The Home Stretch...

It looks as though I am about to have a heck of a lot more blogging time on my hands for the next couple of weeks. However, it also looks as though I am going to have substantially less to write about, unless you consider the plot lines of old Law and Order reruns on USA blog-worthy.

As of tomorrow, I am officially on bed rest. Because I am retaining a substantial amount of water and she does not want it to turn into preeclampsia, the doctor has ordered me to stop going to work and spend the vast majority of every day either with my feet elevated above my heart in the recliner or in bed. It’s serious, but it’s nothing worth getting into hysterics over. I was allowed to come back to work yesterday and also to come in today to get things in order.

Also, she says that the baby is absolutely fine. In fact, the technician swore she could make out hair during the sonogram. After all sorts of measuring and extrapolation, she estimates him to be at about 7 ½ pounds right now and, theoretically, he’ll be gaining about an ounce a day until delivery. He is also very active. In fact, we could watch him moving on the screen during the ultra-sound yesterday. He kept putting his hands up to his face. I’m happy to say that he’s in the right position (that was also a fear the doctor had) and ready to go.

Here is one of the printouts from yesterday’s visit:


According to the technician, this is a profile of the side of his face and he has his hand in his mouth. Now that he's so much bigger, I think it's a little harder to see, but I can kind of see it.

Mommy's little fashionista

Okay...so it's really me, Sam doesn't care a lick what he wears. But I wanted him to have a special outfit to come home from the hospital in. Besides...it was on sale.

How do I know spring is here?

Because...Owen has started pushing the snowblower through the yard, blowing the snow onto our blacktop driveway to make it melt faster. Doesn't your husband do that?

A dying dog's last words?

I am remarkably out of touch lately. I know I am doing a shameful job at blog upkeep (though not nearly as bad as Owen, I bet. I quit even looking at his). This lack of dedication can be attributed to the following activities which now consume my life:

#1: Sleep. I go to bed at or before 9 every night now. This is because I don’t sleep well and am perpetually tired.

#2: Using the restroom. I now go to the bathroom about 10-12 times per day, each time to dispose of approximately 2 teaspoons of fluid.

#3: Work. Believe it or not (this fact seems to shock people continually) I am still working each and every day. I used to say that this was because I couldn’t get comfortable at home, so I might as well be miserable at work and save my sick time. Now it’s simply out of sheer financial need since I could be more comfortable at home. This is due almost entirely to my wardrobe which is miserating (definition: makes one miserable. I made it up). I am having a new love affair with my pajamas.

#4: Reclining. I come home from work at about 4 every day and must proceed immediately (after taking off my pants, which is always my first priority) to elevating my feet. This is because by the end of the day they look remarkably like Grandpa Bob’s feet. Now, I love G-Bob with all my heart, but I’ll tell you damn skippy it isn’t for his feet. I have a gift certificate for a pedicure but I am too embarrassed to use it because my feet look so bad. My sister and I used to joke that we had Fred Flintstone feet. I now know that, compared with my current feet, those feet were precious and dainty.

I was so exhausted on Sunday from my big fun girls’ weekend that I could hardly move. And because I was bad and spent too much time on my feet, I could hardly bend my knees or feet. As a result, I spent much of the evening just lying in bed. I told Owen that I felt like a Dog who knows he’s come to the end of the line. You know…when they know they’re going to die and so they just lay on their side on the floor and wait for it. The only movement they can muster is to occasionally allow their weepy eyes to scan the room. He thought it was funny.

We have had a good time relating to pregnancy in terms of metaphor. A few weeks ago I told him I felt like one of those huge papier maché piñatas kids make out of balloons in elementary school – all big and round and tight. He laughed, pointing out that both the piñata and I come with prizes inside. I then felt the urgent need to remind him that we would not be getting to my “prize” by beating me with a stick. He looked at me and smiled with a shrug, saying “you never know.”

According to Baby Center, as of Sunday we were officially considered “full term.” This means we have reached the 36 week/9 month mark. However, Sam still isn’t due for another month. He isn’t doing much new on the development front. Basically, he’s just putting on the chub and smoothing out the wrinkles.

I have just come from the first of my now-weekly appointments with the obstetrician. It looks like everything is going well and I have a new ultra sound picture. I know what you must be thinking…didn’t I tell you that I was told there would be no more ultra sounds? This is true, I did. I also said that would be the case if everything was normal.

Due to a large, round, head-shaped protrusion on the upper right part of my abdomen, the doctor was a little concerned that Sam might be in the breech position. She did all the poking and squeezing she could to determine his position but was unable to figure out what was going on and so in rolled the sonogram machine. It turns out that he’s not in the breech position and everything is normal. That big round protrusion happens to be his rear-end which is, according to the doctor, quite firm. He obviously doesn’t get that from me.

Here is the sonogram picture. According to the doctor, it’s his head, though I’d be hard-pressed to have told you that on my own. I am also happy to report that his most recent parts inventory indicates that everything is present and accounted for.

Friday Potpourri

Well, I’ve got to say, it has been a LONG week. The fact that we’ve had something going on every night combined with the fact that I have to prop my feet up for at least 3 hours in order to make the imprint from my shoes go away means that I haven’t had much free time. Actually, my feet are disgusting and I’m glad I can’t really see them anymore.

I was looking through the Microsoft clip art today while working on the weekly office newsletter when I discovered something kind of cool. They actually have a piece of clip art that looks like a baby with two mommies. It made me smile and I was proud of Microsoft for being so open-minded if they did it on purpose. I’m not entirely convinced it wasn’t an accident. But I was happy to find it there none the less. Unless…am I giving them too much credit? That’s certainly what it looks like to me. What do you think?
Also, I learned a very important rule of physics today: Do not ever tip an office chair on two legs to avoid having to get out of it to reach something. They have wheels that roll and sooner than you know you will be laying face-down on the floor with the chair partially on top of you. However, if you’re graceful like me, you will manage this feat absolutely soundlessly, and your coworkers will be none the wiser. If you are also massively deformed like me, it will take you 10 minutes of heavy breathing to recover from the strain of hauling yourself up off the floor in the time it take a mousetrap to discharge, lest one of your coworkers stumble upon you in a pile on the floor.

It is 4:00 yet?

Another doctor visit...

Well…having just returned from our umpteenth doctor visit, I can assure you all once more than Sam and I are both doing very well. He is in the proper position and his heartbeat is normal. I have gained only 1 pound since my last visit a month ago (this is a good thing!). My blood pressure is up just a little but it’s okay since it has actually been lower than normal since I got pregnant.

The doctor also tells me that it is pretty normal to see spots when I try to tie my shoes and that my unexplainable outbursts of rage at work are also to be expected.

This is what I would look like if I was a monkey.
Or if I was wearing a really convincing monkey suit.