I'll start with that "other mother": OTHER[uhth-er]: 1. additional or further 2. different or distinct from the one mentioned or implied
3. different in nature or kind
4. being the remaining one of two or more
When I think of being a mother, the words "additional", "different" or "remaining" don't give me that warm, fuzzy feeling. But the alternative of "non-bio mother" sounds like a science experiment. It makes "other mother" sound pretty attractive.
On that note, I'll get to my real point. I feel helpless. Nickie's coming into the home stretch and feeling it. During the discomfort, shortness of breath, constipation, vurps, 'roids and cankles, I act as an empathetic witness. There's not a lot I can do but rub her feet and hope additional symptoms will pass so she'll feel better. I'm sure men go through this, feeling edgy and unsure. I have some secondary feelings of responsibility; it could have been me instead.
Since I'm the other mother and can't carry for her, I scramble to look for things to do or clean or buy to prep for the impending peanut. I'm happy to say it's made me very productive; we have a newly painted, carpeted, furnished nursery all set up. But now that everything is done, I'm twittling my thumbs in an attempt to repress my desire to online shop for baby clothes. I wish I could do more.
Whine, whine, whine.... Ok. I'm done. (I wouldn't be a woman if I couldn't find something to bitch about during the happiest time of our lives, right?)
Nickie's looking super cute. Here's her 28 week photo. We can see her belly move now when the baby whips out her Chuck Norris moves. Nugget and I have had some quality time when Nickie's sleeping. I like to think she acknowledges me, because she always gives a few good kicks when I put my hand on Nickie's belly in the morning before I get up for work.
I hate that the mono-feeling of the first trimester has reared her head again. I read that it would happen, but I'm only 29 weeks today, and I don't know if I can handle feeling like crap for the next 11 (hopefully less) weeks. Here I sit on the couch, with 3 wiener dogs piled on top of me and not even enough energy to kick them off. Good thing the fingers don't require much gusto to type.
Good news is I passed my glucose test with a 96. How wonderful. The organic grape juice alternative to drinking that bright orange chemical glucose "beverage" was quite lovely. I sucked that juice down in like 20 seconds after the lady who would be drawing my blood gave a dirty look because I didn't accept her drink. I love having a midwife, it's so much easier to be "less" traditional.
I also had a cbc drawn that day. It showed my hematocrit to be slightly less than optimal at 34 which could be why I am feeling so crappy. I am waiting for my Florodix iron supplement to arrive by mail. I am ultra excited that I found a pill form so I don't have to suck down a disgusting liquid every day. This is supposed to be a completely non-constipating form of iron and herbs. I hope it lives up to its claim because my intestines can't handle it.
On a better note, apparently I do pregnancy well. Maybe everybody I see is lying to my face, but all everyone keeps saying is how good and cute I look pregnant. Which is nice since I've been feeling like such crap lately. I had someone tell me that she wished I was pregnant all the time because I looked so adorable, I guess the extra 24 lbs has dispersed itself well. I also have the "pregnancy glow" because people tell me I do all the time, I just don't see it when I look in the mirror. I just think the ladies at my work aren't used to seeing a little pregnant dyke waddling around, I'm glad I can be a learning experience for everyone.
Wow, 30. I remember sitting on the picnic table in the middle of Simmons College residential quad chatting with my friend Lori about where I thought I'd be when I was the big 3-0. Ironically enough, I'm pretty much right where I wanted to be by this time. One of my goals was to find a nice lady who was cute and not crazy. Then I met Ros, check. Cute, smart, caring, adventurous... A total package. After we dated for 3 months and then moved to San Diego together (I know ,so lesbian, but so not me) I figured she was a keeper. When she proposed, I knew she was. Another goal of mine by the time I reached 30 was to have a baby. Here we are 7 months pregnant, and I think that's close enough. My life is going really well. Nice house, 2 great dogs, wonderful wife, baby on the way, I really can't ask for anything else.
My birthday was fun... Well most of it anyway. The plan for the day was to take a trip to NYC with Ros's work to go and see the yearly Gala performance. Since Ros is the nurse of the year at her school she had to attend just in case someone passed out again like they did 2 years ago. We started our adventure around 12:30. The drive to NY wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected. I did prepare, packing snacks, water, pillows, and most importantly applying the TEDS to my lower half. I read, ate, and listened to the IPod, peed in the bus bathroom once, and before I knew it we were there. When we got there we went for a nice stroll through some of Central Park since I just needed to walk after sitting down for almost 4 hours. Then we met up with the kids to check on them, Ros handed out 2 band aids, and then we were off to meet my friend Gerri for dinner. Nothing makes you feel older on your 30th birthday than catching up with someone you haven't seen in 7 years. Really makes you think about all the time that has gone by. Then we were off to the show. The show was nice and all the kids did a great job. After that it was time to go. Time to get on that bus again for the 4 hour trip home. Word to the wise for anyone 7 months pregnant, or any amount of pregnant for that matter, don't ever plan on traveling on a bus for 8 hours. The last 4 hours of the trip were miserable. I couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't recline the seat because it made my back hurt, I couldn't elevate my legs because the seat had a weird bump in it. I had restless legs and felt as though my feet were going to explode. I couldn't read because the overhead lights didn't work. I couldn't talk to Ros because she could sleep through a war on a bed of nails and was passed out. I just sat there, watching the lights on the highway go by, becoming more and more agitated as the minutes ticked. I finally became tired enough to close my eyes and slept for the last 45 minutes of the trip. I will NEVER do that again. No more road trips for this pregger. I thought we might make it to PTown over Memorial Day weekend for at least a night, but the thought of that 3 hour car ride is already making me nauseated. We'll have to see about that.
On a better note, Ros and I had a great day together yesterday. I was nice and rested from staying in bed until noon. We went for a nice leisurely walk in the woods with the dogs. After that a trip to IKEA was in order where we enjoyed Swedish meatballs but were bummed that their lingonberry juice was out of order. Now our nursery is almost complete as we found some nice curtains for the closet and window, a new floor lamp, and some other cutsie baby things. If there is one thing Ros and I know how to do, it is spend money. We're definitely going to have to slow down once the Nugget arrives or else I'm going to have to get a second job. We will post some pics of the nursery as soon as we take some.
All in all, being 30 isn't as dreadful as I thought it would be. The world did not end and I did not shrivel up into a bitter old prune. I think with all the excitement of being pregnant, I've sort of forgot about the fact that this year was the dreaded birthday. So thank you Nugget for helping take my mind off of things. And thank you wifey for the best birthday present a pregnant chick could ask for, 4 prenatal massages, just what the doctor ordered.
I totally woke up today at 8am with the hungry horrors. This wouldn't be that bad except I have to work all this weekend and need to get as much sleep as possible. I laid there for a few contemplating if I should get up and eat something or if I could ride out the pangs and get a couple more hours of sleep. With my stomach growling I reluctantly got up to make myself a piece of toast with PB and J and a small glass of milk. Luckily that held me over so I could sleep until 11 and then have my lunch at noon.
The horrors haven't disappeared yet. As I sit here at work, I just ate 5 Ritz crackers with PB and had a small glass of milk. Of course this is in addition to the apple, mozzarella stick, and "fun-sized" snickers that I've already consumed, and I've only been here for 3.5 hours. Great, I can see how this night is going to go.
I've been trying not to stress out about my weight too bad. Although stepping on that scale sometimes causes slight palpitations. I know I'll drop it all, but I've already gained 22 lbs and I still have 12 weeks to go.
All I have to say is hello 3rd trimester. Happy to see you. Now we can spend the next 12 weeks (or hopefully less and no more) fattening the Nugget up. Hopefully she can keep her weight in check while she's cooking, because although I believe I can be successful in my natural birth, if we are talking a 10 pounder, we may have to reconsider.
P.S. while writing this post I came to the realization that I need steak tips. So I just placed an order to a local restaurant so I can get my daily fix of meat (maybe I need the iron?)... This is ridiculous.