What *Really* Happens in the Last Month of Pregnancy? (I'm Glad You Asked).

I have a confession: I hate the month of January. Always have. So what- it's cold and it snows. Big deal. Christmas isn't for another 11 months so there's no sense in getting excited about snow anymore. And the Christmas cards that once filled the mailbox have now been replaced with Christmas BILLS. (I'm convinced I have selective short-term memory loss. Really?? I spent THAT much?!) And what else could make the dismal, depressing month of January seem any longer? Getting it on with your husband at the end of the previous May, which apparently gives your little belly-dweller a due date in the first half of February. Yep, I just went there. (I mean, could we NOT have thought about shooting for the end of March and giving ourselves a nice little tax deduction? NOOOooo.) But, because sitting down with a calculator and a bottle of lube isn't exactly an appropriate (or romantic) form of foreplay, we wound up getting ourselves a little pre-Valentine's Day lovebug.

So the countdown is set: 3 weeks- possibly/hopefully/"please-dear-God-in-Heaven" even less- until we meet our little boy. Sometimes, it feels like a dream. And then suddenly, I cough and pee a little and nope, not a dream. I'm fully awake (and now incontinent to boot).

And in keeping with the cough/sneeze/laugh and pee conundrum, a few other things that tell me I'm solidly in the homestretch...


1. Performing the "is this pee or amniotic fluid?" sniff test every day, sometimes several times a day. Sorry, but I don't own any of those dipsticks they give you at the hospital to tell for sure whether or not your water has broken and God gave us noses for a reason. (For the record, you can be assured you've reached a whole new level of security in your marriage when your husband walks in your bedroom to find you holding a pair of underwear to your face and he doesn't even bat an eye anymore).

2. You begin to measure everything in contractions. As in, "I have to walk all the way to the back of the store to get the waffles?? That's a good 3 braxton hicks away...*sigh*" Today, I calculated that a loop around my neighborhood is precisely .9 miles (or approximately 13 braxton hicks). I didn't test it out to see if it was correct though. Math is not my strong point.

3. The belly stares. Not many people seem to acknowledge that I even have a head anymore and I actually find it pretty entertaining. The other day, I walked up to pay for my groceries and the cashier guy looked at me as if I might actually be crowning at that very moment. Maybe I should have asked for a separate bag for the placenta...

4. I waddled up to the bar in one of my favorite local cafes and ordered myself a lovely glass of Cabernet. Then- amidst curious stares- waddled over to a table and very slowly and unsteadily lowered myself into the chair. And then I sat with the glass perched tediously on my belly and let my eyes glaze over as I prepared to enjoy it- all by myself. This is another sign of entering the last month of pregnancy, which is what I also like to call the "I could really give a flying rat's @$$ what you think" month.

5. I can't read stories to Ella anymore without completely losing it. Currently on the "banned" book list are: "I'm a Big Sister," "Guess How Much I Love You?" "Corduroy," and "Love You Forever" (that last book especially does me in, no matter how creepy I think it is that a mother breaks in to her gown-up son's home to hold him in the middle of the night). So Jake does those books with her. Until Milo is born and the hormones calm down, Mommy is relegated to stories about potties, trees, bugs and poop.

6. Every time I've gone to the grocery store recently, I have a moment- albeit brief- when I look at the motorized scooters and have to talk myself down. In my mind, I picture myself zipping right to the bakery for some snickerdoodles and noshing away as I fulfill the rest of my shopping but I would feel pretty bad if an old gray-haired woman with an oxygen tank came shuffling up and there was no scooter to be found. (But then again, maybe I'd just offer her my snickerdoodles for her inconvenience).

7. During my 3rd trip to the bathroom last night, I distinctly remember sitting on the toilet thinking, " I can't WAIT to have this baby so I can get some sleep." And then I had a good chuckle, all by myself in the bathroom- a fine demonstration of what the combination of sleep deprivation and raging pregnancy hormones will do to you by week 37. So sleep is a thing of the past. But if I'm gonna lose it, I'd much rather lose it to an adorable baby boy than to my overworked bladder and sciatic nerve.


Yes, it's true that 21 days is but a drop in the bucket compared to the 252 that are under my belt. So it's onward and upward (even if it's at my new leisurely pace of 3 mph). Getting closer...

40 weeks!!

So this is a picture of a baby at 40 weeks gestation, or more simply, what Junebug and I look like right now (except my boobs may not be *quite* that perky).   A few things come to mind as I scan this picture.  Never mind the fact that until now, I had no idea that I even have something called a "pelvic colon," but apparently there exists such a thing.  And take a look at the poor bladder.   No wonder I'm up 4 times during the night to pee. What's even more disappointing is the "amount" of pee that comes out- I sit down and wait for the deluge, only to have a few droplets echo in the toilet.  So very disappointing but now I see why. 

Perhaps the most disturbing thing to me is the massive size of the head, especially when compared to the ittybitty-ness of the cervix and vaginal canal.  And while we're on the topic of the word "canal," I'd like to say how misleading I find it for doctors and medical personnel to refer to this incredibly narrow passageway as a "canal."  I mean, come on people.  When I hear the word canal, I think of a large body of water capable of allowing barges and ships to pass through unaffected.  THAT is a canal.  What's pictured above is about the diameter of a McDonald's plastic straw.   I understand that psychologically, it's probably not a good idea to envision this part of my body as plastic and unmoving....but for all intents and purposes, it's a TUBE, not a "canal."  A tube that will remarkably allow a 13+ centimeter head to come through.  *And this would be exactly why I'm getting an epidural, thank you.*

So here I sit, 2 days shy of the due date (which I know is nothing more than an educated "guess date") nevertheless, I have the overwhelming feeling that my turkey timer is done and this kid is well cooked.  Right now, this little Bug is doing nothing more than taking up space, head-butting my cervix and bladder, and adding on weight that will inevitably make it harder for me to push out.  I wait for a sign- any sign- that labor is about to start.  Was that a cramp?  Could that be a contraction?  Was that gush of fluid leftover pee or amniotic fluid?  I swear, I never thought I would get excited over feeling period cramps.  I have never run to the bathroom to check my underwear with such enthusiasm for remnants of a mucus plug.  (I'm now beginning to think that I have a phantom one).  And this is the only time in my life I can honestly say I would love to feel warm fluid run down my legs because it would mean my water has broken and could care less if it happens in public where people assume I've peed myself.  (Although maybe I would get off easy and my belly would be a clue that I haven't simply lost all bladder control).   The whole time I'm waiting to feel pain, I'm very much aware that I have absolutely *no* clue what I'm in for.  This is supposedly the worst pain I'll ever experience in my life.  But it's also something my body knows how to do and is equipped to do, so I'm allowing myself to focus on that instead.  As my doctor has said, it's pain with a purpose.  This is not the same scenario as lying in bed for a week with the flu, feeling close to death and almost wishing it upon yourself, only to recover and then say "hey, I had the flu last week."  

I get to hold a baby- our baby- at the end of all of this.  And that's the best reason ever to feel pain. :-)

Fun ways to pass the time at 38 weeks....*tick-tock*

I've obviously slacked off on the blogging lately.  However, since I'm not making much progress according to my doctor (only 25% effaced and not dilating), am no longer working and therefore essentially sitting around twiddling my thumbs in an effort to pass the time, I intend to post as much as I can until this kid decides to make their appearance.  I've also come up with a few other fun things I intend to do in the meantime until "it's time!"

1. Count the dimples of cellulite on my thighs and ass.  This will probably take a good 2 hours, depending on the angle.  I believe that my right thigh and ass cheek have a few more than my left...

2. Scoot myself around our house on my yoga ball.  It's quite comfy actually.  I'm currently trying to figure out how I might be able to roll myself around the neighborhood with Poco when we go for walks.  

3. Rock climbing and/or spelunking.  Because what's more impressive than a big pregnant woman impersonating Spiderman, right? I'm just not sure there are many good spots in Richmond...

4. Figuring out how many different ways to eat a double stuff oreo.  First and foremost, it has to be double stuff- I don't mess with the weird hybrid oreos (mint, cappuccino, peanut butter).  Just give me the plain old fashioned oreo and glass of skim milk.  As for how many ways to eat it, I lost track after the 9th one...guess that means I'll have to start over later this afternoon. *darn*

5. Counting the diapers in the mega box of Pampers I bought. Just to make sure there are, in fact, 216 of them in there.  After that, there are the mega packs of 384 wipes to go through as well.

6. Squeezing and fondling my nipples (and yes, I make sure to practice some self restraint in public).  I've found this to be both fascinating and somewhat painful.  If nothing else, some interesting stuff will come oozing out (*yay- my body works!*).  But supposedly, alternating 15 minutes on each side once an hour releases the hormone oxytocin, which induces uterine contractions.  And I figure, if it doesn't have the desired effect, it will probably at least get my husband interested....which can lead to another fun way to pass the time...

7.  Shaving my legs and "downstairs" region.  Due to the sheer size of my belly, I end up looking like a blind person reading Braille, as I take my razor and feel around to make sure I'm not leaving any patches.  Likewise, I also can't see if I've nicked anything or am bleeding anywhere either, so I guess it's just as well...if things get really slow around here, I'll work on creating a fun design for my OB to find at my next internal.

8. Going to the grocery store and getting revenge....by asking overly curious, stupid or borderline rude shoppers if they would like to strap on a couple sacks of potatoes to wear throughout the duration of their shopping trip and see how they like it. If this doesn't get the message across,  perhaps I'll take a broom stick and mimic baby's kicks by poking them repeatedly in the stomach and back...

9. Writing/editing a series of poems dedicated to my cervix and vajayjay to further encourage their cooperation in project "baby eviction."

10. Going for a pedicure.  I figure if my feet are going to be up in stirrups just any day now, they might as well look cute (since nothing else down there will and all sense of modesty will be lost by then).   Plus, have you seen a 9 1/2 month pregnant woman try to paint her own toenails?  *pathetic*

11.  SLEEP.  Hit the snooze button eleven times before getting out of bed, doze off on the couch after lunch while watching something uninteresting on TV, go to bed at a decent hour and set the alarm for 2 a.m. so that when it goes off, I can remind myself that I don't have a baby to breastfeed *yet.*  Roll over and go back to sleep.  Repeat. :-)

Now off to work on #4 or #11....or perhaps both....

You Know You're 9 Months Pregnant When...

I think it's high time that I write another post. *oops*  Where has the time gone?

I'm officially counting down the days.  That's right.  I'm 11 days from full term, which means I am basically a month from my due date.  *Sweet grandmother's spatula.*  Where has the time gone?  I mean, there were plenty of instances where it certainly felt that time could not go any slower.  First it was the dog-tired days of the first trimester and the waves of incessant nausea when my only countdown was to the golden gates of the second trimester.  Then there was the countdown to the halfway mark of 20 weeks and the "big" ultrasound where most couples will find out if they need to start buying pink or blue.  The next big milestone is viability at 24 weeks, and right around the corner from that is the countdown to the third trimester with it's aches, pains, sleepless nights and flashbacks of fatigue and nausea from the first trimester.  But at that point, you don't care so much.  (Probably because you're too damn tired to care).  You know you're nearing the end of the pregnancy and can manage a few more weeks of discomfort because your eyes are on the prize ahead.  So in honor of officially reaching the 9 month mark (well, in my case, being 3 days short of the 9 month mark), I am dedicating this post to all the joys that go hand in hand with being this pregnant.

And for those of you who are confused about the actual length of pregnancy and think that 9 months means "it's time!!!" I hate to break it to you- really I do, but in fact, we women are lucky enough to have another month tacked on for a grand total of 10 months.  40 weeks = 10 months, but if you are counting lunar months or something weird like that, then it does end up being 9 "lunar" months.  I don't do math and it makes my brain hurt, so moving forward...

You know you are 9 months pregnant when...

1. You drop something on the floor and just stare at it, hoping it will pick up itself because if you DO bend down to get it, one of three things will happen: 

a) You will fart....and this is not the girly fart of days gone by- this is the loud, clear-out-the-room with one whiff type.  If you still have a sense of modesty, you may hesitate to bend down if other people are present.  Otherwise, you've probably reached a point where you could truly give a rat's ass whether anyone hears you or smells you anymore.

b) You will end up like a turtle who's been turned over on it's back- legs and arms flailing about as you try to right yourself and get up again.

c) The baby's head might actually pop out, as you are already feeling some intense pressure from where it has already dropped in your pelvis and before you know it, you will be featured on one of those dramatic baby delivery shows:  "It all started when I bent down to pick up a blueberry..."

2.  You have all but taken your pillow and blanket into the bathroom with you at night, convinced that you can get a better night's sleep sitting propped up on the toilet and at least this way, you do not have to grunt your way in and out of bed an average of 4 times before the sun even comes up.

3.  You're two primary reactions to outside stimuli (TV shows, commercials, strangers with no filters,  husbands who mean well but are unaware of raging hormones) are either to cry or utter the words "bite me."  Both may make you feel better momentarily, but the urge will return shortly- I promise.

4.  You haven't seen your hooha in several weeks (at best) but you are now more aware of its presence than ever before, as it feels as though it's hanging somewhere down between your knees.  And don't even bother picking up a razor to keep things looking tidy since there's no way to really "see" what you're doing down there.  The vajay has taken enough abuse over the last several months without looking as if Edward Scissorhands went to town on it.

5.  You silently pray you don't pee your pants when you feel a sneeze coming on.  You actually throw in a couple of "Hail Mary's" if you happen to be out in public.

6.  You can use your bump as a nice table or "eating shelf" for convenient snacks like crackers, M&M's,  grapes, etc.  If only your tongue was long enough, you could just lap up your treats like a dog and not even have to use your arms.

7.  People no longer make eye contact with you when you're out shopping but continue to stare a hole straight into your navel as if they're expecting the baby to fall out of you at any given moment.  (Refer to # 3)

8.  You're hips feel like they're being held together by a swizzle stick causing you to waddle instead of walk, you can identify the individual ingredients in the food you consumed four hours ago because some of them continue to come back up when you burp, your tail bone feels as if it's been ruthlessly dragged up and down a flight of concrete steps, you have Braxton Hicks contractions that squeeze your belly so tightly that you momentarily lose your breath,  your toes resemble vienna sausages and if you're lucky enough, your hands and feet will swell up to boot....

yet you get excited upon feeling any type of pain or pressure that *might* be the beginning of labor.  You think "YES! I'm feeling pain!" and will proceed to drop whatever it is that you were doing, put on your shoes and walk (read: waddle) a mile and half around your neighborhood or bounce up and down on an exercise ball to see if you can bring about even more pain...because it is, in fact, time to get this show on the road.