So, here I am, beginning to write this post at 2:45 am. I'm not sure if it was the Mt. Dew that I drank at 7:00pm or just Kiddo's way of preparing me for many late nights/early mornings, but I might as well be productive and update this blog, right? Here's the 36 week 411:
"Your baby is gaining about an ounce a day. She now weighs almost 6 pounds (like a crenshaw melon) and is more than 18 1/2 inches long. She's shedding most of the downy hair that covered her body, as well as the vernix caseosa, the waxy substance that protected her skin during her nine-month amniotic bath. Next week, your baby will be considered full-term. Most likely she's in a head-down position, but if she isn't, your practitioner may suggest scheduling an external cephalic version, where she'll try to turn your baby by manipulating her from the outside of your belly." Author's side note: what the deuce is a crenshaw melon? Stop calling my baby fruits I don't know...
What's really going on with me you ask? Let's chat for a moment shall we? Aaron and I have officially finished our prenatal classes. We've run the full gamut from what to expect in labor, to how not to hold your infant and check if they are sick, how to provide nommys via my chesticles, and now we've taken "postpartum adjustments." This last class was kind of nice because they brought in parents of a 2 month, 3 month, and 4 month old (with their actual pooping, screaming children even) and we got to ask questions. I had NO CLUE what to ask, I just wanted them to talk and for me to absorb their every word. I learned some rather explicit information about the days-weeks after birth for me that I have to say I'm not looking forward to living through, but I guess many women have survived it and even gone on to have more children, so it must be tolerable. I practically laughed my ass off when I saw the "pink products" the hospital will provide post birth for my personal use: they are the size of a small car! And somehow I'm supposed to fit them inside these mesh panty thingys, along with some ice packs for my poor booty region. I'm predicting a very pronounced waddle that will define my gait once I manage to combine all these items with pants and shoes.
I had a doctor appointment today, my last bi-weekly visit and met the final practitioner in my office. She seemed really sweet, until...
I had to have the Group B Strep culture taken. Now, I'm not naive, I knew this was coming and researched what it involved. In fact, I first heard about this joyous event in my birthing class when a young African American girl loudly announced that she got her "butt swabbed" while her friend/birthing partner cackled next to her (the same friend who I later caught shaving her armpits in the bathroom while we were on break, though I don't know if I shared that story). Our instructor mentioned that the test was important to do later in the pregnancy because if you do carry GBS, you must receive antibiotics via IV during delivery to prevent passing it to your child. It doesn't usually affect adults, but can really cause havoc for the baby. Back to the original narrative though:
My nurse came in to take my bp, which was a little high again, but that was after she reminded me about the test. I also have just started the school year and had to leave mid-school day to have this appointment while stressing out over the return of an admin placement, blah, blah, blah. In other words, adding to new school year stress by reminding me you're planning to boldly go where no one has gone before won't result in a calm, collected Valerie. I also had a huge weight jump this time: 6 pounds in two weeks! Are you kidding me? That's 3 pounds more than my scale at home says! All I'd had prior to the appointment was a handful of frosted mini-wheats, 6 pringles, and 32 oz of water! Geez! (I'm guessing it was the water that did it, since I did chug all 32 oz before the appointment to ensure I had a nice "sample" for them and my weight is once again lower here at home.)
In walks my doctor, 20 minutes after my bp test. I've had to disrobe from the waste down and cover my booty with this little sheet. The nurse had been kind enough to put down a little pink paper towel for my butt, but let's chat about that. I know it's supposed to make it more...I really don't know I guess. Comfortable? Hygenic? Pretty? All that happened was that my naked butt under a sheet on a vinyl padded table started to sweat and that result of that is one piece of pretty pink SHREDDED paper towel. So doc is in the room with me and asks the typical questions: is he moving (all the time), any issues (raging heartburn), any questions (not at this moment, can we cut to the chase here and get the little culture taken?). Then she measures my belly, which she said was something like 38 inches and "right on" for where I should be. Kiddo's heart was a-pounding away in his usual 140s, which is nice and healthy. Then she grabs the little swab for the culture. Up until this moment, I hadn't really minded being half-dressed and prodded and may have even gone so far as to say I was enjoying meeting and chatting with this doctor. As she collected the necessary culture, I learned how severely looks can deceive. Spoiler alert: this doesn't go well for me and all men and squeamish women may just want to skip down a bit further. Prepare for an overshare the size of Texas:
The little swab felt like someone was trying to wedge a dry freaking tampon up my lady parts! Seriously?!?! How big was that thing?!?!?! On a scale of 1 to huge, I'll give it a "did you just try to put a rusty VW Beetle in my crotch?" I'm sure this is one of those parts of pregnancy I'll forget, but geez! I was so surprised by the vag violation, I don't even really recall how my poor booty felt about the situation. Then doc tells me she's going to check my cervix and that can be a little uncomfortable. THAT will be uncomfortable? Where was the warning on the GBS test? Having my cervix checked felt like a beach holiday after the trauma of the previous activity.
Doc told me I wasn't even really dilated enough for her to tell if Kiddo was head up or down. At this point in the pregnancy, we want his tiny tootsies pointed at the sky. Because she couldn't be certain, she scheduled an ultrasound for next week. Because they don't do ultrasounds on Fridays, that means I have TWO doctor's appointments next week, both during the school day. Let's see what THAT does to my bp! I asked if I needed to do anything for my elevated bp, but doc said she'd just have the nurse take it again before I left and have me lay on my left side for it. She left and I got dressed. The little pink paper towel was in about six pieces, so I carefully gathered them all together and tossed them in the trash. I waited for the nurse to come for my bp, but didn't know I was supposed to lie down while I waited for her. Oops! She took my bp again, but it was still high so she wanted me to lay down. I asked if I could go pee first (32 oz of water people), since perhaps the stress of needing to pee so badly was causing my elevated bp. After my GBS test, I was shocked by home much it hurt to pee! I think the doctor completely missed my vag and dove into my pee hole instead! Maybe that's why the cotton swab from hell felt so large! Anywho, I went back and laid down for 10 minutes or so and my bp dropped precipitously, therefore enabling my escape from the office. So there you have it. If you're still reading and you're a woman, you can INDEED survive a GBS test and live to laugh about it.
Let's address another issue that's been plaguing me of late: forgetfulness. I'd heard that this happens during pregnancy, but I hadn't really experienced much until the last few weeks or so. Mom is in town this weekend, attending the Stork Affair with me, bringing us a new(er) couch and chairs for our table, buying wedding snacks at Costco, etc. We decided to hit Costco tonight to save us time tomorrow (wait, it's Saturday morning right now, isn't it? You work it out...) We wandered around and gathered goodies, and then headed to the checkout. After we paid, I started digging through my purse for my keys. Well, guess what I couldn't find! I knew immediately that they were locked in my car. Man I was mad, especially when I couldn't locate my spare key ANYWHERE in my purse! I called AAA and they said it'd be about 45 minutes. That's not a terrible wait really. Mom and I wheeled out to the car to wait since it was nice enough outside to do so. We chatted while we waited and I expressed how crappy it was to be so forgetful lately (seriously, if I don't write it down or say it immediately when I have the thought, I'll forget it). Mom asked to check my purse again for the spare that I once upon a time kept inside (I'd dumped the contents on to a germ-laden table inside Costco once already). I was fairly adamant that it wouldn't make a bit of difference since I'd already looked, but she insisted. I was rattling on and on about how I used to keep a spare on me at all times and I'd kept it in a small-zippered-pocket-but-that-must-have-been-my-old-purse-and-now-that-I-think-of-it-the-spare-may-be-on-the-hook-by-the-garage-door-at-home-and-a-fat-lot-of-good-it-does-me-there-and-I-hope-they-come-to-unlock-the-door-soon-because-I-don't-want-the-chicken-to-thaw-of-the-pasta-to-get-too-warm...
Mom found the exact zippered pouch that I had mentioned and my spare key was in it. DOY! I'm not sure how I missed a HUGE zippered pocket with a smaller zippered pocket inside when my purse is as small as it is, but yes I did. I apologized to Mom for being such a B-word about her looking through my purse and called AAA to cancel the help request. I lied and said my husband brought my spare, rather than attempting to explain to the helpful helper that my placenta has caused all blood to flow away from my brain. The craziest part is that any other day, I would have forgotten to lock my doors and there wouldn't have been a problem, since I seem to forget to do that a lot lately. Wow! I have a Master's degree in Educational Leadership; no wonder no one wants to hire me to help lead a school.
Let's mention something good and fun from the last week now shall we? My former roommate and awesomest friend Stephanie got married last weekend! Having lived with her for two years and had many deep and fart-filled conversations with her, I wasn't sure that marriage was something she wanted when we were in college. Whether it seemed too restrictive or whatever, it just didn't seem to be something she was comfortable with and I really loved that about her; I think it was through these chats that she helped foster my own feminist side, because I had previously held the belief that I wouldn't amount to much until I was a wife. I have to thank Stephanie because I have been able to move beyond that way of thinking now. Yes, I'm married and very happily so, expecting my first child and thrilled with my life, but I think Stephy taught me that it is ok to be myself and have my own thoughts and ideas and that ruffling feathers or going against the grain is a better, smarter way to live. I'm really hoping that all of this is coming off heartfelt because I mean it so deeply and don't want this to be construed as negative or judgmental. Steph is just this amazing, go-getter lady who is always looking to do something good and I swear never takes time to just quietly exist in a space. Everyone knows her and everyone LOVES THE HELL OUT OF HER. I've watched her grow a lot though in the last few years and when she told me she was getting married, it didn't seem like a weird thing; it seemed very right, like the pieces of a jumbled puzzle had been laid in place. Stephy will always be Stephy, but seeing her get married last weekend brought tears to my eyes. There is no way I would have missed this day, pregnancy-shmegnancy!
The day started off pretty nasty though, with this intense storm in the morning. But it cleared off by the afternoon and during the pictures. I spent the morning in the salon with the girls, a baby shower gift from Kathryn. I LOVED my hair, but really, that whole time in the salon was about being with these amazing women! HOW THE HELL was I fortunate enough the meet these ladies? How have I managed to somehow count myself among their ranks? I'll never really understand it, but I don't want to. They are all just amazing! We got ready at the salon too so that we could just run back to the hotel to eat and then go get photos. It was a great day, a beautiful and touching ceremony, and an awesome party! To Stephanie and Ryan, I wish you more happiness, love, and laughter than you can fit into your lifetimes. Stay you, eat well, and love life!
Here are some hijacked photos of the day for your viewing pleasure. (Photo credits is Rislow and Gabster!)
...I've been trying to upload the photos unsuccessfully, so I'll try to post them later. Woot for potential multiple updates!
No comments:
Post a Comment