Last Post About Pushing Out Babies, I Swear

Okay. I thought I had covered my labor and delivery pretty well. But there were a few details I left out, and in order to be thorough, I'm posting them now... Plus, I think they're pretty funny.
Things like:

+My feet. My feet didn't swell a day in my entire pregnancy, but as soon as I got the epidural, they puffed out like balloons. It looked like I rolled both my ankles on both sides. In fact, my feet were swollen and itchy, and I asked everyone passing by my bed if they could spare a little scratch. Laura, Ricky's mom, lifted up the bedsheet and said, "Yeesh! Your feet are normally like a little Asian woman's, but, my goodness, Lindsay--you're Fred Flintstone!"

Yep. I was Fred Flintstone. I came to the hospital wearing Uggs, but they wouldn't fit. So my mom ran home to get my flip flops, but not only were they not wide enough, they weren't tall enough. So she found a pair of sensible moccasin slippers at Wal-Mart. She even slipped them on her feet and concluded they were massive and would be perfect.

Nope. We're getting ready to leave and she tries to shove the things on... and they won't fit. Will not be wedged on my toes. "What am I supposed to wear?" I cried. My mom answered, "Bread loaf pans?" Then I laughed for the first time in three days and thought my stitches would pop.

+The things I said during labor. I vaguely remember things that actually came out of my mouth, but Ricky, Laura, and my mom recall:

Midwife: Are you feeling pressure or pain, Lindsay?
Me: Pain!
Midwife: Where's the pain?
Me: (Pause for a second.) In MY ASS!

Nurse: Come on, Lindsay. You can do this. You can do hard things.
Me: How would you know? You've only known me for 20 hours!

Ricky: It's okay, it's okay.
Me: (sitting up to look in his eyes and pointing my finger) Don't tell me it's okay. It's not okay. How would you know if it's okay? Shut up.
(Ricky and my mom locked eyes and kind of chuckled)

+The M&M I begged my mom to eat at about 5am when I was starving. She had a package of them, and I kept begging, "Just one M&M. I won't tell anyone." My mom was reluctant. "You'll only want more." "No," I promised. "Just one."

I ate it. She was right. I wanted more. Moral? Mother knows best. (Remember that always, Finley.)

+When everyone came in to see me and the baby in the labor room, my mom was feeding me the ham sandwich I was finally allowed to eat. If you've seen Godzilla, you can picture what this looked like.

If I think of anything more, I'll post it. It's all so freaking hilarious I'd be nuts to not chronicle it.

Love is a Battlefield

Question to all the mothers in the house: How do you get over it? How do you pull yourself out of the haze and stop replaying those moments? It has been a whirlwind week--unforgettable--and yet I know that details will get fuzzy. So here is an extremely detailed account of how one Finley Mae Turner came into the world and how Ricky and Lindsay were forever changed. I honestly could write an entire book just about the past six days.

It all started the Saturday after November. I woke up with contractions, which was a big deal--I had gone to bed with consistent contractions every night but always woke up without a single twinge. Very frustrating.

My aunt and uncle came in from Gardiner, Montana to be with us for Thanskgiving and possibly a baby. I haven't seen my aunt since March and my uncle since 2005. It was the most fabulous, blissful, cozy Thanksgiving I've ever had--the perfect prequel to Sunday.

Saturday afternoon--still having contractions, so we all decided to go to Fashion Place Mall (the mall of my youth) to walk around, get things moving, and reminisce. I got bitchier and bitchier (Lindsay in pain really only wants to be around my mommy), which everyone thought was a sign that things would happen. Contractions got consistent and painful--and by midnight, they were five minutes apart. So in we went to the hospital, where I was checked, given something for the pain, and told to go home, get some rest, and come back the next day if I was still contracting.

Mleh. Worst night ever. I didn't sleep, the contractions got inconsistent again, and I stayed bitchy. Sunday morning, contractions were still happening, but not quite as furiously.

So Mom and I went for a drive to take my mind off of labor. We ended up in Orem, when I desperately needed food, so we ducked into Mimi's Cafe and ate the smelliest sandwich ever (which would be the only thing in my stomach for the rest of the night). Then, pow! Contractions started again with a vengeance, so to the hospital we went...

And because it was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the nurses must have been bored, because they decided to strip my membranes (OUCH) and admit me. Here I am, walking around trying to pop my water, with Ricky as my walking stick and the waiting room already full of my anxious family members.

We decided I was a ninja in my hospital gown. Great visual for natural childbirth--karate chopping the pain away! Notice the extreme swelling beginning in my face and feet...

At 6:30, I was dilated to a 5 and in pain. My plans all along were to have an intervention-free birth if both the baby and I were handling it. I knew it would mean a lot of pain, but it was important to me to give myself a chance. I was managing fine, though, but the prospect of being only halfway finished and using my breathing techniques completely terrified me. So I sprung for the epidural. So glad I did. I was worried that I would get into labor and desperately want to do it epidural-free, but realize I couldn't do it. I actually found myself realizing I could do it--I felt so empowered--but that I really didn't want to.

Happy epidural. Happy times. They broke my water to get things going at about 7, and it was official--I wasn't leaving this hospital without a baby in my arms.

The visitor policy in the hospital had been revised to protect against swine flu: only 2 visitors in the room (not counting this child's goofy father, who kept mentioning all night how excited he was to show her his favorite zombie movies), and no children under 14. So we were the juggling act in this circus--constantly rotating visitors and pissing off the check-in nurses. Bite me, nurses. I have a lot of loves.

My mother was my faithful companion in the room--snoozing on the couch beside me, fetching me chick flicks, keeping everyone apprised of the situation. Ricky fetched and fed me ice chips and kept our gracious guests company downstairs. And everyone who popped in brought with them their fantastic excited energy and adoration.

I continued dilating to a 7... then stopped. Then the epidural stopped working in a few hot spots, and instead of reflooding my body with the refill button, the anesthesiologist had to come in and redose me, which meant doubly numb legs. Oddly enough, doubly numb legs are just as painful as not... numb legs. Weird.

7 centimeters... there I stayed, for 5 hours. My midwife switched... Kathryn left, and Jennifer came on duty. Jennifer had the most fantastic confidence and reassured me there would be no C-section as long as my spirits stayed up and the baby stayed healthy. She would wait all day, she said.

Then something happened... I was checked and they realized the baby was posterior, with the back of her head facing my spine. So they reached in to give her a turn, and she got mad... and her heart rate disappeared. In rushed the C-section team, the NICU team, all on standby while a half dozen nurses shoved monitors in me, oxygen on my face, and got her heart rate back on schedule. Baby had a long hard night full of contractions, too, and they were smashing her head up against my cervix something terrible.

So we turned off the epidural, with the plan being to wait until I could move my legs again, then get me on all fours and turn the baby. So. Now. No epidural. Lovely. I laid on my side and felt the pain creep back into my body--and then a miracle happened. Baby turned herself. She spun around like a little ballerina and then my cervix opened up to a 9.5. ALMOST TIME!

I took a cat nap while waiting for the dose of epidural to course back through (since I was NOT going to deliver this kiddo without it). Before the epidural came back, though, I woke up with the unbearable urge to push. I was checked. 10 cm. Time to push.

Mom held one leg, Ricky held the other, and Laura, Ricky's mother, paced in the corner. The midwife got her mask on and moved into position. I began pushing. And then I almost lost my mind. The pain of the stretching, the odd sensations of feeling her head tuck under and through my bones and out... I sang Christmas songs in my head to distract me from anything serious.

The pushing only lasted about 40 minutes. She slid right out, and then my world circled to a pinhole and it was just she and I. 10 minutes to 1'oclock, Ricky and I looked at each other and then we were parents.

Little Finley Mae. Daddy cut the cord and then she was free, her own person, separate from Mommy and officially a member of the family. 8 pounds, 11 ounces, 19 inches tall, with straight brown hair, dark blue eyes, rosy pink skin, and a cricket trill instead of a loud angry cry.

This is my favorite photo. This is right when they handed her to me, when we both got a good look at each other and realized we had always been best buds. She did a little scowl, which I realize now is not a scowl after all, but is the face she makes when she's studying someone carefully. Locking eyes with a human that you just birthed is wild.

Who does she look like? Everyone. I have looked down at my chest while nursing her and thought--holy cow, I am breastfeeding myself/Ricky/Hannah/my mom's mom/other random family members. She is the perfect newborn: no complications, great hearing, no jaundice, great nurser, great sleeper, setting up her own schedule already, and beautiful.

I can't imagine life without her. In fact, if it weren't for the after delivery pains I have, I could honestly say life is perfect. Those pains are the subejct of another post, though... For now, just be excited with me that now the earth is a little sweeter, a little more sensitive, a little more stoic--because there's a Finley in it. You may call her Finley, Fin, Finners, Fin McCool, the Finster, or Cricket. And call me in heaven.

AAAAAHHHHH!

This post is for Lorraine, who didn't think I'd post about labor...

I'M HAVING A BABY!

Well, I'm on Percocet, and I'm home sleeping until the contractions get even worse, because the hospital is boring and home is where my comfy bed is...

But I'm in labor. It's real. It's painful. It's... happy, with Percocet.

November 29th was my grandpa's birthday, my mom's dad. He died when I was 14, and I can honestly say he was my most adored out of my grandparents... he was my piano teacher, he spoiled me rotten and loved me to death, and he is someone who I think about every single day. It is so fitting if she is really born on his day--the perfect tribute.

Stay tuned. I'll be a mom posting pictures of my darling daughter.

Really Deep Thoughts

Her bed is ready for her.
Her clothes are washed and put away in her dresser.
Her diapers and wipes are stacked in my closet.
Her first teddy bear is sitting on a pile of blankets in her crib.
Her swing is assembled.
Her baby bag is packed.
Her movements have changed.
Her head slams against my pelvis constantly.
Her family is coming to town for Thanksgiving and to meet her.

We just need her.

Someone warned me that the minute my to-do list would feel finished, she would come. As of tonight, that is me. Pre-birth to-do list=finished. I'm so ready for labor.

Did I Mention I'm Spoiled?

Because, oh, I am. Myself and my baby girl. We're both very spoiled. What can I say? We're fabulous.
I was thrown 3 baby showers. 3. Count them. 1-2-3 baby showers. Spoiled.

My dear friend and surrogate aunt Julie threw me a shower with all the lovely ladies in my ward, and I was overwhelmed. There was about 45 on the invite list, and probably 35 showed up or put in an appearance. Those women wardrobed my baby, gave me the first official pack of diapers, and gave me beautiful words of love and warm, supportive hugs. Julie made sure there was a spread for royalty, and another friend Jeana made a DVD montage of baby pics of Ricky and I, which I want to put on this blog as soon as I can figure it out.

Shower #2 was thrown by Auntie Reilly, my best girlfriend and someone who I think is even more excited than I am to meet this kiddo...

My dearest friends showed up to support me, even some of my good male friends who were probably very confused by the invite to a baby shower. Also, Ricky's aunts came, more family for little F. Mae. Reilly had us all decorate blank white onesies, and now Baby has some very (a-hem) colorful onesies to wear on her nights out.

And baby shower #3 was thrown by my dear neighbor Vanessa, who I have known for as long as I have been in Lehi. Gorgeous food--a sandwich snake, spiderweb 7-layer dip, beautiful Halloween decor, fantastic games with great prizes... My guests were family--my aunts and cousins.

My heart is so full of gratitude to everyone who has contributed. You've not only eased my burdened mind by reassuring me with your support, but you have literally stitched yourself into my daughter's life. Each gift that she received carries a bit of you with it, and I can't wait to tell her who gave her all these things and how much you all love her.

Please come visit her when she's born. Call first, of course, but I want you all to meet her. And she just karate chopped my ovary, so I think that means she wants to meet you, too.

Boom-Badda-Boom

Ah. Pre-pregnancy. Pre-motherhood. Pre... life?
I found myself glancing through pictures of the past and getting teary-eyed, remembering my old worries, my old flaws, my old figure...
I know I joke a lot about the weight I've gained, the funny shape I have now. Let me make something perfectly clear. I'm not fat. I don't look fat. In fact, I look fabulous for someone who is technically two people. I'm a hottie. I am glowing and have successfully dodged the much feared "pregnancy nose" (where your nose gains weight or spreads--not so fun). But there's something about knowing your body, which I admit I took for granted beforehand, is never going to be the same.

Your body is a much bigger part of you than you realize. I suddenly look like a globe of the world and move like a Land Rover. I feel startlingly big. The baby, too, floating in the ocean that is me, is so big that I feel, through my skin, her little tushie, the line of her back, her skull lodged in my pelvis, an ostrich egg... I make my way through the world like a Leviathan in black stretch pants. Sleeping is impossible--I can't lie on my back, because the baby pins me like a little sumo wrestler.

Today Hannah said, "Let's take more shots of you!" And I couldn't take it seriously. Mind you, Hannah's an amazing photographer and still managed to turn out some of the most gorgeous portraits I've seen (if I do say so myself), but I couldn't stand still, couldn't hold my body the way I should, couldn't stop nervously talking or making goofy faces. It's hard when you know what the image is going to look like, when you know it's going to be so different from the image you hold of yourself in your head.

Hannah insisted I wear my red Converse. Pre-pregnancy swollen feet, they were my uniform. I lived in my high-tops. I haven't worn them in months. I missed them. And someday, very soon, I'll wear them again, but they'll be different. They'll be relics, reminders of a fabulous person I once was... But that girl isn't gone, like I keep saying. She is officially the base of the pyramid that I'll become, the roots, the foundation. I'm adding to her with little things--motherhood, brunette hair, a different group of friends and support... But she's still there.

It's just so much easier to laugh and say, "Look at the fatty!" But don't you get it wrong. I AM a sacred vessel.

And I Quote

At the mall, while browsing clearance racks at Forever 21...

Emma: "Lindz, what size are you again?"

Me: "My pregnant size, or my normal size?"

Emma: "Your normal size. I already know what your pregnant size is. Large!"

After buying a cinnamon pretzel at the mall...

Emma: "Lindz? What if some people don't know you're pregnant? What if they just think you're a fatty?"

Me: Speechless.

At home, while watching me eat Halloween candy...

Me: "Emma, hasn't the baby gotten so big lately?" (I rub my belly)

Emma: "I know. She's big." (Pause) "Your neck is bigger, too."

After our server flustered nervously and my mom commented that it was because Hannah and I were so cute...

Emma: "Um, maybe, but I think he saw that Lindsay was pregnant, so he was probably just looking at Hannah."

After I explained to her that the baby's head is ready to come out, and we just have to wait for the "gate" (cervix) to open...

Emma: "That gate is going to have to open SOOOOOO wide, because you are huge!"

She's fascinated and horrified by my 50 pound weight gain. Just you wait, I want to tell her.

Oh, and...

Update: I am not dilated. I am not effaced. My cervix is as clenched as Jack Black's buttcheeks.

However, she has dropped... further down than my friggin' cervix. That's at a station 2. A station 3 is... crowning. She still kicks my ribs, though, and the midwife said that's because I'm short and the baby is probably stretched out. So kind of her, to take over my stomach, my lungs, my diaphragm, and my bladder all at the same time.

Braxton Hicks contractions coming two or three times a day, and they hurt. As does everything. Weight gain so far? Nearly 50 pounds. Of that, only 10 will be baby and placenta... But if you want to come over here and pry the Cheetohs from my hands, you'll have to get past me, and I can sit on you and squish you flat.

Updates to come as they occur!

As Promised...

Wow. Things have been crazy around here, and by around here, I mean in my mind and body. An update on baby and mommy will follow, but first of all, I have to talk about... MORE PREGNANCY information!

This is about... pregnancy hormones. On one hand, I am very grateful to the pregnancy hormones, because they have balanced me out emotionally. My depression has been virtually non-existent. I have felt excitement when it is necessary to feel excitement. I have felt heartache when justified to feel heartache. This is the exact opposite of how March 2008-March 2009 was.

So...

Hormones. Pregnancy hormones. Pregnancy hormones without a partner. I don't think I need to spell it out, but it's been forever since I've:

...cuddled on the couch

...held a hand

...been kissed... on the MOUTH (gasp!)

...felt a hand on my face

...had a full-body hug that lasts for more than 30 seconds (that's probably also because of my giant belly)

I feel like Carrie on Sex and the City, when she feels this way and wants to grab men by the collar and desperately shout, "Can you just lie on top of me for awhile?"

I know you are probably rolling your eyes or laughing, but take someone who is already physically clingy (me), add pregnancy (me again), and then subtract your normally attentive boyfriend (He Who Shall Not Be Named) and blend it together. What do you have? Extremely lonely nights, pathetic days, and a hatred of all romantic movies/books/people. I found myself glaring at Hannah and her boyfriend on Halloween night, when he was dressed in her Cleopatra costume and she giggled and hugged him... Something in my heart twitched and I thought, will I ever get that again?

Yes, the answer is yes. It'll just be awhile.

So. In the meantime, I have made this list of crushes... Some fictional, some very, very real. As you can see, I don't really have a type. These are my consistent, non-stereotypical crushes, some of which I've had since I was too little to know what a crush is. Of course, I love Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp, and all your other typical hotties. This is my atypical list...

Mad Martigan (Val Kilmer from Willow)I've thought he was dreamy in that greasy, manly, warrior way since I was five. I've tried other Val Kilmer movies to see if it is a Val Kilmer crush, but his chin just keeps getting bigger and bigger, so it's definitely Willow-exclusive.
Dr. HouseYeah, yeah, yeah. I've mentioned my Dr. House crush several times. I can't explain it--there's just something about a guy who thinks he's smarter than I am that's attractive.

Brendan Fraser in anything goofy

I'm talking stupidly scripted, box-office failing Disney movies where he dances around half-naked and makes his sad Bambi face... Gets me every time.

Antonio Banderas (especially his eyes)
There's something evilly sensual about them, like if I look into them for too long, he'll hypnotize me and take me away into his private plane and fly me to an exotic Latino island and do... things...
Laurie from Little Women (portrayed brilliantly by Christian Bale, but I mean the actual character)
He's the typical best-friend-who-falls-in-love... Funny, kind, good listener, someone who will lend you books, someone who will lose his temper with you and apologize with opera tickets, someone with a hot body... If you're lucky.

Tim Curry

This is another one of those childhood crushes, but it started with his voice... His voice, oh, his voice. Fern Gully, dig it? Remember how he was the voice of POLLUTION? And how he made it sexy? I was 6 when I first saw that, and every time Emma watches it, I still remember how I felt when I first heard that voice... that voice... Tim Curry dressed as a pirate is just a bonus.

Max GoofWhy can't I have a crush on a cartoon? Why?

Do you have weird crushes that just do something to you? Are you like Miranda from Sex and the City (ooh, two references in one post)? Do you have a crush on a sandwich and don't know why? Tell me.
In the meantime, please don't be shocked if you hear of me running off to Vegas with some weird Parisian guy with a pregnancy fetish... I have sore feet that need to be rubbed and I am way overdue for a romantic evening with candlelight and Jack Black. (Hey, to each his own...)

Really Deep Thoughts

Uncomfortable pregnancy symptom #541: itchy palms. No, not itchy palms. Itchy would denote that this is a regular discomfort that will go away when you scratch it. I'm talking red, swollen, horrible itchy palms that do not go away, no matter how you claw at them or what instruments you use to relieve the pain (nail file, tack strip, teeth).

No matter how realistic you are when pregnant, you never really realize just how much poop is in your imminent future. This is something I recently discovered when I was given a pack of 700 baby wipes... 700... baby... wipes... and was told it would be a one month supply. That's 20 baby wipes a day! That's a lot of crap.

In an attempt to surround my daughter with bright happy things, I painted my room yellow. I thought it would help lift my mood, too, that in the mornings when the sunlight hit the color, I would think of daffodils, custard, fields of gold, Coldplay, warmth... But then my first morning in my new room happened, and when the sunlight hit my walls and bounced into my eyes... I let out a string of profanities and curse words that would make any monk or nun drop dead. So much for being the new, happy, cheery, bouncy mother... Deep down, I'm still me.

I Think I'm Starting to Get It

I think I'm starting to understand that my former self is gone. That she is gone forever and even though I might catch glimpses of her here and there, she will exist only in my memory. She's being replaced by someone new.

I commented to my mother that it's so easy to worry about a baby in your belly. I can't see her, touch her--sometimes she doesn't kick the same way she did the day before, and there's no way for me to know why. "You think that's bad?" she said. "Wait till she's out of you."

Yikes. I think I might know what she means. Even now, both of my parents stay awake until everyone is inside the house. With teenagers/young adults who have night lives, that's difficult--and sometimes it meant my parents would be up until 3am on a weekend night, waiting up for us to return from our midnight movie. Hopefully now, it's more that Hannah and I rearrange our schedules so we can be home by a decent hour. That way our parents can get some shut-eye. We're sort of considerate like that.

How will this be? Every time I read on the news about a child--any age, any race, anywhere in the world--who is hurt, upset, lost, missing out on opportunities--will I really put my own child's face on theirs in my mind? Will every traumatic pregnancy haunt me? Will I be kept up at night with the cycle of "what if" playing through my head like a horrible record? Will I even be able to enjoy one second of my little girl without feeling guilty for bringing her into this scary, scary world?

I know motherhood changes you. I know I keep going on and on about it, and I don't even know the half of it yet. I am just making documentation of this awareness. It's not paranoia. It's motherhood. Life is hard. The world is scary. But life is also sweet, and the world is also the greatest place to be.

I can't wait to meet her, because she'll get to meet me. And so will I. As she learns who she is, I get to re-learn who I am, because I'll be someone new. Birth of a daughter=birth of a mother.

Really Deep Thoughts

This week, as I was scolding a dear loved one in my life for hinting that I might be a little emotionally out of control due to pregnancy hormones, I thought to myself, "Thank goodness I'm almost done being pregnant. These emotions are out of control."

Is that hypocritical, or am I just hypocritical because I'm pregnant?

And how dare you suggest that it's because I'm pregnant?!

You had to know this blog post was coming

So...
Here we have the obligatory baby photos of both myself and Richard. I can't tell you how many times a day I try to imagine what our little girl is going to look like. Will she have my button nose, or his Greek nose? My fair skin, or his olive skin? Will she come out bald and string-beany like I did, or covered in dark hair with plenty of rolls and chub like he did?

There's no way of telling until she's here. I do know that she'll be more beautiful than I can even imagine.

Here we have me, at about 2 months. I think all the time about the stories my mom told me of my birth. First of all, the vital stats.
Name: Lindsay McCall
Weight: 7 pounds 15 ounces
Length: 21 inches
Time born: 10 at night (a dark and stormy night)
Other details? Hmmm...
How about the fact that I was four weeks overdue (not even funny to me at this point) and didn't respond to any inductions?
How about that they scheduled my mom for an emergency C-section and then she went into hard, active labor, which lasted an entire day?
How about my mom getting her first look at her newborn daughter and laughing at my cone head (a sad side effect of the vacuum and forceps that I required)? "I'll love her anyways!" my mom remembers thinking, not realizing that all newborns look kind of freaky.

And here we have Senor Turner. I'll report what I do know.

Name: Richard Alonzo

Weight: 8 pounds 15 ounces

Time born: 10 in the morning

Other details?

Well, this bubba was 2 weeks late, which is still not good enough for me. (I'm thinking a week early would be fantastic.)

He, too, was born during a whirlwind storm.

So...

I am almost 34 weeks, which means in a mere 3 weeks I will be at full-term and she could be here.

Holy shit.

And in the meantime, I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I spend my days staring off into space picturing labor, folding and refolding her little clothes, and praying to all sorts of different gods that this little family unit I am desperately trying to hold together will make it.

What She's Made Of

This baby shares blood with some of the most incredible people I've known... Which means that blood is coursing through me. Reilly, you and I are sharing blood right now.

This baby is also made up of everything I've eaten in the past 8 months... Lots of chocolate, squash, strawberries... Tangerines, string cheese, hamburgers... That Kneaders sandwich I shared with an old friend from high school... The last bite of someone's brownie who gave it up to me because I was drooling for it...

This baby has heard every word I've said for 8 months... Lots of swear words, unfortunately... But kind words, too. Hopefully she's heard me give lots of compliments, describe lots of sunsets, and extend lots of invitations for hugs.

She's heard everything I've heard, too--every song, every TV show, every argument...

I can't wait to see what all these elements create... I have a feeling she'll be more beautiful than I can even imagine.

Confession

I totally passed out during childbirth class tonight. From a standing position. To flat on my back. And yes, it's because I got light-headed and queasy from the subject matter.

And I Quote

3 year-old kid: Is there still a baby in your belly?
Me: Yes, want to feel it?
(3 year-old puts her hands on my belly, then points to a boob.)
3 year-old kid: Is there a little baby in there, too?

12 year-old (to my sister, Hannah): You don't look pregnant.
Hannah: I'm not pregnant.
12 year-old: Yes, you are.
Hannah: No, my sister is. And thanks for the complex.


Me (to a 4 year-old kid): Ash, there's a baby in my belly! Want to feel it?
4 year-old: There's a baby in your belly?
Me: Uh-huh.
4 year-old: Oh, yeah? (clenches her fists for a fight) Are you gonna eat me and my brudder, too?
Me: (speechless)

Emma (to my mom): Uh, Mom? This is kind of embarrassing for me to ask...
Mom: Go ahead.
Emma: When do you think I'll get some boobs?

3 year-old: (still pointing at my boob) That's where the milk comes out for the baby?
Me: That's right.
3 year-old: (thinks for a sec) You should make it chocolate milk. Babies love chocolate milk.

And that is just a sampling of the fun conversations I've witnessed over the past week. Just had to archive them so I can look back and laugh.

Baby Names A-Z

This is how I like to distract myself when I'm upset. Research has shown that stress releases certain hormones and chemicals into the bloodstream, all of which can affect an unborn fetus--not screw up their development, affect, but affect as in they know when mommy's sad.
So this is the game I play.

Autumn, Agatha, Alice
Beatrice, Blythe, Birdie
Clementine, Charlotte, Clover
Daisy, Delaney, Dominique
Eden, Evelyn, Elora
Fable, Finley, Faye
Georgianna, Grey, Guinevere
Harper, Harlow, Helena
Iris, Ivy, Isla
Jo, Jude, June
Kaia, Katarina, Kipling
Luella, Lily, Leta
Matilda, Mirabelle, Maya
Norah
Olive, Opal
Penelope, Pearl, Poppy
Quincy
Ruby, Ramona, Rose
Scarlett, Sable, Sienna
Tallulah
U...?
Violet, Virginia
Willow, Winter
X...?
Y...?
Zahara

Harder than it looks, especially when you can nearly put a face to the name. And there's some letters that just are impossible. No Umas, Xenas, or Yolandas here.
Anyway, that's my little secret game. Perfect for a pregnant lady with a perchance to making lists as a way to relieve stress.

30 Weeks...

Yes, another post about pregnancy. What can I say? It's kind of a big part of my every day life, and I do use this blog as an archival diary.

So... 30 weeks...

Top Ten Worst Things About Pregnancy Thus Far (and yet another subtle warning to all you lovebirds to watch yourselves)

10. NAUSEA. I haven't had the nausea (also called morning sickness, which is a huge misnomer--must have been named by a male OB/GYN) since about 18 weeks... Thank you Allah, because that is miserable business. I survived for a few weeks on only tangerines and string cheese, because it was all I could keep down. And yes, it really is as horrible as they depict it in movies. You have not seen hell until you have thrown up your own stomach bile all over yourself in the bathtub. (True story.) Oh, what, TMI? Then don't ever have a baby!

9. BACKACHE. You probably didn't know all the different ways your back can hurt until you have a baby inside of you. There's sciatica, a shooting pain down your legs, there's aching, there's cramping, there's sitting-down backache, there's standing-up backache, there's pulling-on-your-pants backache, and there's backache just because your back aches.

8. OVERHEATING. Hello, summer pregnancy. And hello, indecent exposure. I have never been a sweater, as in one who sweats, until now. In fact, the other night, I was shivering outside because fall is nigh, and it was freaky. I had forgotten what it's like to be cold.

7. WEIRD APPETITE. Yes, weird cravings, weird aversions. I haven't craved sheet rock or dirt, like some pregnant women, but there was a point this summer where I thought I would gag if I had to be around another hamburger. On the other hand, I ate my weight and then some in frozen custard.

6. CIRCUMFERENCE. Duh, I know. You get pregnant, you get bigger. I don't think you realize how freaky it is, though, to balloon up this quickly in this localized an area. Suddenly your stomach becomes a planet. And it is a glorious feeling when you can finally tell you're pregnant, because then you don't have to rush to tell people why you're looking chunky... they can just see for themselves.

5. SLEEP LOSS. This is due to a) anxiety due to the fact that a human is living inside of me, and b) the fact that six times in the night I have to walk up three flights of stairs to pee. Then when I get back into bed, I have to rearrange the pillows behind my back, in front of my stomach, and under my legs... then I sleep for half an hour, then it's time to pee again.

4. EYE SIGHT WEIRDNESS. Yes, pregnancy has even affected my eyeballs, which means no more contacts. I am a full-time glasses wearer, until I give birth, because then, hopefully, my eyeballs will go back to their normal, non-swollen shape and contacts will fit again. Also, in the five years I have had corrective lenses, I haven't ever had to move up a prescription... until now. My jaw dropped when the doctor told me this.

3. STRETCH MARKS (and other fun skin things). Yes, I have probably 30 little stretch marks--small, red, like claw marks on my hips and thighs. I figure there are worse things--stretch marks fade into little silver lines which can only be noticed up close, and really, stretch marks on toned thighs aren't so bad. But while they're erupting like dandelions all over my body, it's depressing. Oh, and skin tags. Never heard of them? Then don't get pregnant.

2. JUDGMENT. I've had my fair share of this, and it sucks, especially when mixed with the moodiness of pregnancy hormones, because then I don't know when to bite my tongue. I've learned to tune a lot of it out, and have grown even closer to those who are supportive of my decisions. But still.... I can't wait to see some of these judgmental people fall on their faces. I shouldn't say that, because it isn't very Christlike, but that's truly how I feel, and honesty is important, right?

1. THE IMPENDING DOOM OF LABOR. Need I say more? Sword of Damocles, hovering over my head.

Top Best Things About Being Pregnant (is it horrible that I couldn't think of ten?)

SHINY HAIR AND NAILS. Prenatal vitamins bring this about. My hair's never been thicker, shinier, fuller, or quicker-growing.

HORMONAL BALANCE. Remember that schlump I went through last winter, where I was all depressed and borderline psychotic? Well, it's either just up, happy time for me, or these hormones have balanced me out quite a bit. That does mean the impending cloud of postpartum hangs above my head, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

BIG RIPE BELLY. Okay, I know, I said that this was a bad thing, but it's a good thing, too. I'm like a crazy fertility goddess with a crescent moon belly. When you know there's a baby in here, and not beer, it's sweet.

INTENSE DREAMS. Holy Dr. House dreams. That's all I have to say.

HANDS ON MY BELLY. Probably a lot of pregnant women hate when strangers (or loved ones) put their hands on their bellies to feel the baby, but I look at it as positive energy being passed in utero through me. So, if you see me, don't be shy. You can't be worse than the Jamaican lady at D.I. who put her hands on my belly and shouted some crazy midwife blessing (or, hopefully not, a curse).

FEELING HER MOVE. This is the ultimate gift, and I'm glad women's bodies can feel their babies squirming in there, because otherwise, we'd have no hope or faith that we'd ever bond. But I know exactly what she's donig in there, when she sleeps, when she's most active, and she even wakes me up. She gets hiccups, she kicks and punches (my little million dollar baby), and sometimes (this is freaky) I can feel her upset and crying. That's when I do a weird bouncy dance to rock her.

All in all, this pregnancy thing? Hardest thing ever. And like I keep mentioning, I've realized only recently that this is the easy part in the child-rearing. But I had to chronicle this before the baby comes, because then I'll be lucky if I remember what a blog even is.

Really Deep Thoughts

The three mainschools of childbirth pain management in America are Drs. Lamaze, Bradley, and Grantly Dick-Read.

Grantly Dick-Read.

Grantly. Dick. Read.

Really Deep Thoughts

Before pregnancy, a woman's breasts are like Faberge eggs--polished, firm, works of art. After pregnancy, they become two leaky hot water bottles wrapped in dirty towels.
Goodbye, my perfect breasts. Maybe I'll see you again someday, maybe not.
I guess the benefit of breast-feeding is the cat can't get to the milk.