Week 40 Update: Baby!

Hey there.  In spite of this whole pregnancy thing being a total fluke, homeboy was determined to make his appearance as scheduled.  I was originally due the 21st, then moved to 3/24, then 3/28, then at my last sonogram on February 25, they moved me back to 3/21.  Lo and behold if I didn't go into labor on Sunday night and there he was by Monday evening, right on time.  I take this to mean he'll be exceptional (since only what, 5% of kiddos are born on their due dates) from here on out.  When I've got a bit more time, I'll recount labor and delivery - mostly for me, so I don't forget.  It was something else.  Not that I had anything to compare it to.  In the meantime, prepare for an onslaught of pics of my bambino!

Henry Alexander Oberst

March 21, 2011

6 pounds, 12 ounces

20 inches long 

Ignore our weirdo faces, my doc had literally just thrown a baby at me.  Thankfully, the nurse (who was so awesome!) was totally with it and started snapping away while we're were making goofy mugs.

 

So new!  I can't believe he crossed the one week mark yesterday.  Sniffle.

 

K and H chillin' like villains.  No, they're not villainous at all.  

Stretching out before checking out of the hospital.  Seriously, they just let you leave.  Once I'd signed the forms, they could've cared less what we did with this kid.  They didn't even make me leave in a wheelchair!

At home, hanging out with his best Boppy friend.

Morning snuggle time.  With mittens.  This kid is doing everything he can to poke out his own eyes.  What's up with that?

So, yes, more later.  I'm running on empty (they forget to mention that you, the mama, will feel like total poo (and not go poo) for sometime after birth, but no one cares, especially your kid) with about four hours of sleep under my belt out of the last 48.  When we've better adjusted to our new normal, I hope to be back around here, but if you call me a mommyblogger, I will cut you.  Just saying.  I'm simply continuing to record and reveal fascinating snippets of my life and musings, they just now happen to include a baby.

Week 39 update:

You're still in there!  The dorky websites say you're the size of a watermelon, and for once, I believe them.  A smallish, roundish, not so ovalish watermelon, but melon nonetheless - except with arms and feet that insist on pummeling my insides - love you!  According to the doc, you're going to bake at least another week - no progress this time.  Fine by me!  Hang out all you want!  Crazy hormones talking here, but I feel like you're so much safer securely trapped on the inside that I'd rather you just continue your stint as internal wombmate for, you know, ever.  But that's crazy and you gotta get out and your dad really wants to meet you, so fine.  We'll do this thing the normal way, I suppose.

In the meantime, can I bitch a little bit?  Being pregnant is great and all that crap, except not really.  I mean, fine, it's ok and I'm super lucky to have experienced this and all that stuff (and I really mean that), but damn, I don't like how cranky and grouchy I've become because of feeling so physically blech.  My hips have essentially decided to not hold up the rest of my body any longer.  I've not gained any weight in the last few weeks (but assume there's been substantial shifting as the belly area has definitely grown, so fat is being redirected from somewhere, hopefully my thighs, please be my thighs) so it shouldn't be that, but dang if I can't get up.  Or sit down.  Or do anything without wincing like I've got a butt full of hemorrhoids.  Oh wait.  No, not yet, but I'm sure it's around the corner - I think it's last on the list of crappy pregnancy experiences.  In any case, I've really tried to pre-pamper this kid as much as possible by at least trying to provide for his basic needs at reasonable prices, but dude.  Help a mama out.  There should be a shower for moms to be where they give you a hair cut, a wax, a pedicure and prop you up (because your hips won't work) in front of a fun house mirror that makes you look unlike the bloated milk machine that you are and obscures your chins. 

Ok, back to being grateful that so far I'm suffering pretty well through this thing that a bajillion women have done selflessly (except for me) for thousands of years and that still nameless baby boy is right on track and healthy as can be.

Week 38 Update: Bowl of Pears

Yay!  Made it to week 38 without incident!  And by incident, I mean delivery because we are still soooooo not ready (at home and at work).  Ready-er, but not quite there.  You now at least have a choice of sleeping locations (crib and assembled pack and play), but no installed car seat, so we couldn't actually take you home to use them, so there's that.  All in good time, all in good time (or in the next two weeks or we're screwed).  Your little clothes have been washed, oh, about 12 times (I tried to make them softer, but because no fabric softener allowed, they kind of ended up crunchier, sadface), not that I have any idea what will actually fit you once you're on the other side.  You still have no set going home outfit, but I'm sure I'll come up with something... Right...  Other than that, I've got an appointment today where hopefully they'll let me know everything's still humming along a-ok and that you're facing the right direction and all that business.  Fingers crossed.

This week, all the websites are comparing you to some number of pears, which initially, I thought ridiculous.  However, last night, as I was in bed watching you presumably tap out morse code on my belly (because you're already a genius, duh), I realized that pile of pears isn't too far off - that's what you feel like - a bag of pears being shaken in all directions simultaneously.  Seriously, dude, what are you doing in there?

See you soon!  But not too soon, please.  Still need that two weeks, at least.

So,

I got a Parenting - Early Years magazine in the mail this week, so I'm all set, right?  That's pretty much all I'll need, I figure.

Week 37 Update: The Final Countdown

And by that I mean that week 37 is full term, according to most docs.  So, if yet to be named little man makes his debut before 40 weeks, he'd be a-ok.  But he better not have any such plans.  I'm super lucky to have a job, I know.  And I'm lucky to have a job that affords paid leave, I know (that said - I do have to use all of my accrued vacation and sick leave that I've earned over the past three and a half years to fund this maternity leave endeavor and I'm not psyched about this and I'll tell you why - faculty are paid for their maternity leave for up to eight weeks, staff must use leave if they wish to remain compensated during maternity leave HELLO UNFAIR!!!!!).  Where was I?  Right, so glad to have a job and six weeks paid leave to take (although I earned it and it's part of my compensation and I'd like to take eight since I don't know what to expect nor do I know if I'll ever have another kid and kinda want to savor what I can), but the preparing to take leave part is like having a second job, which sucks when I don't have time or energy to do my first job.  Blergh.  Again, lucky to be gainfully employed, especially in the rocky world of higher education, I know, but stressful nevertheless.  If I had a counterpart or back up, I'd feel a lot better, but our organization is structured in a way that each position is essentially one person deep, e.g. I am the one and only point person for 95% of my area of responsibility.  Spreading that around to other staff and training them to take some of the heat while I'm out is proving to be quite difficult.  I almost wonder if I just want to work a few days from home each week while I'm off to maintain some amount of continuity for employees and myself.  I've got to prepare to be gone, manage while I'm gone, then recover from being gone when I get back.  Is it worth it all?  So, that's today's complaint.

Other than that, baby and I are doing ok.  I'm definitely getting to the stage where I feel a faint waddle coming on, and I don't like it.  But no one asked me.  I feel like I weigh 200,000 pounds, but I actually dropped a couple lbs over the last week or so, not sure what's happening there, but the belly keeps on keepin' on, so I figure all is well.

I can't believe we're almost there!  I suppose I should do smart things now like learn the car seat sitch, pack the hospital bag, come up with at least a short list of names, but what do you bet I don't do any of that and watch Charlie Sheen rant and rave instead?

Dear baby,

no, you still don't have a name.  In any event, I was eating some kind of chocolate something or other this earlier today as a little pick me up because I only have energy from about 10am until 10.05am and need constant refueling and dropped part of it into the boob region of my dress, apparently, because hours later, when I looked down, I had a big ol' chocolate smear below my boobs, but above my belt, which sits right on top of you.  I think what I'm trying to say is thanks for creating a little hiding spot for my slovenliness.  I owe you!

Hey baby, hey baby, hey.

I've been getting songs with the words "baby" and "baby boy" in my head a lot lately, which is, of course, weird because they're mostly totally inappropriate, e.g. Sean Paul and Beyonce's summer anthem from a million years ago.  And that's what I'm thinking about this Friday night as I've been relegated to the couch due to an overzealous session with a burrito at Freebird.  I know I've talked about it before, but now I really mean it.  There is no room for food in my body any longer.  Not even half a veggie hybrid (the smallest one they make).  I have begged and pleaded with K to stop me from shoving anything and everything edible within my path into my face, but I think he's afraid of my probably reaction.  As he should be.  But dude!  Help a girl out!  Yeah, I might beat you up now, but I"ll probably think about thanking you later, before I forget.  In any case, I'm washed up on the couch with Z-town watching some TLC, heating pad blazing on my back while watching your little limbs make waves on my belly.  While I'm excited* for your arrival, I'm really going to miss my little internal roommate.  I'm sad thinking about it now. 

*"excited" is my PC way of saying scared shitless.

Week 35 Update

...

But seriously folks, I am hobbling around like an old lady with advanced osteoporosis.  Suddenly, it's like the uterine explosion has ransacked my muscles, tendons, ligaments and all that stuff in my pelvis, upper thighs, hips and where ever my abdominal muscles are hiding and I can't move.  Like literally.  I never knew what people meant when they "threw their back out, can't come into work today" but I totally get it now.  I could not get out of bed this morning.  Like at all.  Like I might as well have been paralyzed.  Weird.  After some Tylenol and application of heat, I can move around, but dang!  Can't do this every day.  Not sure if the answer is more or less activity, prenatal massage, a chiropractor, consistent application of heat and Tylenol or living in a swimming pool/bath tub, but I gotta figure out something.  Five weeks to go and I got a lot of stuff to do...

I think little dude's doing well, though.  He's developed all new moves due to his increasingly cramped quarters.  I still can't tell what's what, but I'm happy to know he's wiggling around in there. He gets the hiccups several times a day and has dance parties mostly early morning/late night.  They say those patterns continue after birth.  Yay!  At least he won't be tap dancing on my bladder once he makes his escape.  So, all in all, I still feel very fortunate that I've felt so well (aside from the occasional nervous breakdown/crying fit, random bout of extreme nausea, protesting digestive system, disagreeable muscles, sciatica, double chin growth, sometimes severe fatigue and giganto boob syndrome) and think I can hang on till he gets here without totally losing it, but that's still over a month away.  We shall see...

Oh, and all of the week 35 updates say he's the size of a honeydew, which he was last week.  Of course he's not honeydew like at all now or then. I don't know why they insist.  Now he's the size of a five pound baby...  because he is.

Wanna see something scary?

It's bee-spot with eight months and almost two weeks (34.75 weeks total) of baby growth! These are horrible iPhone photos. I look like a knocked up Heidi Klum in real life instead of a troll that swallowed a dwarf in a $5 Old Navy turtleneck and maternity jeggings.  Some people get to be cute pregnant chicks.  I am not one of those people.  It's all boob and belly.  But not for much longer!

Week 34 Update

It's a honeydew!  Can they not find something more baby shaped? Seriously.

Good news/bad news: went in for the 32/33 week sonogram to make sure everything's on track, which it is, in fact, little dude's weighing in at 4.5 lbs.  He best slow down on the growth.  I am not squeezing out a nine pounder, no way, no how.  Unless that's what happens, of course.  The perinatal guy said everything's a-ok, except that my amniotic fluid is down a quart, not really, but it's on the low side.   I was told to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate and come back in two weeks to see what the dilly is.  Luckily, I've got resources (Dr. Matthews) with OB/GYN hookups that say that had there really been an issue, I'd have been put on bedrest immediately.  Here's hoping that doesn't happen.  I can't afford that mentally, physically or financially.  Dude's got to stay in the oven until at least my due date so I can use every speck of leave I've earned.  Yay for no maternity leave!  In the meantime, I can't imagine drinking more water than I already do, but I'm trying!

My new best friend.

I can't believe I have less than two months to go.  Unfuckingreal.

Week 33 Update - a few days late/Dear baby,

Little dude!  We made it to week 33, which means, allegedly, the start of month eight.  And you know what, it's not that bad.  I have been packing on the poundage, but I figure I'm supposed to as you're now around 17 inches and several pounds.  Also, we've been snowed in for over 48 hours, which has meant chili, rice krispie treats, leftover enchiladas, pancakes and bacon, a multitude of snacks... and that was just this morning.  I joke.  Or do I? 

Anyhoo, you're more active than ever, proving to be quite an efficient internal alarm clock, waking me up early even though work's canceled.  But I'll take it.  I actually look pretty pregnant now and it's fun to lay back and watch you try to plot your way out or redecorate or practice krav maga or whatever it is you're doing in there that causes the ripples in my belly.  The downside is that we've grown so much in the last couple of weeks, that my belly skin is stretched to capacity, and we have a ways to go (7 - 9 more weeks, depending on your schedule).  To combat the itchy-achiness, I've been taking lots of baths with bath oil while listening to This American Life.  I'm pretty sure you now think that Ira Glass is your dad.  And maybe he is.  In my dreams.  I joke, real dad! 

Yesterday, due to being on weather lockdown, I washed all of your bedding, new blankets, truckload of clothes and anything else I could find.  Yeah, I'll probably wash it all again before you get here to ensure maximum cleanliness and softness, but it was good to get a head start before I went all The Shining.

So, I think you're cooking along just fine, but we'll see ourselves on Saturday.  My last sonogram was scheduled for yesterday, which was canceled. Obvs.  So, I've been rescheduled for Saturday during hospital clinic hours before the doc goes on a two week vacation.  Must be nice... Last time, I got totally sick during and was totally weirded out by the 3D images, but this time I'm actually looking forward to seeing your gigantic mama cheeks and your fat dad nose.  If we could choose, we'd give you our best features, but since you don't need boobs, you'll have to settle for my brain and here's hoping you get your dad's height, but not till after you're out.  Let's stay as wee as possible till you're on the other side, mkay?

See you soon!  Not too soon, though.

In a related story - knocked up celeb couture as per Vulture.

Dear baby, it's your week 32 update.

Hot damn!  Time flies (when you don't know you're knocked up for a lot of it).  In any event, you're the size of a random fruit or vegetable this week.  Shocking!  Allegedly, you weigh about 3.5 pounds.  At the rate I'm/we're growing, I'd believe it.  I'm about to enter the stage of gaining a poundish a weekish (so far, mostly in my second chin) and I'm terrified, so hang on for your growth spurt, little dude.  You're about to run out of room to continue the acrobatics you're so fond of.  ALL THE TIME.  Except for sometimes, then I freak out completely, convinced something is wrong, but then you flip around and all is well.  Right so, you're still nameless and might remain this way until you're old enough to choose your own, at the rate we're moving on this decision.  It will be weird when you're President Batman Oberst, but the country'll get used to it.  In the meantime, I think I've found what I want to take you home in.  Not that it will fit, or that you'll wear it for more than 30 seconds without barfing or pooing all over it, but a mama can dream, right?

via ittikid

Going to birthing class, even though I hate it, just for you tonight, dude.  See you soon!

Week 31 Update

Sick.  It's like I'm making up for all of the first trimester morning sickness I skipped out on in one weekend.  Blech.  The only way I feel ok is to be still.  Very still.  Which is working out today, since my office flooded over the weekend.  So, between bouts of extreme nausea, I'm trying to work from home since I literally have no office (apparently mine flooded the most - burst chiller pipe?), no computer (they're using mine to support the main university switchboard, which runs out of our office - yay HR!), and no files (they've been wheeled away somewhere to dry out).  Here's hoping tomorrow's better for everyone.  Also, here's hoping that I can get myself to birth preparation class tonight, even though it seems kinda lame.  K and I laughed through the breathing techniques because we're super mature (in spite of being probably the oldest couple there).

Fruit/veg update: bambino is now the size of four navel oranges, whatever that means.  All I know is that he's definitely growing, and so am I.  Like a second chin.   Boo.

Dear baby,

You know what's nice?  When I'm feeling all anxious or weepy or whatever it is that I feel these days and my face is most certainly all screwed up in some look of consternation, you'll jab me really hard or perform some other internal gymnastics or get the hiccups and I cannot help but stop in my tracks and smile.  Thanks!

Week 30 Update

OHMYGOD.  Week 30?  For reals?  Things have been getting checked off the list, though.  Pediatrician selected (mine from when I was a kid).  Birth preparation classes start on Tuesday night.  We picked up an ok enough changing table/dresser from Craigslist.  The registry is complete (you can search on thebump.com for me and send me anonymous gifts - that's totally cool).  Childcare arrangements are in the works.  From now through the end of month eight, I've got to go to the doc every two weeks.  Why?  I dunno.  But on Friday, I had to go in for my glucose screening.  Here's hoping I don't have gestational diabetes, which surely I do considering the amount of sugar I've consumed.  I'm super into fruit right now.  Grapes, melons, apples, strawberries, blueberries.  More!  I want more!  Now!  But it's snowing and I'm too lazy.  Right, so here's a fictional depiction of me and spawn when we learn we're diabetes free next week:

 

via 

In the meantime, I'm still feeling pretty good and am still not popping out like I'd thought I'd be by now, but lazier than usual, which is really freaking lazy.  K and I have managed nothing but extreme couch sitting and Netflix viewing this weekend.  We watched all of Californication (boobs much?) season one and all of Dexter season one.  I suppose we should be out busting a move, partying it up, livin' la vida loca pre-bambino, but we're just so tired from being lazy.

Aw

Look at Lacey.  She made a little bloggy blog for us and is organizing a shower!  She's only a medical student/rockstar, so I know she has tons of free time.  I don't know how she does it.  I come home from work and all I manage to do is put on some sweat pants while she whips up a blog and puts together a party.

It's A Bundle of Boy!

Week 29 Update

It's about that time.  The time to compare a (teeny, tiny) human with a vegetable.  Butternut squash to be exact.



Not so much to report aside from the fact that I think I had my first hormonal freak out over New Years, like uncontrollable sobbing accompanied by death stares and the silent treatment.  Marry me!  However, I've sincee returned to my senses (sort of/for now) and things seem to be cooking along just fine.  I went in last week for an appointment and have only gained one pound since my last.  I'm not sure how that's possible since my boobs alone surely weigh 10 million pounds.  Also, that brings my total weight gain to a whopping seven pounds since this all started.  Surely, something's going to give and I will balloon.  But, until then, I'll enjoy looking vaguely pregnant and feeling pretty good most of the time.  Being the little dude's landlord has been a piece of cake so far.  So far...

Week 28 Update

28 weeks down, which means only 12 weeks to go.  Allegedly.  And I need every second.  I've given myself till after January 1 to get my ass in gear.  There are baby rooms to decorate (e.g. a trip to Ikea since that's all I can afford), birthing preparation classes to attend, registries to finally complete, a shower to not ruin, pediatrician to select, birth plan to write, childcare to secure, hospital bag to pack, name to choose... oh my freaking God.  So. Much. So. Little. Time.

In the meantime, babble.com says the baby's the size of an eggplant this week.  This is perplexing, because, as you see, eggplants come in many, many sizes.  All I know is that at seven months (maybe?  still confused) I'm definitely crossing from the maybe she's just fat to 95% sure she's knocked up, although, I'm still only rocking a couple pair of maternity skinny jeans with extra elastic in the waist - no panel action yet.  The dreaded maternity pants with those lovely panels are probably right around the corner, though, but mostly because I've been gorging on holiday goodness for days now.  Awesome!

Week 27 Update

I'm thoroughly confused about what starting week 27 means.  Is the end of month six?  Am I already in month 7?  I've never been good at the math (except when I use it for my job, of course *wink*), but my doctor says one thing, the sonogram people say another, and then websites and books yet another.  So, I could be anywhere from five to eight months knocked up at any given time.  All I know is my due date is somewhere between March 21 and March 24.  Which probably actually means May 3.  Whatevs.  I'm certainly is no hurry, yet. 

However, recent developments that indicate I am in fact getting there include, but are not limited to: lower back pain that's actually more like in my butt ( I guess, just lower, lower spine), but only when I "exercise" (which means me hoofing it around the track at the Y with my mom trotting behind for 45 minutes a few times a week, not hardly enough to offset the pre-holiday cookie and fudge damage I'm doing), boob explosion - just when I think they can't get any bigger, bump explosion which has led me to actually pull on a pair of maternity jeggings (ahhhhh - sigh of comfort!) since my attempt at using the belly band thingy made me feel like my pants were a mere seconds away from dropping in public and I'm already paranoid enough, and I cried for no reason (not really, there was a reason, it's just hazy and I've essentially already forgotten it) for about three hours Saturday night. 

In a related story, K put together the crib his mother graciously purchased for us and I received the dinos from Anthro.  AND THAT'S ALL WE'VE GOT!  It's kind of like we think in addition to me giving birth to a human, I will also pop out a pack 'n' play, breast pump, boppy, bumbo, blankets, burps rags, diapers, clothing, baby tub, swing, bouncy chair, wipes, changing pad, changing table, bottles, rocker/glider, college tuition and all of the other million things we should, but don't have.  Oops.

The saddest thing in the whole world has happened.

UPDATE: Obviously, I've overcome this very brief problem.  I just eat like a horse and then feel sick. 

I am unable to eat like I used to.  I'm not a doctor, but I'm guessing that the kiddo and his accommodations are taking up enough space now to squash parts of my internal organs in a new way.  This includes my stomach, which means I cannot stuff it full with delicious foodstuffs as I am accustomed.  Now, mind you, I have been somewhat careful to watch what I eat for the last year or so resulting in about a stone and a half (I prefer to think of lbs this way, much nicer than their American equivalent) weight loss, so I don't go totally overboard, but I do like to hunker down and enjoy a honking helping of scrumptiousness sometimes.  But, no more.  Now, I'm going to have to consume sensibly, eating small meals 100 times a day.  BLAST!  But it'll totally be worth it, right?  RIGHT?

In a related story, because I turned into a beached whale in the booth at Charleston's during my attempt at dinner (baked potato and soup, you'd think I could handle that), I made K cut our date night short and take me home so I could slide into my lounge pants and beach on the couch.  We hooked our huge ass (42" is huge to us, normal to others) to Netflix and are basking in the wonder that is Air Guitar Nation.  Recommended if you're in the mood for a documentary, but can't quite handle child prostitution or the deterioration of the US economy or sad state of food in America