Dear Little Man,
We regret to inform you that your housing unit has been set for deconstruction at 1700 hours today. We had hoped it wouldn't come to this but unfortunately your move out date has come and gone and since the house is no longer live-able and your latest rent check bounced you must be forcibly encouraged should you choose to not leave on your own accordance within the next 5 hours.
Sincerely,
Taylor-Murat Housing Authority
Jessy AKA Mom
...and other equally fun symptoms.
Baby is sucking out all my creativity and giving me nothing back except heartburn, horrendous kicks in my ribs simultaneously punching me in the vagina and hiccups in my butt. He’s a tiny multi-tasking phenomenon. His head is down, has been pretty much since the gender revealing ultrasound of 20 wks. When he gets the hiccups it literally feels like tiny jolts in my tushie. Awesome. It’s as though my tookus has a mind of its own or my insides have been so completely re-arranged by the ninja inside that my diaphragm is now near my ass. Either way, it’s not good.
My abdomen feels like it might explode, belly button as the initial point of exit. I can slather oils and lotions on my bread-basket of joy till my fingers are pruney and still my skin is taut and stretched to the limit. My limbs no longer resemble or even feel like what I remember due to their various stages of swelling; even my armpits are pudgy, seriously?! pudgy pits. How is that even possible? I began noticing this about a week ago when I tried to shave them. Do I need to describe the state of my hands and feet? I’ll only add that holding a pen or a paintbrush has been problematic if I expect my output to resemble anything legible or recognizable. No matter how much water I drink, my skin sloughs off at an alarming rate, making me appear like a snake in a constant state of shedding. This could be due to the fact that I’m pregnant in Colorado or that this bambino sucks all the water out of my skin to keep his little ocean filled. I’m aware of the other symptoms that are listed in numerous prepare-for-your-baby-enjoy-your-changing-body websites but there are some they don’t tell you about. I’m thinking this is the case because if they told you everything, people might just stop this pro-creating nonsense. While I try to maintain a state of hygiene and shave my legs, its getting harder to reach them, I’m not going to lie and say it wouldn’t be nice to pop them out at the hip joint, Barbie-doll style, hold them up, shave them, and pop ‘em back in after they are silky smooth. Then there is the increase in getting up to pee at night. If this baby doesn’t explode out my belly button the other option is: he drops just a tad lower and falls out my butt. I’ve been assured this isn’t physically possible but it sure as hell feels like it. He’s squished my bladder so hard that I have to get up to pee at least 14 times a night and I’ve nearly reached my limit. I’m contemplating wearing depends and un-potty training myself just so I don’t have to get up anymore. Yeah, that’s right. I’m actually considering wearing adult diapers and peeing my pants in my sleep. These are the dark thoughts one has when you’re running on increments of 2 hours of sleep or less. I also hear they now come in fabulous pink and purple colors.
As I increase in both size and weight moving like the zippy squirrel I used to has become an issue. There are still moments when I forget just how far my belly protrudes and I try to squeeze through tight spaces and fail. Haltingly. Miserably. Up until my maternity leave started last week there was an ongoing battle between myself and another coworker. She insists on turning the photocopier in our office space perpendicular to the wall, unfortunately for me, my agility or current lack thereof doesn’t allow me to get around it with ease thus ensues the constant banging of the tender belly on the protruding paper trays. I pushed it parallel to the wall every chance I got. Ahh, how I long for my zippy squirrel days. And while I’m ordering, I’ll take it with a tan and a pair of my sexy pre-pregnancy jeans. Thanks.
ease. There’s only so fast I can dash out of a room to create some distance between myself and the gas that I can no longer control, but I try, because I don’t have or want the kind of relationship (with co-workers) that involves “dutch ovens” or any other form of gas humor.” I will add that one of my co-workers, who shall remain nameless, but is the one who insists on setting the copier up as a deathtrap, has the WORST gas of anyone I know. And she doesn't leave the room or acknowledge that she’s even let one. Add to that combo a bionic nose and this pregnant gal is gagging. Thank God I got my maternity leave on! Just before this baby falls out of my butt.
We had a tad bit of a scare a couple weeks ago. I woke up at 3am with heartburn so bad I was choking and couldn’t breathe. At first I was more annoyed than scared. But that’s me. Get angry first and then cry. I got up and went to the living room so my husbandito could finish his REM cycle. I sat down with my legs propped up trying to catch my breath and decide whether to call the firefighters to knock out the wildfire in my throat. Suddenly my hands and feet swelled in a frighteningly short amount of time and a headache ensued. Since I haven’t had a headache in months I thought it wasn’t a good sign. I retreated to the bedroom, woke up Paul who of course wants to call the OB nurse. I’ve decided that whichever nurse you call they are ALWAYS going to tell you to go in to the ER. Working in the ER myself we get countless amounts of minor issues who say, “the nurse from the hotline told us to come in” of course she did, she can’t see you and even though she’s probably thinking “you’re fine, you ninny-muggin” she’s saying, “get it checked, sir or m’am”. I knew this but I panicked and worse, Paul panicked in his deliriously sleepy mind, so we listened to her. It didn’t help that she added, “Well, it could be preclampsia or a blood clot in her lungs”. Oh sweet. Those two options sound nice. So we get in the car and drive and so starts our trial run.
Problem #1: We weren’t quite sure how to get there. We hadn’t been to our hospital before. (The one I work at is less than two miles from us, but the one we're supposed to go to is 20 minutes away…damn insurance restrictions)
Problem #2: Gas gauge says empty and a couple miles into our drive the light comes on. Just peachy.
Problem #3: Headlight is out. We’d known about this for a couple days but our work and sleep schedules had prevented us from making it to the mechanic during opening hours and we’d been told we couldn't change it ourselves. Believe me, I tried.
Problem #4: Police noticing the missing headlight decided to follow us. And when we crossed city lines, another took up interest. Sweet alfalfa, an escort.
What we learned:
A. The hospital is father than we thought
B. There are 5 gas stations on the way there, 2 of which are not open 24/7.
3. One road has construction. The other has a LOT of red lights.
D. Get a mechanic who will do house calls.
5. Oh, and pack a bag in case we have to stay.
I think that about sums it up. So far, no more embarrassing ER visits where they run your lab work, tell you everything is fine and add, just for good measure, this your first? um hmm.
The acclaimed bout of second trimester energy was short-lived and I’m back to being exhausted most of the time as I enter my eighth month today. And of course, comments and horror birth stories from co-workers, patients, strangers and friends are never in short-supply. “I have this friend who…” “I know this gal who…” “How much time do you have left? Geez. Are you sure you’re not having twins?” One more twin comment and I’m going to start handing people a Doppler heart monitor and say, “If you can find a second heart-beat, I’ll give you a prize.”
Swimming flutter kicks and arm strokes: 6a-8a
Chicken dance routine: 11a-2p
Zumba, M/W/F: 3-3:30 (it’s more intense so I’m assuming he likes to break it up)
Pull up to Umbilical Bar for some refreshments
Intermittent personalized stretching: 5-10p
*All this to prepare him for his favorite nightly workout:
Cage-fighting!!: 11p-4a
Can the inside of a uterus get bruised? Because I’m pretty sure mine is.
I’ve created a liver, lungs, lips and the bones are hardening. My biggest challenge now is to maintain the delicate balance of eating while appeasing the fire-breathing dragon parked in my throat. One minute I’m so ravenously hungry I could absolutely picture myself eating the entire buffet at a Ruby Tuesdays, then after only 3 bites, I pull my shoulders back and crane up at the ceiling, hoping that my table aerobics will create even the tiniest more room for food that I desperately want. Two more bites after that, the dragon is back, spitting tiny balls of flame, reminding me, he indeed exists.
My recent inner dialogue is not unlike that of a deep-sea divers journal entries while trapped under the sea in some lengthy bizarre experiment:
11/15/11: There is a strange burning sensation in my throat. I’ve eaten the rations I’ve been provided. Could I have possibly swallowed some sea water? I’ve been under orders to increase my portions to allow for the increased burning of calories but I’m finding it harder to consume it all.
11/20/11: A severe increase in bubbles emitting from the lower valves accompanied by a noise I have never heard before. Could my wetsuit be compromised?
11/20/11: I believe I crop-dusted some unsuspecting sea life.
11/21/11: Abdominal muscles are beginning to appear severely distended. Could it be the illusion of my mask or am I weakening? The fish are starting to stare.
12/05/11: An increase in the burning sensation. At first I was able to link it to certain rations. It now appears to come and go at will. I have taken to nibbling kelp.
12/07/11: Crop-dusted a whale. I do not feel bad.
12/10/11: My export is not matching my import. Something needs to be done about this or my abdomen might explode its already stretched capacity.
12/13/11: My endurance is lessening. I am weakening. This is not good. I am not exactly sure what lies ahead but I’m beginning to think I am less prepared for it than I’d like to be.
12/15/11: I have increased my exercise regimen. It’s not helping. My abdomen continues to distend further.
12/16/11: Burning sensation increases. Is my throat permanently scalded?
12/22/11: My ability to take a deep breath has officially begun to diminish. It is as though something is creeping up from below and pushing, nay, shoving up on my lungs. Must surface soon. Alas, while I’ve been told my specimen is now viable, my surface contact informs me that at least 3 more months is optimal.
12/23/11: Burning sensation constant. Bubble emitting constant. Distended abdomen now constant and possibly suffering irreparable damage. Formulating a proposal to the big boss man in which my partner will undergo the experiment next time.
