Who knew labour and birth could be so much 'fun'?

It has been four weeks since we welcomed our little one into the world on May 9th, 2008. She burst into the world at 6:36 pm, weighing a healthy (my hubby's word, I say 'chubby') 9lbs 5oz. Life has been a bit of a blur since then. Actually, that is the BIGGEST understatement ever made.

So, inquiring minds want to know...how was my labour? I had thought before giving birth that I would be serious and write an eloquent and beautiful birth story. Well...that just isn't me and in all honesty the birthing process was, um, not all together pleasant. For a very lovely story about my labour, please refer to my doula's blog, re: Colours of Birth: http://www.sauciness.blogspot.com/ She has written about it in such a positive way, that every time I read it I am brought to tears. Tears of joy, honestly.

When I have flashbacks about the ACTUAL process....then I have tears of a different kind. I'll try not to be too graphic, which isn't really my true nature, but I have friends who are pregnant and I don't want to frighten them too much. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm blunt and candid, deal with it!

The birthing process was the EXACT OPPOSITE of everything that I indicated I wanted in my birth plan. It made me think of all of the theory classes that I have taken in Education. IN THEORY, certain things sound good, but in practice it never works like that.

I was adamant that I did not want an epidural. I was a warrior princess and I would laugh in the face of pain. In reality, after seven hours of intense contractions that were one on top of each other, and a damn cervix that was stuck at 5 cm, I finally asked for the stupid epidural. My hubby tried to convince me otherwise, but I was not going to be denied. We tried the gas mask first, which made me feel like I was going to hyperventilate and barf all at the same time. I all but threw it at the nurse the third time it was offered to me. The thought of relief from an epidural was the only thing that would console me. (each contraction at this point felt like someone was taking a sledge hammer and slamming it against my back)

Getting the epidural was a bit scary. I'm not a fan of having large needles stuck into my back. Nor was I a fan of being told not to move while having it done. Easier for the anesthesiologist to say - he wasn't the one being hit with a contraction every two minutes.

The pain relief from the epidural was divine. I loved every minute of it! I could talk! I could laugh! I could crack jokes! (I apparently informed everyone in the room that I could still feel the contractions but they weren't too painful - just felt like I needed to take a big cra* - charming, I know)

And then the doctor came and broke my water (I was stuck at 5cm still, even two hours after having been given the epidural) and all hell broke loose.

Sigh. Once my water was broken the epidural decided it didn't want to play anymore. It took a permanent vacation. I was beyond unimpressed. I hadn't wanted an epidural in the first place, I finally asked for one, and the damn thing only lasted for two hours. I don't know why, but it just stopped working. Pain resumed, on a much more intense level. I believe I asked anyone who would listen to 'just pull her out!' What can I say? I no longer think that pain is a right of passage to be endured during labour. Pain sucks the big one. The pain fairy was kicking my a**.

After my water was broken (it really did feel like I peed myself...a lot...), it only took about an hour to go from 5 to 8 cm. Intense stuff. That may explain why I no longer felt the epidural.

I had also said I wouldn't take any narcotics. The first time it was offered, I said no. Later on I was told it was time to start pushing, would I like to try fentanol? (a narcotic). I said YES.

The funny thing is (I can say funny now, not so funny at the time...), I had no urge or desire to push once I was told to start pushing. Zip, zilch, nothing. A bar was propped over the bed with a towel attached to it. I had to pull myself up on the towel with every contraction, and push. My hubby counted for three sets of ten. Then four sets of ten. My doula kept my head cool, and tried to keep me calm. (which was not a small feat at this point - I REALLY did not want to push). This went on for about an hour. At some point I think the narcotic must have kicked in, because in between contractions I all but fell back on the bed and slept/passed out/went into some weird funky trance like zone....

Then I felt the urge to push, and it must have been one damn good push because she was just about out, and then...the nurse told me to STOP PUSHING. The f-sharps came out on parade at this point, as did my temper. I started yelling that my baby girl was coming and that I did NOT want to stop pushing. They paged my doctor (yes, I actually had my doctor who was on call that day), who came a few minutes later. She had been absent for the entire pushing process and showed up for the last few pushes. She came and got set up and I was permitted to continue pushing. Second push after my doctor arrived and she had the scissors out for the most unkindest and unexpected of cuts. I screamed at the top of my lungs and I believe it was another push and my little one was born.

And then the pain just stopped. Other women had told me that the pain would stop as soon as the baby was born, but I hadn't fully believed them. But it was so true and such a HUGE RELIEF. That was the first emotion I felt upon delivering my daughter.

The second was shock. I had thought that I would cry, but I was a bit too stunned that she was actually out to feel anything beyond bewilderment. I had reached down to pull her onto my chest and the first thing I thought was 'she feels really oily.' And heavy. My doctor said she was a big one...and the second shock of the day was when they told me she was 9lbs 50z. What??? How??? Are you sure??? Then she was whisked away to be attended to by the nurses. She had a lot of mucous in her little lungs and they were trying to suction it out. One my end of things all I heard was her gasping which instantly sent me into worry mode and I kept asking my doula if my 'little' one was okay. I was told not to worry, the mucous was normal, and her daddy was with her holding her hands. (while all this was going on I was getting stitched up, which I was trying not to ignore. I'd had enough at this point of feeling like a science experiment...I found out at this point as well that I had been given the episiotomy because I had started to tear quite badly. GREAT.) She was finally given back to me and she breastfed like a trooper, about 20 minutes after she was born.

There is so much more that I could write. This kind of feels like the 'coles notes' version. My goals for the next week is to write about how my life has changed in the past four weeks, and how my little one is already changing. (I'd honestly like to stop time for awhile...it's too soon for her to be changing already!)

In spite of all of the pain and things not going how I thought they would, I wouldn't trade my life right now for anything. Being a mom is indescribable. The way my daughter looks at me...it catches my breath. She is so precious and I love her more than I ever thought possible.

But I absolutely DO NOT love it when she poops out of her diaper so much that it fills my belly button...that's a story for another day...

Three days overdue, bobble-heads, and cranky monkeys

Waiting really sucks. I'm not good at waiting on the best of days. For anything. This is THE most important thing I've ever had to wait for, and let's just say it's making me REALLY sucky. The continuous pain is adding to the 'suck-factor' as well. Something always seems to hurt. Yes, I'm pathetic. Yes, you SHOULD feel sorry for me. Yes, I would like to go cry to my mommy... My hubby discovered a few days ago just how sensitive and cranky I am right now. After spending an hour cooking dinner, with my back aching, he had the nerve to inform me that he didn't want to eat because he wasn't hungry. The pot of noodles almost went flying across the room in the direction of his head...Much crying ensued (even at this late stage in the game, hormones are running rampant) and he knows NEVER to say again 'I'm not hungry' after his wife has slaved over his dinner. Well, he can say it again but then I'll boycott cooking dinner from here to all eternity...

The continuous weight gain is driving me a bit batty as well. Until this baby comes out, I fear it will never stop! How much weight gain, you ask? Humpf. I'm not sharing. No way, no how. Let's just say it's A LOT, and as far as I'm concerned it's not a very 'nifty' number. Nor was it very nifty when the hubby and I went for breakfast this morning and I almost didn't fit between the seat and the table. (both were fixed to the floor and could not be adjusted) My belly was pressed right up against the table. Yup. That was a pretty picture. My self-esteem is not having a very great week...

In the past week, I've had two doctor's appointments. Last week there was not much hope. She figured I'd be in for the LONG haul. Swell. Just what every fat pregnant woman wants to hear. My hubby commented after last week's appointment that he thinks my doctor has 'magic' hands, because after only a few seconds of 'kneading' my belly she can tell which way the baby is positioned. Yes, she's a bloody miracle worker. If she was so great she'd have caused me to deliver by now! Sigh. Don't mind me. I told you waiting has made me quite cranky. Okay, I'm actually a bit crotchety because of her instructions at today's appointment. Double sigh. (Mom and mom-in-law, just skip to the next paragraph, okay? The next couple of lines contain graphic content that are not meant for either of our parents to read. Ever. I mean it!) After 'stirring' things up a bit (highly uncomfortable but not as bad as the internal exam from two weeks ago), she told us what else we could do to get labour moving along. Now, it's not so much that I was oblivious to the instructions she was about to give us (a number of other people have given the same advice), it was the AMOUNT that she 'prescribed.'
Dr: "You can try Castor oil, but it will give you diarrhea which will increase the prostaglandins in your body. This helps to dilate your cervix. Or you can have sex. THREE TIMES TODAY SHOULD DO THE TRICK."
Me: (really no words could be said. My mouth hangs open...)
Hubby: (HUGE grin on his face) "Doc, you've just made my day!"
Me: (still no words.)

Moving right along. At least I hope things are... I received an email this past week, indicating that unless I submitted an assignment for one of my courses (that quite honestly was so damn long and tedious I thought I'd just NOT do it. There really was no time to do it during my practicum, which is when it was due.), I'd receive a failing grade. I was a bit surprised as the assignment was only worth about 25% and I thought I'd still pass the course even if I didn't do it, because I did well on my other assignments. Apparently not. APPARENTLY, in education if even ONE assignment is not turned in, you receive a failing grade. Bloody hell. My instructor waited until three days before my due date to inform me of this. This led to a minor meltdown/hissy-fit as I realized that I'd have to get the damn thing done. And fast. Or so I thought, when I was still thinking that I wasn't going to make it to my due date. (funny how deluded I was...) I'm pleased to report that I finished it yesterday. Yippee! It was a really flaky/ridiculous assignment. It was for my art and drama course and I had to answer a set of questions that I felt were rather pointless. It also involved drawing, which I'm normally not adverse to. I did skip one question though. The question instructed me to go and 'play' with someone, and then draw the experience. (I don't think my instructor would have liked me to sketch the kind of 'playing' I've been doing lately...) I was then asked to write about this experience, and to describe whether or not I was 'in the zone'? Come on! I'm pretty sure I'm not the only student who skipped this question.

The baby's room is almost complete. We're cutting it close, I know. Oh well. The furniture was all set up and in place, but now it's dismantled and strewn around our living room. No, I didn't get angry and display super-human strength..., my hubby is painting the baby's room. It has turned out to be a bigger pain than we had expected. Actually, I'm not quite sure WHY we expected it would be a smooth process, as it NEVER is when we paint a room. Something always pops up. Our house is bloody old and the former owners used an oil-based paint, which is a royal pain to paint over. You have to buy special primer because otherwise any new paint put on will chip off. Last week I finally scraped off the wallpaper, which is never any fun. People who put up wallpaper should be shot. I'll never, ever, put wallpaper up in any house I live in. Even when I'm a little old granny and want to surround myself with images of flowers. But I digress. We were going to use a pail of paint that I had bought almost two years ago, when the room was supposed to be an office for me and thoughts of babies were just that, thoughts. Well, we tested a corner (which is when we, I mean my hubby, discovered that we had to prime the walls) and decided that we weren't quite sure about the colour. It looked kind of like a shade of caramel/brown. Not very babyish. So yesterday we picked out a new colour which I INSIST is green, kind of like sea foam. My hubby is adamant that it is blue. I think he is colour-blind. He thinks I'M colour blind. One of us is, and I'm pretty sure it's not me.

Wow. Who knew I could write that much about painting a room? What the hell? When did I get old and start talking about painting? I went to a friend's house yesterday, and house renovations and discussions of babies consumed a large part of our conversation. (I tried to limit the amount I talked about baby-related issues, but her sister is pregnant and her sister-in-law just had a baby so it was hard to avoid! Not my fault!) We were both slightly aghast. Our conversations used to revolve around who did what (or whom...) at the previous night's party, while nursing a cup of coffee. Coffee is still central to our chats, but the level of gossip seems to be subsiding. Sigh. Mademoiselle K, the worst has happened. We're grown-ups now. GASP.

The thought that I'm now a grown-up is slightly depressing. But I guess becoming a mom tends to do that to people? The grown-up part, not the becoming depressed part... (although some people might make an argument in favour of the latter...). I'm going to have to be all responsible and crap. Ick. However, there are ways to become a responsible, barf, adult, while still retaining some part of my former goofy self. I refuse to release my inner-child. She's here to stay. Plus I need her for when I teach, she helps me to relate to my students. (you said 'poop!' hahaha) A few days ago my inner-child burst out and started doing bobble-head impersonations. My extra, um, girth, works really well with this! I started to waggle my head back and forth and looked at my hubby and said 'I'm a bobble-head'. Giggling ensued on both our parts. I've still got it damn it! My daughter will be thoroughly amused, I just know it....

She is still quite active in my belly. I keep telling her that if she is feeling squished then she should just head on out. She's already ignoring me...

Hopefully my next post will be postpartum, when I'm wide awake and continue to have mountains of free-time, nursing and typing at the same time. Hahahahaha.....

Four more days. Delivering early WAS wishful thinking....

This past week time has stood still. I know I should be enjoying the time off to 'relax,' at least that is what everyone tells me (by the way, the word relax is my LEAST favourite word EVER. Typically speaking, if I'm told to relax, my reaction is usually just the opposite). But to be quite honest....I've been just a little bit bored. I haven't really known what to do with myself. No assignments due, no schedule to follow, no students around to ask inane questions...I know, I know. It sounds ideal, right? Wrong. I can handle a few days of 'nothingness,' but after, shudder, 'relaxing' all I'm left to do is wait and think. And listen to my hubby snore in his chair when he's supposed to be reading... Oh, and watch TLC's 'The Baby Story.' That tends to get repetitive though, and I find myself talking to the parents on the TV ('bumper pads in the crib? Don't you know that's verboten now? Your baby could suffocate!) in an effort to entertain myself. [SIDE NOTE: the baby story is on right now and the woman's doula is in her face, holding her chin, telling her to go 'ha ha hoooo'. That looks BEYOND irritating. a) get the hell out of my face is what I would think, and b) does 'ha ha hooo' really sound like a natural noise to make? It sounds more like something you'd say at Halloween. As in 'ha ha whoooo, is that knocking at my door?']

If I was more mobile, perhaps this past week wouldn't have felt so long? (and if I'm overdue I WILL turn into a screaming banshee) As it is, I literally have to roll myself off the couch. Visualize that. It's all very stealthy. Roll onto side, swing legs one at a time onto floor. Push self up and get mentally prepared to haul myself off the oh so very low, old, granny couch. It's quite a slow process. I was informed yesterday, as I sat on the edge of the couch with my legs wide open and my belly hanging between them (yup, can't remember the last time I could actually close my legs properly - I'm such a lady), that I rather resembled a SUMO WRESTLER. Thanks honey. You're such a dear.

I have read many books, etc, about being pregnant (some may say I've read TOO much), and almost all of the literature indicates that in the last few weeks leading up to birth less fetal movement will be felt, because there is less room for the baby to move. Who are they kidding? Does that really sound like a logical argument? I'm feeling MORE movements then ever before, and I think it is PRECISELY because there is less room that I now feel EVERYTHING, all, day, long. This is good though, because I'm supposed to 'count' how many movements she has in an hour or during a 12 hour period. It should be about three movements in three hours. Right. I've stopped counting. I tried to count once and then I lost track. It's more like 30 movements in an hour. Especially if she has hiccups, or if I can see/feel her heart beating. (super neat!) My doctor said there is no such thing as a baby that is TOO active in the womb, but I wonder if it's possible that I have the most energetic baby yet to be born. I think the hubby and I are going to have some very INTERESTING days ahead of us. ('honey, it's your turn to chase her around the block...')

As I mentioned, being at home without much to do has given me A LOT of time to think. I keep thinking about what the future will bring, and what I've missed while being pregnant. (and inevitably, at least ten times a day, I am fixated with thoughts of just how painful labour will feel. ugh. Please have a small head, little one. Because I look over at your daddy's head and I cringe.) Right. Focus. (crap. pain. hopefully not both at the same time...) Okay, things that I've missed about not being pregnant: alcohol (this list is NOT in any sort of order. Just so you know...alcohol is just ONE of the things I miss, NOT the #1 thing I miss. Honestly.), long walks, sleeping (on my back), breathing normally (supposedly I snore now. I think my hubby is a liar), seeing my feet, ab muscles (I think I used to have them). Having days without hip/back/leg/stomach/joint pain.

I've also thought about things I want my daughter to know about me:

• I like to sing. A lot. But I don't know the words to most songs that I attempt to belt out. She'll probably hate me for it at some point.
  
• I'm insanely stubborn. God help her if she tries to argue with me. (or lie - I have ways of knowing...muhaha. eerie sixth sense. Right honey? Damn facial tics, hey?)
  
• Sometimes I can cook and bake, sometimes I can't. It either turns out really well or it burns. I also like to experiment with different ingredients, much to my hubby's disgust. (tuna is a good healthy ingredient in pasta sauce, and trust me, you can't really even taste it!)
  
• I hate cleaning, but I plan to teach her to love it. Not sure how I'm going to do that... And no dear, I don't think that yelling and saying that she is a slob will really teach her anything. Trust me. (Sweet pea, your daddy is a neat freak. Don't worry, we'll deal with him together...)
  
• I'm not comfortable with being touched/hugging/affection, etc., but I plan to hug her a lot and tell her that I love her everyday. I hope. I mean, I WILL. Even if she's pukey and covered in poop.
  
• Speaking of poop, she'll realize that I talk quite openly about it. She'll probably hate me for that too....This will lead to her discovery that I can be very blunt and not too many topics are off limits for me. She'll either appreciate this or be mortified by it (her daddy is usually annoyed by it). Only time will tell.

"Time keeps on ticking, ticking, into the future..." Couldn't it tick just a little bit faster? (but then slow down again once she is born...)

False alarms, peacocks and getting sick again...

I discovered this past week, that when I look down at my blooming belly (blooming sounds so much nicer than monstrous) my belly button rather resembles a nose. It's a rather cute button nose, but only when viewed from my perspective. Looking at it dead-on in the mirror...eeewww. It has completely turned inside out, and I think that belly buttons should NEVER do that. I can only shudder to think of what it will look like once there is no longer a baby pushing it out. Then it will be all loose. Double eeww.

I also finished my education practicum this past week. It was a relatively 'short' week, as there was only three days of actual classes. One day was reserved for a field trip and another day was for parent-teacher interviews. The field trip can otherwise be known as the DAY OF HELL. We went on a trip to the Children's Museum, which would be fine if my supervising teacher hadn't shown up with a chip on her shoulder and a lazy attitude. She pretty much did nothing all day to supervise the students, which left me in charge of them. Thanks kindly. I had also been misinformed that there would be places to sit at the museum. Well, okay, I could have sat if I didn't feel like keeping track of the students and not letting them be crazy and run rampant and generally drive everyone nuts...At the end of the day when we returned to the school, I ended up having to stay later than my supervising teacher so that I could download all of the pictures that were taken on the field trip. She couldn't do it because she is computer illiterate. Charming. Before she left she asked me if I had fun. Are you bloody kidding me? FUN? What part of that was fun? Oh, the fun part must have been standing for pretty much four hours straight with a big nine month pregnant belly...If that's what we're calling fun these days then I had a blast!

All of my walking around must have lulled the little one to sleep all day. She didn't move much during the field trip, which had me mildly worried. Yup, no need to worry there. After I got home I slept for two hours and when I got up she moved for the next four hours STRAIGHT. Not a word of a lie. This little monkey has an abundance of energy. She also entertains herself by kicking me in the ribs, and I think she may be the next Mia Hamm. Damn strong legs for someone who isn't even born yet.

Sigh. For all of my complaining about my practicum, I will miss my students a fair bit. Even the ones who tell me on the field trip that they have to poop and I have to stand outside of the bathroom for ten minutes listening to them grunt it out...And then come out and tell me that their pants feel looser. I'll miss the honesty! I'll miss helping them solve their problems. I didn't realize how much I said 'how can we solve this problem,' when they told me so-and-so was bugging them, until a student wrote in a thank you card: 'thank you for helping us solve our problems.' Funny stuff. Or the student who was annoyed with his speech language pathologist's efforts to get him to clap out the syllables in his name. She kept asking for his middle name, and he finally got frustrated and told her it was 'Chow Mein.' She inserted it between his first and last name and clapped it out for him... How can I not miss all of that? It will be more than a year before I'll be back in the classroom, which makes me kind of sad. But then, I guess I'll have the time in between to go through new humorous incidents with my wee little one. I expect there will be more than a few! (Like the first time that the little one poops on her daddy...that will have me laughing for days because I can already see the look of terror on his face...muhahah)

We also had a bit of a false alarm this past week. I thought that my water may have broken on Saturday. I called my Dr.'s office and was told to come down to the hospital. This whole damn Group B Strep thing changes everything, because if my water does break then I have to go straight to the hospital. It turns out it wasn't my water that broke, (really, how was I supposed to know? Some books describe it as a 'gush' others describe it as a 'trickle.') but rather my lovely mucous plug that decided to travel south. (yum, such a lovely visual...) It took FOUR HOURS to determine that that's what it was.

There were a few other minor irritations that occurred during those four hours as well. (come now, you didn't think I'd go through something like that and NOT find something irritating, did you?) At my birthing class they had told us to put the hospital gown on backwards because it would be more comfortable and your butt wouldn't hang out the back. So, that's what I did. Only to have the nurse come along and take it off of me to put it on the 'correct' way, with the ties in the back and my butt hanging out...She informed me I'd be less exposed that way. I'm sorry, but you've just stripped me, my butt isn't covered and I'm supposed to feel better now? Not likely. Learning lesson for the 'real' event - I'll be putting on my own gown as soon as I can. And then probably taking it off, but that's a story for another day... The other thing that happened while we were waiting (I don't want to call this one irritating because then I might sound like a bad person...but it was pretty icky...), was that a women came in who was obviously in very intense labour. (I should back-track a moment and say that we were in triage, which meant that there were about five of us within close proximity to one another, and the beds were just separated by thin curtains...) The woman who came in started to vomit everywhere. As my hubby described it, 'it sounded like she was hurling from the bottom of her toes.' If I wasn't worried/scared enough at that point, well that did me in. I looked at my hubby and said 'I'd like to go home now!' Unfortunately we still had another two hours of waiting at that point...

After the rather unpleasant internal exam, we were sent to the waiting room to be cleared by the doctor. I was informed by the same charming nurse that changed my hospital gown, that someone else needed the room more than I did. Thank you kindly for that. In my head (which my hubby will tell you has often been infiltrated with crazy/abnormal thoughts) I heard, 'you shouldn't have wasted our time with your petty concern, nothing is wrong with you...' So we sat in the waiting room for about another hour, during which time a peacock appeared. 'Peacock' is my new term for very arrogant fathers who strut about and are rude and look down upon everyone in their path. This peacock came in with his hands on his hips and barked at another couple in the room who were watching a hockey game on the T.V., 'what's the score?' They gave it and he didn't even bother to say thank you or anything. Nope, he and his splayed feathers swaggered back out of the room... My first peacock sighting came last week at my Dr.'s appointment. Peacock number one strutted into the doctor's office while his wife checked in. He too had his hands on his hips, feathers splayed for all women in the room to gawk at and admire. He appeared to be walking up and down a cat-walk, and made some fantastic turns, spreading his scent across the room. It was truly a sight to see, and one that had me in fits of giggles, and not fainting with pleasure...

And now that I FINALLY have some time to get things in order before our wiggle worm comes into our life, I have a sore throat! I blame my sister. Really, it's all her fault. (but then it's fun to blame her for everything -haha) My mom and my sister came over yesterday to help put the munchkin's room in order (it was more my mom -thank you!- than my sister, but sis did a good job of looking after my dog) All day, Squirt (that'd be my sister) complained of having a sore throat. What do I now have? I have the feeling of glass shards running through my throat every time I swallow... Evil sister...

12 more days until I'm due...haha...not sure that I'm going to make it...

Will I make it another 21 days?

This past week was absolutely EXHAUSTING, and filled with many 'eventful' things:

Event 1: I tested positive for Group B Strep. I learned about this on Wednesday at my doctor's appointment and then had to go to my school and teach a lesson about writing a fairy tale. I was extremely distracted while teaching. Why, you may ask? Group B Strep isn't a huge deal, and is apparently quite common in many women. It's a type of bacteria that comes and goes in everyone. Right now it is trespassing through my body. I was dismayed to learn that I have it, because it means I will have to be hooked up to an IV to receive antibiotics to treat it during labour. I was hoping to avoid being hooked up to anything, because I want to be as mobile as possible (at least, I say that now...). Luckily, my birthing instructor told me to ask about a type of IV that is 'detachable' after the antibiotics have been administered, so that I don't have to be stuck carting an IV pole around. Unfortunately, if my water breaks before I get to the hospital and the antibiotic treatment begins, my labour will be considered high risk...that is the part that I am really having trouble with. It will be considered high risk because I may not be able to receive enough antibiotics before delivering our wee little one. Having Group B Strep also means that my minimum hospital stay will be 48 hours, and our munchkin will have to be closely monitored to make sure that the antibiotics worked and the bacteria does not pass on to her. Something that is so 'common' sure does make me worry a lot...

Event 2: On a happier note, she turned this past week and is now head down and getting ready to make her grand entrance into the world. She now kicks me in the ribs on a daily basis, and tickles my bladder (thanks sweety, peeing my pants is one more thing I may soon add to my list of pregnancy woes.). She feels HUGE and her movements are extremely visible (I guessed that she'll be about 8lbs, and my doctor estimated the same weight...we'll have to see if this proves true!). I feel a bit self-conscious about the fact that my belly often looks like it is 'rippling,' but so far no one has noticed while I've been teaching. It could be because I automatically put my hand over my belly when it happens...I think I should win an award for my amazing ability to focus on teaching while it feels like she is trying to break out of the confines of my belly.

Event 3: My hubby shaved my legs for me! I was apparently resembling a 'hairy beast'. That's what happens when you can't reach anything below your knees... I'd like to say that he shaved my legs because he felt like being nice to me, but he actually doesn't want anyone at the hospital to think that his wife is a slob. Thanks luv.

Event 4: I'm having fairly regular Braxton Hicks contractions, which makes me think I'm not going to make it until my due date. (this could just be wishful thinking though...) When I told my doctor last week that I still had two and a half weeks left in my practicum, she told me to sit and cross my legs while teaching... Such positive encouragement! This past weekend I thought that labour may actually be beginning, but it was just really strong 'practice' contractions. These so-called 'practice' contractions are rather uncomfortable... and they are supposed to be a walk in the park compared to the real thing. I'd like to pass 'go' and collect $200 please. I think that I would like my hubby to go through labour. I've gone through nine months of pregnancy, it seems only fair that he should take a turn and actually squirt our little one out. Fair trade, no?

Event 5: We finished our Birthing From Within Class. My hubby was a pretty good sport about it, even though he didn't really see the point of many things in the class. (like drawing and sculpting birth art - my art and drama instructor would be proud!) We watched a short video montage of various women giving birth, with the Creed song "With Arms Wide Open" playing along. Thirty seconds in and I was an emotional mess. I kept having to look away so that I didn't start bawling so hard that I'd hyperventilate (not that I've EVER done that). In all honesty I shouldn't have felt too red in the face about my tears considering one of the fathers started gagging when the first slippery little baby head appeared on the screen.... The second video we watched was almost as good. But not quite. It was called 'The Elk and the Epidural', and it was in 'cartoon' form so that the epidural description would be less traumatic for women that fear the big needle. I found it hard to relate to, as did my husband who had to leave the room because he was giggling so hard that his whole body was practically convulsing. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed during the video session: the wife of the gagger or the wife of the giggler...

Later on during a visualization exercise where we had to think about how we'd cope with something not going according to plan during labour, I once again got all flustered and teary-eyed. Damn hormones. I actually had tears running down my cheeks. I think it is because I am so close to the actual day where we get to meet our little one, that I can't help but get emotional at the thought of FINALLY meeting her. Either that or I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. The one part of the class that I didn't get choked up about, was when the mothers had to sit in a circle and emit birthing noises while focusing on our pain-coping strategies. Right. You want me to make WHAT kinds of noises in a room full of strangers? I tried. Really. But moaning in a circle with a bunch of strangers is a bit, um, I don't know, bizarre? (THANK GOD our instructor didn't mention until later on that birth noises often sound like the same noises made when the baby was conceived...) Kudos to our doula for having no fear and trying to get us to join in. I just couldn't do it.

The absolute BEST part of the class (well, okay, not THE BEST part, but it was pretty enjoyable), was having my hubby give me a foot rub at the end of the class, using some kind of nice scented oil. He tried to refuse. I can't really blame him for not wanting to rub my feet at the end of the class. I'd had sneakers on all day - I wouldn't want to touch my feet either... but he's a sweety and there really wasn't much he could say once my bottom lip started to quiver. Resistance is futile...

Event 6: Last thing to mention actually came about today: I will be finishing my practicum THIS Friday, one week earlier than expected. I had put in extra time in January and February in the event that I didn't make it to my due date, and I'm going to now take advantage of that 'banked' time (haha, banked - if only I actually got paid to be there). To be quite honest, I don't have the energy to last until the end. By 3:30 last Friday, I was so drained from the week that when my students were talking to me, all I heard was the Charlie Brown 'teacher' voice coming from them. You know, that 'whan whan whan' sound. It is also becoming more and more painful to sit in wee-little plastic chairs, especially considering, um, recent additions to my lovely physique. I'm also getting very tired of everyone at school saying 'You are SO BIG.' Bloody well sod off and leave me alone. My body is not up for public discussion. I should get THAT printed on a t-shirt... I'll miss my students, but not necessarily my supervisor. There is no other way to say it: she is a slave-driver and I am her queen slave. I've had enough. I've done more than what is expected of a student teacher. I've done my time! Yippee!

Now what the hell am I going to do with myself next week if I don't deliver by then? Free-time...huh. What a NOVEL concept. (the hubby's response is that I should stay out of his hair. Such a dear.)

Less than a month...

Okay, deep breath. This has not been a good week, physically speaking. I thought it couldn't get any worse than sore hips, constant backache and multiplying stretch marks. I was PHENOMENALLY wrong. It got worse. Part of me is really embarrassed to write about it, but part of me can't help it. I need to share the horror of IT. Much to my hubby's chagrin, I am OBSESSED with talking about IT. Oh, and crying about IT (had a good little sob before trudging off to school this morning). There have been a few moans as well.

What is 'IT'???

IT, starts with an H and rhymes with 'roids'. IT, is a star in 'The Grapes of Wrath.' IT, is literally a royal pain in the a**. IT, is a hitchhiker that has been hired to kill me, slowly and painfully. IT, needs to go bother someone else... I HATE IT.

Not only has IT decided to stick around and make my life hell - I also had THE MOST embarrassing experience at my doctor's office this past week. For those of you whom I've already complained to about this, my apologies, this will be a bit repetitive. I am THAT scarred by it, that I can't help but keep repeating myself. I met with a different doctor on Wednesday for my appointment. REALLY hope she isn't the one who delivers our baby. I did NOT like her. It's the first time I met her, and she didn't even bother to introduce herself. I had the Strep B test done by her, and I felt humiliated afterwards. I was instructed to just pull my pants down around my ankles for her to do the oh so pleasant swab. No gown, no cover, nothing. She then told me to pull up my pants, to which I replied that it was easier said than done (still on my back at this point and quite honestly, haven't been able to reach my swollen ankles in weeks). Her wonderful response, while LAUGHING? "Oh, I guess I've left you in a pretty vulnerable position, haven't I?" AND she didn't even bother to help me up as I struggled to sit up. Entirely unpleasant. I told my hubby that next time I am seriously going to consider having a midwife instead. (rather, I'm convinced, it's just a matter of convincing him)

We had our first birthing class yesterday (which we were a few minutes late to, because someone decided I should be in charge of knowing where it was. Seriously - I'm nine months pregnant, did YOU really expect me to remember to write down the address?). Having a condensed session is not necessarily the best idea. The class are usually spread out over a number of weeks, and are usually only for a couple of hours a night. I enjoyed the class, but the only reason I think it would have been better on a week night is because of the aforementioned, no good, horrible, hitchhiker. Sitting for most of the day while suffering with my new sidekick was probably not such a good idea. Unpleasantness aside, I did learn a few things to help me cope with the upcoming labour pain. The class facilitator gave us an ice cube to hold on to, the idea being to see how we would cope with the pain (say, instead of asking us to slice our palms open and see how that feels...) . At first it WAS extremely painful to hang on to the ice cube, even with my sweaty palms (but damn, was I good at melting it...) However, we were then taught how to focus on seeing, hearing, touching and breathing, and before I knew it I didn't even realize that I had ice in my hand. It was all very Zen like, and it worked. THANK GOD. Not that holding ice really compares to being ripped apart at the seams, but I can try and tell myself it does, right? The husbands also got their turns to practice the 'Zen' like technique. Guess whose husband cracked up laughing (actually, it was more like girly-giggling, which he is REALLY good at), which then made ALL of the husbands start laughing? And guess whose husband, when asked to use pastels to make a sketch of how he envisions the journey of birth, MADE AN ABSTRACT SKETCH OF THE BOMBERS WINNING THE GREY CUP????!!!!!! It couldn't have been my husband...no, he's supposed to be 'edumacated.'

Of course with every birthing class, discussion of Cesarean sections tends to come up. I thought that I was relatively at peace with this. I don't want one, but if it is medically 'necessary' then I figured I'd be okay with it. Apparently not. I found myself tearing up throughout the WHOLE conversation about C-Sections. The facilitator told us to think about it more along the lines of a 'Cesarean birth' rather than as being cut open and the baby being ripped out. Well, semantics I say. A wonderful little euphemism at its finest. Sorry, but I am not easily convinced to think differently about something just because it is being called something different. I discovered that I am absolutely TERRIFIED to have a C-section. It is the ABSOLUTE last thing I want. I want to deliver naturally, without feeling like my child is being ripped out of me. I actually WANT the pain of natural labour, as many millions of women have endured it before me for thousands of years. I want to be part of that cycle. I look at it like a rite of passage, and I want to be an active participant. I don't want to be made to feel helpless. NO, I haven't decided to start drinking again - I am 100% lucid as I type this. I think I may be jinxing myself though...That tends to be how things work in my world. If I reallllllyyyy don't want something to happen, it usually does...

On the bright side of things...I am UNEMPLOYED! I know, most people don't think this is a happy time, but I have been counting down the days until I no longer had to work for the military. NEVER AGAIN. I will miss the money, but that's about it. I will NOT miss being reprimanded for asking questions. I will not miss the sheer boredom of cataloguing book after book. I will not miss the sexist and racist comments that cropped up when I least expected them. I will not miss being the only passenger on the logic train. I just will not miss it.

Now I can just focus on finishing my practicum. All fourteen school-days left of it. It may however suck all of the energy out of me first. Today was not too bad (only a handful of minor incidents today. Little bit of urine, little bit of blood...all in a day's work), and patience was on my side. By Friday, it will be BAD. My patience will have disappeared and started a long weekend without me. Although...there is a sub on Friday...muhahaha...sucks to be her.

And how is the little one? She is doing her best 'alien' impersonation. I'm not kidding. My belly is being poked and prodded from the inside out and it looks positively EERIE. I keep expecting a fist to punch its way through my belly button. She made my hubby yelp tonight! He had his hand on my belly while it was rolling and moving like a bowl of jelly, when he distinctly felt a limb move under his hand. I've felt this more than a few times, and in all honesty it usually makes me gasp in surprise too. She is running out of room and her movements are VERY noticeable now. I think she is a monkey. I think that we are definitely going to have our hands full with this little wiggle worm. DEAR GOD. What have we done?

35 MORE DAYS??? That can't be right...

If you write it, it will happen...

Stretch marks are like a disease. I complained last week that they were everywhere BUT on my belly. Well, guess what? They've spread... They have crept up the underside of my belly and are starting to make it look like I'm a cracked egg. The horror. My hopes and dreams of one day becoming a swimsuit model are shot. What? Stop laughing. Maybe I really did want to do that one day....

Another very icky, undesirable, symptom of pregnancy occurred this week. Skip to the next paragraph if you are at all queasy. I was sleeping peacefully (well, not really peacefully what with the hip and back pain, but I was somewhat asleep...), when I guess I burped. I only know that I did this because the burp was followed by a mouthful of puke, which went UP MY NOSE and woke me up. Quite possibly the most disgusting way to wake up, EVER. It burned. A lot. I gagged. A lot. Heartburn at its finest.

Dizzy spells have also been knocking on my door with fair regularity this week. I think I'm probably not drinking enough water, but if I drink more water, I have to go to the bathroom more, and I can't leave my students alone... It's a bit of a conundrum. It has made for a very long week at school. Especially when I have to pick my students up from gym class at the other end of the school, and I'm supposed to model for them how to walk in a straight line back to class. Yeah, try doing that while your head is spinning...

I now have a week off to recuperate and rest from my little demons, um, I mean sweethearts, at my school. It is Spring Break next week, yet there is a Winter Storm Watch in effect. Go figure. It also isn't really much of a break for me. I work at my crummy desk job from today until next Friday. But then I'm done! Well, my crummy desk job anyway. And then I'm poor and waiting for a different government department to hand me money...

Next week the hubby and I will be starting our birthing class. I'm excited for it, but I'm not sure that he is. I am wanting a holistic birth as much as possible (as in no medicinal intervention what-so-ever), so I signed us up for the "Birthing From Within" approach to labour and delivery. There is rumour that we will be asked to draw/sketch/paint some form of birth art, which has my hubby a bit weirded out. Oh well. It will be good for him! The whole birth process will be something extremely different for both of us, so we might as well get used to it now! There will be five other couples in the class, and our doula will be attending as well.

Two of my friends who were expecting babies a few weeks before me have already delivered! Not a good trend! With my one friend it was to be expected because she was carrying twins. However, my other friend delivered FIVE WEEKS early. In other words, where I'm at right now! She told me to pack a bag today. In all honesty, I've been trying to, but I only have two pairs of sweats that fit, no Pj's that fit, and a fairly limited supply of underwear that still fit. How do I put clothes away for five weeks when I need them? Hubby dear, looks like I need to go shopping! (tee hee)

And as I type, guess who has the hiccups, yet again? (I wonder if she'll be cursed with them everyday after she's born?)

Week 34, and all of a sudden six weeks to go sounds like 'too soon!'

Here a stretch mark, there a stretch mark, everywhere a stretch mark.. Oh McStretch-marks....
If the skin on a human body is such a pliable, stretchy organ (so says all of my preggie books) , why does it not stretch more like silly putty? Instead, when it is stretched beyond its limits, it rather looks like someone took a pointy hot metal rod and doodled on it... And WHY did the preggie books NOT tell me that I would get copious stretch marks everywhere, but hardly any on my belly? (which is the ONE place I was led to believe they would develop). Nope, nope, that would be too 'normal' and normal isn't a word that is usually associated with me (try 'contrary' 'weird' 'loopy' or 'silly' - those are apparently more apt descriptions). So my hubby likes to tell me. I, the abnormal one, have developed stretch marks on my back, my *cough* chest, my thighs, my butt, and of all places - the back of my knees. I have a total of two itsy-bitsy stretch marks on my belly that I can't see but I've been told are there. All of these marks on my body in addition to the mini-volcanoes erupting on my face, and I'm ready to trade my skin in for a more youthful model...

Aside from the stretch marks, there is nothing else really new to report. Did I mention already that the little one is prone to hiccups? Her record is four bouts of hiccups in one day! It's kind of annoying, but I can't be too angry about it. It lets me know she is alive and thriving. Although, it's kind of like when you have a muscle twitch in your eye that won't stop and it drives you insane... She is getting bigger and the size of her hips and head are starting to alarm me a bit. (I know the mechanics, but are you sure she is going to be able to come out there? Seriously - she's not even born yet and she already has my hips...)

On a heavier note, worrying has taken on a whole new level of meaning now that we are going to be parents in a few short weeks. We watched an awful movie the other night about children being abducted (Gone Baby Gone - don't watch it..), and all I kept thinking was 'how am I going to keep our little one safe after she is born?' Right now, I know where she is at all times - she is kicking up a storm in my belly. But what about in six weeks? I'm never going to want to let her out of my sight! There are just so many things that can go wrong, it's overwhelming to think about. Not only does it seem like there are threats to her safety everywhere I look, but there are also numerous things within our society that can negatively influence her. What do I mean? Just read the headlines in the newspaper, or listen to conversations on the street. Can I protect her from any of that? If not, how can I teach her to decipher from what is good and bad? Is it even that simple? In the classroom, I see how the media and society influences my students, and it's not always in a positive way. From the first grade student who sings 'bow chicka wow wow' as he passes by the busty educational assistant, to the second grade student who informs another student that Filipinos are not allowed at his house.... What it really comes down to is, will my hubby and I be able to teach our daughter how to be an intelligent, respectful, open-minded and good-natured person? Essentially, that's what every parent hopes for, isn't it? If not, WHY NOT?

Week 33 begins. Forty-nine (!!!) more days to go...

I survived this week. Barely. Let me reiterate that teaching while being pregnant....well, it's pure hell. There is no other way to put it! Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but it was a fairly stressful and painful week. Let me try to describe it for you:

Standing for roughly six hours a day, while the little one punches/kicks at my bladder, my ribs, my diaphragm...

Listening to other people's children whine about 'so and so PUSHED me!' 'so and so is LOOKING at me' 'I don't WANT to do my work'. The whole time I'm thinking, 'OH. MY. GOD. What have I done? Will this be MY child one day?'

Having my supervising teacher say to me: "Oh, you work on the weekends too? That doesn't give you much time to plan lessons. But, you said you're not sleeping, so that gives you A LOT of extra time to plan lessons...." Right, because I'm so alert and able to think clearly while I stare at the ceiling at 4:00am.

I was also delusional enough to believe that I'd have free time once my university classes ended. HA! My, was I naive! I have been more busy this past week, than most weeks during my time at the university. Every night I've spent a few hours planning lessons, in addition to the time I've spent at the elementary school. Still no time to stop and think about what life will really be like in about seven weeks. No time to actually ENJOY being pregnant. (although really, does anyone actually enjoy looking like Shamu, and belching every time they sit up? What on earth is beautiful about that? Whoever said that pregnancy is a beautiful time in a woman's life, well, they had obviously NEVER been pregnant.)

Goodness. I sound really, um, bitchy? Oh well. It'll all be better in seven weeks, right? Sigh. I can hear everyone laughing as they read that last line.

Cranky/psycho woman aside, there were some highlights to this week:

Highlight #1: My little one has been dancing up a storm in my belly. (okay, I know she isn't actually IN my belly, but it sounds better than saying 'in my uterus'. That just sounds too clinical. It's like my husband's aversion to certain clinical words that describe parts of the human anatomy...hehehe...) I wonder if the commotion and noisiness of my students is what has kept her on the move. My students can get pretty noisy - it's kind of hard for a wee little munchkin to sleep through that. It's actually kind of hard to teach through it too... It's a bizarre circle really. Student noise = baby kicks = distracted mom = distracted teacher = increase in student noise... That said, keep on moving little one! It let's me know you're okay.

Highlight #2: My hubby and I met with an angel in disguise this week. She is our doula and I am SOOO happy that she offered to help us through such a new, exciting, and unknown time. Both the hubby and I can be a bit, uh, hot-tempered (don't laugh when I write 'a bit'!), and it is so comforting to know that in the midst of potential confusion, there will be a calm voice of reason guiding and helping us. EVERYONE should consider having a doula. Brownie points also go out to her for bringing me pastries this week....

Highlight #3: The following comments came from two of my students:
1) Said while hugging my belly and looking up at me "You're the bestest teacher ever!"

2) Said from a really hyper fast-talking seven year old "Can you write down today's experiment!? I want to teach my brother! I like teaching! I want to be a teacher like you!"
We had been experimenting with how liquids and powders mix once combined. If you want to see a classroom of students get super excited about what they are doing, then combine syrup and baking powder in a cup. Making a mess = fun.

Seven more weeks of being pregnant and five more weeks in my teaching practicum....
I may need to reconsider the whole 'praying to a higher power' deal....

32 weeks, 8 months large, and 55 days until I'm due.

I've decided that my little bundle of joy currently residing under my ribs has developed a personality already. She (yes she - not a shy one during the ultrasound - legs wide open for all the world to see her in all of her, um, glory), is already like her mom (NOT the legs wide open part). By this I mean that she is a little contrary monkey. She will be kicking up a storm in my belly and I'll call her daddy over to feel all of the commotion, and she...just...stops...moving. Why does she do this? She's making a liar out of me already.

I also try to make little deals with her. I mean really, what's wrong with trying to rationalize with a baby who hasn't even been born yet? Ahh....high standards for her already. She's doomed. But seriously, the conversation with her through my belly goes like this: "okay little one. Mommy has an exam to write today. Please just sleep through it okay? Because when you're moving around in my belly, I can't concentrate. I can't think. I can't focus. All I can think is, 'awww, my baby is moving.' Sweet pea, this is not conducive to passing my exam. So, I need you to stay as still as possible, okay? " These aren't unreasonable things to ask an unborn child, are they? Well, my efforts at negotiation didn't work anyway. I had to endure my little one suffering through baby hiccups for the first fifteen minutes of my exam. Try writing about "socio-economic gradients" in schools when your belly is bouncing every two seconds. And your bladder is full. Sigh.

All that said, we are having fun together already. At least, I think we are. I told my hubby yesterday that we were 'playing'. To which he got that funny look on his face like he thought he may need to commit me sooner than he thought he would.... But seriously. I poked my belly. She poked back. We did this for a few minutes. I believe I was poking her elbow. Come to think of it - maybe we weren't playing. Maybe I was just annoying the crap out of her.

This past week I had an appointment with an obstetrician. Not MY obstetrician, but one of the other members of the OB team. It was the first time I was going to meet him (the part that he is a male was not sitting well with me). I get to the office and I'm told that he has a med student with him, and do I mind? What can I really say to that? I'm a student myself - it would be hypocritical to deny another student a learning opportunity, wouldn't it? Well...it was a bit of a comedy of errors. This little bit med student walks into the exam room and asks the usual questions. But instead of asking me how far along I am she looks at the 'roto-wheel' that tells the doctor how far along a woman is based on her last period. It appears as though she is having trouble figuring it out, so I tell her that I'm due on May 3rd, and that I'm just about 32 weeks along (two days shy at this point). She continues to stare at the wheel and then tells me I'm only 31 weeks. My comment about being 'just about' 32 weeks went over her head. Good listening skills doc. I'm then asked to get up on the exam table where she attempts to find my blood pressure. It took FOREVER. My hand was going numb because the cuff was too tight on my arm. Then comes the fun part of lying down so she can find the baby's heart beat with the doppler machine. Before try doing that though, she starts pushing and poking at my belly. This is the first time that anyone has done this during an exam, so I look at my hubby, eyebrow cocked, as if to say "WTF?" She does this without telling me what she is doing. My guess is that she is trying to figure out how the baby is lying, but I decide to wait until after hearing the heartbeat to ask what the point of all the poking was. She gets the doppler machine, and I wait, and wait, and wait. I know that our little one is fine because she's kicking up a storm at this point (I think all the poking pissed her off too), but the med student still can't find the heartbeat. FINALLY she finds it, then measures my belly, and FINALLY she is done. Longest prenatal exam ever. I ask the little bit med student how the baby is laying, and she says 'head down'. I respond with 'are you sure?', as I was pretty sure the baby is lying across my belly, not head down. FINALLY the 'real' OB came back in and had to REDO everything the med student had done. I guess he was ensuring that all of her measurements, etc were correct. Well....NONE of them were. She had measured my heart rate too high, my fundal height too low, and she was WAY off on how the baby was lying. Just for the record, mom does know best and I was 100% correct about the baby's position. Her head is on my left side, her bottom is under my right rib, and she is facing inwards. (Note to baby: feel free to turn ANY TIME NOW. I can't birth you back first) Needless to say, all attempts will be made to ban med students from the delivery room. I can just see it now. Med student: "the baby's heartbeat is up! Fetal distress! Cesarean section, NOW!" Actual doctor: "The baby just has hiccups."

Tomorrow I begin the second block of my teaching practicum. I should be looking forward to it, but I am DREADING it. I will be in my practicum until a week before I am due, and I think this will be the biggest test of my patience and energy level. My biggest fear is that I will deliver early, or that my water will break in the classroom. I know that the odds of that are slim to none, but there is still a chance it could happen. If it does, in an effort to not panic my students, I have decided to tell them that I peed myself. Really. It is the easiest option! There are a few students in the class who have accidents every now and then, so I figure I can say "see, Mrs. P ('P' haha) has accidents too!" The alternative is that the students will ask a million questions that I'm not quite prepared to answer. (A few of the questions already asked: "How is the baby coming out?", "You have to be 20 to have a baby, right?", "Why is there a baby in your belly?") So, right, not prepared to discuss going into labour with children who are 6 and 7. Well, we'll see how this week goes. Hopefully I survive it (cross your fingers!) and can write all about the trials and tribulations of the first week....