my daily bread.

ice-cubes
…is actually more like my nightly ice.

I’m often asked if pregnancy has brought out any weird food cravings. My response is largely a no – I have been eating more sweets and junk than usual, but nothing out of the ordinary, save for one honey-drizzled hamburger occurrence. If anything, being pregnant has heightened and increased my food aversions (chicken, cucumber, oranges), although I can say that there has been one notable – somewhat strange – habit that I’ve picked up seemingly out of the blue.

For the last month or so, it has been my regular pre-bed ritual to get the biggest glass I can find, and pack it full of ice cubes to crunch. Sometimes I add water, and other times I don’t…the only must is that there be a TON of ice.

I’ve read that this is a common practice among pregnant women. It’s called Pica – an uncontrollable craving to eat non-food items. Ice cravings are also common in anemics; and while I’ve dealt with low blood iron for most of my life, I’ve never craved ice this way before.

Actually, prior to getting pregnant/my third trimester, I was never a fan of ice/ice water or even cold drinks. I prefer my beverages room temperature. I think that has to do with the fact that I am always cold. I won’t eat ice cream in winter for the same reason.

Because ice is just water, I’m not at all concerned about any ill effects on my health. I do worry about how all of this ice crunching will affect my teeth. I can only tolerate the cold on the right side of my mouth; the left side is extremely sensitive to cold and sweet.

I brought it up to Dr. Freedman, and she told me that as per my research, it’s a pretty normal thing that will likely dissipate once the babe arrives.

Until then, I’m staying crunchy, my friends.

repeat offender.

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This time, it ain’t my baby that ails me.

I just got back home from being in hospital – again! This makes visit number five since September.

I went in yesterday evening for sharp, stabbing pains at the top right of my abdomen. It’s been ongoing since Peanut dropped sometime on Thursday night, and I worried (briefly) that it might be placental abruption. There has been no bleeding and no nausea, chills or fever, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t in the throes of anything serious. However, the area was tender to the touch, and since my name is not Doc McStuffins, I thought it would be better if I made a visit to Labour & Delivery to get checked out.

The nurses at L&D at my home hospital are more than familiar with me, so admission was a breeze. Besides, it’s rare that anyone wanders into L&D after 10pm, so it was a light night. I was set up in a bed in triage, asked to give a urine sample and squeeze into the netting that holds the various monitors required to assess me, and was told that a nurse would be in momentarily.

I was hooked up to sensors to follow Peanut’s heartbeat and movement, and after about 30 minutes the printouts from the machine led the nurse to determine that the baby was fine. Since I’d come in complaining of abdominal pain, she wondered if it might not be some kind of heartburn? And perhaps if I took sodium citrate I might feel better? Continue reading

things i didn’t consider.

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One good thing about taking little ones out for Hallowe’en: getting to steal monitor their stash.

Today is Hallowe’en, and someone casually remarked how next year, I’ll have my own adorable little Trick or Treater to wrangle candy from unwitting strangers.

As one who hates the day (the kids are cute, but only the really little ones. I also generally find the hype annoying), this comment made me think about all the other dreadful activities will I have to participate in because I am now part of the Parents’ Club?

The boy and I already agreed that he would do (translation: take her to) all of the sports-related activities. If she’s in any sort of skating, running around on a field after a ball, or anything that involves waking up super-early or standing out in the cold, he’s on-duty. I volunteered for any sort of Mommy & Me classes, painting, dancing, tumbling, or things that take place indoors appeal to my artsy side. Continue reading

constant cravings.

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The pregnant lady wants what she wants.

Throughout different times in my pregnancy, I’ve craved different things.

In the very early stages, I wanted all kinds of dairy (yogurt and milk – chocolate milk in particular, and process cheese slices. Do those even count?). I developed an affinity for condiments on everything I ate, especially ketchup – something I wasn’t very fond of prior to becoming pregnant. There was also a hankering for meat. Beef and pork were the flesh of choice; I was never a huge chicken fan before, and something about the smell and taste of it completely turns me off now.

I have always had a well-developed sweet tooth, and pregnancy has only served to heighten this. I eat a candy bar about twice a week, usually a Twix or Wunderbar, and in the absence of chocolate, a personal-sized mini-tub of Hagen Dazs dulce de leche does the trick. Continue reading

she’s having a baby.

pink lines

Crazy ain’t it?

In hindsight, this makes total sense. The debilitating tiredness and the mood swings. The strange and overwhelming cravings for meat, and the breast tenderness. All month long, the boy’s been commenting that my boobs are looking bigger. At least now we know why.

Speaking of whom, he didn’t even flinch when I told him the news yesterday. I’d called him into the bathroom to show him the test. He stared at it for a second, and asked, “what am I looking for? There’s one dark line and one really light one. Does that mean you’re not pregnant?”

“No,” I replied. “There are two lines. It means that I am. It doesn’t matter how faint they are.”

“Huh.” It wasn’t a question, more like a sound. “Huh.” He said it again, and smiled a little smile.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, babe. I’m happy.” I put the test down on the bathroom vanity and reached out to him for a hug. We stood holding each other for a few minutes, letting the reality of this new development sink in. We haven’t been getting along lately – he said it was like I had PMS all the time. Hormones. Pregnancy. Duh.

It all makes sense now.