Initial surprise notwithstanding, I have to say I’m pretty freaking happy that li’l miss is coming into the world a good week or so earlier than planned.
At 38w1d, I’m extremely uncomfortable. I know I keep bitching and moaning about it, but as anyone who has made it to this point (and sometimes beyond) can tell you, the last weeks aren’t much fun.
in the nude…
Currently, I don’t like wearing clothes. I haven’t bought a stitch of maternity gear, so the the few loose-fitting items I wore in month six, seven and even eight REALLY don’t fit me now. I’ve resorted to a pair of tights and pajama pants borrowed from mum, and a few stretchy tank tops. When I wear my own clothes, I look as though I’ve been stuffed into them. It’s impossible to look cute now, which is why I’ve pretty much stopped leaving the house. I’ve always been comfortable in the buff, but now that I’ve moved into ginormous territory, I am happiest in just my underwear (and even those feel too constricting at times) with a sheet covering me for modesty.
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
Suck it up, buttercup. You wanted this.
It’s 5:37am, and I’m up because I’m wholly uncomfortable.
Today is 33 weeks. Peanut is the size of a pineapple (another one of my least-liked fruits/veggies) and I read someplace that this is around the time that she will settle into her final position before birth. She’s always been active, but lately her movements are bigger – stop-me-in-my-tracks shocking – as if she’s a rabbit burrowing a den for the winter. I’m feeling her feet (hands? elbows? heels?) dig into parts of my body she never bothered with before. I’m pretty sure my ribs are bruised from the inside.
Pelvic Girdle Pain has set in, making it near-impossible at times to walk with my legs together. I look like I just got off a horse, or as though someone gave me a good, hard boot to the crotch. I alternate between pain that keeps me awake, and pain (mostly from the back) that knocks me out. I’ve also developed Restless Legs Syndrome, which hits me hard at night. I literally feel as though I have ants in my pants (or under my skin) and constantly have kick and rub my legs and frequently change positions to get the sensations to stop. Continue reading
The shape of things to come?
I have been dealing with Braxton-Hicks probably since early in month six. They have been frequent and uncomfortable from day one. In spite of the discomfort, the B. Hicks are usually mild and painless; my belly contorts and makes interesting shapes, much like the image above. Right now, though, I feel like I might be in the throes of early labour. It’s 6:49 am, and I was awakened not too long ago by a hard kick from Aisha, and severe pressure around my mid-section.
1. 6:49 am – 30 seconds.
2. 6:50 am – 31 seconds.
Because the sensation is more painful than usual, I am timing these cramps/contractions. They’re coming about a minute to three minutes apart and lasting for about 30 seconds. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m in more pain/discomfort than usual. I really hope it’s not labour.
3. 6:53 am – 35 seconds.
Perhaps I’m just dehydrated, and these are ridiculous Braxton-Hicks. I quickly consulted Dr. Google, and nothing he says indicates that this might be labour (no bleeding, discharge or anything like that. Will keep searching. And praying).
This can’t be labour. Aisha’s still kicking about in there. Continue reading
Aerial view. Has anyone seen my toes? They were here a few weeks ago…
This isn’t so much a TMI as it is an update – although the attached image of me below, semi-clothed, might be a little more of me than some are comfortable with.
I haven’t been one for pictures during this pregnancy, but I thought it might be good to post a recent image of my current form. I’ve already posted about being too big to shave, but really, I just feel so big in general. It’s amazing how, in a few short weeks I’ve gone to half of my wardrobe fitting to nothing fitting at all.
I’ve spent the first five months of this pregnancy feeling pretty good. This Friday marks my entry into the 24th week, and I gotta say, I’m pretty much over it now.
I’m in a constant state of discomfort: I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t eat without crippling heartburn or reflux. I have blurred vision and a bad memory. My bodily functions are out of whack, my centre of gravity is shot all to hell, and I hurt. Everywhere. All of the time.
I would give anything to be able to poop like a normal person. Continue reading
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
Mother’s little helper ain’t what it used to be.
Any relief I get from taking codeine and morphine is superseded by the guilt about the real or perceived damage I’m inflicting on my little one.
But I’m simply in too much pain to function, think, or even breathe. The halfway mark is approaching, and I don’t want to spend the next 20 weeks on narcotics. For the most part I try to hold off for as long as possible before I pop a pill, but I’m this ( – ) close to admitting myself back into hospital so I can get a dose of morphine to lower the volume on the pain from nerve-jangling throbbing to something a little less crazy-making.
When I’m playing superwoman (and opting out of downing a tab), my coping methods involve Lamaze-inspired breathing techniques and pacing. These don’t lessen the pain by any means, but they certainly distract.
There’s also the worry about the prolonged damage to my liver. Dr. Freedman assures me that it would take more than the occasional Tylenol 3 to ruin me, but it’s still a concern. No matter how beneficial these drugs are in the short term, the long-term implications weigh on my mind.