1- Whilst returning from starbucks earlier this week, I was literally one second late stepping onto the sidewalk after the light changed, and some hillbilly yelled out his truck window, "Walk faster, fatty!" Not even flocking kidding. Now, it's true, I had a suit coat on, which as Sean has so graciously pointed out, I should keep unbuttoned because "otherwise [I] don't look pregnant, just like [I'm] a big girl." (Thanks honey, love you too. Kisses.) But seriously, even if I wasn't pregnant, who the hell yells out of their car about anyone's weight?! I mean honestly.
He's lucky I didn't dent his hood with my big butt.
2- My boss told me I look like a blueberry this morning.
3- The sammich shop dude starting singing "Purple Rain" to me at lunch.
PURPLE SHIRT BIG BELLEH FTW!
In other news, it's hard to tie my shoes anymore. In fact, it's just hard to bend over. Whenever this occurs, there's is much heavy breathing and maybe even a grunt or two. Awesome. Also very attractive.
Also, baby's getting strong. So much so that his kicks change the shape of my stomach. Sometimes when he's really active I just like to watch him deform my stomach for a few minutes. I love you, alien baby.
Ok, random ass topic post completed. You may now resume your regularly scheduled programming.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Good gravy- that's some belleh.
OK. As promised, here are some belly pictures I've taken throughout the pregnancy. I was much more diligent at the beginning of the pregnancy. And, as you'll see, a lot braver about bearing my nekkid belleh. These days, not so much. The only person who sees my stomach is Sean, and only if he sneaks in on me unawares. Ha.
And, heeeeeeeeeere we go- this is me pre-pregnancy. I wasn't in tip top physical condition when I got pregnant- in fact, I was the heaviest I've ever been (which is nothing compared to where I'm at now), but looking back, I'd give my left arm to look like this again.
Here's a nice one of Sean and I right after we found out I was pregnant. We hadn't even been to the doctor yet, but I'd had two big fat positives on the pregnancy tests. We celebrated at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant in the Paris Casino. It was one of those meals you don't forget--not so much because of the food (although it was tasty), but the view of the Bellagio fountains was amazing. You can't see my stomach in the picture, but trust me, if this dress still fit, then I didn't look pregnant at all.
This is me at about six weeks pregnant. (Fairly) flat-ish stomach. And I evidently need to clean my bathroom mirror more often.
Next up, seven weeks. I swear, I look thinner in this picture, but you can see the beginning of pregnancy lower belly bloat starting. I would like to kick my own butt, by the way, for thinking I was fat before. Sheesh.
I think this next one's ten or so weeks. I swear, sometimes I do clean my bathroom.
Next up is fifteen and sixteen weeks. Sean and I took a baby moon to Hawaii. I remember thinking I was huge there, but to look at these pictures, you can't even tell I was prego.
Here's eighteen or nineteen weeks or so. Was mid-pregnancy and finally starting to look pregnant. Please ignore the goofy face I'm making. Evidently it took great concentration to get this photo.
This next one's about 22 or 23 weeks. It was taken right near Thanksgiving. Let me just say- maternity pants are the way to go on turkey day.
And this is around 25 weeks. There is no doubt at this point I'm knocked up.
You guys have seen before, but I'm posting it again. It's 27 weeks. Excuse the laundry that needs to be put away on the bed behind me.
And, finally, this last one is 31 weeks. Or, last week to the rest of the world.
I'll finish posting as the weeks tick by and my stomach starts really taking over. It's kind of hard to believe I'll get any bigger, but I know I will because Swimmy's still going to gain between 2 and 5 pounds (hopefully no more- a ten pound baby seems a little scary to me, delivery-wise).
That's all for now- more on baby's development later this week after Wednesday's doctor appointment.
And, heeeeeeeeeere we go- this is me pre-pregnancy. I wasn't in tip top physical condition when I got pregnant- in fact, I was the heaviest I've ever been (which is nothing compared to where I'm at now), but looking back, I'd give my left arm to look like this again.
Here's a nice one of Sean and I right after we found out I was pregnant. We hadn't even been to the doctor yet, but I'd had two big fat positives on the pregnancy tests. We celebrated at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant in the Paris Casino. It was one of those meals you don't forget--not so much because of the food (although it was tasty), but the view of the Bellagio fountains was amazing. You can't see my stomach in the picture, but trust me, if this dress still fit, then I didn't look pregnant at all.
This is me at about six weeks pregnant. (Fairly) flat-ish stomach. And I evidently need to clean my bathroom mirror more often.
Next up, seven weeks. I swear, I look thinner in this picture, but you can see the beginning of pregnancy lower belly bloat starting. I would like to kick my own butt, by the way, for thinking I was fat before. Sheesh.
I think this next one's ten or so weeks. I swear, sometimes I do clean my bathroom.
Next up is fifteen and sixteen weeks. Sean and I took a baby moon to Hawaii. I remember thinking I was huge there, but to look at these pictures, you can't even tell I was prego.
Here's eighteen or nineteen weeks or so. Was mid-pregnancy and finally starting to look pregnant. Please ignore the goofy face I'm making. Evidently it took great concentration to get this photo.
This next one's about 22 or 23 weeks. It was taken right near Thanksgiving. Let me just say- maternity pants are the way to go on turkey day.
And this is around 25 weeks. There is no doubt at this point I'm knocked up.
You guys have seen before, but I'm posting it again. It's 27 weeks. Excuse the laundry that needs to be put away on the bed behind me.
And, finally, this last one is 31 weeks. Or, last week to the rest of the world.
I'll finish posting as the weeks tick by and my stomach starts really taking over. It's kind of hard to believe I'll get any bigger, but I know I will because Swimmy's still going to gain between 2 and 5 pounds (hopefully no more- a ten pound baby seems a little scary to me, delivery-wise).
That's all for now- more on baby's development later this week after Wednesday's doctor appointment.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Registration Hesitation
Last weekend Sean and I went to Babies R Us to do our baby registry. [Incidentally, it really bothers me the way that store makes the R backwards. It's stupid.] Anyhow, so we went to do the registry, which I was a little worried about because although Sean is generally a very (very) patient man, shopping trips like this are the kryptonite to his usually resilient patience. The woman handed us a scanner and a book that told us what we'd need as new parents (how nice of them), and sent us on our way.
First stop: infant feeding. Why, oh why, do they make this so stinking complicated? I was on the verge of a meltdown when faced with a wall of breastfeeding implements. Oh my gosh- what the hell is a nipple shield? How do I know if I need it? Thankfully, I had done some research about which breast pump is best for a working momma, otherwise, that would have been overwhelming as well. And then we got to the bottles section. Did you know there are different sorts of bottles for different aged children? And, they're all mixed together on the shelves in the store? Oh, Babies R Us, you are a very annoying experience. I imagine that if you've had a baby before, it's all very easy, but for Sean and I, this was like one of the seven circles of hell. Truly. As a result, our registry has one bottle on it. One. That should be enough, right? Thankfully, a friend of mine who has a baby is going to meet me there on Saturday so I can fix that portion of my registry. And, even if no one buys me bottles, at least I'll have had a tutorial about what the hell I'm going to need to feed this kid.
You're probably getting worried that I'm going to bore you with the details of the whole experience, but honestly, once we left the infant feeding area, it was not so bad at all. Dare I say, it was almost fun. Almost. All told, we were in there for about 2 or 3 hours, and Sean did not complain once. Not once. I was very impressed. I can't say we did a perfect job (we weren't nearly as thorough as the couple who was in the stroller area for a full hour- omg- I think I'd kill myself), but I think we at least know what we'll need. Or not. Whatever.
The one last observation I'll make about the whole process is that store sure thinks you need a lot of crap to have a baby. Goodness.
As time ticks closer to my due date (only 64 days to go!), I am getting so excited. I feel little swimmy move around a lot in my tum these days. He's very active. I think after it's all said and done, I'll miss having my little guy with me all the time. He's getting really big. He's now about 3.5 pounds and 18 inches long (nearly as long as he'll be when he's born). My little tracker thingie says baby's as big as a head of lettuce, but I've never seen a head of lettuce that's a foot and a half long. I think the produce references are total shite, if I'm being honest about it. Swimmy's also getting fatter and shedding the hair that grew over his body to keep him warm. I hope he's a big baby- mostly because it means I'm not as big of a hoss as I seem (my weight gain is definitely on the high end of recommended). But the major development this week is his brain. So, I've been eating lots of protein and taking my fish oil so our little man's brain is full o' smarts. [You hear that, kid, mom and dad are public servants, so keep that brain developing so you can get a college scholarship.]
Starting tomorrow, I begin the 8th month of pregnancy! And in only 5-6 weeks, I will technically be full term. So wild. I am really really excited to meet my little guy.
First stop: infant feeding. Why, oh why, do they make this so stinking complicated? I was on the verge of a meltdown when faced with a wall of breastfeeding implements. Oh my gosh- what the hell is a nipple shield? How do I know if I need it? Thankfully, I had done some research about which breast pump is best for a working momma, otherwise, that would have been overwhelming as well. And then we got to the bottles section. Did you know there are different sorts of bottles for different aged children? And, they're all mixed together on the shelves in the store? Oh, Babies R Us, you are a very annoying experience. I imagine that if you've had a baby before, it's all very easy, but for Sean and I, this was like one of the seven circles of hell. Truly. As a result, our registry has one bottle on it. One. That should be enough, right? Thankfully, a friend of mine who has a baby is going to meet me there on Saturday so I can fix that portion of my registry. And, even if no one buys me bottles, at least I'll have had a tutorial about what the hell I'm going to need to feed this kid.
You're probably getting worried that I'm going to bore you with the details of the whole experience, but honestly, once we left the infant feeding area, it was not so bad at all. Dare I say, it was almost fun. Almost. All told, we were in there for about 2 or 3 hours, and Sean did not complain once. Not once. I was very impressed. I can't say we did a perfect job (we weren't nearly as thorough as the couple who was in the stroller area for a full hour- omg- I think I'd kill myself), but I think we at least know what we'll need. Or not. Whatever.
The one last observation I'll make about the whole process is that store sure thinks you need a lot of crap to have a baby. Goodness.
As time ticks closer to my due date (only 64 days to go!), I am getting so excited. I feel little swimmy move around a lot in my tum these days. He's very active. I think after it's all said and done, I'll miss having my little guy with me all the time. He's getting really big. He's now about 3.5 pounds and 18 inches long (nearly as long as he'll be when he's born). My little tracker thingie says baby's as big as a head of lettuce, but I've never seen a head of lettuce that's a foot and a half long. I think the produce references are total shite, if I'm being honest about it. Swimmy's also getting fatter and shedding the hair that grew over his body to keep him warm. I hope he's a big baby- mostly because it means I'm not as big of a hoss as I seem (my weight gain is definitely on the high end of recommended). But the major development this week is his brain. So, I've been eating lots of protein and taking my fish oil so our little man's brain is full o' smarts. [You hear that, kid, mom and dad are public servants, so keep that brain developing so you can get a college scholarship.]
Starting tomorrow, I begin the 8th month of pregnancy! And in only 5-6 weeks, I will technically be full term. So wild. I am really really excited to meet my little guy.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Pregnancy Meltdown Part Dos: This Time It's Not My Fault
A belated happy new year to all of you! Apologies yet again for another two week delay in any updates. I wish I had an excuse to offer, but no, sadly, it was just a case of I-don't-feel-like-looking-at-my-computer-once-I-come-home-from-work-itis. I'm sure you've all experienced this at one time.
That, and last week I experienced a bout of bad news that I really didn't feel like telling anyone about, and I had nothing else to write about. But now all appears to be back to smooth sailing so I can share my mild moment of panic with you. I am warning you now: this may be TMI. Consider yourself advised to quit reading should you feel squeamish or not want to know.
Last Wednesday, I went to work just like normal, and around 830 or so, I headed to the loo (which is a very common occurance these days what with baby resting atop my bladder and all). When I wiped, I saw red. Lots of red. Like, oh my freaking goodness, I'm having my period red. Of course, being the level-headed woman I am, I freaked the hell out and called Sean. And then my doctor. Who told me to head to labor and delivery. Which I did. God bless the woman I work with who remained calm and drove me to the hospital.
So I get there and put on the awesome hospital gown. Well, I attempt to, but there's no mirror in the rest room, and I can't see how it attaches at the top in the back, so I attempt to cover my largesse as I carry my work clothes to the triage bed which I have been assigned. Must have been quite a sight: mildly frantic woman with her arms full of clothes and shoes and coat and scarf and purse attempting to waddle across the room whilst simultaneously attempting to keep her azz covered. Awesome.
I get to the bed, and I lie down, and I give the nurse my entire medical history. Well, not really, but it seemed like it. And, at this point the work colleague who drove me is looking more than a little uncomfortable because she doesn't know if I'm uncomfortable answering these questions in front of her. (Like I said, she's truly a very kind woman). Anyway, when the nurse started asking me about vaginal discharge, that sent her on her way. Haha. If I hadn't been so scared, I might have laughed at the whole thing.
A perinatologist came to see me and did an ultrasound. It turns out there's a small clot on the edge of my placenta, and that's what has been causing the spotting all throughout my pregnancy, and that's what caused the bleeding that morning. My doctor was updated, and he decided to keep me in the hospital for twenty-four hours for monitoring--you know, to make sure baby was moving like he should, and I wasn't having any contractions, etc. In other words, to make sure I wasn't about to have the baby that day or anything. Incidentally, it's actually sort of a blessing this happened because now my OB knows that he needs to watch the clot to make sure it stays where it is and doesn't get bigger, et cetera, et cetera. I digress.
For the next twenty-four hours I sat in a hospital bed. Mostly bored except when two girlfriends and/or Sean was there visiting me. I truly feel for the women who are put on bed rest for weeks or months during their pregnancy. It is a miserable experience. There's only so much day time television that can be watched, only so much internet to surf, and only so much reading a person can do before they need to GET THE HELL OUT OF BED.
On the positive side, the nurses in the hospital (it's also the hospital I'll deliver at) were nice. Like, maybe the nicest nurses I've ever encountered. So, although labor is still a pretty intimidating thing for me to consider, it's nice to know I'll be helped through it with women like that.
There you have it: my blog-delaying drama. Everything's back to being normal again except I'm not allowed to work out, and I'm not allowed to have sex until baby comes. Actually, the doctor said he might let me use the recumbant bike a little each day, and he's gonna let me know about that tomorrow at my appointment. I miss walking and biking and yoga. Lack of exercise is no bueno for this woman. Endorphins: I needs them.
In other news, baby shower planning is in full swing methinks. Woot, woot. Sean and I even registed this weekend. But that's a post for another day.
That, and last week I experienced a bout of bad news that I really didn't feel like telling anyone about, and I had nothing else to write about. But now all appears to be back to smooth sailing so I can share my mild moment of panic with you. I am warning you now: this may be TMI. Consider yourself advised to quit reading should you feel squeamish or not want to know.
Last Wednesday, I went to work just like normal, and around 830 or so, I headed to the loo (which is a very common occurance these days what with baby resting atop my bladder and all). When I wiped, I saw red. Lots of red. Like, oh my freaking goodness, I'm having my period red. Of course, being the level-headed woman I am, I freaked the hell out and called Sean. And then my doctor. Who told me to head to labor and delivery. Which I did. God bless the woman I work with who remained calm and drove me to the hospital.
So I get there and put on the awesome hospital gown. Well, I attempt to, but there's no mirror in the rest room, and I can't see how it attaches at the top in the back, so I attempt to cover my largesse as I carry my work clothes to the triage bed which I have been assigned. Must have been quite a sight: mildly frantic woman with her arms full of clothes and shoes and coat and scarf and purse attempting to waddle across the room whilst simultaneously attempting to keep her azz covered. Awesome.
I get to the bed, and I lie down, and I give the nurse my entire medical history. Well, not really, but it seemed like it. And, at this point the work colleague who drove me is looking more than a little uncomfortable because she doesn't know if I'm uncomfortable answering these questions in front of her. (Like I said, she's truly a very kind woman). Anyway, when the nurse started asking me about vaginal discharge, that sent her on her way. Haha. If I hadn't been so scared, I might have laughed at the whole thing.
A perinatologist came to see me and did an ultrasound. It turns out there's a small clot on the edge of my placenta, and that's what has been causing the spotting all throughout my pregnancy, and that's what caused the bleeding that morning. My doctor was updated, and he decided to keep me in the hospital for twenty-four hours for monitoring--you know, to make sure baby was moving like he should, and I wasn't having any contractions, etc. In other words, to make sure I wasn't about to have the baby that day or anything. Incidentally, it's actually sort of a blessing this happened because now my OB knows that he needs to watch the clot to make sure it stays where it is and doesn't get bigger, et cetera, et cetera. I digress.
For the next twenty-four hours I sat in a hospital bed. Mostly bored except when two girlfriends and/or Sean was there visiting me. I truly feel for the women who are put on bed rest for weeks or months during their pregnancy. It is a miserable experience. There's only so much day time television that can be watched, only so much internet to surf, and only so much reading a person can do before they need to GET THE HELL OUT OF BED.
On the positive side, the nurses in the hospital (it's also the hospital I'll deliver at) were nice. Like, maybe the nicest nurses I've ever encountered. So, although labor is still a pretty intimidating thing for me to consider, it's nice to know I'll be helped through it with women like that.
There you have it: my blog-delaying drama. Everything's back to being normal again except I'm not allowed to work out, and I'm not allowed to have sex until baby comes. Actually, the doctor said he might let me use the recumbant bike a little each day, and he's gonna let me know about that tomorrow at my appointment. I miss walking and biking and yoga. Lack of exercise is no bueno for this woman. Endorphins: I needs them.
In other news, baby shower planning is in full swing methinks. Woot, woot. Sean and I even registed this weekend. But that's a post for another day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)