Things I Didn't Know Before I Got Knocked Up

1. In a single week, my daily pregnancy calender dropped these two delightful bombs on me:
         a) You may notice leaking colostrum.  (By the way, this is breast milk)
         b) You may be experiencing leaking urine or stress incontinence.
Wow, REALLY?  You have forty weeks to discuss the possibility that I am going to be walking around while still pregnant leaking breast milk and peeing on myself and you do it within two days of one another.  Awesome.  Oh, and Honey, no need to set the sprinklers up in the backyard this week.  I am just going to go lay out in the yard and leak all over it.  Thats disgusting. And unnecessary.  And I am not sorry I shared it with you. But, in case you are wondering, I have not as of today peed my pants or sprouted breast milk onto myself.  Trust me, I will let you know when either of the above events occurs.  BUT on a related note, something else I learned the hard way in this pregnancy is that your nose bleeds. Just randomly starts leaking blood even if you have never had a nose bleed before.  I am really rooting for the leakage trifecta - the perfect storm if you will.  Hopefully somewhere good and public, like the cookie aisle at Kroger.  I hope I leak blood from my nose, milk from my boobs, and urine, well from you know where, all at the same time and completely freak some little kid out.  That'll teach her abstinence.

2. You can gain thirty some odd pounds while pregnant.  The scale does go that high.  Your doctor will tell you to lay off the bonbons.  You will hate her when she tells you this.  And laugh to yourself as you leave the doctor's office and proceed to immediately go eat a bacon cheeseburger.  With fries. This is what you look like:

And for a close up:

And yes, we were just kidding with the whole kiss her belly shot.  We are not actually that dorky.  I, however, am that huge. 

3. It is possible to fall in love with someone you have never met, and when you see his perfect little face you just know that he is yours and while you have no idea what you are going to do with him when he gets here, you can't freaking wait to introduce yourself. 

Remind me how excited I was for him to get here in about ten weeks when I haven't slept, eaten, or showered in days and own no article of clothing that has not been peed, pooped, or spit up on. 



Say What?

I know I have blogged about this before but I remain in awe at the things people will say to you when you are pregnant.  Its like just because you got knocked up some people forget they still have to abide by societal norms and general social etiquette. 

The other night - it was actually like two weeks ago, I have become incredibly lazy in all parts of my life including the ol' blog -- me and the hubs had to attend an epidural class.  You are probably wondering what this is because apparently the hospital here is the only one in the whole world who requires this.  But its a class wherein you go and learn about epidurals and then sign an informed consent form that you have to have to get an epidural once you are in labor.  And word on the street is that if you don't have your white consent form you aint gettin' an epidural.  So, just to be on the safe side, we signed up for the April class - Mama don't want to feel nothing during this whole labor/delivery nonsense. 

Anywho, as we make our way into the hospital, an elderly lady perched in a wheelchair just inside the door to the hospital greets us with a smile with which, of course, we return people observing general social norms usually do.  Then, the wench says to me, "Gurrrrrllll, you already got the weeble wobbles." Say what?? The weeble wobbles? Do you mean to say that this is what I remind you of?

Awesome.  At least I can still weeble wobble, Cankle Marie with your orthopedic shoes. Strike that - that is an ugly thing to think about an elderly woman in a wheelchair with no ankles to speak of.  But I mean seriously folks, don't ever tell a very pregnant, very waddley woman that she has the weeble wobbles, especially in front of her husband.  Because for a solid week after that, Robby was all jokes about the weeble wobbles.  Made me want to weeble wobble him.  And it really added fuel to the fire that was already lit by his earlier question to me --

Back up a few days and I will relay the most sensitive and loving question my sweet, dear husband has ever asked me (Robby, I know you will be reading this, and you don't probably want me blogging about you, but you undyng concern about my well being cannot go without public praise)

As I was again apparently waddling to the car through a very long and hot parking lot, Robby looked at me and asked me why I was walking like that, you know with my legs spread apart and all waddley like?? Say what sweet hubby of mine?  Why am I waddling through this parking lot like there is something between my legs?  Because there is something between my legs - its a combination of the child you helped produce and my inner thighs which have grown to be so thick that I am seriously concerned about chafing at this point. I mean my legs look like someone taped one of those big turkey legs you get at the fair to the inside of each of my thighs. I am going to have to start wearing biking shorts to just cut down on the friction - either that or continue to weeble wobble every wear I go.  OR maybe I can go borrow Cankle Marie's wheelchair for the next ten weeks.

And finally, if one more person asks me how far along I am (to which I always politely reply the appropriate amount of time minus like a week to make myself feel better) and then get this kind of shocked and horrified expression and respond oh, you have a lot longer to go or oh really that much longer or any other form of the phrase holy crap fatso you are going to be freaking huge by then, I am going to jump you.  I mean get it together folks. Learn to control your facial expressions before you question me on my due date. Oh, and weird guy from Monday - telling a woman who just told you she isn't due until the end of June that she looks miserable already and its going to be a long ten weeks is reason enough for me to slit your tires.  If I could bend over that low.  Your gut hangs out further than mine and you look miserable too and you have a lifetime to go judging by the size of that donut you are shoveling in your mouth. 

Say what?

ANABART

This whole pregnancy thing has really started to drag on and on and on and on.  I mean the first few months were all like "oh cool, growing life, having a baby, yippee ki yay (and yes I googled how to spell that).  But now, my boobs are permanently resting on my belly, I am constantly out of breath, and the thought of continuing to grow (and then swell) for another approximately 86 more days is almost more than I can stand.

Now don't get me wrong - I am so excited to have a baby, glad he is doing great in there, yadda yadda yadda, insert any other disclosure that reassures you that I am not a terrible person taking for granted how lucky I am to have this opportunity.  But seriously folks, MY BOOBS AND MY BELLY HAVE LITERALLY FUSED INTO A SINGLE, COHESIVE UNIT.  Like I am worried about something getting lost in there.  And its not just the boob/belly thing.  I was driving in my car yesterday and noticed that there are parts of my back/arm fat resting against the car seat that did not used to be there.  And you can forget about the thighs - they have so much friction going on from rubbing together that I am worried about starting a fire and becoming seriously injured in my nether region.

But, enough about me - well I mean the whole blog is basically about me so I am going to continue rambling about myself, but will at least move onto a less volumptous topic.  Because I seriously feel like all I ever talk about is how huge I feel.  So, I am going to make it a point to discuss something else. 

Last week, I started randomly having Braxton Hicks contractions.  You might already know this, but if you don't here is some useful information about this phenomenon- If you start having Braxton Hicks contractions at 27 weeks, this apparently is a-okay.  And no reason to call your mother and husband and inform them that you may be having preterm labor because the website you were reading says you shouldn't be having these yet.  My doctor infomed me it was perfectly fine.  --Now, don't just go based on what I said.  I mean I am no doctor and in no way mean for this statement to guide you in anything you do.  Just recounting what MY doctor said --

The whole Braxton Hicks thing is really quite a bizarre phenonmeon.  First, you are just waddling down the street minding your own business and your whole gullet starts to sqeeze up like you are having a charlie horse in your uterus - and I wasn't even exactly sure where my uterus was! But when it starts to pucker up like a kid eating a lemon you know exactly where it is.  And you think to yourself, "Self, I think you are having a contraction. One of those Braxton Hicks things. Perhaps I should google this and see if this normal."

Well, Google produced the following results:
1. They are named after John Braxton Hicks, the doctor who first described them in 1872.  Now, why did it take a male doctor until 1872 to "describe" them and how the heck does he know how to describe them.  Does he have a uterine wall that is contracting at irregular intervals?  I think not.  It really irritates me that we named them after this man.  This man that did not have to deal with the ordeal of pushing something out of his whoo-haa a few short months later after he so eloquently "described" them for all the world.  So I am renaming them - ANABART contractions.  Which stands for Allegedly Not As Bad As the Real Thing contractions.  I add the allegedly because if you are having an ANABART contraction, you haven't experienced a real contraction so you don't know for sure.  And also, because I plan on having an epidural at like week 32 and every week thereafter so I hope to not feel any real contractions.

2. ANABART contractions are apparently caused by dehydration or a full bladder.  So drink up, but don't drink too much. Helpful I know.

3. ANABART contractions can also be brought on by "overdoing" it but can be are alleviated by exercise.  Again, helpful.  However, I am joining the camp that states they are brought on by overdoing it.  I will from this point on be taking every elevator I can find and have stopped doing any type of cooking or cleaning.  Considering telling my boss that waking up before 9  or working past 3 is going to be overdoing it and we will have to adjust my work schedule accordingly. For the baby's sake of course.

4. Apparently the best way to tell if your contractions are false labor or real labor is if they continue to get stronger and closer together for a period of time they are probably real contractions.  Or if a baby starts coming out.  (I added the second part, but it seems logical that if a baby is coming out of your body, it was real contractions and you should probably call someone.)

I will be contacting the authorities who name bodily functions as soon as possible to tell them about the new name.  If you have these powerful people's contact information, that would be helpful and appreciated.  Sorry John Braxton Hicks, but your time in the limelight is over.