Posts tagged ‘pregnancy’
As much as I have always preached that a due date is NOT like an expiration date on a carton of milk, omgiamsodonebeingpregnantwtfbabywillyougetthefuckoutalready!!!!!!!!!!!! As of now, I’m 10 days past my EDD given to me by an OB; 6 days past the EDD given to me by a local crisis pregnancy center when I first found out I was pregnant and had no idea when I was due.
Either way, I’m a few days past sanity.
For a pregnancy that has been so physically easy, this wayyyyyyy past my due date thing is psychologically very taxing.
I really hate to think about my birth experience as anything other than flowers and rainbows and puppies, but at this point it seems like a means to an end. That will take place at home. While I’m surrounded by friends and My Chemical Romance — and even my mom! But still: means to an end, BABY!
Here’s my day:
1:00AM: Wake up to use bathroom. Note that the nightsweats are not, in fact, my water breaking. Check toilet for bloody show. None. Sigh. Go back to bed — if possible. If not, read some gossip online and eventually fall asleep.
4:30AM: My Chemical Romance’s alarm clock goes off (every 9 minutes until about 7am). Wake up and announce to him that I’m still pregnant. Cry. Ask for reassurance that I’m not going to be pregnant forever — and that if I am, he’ll still have time off work after the alleged baby is allegedly born.
8:00AM: Wake up to screaming from kids. My mom is here to wrangle them — arriving 5 days AFTER my due date, she was supposed to help me with the baby — and the luster has worn off for all of them. At least I don’t have to feed them breakfast. Thanks mom! Get out of bed. Note I’m still pregnant. Cry. Try to reassure myself that I won’t be pregnant forever. Shower. Moisture heavily — my house is DRY. Put on maternity clothes that I thought I’d be finished with weeks ago — or at least, if I was still wearing them, they would be postpartum clothes.
10:00AM: Drag kids somewhere. Discovery Place, the movies, library, errands. Pray that we’ll have to turn around and leave because I start feeling contractions… to no avail. Lunch.
1:00PM: Nap for The Informant, My Masterpiece (who naps in my bed with me), and me. Quiet time for Animal, Mineral, and Mom.
4:00PM: Make dinner/start thinking about where to go for dinner. Note that most of the day is over and apparently today isn’t the day I’m having the baby. Cry. Ignore phone calls, and don’t call anyone unless absolutely necessary, lest I have to start the conversation with, “I’m not in labor but…”
5:00PM: My Chemical Romance arrives home. Dinner. Post-dinner weepiness that I’m still pregnant. Negotiations with My Chemical Romance over who gets to put kids to bed. Check Facebook — although I’m not posting, because I have nothing to say except that I’m still pregnant and I’m tired of the comments about it.
7:00PM – 9:00PM: Eat. Watch TV. Knit scarf for Wii that should be done in a few years.
9:00PM: Get into bed with book. Note that I’m still pregnant. Cry.
Dinner out with The Informant and My Masterpiece (while Animal and Mineral are at their very first sleepover!)
Also, a 12-hour night sleep, and banana pancakes that did NOT have the consistency of a rubber tire. I don’t know why, but My Chemical Romance’s pancakes are always really rubbery. Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones or some weird pancake craving that led me to announce to him, while still half-asleep, that I wanted pancakes from scratch but that his always taste like rubber tire. Luckily he was not offended. He’s seen me pregnant before, and that was probably the least-offensive thing I’ve ever said while past my due date. He asked, like the good scientist he is, was it the taste or was it the texture? I said texture. He said maybe he’s overmixing the batter. Perhaps pancakes are like brownies, which should always be hand-mixed, and never over stirred.
And, he took all four kids to the mall (!!!) where they waited an hour in line to see Santa. My Masterpiece was scared to death of Santa, so she didn’t get in the family picture. While at the mall, they purchased Christmas gifts for me. And they were gone long enough for me to watch 16 and Pregnant, Glee, and Oprah.
Also #2: he told me I’m not very complain-y, especially compared to the last two pregnancies. I said being down 100lbs probably helps; I’m not having any physical issues. Yes, I feel kind of like a whale, but so do most 40w1d pregnant women. My whale-ism isn’t anything new.
For the last few days I’ve noticed some hormonal changes, and I’m
hoping wondering if this is my body getting close to labor and birth. I’m starting to have night sweats again, I’m breaking out on my face, and I’m getting more crazy with each passing day. I kind of feel like I’m back in my first tri, except with 40 extra lbs. I originally went to the doctor because of the night sweats, thinking I was having some kind of endocrine issue. Nope! Just pregnancy!
I’m so excited to find out if Tax Deduction is a girl or a boy. I’ve gone back and forth so many times in this pregnancy, first thinking it was a boy, then girl for a looooooooooong time, now boy again. I just don’t know. This pregnancy has been a weird mixture of more and less intense than my others. It’s more intense because of my weight loss; I can feel a lot more than I could with all the others, and I’m more knowledgeable about the process. It’s less intense because — duh! — I’m a lot more busy with the older kids. A clerk at Tar*get will say something to me about how it’s getting close and I’m thinking, “Close to what, exactly? Oh, yeah. I’m having a baby.” I feel like not knowing the sex inhibits the bonding I’ve felt with the other kids. With the others, I would think, “Hey, The Informant, how did you like this Thanksgiving meal? Pretty good huh?” but now I think, “Hey baby who might be XX or XY and we’re still not 100% certain on a name, what do you think of…” and by the time the sentence is out I’m totally distracted by something else anyway.
Last night I was having some intense back pain, thinking, “This is it… maybe…?” but nope. I took a bath and went to bed. It was probably from doing “too much” on Thanksgiving. All that cooking, plus I moved a Graco Nautilus car seat from my garage into the house, so that The Happy Mathlete could borrow it.
Next Friday is My Chemical Romance’s birthday and it might be sort of cool if the baby shared his birthday.
1. Type. Type. Type. Type.
2. No editing, deleting, backspace-ing, or re-reading what I just wrote.
3. Type at every chance I got, even if it was for 10 minutes while the water for noodles was cooking.
Things I did NOT do:
1. Listen to music while I typed
2. Have a detailed outline or plot
3. Meet up with other local NaNoWriMos. (Although two Jugs members are participating, so we did talk things out a little.)
4. Use a notebook or anything when I was away from my computer or laptop, to jot down ideas.
Honestly, I found it more TEDIOUS than anything. Every day, it was like homework looming over my head, that I had to get done before I could go do anything fun.
I incorporated some elements of my life (the main character is a nurse at an infusion center who treats an anemic pregnant woman who is planning a homebirth; the main male character goes to a 72-hour drug detox — I volunteered at one when I was in collgege; there’s a subplot involving an unplanned pregnancy), some totally random stuff (main male character is an injured war vet; there’s a character who is a seminary student, as well as a divorced dad college professor), and just some random stuff for fun (a character’s mother is a very famous actress). That is pretty much it — I kept the plot simple enough so that I didn’t have to take notes. I didn’t mention any specific details about location or time frame (except several references to September 11).
And that was it. I feel a little more free now — I don’t have anything hanging over my head. Who knew I was an anti-procrastinator?
Actually now I’m thinking of what I NEED for Tax Deduction. I have boobs that are already producing milk. I have tons of cloth diapers. I got a lot of baby clothes at my shower/blessing. I would still like: My Breast Friend (Nice-Nice and Das Cinderella are both giving me their old ones; I’ll have an upstairs Breast Friend and a downstairs Breast Friend), Utterly Yours breast pillow; a TV with a remote so I can watch Netflix while I nurse; and some more freezer meals.