Damn Gina! That’s a lot of Pregnant!

I am like, really super pregnant.    Have you noticed?    The other day, I made Scott come with me to the supermarket (which he really hates doing, something about everyone being idiots…) because I no longer wish to go out on my own for fear that strangers will get all up in my business.    I’ve noticed, however, that if I drag my husband with me, the creepoid to touching me ratio goes down significantly, and so now I prefer to be accompanied by Scott at all times (which I generally prefer anyway, because I really like that guy.)    I am so full of baby now, that there isn’t a moment of the day where I’m not aware that there’s a human inside of my body.   She’s wigglin’ around in there, elbowing me in the guts, kicking me in the ribs, and being a general disturbance to my internal comfort.   Secretly, I kind of love it.   Outwardly, my complaining is at an all time high.   (I’m Jewish.   We live to kvetch.   It’s something I don’t think my catholic hubby fully understood until he knocked me up.   Oh well, you’re stuck with me now, Shanny.)

Last week, we took our first (and only) birthing class, and man was it stupid.   We decided to go for an intensive five hour version instead of the 5 week course, because we’re big procrastinators, and I’m glad we did, because there’s no way we would have gone back for more after the remedial first hour of that nonsense.    We learned where babies come from.   Seriously.   And then we learned how they get out.   Seriously.   And when the RN was asking (what I at first assumed to be rhetorical, but quickly realized she was seriously asking if we knew) questions about stages of labor and mucus plugs, there were folks in the class who eagerly scribbled down the answer like this was all brand new information.    And so I ask you…how does someone get to be 8 mos pregnant, and not know what a mucus plug is?   (If you don’t know, I hope you’re not pregnant, in which case you’re better off not knowing for the time being.   And if you are pregnant, read a damn book!   Jeez!)   Anyway – there was some Lamaze included in this class, but not nearly as much as there was talking about how awesome it is that they can put morphine in your epidural and keep you numb for days.   And when it came time for the breathing practice (which was the impetus for us having taken this course) I could tell that my husband had reached his limit and was no longer “in it” because his wide “I can’t believe we paid for this shit” eyes were making me laugh when I was supposed to be relaxing and visualizing my contractions rising and falling like waves.   (We do still plan to practice the breathing at home, so we got a book…because I don’t want to be totally unprepared come game time.)   It was basically a really expensive L&D tour with an emphasis on hospital policy.   Money well spent, for sure.   (I totally don’t wish I’d spent it on a really nice prenatal massage instead.   Oh wait, yes I do.)

Here’s the update:

How far along? 35 Weeks.   35 Days to go.   Holy crap.
Total weight gain/loss: Whatever.
Stretch marks? I think I’ve angered them.   I fear my tattoo will never be the same.
Sleep: Can’t get enough.
Best moment this week: She tickles me now.   I can almost picture those little fingers.
Movement: Oh yeah.
Food cravings: Rice Krispie treats have taken over my subconscious mind.
Gender: Girl.
Labor Signs: a LOT of painless Braxton Hicks.
Belly Button in or out? Still in.   Almost flat.
What I miss: Being comfortable ever.
What I am looking forward to: Oh, lots of things.
Weekly Wisdom: Skip the birthing class your hospital offers.
Milestones: 35/35!   That’s a big deal in pregnancy land!

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