My prediction

Ya know how hockey season seems to last FOREVER? Same with baseball.

Did you know that pregnancy season is longer than both baseball and hockey seasons? Craziness. Forty weeks times 7 days in a week...so that's 280 days. I'm not one to nitpick when it comes to people spreading misinformation (unless it's the hubby and he touches upon my further/farther pet peeve), but I will correct a complete stranger dressed in a black face mask and wielding an ax who says something about pregnancy lasting only 9 months. No, dearie. It's 10. Lots of times it's 10+.

Okay, so I just now couldn't resist googling how long a pregnancy is, and it turns out that it's a little more complicated than 40 x 7...but for the sake of argument...wait...you never argue with a pregnant woman, so never you mind! :P

Anyways, back to the title of this blog entry: My prediction. My "official" due date is March 5th. I've always felt this was too early (even I won't go into the TMI required to explain the reasons behind my feelings on that!). I know I said a few weeks ago that I thought I'd be early. I think I was under the influence of some strong wishful thinking. I am now predicting March 15th.

I told Chris my prediction today. His response: "I don't know if you can last that long!" I guess living with me right now isn't a day at the amusement park!

Some trivia that makes me feel better: The African elephant is pregnant for 660-760 days.


I dunno. I think I might have some African elephant in me 'cause that ass looks a lot like mine right now.

My little Diva

I filmed this tonight at dinner. She was singing a Yo Gabba Gabba song with the lyrics "Try it, you'll like it," which is all about trying new foods (ironic considering that Raina is the pickiest eater ever and hardly ever deviates from her short list of 5 eatable foods). Anyways, I asked her if she would sing for the camera, and this is what happened:

In case you didn't catch that, she says "My all done!" She has this thing about the word "my." She'll use it in place of "I" or "I'm"...another popular one with her right now is "No my doesn't," as in my asking "Raina, will you pick up your toys?" and her responding with "No my doesn't." It gets her point across :)

And yah, I'm still pregnant.

Sending facebook a big fat middle finger

EFF YOU, facebook.

That's 2 accounts suspended in less than a week. I can see that maybe you had reason for the first account if you believe that treating the victim like the criminal is the way to deal with things. You had no reason for the second account.

EFF YOU.

V-Day

So Chris and I went on a Valentine's Day date this evening. Neither of us can remember doing the V-day date thing before...though we both feel that we should have at some point in our 12-year togetherness history. (Holy crap, 12 years!) Chris had made reservations at a local Indian restaurant that was having a special for couples' dinners and a live belly dance performance. We couldn't have done it had it not been for our babysitter, wonderful Aunt Emily, whom Raina just adores. For some reason, she really looks forward to jumping with Aunt Emily. Here they are having dinner before we left (and by dinner, I mean Raina pretty much only eating her jello, which you can see on her face).


Dinner was yummy, and the performances were good, too, though both Chris and I prefer our belly dancers to be a little softer...you could see the ribs on the chicks who performed tonight. Right towards the end of dinner, I started to feel totally weird. Don't know how else to describe it. My restless legs kicked in big time, along with a headache, and I just felt like I had to get out of there AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!!! It was a horrible feeling, a crappy way to end the date, but oh well.

Ya wanna know the best part of my evening? I know this may sound incredibly selfish and vain, but I'm just being honest. After showering and getting put together, I came downstairs to find Chris and Raina playing in the living room. Raina looked up from her toy, stared at me, and gushed "Va-Va, you're so pretty!" Had I not been wearing mascara, I would have allowed the tears to come out :) I certainly never feel pretty lately...I feel like I look like a bloated manatee...so it was super nice to hear that from my little girl. Here's the happy couple:



On a completely unrelated note, Facebook has disabled my account. I feel completely lost and alone...it was my primary way of staying in touch with real people and feeling connected to the outside world. I'm not going to get into it now. I'm going to give Facebook a week or two to reinstate my account. If they don't, I guess I'll create a new one. What a pain in the arse...but something will be better than nothing.

That's all for now...

Stop the presses...we've gone crunchy

Not quite granola bar crunchy. Maybe more like oatmeal cookie crunchy. Perhaps gluten-free :)

It's official: Not only do I have a doula, but I also have a midwife. What the heck is a doula and midwife, you might ask? (and don't feel stupid...lots of people don't know :)

Taken right from a DONA International handout given to me by my doula, a doula is defined as: "...a trained and experienced labor companion who provides the woman and her husband or partner continuous emotional support, physical comfort, and assistance in obtaining information before, during, and just after childbirth." Go here to check out my doula(s): http://www.blessedarrivals.com/about.asp

I decided to pursue the doula thing after feeling completely overwhelmed and defeated when it came to dealing with my OBs and their attitudes towards V-BACs (you're on your own for research if you don't know what a V-BAC is...I'm trying to stay in my happy place and that involves not typing the word vagina or any of its derivations). After coming to the understanding that a doula is not a medical practitioner or someone who "interferes" with the doctors in any way, Chris was 100% on board. Kinda funny to think now that we both then said something to the effect of "It's not like we're doing the midwife thing!" Ha! Fast-forward to a few days ago when my doula told me about a very V-BAC-friendly midwife who'd be willing to take me on so very late in the game.

For the first time during this entire pregnancy, I actually got giddy and excited about the birthing experience that I could possibly be able to have...to be able to go into the experience without the battle armor needed (in my head) to deal with the OBs. Chris was wary. I knew he would be. He likes the idea of The Medical Degree, which midwives do not have. I'd like to state for the record that I did not pressure him in any way. I flat out told him that of course I would like to go the midwife route, but the last thing I wanted to do was make him even more uncomfortable than he already is (he's nervous about the V-BAC). I was fine with doing the doula/OB way. I'm not quite sure what tipped the scales in my favor, but he agreed to pursue the midwife.

What's a midwife, right? I took this from babycenter.com: "Certified nurse-midwives (CNMs) provide a full range of primary healthcare services to women in the United States, including routine gynecological checkups, family planning services, preconception care, prenatal and postpartum care, and, of course, delivering babies. They attend births mostly in hospitals, but also in birth centers and private homes. Certified nurse-midwives are trained in both nursing and midwifery and are certified by the American College of Nurse-Midwives (ACNM). To be certified, a CNM must be formally educated in midwifery through an accredited program affiliated with an institution of higher learning, demonstrate clinical competence, and pass a rigorous national certifying exam. CNMs are licensed to practice in all 50 states and the District of Columbia."

So, here's the deal. I'm still going to the hospital (Magee for all you curious Pittsburgh folk, not West Penn like last time). My midwife will stay with me throughout my entire labor, and should any "problems" come up that require more intense medical attention, the high-risk team of OBs at the hospital will be there to assist.

We met with the midwife today. He's a dude, which I understand makes some people do a double-take. Go here if you wanna check him out: http://www.mrmidwife.org/index.html. He immediately scored points for having toys in his office for Raina to play with. A little thing...yet a big thing. He basically just made himself available to answer any questions or concerns we had, I filled out a lot of medical history paperwork, and then he did a very brief exam (weight, BP, listening to baby's HR). I have weekly appointments with him from here on out, and I'm also supposed to see the high-risk OB team at the hospital (the soonest they can see me is Feb. 25th...we'll see if I last that long :)

I'm saying YAY! I don't know if Chris is saying "yay!"...he's probably saying "Yay, Jess is happy," but I understand that this probably increases his anxiety a bit. I do have to give him major props, however...the boy was on a Mission this morning to make sure we got to the appointment. We got even more snow, and he was out there before 8 a.m. this morning with the snowblower. He got us to Squirrel Hill safe and sound and 45 minutes early. That's my man :)

Now that we have all this in place and the snow is supposed to let up, you can bet your booty that I'm going to start experimenting with some, um, do-it-yourself (or with a partner!) "induction" techniques. I'm READY!

(and if Phoebe comes out wearing this, we know why ;)

OMG, get this thing out of me

I need to vent. If you can't stand another complaining post, leave now and instead watch the evening news forecast another 6-10 inches on top of the 21 sitting outside as it is. OMG.

Was it this bad when I was pregnant with Raina??? I don't remember. At that time I was doing the myspace blog...maybe I should go back and read it...

I'm ready to give birth now. Now as in NOW...well, up until noon tomorrow and then I would ask that it hold off until maybe Thursday. Stupid snow.

You'd think my uterus was training for the Birthing Olympics. OMG, the Braxton-Hicks contractions are driving me INSANE. I've had them since very early on, like late 1st trimester, but these past couple days have been hell. They're to the point where I can't move when they come on. If I'm walking, I either have to stop or move in extreme slow-mo. I can't bend over. I can't talk normally or breathe normally for that matter. I feel like I'm gonna pee my pants. My belly gets so hard that I feel as though it's gonna pull a super hero move and tear open the front of my shirt. They wake me up during the few precious moments I'm able to sleep.

And I also have a 2-year-old who just doesn't understand why her Va-Va isn't playing with her like she used to. Pixar is replacing her as her best friend. Well, no, that's not true. Daddy is still Raina's best friend...then Pixar...then me.

And on top of all that, Phoebe-to-be has been moving nonstop. I can definitely feel a difference between her position and Raina's breech position. Phoebe is definitely head down...and definitely wishing she could add a few more square feet to her efficiency apartment. When she stretches, it feels like she's gonna break through. Several times tonight I clenched my fists and thought "Here it comes, here it comes, my water's GOTTA break with that one!" Obviously no such luck. Also, she won't let me slouch...I have to either stand up straight, sit very erect, or lay down on my side.

OMG, I could go on, I really could. I'll end the negativity by saying that I'm pretty sure Chris will get his wish of stopping at two. I have no love for being pregnant. I don't think I want to do it again.

I'm gonna end on a positive note...kinda. How 'bout a list of things I look forward to experiencing once this parasite leaves its host?....

• Sleeping on my tummy. For Christmas, Chris bought me the same pillows that I fell in love with at Disney (close to $100, I think!). They're perfect for tummy sleepers and I have yet to be able to use them in that way. I CAN'T WAIT!

• Having more than 40% of my body submerged during relaxing bubble baths. In order to cover everything that doesn't fit in the water now, I'd need to place a wet beach towel on top of myself. Beach towel, people; not wash cloth.

• Glowing complexion. I'm only (optimistically) assuming things will go the same way they did the first time around. Beginning about 3 days after Raina's birth and lasting a glorious 4 months after that, I had the most wonderful skin. No make-up needed...which was AWESOME considering I had no time for such frivolity and I'm assuming I'll have even less this time around.
  

• Decreased night-time peeing, going down from my current every-45-minutes schedule to my usual 2-or-3-times-a-night routine.
  

• Sleeping again. Not that my sleep in an un-pregnant state is very good...it's not...it's just better than what it is when I'm pregnant.

• The end of the restless legs. OMG, please let it end.

• Getting my body back. I can't tell you how excited I am about starting bootcamp this spring!

• Seeing my long-distance friends again. I'm the luckiest gal in the world when it comes to having the best husband. I have no doubt that he'll be super supportive in my taking weekends off here and there to visit my girls.

I'll stop there. I'm sure there's more, but I have to pee. Of course.

A tip for overly emotional pregnant chicks

Do not schedule a vet appointment for late in the evening, like an hour before they close. Turns out this is the time they do a lot of their put-downs. So, while you're sitting there with your kitty who's STILL sick, waiting to get her weekly B-12 shot that seems like a waste of time treatment-wise, and trying to keep back your own tears because of an ongoing disagreement you seem to be having with the world, it is very likely that you will be subjected to the scene of a distraught lady coming in and explaining that her 14-year-old greyhound is outside, unable to walk by itself, and needs assistance to come in and get put down. Like this isn't bad enough...but then on your way out to the car, you happen to see the poor greyhound huddled on the cold ground, surrounded by its older caretakers who are obviously torn apart by what will be happening to them all in the next several moments, and you are then tasked with silencing your overwhelming sobs as you load your own getting-worse/not-better pet into the car so that you can drive home to continue your own stupid fight with the rest of the world...

...and the next thing you know, it'll be 1:30 in the morning and you are unable to get the image of that beautiful, broken greyhound out of your head and the waterfall will start all over again.

Damn you, world.