I have a veritable pharmacy in my bed. Since Chris has been living out of hotels in Dayton during the week for the last two months, due to his new job in our future hometown, I have inherited the king bed all for myself. And since I have developed an extremely obnoxious and unbearable case of snoring due to my pregnancy, even when he is home on the weekends, he ends up in the bed down the hall. So, for all intents and purposes, the king bed is mine all mine. And since this is the case, I have chosen to fill it with all the items that have become near and dear to my heart..... my pregnancy survival kit, if you will.
I have the following sundries in my bed with me: tylenol, cough drops, gas relief chewable tablets and pills, palmer's cocoa butter lotion for stretch marks, powder, tums antacids and a box of tissues. In addition to the pharamceutical needs, I have also chosen to include my cell phone, the remote control, a pen and notepad, a water bottle, hair ties and dog biscuits to lure the dogs in to my room at night. Everything is neatly lined up beside me where my husband used to lay.
Why don't I just use the bedside stand, you ask? Well, because since I have commandeered the bedroom, I moved the night stand to the foot of the bed and dragged the spare tv into the room to place on it, against my husband's "sleep hygiene" policy, so that I might be entertained while my child kicks the crap out of me all night. Besides, it's so convenient to have everything right next to me. I don't even have to roll over. And since I'm usually engrossed in an old re-run episode of the Golden Girls or Will and Grace, I have learned to find everything by touch. I don't even have to look to find what I need. It's bliss, really.
So, even though I have all the supplies I need to survive my long, often sleepless, nights, I have come to the conclusion that I am suffering from a disorder. The snoring for one thing could wake the dead. It doesn't wake me of course, but the dead, yes, I'm sure they take issue with it. According to Chris, the dogs are restless all night because of the ogre-like sounds that eminate from the caverns of my body, and we have decided that the baby must surely believe that she was swallowed by a monster.
This past weekend we escaped away to a cottage in the woods in Amish Country to have some R&R before the baby poop hits the fan. Because the weather was so perfect, we left all the windows open and slept amidst cool breezes. Of course, my husband ended up in the bedroom downstairs and left me alone upstairs to inhale anything not nailed down. But he said that as he lay there, he could hear me through his window. "No wonder there's no wildlife around," he says to me over breakfast. "You've scared them all away."
In addition to the snoring problem, I have now acquired an embarrassing appetite. It's not that I gorge food as if I were about to be discovered in a closet clutching a bag of Oreo's, it's more like I'm just always hungry. But I'm trying to control it by being reasonable and making healthy choices. Chris is not helping. He encourages me to eat even when it's not healthy. It's a sweet gesture that comes from a good place but I swear to God if I said a bucket of lard sounded appetizing Chris would run and get me a spoon.
That morning at breakfast in the cottage, Chris made a glorious breakfast for us. And breakfast is not breakfast without bacon. As we argued over who should eat the last piece, each insisting the other take it, Chris says to me, "Honey, I'm just making poop. You're making a baby. You take it." Feeling there is really no way to argue with this logic, I conceded and ate it. Besides, it's useless to argue with a man who wishes to nurture his baby. He doesn't have an umbilical cord, so his only option is to force feed me. It's really sweet, if you think about it.
At any rate, pregnancy is a disorder and symptoms include overeating and uncontrollable snoring. Symptoms also include not being able to bend over in the shower when you drop the soap, a constant re-supplying of toilet paper, an obsession with germs, getting stuck in the couch, an inability to reach and tie your shoes, and apparently, hoarding things in your bed like a muskrat so you don't have to repeatedly get up in search of them.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Pregnancy Symptoms
Everything I've ever been told about pregnancy I was always sure would never happen to me. I was wrong. I thought these symptoms were for the weak, the wusses. Surely I, with my iron will and sturdy body can avoid or overcome any malfunction, ache or pain that would come my way. Again, I was sorely mistaken. The first thing to go has been my memory.
So far, I have let ATM machines eat my cards, I have driven away with my drinks on the top of my car, I have left my purse at home and have had to return for it, I have parked and after spending five minutes digging quarters from the bottom of my purse, have gotten out of the car and simply walked away from the meter. I have missed many, many appointments even though I write them down in three different places, I have forgotten to pay my bills even though I get email messages reminding me to pay them, mailed hard copies of the bill, and online bill pay. I have driven all the way to the store to return items only to get there and realize I left the items at home. Oh yes, and this is only the tip of the iceberg.
Of course it was only a matter of time, that the next thing to go would be my looks. Like Stretch Armstrong, my body has been pulled and twisted into a sorry blob. To combat this and to make myself feel a little more attractive, I recruited the help of Frederick's of Hollywood. Naively I thought this would spice up my life and boost my confidence. Oh, I have so much to learn. After spending at least an hour searching their website to find something that pregnant ladies can wear, I managed to pick two babydoll outfits. When they arrived, I couldn't wait to try them on. The first one, well, it fit. Let's just leave it at that. But the other one was a disaster. In theory, it was sexy. It had open cups for a more revealing experience. But the problem was that my boobs have gotten completely out of control. They are huge. When I put it on, instead of giving a peak, my boobs literally pushed through the holes and hung out the front. It was horrific. I mean it was like squeezing play dough through a tube. So yeah, sexy is out.
The third thing to go now is the rest of my body. Things just no longer function properly. I pee literally every ten minutes, I have constant heartburn, I suffer from restless leg syndrome every single night, I have a new pain in my back every few days, I get winded just getting up off the couch, I'm hungry every two hours, my hands and feet are swollen and sometimes my left hand will tingle a bit. I can't wear any of my pretty shoes because they are now too tight. I got my wedding ring on but it ain't comin' off. But last night I hit an all time low.
I have had a cough over the last few days and occasionally I will wake up in the middle of the night hacking my head off. Usually I'll just reach for a cough drop and after a few minutes, I quiet down and go back to sleep. Not last night. Last night, I woke up coughing so hard I almost threw up. Then it happened. I coughed so hard that I peed myself. I peed. In the bed, down my leg, it was everywhere. Still half asleep, I hobbled to the bathroom where I coughed the rest of it out and cleaned myself up.
So, I don't know what's next but at this point I'm prepared for just about anything and nothing would surprise me. If I can pee the bed just by coughing, then I now believe that my body is capable of just about anything, especially now that I'm getting bigger by the day. So much for "that will never happen to me." Been there, done that. I peed the bed. I think I have earned the right to play the pregnancy card once in awhile.
So far, I have let ATM machines eat my cards, I have driven away with my drinks on the top of my car, I have left my purse at home and have had to return for it, I have parked and after spending five minutes digging quarters from the bottom of my purse, have gotten out of the car and simply walked away from the meter. I have missed many, many appointments even though I write them down in three different places, I have forgotten to pay my bills even though I get email messages reminding me to pay them, mailed hard copies of the bill, and online bill pay. I have driven all the way to the store to return items only to get there and realize I left the items at home. Oh yes, and this is only the tip of the iceberg.
Of course it was only a matter of time, that the next thing to go would be my looks. Like Stretch Armstrong, my body has been pulled and twisted into a sorry blob. To combat this and to make myself feel a little more attractive, I recruited the help of Frederick's of Hollywood. Naively I thought this would spice up my life and boost my confidence. Oh, I have so much to learn. After spending at least an hour searching their website to find something that pregnant ladies can wear, I managed to pick two babydoll outfits. When they arrived, I couldn't wait to try them on. The first one, well, it fit. Let's just leave it at that. But the other one was a disaster. In theory, it was sexy. It had open cups for a more revealing experience. But the problem was that my boobs have gotten completely out of control. They are huge. When I put it on, instead of giving a peak, my boobs literally pushed through the holes and hung out the front. It was horrific. I mean it was like squeezing play dough through a tube. So yeah, sexy is out.
The third thing to go now is the rest of my body. Things just no longer function properly. I pee literally every ten minutes, I have constant heartburn, I suffer from restless leg syndrome every single night, I have a new pain in my back every few days, I get winded just getting up off the couch, I'm hungry every two hours, my hands and feet are swollen and sometimes my left hand will tingle a bit. I can't wear any of my pretty shoes because they are now too tight. I got my wedding ring on but it ain't comin' off. But last night I hit an all time low.
I have had a cough over the last few days and occasionally I will wake up in the middle of the night hacking my head off. Usually I'll just reach for a cough drop and after a few minutes, I quiet down and go back to sleep. Not last night. Last night, I woke up coughing so hard I almost threw up. Then it happened. I coughed so hard that I peed myself. I peed. In the bed, down my leg, it was everywhere. Still half asleep, I hobbled to the bathroom where I coughed the rest of it out and cleaned myself up.
So, I don't know what's next but at this point I'm prepared for just about anything and nothing would surprise me. If I can pee the bed just by coughing, then I now believe that my body is capable of just about anything, especially now that I'm getting bigger by the day. So much for "that will never happen to me." Been there, done that. I peed the bed. I think I have earned the right to play the pregnancy card once in awhile.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Shopping with Daddy
Last weekend Chris and I decided to spend the weekend just hanging out, something we have not done since we realized we were going to have to move to Dayton. But both of us desperately needed some down time so we indulged with lunch out and some light shopping. After soup and sandwiches at Panera, we meandered into Old Navy. As luck would have it, they were having a sale. We headed straight for the maternity and baby section to shop for the largest and smallest items the store had to offer.
We giggled over the ridiculous size of the tops and dresses I'm finding myself fitting into these days and bonded over the teeny little outfits our daughter will soon be wrestled into. "This is the first time we've done this," I said realizing that since we found out I was pregnant we had not had any time to enjoy preparing for this exciting change that was barreling our way. "I know," he said as he held up a onesie marked with a cartoon crustacean and the phrase, "Daddy's favorite shrimp." "It's kind of fun."
After piling ourselves with a mound of outfits, we headed for the fitting room so that I could try on my mommy gear. Old Navy has always been fairly accommodating in their fitting area with comfortable benches outside for people to sit and wait but this time, there was something new. Just outside the entry there was a long table set up with crayons and coloring books and a father and son looking to be very much in the zone of their artistic endeavors.
The father was meticulously coloring in the leaves of some prehistoric plant in a dinosaur coloring book while his son added the final touches to a monster truck. They were both bent over their projects, intensely focused on making masterpieces.
I smiled and turned to Chris, handing him all the cute pink little outfits and said, "Okay honey, you go color and be sure to play nice with the other daddies."
"Very funny," he said.
"Hey, don't knock it," said the dad, overhearing us. "It's fun. The last time I worked really hard on one but I didn't get to finish it. I hope at least this time I'll get to take this one home."
"Dad, hand me the red."
"Sure, buddy."
He was dead serious and apparently very proud of his work.
"Here, this is a good one," he said trying to hand a coloring book to Chris and offering him a place at the table.
"Uh, no thanks," Chris said as he threw the pink onesies over a rack of men's shirts and took a masculine stance. "I'll just wait for her to try her stuff on."
"Suit yourself," said the dad and went back to his goal of completing the picture before his wife came out of the fitting room.
I giggled about this until I tried on my first outfit and realized that he was not the only one to feel humbled and maybe a little embarrassed. My belly and my boobs pressed against the fabric of several tops and I looked like I was trying to shoplift produce. It really didn't seem fair that the little culprit causing this expansion gets to have a square foot of fabric when I have to suffer with three yards of it.
Anyway, our shopping trip was a fun bonding experience and a relief from the chaos of our lives. Afterwards we went to Borders to look at books of baby names. Since "Daddy's favorite shrimp" is obviously trademarked, we were going to have to come up with something else. Of course for now, and for a little while, it works. We like it anyway. She can be the shrimp and I'll be the whale. But only for now.
We giggled over the ridiculous size of the tops and dresses I'm finding myself fitting into these days and bonded over the teeny little outfits our daughter will soon be wrestled into. "This is the first time we've done this," I said realizing that since we found out I was pregnant we had not had any time to enjoy preparing for this exciting change that was barreling our way. "I know," he said as he held up a onesie marked with a cartoon crustacean and the phrase, "Daddy's favorite shrimp." "It's kind of fun."
After piling ourselves with a mound of outfits, we headed for the fitting room so that I could try on my mommy gear. Old Navy has always been fairly accommodating in their fitting area with comfortable benches outside for people to sit and wait but this time, there was something new. Just outside the entry there was a long table set up with crayons and coloring books and a father and son looking to be very much in the zone of their artistic endeavors.
The father was meticulously coloring in the leaves of some prehistoric plant in a dinosaur coloring book while his son added the final touches to a monster truck. They were both bent over their projects, intensely focused on making masterpieces.
I smiled and turned to Chris, handing him all the cute pink little outfits and said, "Okay honey, you go color and be sure to play nice with the other daddies."
"Very funny," he said.
"Hey, don't knock it," said the dad, overhearing us. "It's fun. The last time I worked really hard on one but I didn't get to finish it. I hope at least this time I'll get to take this one home."
"Dad, hand me the red."
"Sure, buddy."
He was dead serious and apparently very proud of his work.
"Here, this is a good one," he said trying to hand a coloring book to Chris and offering him a place at the table.
"Uh, no thanks," Chris said as he threw the pink onesies over a rack of men's shirts and took a masculine stance. "I'll just wait for her to try her stuff on."
"Suit yourself," said the dad and went back to his goal of completing the picture before his wife came out of the fitting room.
I giggled about this until I tried on my first outfit and realized that he was not the only one to feel humbled and maybe a little embarrassed. My belly and my boobs pressed against the fabric of several tops and I looked like I was trying to shoplift produce. It really didn't seem fair that the little culprit causing this expansion gets to have a square foot of fabric when I have to suffer with three yards of it.
Anyway, our shopping trip was a fun bonding experience and a relief from the chaos of our lives. Afterwards we went to Borders to look at books of baby names. Since "Daddy's favorite shrimp" is obviously trademarked, we were going to have to come up with something else. Of course for now, and for a little while, it works. We like it anyway. She can be the shrimp and I'll be the whale. But only for now.
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