ETA: He made me remove the pic

Now that DH has started reading my blog, he claims to check it daily. So we'll see how long this picture actually stays up. The more I blog, the more I seem to relax my personal rules on anonymity and specificity, and I continue to have an inconsistent application. The most interesting aspects of our lives are often personal, but that makes knowing how much you want to share with everyone difficult. So far the rule is that I only write about myself and my thoughts, and even at that leave out any thoughts that involve someone else specifically. But pictures? Maybe I don't have the same boundaries, especially when they're so damn cute.

It's all about me

Today's the day. The baby shower day. I've never, in my adult life, had a party that was all about me. I'm not very fond of being the center of attention so I actually look at today with a bit of fear. All my years in theater taught me how to pretend I enjoyed the spotlight, but I never succeeded at the real thing. I do, however, like presents more than is healthy. Which I know is not the proper attitude, but there's something so enjoyable about wrapping paper and surprises. Even if they're surprises you registered for.

I managed to not think about this baby in any protracted way for 2 whole days. And when I realized that she had barely crossed my mind I was overcome with guilt. I like to think it was because I wasn't in pain and was actually feeling good so that I could carry on with my life. But it had the same feeling of guilt (though I'm sure not the degree) of some mother who accidentally leaves her child sitting on top of the car when she starts to drive away (I've heard this happened to my uncle. He was the one on top of the car.) Will I be a bad mother? The type that accidentally leaves her child someplace? I am terrified to be that responsible for someone else.

Also, I've probably had 4 "It's a boy!!" dreams this week. It's really starting to make me skeptical of the gender diagnosis we were given. I'm not upset in any of my dreams, more of a "That's cool!" feeling. But I think A and I should decide on a boy's name just in case. Hospitals are no place for the type of knock-down-drag-out-brawls that accompany our life-decision conversations.

Dear Husband

I am sitting next to my big-old-science machine (Finnigan Neptune MC-ICPMS for anyone who cares) gathering some kick-ass data. But I am done thinking about science for today, I just want to let the machine do its thing and think about other things.

A brought me dinner in the lab, a god send. And apparently today he read my blog (for the first time). I have avoided talking about him because he gets nervous about being exposed to the interwebs, but today he felt left out. So I have been given permission to talk about A.

The quintessential my-husband-is-divine moment happened last week. It was the first day of my excruciating back woes. A worked a 10+ hour shift and got home when I was already in bed (though only semi-asleep, curled up in pain). He crawled into bed next to me, and probably was already drifting off to sleep, when I woke up and had the nerve to ask him for a back rub. At 1:30 in the morning. I felt terrible asking, it just hurt so bad. He didn't know yet about my terrible back woes, because they had just hit that day while he was at work. But he did it. Enthusiastically, even. He has un-grudgingly given me a back rub every time I've asked for one, which is sometimes in the double digits per day. And I feel like the luckiest girl on earth every time.

Nursery Progress

I'm posting some pics of where the nursery stands. I like where it's headed, but it's needs something more, I'm just not sure what. I will be lining all the baskets underneath the changing table (not just the one) and will probably make a changing pad cover to match the basket liners. The cross over the crib was A's idea; it seems a little overbearing to me, but I lost that battle. Also, I'm torn on whether to recover the chair in red fabric, or whether that would be overkill. I'd love to hear feedback and ideas from folks, both positive and negative.

Chiropractic Magic

It's been a rough, rough week. Now that I've returned to basic, run-of-the-mill pregnancy aches and pains, I feel positively jubilant. I got hit with severe back pain this week. It was frustrating to me how many people were like "Yah, I got that too in pregnancy. It's a bummer." No, you obviously didn't. Because if you had, you wouldn't have described it as a bummer. It was more Pscycho-shower-scene-somebody-stabbing-you-in-the-back. I have the bummer pregnancy back pain, too, but this is much, much different.

I would start out in the morning feeling fine, after a night of great sleep. But part way through the day my back would start to hurt, even from doing nothing more than sitting there. By the end of the day I was in excruciating I-would-be-happy-to-overdose-on-painkillers pain. And considering I hate taking medicine, that says a lot. Anyway. Saw my midwife on Friday, she gave me a pregnancy belt (which seems to do nothing). And she gave me a referral for a physical therapist, but I couldn't get in for over a week and just couldn't stand it. So I saw a chiropractor yesterday, and I feel so much better. It wasn't magical, all-of-a-sudden-healing. But by the end of the day, despite being more active than other days, I wasn't cursing this poor babe for the pain she's causing me.

And today I feel even better. It's too soon to say I'm cured, and I plan to go back again on Tuesday. But it's the best I've felt in almost a week. And my skepticism of chiropractors is gone (at least partially).

In other news, I'm trying to finish up the nursery for the baby shower next weekend. But I've been so incapacitated I've made little progress this week, and may not make much more this week. We'll have to see. I put the "Nerdy Baby ABC" cards on the wall, which I still love, but decided they seem a bit "My-kid-is-an-honor-roll-student-at-blah-middle-school", which I hate. We got them because they're funny, but I'm starting to realize they could easily be conceived of as obnoxious once you hang them on the wall. So I'm not sure what we'll do for that wall yet.

Lastly, we officially switched to a midwife. I like my OB, had no complaints, but considering everything about this pregnancy has been by-the-book normal, I decided there was no need for an OB. As A puts it, OBs are surgeons. As such, they like surgery. If you want to avoid surgery, why would you choose an OB? I think a midwife will be less likely to push for medical intervention and more likely to let labor progress naturally. And now that A's on board as well, there was no reason not to.

Motherly paranoia

I continue to discover new things that I should probably be paranoid about. Recent additions to the list:

1) Garden hoses. Apparently they all contain lead. Or at least, the good ones that don't kink and gets holes and drive me batty contain lead. And since I water my garden, which grows my vegetables, which I then ingest, I should probably care that they contain lead.

2) Mattresses. They're all supposed to be flame retardant now. How do you make something flame retardant? You douse it with chemicals. How stupid is this? Of all the things I do in a day that is likely to cause me to go up in flames, sleeping is the safest. When I accidentally turn the wrong gas burner on and singe my shirt sleeve: far more dangerous. When I spill gasoline on my pants while filling up my car: far more dangerous. But I am supposed to be scared about sleeping? I DON't SMOKE!!! Why the hell would I worry about going up in flames while I'm asleep? You know what else? My baby doesn't smoke! Why does her crib mattress have to be flame retardant? This is a stupid, stupid law.

3) Grass clippings? Cool whip? Converse sneakers? I'm not sure, but there must be something else earth shattering I should be paranoid about. Considering plastics are now unsafe (BPA), as are cosmetics (EDTA) and dogs (saliva) I should just knit my own cocoon out of organic wool and not come out for a while.

My nesting is not like your nesting

I read quite a few blogs. Lots of pregnant chick blogs, or recently pregnanted blogs. Because that's where I am, that's where my head is, and, sadly, that's just about all I think about. It's no wonder I haven't made any new friends in a while... me and my one track mind.

Anyway. Everyone talks about their nesting. How they're climbing on furniture to dust the top of the undusted fan blades. Moving settees (what is a settee, anyway?) to vacuum in places no one will ever see. Taking out all their china to clean it and pack it away again.

I am nesting too. But my nesting is not like your nesting. My nesting involves finally trying to do something about the (very visible) mold on the shower curtain. Trying to track down the source of the fruit fly epidemic in our kitchen, which happens to be some 3-month old potatos in a sack on top of the refrigerator. And finally cleaning up the 2 years worth of spilled detergent on the floor next to the washing machine (which includes an entire bucket of spilled oxyclean and ~1/2 a bottle of liquid Tide that slowly leaked due to a poor bottle closure on my part.)

This kid better be born with a robust immune system. I hope evolution has also taught her not to put anything she finds on our floor in her mouth. Luckily, Vito will likely take care of floor cleanup before she gets the chance.

In which I show my face

Well, so far I've avoided actual pictures of me in my blog. But today A played photographer and I want to post some of the better shots. I'm not that happy with the ones of both of us, but that is largely because we had to run back and forth to set the timer and thus only got a few with both of us. So this is my justification to buy a wireless remote for the camera!

I think I'm in love.

This site has the coolest baby art I've ever seen. I was looking for something befitting the progeny of two scientists, and this is just perfect. Now to choose...

I woke up early today (aka "on time") and was all excited for a nice, early arrival at work. But instead I decided to update the blog. Meh.

I don't have much to say, other than to reiterate how much I hurt. Everywhere. Hands. Feet. Calves. Buttocks. Eyelids, now that I think about it. 2. More. Months. I'm already looking forward to going to the birthing tent at the state fair, because I will sit down with the animals and tell them I understand. Can you imagine giving birth with hundreds of screaming kids and sorority girls staring at you, trying to pet you? I already told A I'm going to play a practical joke, bring a water balloon and discreetly pop it in the birth tent as though my water has broken. Maybe I'll ask a vet to deliver me.

The state fair is my personal reason that I hope I don't go into labor early. Because I love the state fair. I think we go 3 times each year, each time gushing about how wonderful it is. What is so wonderful, exactly? I don't know. The fried food, to be sure. The useless brochures for housing improvements we think we need. The random crafts that you forgot people still do.

The nursery is almost finished. After that, it's pack the hospital bag time. Then it's have the shower time, and fill in anything I need. (Nipple cream!) Then it's time to wait. I don't quite understand this "nesting" thing people talk about; other than those tasks, all I want to do is sit on the couch. Baby doesn't care if the house is clean. And she won't crawl for a while, so I have time to worry about the floors. Maybe my "nesting" jut has yet to hit.

3rd tri slump

Fatigue is here. I thought I would be able to avoid him for another month or so, but he is unrelenting. The beginning of 3rd tri was pretty mellow, I managed to get quite a bit done and was feeling good, if a bit awkward. 30 weeks hit and I was done for. 31 weeks hit (today!) and I'm even more done for. Does that mean that I'll just keep thinking I hit rock bottom for the next 9 weeks, and it will never level out? Oy! I have the achy feeling that you get before you get really sick, only there's no sickness. Unless you consider baby a sickness, but that's just unkind.

I'm thankful I have the kind of job (though A says it's not really a job. But I get paid, so I think it counts) where I can decide for myself when enough is enough. But I still have 2 months left! I've been thinking all along that it's justifiable to stop coming in when I'm 2 weeks out, but that gives me 7 more weeks I need to hang on for. That sounds like a very long time. Hopefully this is just a phase...

In other news, the nursery is in progress. It is completely different than what I had initially envisioned, but I'm digging it. And considering I've spent $170 on everything in there I think I'm doing awfully good (my mom bought the crib, so that's cheating a little, but still good). I'll post pictures when I feel that I'm nearing completion.

How do people find me?

Apparently, people in the world, particularly in Germany, are googling "Diaper World". And they find my post, several posts down, titled as such. I have searched for "Diaper World", even in German, and have found nothing; or at least, what I consider nothing. What are these people looking for? Are these people interested in cloth diapering, or is this some sort of weird fetish which the Germans are oh-so-good at?

Heartburn...

This is a new experience for me. An internal burning sensation that makes me suspect that if I speak out loud I will breathe fire. So I only speak in my head. It hit me last night, after scarfing down ~3 more chocolate chip cookies than I should have. It stayed with me all night. This morning, in my drooling-incoherency, I lifted my head from the pillow as A was getting ready and asked him to drug me. He likes when I do this. Usually he tells me to take something and I ignore him, and he gets all bitter and mumbles something sarcastic about how I'm not complying with treatment recommendations. This morning, ranitidine was a godsend.

My waddle has a soundtrack

Can. Not. Concentrate. And since I believe in overcompensating to make up for lost time, I think 2 posts in one day is a great idea. Here's my random thoughts on pregnancy for the moment, at exactly 30 weeks.

1. No real food cravings, but I have been eating strawberries like a mad woman. I've always liked strawberries, but only to the degree of buy-them-a-few-times-each-season. I've been going through about a pound every two days. I would probably go through more, but that would require more trips to the store. But I've had no wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-because-I-need-pickles moments.

2. Other favorite ingestable right now is fruit iced tea. Specifically, Celestial Seasonings True Blueberry and Black Cherry Berry. Though my trip to their website just now brings to my attention Acai Mango Zinger and Tropic of Strawberry. I'll add those to my must try list. Drop 5 teabags in a pitcher of water, stick in fridge overnight. Voila.

3. I hurt. All over. My feet constantly feel like I've just walked 60 Manhattan city blocks (I did that once, I speak from experience). I went shoe shopping for some comfier flip flops yesterday, because even Chaco's weren't cutting it. I found these Teva flip flops, they are like glorious little foot cushions. The only downside is that they squeak so much when I walk that my waddle has a soundtrack.

4. In 1.5 months I will be full term. Holy crap, that's soon.

5. As I mentioned a few posts ago, A will be my birth coach. He's taking it very seriously, which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. He really doesn't take very much seriously, except maybe his job. But compared to the ER trauma he sees most of the time, he could care less about most other things that I tell him he should take serously. Like money. Or the many personal property items (including wallet) he frequently loses. Or a dirty toilet. It's sometimes a source of frustration to me. I was afraid he would approach this the same way, since he's seen plenty of women give birth and they all manage to pull it off. So what's the need of the coach? But that has not been the case. He takes my desire to forego meds seriously and is reading up on how he can coach me through this. I feel very, very lucky.

A spattering of nursery.

Well, I'm apparently already a slacker momma. The weight gain metaphor? Still at 27 weeks. Today? 30 weeks!!! 3 weeks overdue. I know everyone loves sock monkeys, but that's insufficient justification. But it turns out that Parents.com, where I was linking to, has no comparisons past 27 weeks (though I didn't realize this until today, it's just a convenient excuse). Apparently, from here on out there is so much variability in fetal weight gain that they stop the metaphors. Half the time I'm hoping for a big baby, to justify my above average weight gain, but then I remember that no matter the size of the baby it has to come out of the same size hole. Then I hope for an average baby.

It's hard for me to realize that baby could survive on her own right now. I'm hoping she doesn't make a go of it for a while yet, but she could. And in two more weeks her survivability dramatically goes up outside of this here ute. Wow, how did she already get so big? I went to Babies 'R Us yesterday to register (some stuff you can't register for online) and was looking at the 12 month clothing, already sad about how quickly she'll apparently grow.

The other debacle of the past few weeks has been the nursery. I had a whole scheme. I had an inspiration nursery. I bought paint. But it's not going to work. I started scraping the cracked paint from the previous owners, only to realize I was scraping off 5 layers of paint, not 1. Which means, in our 100 year old house, that it was certainly leaded. I talked to the paint people: no good way around this, other than to scrape everything down, prime and try again. But, being as the previous paint really wasn't in bad shape, and was a nice cream color, I just couldn't do it. Fatigue has been hitting me hard core, and my feet constantly hurt. It was no longer worth dealing with something that didn't need to be done.

So the nursery design has started over. Here's what we have so far:
Crib set



















Crib
















Rug






















And art...











































Not to mention a garage sale glider and a dresser I picked up free off the curb. Everything looks a bit ragtag at the moment, we'll have to see how this comes together.

Happy blood and the waddle

So I officially don't have gestational diabetes. Which is a grandiose relief. I actually was nervous about this one, because I've gained so much weight, several members of my family have diabetes and.... because it gave me something to worry about. These are my non-scientific, totally irrational reasons that I was concerned. But I'm free and clear, and then my intense hunger hit. I've had this a few times throughout pregnancy, wherein no amount of food is sufficient to quell the hunger demon. But it's as though my body (or psyche) was waiting to be given the free food pass. And.... 3 pounds in 3 days. *sigh* My doctor even told me the weight gain was acceptable this month, though I could hardly believe my ears. Looks like that will not be true next month.

I scheduled all my OB appointments. Doing that made the birth seem... imminent. A formerly pregnant friend told me in early preganancy how it had dawned on her in month 8 that this creature has to come out (though she's too motherly to use the word creature). I think it's starting to dawn on me. It didn't need to dawn on me before, because I wasn't that big, and she wasn't that big, and therefore the prospect didn't seem scary. But the bigger she gets, the more unlikely the orange-through-a-grape-hole seems.

The other development of the week is the waddle. I was so pleased, just last week, to realize that I was still walking normally. But this week I find myself waddling, clomping one foot in front of the other. And having to pee so frequently that even when I've run dry I still feel the need to pee.

I've been reading, reading, reading. The Baby Catcher, which made me more excited and empowered about all this. It also convinced me we need a doula, until I realized it would be $800. So it made me realize A will just have to learn to be a doula. That's how it's got to be. So now I'm making him read The Birth Partner, though I'm reading it with him. This one was recommended by our birth class instructor, and it is very good. Practical and helpful, though perhaps a bit dry. The one I started and just couldn't handle was Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering. Absurdity. She rails against gestational diabetes testing... though the best reason she seems to list against it is inconvenience. I'm all for a certain degree of natural childbirth, but she takes it too far. Furthermore, she keeps calling herself a "physician" but never says more than that. With the frequency of the term "naturopathic physician" this leads me to question the authenticiity of her supposed training. I'm also reading Uranium: War, Energy and the Rock That Shaped the World for fun (I swear, it's really good.)

Bluetooth Foofoo

A woman got on the bus this morning carrying ~15 plastic bags. These were not I-just-went-grocery-shopping plastic bags, but rather these-are-holding-half-of-my-worldly-possessions-and-the-other-half-is-under-a-bridge plastic bags. Poor dear, etc. BUT she had a bluetooth. When I think bluetooth, I think of people who are so busy that they can't bother to hold their phone to their ear. And to be fair, her hands were full. But really? For some reason that I cannot fathom it seems that everybody I actually see with bluetooths is not of the super-busy-my-net-income-is-equivalent-to-a-small-island-nation's variety, but more of the bag-lady variety. There is likely a whole separate population of people that fit into the first category that I don't regularly encounter, but it still doesn't make sense to me. Is bluetooth really just the new lazy?

Messy can be cute

Distance

...and I know the distance is only going to grow. But seriously, not a single one of my friends have kids. I take that back, 2 of them do, but their kids have grown and they've had 20 some years to make peace with the mental distance between themselves and the rest of us. I love my friends, but it would sure be nice if there was someone I felt like I have something in common with (okay, really just this mentally all-consuming thing). These people do exist, and I even like them, but they don't come out very often. Which possibly means that will be us in 3 months, and it won't matter that I can't relate to anyone because I won't have time to relate to them. Or it's possible they all feel distant, too, and choose to be separate. Only time will tell which camp I fall into.

Anyway, other than feeling sorry for myself and being completely uninspired by work, life is good. And unexciting. A works all the time, I spend all my free time working on the basement. Hopefully to be completed this weekend. I'm trying to appreciate the peace, embrace the quiet, knowing it won't last forever. Le sigh. I think the peonies help with everything.