So, I'm NOT Having a 20 Pound Baby?

I only gained 9 ounces in two weeks...so sayeth my doctor. Woo! Now THAT'S more like it, people.

Everything looked right on track at the appointment. The doc measured the belly, felt around for the head and positioning, and had a little chat with the boy-to-be. All in all, a fairly uneventful appointment. Nothing to see here...move along, move along.

However, before she kicked us to the curb, I asked my pre-written post-it note questions and she answered them succinctly:

1) Do I have to sleep on my left side? Well, yes, but not completely rolled over, if that's uncomfortable. Just prop yourself up with a pillow. A slight angle is fine.

2) Do I have a weird cancerous lump in my breast? Hmm...probably not, but let's make a note of it and check to see if it has changed in two weeks. It's hard to discern with your breasts being 9 months pregnant.

3) Any recommendations on a pediatrician? Someone I need to bribe? Nope...they're all great. However, there were a few mentioned...no hints. I want him/her all to myself. And she/he has to be tolerant of major anxiety and/or speak the language of crazy fluently.

Week 37...FULL TERM, BABY!

The Pre-Worry of Postpartum

I'm a worrier. I stress out. I've been trained to be overly concerned about every little thing. For this reason, I'm prone to depression and feelings of worthlessness. This is why I'm thinking about postpartum depression 3 weeks before my due date.

Now, I know more than most about the issues of depression because I've dealt with it for decades. But the only concrete thing I can put my finger on is that depression is so complicated, its facets so fractured and splintered, that it's impossible to predict or completely cure.

On many baby sites, I see the title "Baby Blues" characterized by the typical symptoms of mood swings, anxiety, sadness, irritability, crying, decreased concentration and trouble sleeping. This is considered the lesser form of postpartum depression, and caused by hormonal changes after birth.

Postpartum depression proper is characterized with more detail, appearing to be "Baby Blues" at first, but then lingering and turning uglier with a loss of appetite, insomnia, intense irritability or anger, lack of joy in life, feelings of shame, guilt or inadequacy, severe mood swings, difficulty bonding with the baby, withdrawal from family and friends and thoughts of harming yourself or baby.

Postpartum psychosis is the severest form of depression caused by childbirth. It typically develops within two weeks of delivery and include confusion and disorientation, hallucinations and delusions, paranoia, and attempts to harm yourself or the baby.

As I anxiously await the birth of this baby boy, I feel the pressure building and pressing down. I can literally feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. The baby is coming, no doubt about it. The labor and delivery will be hard and painful, as everyone has been repeating over and over again (which has not been helpful, btw.)

But the hardest sell has been the hope that everything will be ok AFTER the birth. Knowing myself, knowing my husband, I don't know if we can handle another bout of severe depression in this relationship. Add a demanding little baby into that mix and there may be more to attend to than my aching uterus after labor and delivery.

Week 36, Month 9

Here's what's going on...occasionally, baby puts his head on my bladder and uses it as a pillow. This gives me a sharp and distinctive need to pee every few minutes. Not pleasant when more than 10 feet away from a bathroom, and it makes going outside a little daunting.

The pelvic pain is anywhere between mild discomfort to severe head-pounding pain.

Bellybutton has NOT popped, although it threatens to every time I eat a big meal.

Stretch marks still suck.

The carpal tunnel has gone from worse to better to much, much worse. Basically, I'm living with tingling, aching fingers 24/7, and not in a good way. It makes driving a stick shift impossible at this point, so I am chauffeured around by hub when he has time, which is never. So what I'm saying is I'M TRAPPED IN MY HOUSE WATCHING THE TLC NETWORK. HELP...ME...

I'm tired, but not exhausted, basically because I can't sleep without waking every two minutes. Good practice, I'm told, for getting up in the middle of the night for feedings. I'm napping all throughout the day, but lightly. These are not naps of substance...no REM. Just light snoozes to keep me going.

I've also been trying to sleep on my left side, as most pregnancy guides recommend, but it's hard. I dislike the position, and always end up on my back (which is considered bad for the baby.) "Left side only" is the rule. Apparently, it is better for blood flow to the placenta. The body pillow I purchased is pretty awesome, even if it doesn't keep my oversized belly from tipping over in the middle of the night. It's not called "The Super Duper Miracle Pillow" after all. What can one expect? I weigh a metric ton.

I'm eating less, but we shall see what that means when I break the scale at next week's appointment.

I'm grumpy. Really grumpy. Being stuck in the house watching birthing stories on TV doesn't help. Trying to nest while you're waddling at a snail's pace around the house makes things frustrating. Trying to decipher every pain, nudge, tingle, ache and cramp is heart-stopping.

But, the good news...he's moving like a little speedster all over my uterus, so he has room in there. It's a constant movement that happens every time I sit still for two minutes. I don't understand why women (and dumb boys) told me I'd hate the sensation...because I LOVE it. It's amazing to feel this little boy pushing the walls of my belly. I think I will miss it when he's born, actually. There's no other feeling in the world like this. But we'll see how I feel at 40 weeks...maybe I'll be sending an eviction notice instead of rejoicing about the miracle of life then.

More good news...99% of all babies born at this point survive with no extra help. In fact, doc said that if he came now, she wouldn't stop him. After hearing her say that, my heart jumped into my throat and everything became hazy. I had the sudden realization that I could have a baby any day now and it would be HERE IN REAL LIFE.

Yikes. I think I just swallowed my gum.

Eeks!

The nursery is finally done, and along with a sense of relief and happiness comes an overwhelming wave of anxiety and fear. In about one month I will have a little son bubbling and gurgling and looking like Winston Churchill. I'm officially freaked out.

Honestly, for 9 months I've felt strangely detached, unaffected, calm. It wasn't that I wasn't excited or grateful about the baby. I just felt apart from the whole situation, as if I was watching someone else on television going through the pregnancy.

But now I'm starting to feel sudden panic attacks. They're small, but they're real, and they're making my heart race with anticipation.

On the list of things I usually think about that trigger the attacks are (in no particular order):

1) The baby will have down syndrome.

2) The baby will be sick or have some sort of genetic abnormality.

3) The baby will be humongous and the labor will be terrifying.

4) The hospital stay will be horrible and will scar me for life.

5) I will have the worst post-partum depression in the history of the world.

6) I will never lose the weight and become morbidly obese and a shut in. They will have to bury me in a piano box when I die.

7) The baby will hate me.

8) I have no idea what I'm doing and will be a horrible mother.

9) My husband will be the fun parent. I will be the strict, resented parent.

I didn't say they were all reasonable fears, btw. I know I may be going insane and just picking things out of thin air to be afraid of. That's usually how I roll, even without pregnancy and a baby on the way.

10) Add that to the list: I will go insane.

Seriously. I think I weigh more than Mike Tyson.

177. That's 33 pounds gained in 35 weeks. That's a big number. No wonder everything is creaking and I'm waddling around like a sea lion.

I went from 172 to 177 in 3 weeks, making my weight gain a very hefty 1.5 pounds a week...and that's rounding DOWN.

The doc said that I was within "the range," whatever that may be, and have gained about 33 pounds in my almost 9 months of being an incubator. I was shocked to hear that number so soon...33 pounds. YOWZA.

"Oh, you'll just have to lose more later. That's all. It's perfectly fine." She smiled as she measured my belly. "You're measuring great and everything looks terrific."

I think I may pass out when I finally get to 10 months. That's right...I said it...TEN MONTHS. I figured that one out the first month I was pregnant when I was counting down the weeks in my calendar.

So to recap:

Start weight 144

153 - 18 weeks - 9 pounds gained - 0.5 pound a week

164 - 24 weeks - 20 pounds gained - 0.54 pound a week

169 - 28 weeks - 25 pounds gained - 1.25 pounds a week

172 - 32 weeks - 28 pounds gained - 0.75 pound a week

177 - 35 weeks - 33 pounds gained - 1.6 pounds a week

5 Week Countdown

I've learned a few things this week...

1) Papaya, water and ground flax seed are your friends, although not all at once. Put it in your cereal, oatmeal, or yogurt to help with constipation. What? TMI?

2) Nothing gets rid of crippling pelvic pain...water, exercise, rest, prayer...ZIP, NOTHIN', NADA.

3) Husbands mean well, but know not what they do. Saying things like, "Oh, don't worry. You'll lose the weight!" is NOT HELPFUL and in fact puts a lot of pressure on. Saying things like, "I don't give a &$#% what you weigh. I love you no matter what, mother of my unborn child!" is PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE. Know it. Say it. Survive to live another day.

4) That fat feeling is not going away any time soon. Breast feeding is not the miracle weight loss cure. You will be overweight until you become a marathon runner. Love your body, even though it goes against every magazine, television show, and Neiman Marcus sales person you see every day.

5) In-laws are God's test to see if you are patient enough to be a parent. They will call you twice a day, every day, for the last three months of your pregnancy. They will threaten to be at the birth. They will offer to stay at your house for weeks on end as soon as you have the baby, thinking they're being "helpful." You are perfectly within your right to say NO WAY. They're not being helpful by being house guests. They are dying to see the baby. That's all. It's selfish on their part, although not purposefully so. SAY NO TO STRESS.

6) Your bladder is now a step stool for the baby. Map out the entire city so you know where every clean bathroom is located. You will be running to them every time you leave the house.

7) There are some stupid people out there that think it's ok to make rude commentary on your situation, although they are complete strangers. Just to recap previous posts: It is NOT OK to say, "GOD YOU LOOK ENORMOUS." or "ARE YOU EXPECTING TWINS?!" Nor is it ok to touch/rub/molest the belly, if you are a stranger. PERSONAL SPACE does not disappear as soon as someone conceives a baby...stupid.

8) Punching said stupid people is against the law. Although I don't think any jury on the planet would convict me. I won't test my theory, though. I am far too pregnant for jail.

9) Baby shows on TLC will make you freak out eventually. At first they'll be inspiring. Then, they'll be intriguing. After four months of watching, TERRIFYING. Natural births and water baths usually have the women screaming for death.

10) Boredom and loneliness come with not being able to drive or leave the house at 9 months pregnant. So does depression. It's hard to stay upbeat and excited when your carpal tunnel is preventing you from escaping the Law and Order marathons.

11) Men really DO think they will poke the baby if they have sex with you. Really. No, I'm not kidding.

Week 35

Baby Class Backlash

I went to baby class. Baby class was 4 hours long. I hated baby class.

The class itself might have been helpful, if it had been planned out, organized, and if they actually gave us more than one 10 minute break. Four hours is a looooooong time for pregnant women to sit in uncomfortable chairs.

I had a hard time after an hour, and started squirming in my chair like someone had dropped a feral cat down my pants. After 60 minutes, I was in serious discomfort...however, it was excruciating after 90 minutes. Most of the women began wandering aimlessly in and out the door after a while, looking for food, water, and the bathroom. It was sad and not unlike a zombie movie...except with third trimester bellies.

The instructor was, for lack of a better word, frustrating. I want to say she was terrible, but honestly, she was just incompetent to teach. There was no sort of organization, no lesson plan passed out. Posters were strewn about the floor and on the table in no decipherable order. There was nothing handed out, nothing explained about what we were about to discuss in 4 hours. She admitted to not being organized that morning, and every time she finished explaining something to us in a long, drawn out rambling discussion, she would finish off with, "Ok, and what else...hmm..." It was very disconcerting and did not make me feel confident in the hospital where I would be giving birth. I thought more than a few times, "I wonder if CPMC will let me give birth there? I wonder how much that would be?"

Questions were taken randomly and at any time during the lecture, so the hours dragged on and on. A few women overtook the instructor more than a dozen times, asking redundant and sometimes ridiculous questions that were better answered by their personal physicians. The instructor, having no control over the class, tried answering the questions as they came, which prolonged everything beyond the time alloted. It was horrible to sit and wait quietly, just to see someone's hand go up again. I came close to freaking out and screaming, "STOP RAISING YOUR HAND SO WE CAN GET THE #@+$&# OUT OF THIS CLASS!!"

But did I leave? NO. I had to see the tour. That was my goal...I thought, "I can do this. I can last until the tour of the maternity ward. I MUST SEE THE LABOR ROOM."

We were scheduled to see the room. Instead, we talked. And talked. And listened and talked. We breathed a few times. Then, we watched THE OTHER CLASS go to the labor room in our stead, since we were STILL #$%$ TALKING AND BREATHING. Mind you, this was 3 hours in to the class.

Finally, by the grace of God, we went on our tour. Thinking it was going to be informative, structured, and exciting, I smiled and skipped down the halls, looking at all the scary equipment with a grin and a giggle. YAYYYY FOR LABOR ROOMS!

Then, our instructor introduced us to the older, grey-haired security guard and told the following anecdotal story: "We had a kidnapping exercise at the hospital and THIS woman stopped the man from taking the baby onto the elevator. She just wouldn't let him on! Even though she was reprimanded for doing so, since employees are not to let themselves get hurt during emergencies...you should feel safe knowing this woman, (if she's on duty,) will not let your baby leave the premises!"

There was nervous laughter, and then we continued. I just stood, stunned, thinking, "AND HOW DID THE DUDE GET THAT FAR?! OUT OF THE NURSERY AND TO THE ELEVATOR?!"

I cried when we got home, thinking, I do NOT want to have my baby at a place where the only thing keeping someone from kidnapping my newborn is a 60+ security guard.

Just the thought of going through another 4 hours next week gives me the shakes. I was perfectly fine with the thought of laboring this baby out of my uterus until this class...and now, the anxiety has settled into my bones. Let's hope it doesn't last for the rest this pregnancy. Ugh.

Prunes, Prunes, the Magical Fruit

I'm starting to realize that as the weeks go on, the symptoms of 3rd Trimester are sneaking up on me. They were dormant for so long, I took for granted the great experience that is pregnancy and was actually beginning to enjoy the baby kicks, the tummy, the no-symptom life.

However, about two weeks ago, I started feeling heavier, sluggish and slower. Things that came easily to me before were suddenly nearly impossible to do. I couldn't move from a position without crippling pelvic pain. I couldn't sleep in any position I wanted anymore. I had to make room for the belly.

Slowly the symptoms have been multiplying. Constipation is one of them, which has been a literal pain in the ass. I'm starting to eat things my grandma wouldn't have touched, just to get things moving down there. Still nothing.

The carpal tunnel has been the constant since the 2nd trimester, but it has lightened up a tad, except when driving or writing.

Because of the weight and the pelvic pain, walking down the street has become a crap shoot. Since walking up and down the stairs winds me, I can't just run out the door anymore. When I start thinking about a trip to the corner store, I automatically fear the worst and have a conversation with myself..."If I go down the street, will I make it back up? Will I be trapped at Walgreens forever?!"

All of these things put together has trapped me in the house and put me in a foul mood. Lately, when I've been accosted by people on the street, asking me my due date, making rude comments about my size, asking if I'm expecting twins and then laughing maniacally...I've come very close to punching them in the neck.

I could give birth in jail. Who knows?

Week 34

24 Hours of Not Being Able to Move

7:00 a.m. Wake up for no apparent reason.

7:15 a.m. Finally roll out of bed...literally.

7:30 a.m. Amble up the stairs like I'm 90 years old.

8:00 a.m. Sit on the couch and catch my breath.

8:15 a.m. Eat breakfast, usually whatever I see first, which is not a good tactic.

8:45 a.m. Lay on the couch and watch whatever crap is on T.V.

12 noon Lunch...same tactic as breakfast.

12:30 p.m. Lay on the couch and watch whatever crap is on T.V.

2:00 p.m. Start feeling nervous, anxious, freaked out about not being able to do anything.

2:30 p.m. Think about how depressed I am because I can't do anything useful anymore.

3:00 p.m. Wait for hub to come home at 4:00. Watch more Law and Order.

4:00 p.m. Start getting mad that hub is not home yet.

4:30 p.m. Get mad at hub as he walks in the door late.

5:00 p.m. Starving for dinner, make hub take me out for a meal.

6:30 p.m. Work on the baby stuff...which is basically telling hub what to move and where.

8:00 p.m. Tired, sit on the couch and catch my breath.

9:00 p.m. Lie in bed and try to get comfortable.

10:00 p.m. Still not comfortable.

11:00 p.m. Daily Show.

12:00 p.m. Finally fall asleep after two trips to the bathroom.

2:00 a.m. Bathroom.

5:00 a.m. Bathroom.

7:00 a.m. Internal alarm wakes me up for another identical day.

Week 33