Exercise can be hard to come by in these parts. I go into the city on average once per week, and take public transportation, so I get a pretty good walk in. Allen has been encouraging me to take walks around the neighborhood and to do some light yoga at home, which we manage about 2 or 3 times per week. Well, probably more like 2. Or 1. I have plenty of excuses, but the bottom line is: I need to make more time for exercise.
I joined the local YMCA gym last Spring, specifically because they have an indoor track for running and a heated pool. I haven't been in... months. It's ridiculous, I know. I was going pretty regularly for a while but then fizzled out as I started to flounder at work. I finished my work early this week (for once), and decided it was high time for a re-commitment to exercise. It will only help me and Butterbean in the long run. So, after breakfast this morning, I went to the gym.
Why, oh why did I not do this sooner?! I know I'm not the first to say this, but seriously, swimming is the best! Pregnant women everywhere should make this their exercise of choice. Yoga is great for stretching and breathing, but I often feel that my belly is in the way. Swimming alleviates that feeling entirely. I am light and buoyant and I can stretch without feeling like I am squishing Babycakes. I can't wait to go back!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Birthing classes.
Yesterday was our first class. We're taking a Bradley Method birthing class. I probably wouldn't have bothered with it, but the midwives recommended, and I thought it would be useful to Allen to see some videos of births and to get some pointers on how to deal with a laboring wife.
It was what I expected it to be. Discussions about birth options (hospital vs. non-hospital), some relaxation an exercise techniques, discussion about the importance of diet. This is a 12 week course, so we'll have more in-depth discussions as it gets further along, but it was a good start.
...
Right up until the point where she laced into us for being vegan. She asked us the age old "Where do you get your protein?" This question is tiresome. I started to respond with the standards - tofu, legumes - she cut me off and asked what whole food sources. She wasextremely a little bit snotty when she said tofu was not a whole food. Saying tofu is not a whole food is like saying your dinner is processed because you cooked it. Or that cheese is a processed food. Cheese was high on her list of viable whole foods protein sources, by the way.
Since I was put on the spot and felt alot little attacked, I didn't have a good comeback, but seriously? I am tired of this. I am not protein deficient. I did a lot of research on this diet before I started it, and I would not being continuing this diet if I thought it was harmful to my baby in some way. Or if any blood work or ultrasounds showed any kind of dietary concern. Which they haven't.
The "vegetarians don't get enough protein" thing is a myth. A MYTH. We get protein from all sources. Every food has protein in it to varying degrees. People who aren't vegan think that only dairy and meat have protein, but it's just not true. Dairy and meat are almost exclusively protein and fat, but vegetable and grain sources have protein too. They also have carbs and fats and such, so they aren't exclusively protein. But we do eat foods that are high in protein - legumes, nuts, tofu, tempeh, wheat gluten, quinoa, This list goes on. Not to mention that our vegan diet is way healthier than any omnivore who eats out 4+ times a week. And p.s. lady, your double cheeseburger from Five Guys isn't a "whole food" source of protein. (N.B. When I say "food", I'm talking about whole foods you buy at the grocery store, not fast food or any other kind of processed food.)
Needless to say, I am irked. I'm tired of being attacked because I don't buy in to the American diet. And I'm tired of people second-guessing me and trying to scare/shame me with outright lies about nutrition. I'm not an idiot. I can read. I understand what I need to be healthy, and what my body needs to produce a healthy, appropriately size baby. This over-emphasis on protein is ridiculous. Why don't you talk to the couple who came in eating footlong Subway sandwiches with deli meat slices about listeria and the danger to pregnant women? I didn't hear you making a fuss about that.
It's going to be a long 12 weeks. And next week is specifically the nutrition week, so I'm going to have to come in armed.
A very long 12 weeks.
It was what I expected it to be. Discussions about birth options (hospital vs. non-hospital), some relaxation an exercise techniques, discussion about the importance of diet. This is a 12 week course, so we'll have more in-depth discussions as it gets further along, but it was a good start.
...
Right up until the point where she laced into us for being vegan. She asked us the age old "Where do you get your protein?" This question is tiresome. I started to respond with the standards - tofu, legumes - she cut me off and asked what whole food sources. She was
Since I was put on the spot and felt a
The "vegetarians don't get enough protein" thing is a myth. A MYTH. We get protein from all sources. Every food has protein in it to varying degrees. People who aren't vegan think that only dairy and meat have protein, but it's just not true. Dairy and meat are almost exclusively protein and fat, but vegetable and grain sources have protein too. They also have carbs and fats and such, so they aren't exclusively protein. But we do eat foods that are high in protein - legumes, nuts, tofu, tempeh, wheat gluten, quinoa, This list goes on. Not to mention that our vegan diet is way healthier than any omnivore who eats out 4+ times a week. And p.s. lady, your double cheeseburger from Five Guys isn't a "whole food" source of protein. (N.B. When I say "food", I'm talking about whole foods you buy at the grocery store, not fast food or any other kind of processed food.)
Needless to say, I am irked. I'm tired of being attacked because I don't buy in to the American diet. And I'm tired of people second-guessing me and trying to scare/shame me with outright lies about nutrition. I'm not an idiot. I can read. I understand what I need to be healthy, and what my body needs to produce a healthy, appropriately size baby. This over-emphasis on protein is ridiculous. Why don't you talk to the couple who came in eating footlong Subway sandwiches with deli meat slices about listeria and the danger to pregnant women? I didn't hear you making a fuss about that.
It's going to be a long 12 weeks. And next week is specifically the nutrition week, so I'm going to have to come in armed.
A very long 12 weeks.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Formal wear.
We will be attending the wedding of some goods friends about four to six weeks after Butterbean is born. Allen is a groomsman, so of course, little guy will have to match his Papa! So the question is, long sleeve or short? Full "tux" or vest and bow tie? Decisions, decisions.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Drum roll...
We had the anatomy scan yesterday. Turns out it was a stroke of genius on my part to schedule it for my birthday. I was too focused on the amazing to mope about getting older. There was no whining, no crying, no holing up under the covers. I was even happy and cheery all day. I'm pretty proud of myself. And no post-birthday-blues today, either. (So far...) But if they strike, I still have cupcakes in the fridge. ;-)
A note about anatomy scans. They are detailed. Super detailed. I thought they'd just wand over my belly, tell me, "Everything looks normal. It's a ____." Not so. The appointment lasted almost an hour, and the technician measured everything from brain and spinal cord to kidneys and heart. Checked all four ventricles in the heart, made sure the kidneys were functioning properly, checked for club feet, cleft palate, Down's Syndrome, made sure the spinal column had enough fluid and was closed... The list goes on and on. She asked up front if we wanted to know the sex, and prepared us before she told us. "Ready for the sex...?" (It sounds weird to me to say it like that, but I think, grammatically speaking, that 'gender' is an identity, while 'sex' is a biological fact.) I have a healthy amount of amniotic fluid, and our baby is perfect. No abnormalities, all ten fingers and all ten toes, and weighing about 11 ounces. Measuring perfectly for just about 20 weeks gestation.
She also checked the placement of the placenta, and where it's attached. I'm happy to report that it is not covering my cervix, which means I am good to go for a non-hospital birth. If it had attached over the cervix (covering it), I'm pretty sure that requires a c-section, and I wouldn't be able to deliver with the midwives. I think that was probably the most important news of the day. I mean, don't get me wrong, we are totally excited to have a perfect baby, but we were prepared for birth defects. Well, as much as you can be, anyway. I mean, we were planning on adopting a special needs child from China, so we've had to think about birth defects already. But I was not prepared for an abnormal placenta placement, especially given that my OB/GYN just kicked me out of her practice. Luckily (and happily) it's not an issue.
We also discovered that our little Butterbean (who is really cantaloupe-sized now) is a wiggler! That baby was moving all over the place! Kicking little legs, opening and closing hands, flipping over... I can't feel any movement yet, but it's only a matter of time. And I predict that the acrobatics will keep me up for many a night before this pregnancy is over. This kid takes straight after Allen - can't hold still! I have a feeling I'm going to lose the baby weight pretty quickly trying to keep up with those two.
So, now the news everyone has been waiting for:
It's a boy!
A note about anatomy scans. They are detailed. Super detailed. I thought they'd just wand over my belly, tell me, "Everything looks normal. It's a ____." Not so. The appointment lasted almost an hour, and the technician measured everything from brain and spinal cord to kidneys and heart. Checked all four ventricles in the heart, made sure the kidneys were functioning properly, checked for club feet, cleft palate, Down's Syndrome, made sure the spinal column had enough fluid and was closed... The list goes on and on. She asked up front if we wanted to know the sex, and prepared us before she told us. "Ready for the sex...?" (It sounds weird to me to say it like that, but I think, grammatically speaking, that 'gender' is an identity, while 'sex' is a biological fact.) I have a healthy amount of amniotic fluid, and our baby is perfect. No abnormalities, all ten fingers and all ten toes, and weighing about 11 ounces. Measuring perfectly for just about 20 weeks gestation.
She also checked the placement of the placenta, and where it's attached. I'm happy to report that it is not covering my cervix, which means I am good to go for a non-hospital birth. If it had attached over the cervix (covering it), I'm pretty sure that requires a c-section, and I wouldn't be able to deliver with the midwives. I think that was probably the most important news of the day. I mean, don't get me wrong, we are totally excited to have a perfect baby, but we were prepared for birth defects. Well, as much as you can be, anyway. I mean, we were planning on adopting a special needs child from China, so we've had to think about birth defects already. But I was not prepared for an abnormal placenta placement, especially given that my OB/GYN just kicked me out of her practice. Luckily (and happily) it's not an issue.
We also discovered that our little Butterbean (who is really cantaloupe-sized now) is a wiggler! That baby was moving all over the place! Kicking little legs, opening and closing hands, flipping over... I can't feel any movement yet, but it's only a matter of time. And I predict that the acrobatics will keep me up for many a night before this pregnancy is over. This kid takes straight after Allen - can't hold still! I have a feeling I'm going to lose the baby weight pretty quickly trying to keep up with those two.
So, now the news everyone has been waiting for:
It's a boy!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Battleground.
Wow. Just wow.
I went to my OB/GYN today for my "last" prenatal visit. I had some questions about getting vaccinations (flu and whooping cough, to be exact), and I needed a copy of my blood work for the midwives. I also thought it would be courteous to tell my doctor that I really respected her and liked her, and while I was avoiding the hospital for my baby's birth, it was nothing personal - it was Inova's sky-high c-section rate (43.6% at last count).
As is typical in my doctor's office, I waited for over an hour to see her for less than five minutes. I had my iPod to occupy me, so I don't mind waiting. It took me three tries to find a doctor I liked and I am willing to wait for her. I went back to do the blood pressure/pee in a cup/weight thing with the nurse on staff who asked if I was "transferring". (She had gotten me a copy of my blood work.) I happily said yes, I was going to a midwife group for the delivery. She, in a whisper, told me that it was her ambition to become a midwife and she was starting training soon, but that she could never tell anyone in the office because "midwife" was a dirty word. This should have been my first red flag.
When the doctor finally came in, she asked about transferring. I assumed she would be somewhat supportive because I had a discussion with her a few months ago (at one of my first prenatal visits) about being a homebirth baby and having midwives in the family. She was very upbeat about it at the time, so I assumed she'd understand that I would want a natural, normal childbirth, free of unnecessary interventions. What a naive girl I was...
She politely, if coolly, answered my questions about vaccinations. (Yes, get a flu shot. Wait until after the birth to get a whooping cough shot, though Allen can get one now.) She also told me my belly was measuring normal, which is funny since no one actually measured my belly, and told me not to sleep on my back any more. What comes next pissed me off. In a big way.
My doctor told me that since I was transferring care, they were terminating their relationship with me and I could not come to them with any questions or problems. I thought this was a little weird, but plunged ahead. I explained that I was having an ultrasound on Monday and I didn't want to officially transfer until after that because I was going to a midwife under the assumption that I was having a normal, healthy pregnancy with no complications. She asked what doctors the midwife practice had to "back them up" and what hospital they transferred to. When I told her I didn't know about a specific doctor, she put on her most concerned face and told me to be sure I got an answer for that. The implication being that women can't be trusted to have babies without a doctor hovering in the wings. I let that go.
What I can't let go is what happened next. I asked about transferring back for GYN care after I gave birth, since my goal in going to the midwife group was not to have all of my GYN care with them, but only to avoid the hospital. She explained that the practice wouldn't take me back. "It's a breach of trust. If you don't trust us for the birth, then why would you trust us for any of your other health care."
I'm not kidding. That's verbatim.
So here I am, 19 weeks pregnant, and essentially screwed if this pregnancy turns out to be abnormal in any way. So much for caring about women's health. What a huge crock of shit. I was completely at a loss for words during that visit because I couldn't believe my doctor, who I have trusted for four years now with my health and well-being, had just told me that because I didn't like the statistics of the hospital, she was no longer be willing to be my doctor.
Now, I am not speechless. I am still shocked, and appalled and furious. When my mother was pregnant with me, she had to lie to her OB about her birth plans. She went to her prenatal visits on time and on schedule and then "accidentally" had me at home under midwife supervision. Now, 35 years later, I'm realizing that I should have done the same thing. This is ridiculous. The medical establishment is forcing women into the hospital for birth, and taking the rest of our care hostage in order to insure we don't ask too many questions. OB/GYNs are hijacking women's health in their own self-interest and I am sick and tired of it. I see my OB for less than five minutes at each visit, and she has the audacity to lecture me about a breach of trust? Who does she think she is? I appreciate her medical expertise, but the harsh reality is that she has never seen a normal birth. She is a trained surgeon and if the baby doesn't come out when she thinks it should, she will operate with impunity under the guise of "non-reassuring heart tones" regardless of what is best for me or my child.
Well guess what guys? Now you've pissed me off. I am mad as hell and I'm not taking it any more. I have a huge newsflash for them. If something funky comes up on my ultrasound on Monday, I will not be going back to that practice for care. In fact, I will never go back to them for anything, and not only will I not recommend them to friends any more, I will take every opportunity to tell all the women I know in the area just exactly how much their practice actually cares about women and their health. (Here's a little secret: they don't. They don't care about you or your baby or your health. They care about their stats and their bottom line.)
Since I'm not naming names in a public forum, I'll be happy to discuss the matter further in a private email if you are in the area and want more information. But the bottom line for me is: I'm not taking this lying down. I refuse to have my health and the health of my child hijacked over some asinine pissing contest between doctors and midwives. And if this particular doctor thinks she can scare or shame me into a hospital, into a pitocin drip, or into a c-section, she's got another think coming.
Having a baby is not pathological. It is not a medical procedure. In some cases, there are complications, and a trained OB can save you and your baby's life. That has never been in dispute. But the plain fact of the matter is that most births don't require anything more complicated than patience and time, two things of which doctors are in notoriously short supply. Modern obstetric care is a joke. It's a slice and dice operation with little regard or respect for the women it's supposed to be helping. And I, for one, refuse to buy into the bullshit any more.
So, thanks, Doc. You've shown your true colors and really opened my eyes. I'm glad I saw now, instead of as I was being wheeled into the operating theater for an unnecessary c-section. I'm hoping there's a doctor out there who isn't threatened by midwives and who sees them as a natural complement to OB/GYN care. After this experience, I'm not going to settle for anything less.
I went to my OB/GYN today for my "last" prenatal visit. I had some questions about getting vaccinations (flu and whooping cough, to be exact), and I needed a copy of my blood work for the midwives. I also thought it would be courteous to tell my doctor that I really respected her and liked her, and while I was avoiding the hospital for my baby's birth, it was nothing personal - it was Inova's sky-high c-section rate (43.6% at last count).
As is typical in my doctor's office, I waited for over an hour to see her for less than five minutes. I had my iPod to occupy me, so I don't mind waiting. It took me three tries to find a doctor I liked and I am willing to wait for her. I went back to do the blood pressure/pee in a cup/weight thing with the nurse on staff who asked if I was "transferring". (She had gotten me a copy of my blood work.) I happily said yes, I was going to a midwife group for the delivery. She, in a whisper, told me that it was her ambition to become a midwife and she was starting training soon, but that she could never tell anyone in the office because "midwife" was a dirty word. This should have been my first red flag.
When the doctor finally came in, she asked about transferring. I assumed she would be somewhat supportive because I had a discussion with her a few months ago (at one of my first prenatal visits) about being a homebirth baby and having midwives in the family. She was very upbeat about it at the time, so I assumed she'd understand that I would want a natural, normal childbirth, free of unnecessary interventions. What a naive girl I was...
She politely, if coolly, answered my questions about vaccinations. (Yes, get a flu shot. Wait until after the birth to get a whooping cough shot, though Allen can get one now.) She also told me my belly was measuring normal, which is funny since no one actually measured my belly, and told me not to sleep on my back any more. What comes next pissed me off. In a big way.
My doctor told me that since I was transferring care, they were terminating their relationship with me and I could not come to them with any questions or problems. I thought this was a little weird, but plunged ahead. I explained that I was having an ultrasound on Monday and I didn't want to officially transfer until after that because I was going to a midwife under the assumption that I was having a normal, healthy pregnancy with no complications. She asked what doctors the midwife practice had to "back them up" and what hospital they transferred to. When I told her I didn't know about a specific doctor, she put on her most concerned face and told me to be sure I got an answer for that. The implication being that women can't be trusted to have babies without a doctor hovering in the wings. I let that go.
What I can't let go is what happened next. I asked about transferring back for GYN care after I gave birth, since my goal in going to the midwife group was not to have all of my GYN care with them, but only to avoid the hospital. She explained that the practice wouldn't take me back. "It's a breach of trust. If you don't trust us for the birth, then why would you trust us for any of your other health care."
I'm not kidding. That's verbatim.
So here I am, 19 weeks pregnant, and essentially screwed if this pregnancy turns out to be abnormal in any way. So much for caring about women's health. What a huge crock of shit. I was completely at a loss for words during that visit because I couldn't believe my doctor, who I have trusted for four years now with my health and well-being, had just told me that because I didn't like the statistics of the hospital, she was no longer be willing to be my doctor.
Now, I am not speechless. I am still shocked, and appalled and furious. When my mother was pregnant with me, she had to lie to her OB about her birth plans. She went to her prenatal visits on time and on schedule and then "accidentally" had me at home under midwife supervision. Now, 35 years later, I'm realizing that I should have done the same thing. This is ridiculous. The medical establishment is forcing women into the hospital for birth, and taking the rest of our care hostage in order to insure we don't ask too many questions. OB/GYNs are hijacking women's health in their own self-interest and I am sick and tired of it. I see my OB for less than five minutes at each visit, and she has the audacity to lecture me about a breach of trust? Who does she think she is? I appreciate her medical expertise, but the harsh reality is that she has never seen a normal birth. She is a trained surgeon and if the baby doesn't come out when she thinks it should, she will operate with impunity under the guise of "non-reassuring heart tones" regardless of what is best for me or my child.
Well guess what guys? Now you've pissed me off. I am mad as hell and I'm not taking it any more. I have a huge newsflash for them. If something funky comes up on my ultrasound on Monday, I will not be going back to that practice for care. In fact, I will never go back to them for anything, and not only will I not recommend them to friends any more, I will take every opportunity to tell all the women I know in the area just exactly how much their practice actually cares about women and their health. (Here's a little secret: they don't. They don't care about you or your baby or your health. They care about their stats and their bottom line.)
Since I'm not naming names in a public forum, I'll be happy to discuss the matter further in a private email if you are in the area and want more information. But the bottom line for me is: I'm not taking this lying down. I refuse to have my health and the health of my child hijacked over some asinine pissing contest between doctors and midwives. And if this particular doctor thinks she can scare or shame me into a hospital, into a pitocin drip, or into a c-section, she's got another think coming.
Having a baby is not pathological. It is not a medical procedure. In some cases, there are complications, and a trained OB can save you and your baby's life. That has never been in dispute. But the plain fact of the matter is that most births don't require anything more complicated than patience and time, two things of which doctors are in notoriously short supply. Modern obstetric care is a joke. It's a slice and dice operation with little regard or respect for the women it's supposed to be helping. And I, for one, refuse to buy into the bullshit any more.
So, thanks, Doc. You've shown your true colors and really opened my eyes. I'm glad I saw now, instead of as I was being wheeled into the operating theater for an unnecessary c-section. I'm hoping there's a doctor out there who isn't threatened by midwives and who sees them as a natural complement to OB/GYN care. After this experience, I'm not going to settle for anything less.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Malaise.
So, I've been in kind of a funk for the past few days. Partly it's the weather (gray and rainy), partly it's my job (hate it and want it to end), but mostly, it's my birthday.
This has been going on for several years now. About a week before my birthday, I decide that I am not going to mope, I am going to be excited about cake and presents, I am going to plan a small trip somewhere fun, and most importantly, I am not going to mope. I am able to maintain this facade for a day or two and then it all comes crashing down. I whine, I shed a few tears here and there, I want to crawl into bed and cover my head with the covers, I want to hide from my responsibilities until the whole ugly mess is over.
I assumed it would be different this year. This year would be the year of the joyous birthday, since I am finally, miraculously pregnant. I was anticipating celebrating my birthday, and being glad to be at this time and place in my life. Don't get me wrong, I am happy about the time and place... Just not about the birthday. I loathe getting older, especially since it happens without my consent. It seems like yesterday I was 25 and now, all of the sudden, I'm staring my 35th birthday in the face. I do not approve. I also feel vaguely embarrassed about being 35 and pregnant for the first time. I know it's the norm nowadays, but it makes me feel like a story in a gossip column, like the one about the 60 year old woman who got pregnant with donor eggs and a fertility clinic. It doesn't help that I can remember reading in my brother's baby book how strange my Mom felt to be pregnant and 30. Gasp! The horror! She was so old! And that was her second child... (Nothing against women who are in their 30s or beyond who are pregnant. This is just about me whining.)
I will use my birthday as an excuse to gorge myself on treats from our awesome vegan bakery, but it's largely self-destructive. Loading up on sugar and fat and calories in the form of cupcakes is never a good idea, health-wise, though it may be the only thing that saves my sanity this year since I can't go drown my sorrows in a martini. The upside is I don't have to be social to do it. I just have to go to the bakery, pick out my weapons of choice, go home and stuff my face in solitude. (Well, Allen will likely witness the carnage - a mixture of buttercream and tears - but I'll gladly give him an out if he'd rather spend the time at a bar with friends.)
I guess I just feel like I am running out of time. There is still so much I want to accomplish in this life - so much left undone - and I am feeling the passage of time more fiercely with each passing year. Will I ever get to a point where birthdays are the joyous celebration they were when I was a kid? Hell, I'd even settle for the dinner out with friends fetes of my 20s. Though my 20s were somewhat tumultuous, those were some fun gatherings, and as a bonus, I got presents and free meals out of the deal. These days, I only hope no one will call me on my birthday so I don't have to pretend to be cheery and excited. So I can go back to bed and cry and wallow in solitude, without interruptions.
I tried to do something smart this year... I scheduled our anatomy scan ultrasound for the morning of my birthday so that I would have something amazing to focus on all day (boy or girl??) instead of wallowing in self pity. Let's all hope, for Allen's sake, if for no other reason, that it works. Because right now? It ain't lookin' so good...
I am grateful to be where I am - married to a wonderful man, expecting our first child, on the cusp of leaving my hated job behind, secure in home and finances. But I am also playing the birthday/pregnancy card on this one. I have the birthday blues and I am crazy hormonal and I am going to be melodramatic about it. Thanks in advance for your understanding. (Or at least your eye rolling disguised as tolerance. I'll take what I can get.)
This has been going on for several years now. About a week before my birthday, I decide that I am not going to mope, I am going to be excited about cake and presents, I am going to plan a small trip somewhere fun, and most importantly, I am not going to mope. I am able to maintain this facade for a day or two and then it all comes crashing down. I whine, I shed a few tears here and there, I want to crawl into bed and cover my head with the covers, I want to hide from my responsibilities until the whole ugly mess is over.
I assumed it would be different this year. This year would be the year of the joyous birthday, since I am finally, miraculously pregnant. I was anticipating celebrating my birthday, and being glad to be at this time and place in my life. Don't get me wrong, I am happy about the time and place... Just not about the birthday. I loathe getting older, especially since it happens without my consent. It seems like yesterday I was 25 and now, all of the sudden, I'm staring my 35th birthday in the face. I do not approve. I also feel vaguely embarrassed about being 35 and pregnant for the first time. I know it's the norm nowadays, but it makes me feel like a story in a gossip column, like the one about the 60 year old woman who got pregnant with donor eggs and a fertility clinic. It doesn't help that I can remember reading in my brother's baby book how strange my Mom felt to be pregnant and 30. Gasp! The horror! She was so old! And that was her second child... (Nothing against women who are in their 30s or beyond who are pregnant. This is just about me whining.)
I will use my birthday as an excuse to gorge myself on treats from our awesome vegan bakery, but it's largely self-destructive. Loading up on sugar and fat and calories in the form of cupcakes is never a good idea, health-wise, though it may be the only thing that saves my sanity this year since I can't go drown my sorrows in a martini. The upside is I don't have to be social to do it. I just have to go to the bakery, pick out my weapons of choice, go home and stuff my face in solitude. (Well, Allen will likely witness the carnage - a mixture of buttercream and tears - but I'll gladly give him an out if he'd rather spend the time at a bar with friends.)
I guess I just feel like I am running out of time. There is still so much I want to accomplish in this life - so much left undone - and I am feeling the passage of time more fiercely with each passing year. Will I ever get to a point where birthdays are the joyous celebration they were when I was a kid? Hell, I'd even settle for the dinner out with friends fetes of my 20s. Though my 20s were somewhat tumultuous, those were some fun gatherings, and as a bonus, I got presents and free meals out of the deal. These days, I only hope no one will call me on my birthday so I don't have to pretend to be cheery and excited. So I can go back to bed and cry and wallow in solitude, without interruptions.
I tried to do something smart this year... I scheduled our anatomy scan ultrasound for the morning of my birthday so that I would have something amazing to focus on all day (boy or girl??) instead of wallowing in self pity. Let's all hope, for Allen's sake, if for no other reason, that it works. Because right now? It ain't lookin' so good...
I am grateful to be where I am - married to a wonderful man, expecting our first child, on the cusp of leaving my hated job behind, secure in home and finances. But I am also playing the birthday/pregnancy card on this one. I have the birthday blues and I am crazy hormonal and I am going to be melodramatic about it. Thanks in advance for your understanding. (Or at least your eye rolling disguised as tolerance. I'll take what I can get.)
Monday, September 19, 2011
Nightmares.
I've seen lots of warnings in various pregnancy books that pregnant women have weird dreams. I can attest to this, and have shared a few of the weirder ones on this blog. What no one tells you about is the nightmares.
I have had more nightmares in the past four plus months than I have ever had in my life. I've never been much of a nightmare kind of person. I only ever had one recurring (and rare) nightmare as a child, and though I've had various and sundry nightmares as an adult, never with the frequency or vividness I am having now. It's one of the less fun aspects of being pregnant. I'm starting to wonder if it's just me - if my crazy brain is going into hyper-overprotective mode already and it's manifesting as nightmares - or if it's a byproduct of hormones and body changes. Maybe a combination of the two?
I'm already having a harder time sleeping. I have to get up a million times per night to pee, and it's getting harder to get comfortable with a huge body pillow, sheets, comforters and cats. Plus, if I lay on one side too long, my hip falls asleep (not pleasant) but it takes two construction cranes, a Supreme Court ruling and an act of Congress to just roll over. (See: body pillow, sheets, comforter and cats.) And poor Allen. I got up early on a Sunday morning and though he woke up, he drowsed in bed for another hour because it was so nice to have some room to stretch out finally. He noted that when we buy a new bed, we may want to consider a king size...
I have, so far, loved being pregnant. I love the rounding of my belly (minus the creepy belly-button thing), I love that I am both creator and caretaker of a new life, I love hearing the whooshwhooshwhoosh of the heartbeat. I love it when Allen says "Bring me that belly," and puts his hands on my expanding waist with a look of awe and sweetness and love on his face. I miss having a glass of wine at the end of the day - or, let's be honest here, in the middle of the day... But I know that's temporary and I am growing a person! It's amazing!
But I could really do without the nightmares.
I have had more nightmares in the past four plus months than I have ever had in my life. I've never been much of a nightmare kind of person. I only ever had one recurring (and rare) nightmare as a child, and though I've had various and sundry nightmares as an adult, never with the frequency or vividness I am having now. It's one of the less fun aspects of being pregnant. I'm starting to wonder if it's just me - if my crazy brain is going into hyper-overprotective mode already and it's manifesting as nightmares - or if it's a byproduct of hormones and body changes. Maybe a combination of the two?
I'm already having a harder time sleeping. I have to get up a million times per night to pee, and it's getting harder to get comfortable with a huge body pillow, sheets, comforters and cats. Plus, if I lay on one side too long, my hip falls asleep (not pleasant) but it takes two construction cranes, a Supreme Court ruling and an act of Congress to just roll over. (See: body pillow, sheets, comforter and cats.) And poor Allen. I got up early on a Sunday morning and though he woke up, he drowsed in bed for another hour because it was so nice to have some room to stretch out finally. He noted that when we buy a new bed, we may want to consider a king size...
I have, so far, loved being pregnant. I love the rounding of my belly (minus the creepy belly-button thing), I love that I am both creator and caretaker of a new life, I love hearing the whooshwhooshwhoosh of the heartbeat. I love it when Allen says "Bring me that belly," and puts his hands on my expanding waist with a look of awe and sweetness and love on his face. I miss having a glass of wine at the end of the day - or, let's be honest here, in the middle of the day... But I know that's temporary and I am growing a person! It's amazing!
But I could really do without the nightmares.
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