I meant to write a brief note about last week's doctor appointment. Things started out same as always--get a weight (ugh!), pee in a cup, get blood pressure checked, have doctor look at grossly swollen feet. Then she had me on the bed, tummy covered with gel, ready to hear the heartbeat. But she couldn't get one. She rubbed the little microphone-thing around a while before declaring that the batteries were dead. So she got new ones and tried again. But again, nothing. And, granted, this lasted a whole two minutes, but it quickly became unnerving for me. I was trying to remember if I had felt BC move around that morning (I hadn't). I stayed calm, but I began mentally preparing to be rushed over to the hospital.
Again, this whole process lasted only about two minutes, but I realized just how frightened I could get about this tiny person I haven't even met yet. But eventually there was a heartbeat (150s) and all was fine in the world. When I called Papa Clay later and retold the story, he let me know how glad he was that he hadn't been there, that he would have freaked out. And I nodded and said, "I know baby." Because I did know. That man would not have handled it well.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Waiting Game
This waiting thing sucks. I'm anxious pretty much all the time. Papa Clay and I spent the weekend staring blankly at each other and wandering from room to room looking for something, anything to do. It's difficult without house projects or baby projects or homework. We're bored. And when we get bored, we tend to fight. But this weekend we were even too bored to fight. Instead, I did some last minute baby laundry--sleepers and socks they were practically giving away at the end of a neighbor's garage sale. I also picked up a glider and ottoman with cushions that need to be reupholstered and wood to be painted darker. But that's unlikely to happen before baby gets here.
We went through the registry and the baby book to determine what else we should have (bottles, bottle brush, Pedialyte). And we sat on our deck and pretended we were enjoying the weather and the quiet. But mostly we stared at each other, at the belly, guessing at when it would all be over, when we'd finally meet Baby Clay. (And with my doctor out of town all weekend, I spent a lot of time willing her to stay in, at least until Monday.)
I also had a chance to speak to new mom Rachel, who had her baby last Wednesday. Thankfully, she didn't have any frightening stories to share, just one word of advice: get the epidural as soon as possible. I let her know that it wouldn't be a problem, that I am all about the drugs, that even my doctor declared that they were invented for a reason and that I should take what I can get. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love my doctor? I love that she tells me every visit that her son's birthday is the day before my due date. And that she gained 50 pounds with her pregnancy and so has never given me any grief about my own weight gain [of which I'm not sharing!].
We went through the registry and the baby book to determine what else we should have (bottles, bottle brush, Pedialyte). And we sat on our deck and pretended we were enjoying the weather and the quiet. But mostly we stared at each other, at the belly, guessing at when it would all be over, when we'd finally meet Baby Clay. (And with my doctor out of town all weekend, I spent a lot of time willing her to stay in, at least until Monday.)
I also had a chance to speak to new mom Rachel, who had her baby last Wednesday. Thankfully, she didn't have any frightening stories to share, just one word of advice: get the epidural as soon as possible. I let her know that it wouldn't be a problem, that I am all about the drugs, that even my doctor declared that they were invented for a reason and that I should take what I can get. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love my doctor? I love that she tells me every visit that her son's birthday is the day before my due date. And that she gained 50 pounds with her pregnancy and so has never given me any grief about my own weight gain [of which I'm not sharing!].
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Boo!
You know what's just cruel for a very pregnant lady? Itchy mosquito bites on your feet. Especially considering I haven't been able to reach my feet for a month.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Last Night of Baby Class
Last night was the last night of baby birthing class (we still have breastfeeding, newborn care, and carseat safety class to go). I think they may have saved some of the worst info for last (though I didn't think it would get worse than watching a 20-year-old video of on overweight, sweaty woman giving birth--with a giant mirror at the end of the bed so she could see what was happening. Ugh.)
Anyway, last night was the night the nurse pulled out the bag of "after-birth goodies." That's when I found out how long I'd bleed afterward. That's when I saw the giant diaper pads we get in the hospital. That's when they pulled out the squirt bottle and said this is how we'll want to wipe ourselves for the next few weeks. Warm water, not cold. And then there were Preparation H wipes. Oh, and they mentioned more than a few times the stitches. I tried to tell Jess all of this, but she did not seem interested in hearing it. "Oh, but I'll be the best person to talk to when you have a baby," I told her. "I'll tell you everything that people don't tell you." She didn't seem interested in that either.
But then I told her the interesting thing about pregnancy. I told her that I was super scared by all of this at the beginning, that the idea of actually pushing something out of there terrified me. But the longer you're pregnant, the less you care. You've felt this baby rolling and kicking and moving around inside you for so long, you're ready for her to come out so you can actually see her and hold her. You don't care anymore how that happens. You accept your fate and know that if it were really that bad, people would not have siblings. I was number 3, after all. If it were that bad, I wouldn't even exist. (Yes, I gave my mom extra props last Sunday on Mother's Day. I think I get it now.)
Anyway, last night was the night the nurse pulled out the bag of "after-birth goodies." That's when I found out how long I'd bleed afterward. That's when I saw the giant diaper pads we get in the hospital. That's when they pulled out the squirt bottle and said this is how we'll want to wipe ourselves for the next few weeks. Warm water, not cold. And then there were Preparation H wipes. Oh, and they mentioned more than a few times the stitches. I tried to tell Jess all of this, but she did not seem interested in hearing it. "Oh, but I'll be the best person to talk to when you have a baby," I told her. "I'll tell you everything that people don't tell you." She didn't seem interested in that either.
But then I told her the interesting thing about pregnancy. I told her that I was super scared by all of this at the beginning, that the idea of actually pushing something out of there terrified me. But the longer you're pregnant, the less you care. You've felt this baby rolling and kicking and moving around inside you for so long, you're ready for her to come out so you can actually see her and hold her. You don't care anymore how that happens. You accept your fate and know that if it were really that bad, people would not have siblings. I was number 3, after all. If it were that bad, I wouldn't even exist. (Yes, I gave my mom extra props last Sunday on Mother's Day. I think I get it now.)
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Busy Few Weeks
A lot has been happening in the last few weeks. I went from being afraid my child would spend her first few months naked to acquiring quite an abundance of clothes. Any maybe more than enough pink, frilly things to Daddy Clay's displeasure. But what can you do when your sister-in-law offers to unload a garbage bag of free stuff on you (only our favorite Ellen outfits, she had said). And then there was the bag of 0-3 month stuff from Matt's coworker for $20. Because I didn't have a single onesie or sleeper yet and was starting to get worried. Last night I rounded up all the baby clothes I had accumulated and washed them all. And while I'll do this a thousand times in the future, that first time is just...weird. Once washed and dried, I did my best to match bottoms with tops and sort into piles: 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, 12 mos., 18 mos. I'll be able to tuck away a lot of those favorite Ellen outfits because it will be a year at least before I use them, but the tiniest onesies and sleepers and pink rompers will need to go in the dresser (if it ever comes in--I ordered it 6 weeks ago!).
I'm also the proud owner of a Diaper Genie, a baby bathtub ( I swore I would not spend $30 on a new one!), and a boppy pillow, thanks to people at work. For those keeping track, that's about $100 in savings right there. And Jennie just offered me her extra car seat base, so there's another $35. So I finally feel like I'm gathering the stuff I need to have a baby. There are others I need to work on--a pump, baby monitor, crib sheets, bibs, wipes--and I have lists everywhere of things to do, people to call, stuff to buy. I need to pack a bag for the hospital, but I also need to buy a nursing nightgown and robe for the trip. Somehow I'm not sure the Mountain Dew shirt and jogging shorts I stole from Matt and have been wearing to bed for 3 months will work.
And we started baby class last week. I didn't think there were too many mysteries left for me regarding this whole baby-making process. After all, I did read the What to Expect When You're Expecting book. But there's something to be said about the lifesize models of what your cervix looks like just before birth and talk of it stretching like a rubber band. I was also told that you're not supposed to go to the hospital until contractions are only 5 minutes apart. Essentially, the head should be about halfway out before you show up. They suggested walking the mall instead. Yeah, because I totally see me and Daddy Clay comparing Yankee Candle scents while I try to pretend I'm not about to pop out a kid.
This week's class is focusing on birthing positions. Despite what television and movies have taught us, lying on your back is not the optimum position for this. There's a whole chart of better positions--squatting, hands and knees, in a tub, etc. Since DC will be at a conference, I guess Miss Joseph will have to help me decide on that one.
I'm also the proud owner of a Diaper Genie, a baby bathtub ( I swore I would not spend $30 on a new one!), and a boppy pillow, thanks to people at work. For those keeping track, that's about $100 in savings right there. And Jennie just offered me her extra car seat base, so there's another $35. So I finally feel like I'm gathering the stuff I need to have a baby. There are others I need to work on--a pump, baby monitor, crib sheets, bibs, wipes--and I have lists everywhere of things to do, people to call, stuff to buy. I need to pack a bag for the hospital, but I also need to buy a nursing nightgown and robe for the trip. Somehow I'm not sure the Mountain Dew shirt and jogging shorts I stole from Matt and have been wearing to bed for 3 months will work.
And we started baby class last week. I didn't think there were too many mysteries left for me regarding this whole baby-making process. After all, I did read the What to Expect When You're Expecting book. But there's something to be said about the lifesize models of what your cervix looks like just before birth and talk of it stretching like a rubber band. I was also told that you're not supposed to go to the hospital until contractions are only 5 minutes apart. Essentially, the head should be about halfway out before you show up. They suggested walking the mall instead. Yeah, because I totally see me and Daddy Clay comparing Yankee Candle scents while I try to pretend I'm not about to pop out a kid.
This week's class is focusing on birthing positions. Despite what television and movies have taught us, lying on your back is not the optimum position for this. There's a whole chart of better positions--squatting, hands and knees, in a tub, etc. Since DC will be at a conference, I guess Miss Joseph will have to help me decide on that one.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Happy Easter Baby Clay
I want you to know that this morning I slept until almost 9, and if everything I've ever heard about babies is true, this sleeping in thing will be over in approximately two months. But what say we make a deal? What if you try really hard to be that one baby who sleeps through the night after about a month? What if you learn to differentiate weekends from weekdays and sleep even longer on Saturday and Sunday mornings? In return, I could promise to buy you a pony someday. Just kick me a couple times in the abdomen if you're cool with this arrangement...okay, and judging from the way my stomach just moved on its own, it would appear like you're on board. Or maybe you're simply excited by the fact that I just ate a big bowl of Raisin Bran. I guess we'll know in a couple months.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Interesting fact about being pregnant: once you hit a certain point, there's no hiding the fact that you're baking a baby in your belly. No sweatshirt is large enough to cover the ever-rounding stomach, the waddling, the wheezing. So that means when you go into a gas station to grab a Snapple, the cashier is going to look at your belly, smile, and ask (in rapid succession) When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or girl? Do you have names picked out? As if 1)it were any of her business any of it and 2)the answers actually mattered to her.
Granted, there are women out there who love the attention that comes with incubating life. I have a friend who's that way. She takes every opportunity to rub her belly in public. She'll shake her head no, say she wasn't out on Saturday night because (and here's where she points to her belly) she's expecting. She likes to giggle and talk about names, cravings, weight gain, night sweats--all things baby. But I'm not really that way. I like to pretend that I have other interesting things to talk about--my graduate classes, stories I'm working on, that trip to Europe I took last summer, the state of our nation, who should be kicked off American Idol--but no one wants to hear about that. They want to know if I've started mixing pickles with peanut butter or ice cream and summer sausage. They want to know if I can feel the baby kick, if I've picked out a crib, if I'm enjoying sleeping in while I can. Because that's going to stop as soon as you have a kid, they all say.
Hmm. I had a point when I started this. But I've forgotten, as I've forgotten so many things lately. I can say this--on CNN today there was a post about a study done on pregnant women and their memories. They've proven a link between being pregnant and being forgetful. The study also showed that three months after giving birth, memory usually improves (thank goodness!).
Granted, there are women out there who love the attention that comes with incubating life. I have a friend who's that way. She takes every opportunity to rub her belly in public. She'll shake her head no, say she wasn't out on Saturday night because (and here's where she points to her belly) she's expecting. She likes to giggle and talk about names, cravings, weight gain, night sweats--all things baby. But I'm not really that way. I like to pretend that I have other interesting things to talk about--my graduate classes, stories I'm working on, that trip to Europe I took last summer, the state of our nation, who should be kicked off American Idol--but no one wants to hear about that. They want to know if I've started mixing pickles with peanut butter or ice cream and summer sausage. They want to know if I can feel the baby kick, if I've picked out a crib, if I'm enjoying sleeping in while I can. Because that's going to stop as soon as you have a kid, they all say.
Hmm. I had a point when I started this. But I've forgotten, as I've forgotten so many things lately. I can say this--on CNN today there was a post about a study done on pregnant women and their memories. They've proven a link between being pregnant and being forgetful. The study also showed that three months after giving birth, memory usually improves (thank goodness!).
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