Rescuing the Orca AKA Getting My Big Fat Pregnant Ass Outta Bed

Greetings, readers! I’ve recovered from my long weekend, and am back to my beloved blog. I will probably post my weekly baby update/belly picture tomorrow after my doctor’s appointment. I completely missed last week. Whoops. Bad blogger! In the meantime, enjoy my latest post.. All about getting my big fat ass out of bed.

I had once been told by a friend of mine who had been pregnant with twins that in order to get out of her bed once she had gotten big, she had to grab onto the headboard and roll herself off. This was in early pregnancy, when my baby belly was simply a dream to me. I, of course, laughed at the visual and figured that it was something that happened solely to women carrying multiples.
Oh, how very… very wrong I was.
I have since learned the error of my way of thinking; as I, too have become one of the Pregnant Launchers. You can’t really explain it to someone who hasn’t ever been pregnant. I don’t think even being overweight or obese can compare, because to my knowledge, fat moves. Baby stomach… Does not move. It’s like a boulder that you get strapped to your middle; one that is constantly there, constantly in the way. An immovable, round barrier that bars you from doing normal activities. Like.. Tying shoes. Sitting close to a table (resulting in mama constantly dropping food onto the “shelf”). Bending over. Hugging your husband/partner properly. Hugging ANYONE properly. Breathing well. Passing by people in a restaurant behind their chairs to get to the bathroom. And, of course, getting out of bed.
Yes, you can still get out of bed but not without a lot of noise and to-do. At least, I can’t.. And I’m honestly and truly not that big. Of course, I am 37 weeks pregnant but I’m not that big. No, I’m not in denial. I’ve had a couple people tell me I’m not that big, thank you very much. Since a little over mid-pregnancy, I’ve embraced the glories and wonders of the body pillow. It’s not a fancy, expensive pregnant-lady body pillow but a $10 one from Wal-Mart that I stole from the couch when I started getting uncomfortable. I cannot sleep without my body pillow. I’m a side-sleeper by nature so transitioning to side-sleeping only was never a problem for me… Getting used to sleeping draped awkwardly over a pillow, however, did take a little time getting used to. Not to mention the fact that I can’t freaking snuggle with my husband anymore, which SUCKS.
I digress. I can never stay comfortably asleep on one side for more than an hour or two at a time before I have to roll over. I used to try and just roll over and go right back to sleep, but it took so much adjusting, grunting and tossing of the pillow I just gave up and began shifting sides whenever I had to pee (which, coincidentally enough happens to be every 2-3 hours). I normally start out sleeping on my right side, embracing the body pillow for dear comfort. Upon my first waking, I have to begin the Ritual of the Rolling. Taking care not to launch my feline companions that are snug at the foot of the bed, I’ll pull the covers off. Then, I’ll drag the body pillow completely out from under the covers, fling it off the bed and give a little sigh. Next comes the heaving. I will roll ever-so-slightly to the right to get my momentum going, and then roll as hard as I can the opposite direction, flailing my arms and legs to get as much leverage off the bed as possible. I’m amazed that my husband does not wake each and every time from the amount of movement and noise that comes from me when I get out of bed. Once I’m in a sitting position (wincing from the groin and pelvic pain), I’ll hoist myself up off the bed to a standing position with much more noise and effort, and shuffle awkwardly to the restroom.
After I’ve done my business, I will get back into bed, snag my body pillow from the floor and switch to my left side. I’ll nestle the pillow properly where I like it, cover myself back up, and wait to fall asleep.
This process will repeat in 2 or 3 hours. I have seriously considered installing some form of rigging to the bed that will simply lift me out; like one of those big ass crane/sling things they use to rescue whales from the shore when they’ve become beached.

Yeah, that thing.

Just call me Shamu, baby. Just call me Shamu.

WTF IS THAT?! Also Known As: My First Lactation Scare

I try to be a good little pregnant lady and intake plenty of water. To aid me in my quest, I employ the help of a pink refillable Eddie Bauer water bottle, because I care about the earth and shit.

This pink refillable Eddie Bauer water bottle is fab, except for one small problem:
It leaks like a MoFo.

I had just filled up my bottle and sat my big fat pregnant ass down to take a drink when I remembered that I needed to pick a copy I had made up from the back. With a sigh, I heaved my orca-like body out of the chair, took a swig of my delicious (ha, ha) water and headed in the back to retrieve said copy. I was standing back there, looking at the dreary day that was outside the window and for some reason I looked down. On my chest, I saw a big round wet spot.

My thought was: HOLY SHIT, I AM LACTATING. FOR THE FIRST TIME. AT WORK. WHAT THE HELL. WHY?! OF ALL THE PLACES, WHY?!

My mind raced through solutions to the problem before anyone noticed that I was leaking milk from my chest like a neglected cow. I was about to cross my arms over my chest and put on a sweater when I remembered that I had hastily taken a sip from my leaky water bottle. And because I am pregnant and as a result, A BLEEDING MORON, I didn’t take the time to realize that the wet spot was NOWHERE NEAR MY ACTUAL NIPPLE.

I uttered a hugh sigh of relief and a slight laugh, and like a good mommy blogger, I took a picture of my “not breastmilk” wet spot.

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The Last Halloween

I am coming to the realization as each holiday passes that it is my last – ever, in my entire life – where it will be just me and my husband. When I mention that to my husband, he smiles and pats my stomach and says it’s already the three of us. True, but I think you get my drift. This time next Halloween, Nellie will be nine months old. She will be nine months! How insane is that?! We will pick out a costume for her, probably take her to get pictures.. She will be sitting up, probably starting to eat solid foods – she could even be walking. It’s true, I have a friend whose baby started walking before she was a year old.
I was laying on the couch last night watching Supernatural (which is made of AWESOME, by the way if you haven’t seen it yet) and feeling Nellie kick when I realized how strange it’s going to be to sit, or lay and not get kicked from the inside. I’ve grown so accustomed to the little bumps, jerks and earthquakes from within my belly it’s hard to picture what my life was like before them. I’ve been feeling her move every single day for about 5 weeks now and she will continue to do so for (hopefully) at least 10 more weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely cannot wait to meet my little girl but it’s going to take some getting used to not having her in my belly.
Pregnancy is something that has just come very naturally to me. Perhaps I’ve just been blessed with an easy pregnancy, but I’ve never felt better than right now, at 7 months pregnant. When I walk down the street and catch a glimpse of my shadow, I smile at the round silhouette lying on the street. If I am passing a mirror and happen to see my reflection, I stop and admire it for a moment with a smile on my face; my hands tracing the curve of my belly. I find myself resting my hands on my stomach all the time – in line at the grocery store, walking down the hall, even just sitting at my desk.. My hands are on my belly.
We’ll be attending a Halloween party – in November. Crazy, I know. But my brother-in-law is the one who hosts it every year, and his October is booked solid as he co-produces and co-directs the Ruby Falls Haunted Cavern each season. He has since 2006. We’ll be having the Halloween party the 2nd weekend in November. I always get funny looks when I tell people I’m going to a Halloween party in November, but whatever. I’ve got a pretty fun costume planned for this year; you’ll just have to wait to see pictures. Until then, you can tide yourself over with my favorite costume that I’ve ever had. From our 2007 Halloween party, I give you…

Lois the Crazy Cat Lady.

Happy Halloween, everybody!!!!!

The Curious Case of My Vanishing VaJayJay

So…… This may be a little much, but honestly when I became pregnant, after all the TTC lingo I exchanged with ladies via message boards, TMI doesn’t really exist for me anymore so here it goes.

I can no longer see my crotch.

It’s true. I don’t remember what inspired me even thinking to look, but after much glancing, twisting and turning and other various methods of contortion that are usually best left to small acrobatic circus performers, I confirmed that I can no longer see my crotch. It’s gone. Vanished. Out of my sight.

I tried to pull my belly out of the way, except the thing is – my belly won’t, like, move anymore. It just… Is there. All the time. I tried bending over. That just made my vagina disappear further from my view. I lifted my leg and propped it up on the toilet, almost toppling over like a Weeble in the process. I peeked, peered, and gazed. My husband caught me doing this; looking like I was attempting some strange and potentially dangerous new Yoga pose and asked me what the hell I was doing. I gave him a look like, “duh” and told him I was trying to see my crotch, to which he responded by howling in laughter and walking away.

The only way I can see my ladybits anymore is to look with a mirror. Even that is difficult, but look with a mirror I did – if only to reassure myself that my vagina is, in fact, still there and fully in tact. I ended up getting a glimpse of it. Yep, there’s my vagina. Still there, still looking the same as it ever did (albeit slightly more… Um… Puffy? WTF, PREGNANCY?). Pregnancy is such a curious thing. Never in a million years did I think that something as simple as being able to see my own vagina would be something that was impossible without being an Olympic gymnast. Something that I’ve seen every single day of my life is now gone; hidden by the growing mound that is my stomach.

I think that the book Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy had mentioned something about her vagina getting blue and engorged, and when I read it in my first trimester I laughed heartily and thought to myself that was a bunch of bullshit. Apparently it is NOT bullshit, and vaginas do in fact get engorged during gestation. Though mine isn’t blue. It’s still a normal color.

Now that you know entirely too much about my crotch region, carry on and have a very pleasant Tuesday. And never take the fact that you can see your vagina for granted.

Reflections and Anticipation

This weekend has been a very lazy one, which I’m not complaining about. Hubby and I were laying on the couch just lounging, and I got up and went to the bedroom to retrieve a pillow and our blanket. We snuggled back up and I asked him, “Is it sad that my favorite part of the weekend is laying on the couch with a pillow and a blanket and just relaxing?” he said no.

We hit the grocery store today, made some tuna salad for lunch and took a nap. We have been filling the hours with cuddling together on the couch and watching Queer as Folk, which we have been renting through Netflix. Ah, glorious Netflix. I was snuggled up next to him and looked around at our slightly cluttered, but not dirty, apartment and smiled. I felt my little girl squirm a little bit and my smile got bigger. In that moment, that very second, my life was perfect. I have my husband, I have a comfortable place to live. We have a car that gets us where we need to go and isn’t a piece of junk and I have a job that pays. I have health insurance for my family, and a tiny little baby girl on the way.

As hubby was checking his mail, I decided to pick up a little bit. I did some dishes so I’d have a clean space to make dinner (spaghetti) and picked up the bathroom. I was wiping down the counter and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I smiled at the reflection, and turned to the side. I realized that I’ve never felt more comfortable with my body; never felt more beautiful. My skin has cleared up for the most part (still have some random pimples occasionally) which made me happy. Yes, I am overweight but my belly is swelling and curving in a way that I’ve anticipated for so long. I ran my hands over my tummy and couldn’t help but smile. I know a lot of women have a problem with their body changing during pregnancy, but not me. I know that my hips will widen and I will put on weight in places I never thought possible. I will probably get stretch marks on my stomach, and my ankles will swell. But all of this is temporary; my body will never be the same, I know, it will just be different.

I carry my new, blossoming belly with pride and not shame or self consciousness. My body is doing something amazing, and I feel honored to be growing a human being. A little girl. … My little girl, who has the potential do to and be anything she wants. I know that I will love her unconditionally, no matter what she chooses to do or who she becomes. I honestly and truly cannot wait for motherhood, and all of the ups and downs that come with it. I can’t wait for the scraped knees and tears, for the toys flushed down the toilet and the sheepish, hushed mutterings of, “uh oh” that every person knows means disaster. Even the sleepless nights, tantrums and trials I embrace. Our lives are about to change so dramatically and I cannot wait.