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?