Saturday, July 25, 2009

Joys of Pregnancy II

**This post has been certified sarcasm free for your enjoyment.
*** Not really. I don't think I'm capable.
OK, I feel bad for complaining about pregnancy constantly, even if it IS the scourge of my existance. It occurs to me that these next few months may be the last time I'm pregnant for the rest of my life, in which case I'll never get to experience the thrill of incubating a new human life ever again. Other than inspiring me to write a sonnet, go frolicking in a field somewhere and start a maternity clothing bonfire, that thought does make me just a teeny, tiny bit sad. Here are a few of the things I actually do enjoy about being pregnant.

#1: Having my legs shaved for me in the third trimester by my husband. Yes, he does.
#2: Feeling those little flutters and bumps in the night develop into actual baby parts. As in, oops, there's a foot. And I think that might be a shoulder blade or a...butt.
#3: My doctor. He's adorable and we love him. He sings to Sofia, banters in Spanish with Hugo and comes up to me in the hallways at the hospital to rub my belly whenever he sees me.
#4: My belly. Yes, I said my belly. The thing is, it may be extremely rotund right now, but pregnancy is when its at its firmest, believe it or not. A pregnant belly is very different from just a flabby belly.
#5: Taking three hour naps every day and not even having to feel lazy for doing it. I'm really lucky because I have an extremely adaptable 1 year old who has adjusted to my nap schedule quite nicely. She used to take two shorter naps a day and now she lays down with me every day at 11, right after Sesame Street is over, and we don't stir until 2 or so.
#6: Eating. Whatever I want. Whenever I want. I'm very lucky that I haven't had any trouble with pregnancy related diabetes or anything like that. I eat a diet consisting mainly of carbohydrates and fats and the baby seems to be thriving on that. I must have a pancreas and gallbladder made of steel...
#7: For every person out there who has said something unkind, unthoughtful and/or just plain stupid, there are several people who have been supportive and nice to me. I just don't remember what they say as well as I remember the "zingers" thrown at me by the morons. Human nature I suppose.
#8: No pimples. I haven't had a breakout since before I got pregnant. I don't know why, but my face likes being pregnant.
#9: Cinnamon Sugar soft pretzels from Aunty Anne's at the mall. I'm very fortunate to have them in my life.
#10: Maternity leave. I'll get to spend 3 months changing my babies' diapers, cleaning up their messes, feeding them, and pushing them around in strollers instead of doing all those things for my patients. With a little luck, there'll be no enemas. Although everyone who knows me knows there's nothing I enjoy more than a good enema. For my patients, not for me.
#11: I could round this out by saying something like, being treated like a princess by my wonderful Hugo, but let's face it. He's always treated me like a princess and pregnancy is no exception. He tolerates with good nature the 325 dollar electric bill (have I mentioned that my internal thermostat is set on "furnace" and its frickin hot in Florida?), my inability to perform routine hygiene activities (like shaving my own legs), my constant lamentations over stretch marks and weight gain, my middle of the night screechings when I wake up to a wicked Charley Horse in my calf, and my fluctuating ability to provide meals on a regular basis when he gets home from work. Pregnancy is no picnic for him either, but now that he's seen what it results in (Sofia) he's hooked. In fact, he mentioned yesterday something about wanting at least 4 more. At which point I laughed hysterically and advised him to start looking for a surrogate. I hear Octomom's available.

Friday, July 17, 2009

The joys of pregnancy

My second pregnancy (coming so fast on the heels of my first) has brought back so many wonderful memories of stuff that I had blocked out for my own emotional and psychological well-being. Not to mention some new experiences that are no doubt exclusive to the repeat pregnancy offender.
First of all, I had forgotten how much fun it is to be in the grocery store, with a cart full of stuff and have to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW. No doubt I didn't block this memory out from the last pregnancy; its just that having to dash into the Publix restroom, leaving my cart full of stuff outside the door, while being inconvenient and slightly embarassing, was not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Now when it happens though, I have a 13 month old in the cart and have to furiously struggle to release her from the seatbelt (which I have to use on her since one of her favorite things to do these days is get into a standing position in the grocery cart, thereby giving me and those in the immediate vacinity a heart attack of the very first order), yank her out of the thing and take her into the bathroom with me, get my fat pregnant girl pants down while holding her and then...ahem, do my business with an inquisitive and slightly talkative toddler in my lap. Fun. Worthy of run-on sentences fun, I tell ya.
Another thing that I didn't get to experience the first time around was the discussion about the dreaded pregnancy belt with my doctor. I'm not sure if this little chat is typically reserved for the second time around or if I just lucked out the first time since my doctor is a guy and pretty much doesn't think about stuff like abdominal girthiness and the stressing out of the "natural girdle muscles" of the abodminal region. I saw a different doctor for my last visit since my own doctor was out of town and it was a girl doctor. She spent 20 minutes, with Hugo in the room, describing the necessity of getting a good maternity belt to support the sagging abdominal muscles. The description, though apt, of my medial region, was enough to send even the most stallwart of gestating females into paroxisms of "why didn't I do more crunches during the 5 minutes that I wasn't pregnant" lamentations. Hugo offered to take me maternity belt shopping that weekend. I still haven't taken him up on his offer. If I pretend my abdominal musculature doesn't exist, ...
Another joy that I think is actually a unique experience for me alone is the nosebleeds. For some reason, I get nosebleeds during pregnancy. It happened last time with Sofia. The nosebleed always emanated from the left nostril for that pregnancy and for this one, it always emanates from the right one. This has prompted the helpful speculation of my doctor that this must mean I'm having a boy. Other than making meaningful remarks such as this, my doctor has been fairly useless in dealing with this problem. Since they aren't being caused by hypertension, they really don't concern him too much. Imagine if you will, being at home alone with a small child. The small child falls down, hurts herself, and requires maternal comforting and cuddling. At the same time, the mother's nose starts spurting blood. It always happens at a most convenient time like this. The mother is then trying to awkwardly (is any action not akward when one is in the third trimester?) hold and comfort the small child while holding a tissue to her nose and a bag of frozen peas to her neck (for some reason it helps to stop the bleeding). This wasn't addressed in "What to Expect When You're Expecting". Not even the most recent edition, which features a much-updated picture of a pregnant woman wearing sassy maternity jeans rather than the previous one that shows her wearing a floral maternity dress,the likes of which has not been worn by any non-Duggers in the last 20 years.
There are many other fun things I could talk about. Such as, when people at work ask me when I'm due and I tell them and they act, well, clearly horrified. As in, "You're not due till OCTOBER?!" That's a real self-esteem booster I tell ya. And a word to the wise; It is NEVER appropriate to ask a pregnant woman if she is expecting multiples. This is on par with the faux pas of asking a non-pregnant woman if she is expecting. It doesn't matter if the woman in question is Kate and her abdomen protrudes out so far that she clearly has a litter of children in there...DO NOT DO IT. The only appropriate thing to say about a pregnant woman's size is, "Oh my goodness, you don't even look pregnant from behind." Even when we are lumbering along like a mack truck with a double load, we love to hear that our posterior hasn't totally kept up with the growth going on out front. Even if we know its a lie. Honesty is extremely over-rated when it comes to pregnancy.
To be fair, I imagine that the questions, comments and observations that I get to endure on a nightly basis at work are worst then they would be for someone who worked, say, in an office or something. Someone with an office job would work with the same people every day, and presumably, after some initial curiosity and interest, everyone would eventually get tired of talking about so and so's ever-expanding abdominal region and move on to something else for the remainder of the pregnancy. Not so with my job. I work with a large number of people on a constantly rotating schedule, so every time I work, I have to answer the same questions. I'm due October 1st. No, it isn't twins. I don't know what I'm having, its going to be a surprise. My friend Kayla is threatening to have a pin or a t-shirt made for me with these things printed on it to save me from having to repeat myself ad-nauseum. And by the time I work with someone again, they have forgotten the answers to these questions and have to ask them all over again.
One of the things that,suprisingly, doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would, is having people touch my belly. It isn't fun, during the first trimester, when you haven't even begun to show and people are just grabbing at your own belly flab of course. Which they do. But now, my belly honestly feels like such a foreign thing to me that it really doesn't feel at all overly intimate for people to touch me there. Its kind of like watching someone paw over a clearance table at Bed Bath and Beyond. You might think to yourself, "Boy, they are really making a mess of that clearance table," but it doesn't concern you, so why get bent out of shape? Mind you, that isn't an invitation for anyone. The only people I actually enjoy having rub my belly are Hugo and Sofia. Though I sort of suspect that even though its really cute when Sofia does it, she'll probably keep on doing it, to my eventual public embarassment, after the baby is born.
While there is much more to be said on the subject (I could write a book if I thought anyone would actually read it, the only people that can get away with writing books about their own pregnancies are celebrities), I think I better stop now. Ranting is only good for the fetus in very small doses. Besides, I have to pee.