Belly Pics!

Here they are from Week 16 to now (39). I know I took one at 20 weeks, but I can't find it anywhere. I'm posting them all now in an act of extreme hopefulness that there will not be a Week 40 shot. Enjoy!

Confinement Vs. Rice Fields

Over the course of this pregnancy, particularly in these last couple of months, I have struggled with how to best take care of myself. I've wondered whether I should take it easy or ignore the assumed to be harmless discomfort and maintain my usual level of activity. I often reflect on two conflicting images from literature. The first is confinement, which I have read about countless times in European historical fiction. This was the idea that toward the end of pregnancy it was best for the mother and the baby to confine the mother to bed in a dark room. It sounds horrible at first, but there have definitely been days where this appealed to me. The other image is that of the mother in The Good Earth, who squatted in the rice field, gave birth, wrapped the baby up and then continued working in the rice field. Clearly this woman was able to work right up to the end, and then some. I often wonder if this is the way to do it- just push through the pain and keep on keeping on. Obviously, neither of these approaches is ideal for me (or most pregnant women). The best approach lies somewhere in the middle- doing as much as possible without being unreasonable. Knowing personal limits and comfort levels. But that can be a hard line to draw. And timing is everything. There have been days that I have pushed myself too hard and had to try to recover by putting myself in "confinement" for the next day or two. Overdoing it caused me to have frequent, painful contractions, and that was scary at that point in the pregnancy. Now that I am at the end of the road and going into labor would be a good thing, I kind of want to go out into the rice field and work work work until it's time to deliver. I do not wish to squat in a rice field, though. I'll be at the hospital for that part :)

End of the Ticker!

Am I really up to the last baby on that ticker up there? Why, I remember when it was just a little embryo with legs! It is satisfying to see that I am on that last baby. It justifies how how much pain I am in sometimes. And how nervous I am. And how almost nothing fits anymore- even my maternity clothes. I'm pretty stressed out. I would be okay if it was the normal end of pregnancy stress stuff. Or the normal holiday preparation stuff. Or the normal construction headache stuff. But everything combined is really getting to me. I'm just trying to control the things that I can and cope with the things that I can't. This means enjoying the positive parts of what's left of the pregnancy, doing as much holiday/post baby cooking that I can (or that my freezer can accommodate), and accepting the fact that my constant supervision and involvement can only go so far in the construction time line. We're almost there...

Case in Cup

Allow me to share with you a story from this morning’s doctor’s appointment that will illustrate the legitimacy of two common pregnancy complaints. The first is “pregnancy brain.” Not just an excuse for being flaky, there are scientific reasons for this phenomenon. The second complaint is that of frequent urination, due to a person constantly head-butting the pregnant woman’s bladder. I often complain that as soon as I stand up from using the bathroom I have to go again. This morning, I proved this to be no exaggeration. Here is what happened:

I went in for a regular check-up. The nurse and I chatted away while she took my weight and blood pressure. She was pregnant when I was pregnant with Lilah, and we ended up delivering our babies on the same day, just rooms apart in the hospital. So we have a nice little nurse-patient bond. At every appointment after she takes my weight and blood pressure (or sometimes before, depending on how long I’ve been waiting) I go to the bathroom to leave my urine sample. Today was no different. However, as soon as I finished using the bathroom I realized that I had totally forgotten about the sample. I was washing my hands and looking at the plastic cups and black marker and realized what I had done. I went over the options in my head: tell the doctor what happened and ask to try again after the appointment or just walk out and don’t worry about the sample this week, both of which would make me look like an idiot. Then it occurred to me that if I sat back down, I just might be able to try again. Lo, and behold, a mere few seconds after zipping up (er, pulling up my big old elastic-waisted maternity jeans) I had no trouble at all filling up that plastic cup.

Moral of the story: pregnant women’s brains and bladders truly do not function normally. But once in a while that may prove to be a good thing.

Weary Traveler

Synopsis of the past three weeks:

Packed for Charleston
Packed for home
Packed for Cleveland
Packed for home
Packed for Atlanta
Packed for home

The next suitcase I'm packing is my hospital bag.

Always Read (and HEED!) the Instructions

I literally just opened a can of whoop-ass on my son. In an act of third trimester indulgence, I set out to make these scrumptious biscuits.



I did not think much of this warning.



Which resulted in this welt on my belly, right where my baby likes to push his tushy:
(It looks and feels worse in person than it does in this picture.)


These biscuits better be worth it.

Third Trimester, Third Time Around

I am officially in the third trimester now! I am indeed feeling heavy with child. And heavy with things to do...

By this point in my pregnancy with my oldest, she had a name, a decorated nursery, and a closet full of little dresses. Her baby book was up-to-date, as was a carefully organized baby registry.

By this point in my pregnancy with my second, she had a first name, with several contenders as middle names. She had a decorated nursery, as we concentrated on finishing her sister's new and exciting big girl room.

This baby has an empty crib in what is still very much the guest room. He has some form of a name of the person he will be named for, but the exact form or if it is to be used for his first or middle name is still up in the air. That's about it. I sort of had this flash of remembrance last week that it takes 12 weeks for furniture to come in once you order it. I went to one store and picked out what I wanted. I still haven't actually ordered it. At the next store I picked up one outfit on clearance and a baby book, though I have no idea when I will start filling it in.

There is much to be done for the little guy. Time to get my nesting on.