I know what you’re thinking…it’s Sunday. Is Sarah at work on a Sunday? Not on your life. And then when am I doing, you ask? Well, I am actually blogging at home. Crazy, huh? I think it must be the hormones.
Also, because it’s Sunday, I thought it would be a good idea to give a baby update. As of today, Sam the man and I are 26 weeks along. We’ve recently passed a few milestones in the whole pregnancy thing.
For one, Owen and I went to our first Lamaze class last Tuesday. It went pretty well, all things considered. Actually, it went astonishingly better than I thought it would when the instructor began by whipping out a hand-knit model of a uterus. I know what you’re thinking and no, I didn’t make it up. And, for the record, just in case you’ve never seen an actual hand-knit model of a uterus, they’re red and white striped. Who knew? And all this time I’d imagined it to be a sort of fleshy pink or red color. I’m so glad to have learned not only the early signs of labor but also that the uterus is so fashionable that it could almost be considered an accessory. We actually learned a few things at Lamaze, to both of our surprise. We’re not too good at being new age and, after the Yoga business, were afraid she was going to tell us to breathe through our eyelids or something. So far this has not happened. But I am also not positive it won’t.
Something else I learned: It would be better for me if I pretend that I’m going to go through “natural” (a.k.a. drug-free) childbirth while in class. I learned this when, as part of the introduction, the instructor asked me why I was there. I flailed for an answer as I thought my reason for being there ought to have been pretty obvious to a professional such as herself. I admit I kind of panicked and so my answer came out sort of like this, “Well, I want to see the hospital and the facilities and I also want to get the lowdown on the whole childbirth process…you know…when I can get my epidural and stuff.” This brought on what people in my family like to refer to as “the laser look of death,” and a momentary panic that she might already be planning to file a 3200 child abuse reporting form with CPS (Child Protective Services) on me. Her response was pinched, as though is barely escaped her lips without the accompaniment of a stinging stream of venom: “There will be NO SHOTS given. We will be discussing alternative pain management techniques in this class.” My response? Smile, nod and pretend to have just made a hilarious inside joke between myself and the rest of the militant “natural” childbirth nazis.
Another milestone we’ve passed recently is that this past weekend Owen and I drove to Grand Rapids with my mom to register. Mom, Rachel and I hit Target and Babies ‘R’ Us on Saturday morning and, by 4 p.m., had compiled a list of things that should theoretically make this whole baby thing easier. I say theoretically because I spent most of my (and by my I mean “our”) time at Babies ‘R’ Us trying to figure out which stroller/car seat combo was small enough to actually fit through the mail-slot-sized opening of the trunk of my car. And believe me, it’s no picnic finding a stroller that will fold up to less than 17”. I didn’t make that up either.
(At this point I’d like to send out a consumer alert: though the 2005 Chevy Cobalt is a lovely car that comes in fantastic colors, it has an appallingly small trunk opening to a trunk that is actually decent-sized. It also has an absolutely terribly engineered heat system for those of us in the northern climates. I had my brother, our resident car expert, check the duct system to make sure there wasn’t a clog or something and he informed me that there is, in fact, no heat duct on the floor of the driver’s side. Disgusting, eh?)
But, back to the registering, it went pretty well and I have to give big thanks to Mom and Rachel for a.) coming along and offering stellar advice, b.) not abandoning me when I felt the need to spend half an hour looking at diaper bags because I couldn’t find one that was feminine enough and yet masculine enough and c.)helping me to figure out the mechanical workings of the “travel systems” while also ensuring that they fit our ridiculous size standards. (BTW – proof that some things are just genetic: my sister did the exact same one button-accidental collapse of the exact same stroller as I did back at Thanksgiving. We didn’t register for that one because we figure that, if two educated and intelligent females can collapse it accidentally then Owen would be destined to accidentally send poor Sam flying across the mall parking lot some day by mistake.)
I also wanted to thank Katie (though I’m not sure if she reads this or not) for loaning us her high chair. We brought it home this weekend and have figured out all the levers already! Thanks, Katie, for sharing.
Next week we go in for another of our “big visits” as the OB likes to call them. Among other things, she will be ordering more blood work to check my blood sugar levels. She tells me that if I pass this one, I’m almost completely in the clear for gestational diabetes. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to have ultra sounds that day or not but, of course, as usual, I will post them ASAP if I do.
Alas, I am late for bed now and must go. Have a good week, all, and I will do my best not to slack so much that I don’t post every day or so.
1 comment:
God didn't give us the capacity to come up with drugs as fantastic as the epidural to let some fanatical "do what's best for the baby" people talk you out of it. They are obviously delusional and masochistic. A deadly combination.
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