Category — Belly Pics

….and one day.

This is it. The (supposed) final week of my pregnancy. I have to admit, it’s pretty exciting. The Braxton-Hicks contractions have taken a back seat to real, uncomfortable contractions. Unfortunately, nothing regular yet. But that pain of a real contraction is a feeling I’ll never forget and, for now, I welcome each one as a step toward finally meeting my little girl.

It hit me today just how incredible pregnancy and childbirth is. All of this — the conception, the growth, the nourishing, the contractions, the natural onset of labor — is something my body knows how to do all on its own. When you think about just how and why a woman’s body begins the process of evicting a baby from its uterus, it’s such a beautiful mystery. I hope that doctors never truly discover why labor begins because we women and babies should get to keep that secret all to ourselves.

Okay, enough with the crunchy, feel-good bullshit. Pregnancy stream of consciousness:

I’ve gotta tell you, a yeast infection in the final days of pregnancy is a real bitch.

I’m really tired of spontaneously peeing in my pants. I’ll just be sitting there, minding my own business, when suddenly, there it is — “Oh fer cryin’ out loud! Why? Why does this happen?!?” – the unstoppable tinkle of a few drops of wizz. Kind of wondering if peeing in my pants didn’t cause me to franchise the Panera between my legs.

How did I manage to get a clogged milk duct already? I haven’t even given birth yet.

Somehow, I’ve escaped fat pregnant lady cankles this time. My knuckles, however, are swollen all to hell. Total man hands.

Speaking of which, I found my wedding ring that has been missing for about a year. Yet, I can’t wear it. See above-referenced man hands.

Why do I suddenly feel like eating my own arm all the time? I don’t feel especially hungry, but my body is begging me to stuff my face. This makes no sense to me. Especially frustrating because 1) I don’t have the energy/desire to cook decent meals, and 2) I can’t figure out what it is my body is craving.

Saw Dr. Fabulous this morning for my 39-week appointment. No change in my cervix — still at 1cm, no effacement, baby at -2 station. I set up my 40-week appointment for Monday and have a non-stress test at the hospital on Tuesday. He said my cervix is very soft and in a favorable position for induction this Thursday, if I should change my mind. I’m going to stick it out and wait for natural onset of labor.

On a related note, though: Seriously, my uterus must be AWESOME because no one who gets in there ever wants to come out.

…and 2 days. I mean really, at this point, what does it matter when I update? I’m still pregnant and that’s all there is to it.

(At least, I think I’m still pregnant. I think I’m actually smaller than I was last week. WTH?)

I saw Dr. Fabulous this morning and I’ve finally made some progress. I’m 1-2cm dilated! No effacement and the baby is still high, though. Hell, he probably lied about the dilation just to make me feel better, now that I think about it. He prescribed lots of sex to get things moving along.

“You’re going to be out of commission for six weeks,” he reminded me. “Have all the sex you can, while you can.”

Yeah, because pregnant sex when you’re spontaneously urinating yourself and have a waist circumference of 43.5 inches is totally enjoyable.

In any case, I’m feeling super excited for this baby’s impending arrival. Really, really excited. I can’t wait to see what she looks like, what her cry sounds like, how she grows and develops. I’m looking forward to nursing again.

And honestly, I’m looking forward to The Singleton Experience. I can’t imagine the kind of bonding that can take place with a singleton. Plus, just one crying baby! Just one diaper! Just one child to breastfeed! Baby slings and single strollers and regular shopping carts! My god, the freedom!!

So now I’m just sitting around, waiting for something to happen. This might sound nuts, but I’m curious/looking forward to feeling spontaneous labor.

In my head, it’s going to play out like a scene in a movie: I’ll be up restless in the middle of the night, having contractions. While Chris sleeps soundly, I’ll gather my suitcase and get dressed, then wake him up and say, “Honey, it’s time.” He’ll flail out of bed, put his pants on backwards, and rush me to the hospital. (The children will magically take care of themselves? Not sure how to write that into the script.) However, my contractions will be too intense and, before he can get me up to Labor & Delivery, I’ll start pushing in the car and give birth in the hospital driveway.

(In the movies, they never consider the delivery of the placenta. I figure I’ll drop that sucker in the lobby. Merry Effing Christmas, bitches!)

It will be awesome.

…and 2 days.

I didn’t do my semi-usual Monday weekly update this week because if I had, I would have spewed some pretty awful shit.

This pregnancy is just about over and it’s not ending soon enough. Did you know it’s actually possible to become LESS pregnant as time goes on? At my OB appointment last Wednesday, the doctor (not my usual Dr. Fabulous, but his almost-as-cool partner) informed me that I’m 0 centimeters dilated and 25% effaced. This, after being 1 centimeter dilated and 50% effaced at my visit to L&D a couple of weeks ago. Chris joked that I’ll be getting my period any day now.

So yeah. I’m actually going backwards. Totally hilarious.

Look, I’m not all thorns and venom. I do realize I won’t be pregnant forever. I do realize that I’m very fortunate to have had a healthy and uneventful pregnancy. I know that dilation and effacement can mean next to nothing.

But I’m fucking OVER being pregnant. Until this baby is physically emerging from my vagina, it’s just taking too long.

I vacillate between feeling angry, irritated and tired; to feeling numb and defeated; to feeling perfectly patient with staying pregnant a few more weeks.

Yesterday, for instance, I hated EVERYBODY.

That guy over there? Hate him. That guy? Hate him too. The bitch in the next aisle over? She sucks.

Oh, and that dude. I totally hate that dude.

Today, I’m a different person. This morning, Elise, Althea and I played “hide in the couch cushions.” They were angels when we went to run an errand. Then we spent an hour at the park and they were awesome, even following me back to the car without a fight when it was time to go home. Me and my gals. It was the kind of morning that made me feel okay about it being just us three ladies for a couple more weeks.

Huge sigh.

Tomorrow is my next visit with my regular Dr. Fabulous. If he doesn’t tell me to start pushing on the spot, he’s officially on my shit list and I’m going to give my cervix a stern talking-to.

I had a few restless nights this week where I realized that the end of the pregnancy is, like, HERE. I still have four weeks, which might as well be four years at this point because I’m still fairly certain that I will be pregnant forever and I’ve just come to accept this as fact. But at least four weeks feels somewhat doable, especially considering we have Thanksgiving this week, weekly OB appointments starting on Wednesday (and no sitters! EEK!), some final Christmas shopping to finish and tons of freelance work to tie up in the next couple of weeks.

Last night, I hauled out all of the baby clothes and did a big load of (adorable! tiny! pink!) baby laundry. My hospital bag is mostly set. I bought a few boxes of diapers. I think we’re pretty much set for baby girl to arrive.

I think she has dropped a bit, but it’s different this time than it was with the twins. With them, the drop felt like a bowling ball descended into my pelvis. I could actually tell there was a human skull wedged between my legs. This time, I just feel like she’s a little bit lower — not quite riding so high on my ribs but not engaged into my pelvis like Elise was.

This week, the contractions have definitely picked up. They’re more frequent, intense and noticeable than they have been throughout the pregnancy. I’m curious to see if there’s been any progress since my trip to L&D.

I think I’ve also grown since last week’s belly pic. Everyone has commented that my stomach is sticking further out lately. I don’t know if it’s due to a change in the baby’s position, or if I’ve just managed to sprout another full-sized human fetus in my womb during the last seven days. At this point, it’s all the same to me.

Aside from aching hips at night, pain at the pelvic symphysis, and intermittent but excruciating pain in my pelvis and tailbone depending on where the baby’s head is hitting, I’m feeling mostly okay.

Sorry to disappoint if you’re looking for tales of self-pity this week. Just give me a couple of days. I’ll be bitching again before you know it.

I finally took my first trip to Labor & Delivery this pregnancy. On Saturday afternoon, I started feeling sick to my stomach. This progressed to horrible nausea, stomach pains and indigestion. Saturday night I was in and out of sleep with awful, painful contractions and indigestion. Sunday morning, we had the girls’ birthday party. The painful contractions had subsided but I went to L&D anyway since I was still feeling terrible.

The monitors showed I was having regular but mild contractions. They gave me a shot of terbutaline (UGH. One of my worst memories from the last pregnancy.) An internal exam showed that I am a whopping 1 centimeter dilated, 50% effaced, baby at -2 station (still high), and my cervix, according to the nurse, is “not posterior.”

Now, based on how long I was walking around dilated and effaced with the girls, I know better than to get excited at the news. But dammit, I’m excited at the news! Something is happening and it gives me hope that someday, this pregnancy WILL be over.

On a related note, one more event in the countdown to my due date is over. We had the girls’ birthday party on Sunday and it was a great success. There was bouncing, laughing, bubbles, screaming, crying, pizza, cake and balloons.

Now, we just have the girls’ actual birthday on Wednesday and then Thanksgiving before it’s Baby Time. I plan to pack a hospital bag this week. I think we’re getting somewhere, people!

I basically have absolutely nothing to report.

I’m 34 weeks pregnant. Pretty legit, I guess. I still feel far (far, far) away from the end.

Luckily, other life events are starting to pick up so at least the time isn’t completely standing still. Halloween is over. The girls’ birthday party is this weekend and their actual birthday is just over a week away. Thanksgiving follows shortly after, which we’re hosting at our house this year. Then, it’s either baby then Christmas, or Christmas then baby — or baby on Christmas, I guess.

The slight panic of giving birth is creeping in. I haven’t stressed about the actual birth so far, but now I find myself actively suppressing the fears. What if she’s born early? What if she’s born late? What if the cord is wrapped around her neck? What if she doesn’t flip and stay head down? What if they want to induce me? What if I want to be induced? Will the labor go quickly? Will I tear or need to be cut — something that didn’t happen last time? What if my preferred OB doesn’t catch her? What if I end up with a C-section?

That last worry is what’s weighing most heavily on my mind. Obviously, I don’t want to offend any reader who has had a C-section or anything like that. I just do not want one. I feel like I pushed my luck with delivering twins vaginally and now my number is up, know what I mean?

I’m combating this worry with as much positive imagery and thought as I can muster. I picture my cervix opening like a gigantic, exploding blueberry muffin, birthing forth a wonderfully healthy baby. I picture my vulvagina remaining intact. I picture the baby latching perfectly onto my Nat Geo boobies. I picture my stomach looking something like this afterward.

Hey, you can’t blame a girl for dreaming.

(And one day.)

It’s that time of the pregnancy. Time for the Pregnant Lady Gangsta Lean.

This is when a pregnant woman can no longer comfortably sit upright on the toilet,  so she has to lean her back against the lid and tank.

Aww yeah. It’s that time.

This singleton pregnancy is still pretty uneventful. I miraculously passed my three-hour glucose test, so Wilford Brimley hasn’t cursed me this time around. Compared to the twins pregnancy, this shit’s pretty easy. I mean, I’d still rather not be carrying a watermelon around my mid-section. I wish I could fit into regular underwear. I wish my feet wouldn’t swell with a single-digit rise in temperature. But still. No comparison. A singleton is infinitely easier to carry than multiples.

I think that the reality of there being 11 weeks left has kind of hit me. Eleven weeks feels like forever, but I guess it’s not that long.

We’re pretty much ready for this little girl, though. We don’t really need any new clothes. She’ll be sleeping in the co-sleeper bassinet in our room for the first few months like the girls did. I found out the first time around that newborns don’t need toys or a fancy nursery. I guess we just need diapers and a diaper pail and we’re set.

Right? I’m not missing anything, am I? If I remember correctly, the first couple of months consist of:

• Crying (baby)
• Crying (mom)
• Sleep deprivation
• Nursing
• Carefully examining human feces to determine the state of the child’s health
• Soul-scorching glares at the father for not contributing enough around the house, not being able to lactate, having a penis, stimulating the baby when we’re trying to teach her how to sleep, leaving the house to interact with adults (a.k.a. “go to work,” fucking jerk), smiling, sleeping, and eating

So yeah. I think we’re pretty much ready.

I have all sorts of loose ends to tie up, posts floating around in my head, photos to share. Problem is, all of my shit is in boxes in the garage right now so any sort of order or updating is going to be a while.

This week’s belly shot is a little different, right? We’re in the new house now, so get used to the obnoxious stripes.

I’m 27 weeks pregnant today, nearing the end of my second trimester, and it couldn’t come any sooner. I’m trying to remind myself that this could be my last pregnancy and to enjoy it, but frankly I just want to move things along. Even if there were to be another pregnancy at some VERY VERY DISTANT POINT IN THE FUTURE when we’ve won the Lotto and can hire an energetic but not-too-attractive nanny to help me, I would still want to fast forward to week 39.

Besides, now that we’ve officially closed on the old house (longer post on that later) and we’re setting up in the new place, I’m getting anxious and excited to meet the new baby and see how we make our lives with her.

Physically, I’m really starting to feel pregnant. Silly at this point, I know, but all the commotion has had me distracted. I’m starting to struggle to stand up and move around. I think I let out an audible “Oooofph!” as I turned over in bed last night for the billionth time because my hips are killing me.

There is also now a bottle of Tums on my bedside table.

The baby is spending a lot of time hanging out either on my right side or up high on my stomach and ribs. She’s very active and beats me up regularly, especially at night.

Much to my pleasure and surprise, I’m fitting into maternity clothes that I had long outgrown by this point in the twins pregnancy. I think I’ve gained about 11 pounds so far. Trying to stay away from the scale in general.

Next on the pregnancy calendar:

• I failed my one-hour glucose test (surprise, surprise) and have to return for a three-hour test. Ugh. I really hope to escape gestational diabetes this time because that was a real buzz kill last time.
• After my next OB appointment, I start seeing the doctor every two weeks. Progress, progress.

(And one day.)

My twin skin has pretty much filled out, so I finally feel okay about taking a bare-belly shot.

Until I took this photo, I didn’t think I looked or felt any smaller than I did when I was carrying the girls, but comparing the belly pics of the same week, there’s definitely a difference.

Speaking of skin and bellies, though, I understand something about pregnancy that didn’t quite gel for me before: Just because you got stretch marks with one pregnancy doesn’t mean you’re done. I knew I was getting new stretch marks, but I didn’t know know, you know? I’m thinking the weakened skin must be actually just as, or maybe more, prone to getting more stretch marks the second time around. Oh, I just LOVE being a woman sometimes!

Anyhow, I’m feeling physically good. No aches or pains to speak of. I feel the baby a ton these days. Light kicks have turned into decently strong jabs. I can feel definite limbs — the sharpness of a heel or elbow as my little girl turns over in her watery home. I think I’m starting to feel hiccups too. From her, not me.

Whenever I remember that I’m  pregnant and get twenty seconds to think about it, I actually get a little excited for the baby. Sure, I have natural worries about how she’ll fit in, what she’ll be like, how she’ll sleep and eat and so on. But I’m starting to have some faith that everything will work out fine, or as fine as it can, and I just need to focus on enjoying this pregnancy and the final months I have left with just Elise and Althea.

That said, the pregnancy is dragging. A blessing right now that we’re about to move (more on the house nonsense later), but generally pretty lame. The first time around was full of novelty. This time, I just want to get to the end.

Other general stats: I’m up almost nine pounds now. After my next OB appointment, I’ll have to do the glucose tolerance test, which I plan to pass this time because having gestational diabetes last time sucked. Interestingly, unlike the last pregnancy, I don’t smell weird or have any other manifestations of excessive hormones. I also don’t have much of a linea nigra this time, either. My stomach muscles, which never came back together after the twins, are split about three inches apart now and it’s pretty uncomfortable to sneeze or cough because it feels like my uterus is going to burst through my skin.

Meanwhile, my boobs and skin look pretty amazing so . . . hey. I’ll take it.

I think I’m looking legitimately pregnant and not just chubby around the middle.

This pregnancy is so different. I’m still pretty mobile and strong. I’ve only gained two pounds so far. I can sleep comfortably on my back, I don’t pass out from blood sugar drops and I’m finding myself in decent spirits most days.

Come to think of it, stretches of time go by without me thinking much about the pregnancy.

And then … I feel something. A flutter. A tiny flick of a limb. The roundness of a little body growing inside of me. And I remember, happily and gratefully, that I am carrying our third child — a beautiful little girl who is going to make her own unique place in our growing family.

***

We got a cash offer on our house last week. Therapy is going well. My mom is coming tonight for a two-week visit and I can’t wait to show off my wonderful daughters to their Amama.

Life’s not so bad today. I think I’ll go out and spend some time with my three favorite girls in the world.