Every Day's a Holiday
You'd think I'd have a lot to say these days, what with all the exciting gestating going on. Whenever I used to go through a blogging dry spell, I'd think, Gee, if only I had a kid, then I'd have something to write about. Those kids and their eminently bloggable shenanigans! (You know you're taking blogging too seriously when...) I thought pregnancy would be the same way: every day a new symptom to document, every day an update, but that's not how it's been at all. Aside from the fact that wombat is, we assume, still thriving in there, safe and cushioned behind the bloat, there's really not much to report. At eleven weeks and change, I'm pretty sure I missed the morning sickness boat completely (huzzah!) and were it not for the absent period, I probably wouldn't even know my body was a full one quarter done with the business of person-making.
One of the reasons I've been so excited to go through pregnancy is that I've been curious about how it would manifest itself in my body. Would my hair change color, would my boobs get porn-y, would I crave pickles and ice cream? So far, I've gotten off easy. My skin might be a little flusher, my hair might be a little bouncier, my fingernails might be growing a little faster, my boobs might be finally filling out a bra they way I always wanted them to. But all that other stuff? Sore and veiny chest, persistent constipation, significant cravings and aversions, sudden weight gain, congestion, headaches, insomnia, frequent urination, mood swings, crippling fatigue, and on and on--most of what I've experienced is so incidental that if I didn't know better, hadn't actually seen the fetbryo and heard its racing heart, I would have chalked it all up to normal fluctuations of the human body. Even the bloating has gone down and my pants, albeit my largest ones, are all zipped and buttoned for the first time in weeks. The only ailment of any note is the tailbone pain, which has taken a turn for the more sciatic in that whenever I move my left leg forward an electric nerve pain shoots through my butt cheek and I grope for a crutch. Don't get me wrong: I'll take that over barfing any day, but it is putting a cramp (har) in my free-time activities, and hence, I do nothing and have nothing much to say.
With our combined lumbar ailments, we spent most of Memorial Day weekend on the couch. Simon's back x-ray came out looking like a section of the Cauto River and so we lounged accordingly. We did get out on Saturday morning, however, for a birthday barbecue in the redwoods that forest the hills of Oakland. Just a ten minute drive and you're in the wilderness, out of cell phone range and up where no one can hear you scream when you slip on a rock and wrench your back and fall to your knees in the dirt and squeeze back the tears. This happened on the gentle walk from the car to the campsite, when Simon was wearing Chuck Taylors (aka canvas and rubber lace-on banana peels) and also balancing a blanket and a camping chair and a mug of tea, the combination of which made the scene exceptionally pathetic because he just sort of crumpled to the ground in a heap of outdoorsy detritus while I stood above him helplessly, unable to offfer even a pat on the shoulder because I was carrying a camping chair and a mug of tea and a full and really heavy pitcher of homemade lemonade, and I also couldn't really bend down that morning without groaning in pain, so I just sort of stood there while he writhed in the dust at my feet. It was really sad.
But the party was lovely, and the barbecue sauce flowed like wine down my gullet, and there were so many cupcakes that I had to have two. Also, aside from the hosts and a couple of others, we didn't know anyone at the party and you know what that means: they got to hear all about the baby. Word is spreading slowly through friends and family, but I still haven't told the people I spend the bulk of my time with: my coworkers. I'm not really waiting for the twelve-week mark so much as waiting until I have an ultrasound picture I can post inconspicuously on our Wall o' Babies so that I don't actually have to try to slip the news into casual conversation about time sheets and galley schedules and who didn't refill the printer paper. Also, this brilliant passive-aggressive technique will improve the chances that as people find out about the baby, they will come congratulate me while I'm sitting behind my desk, thereby avoiding the awkward coworker hug. I fear this because I once perpetrated it myself. A coworker told me she was pregnant while we were standing at our mailboxes and, before I knew what was happening, I had her locked in a firm embrace and I was squealing into her ear like a freakin' girl. I don't know what happened after that; I may have blacked out. All I know is that I'm not really on hugging terms with my coworkers and that's probably best, so let's just forget it ever happened, okay?
That said, I'm so ready to tell people. Reasons include:
1. I've been keeping it a secret for almost two months already and it's hard, yo
2. I keep missing work for doctor appointments and I feel the wrath of the stinkeye whenever I say I'm going to miss a meeting for "personal reasons"
3. I want to welcome back into my wardrobe some form-fitting pieces because the billowy smocks are getting tiresome and just make me look sloppy
4. I have to prepare for a maternity leave that is a mere six months away! Six months! I can't even wrap my mind around that.
5. I simply! can't! wait! to be barraged with inquiries as to when I'm getting married already, GAWD. You'd think they had money riding on it or something. Sheesh.
So, that's that. The NT scan (ultrasound! woo!) is scheduled for next Friday and this time we'll be prepared: a digital camera in case they don't print out a screen shot of wombat, and a wide-mouthed jug in which to take an emergency pee in case they put me through the full-bladder water torture again.
I hope Simon is okay! And I'm glad things are mostly uneventful and peaceful for you!
Sorry about Simon! Holy cow. I'm glad you didn't fall too!
Apart from the first three months of nausea, I was pretty symptom-free for my pregnancies. No constipation, heartburn, etc. Sore back, yes, but carrying an extra 30 (or in the case of Graham, SIXTY) pounds will do that to you.
Until Emily, of course. That kid wreaked havoc on me :)
I am glad that all is well on your end, and look forward to seeing your wombat.
(See you in seven weeks! Woo!)
Wishing you well. Thrilled (And jealous) to hear that you have no major "symptoms."
I think I might be having sympathy sciatic nerve pain. Eeek! That pain is *not* comfortable. You're being quite the trooper about it. Glad to hear you're alright otherwise! Hope Simon feels better soon!
I'm so happy that pregnancy is treating you well, but I really hope your back pain doesn't continue!! Poor Simon! Maybe it's sympathy pain? Either way....good health vibes all around.....
I can't believe you'll be a mom in only six short months....okay, I'm getting pathetically teary-eyed now......
Big hugs from across the globe, my dear :)
i remember several years ago there was a baby shower at my work. . . when i found out who it was for i remember asking something like, "really? she's not showing at all - is this her first trimester?". . .
apparently it was her eighth month. . .
I totally do the spontaneous Hug-and-Squeal too. I have no idea why; sometimes I have not exchanged more than two words with the mother-to-be, and then when I hear the news, I am suddenly her new best friend with boundary issues.
Good luck fielding the marriage questions. I'm sure you can craft a few good responses that will make the questioner really uncomfortable/provide you with endless amusement.
"when I hear the news, I am suddenly her new best friend with boundary issues"
That is the funniest thing I've heard today.
Yeah, I'm with jive turkey, I am not a big hugger but every so often the impulse is just too much. And where do those squueees(!) come from anyway, good lord. :)
I just have intense impulse to touch the mother to be's tummy, which is obviously a no-no!
I wish it wasn't a faux pas for me to wear billowy smocks. They look comfy.
So glad to hear things are going well. But I'll share this: every parent has "morning sickness." Whether it's when they toddle off to preschool, or start their first day of kindergarten (this fall), or get hurt, or get a driver's license, or go on that first date, or start a job, or go to college, get married or find out they are going to make you a grandparent. It's the absolute best/worst sickness in the world!