Food, Sleep and Birth Plans.

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter.  I was on Facebook over the weekend it was amazing how many people got religion this weekend.  I am not complaining.  We don’t give Jesus enough credit for Easter.  Easter bunny and eggs be damned.

Yesterday, Turtle and I watched a “Whitney” marathon.  I have never been a fan of that show but hubby does not miss it.  He claims it is an exact replica of our relationship….you know…normal guy marries crazy neurotic chick.

Lately all I have been doing is eat.  I eat every two to three hours.  And I am not gaining weight except around my middle.  Before I got preggers, the smallest snack would send the needle on the scale hurtling towards oblivion.  Not so anymore.  I am pleased, but foraging for food all day can get daunting.  Yesterday I had a big Waffle House breakfast after church around 9 a.m. then a bowl of pasta at 11:30 with a bowl of ice cream at noon,  followed by a bowl of rice and stew at 2 p.m. then two cups of tea a half hour later, a few perogies an hour later then I went to bed at 4 p.m. (totally unexpected but at this point I have given up on rhyme or reason), woke up at 2 a.m. ate Haitian picklies and rice and stew, went back to bed, had two breakfast burritos at 8:30 this morning, then a tall mocha Frappuccino AND Subway sandwich for lunch.  This will probably be followed by four cheese sticks before 3 p.m.

Foraging for food and sleeping is all I do.  People say, ‘baby got to eat,’ I call bullshit.  Baby is sucking me dry this is why I am eating like a horse and a cow. Thankfully, I have a good twenty pounds leeway until the end of this party so bring the nosh.

On another note, I have come to notice that childbirth in this country is one biiiiig deal.  Back home, you get pregnant, you give birth, end of story.  No major drama or production.  Here, the minute you become a human incubator, everybody and their third cousin starts the drama.  To be honest, procreating ain’t my favorite thing.  In fact the entire thing freaks me out but nothing freaked me out more that people’s reaction.  From the overly excited relatives to the intrusive colleagues.  It does not make me angry because this is people’s way to saying they care about you….but I got to say, it was hard coming to terms with my own emotions with other people’s excitement getting in the way.

My sister-in-law is one of those super moms with super sweet, cute, and social kids.  She sent me a text that told me to enjoy my pregnancy because it would go by so fast.  Right when I was in the middle of my nausea-fatigue-ligament-pain-gas-costipation-i-want-to-kill-turtle phase.  I love her to death but that was the last communication she would get from me regarding pregnancy.  Some of us are not built to breed like rabbits and enjoy pregnancy.  And I am not ashamed to say it.  In fact, I am hell bent on staying away from those kinds of people.

I have been researching birth plans.  I know, an oxymoron right?  Well, I watched “The Business of Being Born” by Ricki Lake and was totally convinced the reason for my paranoia is the fear of the unknown.  We all want the best but prepare for the worst so I have decided that as long as everything goes well, I will be doing natural birth.  Yes.  You all can start laughing now.

The first woman I told – a lady with two kids giggled and told me flat out, “don’t be a hero.”  I agree.  I like pain drugs.  Who wants to suffer?  But my research made me believe that interfering with nature has consequences.  I have watched so many natural birth videos and none of these women were screaming or hollering in pain.  They were in pain but they were in control and they took their time birthing their kids.  I even saw one woman take a nap between contractions.  No one was strapped to a bed with IVs everywhere, no one was given Pitocin to speed things up, no one was given epidurals to numb you (since Pitocin makes contractions longer and more intense), and no one was subsequently given a C-section because the baby got into trouble with all that accelerated squeezing.  Childbirth in this country is scary, I tell you.  It has been medicalized to ridiculousness.  Hence my natural birth plan.  Keep laughing.  There is more.

As long as things go well, I will not be strapped to a bed.  I will have no IV. I shall sit my ass in a warm tub and wait for my body to do the work.  I already told Turtle, no matter how much I scream or cry, not to let me take pain meds.  I got off all meds cold turkey.  It would be hypocritical of me to end the whole thing with souped-up versions of what I could not have for nine months.

Keep laughing.  I will need you all to cheer and clap for me when this is all over.  And give me the medal of badassness too.

 

 

 

We found a pecker.

Went for my 14 week ultrasound two weeks ago. Thought it was a routine visit to make sure all was okay until the tech asked if I wanted to know the baby’s gender. I was like, “I thought you had to wait until 20 weeks?” Well, ladies and gentlemoimois, we found a pecker. Yeah, it is a boy. I was happy and disappointed all at once because I wanted a girl and Turtle wanted a boy. Of course he denies that now with the mea culpa “as long as it is healthy…” blah, blah, blah. Everyone seems happy it is a boy because … *cue eyeroll* … girls are so difficult to raise. I still find myself gravitating to the cute, little frilly dresses when I go shopping. Now I have to deal with a testosterone-infused environment in like a decade or two. I have five brothers. They were the most infuriating males ever. Still are to some degree hence my total dislike and distrust of boys. My sole aim in my life from now is not to raise an asshole. So help me God.

On other pregnancy news, I popped last week. For the uninitiated that is when your bump becomes visible to the naked eye. Not too big yet but it does put a lot of your pre-pregnancy clothes out of commission. I bought a few pants and skirts and rustled up a few tops that still fit. These should last me a month or two before I have to get the big guns. I eat every two hours and fall asleep at random times. Not fun. I pee so often that Turtle mentioned putting me on a toilet paper budget. Like, he really said that.

Last week, I went to pre-natal rehab for my chronic pain. I got off all my pain medication since they cause birth defects. I got off those meds cold turkey. This baby owes me a house in the future. My therapist is one of the coolest chicks I have ever met. During consultation, she put me on a walking track to gauge my performance. After two laps, she stopped me and said the only work-out I will be doing will be in a swimming pool. Apparently, I was wheezing and walking lopsided. I call it my preggie swagger. So come next week, I will be floating around in the pool during my lunch hour. Yay! Four months down, five to go.

“Babies are easy. It is you I am worried about.” – Turtle

Vera called it.  I am not one of those happy go-lucky moms-to-be gushing about how happiiiiiiiiiiiiii  they are to be pregnant.  I don’t care either.  Face it ladies, you lied.  Yes, you.  Those of you that have kids have this unspoken pact about keeping the horrors of making a human being a secret.  And I don’t mean childbirth. At first I was worried about pissing God off and inheriting an unhealthy baby but thanks to the many breeders on babycenter.com, I have found that griping is something women do when pregnant. In secret. The things my body has gone through in the last 12 and a half weeks, I tell you … and they say the third trimester is going to be the worst.  At the time, I would be the size of a beached whale.  I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

The part I hate the most is the fatigue.  Believe it or not the nausea can be managed with crackers, preggie pops and constant nibbling but I don’t think there is a cure for taking a nap while taking a shower.  I mean, standing for 10 minutes tuckers me out.  And Turtle tried to take a picture of me while I was discreetly trying to get on a WalMart scooter to do my shopping.  I constantly feel like I just completed a marathon.  My OB’s explanation was easy.  Apparently the one’s blood volume doubles in the first trimester, so that means your heart is working twice as hard to circulate all that blood while remaining the same size.

The best part of being tired all the time is that my boss cuts me a lot of slack when she sees me hunched over my desk.  I sleep for 12 to 14 hours a day with an occasional side eye from Turtle (who thinks I am faking this thing).  I don’t blame him.  It is like going from 0 to 60 and then back to 0 in a matter of weeks.  The dishes don’t get done (so many fights about this issue), the laundry piles up, and forget about cooking or cleaning or any kind of social activity.  All I want to do is recline and let my brain go blank.

Any time Turtle asks me to do something, I roll my eyes and reply, “in a minute, as soon as I am done making arms and elbows.” That usually shuts him up.

And the hormones.  Oh lord.  Everything makes me cry.  Me! And it is true about hating your spouse no matter how great he is.  Everything about him just makes you want to act like a possessed woman.  You have no idea how many times I have decided I am going to ask for a divorce.  I don’t even know if I am aware of exactly what is real and what is not.  How did our mothers do this shit over and over again???

On a happy note, I hear all these symptoms are signs of a healthy pregnancy.  So while the little bugger is zapping all my nutrients and energy, I get to feel like I got hit by a truck.  No wonder women say, “Fuck Father’s Day.”

Yeah.  Fuck Father’s Day.  We make arms and elbows.