Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Betcha Can't Guess What THIS Post Will Be About.

So, over the last month or two (or three) I've had a post that I've randomly been working on, and clearly haven't been actually finishing.  I was trying to make it about all the life things, and not just about all the pregnancy things.  But as I was writing it, it pretty much all just ended up being about pregnancy/baby things.  So, because I barely have the brain capacity to think up things that are happening outside growing a baby, that's pretty much all this post will be about.  So, if that annoys you, you can just go ahead and skip this one.  And probably the next 3, let's be honest.

(Oh, and if you really don't care to read about symptoms, chatchie waxes, or baby showers and just want the most recent update - skip to #12.)

Remember how I told you about the super pretty zit garden I'm growing all over my body?  Guys, it's bad.  I'm pretty sure if you played a game of connect-the-zits, you'd get a perfect picture of Satan himself.  I really just don't think I can even adequately explain to you how horrifying it is.  You want to know who could tell you all about it though?  My husband.  Every night this guy gets way up close and personal with all those little suckers and pops them.  (And by up close and personal, I mean this guy has popped ass crack zits.  Because of course that has to be a thing.)  

He does this every. Single. Night.  (Well, not the ass zit part, but, you know.)

My favorite part is that he doesn't even kind of complain about it.  Well that, and he doesn't shriek in horror every time I take off my shirt.  Instead he just looks at my back and says, "Challenge accepted."  And goes to town.  I'm sure his favorite part is when I scream at him for hurting me when he pops a doozy.  Wife points.

Because Shawn babooning my zit-infested body isn't nearly fun enough for our marriage, pregnancy was like, "Hey, let's make you snore like a damn grizzly bear too!"  Admittedly, I've had my snoring moments pre-pregnancy, but it was never nearly as bad as it is now - at least according to Shawn, who is the lightest sleeper on planet Earth.  (Seriously though.  I could fart in my sleep and it'd wake him up.  Not that that's ever happened.  Because, you know, I'm a lady.)  

Anyways, my snores start out smaller then they build up to a grand finale, climax snore that usually ends up waking me up too - so then I'll stop for a second, and then the build up begins after I've fallen asleep again.  You know, a little something (or exactly) like this:

Yeah, I know.  That's what the poor guy has to deal with on a nightly basis.  This was actually recorded several weeks ago, and apparently it's gotten even worse - to the point where the people living in our basement can sometimes hear me.  (Because that isn't the most mortifying thing in the whole entire world.)  I tried making the case to Shawn that my snores wake me up too, so it wasn't only him that was suffering.  To which he responded, "Yeah, you wake up on your climax snore.  I was awake 11 snores before that one."

Usually when my snores would wake him up, he'd just reach over and touch me and I'd stop - but it started getting to the point where he was reaching over and touching me 800 million times a night, and I started getting super irritated that he was waking me up.  How dare him, right?  There was even one Sunday afternoon, where we were laying in bed and he was playing Candy Crush, and I had fallen asleep and, as usual, started snoring again.  But apparently my snoring was interrupting his Candy Crush game, so dude started snapping every time I'd snore.  Go ahead and start snapping at a 34 week pregnant lady trying to sleep, see how that turns out for you.

Anyways, we both started getting so frustrated at night that I finally bought him a giant pack of ear plugs.  And even though I sometimes manage to penetrate the barrier of silence they provide, they seem to do the trick.  We're still both hoping that as soon as this kid is born, it won't be much of an issue anymore.  Though, at that point, it'll probably be screaming that'll wake us up instead of snoring.  Wee!

Speaking of things that wake me up at night, who knew Carpal Tunnel was a thing during pregnancy?  Because I sure as crap didn't.  One night I woke up with a completely dead/tingly hand, and I had to sit there and shake my hands like a moron to get it to go away.  Usually I'll sleep with my hand under my head or my pillow - but I've had to train myself not to do that anymore, because these days it'll instantly put both my hands to sleep.  I'll wake up and it'll hurt to bend my fingers - it's the most bizarre thing ever.  As I've gotten further along, my hands have started to randomly just go tingly/numb just sitting there - so, you can imagine the looks I get when I randomly start shaking both my hands in the air.  And yes, I've heard wrist braces help.  I got one to try on my right hand the other day - because it's worse on that side - and I'm pretty sure the brace made it fall asleep even more while I was sleeping.  Sooo, we'll have to work on that.

So, swelling is fun.  And by that, I mean it's effing awful.  Towards the beginning of my third trimester, I stopped wearing my wedding ring - not because my hands were overly puffy, but mostly because I'd get super hot really quickly, and it would just make it harder to get my ring off.  And then I'd hear horror stories of women having to get their wedding rings cut off their freaking hand, so of course I was instantly paranoid that my ring would be permanently stuck on my finger.  Not that wearing my wedding ring forever is a bad thing, obviously - but, you know, I'd at least like the option of taking it off.

Up until that point, my feet and ankles hadn't really swollen at all - so I thought that it was just my wedding ring I'd have to sacrifice for the rest of my pregnancy.  That is, until I tried zipping up a pair of hooker boots around 34 weeks and quickly realized those bad boys were not going to zip up all the way.  And this was why:

And that was two weeks ago (which is apparently when things started getting really uncomfortable).  As if my feet weren't already man-ish enough to begin with, now my calf is  folding into my damn foot.  My ankles are gone.  Flip flops barely even fit anymore - and when I wear them, my foot starts eating them alive.  Guys, my foot puff jiggles when I walk.  IT JIGGLES.  I had a doctor appointment the other day, and the first thing the nurse said to me was, "Ah, looks like your feet are retaining some water."  YOU DON'T EFFING SAY.  So yeah, painful ogre-feet - that's a thing.  All I have to say (again), is it's a good thing I have this guy around:

I've mentioned before that heartburn is something I've never experienced until I was pregnant.  You know, when I started choking on my own stomach acid during a nap.  Well, that has definitely not gone away.  Tums were working pretty okay for me towards the beginning of all the heartburn/acid reflux, but as this kid has grown bigger and shoved more food back up my throat, Tums have become somewhat less effective .  I finally discovered Zantac - which was a Godsend, seriously.  These days, I'll usually just take one at night before I go to bed, then I'll sit up in bed for about a half hour before I can finally lay down without feeling like I'm going to choke to death.  So, that's fun.

#1-5 are pretty much the main "symptoms" I've been having that people tend to ask about.  Obviously you have all the other stuff that goes with most pregnancies.  Being super tired.  Waddling.  Not being able to bend over.  Not being able to wipe your ass.  Crying.  Nesting.  Leaking boobs.  Leaking 'gina.  Taking 5 minutes to roll over in bed.  Weight gain.  Having baby feet in your ribs.  You know, the works.  But even as non-glamorous as pregnancy can be, I really can't complain that much.  (She says, after 5 bullets of complaining.)  This pregnancy has been pretty easy-breezy, comparatively speaking.  Granted, I think my tolerance of what I'm willing to put up with to actually have a baby may be different than other women.  But I am aware that I could be going through much worse things right now - and that all the things I've mentioned will all be worth it in the end.

I passed the glucose test and I could not be any more thrilled about it.  I had been stressing about it for weeeeeeks.  And usually, for most people, it's not even a huge deal.  But with both my parents and brother being Diabetic and then having PCOS on top of that - my risk for getting Gestational Diabetes was crazy high.  My parents let me borrow one of their glucometers so I could track my blood sugar every so often after I ate (like the good little hypochondriac that I am), just to make sure all those donuts weren't spiking my blood sugar to 700.  

I even took the glucometer with me to the lab to try and cheat and see if I'd be okay.  That was a bad idea.  I drank the drink (which, by the way, isn't nearly as awful as a lot of women make it sound - yeah, it's not something I'd ever drink by choice, but it wasn't thaaat traumatizing) and then about 5-10 minutes before they were supposed to draw my blood, I took my own blood sugar and it was way higher than I wanted it to be.  So I sat there practically having an anxiety attack until they finally called me back.  They were running a little behind and then had a hard time finding a vein to draw the blood from.  (She had finally found a vein and started drawing blood and looked at me and said, "Is this pinching you at all?" And I was like, "Oh, a little.  But it's fine." And she immediately took the needle out and said, well I don't want to hurt you! Let's try getting it from your hand.  BECAUSE THAT'S BETTER.)  Anyways, I don't know if it was the few extra minutes beyond the hour mark that made the difference, or what.  But my blood sugar level was totally normal.  To celebrate, I went home and ate a brownie.  Suck it, GD.

We finally bought a crib.  And a closet.  And a recliner/rocking chair.  And a stroller.  And a carseat.  This was before I had all my showers.  It felt so good to finally start getting stuff for this kid - and made it feel totally real.  (As if a human moving around in my uterus wasn't already making it real enough.)  I was getting really panicked that we didn't have anything for him.  Everyone kept telling me that I'd feel a lot better after my showers (which is totally true), but, at the time, I was freaking out.

We ended up getting a cute little white crib.  (Which the FedEx man so kindly left in the pouring rain on my doorstep and drove off as he saw my pregnant self trying to haul it into my house without breaking my back.  Thanks for that, asshole.)  As I sat in my rocking chair watching Shawn put it together, I totally boobed out.  He was putting together a crib.  For our baby.  *Sniff*

That's the finished product - nice and simple.  We still need to move some office furniture out of that room, which is why it's just crammed in a corner for now.

Then, after talking to some people and reading reviews, I had decided which travel system I wanted back when I was registering for stuff.  Naturally when it came down to buy one, I completely changed my mind and went with a totally different brand.  (So, you can't really blame me for not being able to choose my kid's name in advance - I can't even decide on a stroller, for crying out loud.)  Anyways, the system came in the mail - and luckily Shawn was home to haul it inside for me this time.  He left for work, and I couldn't even contain myself and started ripping the box open so I could play with the stuff.  As I was taking all the stuff out of the box, I noticed that my shirt was wet.  Apparently I was so excited that my boobs started leaking.  I guess I'm not the only one excited about this baby.

I'm finally done with all my showers - and by all, I mean I had 5 of them.  We are incredibly blessed with some amazing friends and family that all showed up to support us and this kid.  And even just after the first shower, I felt so much more prepared for baby to be here.  The picture I have doesn't quite do justice to all the stuff we got.  So, for comparison's sake, this is baby's closet before any of the showers happened:

Aaand, this is obviously after the showers:

Amazing, right?  It's all just kind of crammed in there right now - needless to say, we have a little organizing to do.  And that's not even including all the crap we had piled in the crib:

(I've since covered up that baby's face - because it gave me a heart attack just about every time I'd walk into the room.)

So, for those of you who planned and attended these showers - thank you.  Seriously.  We were completely overwhelmed by everyone's generosity and feel so lucky to have such amazing friends and family.

A couple weeks ago I finally decided that I should probably get my lady waxed, so my son wouldn't have to trek through a damn forest on his way out my 'gina.  Let's just say it had been a while.  I tried to trim up a little before getting there, just so it wouldn't be as horrifying - but I quickly figured out that, well, I can't see down there.  I tried using a mirror instead and gave up quickly when I realized that I was probably going to cut my vagina off.

Anyways, I finally get there and she starts doing her thing - and boy howdy, it did not feel good.  I was instantly sweating up a storm trying to maintain my composure and not worry that a screaming infant was going to come ripping out my chatchie with one of the wax strips.  Then she starts telling me about all the pregnant women she has waxed that have gone into labor within 6 hours to a day of getting waxed.  Lovely.  I was sweating so bad by this point, that I could barely even keep a good grip on my ass cheek for her to wax, you know, there.  Once again I was sure I was going to drop my big old cheek on the other one and they'd be glued together for eternity.

(On a semi-related note: I'm not sure how I feel about crack waxes.  I understand it makes your butt crack...  prettier?  But who the hell even cares, or will notice, for that matter?  It makes your farts louder, because there isn't a buffer of hair to soften the ass clapping.  So hiding farts is pretty much impossible.  I guess all I'm saying is I think God knew what he was doing when he put hair there.  Thatisall.)

After my waxer was done with my baby maker, she moved on to my thighs - which was super fun.  Usually I'll just lay on my stomach so she can do the back of them, but that obviously wasn't much of an option this time - so I was just on my back with my legs straight up in the air.  Super classy.  She finally finished and left the room so I could get dressed - and I tried to wipe up all the swass I had left on her table.  I couldn't even see the finished product, but assumed by how bruised my crotch felt that she had done a good job.  So now we've got a clean runway for little dude to make his entrance.  You're welcome, son.

So, a few weeks ago, I went in for my 34 week appointment with my doctor.  This was when my feet had started to swell, and I made the mistake of stepping on my scale at home before going to the doctor.  Up until that point, I had been doing pretty good with the whole weight gain thing - I had gained the "average" amount, according to Google.  Well, that particular day the scale was telling me I had gained 8 pounds in two weeks.  Great.  So, I get to the doctor's office and step on the scale, and sure enough it sky rockets to numbers I'd never thought I'd see on a scale.  Then the nurse took my blood pressure, and up until this point, it's always been fine - but then I hear a, "Oh, that's high."  Eff.  It was 140 something over high 80s, if I remember correctly.  She told me to go pee in a cup, and we'd take it again.  So I went into the bathroom, freaked out that I was a giant whale, and that my blood pressure was high...  Then subsequently managed to pee all over my hands while trying to get it in the cup.  I was kind of a mess.  Afterwards, I just stood in there trying to take deep breaths and calm down so my BP would drop.

When I went back out, she took it again, and sure enough it had dropped to a semi-normal number.  My doctor finally came into my room, and the first thing she said was, "Looks like you've gained some weight over the last few weeks."  Yeah, WHAT ABOUT IT.  Then she started telling me about how concerned she was about my blood pressure, and that since I had just barely started swelling as well, she wanted to test me for Pre-eclampsia.  This involved getting bloodwork done, and peeing in a jug for 24 hours.  Lovely.  She said that if my results came back as "mild", she'd induce me around 37 weeks - and if  they came back as "severe", they'd take the baby at "any time".  I called Shawn afterwards to tell him, and all he could say was, "'At any time'?!  What does that even mean?!  ANY TIME?!"  I assured him that I doubt my results would be "severe", but that we'd have to just wait and see.

I actually ended up needing to re-start the whole pee-in-a-jug for 24 hours thing because I was having some serious pain in my side that wouldn't go away, and I really had to pee, but wasn't at home to pee in my jug.  So, I went anyways and just started over.  I ended up needing a second jug, because apparently I pee like a freakin' race horse.  When my results were posted online, it said that the normal volume for the 24 hour urine catch was 600-1600 - my volume was 3,375.  Definitely gave them plenty to work with.

Anyways - all my labs and pee jug results came back totally normal, so my doctor just told me to monitor my blood pressure at home and call if it ever went higher than 140/90.  Okay, fine.

Skip a couple weeks to this last Monday, when I went in for my 36 week appointment.  I had been monitoring my blood pressure, and although it had gotten close, I never actually went above 140/90... So I was hoping that my doctor's BP machine wouldn't tell me otherwise.  Welllllllll, it ended up being about 154/95.  When my nurse told me the number, all I could respond with was an, "Oh heeell."  She said that she'd try again with her manual BP thinger after I peed in a cup.  So we did that, and it was 142/100 - while the BP machine I had been using was putting me at 128/98.

My doctor came in, not looking incredibly pleased and went on to say that she was obviously still worried about my BP, and that she was going to have me do the labs and pee jug again.  Yay.  She went on to say that the gestational hypertension alone would mean that I'd be getting induced sometime between 37 and 38 weeks.

In case you haven't done the math, I'll be 37 weeks this Friday.  I quickly started thinking of all the crap I still have left to do before he gets here, but at the same time was pretty excited that I'd get to meet him sooner than later.

She went on to go elbow deep into my vagina to check my cervix - and I can't say that it was my favorite thing in the entire world.  She confirmed that baby was head down, that I was 2+ dilated and 75% effaced - all of which she was really happy with.  Apparently she was worried that my cervix would be like Fort Knox, which would make induction a pain in the crack.  She left saying that she wanted me to go down to Labor & Delivery so they could monitor me and do some more labs and that I would be getting induced, she just didn't know when yet.  Um, okay?  Great.

I called Shawn to let him know I was on my way to Labor & Delivery - that was fun.  I assured him I wasn't in labor, or anything, and it was just to be tested - but he said he was on his way.  They took me to a room and told me to put the gown on.  And I don't know what the hell kind of stupid gowns those are, but I couldn't get the effing thing on to save my life.  I managed to get my right arm in, but had no idea how the hell the rest of it worked, so I just held it there to cover my butt-ass-naked self until a nurse came in.  She gave me a weird look, and I just said, "I can't figure out this stupid gown.  Help?"  She finally got it on, as I stood there feeling like the dumbass of the century.  She had me lay in bed and hooked me up to the fetal monitor thinger and the thing that monitors contractions.  I let her know that if she tested my BP now, it'd probably be 7 million/800, because of the fight I just had with their stupid hospital gown.  She was nice, and let me lay there for a few minutes before she put the cuff on my arm.

It was incredibly surreal to be laying in that room.  I, again, started going over all the things I hadn't done yet.  My house is a disaster.  We don't have the carseat installed.  I don't even have a diaper bag  I haven't even blogged yet.  Shawn finally showed up, and a wave of relief washed over me.  Even though I knew I likely wouldn't actually be giving birth that day, Labor & Delivery is not somewhere I really like to be alone, apparently.

We sat in the room for about an hour as they monitored my BP and took some blood.  My boobs started leaking, again.  Homegirls need to calm the freak down.  They start juicing at any hint of a baby being around, I swear.

As I laid there, I got so sweaty.  I told Shawn that it was a good thing they had that pad under my butt, because it was going to be sopping wet when I stood up.  To which he responded, "Love, are you sure that's actually butt sweat and not...  baby fluid?  Because that would be embarrassing if you mistook your water breaking for swass, when most women just think they peed their pants."  We had a good laugh over that, as I made a mental note that I'd definitely need an industrial-sized fan for when I was actually in labor.  Because if just laying there made me that hot and sweaty, I can only imagine what a hot mess I'll be pushing a tiny human out my yahoo.

Anyways, my BP ended up dropping to a completely normal number and my bloodwork came back just fine.  They scheduled me for a non-stress test and told me to just plan on coming back for my appointment next Monday, and that we'd go from there.  Luckily, my pee jug results ended up being normal as well.  So, as of right now, we're just kind of waiting to see what happens.  I'd love it if he just decided to come on his own, without having to be induced.  Buuuuut, we'll see.

I've already wasted way too much time on this blog - but I wanted to get it done before this kid is actually born.  So now I'm going to go try cleaning my house, and installing a carseat, and all the fun stuff I probably should have done weeks ago.  Yee haw!

Shalom, Internet!


  1. Just so you know, I'm sending you a facebook message with all of the stuff that is WAY TOO inappropriate to post in a blog comment.

  2. This is so awesome. I cant wait to read the conclusion. Bwahahahahaha.

  3. So excited for you! I went through most of those crazy symptoms too, mainly the swelling (ooohhh so swollen!) and the carpal tunnel, which was insanely annoying! Just to let you know, the carpal tunnel takes like 4 weeks to wear off after you have the baby, so don't freak out if you are still numb in the fingers after he is born (no one told me that...) I hope all goes well for you! will you email me your address? I want to add to the baby stash you have!! :) xo! (brittany.nunley @ gmail)

  4. "Babooning" is my new favorite word.

  5. Ugh - the swelling. I had hypertension that only appeared when I was in labor, and they gave me magnesium, which puffs you right up, as if I wasn't already swollen enough! You're almost there! Get the carseat in, and everything else will happen as needed. You don't really need a ton when they are brand new, you'll be good! Good luck!!! Enjoy it ... meeting your own baby is one of the best, most surreal experiences.

  6. pretty nice blog, following :)