7 Weeks and 2 Days to Go. . . Not that I’m Counting
Despite the smile, I am beyond tired of being pregnant.
32 weeks and change
After surviving the summer swimming season with heat waves galore, I figured the end of the summer would be fairly easy to tolerate. Maybe I’m just whiny, old or a combination of the two, but the constant stretching pains in the rib area are getting a bit annoying and my back is really hurting if I spend any length of time standing. I was talking to a friend the other day who said she always felt like her babies hung out “near the emergency exit” and that is very true of me this time around. When you can push on the little butt that is hanging out near your rib cage and you feel a head butt in the bladder, it’s cool in one way but also starts to make you feel like you could be the next Sigourney Weaver. Where’s my spaceship? And no, you can’t touch my belly unless I invite you to touch my unborn baby’s butt. Back off, no seriously.
Don’t get me wrong. This part of pregnancy is neat in so many ways. My stomach is changing shape almost constantly. I feel the little guy get ridiculously strong hiccups at least three times a day. Last night, I told Mr. BBM I was fairly certain he had discovered my hip bones because it truly felt like he was poking at them and pushing at them from the inside out. He is so present in my world already and I’m getting really excited to meet him. I’m just not so excited about having to go through the actual labor part again.
When I was in labor with Sassy, I hit a point where I looked at Mr. BBM and told him, “Now I remember. It’s all coming back to me.” It’s funny how new baby cries wipe away the remembrance of transition during labor and allow you to get pregnant all over again. Lately though, the nerves about going through it again are rising up to attack me. The other night, I had a horrible dream that I had to have a C-section. I know that plenty of people have them and that some people even request them, but having a C-section is my biggest personal nightmare. In my dream, they didn’t have time to put up the drapes so I spent the whole time, strapped to the table, staring beyond my forehead trying not to look. I woke up from the dream crying and sweating. The birth center where I go has a C-section rate of less than 10%, so my stress about this issue is really unnecessary; but you can’t help going there when you’re approaching the end of pregnancy.
Tomorrow, I have another midwife appointment and they will be doing another blood draw to find out if drinking liquid nails has brought my iron levels up to a point where I can truly start packing for and planning for an out-of-hospital birth. The extra loads of little laundry have already started. 51 days to go. . .
The Best Parents Ever
One of the serious negatives about being pregnant and anemic at the same time is that it is sometimes very difficult to find energy to do much of anything. I’m not much of a sitting around type of girl, but lately, that’s about the only thing I’m capable of comfortably doing. Thanks to a healthy infusion of green leafy vegetables, edamame and more red meat than you can find at your local butcher, I started feeling a little better this week; but there are still moments when lifting my arms is just way too intense. Mr. BBM did bring home a nice big bottle of Floradix for me last night. If you’re not familiar, it’s basically a bottle of liquid iron. It says it has lots of fruit juice in it to hide the nastiness, but it tastes like something a vampire would very much enjoy. Imagine having about five teeth knocked out at once to a gush of blood and throw in a chaser of rusty nails. . . it actually tastes worse than that. You should also avoid taking it in the evenings; I found out the hard way last night. The last thing you want to do after taking a shot of that business is get horizontal. After it goes down, you want it to stay down. Trust me.
Due to all this hanging out on the couch time that I’ve been doing lately, the girls have been subjected to a bit more TV than usual. Thanks to our crazy schedule this summer, we haven’t watched very much TV at all; but I have found two shows that are capable of bringing our family together like no other shows have done before: Supernanny and Toddlers and Tiaras.
Supernanny is the show that Sassy lovingly refers to as “that bad kid show,” and boy, there are some bad ones on there. Last week, there was a show that featured a little boy, about Sassy’s age, who would get ticked off and then run out of the house towards the street. He also spent a good deal of time hitting his Mom, calling her swear words, and spitting at people. Sassy and Big I sat mesmerized by this kid. You could have heard a pin drop in our house. Frequently, after an especially horrible outburst by the little demon, Sassy would look at me and say, “I would NEVER do that to you.”
Frequently, the parents on those shows are as messed up and insane as the kids, so I will often get a “You’re the BEST Mommy” during the course of us watching that show too. Last week, Sassy cuddled up right next to me and was wrapping her arms around me the whole time. Bad kids seriously freak her out. It’s amazing how much better behaved and how much more helpful the girls are after watching an episode of Supernanny. I kind of think it’s going to become a staple here in our house when I need them to listen better.
The other show that happened to come on yesterday afternoon is Toddlers and Tiaras. This show had both of my girls staring dumbfounded at the TV. The kids are over the top; the parents are absolute nightmares. One parents sat there directly in front of her daughter, clearly disappointed and livid that her daughter had won the “Natural Beauty” part of the pageant instead of the “Glitz” part of the pageant. Hmm, let’s see. Would I be happier if my daughter won an award for looking the way she’s supposed to look or for looking like a total hussy? It’s sort of a no-brainer. Meanwhile, the Mom sat there in a t-shirt that was too big for her, wearing a ponytail that made her look like she just rolled out of bed, scowling with disgust at her daughter, the judges and the other contestants. Talk about a group of people who need the Supernanny!
Big I was in absolute awe. “Sassy, we have the BEST parents ever. We are SO lucky,” she said to her sister. Sassy answered that with a big hug for me. Then Big I talked about earning trophies this summer for swimming, not for putting on fake eyelashes and teasing her hair, and how good it felt to work hard at something and get a trophy that truly means something. It was a proud parenting moment, followed by two kids who immediately got in their pajamas when I told them it was time, the first time.
Yep, reality TV is capable of giving even young children a healthy appreciation for the awesome parents they have at home. I think they are partially afraid I’ll put them in a glitz pageant or call the Supernanny if they don’t listen to me too. Whatever works.
29 Weeks and One More Obstacle
A couple weeks ago, I felt like I hit a wall. All the things I could normally get done started being a whole lot more difficult to get done. Getting through a couple loads of laundry was just brutal. I figured it was third trimester exhaustion, combined with being completely wiped out from sitting at (or, more likely, running around like a crazy woman at) swim meets in 90 degree heat all the time. I figured it was completely normal.
Yesterday, I went for my midwife appointment and found out that although I passed my glucose tolerance test with flying colors, my CBC results came back with a less than glowing report. In order to have an out of hospital birth, one’s hemocrit level must be at 33%. When I started my pregnancy, I was at 35%. Now? 29%. I thought I had tackled all hurdles to having this baby at the birth center, but I have one more to go. Apparently eating six pickled eggs a day should have been a habit I kept up with past the first trimester. That might have helped to keep my numbers up.
The midwife explained how one can feel when you are anemic and suddenly I realized that the physical exhaustion that feels like it is weighing my arms down lately is not normal third trimester nonsense. It’s probably because of the anemia. Same with how dizzy I got while just sitting around last week and with the fact that I need a nap every two hours. We won’t even talk about how irritable I have been (You did read my last post right?) She told me to start taking additional iron. . . bring on the constipation, and that we’ll retest in a couple weeks. Goody, more blood draws.
Although I keep hearing people call me “adorable,” the only “able” word that comes to mind right now is “miserable.” My belly button is gone. The surrounding area itches like crazy and is all rashy. The minute I stand up, I get head-butted in the bladder and I seriously can’t eat over my plate anymore without feeling like I am crushing this baby. Couple that with a nasty heat wave during our most crazy swimming week of the year and you’ve got one very unhappy mama-to-be-times-three.
Right now I can’t even imagine my skin stretching any more than it already has; but I know I’m in for it. If you happen to be looking for me at the swim meets this weekend, where we’re expecting a heat index of like 105, you might want to direct your attention to the baby pool. That’s where I’ll be, tossing and turning like a beached whale, just trying to cool my body off the only way I know how without having to deck enter myself into a race. It’s the “baby pool” right? There aren’t usually signs restricting the lower end of the age bracket; and since my baby is about negative 11 weeks old, I should be good to go.
Antithebliss
When I was newly pregnant, nauseated 24/7 and basking in a nice concoction of “ohmygodImpregnantagain” and excitement, I had a conversation with a friend about the trimesters of pregnancy. The first one is just miserable if you’re anything like me. I spent the entire first trimester eating almost nothing but pickled eggs, and turning green at the slightest hint of a coffee smell. The second trimester, my friend called, “bliss.” The 4-6 month mark is where you’re still small enough that your belly isn’t a hindrance and the nauseated business is coming to an end. You feel like you’re getting somewhere and the shock of it all has somewhat worn off and has instead been replaced with hopeful anticipation. . .
I reached 28 weeks today and if the 2nd trimester is “bliss,” then the third can only be described as none other than “antithebliss.”
Sure, you’re excited that the countdown is on. Yes, those sassy Braxton-Hicks contractions are a reminder that the end is indeed near. But right about now is when I swear I could rip someone’s eyeballs out or worse. Don’t even try me.
My back has started to ache, pretty much 24/7 (sort of like the nausea of the first trimester, constant and annoying). This time around, my hips are absolutely killing me. It’s like I can actually feel them separating and getting ready for the big event. And if that isn’t bad enough, any phantom pains left over from the knee surgery of last summer, are amplified and making all my joints feel post-surgical. The baby is also waking me up almost every night with either crazy kicks, stomach-altering stretches that make me feel like he is literally pushing himself off of my bed or hiccups that are frequent and strong. And if you think I’m cranky, meet my husband.
Today I got up early and picked Big I up from swim practice, then rushed home for a quick shower before a friend stopped by to make a Miche Bag purchase. As soon as she left, I piled the girls into the car and was off on a 45 minute drive to meet up with my Miche distributor for lunch. On the way home, I realized I’d be driving past the appliance place where we bought our refrigerator. Our air filter has been on red for weeks now; as in “CHANGE ME NOW PEOPLE!” so I marveled at the fact that I had actually remembered something for a change and ran in to pick one up. I told them the model number and my name; they handed me the filter and I was off. I then found a discontinued crib at an awesome price and bought it, added a few items to my “sprinkle” registry, and then drove the new crib, in pieces, home. I then unloaded it from the van, piece by piece and carried it up to the baby’s soon-to-be-room, right now the most disastrous area in the house. Then I threw dinner in the oven, while doing laundry, watering the plants outside, and reminding myself that I really needed to sit down at some point. I got my break for all of 15 minutes while I inhaled my dinner before cleaning it all up. A few minutes later, I was sitting out on the patio, watching the girls play when Mr. BBM arrived home. He appeared at the sliding glass door holding the air filter and then proceeded to berate me for getting “the wrong one.” And why did I buy it anyway when he can just get it online?
Perhaps because the light has been red for like EVER and I thought I was doing us both a favor.If it can be purchased online so easily, then why didn’t he just do it? Chalk it up to a long day at work; but it wasn’t just tonight.
Last night, I got a much-needed back rub, most of the time with one hand while he scrolled through his Android with the other.
Yes, it’s different being pregnant the third time around, in many ways. And yes, I’ve been there, done that before, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get through it. In fact, when you’re going through it, many years older, with a 10-year old and a 5-year old already in the house, it makes it a whole lot harder.
I did get a taste of “bliss” this past Saturday, when my midwife called and said that I had passed my second 1-hour glucose challenge with flying colors. I seem to have avoided gestational diabetes this pregnancy, which means I can have this baby at the birth center, avoid all those bothersome fetal non-stress tests and sticking myself all the time, and along with all of that, stop worrying about it. Tomorrow I’m scheduled for my Rho-Gam shot and that is the very last time anyone should be sticking me for the duration of the pregnancy. There’s something to be happy about for sure.
Don’t get me wrong. Overall I am happy and excited that in about 12 weeks or less, I’m going to meet this little man. It’s just hard to be a happy pregnant girl all the time when you’re spending so much of your life doing crazy plie squats with cranky hips to pick up random little girl flip-flops so as to avoid squishing your baby, when the baby’s room hasn’t even been started and you just don’t know when you’re even going to get to it, and when your husband seems to be nearly as hormonal and unreasonable as you happen to be.
I’m warning you all; steer clear of me unless you’re offering up a complimentary back rub, volunteering to paint the baby’s room, or have an air filter for my refrigerator that actually works. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee I won’t bite.
An Important Life Lesson. . . Achieved
If you told a typical 9-year-old that she would have to wait a year to see hard work pay off, it’s likely she wouldn’t believe you. It’s likely that the end date is too far away for her to see any value in the hard work right now. As an educator, you study a lot about intrinsic motivation versus extrinsic. You read about creating small, measurable goals, and about creating rewards that are given in a timely fashion. They can’t be too far out or else the student may lose focus and motivation. But that isn’t what I saw over the past year.
Big I had a rough summer last year. After swimming her first winter season and then having to move up to the 9 & 10 age group (flip turns, double the length of events, etc.), she spent the summer swimming exhibition and near the bottom of every single invitational results list. Monday’s were the worst. After the weekend’s invitationals, she watched her friends and teammates go home with trophies, medals and ribbons and she always went home empty-handed. It would have been easy for her to get discouraged and quit the sport entirely. But she didn’t.
Thanks to the guidance of some of our friends with several older swimmers in their family, they told us to get her focused on her times. So we did. I started a notebook and kept track of every meet time. If she came in last, we would rejoice that she had knocked two seconds off her time. I didn’t know if it would work, but it did. She got extremely focused on her times and she knocked time off in every single meet. She started a journal with goals she created for herself and she started being able to cross them off when she met them. It was sometimes still hard on Monday mornings, but we just kept reminding her that it was about her own swimming, her own times.
This winter, she continued to improve and she had a great fall/winter season. We did a minimal amount of meets, allowing her to focus more on endurance training and her stroke development. She didn’t say it, but I swear she went to every practice and worked hard so that she could show up at summer swimming and show how much she had improved. It was a big part of her motivation. She turned 10 in the spring and moved to the top of her age group.
On Wednesday night she had her first dual meet. There are a ton of kids on her swim team and we fully expected her to swim exhibition events again. After being on vacation and only attending one practice before the coach put the line-up together, she wasn’t hopeful. Her coach had only seen her swim in one, hour long practice. But when practice was over, she was all smiles. She was swimming two relays and an individual event. . . for points. That was a first.
She was a nervous wreck because she wanted to do so well. . . and she did. Her medley relay, where she swam freestyle, got 1st place by a mile and she extended the lead when she dove in. In her individual 50 butterfly, she came in 3rd and she didn’t miss second (or even first) by that much. In the free relay, she started the team off, swam a great 50, touching either first or just a fingertip behind first. Her relay placed 2nd by just a touch. And she achieved her best times ever.
Last night, we went to her first invitational meet of the season. Her seed times were from last year. This was her very first time swimming in a long-course meet. In the 50 free, she blew her seed time away and took it from last year’s 59 to a 38.02. She earned a third place trophy (her first swimming trophy ever) and also won her heat. In backstroke, she touched the wall second in her heat and blew her seed time away again, earning another 3rd place trophy. In breaststroke, she won her heat and a 4th place medal; but get this, she was disappointed because she knew she hadn’t achieved her best time. “I can do better than that,” she said. Finally, in the 50 fly, she won her heat easily and took another 3rd place trophy. In three of her four strokes, she achieved her best times ever. She started out the winter with “C” times and her goal was to make it to “BB.” Now, with the exception of one event last night, she easily achieved “BB” times and is knocking on the door of several “A” times.
She waited a whole year to take home a trophy, yet her breaststroke time continued to bother her on the ride home last night; and she is hell bent on fixing it at her next meet.
Last year, I rejoiced when she swam a legal race and didn’t get disqualified. I hugged her and squeezed her when she dropped a second off her times and happily pointed out that she hadn’t come in dead last when the results were posted each meet. Sometimes we simply celebrated because she hadn’t been DQ’d. We celebrated the little things and I think it has really paid off. I didn’t hear bragging last night; I saw a big smile after each race, and I heard her congratulate other swimmers on their successes. It is good she started off swimming exhibition; it was beneficial (although sometimes especially painful for me) to see her name at the bottom of those results lists last year. She has an appreciation for her current success and she has definitely learned an important life lesson, that hard work truly does pay off.
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