Yeah…I’m good, thanks.
I have an acquaintance who had a baby, like, a minute ago, and she has suddenly become the rather insufferable Expert Of All Things Baby-Related (EATBR).
From aspirators to zinc cream, she is constantly dispensing advice on which brand/size/colour/flavour/version of a technique, product or service is best. I wouldn’t find her so annoying if this was her fifth of sixth child (in fact, then she would have earned the title of EATBR, and I might be inclined to take a note or two). But alas, this is her first babe, her first shot at parenthood – likely the first time in her life she’s ever heard the terms colostrum, gripe water or swaddle.
And yet, somehow, miraculously, after having barely just squeezed progeny from her loins, she has earned her Level Nine Grand Wizardress of Knowledge badge, entitling her to spew nuggets of wisdom on other, hapless first-time moms-to-be.
Like me. Read more
(*My girlfriends sent me a message on Facebook with that very greeting. Aw.)
Good Lord. Today is 36 weeks. I am officially nine months pregnant. Aside from growing my hair, school, (and a stint living in Montreal), I’ve never done anything this difficult, for this long, in my life. 😀 I wanted to take another selfie to commemorate the occasion, but honestly, I’m feeling like I’ve got a watermelon strapped to my frame, and not at all very photogenic at the moment.
So instead, here’s a picture of a watermelon-as-baby.
I’m horrified, but I can’t. stop. laughing.
Oh, and speaking of watermelon, these:
Come on. SO cute. Much better than that thing I posted above.
I know this was a disappointing post. I’m sorry. I usually dislike when my favourite bloggers post nonsensical shit like this (assuming that I am one of your favourite bloggers). Never mind. I have a few posts in the works, so you’ll hear from me over the next coupla days. I’m feeling prolific; I might as well write while I can. I don’t know if I’ll have any energy at all to do so by next month.
Does it extend across species?
I just read the saddest story in the Huffington Post about a baby elephant in China that was attacked and subsequently abandoned by its mother. The little one cried for five hours (just typing that made me teary-eyed), and the story made me want to gather up this giant baby in my arms and console him.
It was this sentence that started the welling of the wet stuff:
“Photos taken of the crying baby elephant, named Zhuang Zhuang, show tears streaming from his red eyes and down his face. In one shot, he is seen lying under a blanket while he appears to weep.”
The accompanying photo (not the one above) finished me. I couldn’t bear to watch the video.
Generally, I’m a hardass to the human condition, but I’m a big animal-sucky; almost any picture or video of cutelings can set off a series of “awwwwww” from me. And heaven help me if said photo or footage is about abandoned or distressed animals.
On a normal, non-pregnant day, I’m gutted. With all the hormones coursing through my veins lately, I simply cannot.
I really should clean the mirror.
I am huge, I am uncomfortable and I can barely breathe. I’m unable to sleep for more than two to three hours at a time, so I’m exhausted, a little cranky and always hungry. I can’t pee without experiencing Braxton-Hicks, and with my ever-expanding dimensions, simple, daily things like climbing the stairs or washing the dishes leave me breathless. I can’t eat without spillage, as the belly makes it impossible to pull up to the table – no matter how careful I am, I invariably drop something in transit from plate to mouth. Being comfortable in clothes – or in my skin! – seems like a distant memory.
However, with every kick, roll, flutter and turn, I grow more and more excited and curious about the little peanut who still grows inside me. I wonder if she’ll be as active outside as she is in my womb. Will she be a happy baby? Will she be a cuddler? Will she like music? Will she be a sleeper or an eater? Will she be a tiny baby? What will her first cries sound like? I’ve never been so unsure, but also anxious, impatient and thrilled at the prospect of being a mommy. I simply cannot wait for the arrival of the little whirlwind that’s going to change my life forever.
Any day now, Aisha. Any day.
I’m going to get someone to bring me a whole platter of this THE MINUTE SHE IS OUT OF MY BODY.
Was out to dinner with the boy on Saturday. Navigating restaurant menus has become tricky, because my first inclination is to either order steak or salmon. I like (nay, love) my steaks rare (warm and bloody, really), which is a no-no during pregnancy. Salmon isn’t on the always-avoid list, but because the mercury can be harmful to the little one, I’ve just not eaten any in the past nine months. At this point, I don’t think it would harm her, as she will be, as of this coming Friday, A FULL TERM BABY (woot) — but why take any chances?
I miss eating Brie. And all soft, unripened cheeses. I so miss sushi – salmon sashimi in particular. I miss drinking a full glass of Jacob’s Creek moscato (oh, who’m I kidding? I can easily polish off a bottle of that sweet elixir) and having a cigarette after a good meal. Yes, I’m a former smoker. We’ll see what happens with that. I know it’s a disgusting vice, and I’ve made it the last 200-odd days without one, so how hard can it be to continue on the path? I’ve got to say it’ll be a lot easier to maintain non-smoker status as the boy quit last summer…and if I’m planning on breastfeeding, the drinking and the smoking will have to remain a negative, Batman.
Know what I also miss? Exercise. Never thought I’d say that in a million years! I can’t wait to get back to doing Insanity and ZWow and all of my other HIIT. Exercise also includes salsa/bachata – and any dancing in general. I’ll likely have another 6-8 weeks after Aisha is born to be able to even THINK about moving with any intensity, but oh, how I dream about being active again.
Don’t get me wrong; I’ve enjoyed having pregnancy as an excuse to pretty much eat and sleep with some abandon, but I also have to say I can’t wait until she’s here so I can get back to some semblance of the me that was.
I miss being able to see my toes. 😦
…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.
I’ve been a bit incognegro these last few days. I had a rather big writing assignment to complete, as well as a few engagements, and then there was my un-shower…so I had good reason for not blogging. Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. And you.
first things first…
Last Friday marked 34 weeks. My little peanut is actually the size of a honeydew melon (finally, produce that I enjoy eating!) and will prolly remain about that size for the next two weeks or so. She has been transverse breech for the majority of this pregnancy, but lately has taken to basically standing upright (footling breech) in the womb, feet kicking my bladder. Fun.
high tea at the Windsor Arms…
What more can I say? It was High Tea. At the Windsor Arms. And it was lovely. We wore fascinators. And took pics. We looked great! We had canapés and mini-sandwiches, and quiches with fancy stuff in’em. The scones were OFF THE CHARTS (though I really could have done without the desserts. They were only “meh.”) My girls surprised me with a little mom-to-be evening out, including a GC for a mani and pedi. Aw. I’m not a spa-girl, but I will haul my heavy backside out to Bayview Village and get my F&Ts done.
The fabulous five and their four fascinators.