I took a short break from my blog this week. For one, I didn't want to get into the habit of blogging on a daily basis (we all know that's not going to happen when the babe gets here anyway). I've also been dealing with neighbor issues - one of the many joys of apartment life, and I visited with a couple of friends this week.
And, I shamefully got sucked into season one of Orange Is The New Black. Did anyone else watch this? I have to say, if not for the convenience of watching the whole season with no commercials, I don't know that I would have been a fan. The main character is so whiny and annoying and I found the story lines to be really predictable. That being said, I watched the whole season in 3 days. <---Guilty.
So this whole third trimester emotional-crazy-person-fear-of-labor-nesting thing? Yeah, it's real. Last night I had a complete meltdown about labor and "something bad" happening. I joked throughout most of my pregnancy that I was probably going to have a terrible labor & delivery because my pregnancy was so easy. Well, I'm not joking anymore. I'm actually afraid that is what will happen on the big day. Last night, in between sobs, I told Colin to tell the baby that I love him and that it's not his fault if anything happens to me. That it surely would be payback for all of the awful things I've ever done in my life. Morbid, I know. Who thinks this way??
Probably someone who is afraid that her apartment is going to burn down because her neighbor and his druggie friends keep flicking their cigarette butts into the bushes outside her apartment! Or into a plastic tub sitting on their balcony with no water in it that ohbytheway, was on fire 2 weeks ago. I'm no scientist but I'm pretty sure fire + plastic = bad news. Unfortunately, there's not much we can do aside from replacing the batteries in our one, measly smoke alarm and discussing how I would escape a second floor apartment with a baby and a cat should the only exit be blocked by a raging fire. Smoking is seriously the most awful, disgusting habit and I'm ashamed to say that I've ever put a cigarette to my lips.
In happier news, I got a visit from an old friend and her brand shiny, new 5-week-old baby earlier this week. He is adorable and she looks amazing - not at all like someone who had a baby 5 weeks ago. They say pregnant people glow but she was radiating happiness. She calmed a lot of my fears about those first few weeks at home with the little guy and it made his imminent arrival seem even more real. And she brought us lots of baby goodies. :)
Which brings me to my next point. That whole nesting thing is absolutely not a wives tale. After my friend left, I realized that I could be her at any moment. This baby could come right now. And I was overcome with the urge to scrub our apartment from floor to ceiling just in case I went into labor that day. This, coming from the girl who cleans religiously every Friday (#loser #Ihavenolife). That was suddenly not good enough. It's like I never realized that I don't usually move furniture to vacuum and how could I have let this go on for so long?! I need to vacuum under the couch. Immediately. Because, you know, the baby is really going to care about that. It's a very strange feeling. Especially for someone who was pretty OCD about the cleanliness of her living space to begin with.
Also, everyone and their sister suddenly wants to see me before the baby gets here. What's up with that? I've been pregnant for 9 months, people. And unemployed (and pretty freaking bored) for 6 of them. While I appreciate the interest in my life and pregnancy, I also don't want to be in the middle of a steak dinner an hour from the hospital when my water breaks. Or on someone else's couch. Or in someone else's car. How embarassing. As you read above, I'm already pretty terrified of labor. I'm not super anxious to leave the comfort of my home (or yoga pants) at this juncture. I promise you will all get to see the baby and hear all about his grand entrance into the world because I'm planning on posting allllllllllllll about it here. In the meantime, have a glass of wine or a beer for me. :)
Sorry for the lack of pictures in this post. I don't have one of any of the above-mentioned activities (although I wish I had photo evidence of the plastic ashtray scene on my neighbor's balcony). I promise to be more exciting next time.
Showing posts with label pregnancy symptoms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy symptoms. Show all posts
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
The Honeymoon is Over
When hubs and I started trying to get pregnant, I did tons of research on pregnancy, getting pregnant, baby products (I think I had half of my registry built before I even saw those two, coveted pink lines)... you name it. I could probably be a midwife I read so much. Ok, maybe not. But I did read a lot.
One of the repeat pieces of information that I came across was that most pregnancies follow this pattern:
First trimester - sick, tired, sick again. Most women feel miserable until about the 12th or 14th week when energy levels will start to rise and nausea will, hopefully, subside. Oh, and you aren't showing at this point so you either have to tell people your complexion is green because you have a 3-month-long flu or bite the bullet and tell them what's really going on (if they haven't already guessed).
Second trimester - the "honeymoon phase." This will be the best and easiest part of pregnancy. You'll be feeling better, you'll start showing, most people will know by now that you're pregnant and will start looking at you with that stupid smirk that only babies, kittens and pregnant people seem to elicit.
Third trimester - the end is near. Basically, you will revert back to first trimester levels of exhaustion, possible nausea and a host of new, uncomfortable symptoms. Things like swollen feet and ankles, difficulty moving, breathing, eating, etc.
My honeymoon phase started the day I took my first pregnancy test. Tuesday, February 12, 2013 to be exact. I had told myself I would wait until Valentine's Day to take a test, but I had one test left from the month before that was burning a hole in my medicine cabinet. I had a feeling that something was different. In fact, I remember waking up that morning and sitting on the edge of the bed thinking, "My whole life could change today," and it did! I was thrilled. Hubs and I had only been trying for two months and we were really lucky to get pregnant so quickly. I took the first test so early that you can barely see the second line:
The baby gets hiccups. All.The.Time. The first time it happened - around week 22 or 23 - it was cute. Hubs and I would put our hands on my belly and feel the little blip!...blip!...blip! of his body jumping with each hiccup. Now, it's just irritating. And sometimes painful - especially if I've just eaten and my stomach feels stretched to the max.
Standing up or walking makes me feel like there is a bowling ball sitting in my pelvic bone and that the bottom is going to drop out at any second.
People start to ask you questions like, "Are you afraid of pooping on the table??" Um, no. I'm afraid my baby is going to have something wrong with him that the tests didn't catch. Or that I won't be able to feed him. Or that we won't be able to afford college or that he'll hate us or that we'll be bad parents. Or that someday some stupid ass drunk driver is going to kill him in a car accident or that I'll lose a tremendous amount of blood during labor and my husband will have to decide which one of us to save. I would poop on the table one million, billion times if it meant avoiding any of the above scenarios.
One of the repeat pieces of information that I came across was that most pregnancies follow this pattern:
First trimester - sick, tired, sick again. Most women feel miserable until about the 12th or 14th week when energy levels will start to rise and nausea will, hopefully, subside. Oh, and you aren't showing at this point so you either have to tell people your complexion is green because you have a 3-month-long flu or bite the bullet and tell them what's really going on (if they haven't already guessed).
Second trimester - the "honeymoon phase." This will be the best and easiest part of pregnancy. You'll be feeling better, you'll start showing, most people will know by now that you're pregnant and will start looking at you with that stupid smirk that only babies, kittens and pregnant people seem to elicit.
Third trimester - the end is near. Basically, you will revert back to first trimester levels of exhaustion, possible nausea and a host of new, uncomfortable symptoms. Things like swollen feet and ankles, difficulty moving, breathing, eating, etc.
My honeymoon phase started the day I took my first pregnancy test. Tuesday, February 12, 2013 to be exact. I had told myself I would wait until Valentine's Day to take a test, but I had one test left from the month before that was burning a hole in my medicine cabinet. I had a feeling that something was different. In fact, I remember waking up that morning and sitting on the edge of the bed thinking, "My whole life could change today," and it did! I was thrilled. Hubs and I had only been trying for two months and we were really lucky to get pregnant so quickly. I took the first test so early that you can barely see the second line:
February 12, 2013
Even Colin, always the realist, said that we shouldn't get our hopes up and that I should buy more tests to take the next day. So I bought 3 more and by 2am on February 13, they were much clearer. Thankyoudigitialclearblueeasy.
February 13, 2013
I sailed through the first 12 weeks with little more than a few "Ew, that doesn't seem appetizing at all," moments. I never threw up, never took a day off from work and had a nice little, barely visible bump by week 13.
13 weeks, 3 days
The second trimester was everything all of the books and doctors and friends said it would be and more. My skin was clearer than ever, my hair was growing like weeds, my appetite was back, I was still working out every day. We found out that we were expecting a healthy baby boy and everything seemed to be going exactly as it should. I even passed the dreaded glucose test on the first try. I waited for the other shoe to drop as I neared the third trimester.
Week 28 came and went. And so did weeks 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 and 34. People were constantly telling me how great I looked - how I only had "a little basketball" of a belly. I even wore a bikini on our beach vacation which elicited the aforementioned "aww, she's pregnant" looks from strangers. I was practically gloating to anyone who asked how I was doing that, "I still feel great!" and "I've only gained 25lbs!" I even went so far as to say, "I don't know why some of these pregnant women complain so much!"
Enter week 35. And backaches. And sleepless nights. And braxton hicks and mood swings like no other. The honeymoon is over. I'm in full-on uncomfortable mode 24/7. Here are just a few of the joyful symptoms that have reared their ugly heads this week:
Eating two bites of food and being full. Even my most favorite foods aren't as enjoyable as they once were because eating more than a few bites of anything makes me feel like the skin on my stomach is going to explode. Or I get heartburn that radiates up to my eyeballs. Or both. Silver lining: this is probably keeping me from gaining more than the recommended 25-35lbs. I'll take it.
Sleeping doesn't happen. Nor does sitting, standing or walking. They tell you when you're pregnant that you're supposed to sleep on your side. I didn't really have a problem with this as I usually did sleep on my side... until now. No matter how many pillows I use to contort my head/belly/feet into what seems like a comfortable position at first, I ultimately end up with rib or hip pain that wakes me out of a dead sleep. Which makes me realize I have to pee (again), which means I have to get up...
Getting up from a supine position, especially after an extended period of time, is not easy. Usually my back and/or hips are so stiff that I have to windmill my body so that I'm laying horizontally on the bed, drop one leg to the floor, and push off with my foot to force the rest of my body into a standing position - kind of like a seesaw. I'm sure it's fun to watch.
I have hemorrhoids. There. I said it. I don't even care because you know what, it or something equally uncomfortable will probably happen to you too, you unsuspecting-happy-woman-who-thinks-she-won't-get-any-weird-pregnancy-symptoms. I was once you. That kind of reminds me of this moment from The Office:
The baby gets hiccups. All.The.Time. The first time it happened - around week 22 or 23 - it was cute. Hubs and I would put our hands on my belly and feel the little blip!...blip!...blip! of his body jumping with each hiccup. Now, it's just irritating. And sometimes painful - especially if I've just eaten and my stomach feels stretched to the max.
Standing up or walking makes me feel like there is a bowling ball sitting in my pelvic bone and that the bottom is going to drop out at any second.
People start to ask you questions like, "Are you afraid of pooping on the table??" Um, no. I'm afraid my baby is going to have something wrong with him that the tests didn't catch. Or that I won't be able to feed him. Or that we won't be able to afford college or that he'll hate us or that we'll be bad parents. Or that someday some stupid ass drunk driver is going to kill him in a car accident or that I'll lose a tremendous amount of blood during labor and my husband will have to decide which one of us to save. I would poop on the table one million, billion times if it meant avoiding any of the above scenarios.
I know it could be worse. And I'm not complaining while I'm complaining, I still feel very lucky and very happy to be pregnant and to have had an overall, easy experience. Sometimes I still can't believe that there is a person - a whole person - growing inside me and that in a few short weeks I am going to be able to kiss his face and watch his tiny fingers curl around mine. The truth is, I would go through it all over again - even the unpleasant parts multiplied 10 times - if I knew meeting this amazing little person was the end result.
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