proven the sort of intelligence that merits an early exit from the womb. He is obviously bored and now making up his own games. I'd be happier to play were they not uncomfortable, and I think that's more likely to happen on the outside of this body. Only a month to go...

Ummm... Are We There Yet?

35 weeks and a few days down, somewhere around a month to go, but... is it asking too much for that to be cut in half? I've started hoping that the power of positive thought will sway Mister into an early exit from Hotel Britta. Maybe 2-3 weeks early? Sure, we've had a great run together, but I know that he'd be much happier if he didn't have to come to work with me everyday, if he could have a little more space to himself, and if he wasn't getting pushed at by me all the time when he roams up under my ribs with his lovely little feet.
I mean, really, what could it hurt? The internet tells me that --as of this point-- 99% of babies born have no trouble breathing on their own, eating, or doing anything else babies are supposed to do. They're just a little smaller. Let me just say, the fact that I am starving every couple hours (to the point where my tummy rumbles audibly) tells me that someone is really just getting bigger. The rest is done. Baked. Formed. Produced.
So, as baby gets bigger, so goes my body. When I say bigger, I mean that I'm considering getting a sign for my butt that says, "This vehicle makes wide turns." Or, maybe the triangular sign that farm implements use when driving on the road -- the slow moving vehicle sign. Basically, bigger = slower. I can't walk at a normal pace--only waddle at a turtle's clip. From the back, this must look something like a kid in a diaper learning to walk. Jerky and halting, a little worrisome (as in: does she need help?!), and painful for me. This normal part of pregnancy doesn't feel like it should be normal. Perhaps this is why someone at school told me, "The last month is hell. Don't let anyone else tell you differently. They'd be lying." I appreciated the brutal honesty, because a lot of people seem to have conveniently forgotten that the feeling of your pelvis splitting apart isn't nice, that your feet swelling like little balloons isn't convenient, and that simple things--like digging in the garden--are anything but simple.
Well, just look at it -- there's nothing to say except, wow--THAT'S gotten bigger!

The Last Supper

Okay, that might be slightly dramatic, but Ajay and I did go out for a fantastic dinner at Cafe Margot this Wednesday night. Margot is one of the few places here in town that does a different menu daily with whatever is fresh and ready for a table. It was so good. The two-and-a-half of us dined on halibut, pork chops, and carrot cake. Yum. And, like clockwork, about 90 minutes into things, someone who will go unnamed decided to get antsy and it was time to get up from the table and head home. Did I mention that 90 minutes later was a little after 7:30? Yes, the romantic nights out are already getting earlier, and there's not even a babysitter to get home to pay yet.

Humm, I wonder what the Magic 8 Ball would say about the future of this...