Losing my mind? You be the judge.

I have officially become obsessed with Diet Mountain Dew. And I’m almost 7 months pregnant. Those two sentences really shouldn’t ever be so close together.

The thing is I’m certainly not the pregnant lady that makes all others look bad by giving up caffeine completely as soon as she finds out she’s pregnant. I definitely have cut back, especially when it comes to coffee, but I see no reason to go cold turkey on the stuff when most doctors and midwives, including mine, advise that in moderation, small amounts are just fine. So really, the fact that I haven’t completely given up caffeine has not really bothered me. (Though I will admit to feeling little twinges of guilt/defensiveness as I fill up my tiny little cup of half-caf every morning when someone’s waiting right behind me, only because I feel like people judge.)

Anyway, for some reason, drinking Diet Mountain Dew makes me feel like a bad mom, while the occasional Diet Coke or cup of coffee have given me no worries. With every sip, I imagine my baby growing horns or turning a shade of fluorescent yellow. I am SO IRRATIONAL! I looked up the caffeine amounts of each drink, and here’s how they compare:

12 oz can of Diet Mountain Dew: 55mg caffeine
12 oz can of Diet Coke: 46.5mg caffeine
8 oz brewed coffee: 80-135mg caffeine

So yea, there’s not too big of a difference as far as the two sodas go, and clearly I should be more worried about my morning coffee than the other two as it is.

Still there’s something about Mountain Dew that makes it seem so much more unnatural than all the other sodas. Again, they’re all horrible for you, if anything I should be worrying about the aspartame that’s in all diet drinks which could, in fact, someday be proven to cause the development of gills or severe overbites on babies or something.

Ok, writing about this has not made me feel any better. I'm not saying I thought it would, but, well, there you go. Still imagining my baby being born with a tail.

What else, what else… I’m 30 weeks pregnant! Fricken in the 30’s already! That is insanity. I can’t believe how close we are to meeting whoever is in there doing ninja kicks to my bladder on a constant basis. Oh, last night I was talking to this other pregnant chick at our birth class, and she can still sometimes go an entire night without getting up to pee. I almost punched her. I mean seriously! It’s every 1 ½ - 2 hours for me, like clockwork, and it’s been that way since, God I don’t know, 18-20 weeks? As long as I can remember anyway, I pretty much went right from morning sickness to peeing all the time.

Last night we watched another birth video, and this one was one of the full-on-crowning-crotch-shot videos, and my goodness, my hoo-hoo hurt just watching it. It’s almost hard to believe that our bodies are actually meant… to do that. Anyway, I love how the Bradley videos were all shot in the 70’s & 80’s. All the hairstyles (upstairs and down) and clothing are so dated and hilarious, and Dan and I both came to the realization last night that he should have started growing out his moustache a LONG time ago if he was really going to look the part of a Bradley coach. All kidding aside, it’s easy to get over all that stuff quickly because these women are so inspiring. Last night’s mom was ridiculously calm, even laughing at points throughout late 1st stage, matter-of-factly telling someone who has come to visit that she’s at 9 cm and has been there for a while. She was just so amazing, I’m going to have to try to channel her when my time comes.

I do think I’ve come to a realization about what my major childbirth fear is – basically, I’m mostly freaked out by the pushing part. I think of 1st stage labor as a marathon, a test of endurance, something that is as much mental as it is physical. But 2nd stage, or pushing, is like hard core sprinting at the end of that marathon. You’re physically and mentally exhausted after hours and hours (and hours) of this major endurance test, and then after all of that is behind you, you’ve still got to do this one last thing that is SUPER HARD CORE work. You have to sprint that last mile. Everything you’ve done before has lead you down this path, and there’s no turning back, you have to finish this out strong.

You see, I am not a sprinter. I’m athletic, but I don’t win things. I was never and will never be the best person on the team. I run a good, easy 9 minute mile, and I don’t even care to try to do it faster. I don’t know, I guess that’s why 2nd stage seems so scary to me. But I guess that’s ok, you bring those kinds of fears to the surface, you figure out how you’re going to combat them, or prepare for them, and you’re that much better off, right?

Sure!

Poker Face

I had my first belly-related injury today, and I’m surprised it took me so long, as non-pregnant Alicia is pretty much a certifiable klutz as it is. I have this old-school big metal desk at work that locks by key in the very center. Picture a big rectangular desk, three drawers on each side and space for the chair and a person’s legs in the middle. (Ok, I just described like, a totally normal, every-day typical desk. It’s likely I could have assumed that those who are reading this are not morons and can picture a desk, when I say, “desk”. But there you have it. Picture a desk.) Right above where the chair/my thighs sit, is where the desk locks. I’ve always just kept the key in there, because frankly I have no need to lock my desk, and I don’t want to lose it. Well today, as I reached to get something from across the desk, somehow I managed to scrape up my belly on the key. This protruding belly of mine has really started to resemble a torpedo and I’m finding that it is very easy for it to get in the way. Also on a related note, I cannot suck in and squeeze past people sitting in chairs or standing in line or what-have-you. Just another thing I repeatedly keep forgetting.

Last night, I swear the baby was dancing around in my belly to the music. I was lying on the couch at like 10:00 PM, watching some replay of the MTV Movie Awards, and the Lady Gaga “Poker Face” song came on as a presenter came out and the belly was all, “thump thump thump” seriously to the beat of the music. I might think I was totally imagining it if it didn’t happen again five minutes later when Eminem was performing. So freaking cool. Clearly my baby is going to be into the whole clubbing scene, I’ll have to watch out for that, teach him or her to “JUST SAY NO” at a very young age. Just in case.

Gotta go, planned to actually write about my weekend, but got side tracked and now it’s time to go head out to yoga. I’ll try to get back here tomorrow.

Pregnant Lady Drama

I wrote what is written below last week on Wednesday afternoon, and never posted it, basically because I failed the Glucose screening test and pretty much had a minor meltdown in the wake of finding out. That day was like the worst day of my life. Actually, two days later, Friday, was probably worse, because that was the day I had to fast for 12 hours prior and take the 3-hour Glucose Tolerance Test to determine whether or not I really did have Gestational Diabetes. I realize I’m a bit over-dramatic, but I was just so disappointed and scared and convinced that the test would come back abnormal, I would from here on be deemed a “high risk” pregnancy, my hopes of a natural birth with minimal interventions would be squashed, and I could look forward to nearly three months of counting carbs and meticulously planning out my meals. Anyway, I was a wreck, and really embarrassed for some reason, so I didn’t really tell anyone except Dan, and then Lisa and Betsy when we had lunch Friday afternoon.

Well, today I got the call from my Midwife (I had to wait ALL WEEKEND LONG for the results… torture.) The test came back totally normal and my blood sugar is just fine, so no stupid Gestational Diabetes. That call was such a relief. Thus, my advice to all pregnant ladies is, whether they tell you to or not, fast for the 1-hour screening test, for a full 12 hours. Don’t even drink coffee (I did) or chew gum (I did). Because while the 3-hour test is obviously not fun, the worst part about it all is not knowing, stressing, feeling totally alone, and being scared to even eat the tiny little fresh peach sitting on your desk.

Last Wednesday’s rambling…

So I literally just finished drinking that nasty glucose orange drink, and I’m sitting and waiting my one hour in the doctor’s office waiting room (listening to the woman just two seats away from me hack and cough like she’s about to die, lovely). I am feeling kind of miserable actually. I made my appointment last week and, per usual, went for something in the afternoon so that I could be in the office for a relatively normal work day and just get in the rest of my hours from home after seeing the doctor.

Well, as I was hanging up with the nurse, I asked if there was anything I could do to try to prevent a false positive screening result. I had read that it’s very common to get a false positive, and I’d love to avoid having to come in for a 3-hour test only to determine that I do not have gestational diabetes. Anyway, she decided to inform me then that some would advise that you fast for 12 hours before the test, but their office didn’t necessarily make that recommendation. Since I get all awkward and ridiculous and nervous when I’m on the phone with grown-ups (shut up) I just sort of thanked her and ended the phone call. I decided I would fast, but the implications of fasting for 12 hours before a 2:00 PM appointment didn’t really sink in right away. Clearly I should have called right back and changed my appointment when they did, but of course I didn’t do that, because I so rarely do things that I should do. I made the executive decision that 8 hours of fasting would be good enough, so I did have a bagel and yogurt this morning at 6:00. Still, this is the longest I’ve gone without eating since, well, definitely since before I was pregnant. So here I am, STARVING, a bit shaky even, and burping that disgusting orange drink that I had to down in 3 minutes… just waiting for my hour to be up. Also, I noticed on the drive over that my cell phone is completely dead. I hate feeling all disconnected from the world. Dan is going to be annoyed with me when he tries to call.

What an annoying day. And all I can think about now is what I’m going to have for “lunch” at 3:45 PM after I finally get out of here. Hmm… I am totally getting something good, maybe something from D’Amico’s down the street.*

Goodness, I apologize for my rambling, I’m just trying to make this time go faster.

I’m going to go pee, maybe that will do it.

*I definitely didn’t go get something good to eat after my appointment, because frankly, I was freaking out that I might have Gestational Diabetes and didn’t want to eat anything with too many carbs or sugar. Also, I was sobbing the entire drive home… so yea. Lame, I know.

I know, all I talk about is this baby...

I've decided Target’s baby registry pretty much sucks. Well first of all, let’s start with the in-store selection. Sucks. We registered this weekend and basically they have 4 aisles of crap, and that’s it. Then you go online, and there is SO MUCH more of a selection and completely different products available. Seriously, have you looked at baby clothes online at Target? It is just a plethora of adorableness, and an amazing amount of different gender-neutral clothing. Of course it’s online-only, so if your loved ones aren’t used to shopping that way, you’re kind of out-of-luck. Whatever, I added tons of online-only stuff to our registry today because I just couldn’t help it. I simply can’t take any more of the pastel yellow and green ducks & chicks stuff that was pretty much all we saw at both Babies-R-Us and Target this weekend when we registered. Ducks and chicks are fine. Pastel yellow and green are fine. There’s just so much other stuff out there, it’s a shame none of the stores actually carry it.

These annoyances lead me to be super naughty and purchase a bunch of outfits online about ten minutes ago. So dangerous, this whole “shopping for my baby” thing is, everything is just so hard to resist. (No, there is absolutely no good reason why I just typed that in yoda-speak.)

I’m getting slightly impatient for this kid’s estimated time of arrival to just be here already! That doesn’t mean we’re at all ready, we are so far on the not-ready side of things it stresses me out to think about it. If I had the baby tomorrow, he or she would have to sleep in the dog’s bed because I’m still waiting on our crib, we’d likely use Dan’s old softball t-shirts as diapers, and well, we wouldn’t even be allowed to take our child home in our car seat-less automobiles, so someone that already has a baby would have to come pick us up at the hospital. (Any volunteers?)

So when I say I’m getting impatient, I’m really referring to my excitement about just finally getting to meet this little urchin that’s been growing inside of me for the past six months. I can’t wait to hold and squeeze and smell and kiss our little baby, see what our little monkey looks like. =) I also wouldn’t mind not being pregnant anymore; my wardrobe is becoming quite stale, not to mention I hate getting dressed every day. I just want to wear yoga pants and a comfy bra and tank top every single day, please. I digress.

I know he or she needs to stay put for three more months. Honestly I don’t even want to go early, because I’d like to make it to my baby shower, which is planned for when I’ll be about 38 weeks pregnant. (Yea, I know, we’ll see if that happens.) So stay put little baby, don’t be getting any ideas! And if you promise to stay in there, I promise to actually have somewhere for you to sleep when you get out. If anything, I’ll try to have the dog’s bed washed.

Whoa

So last night I went to put on my pajamas and noticed a little wet crusty stain RIGHT on the nipple area. Good Lord, I’m already starting to leak colostrum. I had heard that this can happen during pregnancy, but it still took me by surprise, and for some reason made the whole actually having a baby thing feel all the more imminent. Like this is totally happening, three months from now I will be breastfeeding my child twelve times a day and subsisting on little tiny increments of sleep. In the words (or word, I suppose) of the great Joey Lawrence of Blossom fame, “Whoa.”

Don’t worry, I’m not just realizing this now, but I don’t care what anyone says, having junk leak from your boobs for the first time sorta throws you for a loop.

So Dan and his dad have been working like dogs on our basement every evening this week, and I should thank the lucky stars every single day that we have a plumber in the family willing to do free work for us during his very limited free time. I don’t even want to think about how much MORE money we’d be spending on our basement remodel if we didn’t have Dan’s dad. I am so grateful, I just hate that he’s had to spend so much time there when he surely has so many better things he’d rather be doing. The poor man works all day trying to make money to feed his family, then comes to our house and works all evening for what? A free meal and a few beers are about all he’s willing to take from us. I just had to put this out in the universe, because that man deserves so much good Karma.

I’ve started doing the day-care search thing, and my goodness is that stressful. Imagine that, the process of finding a stranger to watch over your kid who isn’t even born yet is stressful… who would have thought? Seriously though, I had no idea where to start. I know the most desirable way of going about it is soliciting referrals from family and friends, but I didn’t think that was feasible, as most of my mom-friends live in a totally different part of the city. So yesterday I spent hours doing the internet thing, looking at both child care centers and licensed in-home day cares through mnchildcard.org. It’s a great website, gives addresses and phone numbers, enrollment vacancies, hours, and a few generic tidbits about each provider’s experience, education, and environment. But goodness, what am I supposed to do, just start calling these random places? I want pictures, I want testimonials, I want mission statements!
So what did I end up doing for hours? I looked up the addresses of these in-home day-cares on Google maps, heading straight to street view, and dissected whether or not the house and neighborhood looks nice enough. ;) This ended up being a pretty good tactic, because a lot of the houses gave me a total “no way, I am not dropping my baby off there” vibe, so I was able to take them off the list immediately. No reason to set up interviews if their house even gives off a bad first impression. I know, my weeding out process sounds sort of superficial, but I think there’s a lot of merit to it.

Then last night I had dinner at my parents’ house and my aunt stopped by. The subject came up and she had an immediate reference for me. Someone I know, but didn’t realize did day care. Someone my aunt knows so well she knew her phone number by heart. Someone who’s been doing day care for 20+ years and maintains such incredible relationships with her kids that she has gone to a number of their high school graduations! Someone who runs a structured, activity and development based program out of her home, which she’s designed so that the child-care portion is completely separate from her family’s living quarters. I don’t know, I’m feeling incredibly optimistic about it. I just talked to her on the phone and set up an interview, and also got some info on her hours and rates (which are a bit higher than I was hoping, but nothing insane). She’s got an opening in September for an infant, which is a few months earlier than I’m looking for, but she seemed to think we could work something out if Dan and I were interested after meeting her and getting a feel for the environment.

Though we haven’t actually decided on anything, I am feeling soooo much better. Frankly, I don’t feel sick to my stomach when I think about it anymore. Childcare is something that I haven’t really wanted to talk about, let alone think about, since we got pregnant, because I already feel so much guilt about having someone else raise my kid. However, I also don’t want to quit my job, for many reasons including 1.) we couldn’t afford it, and 2.) I don’t want to totally put my career on hold. I keep telling myself that I can always change my mind later and consider part time, once I’ve had the baby and have been on maternity leave for a few months, if I realize that there is just no way, emotionally, I can go back full time. But that doesn’t mean I can slack off on finding good childcare, just because I have this “Scenario B” in the back of my head. That’s just something I do, I avoid situations that stress me out and require me to make difficult decisions. Clearly I need to work on that.