Land of a Thousand Dances
Last night Simon and I slipped into bed for a short nap at about 7:30 p.m. and, bathroom breaks aside, can you guess when I woke up? If you said twelve and a half hours later, you win. Congratulations on correctly assessing my exhaustion after a weekend of nonstop partying, wherein partying involves the pregnant woman driving around a carload of people who started drinking at dinnertime on Friday and didn't stop until the Sunday afternoon mojitos were nothing but a muddle of mint leaves at the bottoms of five glasses. (The sixth glass--mine--contained mint leaves and the remnants of something Trader Joe's calls a "Sparkling Mojito Beverage." It was a beverage, I'll give it that.)
The weekend was centered around Emily's little sister's wedding, which Simon and I were invited to, having really only met the bride and groom once, through a series of business negotiations that worked out really well for us considering we scored four free meals, a purple orchid, and an excuse to shake it, shake, shake it, shake it like a Polaroid picture. Speaking of Polaroids, here's one of us dancing and another of us as Godzilla and a sumo wrestler. The difference between the two should be apparent despite my having gained, according to the medical professionals, five pounds in the last three weeks. (And no, I am not wearing white to someone else's wedding. That's just Polaroid's magic way of transforming one into a social faux pas. Thanks, Polaroid!)
The doctor was not alarmed enough to comment on my weight gain (still within normal range, I know), but it's getting kind of comical the way she never gets concerned about the things I'm concerned about but then always reprimands me for things about which I could(n't) care less, like, oh, not pooping every single day. (I have never pooped every single day. Frankly, the thought kind of astounds me.) She did say to call her if I have any more near-fainting spells or regular contractions (I get them once or twice a day now), but most importantly, she says, take some Metamucil, for crying out loud. Fine, whatever, although I don't really think I'll have to resort to fiber supplements now, being that her use of the words "enema" and "preterm labor" pretty much scared the shit right out of me there on the crinkly exam-table paper.
But again, the best news is always that Wombat is healthy and (physically) normal and dancing up a storm in there. I think it's the watusi, which I taught him at the wedding. (For the record, it was a beautiful wedding and, as Simon put it, the best wedding he's attended of someone he didn't know.)
But back to the doctor: From the Big Ultrasound on, I expected my visits to get even more non-event-ish than they already have been (pee in a cup, step on the scale, blood pressure reading, doppler time, thank you and good day) because we're past all of the major turning points--the genetic testing, the diagnostic scans, the excessive bloodletting--and now all that's left to do is wait. Seems I forgot about the gestational diabetes screening, which Metalia has scared me into renaming the Glucose Test of Abject Horror. So I now have that to look forward to. Whee.
Ooh! Except I just remembered something! We're going to Salt Lake this weekend, and because my mom is a person who "knows people," if you know what I mean, I just might get a freebie ultrasound (and be allowed to take video of my own damn child, thank you very much), and that has me practically peeing my pants with excitement. Either that or the baby is doing the mashed potato on my bladder again.
Weddings of people you don't know are fun because you don't feel obligated except to have fun. (As long as you're invited and not crashing. Crashing is fun, but kind of stressful too. I mean, er, I don't crash.)
They didn't let you tape your ultrasound?? What jerks! It's so fun to look back at that and hear our dopey voices all giddy with excitement.
Hey, thanks again for letting us crash at your place, make several huge messes, delivering the ipod last minute and hanging out with us all weekend. You guys rule.
My doctor seems to not be concerned about ANYTHING. Which is fine with me, actually.
I take the gestational diabetes test next week. I already have the bottle of sugary stuff waiting in my fridge. Yay.
So weird that now the Wombat is a HE! Before it was merely an IT! Glad HE'S healthy!!!
I don't know why, but I'm kind of stunned you don't poop every day.
I refuse to believe I'm abnormal. Maybe I just don't eat as much as other people do? Or my body metabolizes differently? Or perhaps this is what bodies do when they don't consume coffee...
You're not abnormal. I've never pooped daily either, unless I'm sick. And maybe you've stumbled onto something, because I don't drink coffee either. Other people try and tell me it's unhealthy and I must be in discomfort (I'm not), but I just like to think my body is more efficient than other's people's, so I produce less waste. Our digestive systems were Green before Green was cool.
Did you know that Polaroid stopped making all of its instant film last year?
There are some places around here (and possibly around you) that offer elective ultrasounds, including the freaky 3-D imaging and video stuff.
Your life will be nothing but major turning points (as it probably has been all along). Solid foods, starting kindergarten, first girlfriends ... it's all coming!
I'll give you pregnant license and let you off with a warning this time, but you used the phrase "centered around." Don't make me call the Editor Police on you! :-)
Gosh, looking back over others' comments I'm beginning to feel abnormal. I don't eat that much, but I poop like 20 times a day.
A doctor once told me that if your pooping schedule has been consistent for years, then that's just how your body likes to metabolize things. That being said...
I can't quite believe I'm going to say this in public, but, um, I'd listen to your doctor (I also realize this is assvice from Teh Internets). I've never been pregnant, but I have also never pooped every day (like, Dooce-level not pooping) and iron supplements can make it worse. And, um, the ramifications of not pooping and/or straining can be murder on your heiny. Not that I would know, or anything.
Also related to this: Metamucil is gross. Benefiber is the way to go. It dissolves in anything! Water, juice, coffee, tea, whatever! Not grainy, not gross tasting.
It's not that I think you non-daily-poopers are abnormal, I just can't imagine not pooping every day. It's just one of those things that surprises me about people and all of our crazy differences.