The Land of Milk and Poo

Shmedrest

So today on my first day of maternity leave I'm sitting at the computer sending out emails and all of a sudden I have this intense pain. I wasn't sure what it was. Thought maybe bathroom related but it didn't feel like that at all. But I went to the bathroom anyway and yelled my way through what felt like a really, really intense abdominal pain that lasted about 45 seconds. Walking did not make it feel better. Nothing made it feel better. It ended but my belly felt pummeled, as if I had just done forty thousand sit ups. Leaning forward hurt like hell, getting up from a sitting position hurt like hell. I emailed Random who frantically emailed back telling me to call my doctor pronto. I did, and they told me to come in. Feeling like a giagantic shmuck I did.

My doctor listened to me and explained that she didn't think it was a contraction because it hurt so much, but that anything was possible. She felt my belly and told me baby was either head down (which surprised me) or butt down, she couldn't tell. Heartrate was excellent. Then she checked my cervix and...lo and behold...it was too short.

So I'm on modified bedrest. Or something like it. I'm allowed to wake up, make breakfast, bring my daughter to school, go home and lie on the couch, make lunch, lie on the couch again, pick my daughter up, and lie back down. I'm not allowed to go to the store or do any shopping (which, um, SUCKS, because I have done very little prep for baby, and who the heck is going to buy the milk and juice we need every two days now????). I'm allowed to do an errand here and there, with no walking. (I guess that would be like getting gas.) My doctor, who is very mellow (the doulas at my hospital say she's actually a secret midwife with OB cred) is not one to call this lightly, so I'm feeling kind of FREAKED OUT RIGHT ABOUT NOW. She wants baby to cook for three more weeks at least, WHICH ALSO FREAKS ME OUT BECAUSE THREE WEEKS IS IN, LIKE, THREE MEASLY WEEKS.

I am not ready for ANY of this, people.

U/S on Thursday to measure me and baby. In the meantime, I need some thoughts here. I have a wedding this weekend that is a 5 hours drive away. Random and I were planning to go for the entire weekend with MP. He's the best man, so he's kind of required there. I was so eeked out at the doctor's that I forgot to ask about whether I'd be able to go or not. What do you think? I'm going to call doc tomorrow, but would you go? Do you think there's any chance in hell she'll let me go? Obviously if I did I'd be a wallflower and not dance or anything. (Of course, I spent four weekends looking for a dress and, of course, found a very cute one that I will now have to wear lying in bed, because of course, it's non returnable). 

ACK! And, SMFEORUEOGHOUERYTEUERERUI!

Also: modified bedrest tips and Fun Things To Do When You Are Confined To A Couch will also be appreciated.

Boobs and Poop

Boobs

I keep having these reallllllllly weird breastfeeding dreams. Some of you might remember that I have already dreamt that my boob was made out of chicken breading and that MP started nibbling at it and it fell apart.

Last night, I dreamt that I was trying to breastfeed the new baby, who, incidentally, I had left on a table wrapped up for a good 24 hours or so, forgetting completely about her. (In my dream I panicked, ran over to the table, grabbed her. She was, thankfully, okay, despite not having been fed for ages and ages.) I lifted up my shirt and my boob started squirting milk like a psycho sprinkler, dousing the baby's face. Every time I tried to bring her to my chest I basically drowned her. Finally I switched boobs and all of a sudden realized that my beloved baby had turned into a green gummy bear. I held the gummy bear to my chest but that wasn't going to work...then I dropped the gummy bear and was frantically searching for it in the swaddles of blankets covering the floor....

Random thinks I'm just nervous about breastfeeding, about not doing it right or something. Funny thing is, I've taken a class on it, read books about it, and feel pretty comfy about it in my waking life. It's just in my sleeping life that I seem to be a freak.

If you'd like to play armchair psychiatrist with me and interpret these weird bf dreams, please, be my guest.

Poop

In other news, MP is using the potty quite frequently. This morning she went poop for Random, and they announced it to me in stereo as I emerged from the bedroom puffy eyed and unrested (I'm a pregnant wreck right now, if you must know....36 years old going on 64). "It was a really big poop," Random told me in a semi-awed whisper. About an hour later, MP decided she had to go poop again. "Use the potty!" I chirped, not really paying attention. A second later she ran out of the bathroom half-naked and announced that she had pooped in the potty again. I went in to check, laughing, disbelieving (after all, she had already pooped; also, yesterday she told me she pooped four times and each time there was nada poop to be seen--that's called "The Girl Who Cried Poop" in our house). Anyway, there to greet me in her potty was one of the biggest poops I have ever laid eyes on. It was MAMMOTH. At least six inches. And FAT. I looked at her increduously.

"YOU did that?"

MP: Yeah! I did that! I pooped in the potty!

Me: Is that the old poop? Or did you just poop now?

MP: No, that's a NEW POOP!

Me: Holy moly. That's one giagundo poop. Hold on. I have to verify this.

Me: RANDOM! DID YOU ALREADY CLEAN UP THE FIRST POOP?

Random: YES! (Horrified I might consider he would leave such an item just, er, LYING AROUND). Why?

Me: Can you come down here for a minute?

Random comes down. Goes in bathroom. I hear a manly gasp.

Me: (To Random, as he walks out looking stricken and amazed) Okay, fess up. You did that, didn't you? To trick me? You pooped in her potty and left it there to freak me out, right?

Random: What the hell, you think I'd do that?!!!?!?!?

Me: Yes!!!! I think that you would do that over MP pooping that....that....MONSTER. Her butt's too little for something of that magnitude!

Random: That is ONE BIG MAN POOP. MP, that is a BIG POOP!

MP: I get TWO jellybeans now! I get two jellybeans! Daddy, you happy? I pooped in the potty!

Me: (Going into early labor on the floor, because I am laughing so hard)

Now we will hear about the poops all day long. Every time MP gets in trouble for, say, dumping Random's coffee all over the carpet, and we are attempting to discipline her, she will smile and say "But I pooped TWO TIMES in the potty! You happy!"

Yeah, kiddo. We are. 

I Equal Nice Hammock

I had an OB appt. two weeks ago and my OB uttered the following:

I just don't know how this baby is lying. *Palpates belly* Is her head here? I think it is. *Hands near right boob in infant head-shaped formation* Where do you feel the kicks?

ME: Left to right. Or down. None really up.

OB: We're going to have to do an ultrasound to find out how this baby is lying. And--how big she is.....*Leaves rest of sentence unsaid*

ME: *Whimpers* Okay. (I didn't want to ask how big she might be, because I've already been told "we're not going past 40 weeks because we don't want you to have a 12 pound baby!" I don't want to get myself freaked before we know anything. Right?)

So I scheduled the ultrasound. It's May 1.

Last night I went to a "Meet the Doula" gathering, where me and another couple gainfully peppered three doulas with our birthing questions. At first glance I thought the pregnant woman next to me (very tiny, adorable belly with arodable popped out belly button) was farther along than I am because she appeared bigger than I do. I asked when she was due and she told me July. I then went to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror--it has become one of those "Who is that woman? She's HUGE! Oh, she's me. Ack" things around here in the past two weeks, where I realized that I am about four times her size and just still think of myself as smaller. That picture I posted below makes me laugh nervously now. It was already from two or three weeks old when I posted it, and so it's now about five or six weeks old, and damn---------------things are getting a bit large-ish around here. Anyway, I digress.

So one of the doulas, who I had for a childbirth class (where we learned that Lamaze is, essentially, "four pants and a blow," which never ceases to send me into a fit of immature giggles) remembered me and pointed out to the other doulas that my OB thinks I'm breech or transverse. I confirmed that, yes, Rocky is not liking the "regular, ready for labor" position of head down (I suspect it's that upside down thing--I mean I don't like being upside down either) and hasn't much shifted from either feet down or feet across, as far as I can tell from the bruising she's giving my insides.

One of the doulas studied me closely. "Well, in terms of size, you are very............."

I waited. Would she say "small"? People have commented on how nicely I'm carrying. Or would she say "huge"? People have also said I look big. The only things I have to give me clues to my relative size are the amount of weight I've gained and the way other pregnant people look. Recently, everyone has commented on my pregnant self. Strangers, neighbors, the mailman--anyone who sees my belly says, "oh, a baby! When's it due?" So it's obvious now. But the woman next to me was small and cute and obviously pregnant, so that wasn't a good marker.

Back to the doula. "Well, in terms of size, you are very...................."

I leaned back a bit for support. "Big," she finished. "Alllllll baby." The other doulas nodded. She got up and came over to me, putting her hands on my belly. "Your baby is lying left to right," she said. "Transverse."

"There's still time to move, right?" I asked, trying not to let the panic set in. I had read that there was still time to move. The doulas know I want to try to have a drug-free birth complete with birthing ball and mid-laboring-shower (QUIT YOUR LAUGHING, RIGHT NOW). If Rocky doesn't move in the next few weeks, I might be staring a C-section in the face.

"Yes, sure," one of them said. "But----you look like you could have a really big baby."

I smiled. Weakly. Yes, I told her. That has been mentioned once or twice.

Ah well. 32 weeks and, according to Random, Rocky just likes to veg out in the uterine hammock I've got working here. Send me head-down vibes, please.

Stuffonmypregnantmom.com

According to MP, Babysister was hungry. So MP put a plate of pepperoni, mushroom, and green pepper <--slices on my belly. With a fork justincase. This was after she put her juice cup in my belly button because baby wanted a bottle and dripped juice into the small dent that remains.

Gaze upon the other plate of goodies MP placed--> precariously on my lap--this crashed two seconds after this picture was taken, scattering fake food everywhere. Note the crossed utensils at the crotch area. That was not done by an adult; that was orchestrated by my urchin daughter, seen running to get more utensils off to the left. Um, X marks the spot?

(Also note that half of our "entertainment center" is, in fact, a toy emporium. And you can also just glimpse the bottom of my gorgeous lampshades, which make me happy whenever I see them.)

<--Um, okay, for some reason I really don't look all that humongo here, but trust me, if most people were to stand next to me they would look like the picture below:

Tell Me How Much Weight You Gained (and only tell me if it was a lot. Sniff.)

I will be 30 weeks on Wednesday. (AcK! SpuTteR! GaSp!)

I have gained 34 pounds.

I am a giant, stretched out, itchy ham.

(Coming up: A picture! So you can all see my Ham-ness! Oh, joy! *Jigging on my trotters*)