can I get some cheese with that whine?

I hate the comments about my size that come from strangers–yes, I know I’m huge, yes, I’m due any day now. I have body issues. I really, really don’t want to talk about my body with people I barely know (and that includes the really annoying neighbor who said, “Oh, your navel is protruding!” when I went out to get the mail. Um, fucking rude).

But what’s worse that that, even, is the question that my mother, my mother-in-law, and another random neighbor have all hit me with, “So, how much are you dilated?”

Honestly. At what point is it appropriate to ask about the state of someone’s cervix? Here’s a hint: The answer is NEVER. Not even if the person in question is 10 months pregnant and the size of a house and begging the fetus to just vacate, already, and turn into a baby. Yes, I’m miserable. No, discussing the size of my cervix is not going to make me feel any better about this pregnancy.

Why is there a totally different etiquette for dealing with pregnant women? Why is it okay to comment on things you would never, ever say to anyone else? (GB, sympathizing, said, “I find it hard to believe anyone would ever consider asking me about the size of my prostate.”)

Yes, my hormones are at Full Rage Mode. But it’s not just hormones. It’s common fucking courtesy.


I always hate the phone–I have serious phone-avoidance issues, even on my best days. But lately? I. Hate. The phone.

I just paid our cell phone bill for the past month: almost $50 in overage charges. I guarantee that all 100 of those extra minutes consisted of this conversation:

(me): Hi.

(friend/family member): Are you having the baby?????

(me) No.

(f/fm, disappointedly): Oh. How do you feel?

(me): miserable.*

(f/fm, even more disappointedly): Oh.

I absolutely love that my family and friends are so happy for us about H., and that so many people are excited for him to show up. Really. I love that. But seriously? Right now, no one wants H here more than I do, and while I understand my loved ones’ impatience and excitement, I have spent way too many really expensive minutes reassuring them that H will, in fact, show up eventually, and no, i have no idea when that will be.*

(Which I actually don’t believe, anymore. I think he’s taken up permanent residence. I realized this morning that I no longer believe that he’s actually coming out, and that I will just have this giant head in my pelvis forever.)


*I woke up last night to pee (one of the many times), and I could not get up. I mean literally. I could not haul myself up to a sitting position. I was lying on my right side–always harder to get up from, partly because I can’t just roll off the bed and partly because all of H’s heavy parts are on my right side (he sticks his butt way up all the time, so it’s very easy to see where his butt and back are–and the ultrasound confirmed he’s in exactly the position I thought he was). I tried three times. I Could. Not. Get. Up. I was cussing like a sailor by the time I finally rolled onto my left side and flopped myself over the edge of the bed. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Poor GB. Living with me is not easy.

**My mom has asked me twice now if my doctors have talked about inducing labor. I keep reminding her that my due date is, technically, next week. She says she knows, she’s just wondering….Ugh.

Because the Giant Annoyances are getting overwhelming…

  • Why can’t I get any good watermelon? I keep buying the cups of cut watermelon at the store (because I am WAY too lazy to chop my own watermelon right now) and it’s just never sweet. Is it just too early? Is there no good watermelon in this part of the country? (I know there are no good tomatoes in this state, which is another source of endless annoyance to me…My Home State, and East Coast State, have spoiled me on tomatoes.) All I’m asking for is one sweet watermelon. I’m not sure why that’s so hard.
  • GB and I watched, and loved, the first four seasons of The Wire. Thanks to everyone who recommended it! We finished season 4 last night, though, and Season 5 isn’t out on DVD yet. And it was on HBO On Demand awhile back, but now it’s not. So. Will I ever get to see season 5? And if so, how? Or will it come out on DVD after H shows up, and then it’ll be, like, years before GB and I get a chance to watch the next season? I want to watch it NOW, dammit! Anyone know anywhere I can find it?
  • Heartburn. I still have it. This kid is as low as he can possibly go without being outside, and I still have toes up in my ribs and heartburn/reflux. What’s up with that? Do I have a future NBA star in there? GB and I are not tall people, but this kid is taking up all the space he can.
  • Water. Where is it going? I’m drinking more than 100 ounces of water a day–I refill the 34oz Bubba Keg at least three times a day, and I try to go for four. Yet my lips are constantly dry and I’m parched. Every single time I’ve been to L&D, they’ve told me I’m dehydrated. Where is all this water I’m drinking going?
  • Oh, wait, I know where it’s going–straight to my fucking calves. My calves are unbelievably, ridiculously swollen. I mentioned the inch-deep indentation when I pressed my foot against my shin, right? It’s completely freakish. What possible use is it to me or the baby to store fluid in my calves?
  • (On the bright side, I thought my calves were just really, really fat, and was actually a little relieved to discover that it’s mostly swelling.)

(Yes, another super whiny post. You’ve been warned.)

So, for the past few days I have been Freaking. Out.

The anxiety and the panic attacks are back in full force, and after going 38 weeks without ever once calling my doctor’s after-hours line, I’ve called twice in the past two days and spent a couple hours at the hospital last night for monitoring.

Friday night I sat for a couple minutes with my foot pressed against my other shin, and when I moved my leg there was this gigantic indentation about 2 inches long and, seriously, almost an inch deep. It was insane. It looked like someone had whacked my shinbone with a hammer, and it took about 10-15 minutes to go away. Naturally, I freaked out. The on-call doctor (the one I like the most in the practice) said it probably wasn’t a big deal unless my blood pressure was weird.

So I try to calm down, and then the next day (Saturday) I went (of course) to check my blood pressure. Normally my bp is really low–normal for me is about 90/60. Yesterday afternoon it was 135/85, which is the highest I’ve ever seen it. So I freaked out for awhile. I was feeling really crappy all day yesterday anyway (probably about 95% anxiety/panic induced–I recognize this in retrospect), and GB and I sat down to try to watch more of The Wire and I was just not calming down. So I called the dr. again (the guy I’m not crazy about, this time) and he suggested I go to L&D for monitoring.

Things seemed fine there. My bp was in the 120s/70s or 80s, which they feel okay with (even though it’s high for me), and Hank looked good on the monitors, so they didn’t keep us long. But. Before we left they wanted to do an exam to check on my (lack of) progress, and Oh My Fucking God, friends, I’ve had these exams before–but this one made me cry. Seriously, I don’t know what this nurse’s deal was, but Holy Fucking Ow. And I’m all, Oh, I have a high pain tolerance. But holy shit. Made me cry, bleed, and cramp for hours afterward. Oh, and I learned that progress, I have made none.

So now I don’t know what to make of these cramps and contractions I’ve been having all day. GB went to work for a few hours, and I’m trying to figure out if they’re timeable or if they’re just kind of there–and it’s hard to tell, really. They’re definitely worse than any I’ve had yet, but I’m still thinking they’re not the Real Thing. So I’m trying ot chill out, overall, and not time them now, until they start demanding more of my attention.

But the biggest issue here is the fucking anxiety. It’s hit a pretty unbearable point. I’m constantly freaking out (and I mean ALL DAY LONG, every day, and every time I wake up at night) that my blood pressure is fucked up, that I have blood clots in my legs, that H. isn’t moving enough, that Something Terrible is going to happen to me, H., and/or GB. More than anything else that’s going on right now–the pain, the discomfort, the not sleeping–the anxiety is making me crazy. I am No Fun. I can’t concentrate, I can’t relax, and I can’t stop worrying. And that fucking exam was so painful that I am now having Serious Doubts about my ability to handle the whole childbirth thing, and I have lost any modicum of confidence I had in that department.

So there you have it. I’m a freaking mess. And I want to just get H. out here and get that part all over with, and I also want to just keep him in there forever at this point.

Can I have a handful of Klonopin and a martini now, please?

You know all those stay-put-H vibes that y’all have been sending for the past few weeks? They were greatly appreciated, and I’m thrilled that (with all y’all’s help, of course) we’ve gotten H. to full term.

But you can stop sending the stay-put-H vibes now. I’m ready for an outside baby.

Over the weekend I was pretty sure things were starting up. I was having contractions that were totally different than what I’d been having before, and I just felt…weird. But after a couple of hours the contractions stopped. We’re calling it prelabor, because “false labor” is just far too depressing.

I just got back from the doctor, where I learned that progress is being made on the effacement front, and H.’s head is “engaged,” which is good, I suppose. (Although it also explains why going from a sitting to standing position has become excruciatingly painful.) On the dilating front, though, not so much of the progress (like, none, really). Yes, I know i’m not quite 38 weeks, even, but all that prelabor crap really fucked with my expectations for when H. would be arriving. And I am feeling discouraged, and exhausted, and done.

I’m trying to remind myself that we *are* making progress, albeit slowly. And I want H. to stay in there as long as he needs to (within reason). But I’m officially over resting-while-I-can, and enjoying-this-time, and dreading-the-unknown.

So now I’m not quite sure what to hope for in the immediate future, but I think it’s getting close to something like bring-on-the-baby.

I am so freaking out of sorts. I’m so freaking grumpy that my sister (who’s had three kids) thinks it means I’m about to go into labor. Which just makes me grumpier, of course.

I have to whine. I tried to fight the need to do it, but I can’t. I. Must. Whine. Random bullets of whining ahead:

  • GB is stressed and overwhelmed and a complete crankypants lately. This also makes his depression worse. So we’re all cranky with each other right now, which is completely counterproductive to easing either of our anxiety. We’re trying to get back on the same page, but it’s a struggle.
  • This situation makes me feel like I’m all alone in my stress/anxiety/fear/uncertainty, which makes me even crankier in return.
  • I’m dealing with hormones from hell. I feel like I’m back in the first trimester. I’m totally weepy and emotional and depressed and volatile all the time now. No fun.
  • Both of my wrists are *killing* me. (That would be the pregnancy carpal tunnel.) I have wrist splints for both of them, and they help a little. But ow. They are SO fucking sore. Everything hurts.
  • Seriously, *everything* hurts. Getting out of bed is a painful, complicated, time-consuming process. My back hurts. My hips hurt. My crotch hurts like a motherfucker. This kid couldn’t be any lower and still be on the inside.
  • Did I mention getting out of bed hurts? And takes forever? Seriously, I am like an upturned beetle. And I get up to pee two or three times a night.
  • I walked to 7-11 to get eggs, so I could make cupcakes, which I thought might help. 7-11 is maybe 1/2  a block from my house. It’s the longest walk I’ve done in a while. Within about half an hour, I felt so crappy that I was pretty much convinced that I was going into labor RIGHT NOW. I drank a bunch of water (and ate a cupcake) and I’m a little better, but it totally pisses me off that I can’t do anything.
  • My family (just my immediate family–parents and siblings’ families) wants to have a reunion this August. We haven’t all been together in about four years. I would love to see everyone together and let them all meet H., but I *did not* volunteer to be the planner for the whole fucking reunion. As it happens, though, I am. If I don’t plan it, it’s not going to happen–that’s abundantly clear. Not sure if I’m going to keep trying to plan or not.
  • I can’t stop eating today. And yesterday. I think it’s stress, and not really hunger. But it’s not really helping.
  • GB and I started watching The Wire, and I want to like it, but I am so stressed and so tired that I can’t even follow it. We’re about 6 episodes in and I have very little idea what’s going on, who people are, and what the fuck is happening. GB likes it, so I’m guessing it’s good, but basically “watching” it for me involves staring at the TV while my brain does fourteen other things.
  • I’m afraid that H. will show up too soon (I’m pretty much anxious about him showing up every single day), and I’m afraid that he won’t, and that I’ll have five (or, god forbid, 7) more weeks of this. I’m afraid of the whole labor/delivery experience. I’m afraid of something being wrong with H. I’m afraid of dying. (That last one is a *much* bigger fear than it really should be–not so surprising, given my anxiety/panic background.) I’m constantly worried about awful things happening to GB (this is how my OCD manifests most obviously, to me at least). I am, in short, a giant ball of anxiety.
  • Cupcakes aren’t helping. People, listen to me: CUPCAKES AREN’T HELPING. I never thought I’d see this day.
  • I cannot get a single fucking thing done on the dissertation. Nothing. I am completely stuck. One of my school friends passed his defense on Monday. I am thrilled for him, and I now feel *completely* incompetent. Okay, I say, maybe it’s not fair to compare myself to him. But you know what? I have a very good school friend–my best friend in my program–who started at the same time as me. She’s also pregnant, and due 2 weeks before us–so basically, any day now. She just–like, this week–completed her dissertation and will be defending in July. So yeah. It’s kind of hard for me to not feel like a gigantic loser.
  • I CAN’T STOP WHINING. But I can stop whining in this particular post, for right now. I expect there will be more later.

Yeah, so, I seem to have developed pregnancy-induced Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

(I had carpal tunnel problems years ago, working at a particularly horrific temp job, and had all kinds of physical therapy and crap on my wrists…none of which did as much good as quitting the horrible temp job. Apparently, from what I read, this will go away….a few weeks after the baby’s born. Yeah. Lovely.)

My left wrist started hurting a little a couple days ago, and my right one was a smidge achy the next day.

Now my left wrist has progressed to shooting pains if I pick anything up, turn it at all, or look at it meanly.

Gotta love the swelling and the hormones. Oh, no, wait, I don’t actually have to love them. I can keep bitching and bitching.

I do keep reminding myself that, as annoying pregnancy developments go, this is not a particularly terrible one. It could be much worse, and I’m glad it’s not. But still. I’m starting to think that my body does not love being pregnant.

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