Week 24

Lunchbox Alternative

Every night I take off my humongous bra, and nearly every night I find food.  Weird food.  And mostly food I don't remember having eaten.  Disturbing to most, a tasty midnight snack for pregnant women who can't bend down to eat things off the floor.  Yes, I'm starving.

And really, if I'm starving, so is the baby.  (Insert additional common rationalization for disgusting behavior here.)

The other night, I reached down and felt something poke me.  French fry.  When did I eat a french fry last?  For the life of me, I can not remember.  Said French fry was dry, hard, and a peculiar color that would not be of any fried potato on the planet. 

Knowing full well there was a refrigerator full of fresh, lovely food upstairs, I questioned whether it was worth waddling myself up to the top floor of my house for a nutritious snack.  And when I asked myself that particular question, there was no answer.  (*pregnant craving crickets*)

The answer to your upcoming question is a shameful YES. 

The Pregnant Pause

Just lately, random kids have started pointed at my belly and saying things to me.  Mostly, "Is there a BABY in there?"

And I always try to answer thoughtfully, knowing that since the release of Alien, Aliens, and Alien 3, there are different ways to reply to that particular question.

My first reply is always the very calm, "Yes, there is a baby in there."

But honestly, my first urge is to start screaming uncontrollably, drop to the floor and start writhing, all the while screaming, "ALIEN!! ALIEN!!"

My child hasn't been born yet, so you would have no case with Child Protective Services, FYI.

Papaya

Week 23

You and Me, and Me and You

The one thing about this pregnancy that has been difficult to reconcile is the ridiculous amount of advice/warnings/stories/tales of terror I have been hearing from nearly every mother on the face of the planet.  If there is a woman within a five block radius or internet connection of me who has had the experience of having grown a human inside her uterus, I have heard from her.  

Although it's friendly and not meant to be unkind (for the most part) I can't say it's not annoying.  I love good, helpful advice about doctors, hospitals, and whatnot.  However, the stories that start and/or end with the phrase "just you wait" (usually said in an ominous tone, or worse, with a laugh at my expense) are more than annoying...it's downright nasty.

I'm a big proponent of knowledge.  I like knowing what will happen next, being the control freak I am, and I often Google to the point of stupidity.  

But it's hard to hear over and over and over again from pretty much every woman on the planet who has had children, "You know nothing, stupid.  Let me enlighten you."

What makes it all the more difficult is that the "great" advice I have heard so far has been WRONG...at least, in my case.  Nothing I've been told would happen has happened yet.  All the freaky stories about the 1st trimester have not applied to me so far.  And now, in the 2nd trimester, same story...so all that anxiety and anticipation of horrible things happening were for naught.  For instance:

Trimester 1:  

You will get horrible, debilitating morning sickness.  You will vomit all day and night and won't be able to keep anything down.

You will have the worst mood swings of your life and your husband will think you are possessed by the devil.

You will have terrible back pain from the hormones.

You will have insane cravings for very specific things.

You will get the worst acne of your life.

You will have constipation that will make you want to die.

You will have heartburn and digestive issues from hell.

You will be exhausted to the point of tears.

If you eat tuna you are a bad person because you are hurting your baby.

Trimester 2:

You will have horrible back pain from the weight.

You will gain 30 pounds in a month.

Your feet will swell to the size of large bricks.

Your gums will rot and bleed until your teeth fall out.

You will not be able to sleep because the baby will kick you so much.

You won't be sleeping at all, actually, because you will be so uncomfortable.

Trimester 3 and delivery:

You're going to be ripped apart by the delivery.

Labor is going to suck so bad you'll want to kill yourself.

You will have to have an episiotomy.  And it will hurt like hell.

You're going to want to induce after 38 weeks, you'll be so huge.

You'll be so unhappy by the time you're full term, you won't remember how happy you are right now.

The baby will be huge and the head will rip your vagina to shreds.

I spent many a night tossing and turning about all of the above, thinking at any moment all or most of these things were going to plague me to the point of hating my pregnancy and curse this poor unsuspecting fetus.  Instead, none of the above happened.  Not even a little drop of vomit.  

Now, the 3rd Trimester may be just as horrible as they say.  I have no clue.  This is all new to me.  But the thing is, it's MY pregnancy.  It's MY experience.  Let me have it, because it will undoubtedly be totally different than yours.

I love my friends.  But the "advice" wasn't coming off as advice.  Instead, it felt more like a schoolyard teasing...nyah nyah, you're going to be MISERABLE.  Just you wait and see.  

I'm not miserable, not by a longshot.  This pregnancy has been swell, by all accounts.  

But I certainly don't need help being paranoid and anxious.  I do very well with that all on my own, thanks.

Size of a Spaghetti Squash at Week 22

Week 22

Who is that knocking at my door?

Is it gas?  Am I hungry?  None of the above.  It's the baby kicking, and making himself known as the master of my uterus.  When he is awake, he is AWAKE...kicking and poking.  In fact, the only time he's not punching the walls is when the husband puts his freezing cold hands on my stomach and begs for the baby to do something.  Even if baby was doing tumbling moves a second before, all is completely calm as soon as husband's calloused hands touch my skin.  It's hilariously entertaining for me.  Not so much for the husband.

The baby kicking me has brought a whole new dimension to the pregnancy.  It's more real now, and I can believe that I may be harboring a human in my body.  Weird and amazing.

You would think the fact I'm shaped like a nesting doll would have convinced me earlier.  

Week 21

Banana Baby

We are Pregnant

I've finally come to believe that yes, I am pregnant.  This is not a bowling ball, it's a baby.  I did not eat too many cheeseburgers, I am growing a human.  It took a good 5 months to believe it, but I'm finally ready to accept the fact that I will have a baby in 4 months.  Whew.

Although we purchased a video recorder, I can't seem to get up the nerve to actually be on camera.  Feeling like a bloated bouncy house may have something to do with it.  Mostly, it's because of my vanity, and I am wholly ashamed of myself for being so conceited.  But when your clothes look like they're three sizes too small for your body, you don't always feel so photogenic.  

This week, I have vowed to get over myself and finally allow pictures and video to be taken.  This will prove to be a difficult task, since even before I was pregnancy heavy I hated getting pictures taken.  I believe in that belief that a photograph STEALS YOUR SOUL.

Ok, not really.  But it was worth a shot.  I'm looking at any excuse at this point, although I know I will regret not having photos after the fact.  I do want the baby to have something to see, a sort of chronicle of his pre-birth.  I love my baby videos and I want him to have the same opportunity to watch them when he's old enough to laugh at how cute he was...or in my case, unbelievably fat.

Week 21 is nearly here, and I wait for it with unbearable anticipation.  It's passing slowly.  I wait for the day when I can relax and actually enjoy this pregnancy like everyone says I should.  However, I still check for movement and signs of life every morning.  I can't seem to get past the idea that there is something wrong, and it hangs on me like an albatross.

The idea that I might have a Down Syndrome child has crossed my mind every five minutes for the entire five months I've been pregnant.  I can't help thinking about the unknown every minute of the day, which makes me think that maybe we should have risked doing the amnio.  

However, husband was so committed to NOT doing the amnio (with the risk of miscarriage at 1:300) I agreed to put it away with the rest of my fears and deal with not having a definitive answer.  

I have to be ok with the outcome, no matter what, since I would not have wanted to terminate regardless of Down Syndrome or not.  But the not knowing makes me a crazy person.  I am far more of a control freak than I thought I was.  

Be prepared...it's not just the Boy Scout motto after all.

The New Goal

Premature Birth Survival Rates

23 weeks-17%

24 weeks-39%

25 weeks-50%

30 weeks-90%

Cantaloupe!

Week 20-Halfway Point