Locked and Loaded

About a week ago, the child did some very strange rolly-polly move in my belly and suddenly I was being kicked and punched on both sides of my belly at the same time. I could no longer feel his feet in my ribs, either. Logic dictated that, “Shit, the child has flipped himself sideways” or transverse, for you folks who know what the hell you’re talking about. What other reason could there be for getting raging flails on both sides of my body? I was convinced it was due to those damn exercises, which I will never be doing again, just in case. Plus, the squats made it impossible for me to climb stairs for 3 days.

I bitched and moaned for the entire week about how shitty it was that the kid was sideways. How I was going to have to have a c-section now and how he was doing it just to be a total brat. I threatened to ground him for the rest of eternity unless he did the rolly-polly move the other way, ASAP. I told him I was going to tell on him to the midwives if he didn’t flip. No flipping.

So, today at my appointment I told on him. “I think he may have moved sideways,” I said.
“Let’s check,” she said.
Here’s where she proceeded to grab my belly, trying to find his head…and it hurt, again. It really hurt again. “Huh, I can’t find anythin…OH! There he is…he’s way down here.” Apparently his rolly-polly move was to sufficiently wiggle his way down into my pelvis. His head is so low, she was nearly grabbing my lady bits. I repeat, it hurt.

So. the child’s head is all the way down. My inability to lift my legs without severe pain is completely normal. The fact that my right foot has been swollen for days is completely normal. I’m having contractions every morning for an hour or so starting at about 7am, and it’s completely normal. I had contractions while in the waiting room, also completely normal. Somehow, I’m still pretty sure the child won’t be coming anytime in June but honestly, at this point, I’m very nearly hoping for it.

As the Baby Turns

Dearest Benjamin,

I was inpired by The Girl’s post to have a little misdirection discussion with you. After last week’s visit with the midwife where you were in perfect head down position, where she said you were more likely to stay put than to turn, where she grabbed your head and butt and made you wiggle (sorry about that kid, it hurt me, too), I’m sure you heard your father and I discussing how smart you were. How much smarter you were than we were when we were babies since we were both so misdirected our mothers had to be cut open. We were astounded by your intelligence. We had ourselves an incredibly smart baby. I should’ve known better.

Don’t get me wrong, love, we know you’re smart. We don’t doubt it for one second. You’re just an incredibly intelligent smart-ass. The night after the appointment I began feeling very strange rolling and pushing from you that I hadn’t before. My belly stuck out in weird ways, ways even your father was amazed by. I just thought you were enjoying the steaks he made us. Turns out, you’re so smart you turned the right way just for the midwife and then decided to flip back the other way when we got home. Bad seed.

So, now you’re kicking me in the bladder again and shoving your head into my stomach whenever I eat too much. I have a strange feeling you’ll probably be turning before my next appointment just so I can look like a crazy person for telling the midwife you were ever otherwise. All I ask is that when it’s time for you to be born, you get yourself the right way. The whole rebellious thing is great, but if it requires your momma to be cut open to get you out, you will be grounded until you’re well into your 40’s and then I will marry you off to a large Russian woman who plans to use you as a work mule.

Remember, I warned you.

Love,
Your (not joking) Momma

Light Speed

While talking to Eric this morning, it hit me that we have 6 1/2 weeks until Ben’s predicted arrival. Wait, I don’t think you heard the panic radiating from my fingers…SIX AND A HALF WEEKS! That’s better. We have nothing ready. NOTHING! *insert panicstruck finger freakout here*

I can’t believe how quickly this whole thing has gone by. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly excited to see the little guy. I can’t wait to see who he most resembles, what color his eyes will be, how often he cries, and how well he’ll fit in the car seat so I can leave him to do that crying at my parents’. I am excited, but I’m also scared to death. 6 1/2 weeks is not long enough to get everything ready for him. 6 1/2 weeks is not long enough to become accustomed to the idea of being a mother. And 6 1/2 weeks is definitely not long enough to get used to the idea of no longer feeling these little kicks and flails.

Last night, I pointed to my wiggling belly and giggled to Eric, “Looks like he’s trying to get out!”
“Poor Jess. You’re going to feel a void when he’s out, aren’t you?”
“I’m sure I will for a while.”
He rubbed my belly very sweetly and said, “I’m going to miss it, too. Especially being able to roll over in the mornings and hold you both at one time.”

I’m going to miss that, too.

The Kick Heard Round the World

Eric is now convinced I have a huge alien being inside me and he’s not entirely sure he wants anything to do with it. At least until he comes out and proves himself to be a non-violent human entity.

We were sitting on the couch and Ben started flailing wildly about. As usual, I grabbed Eric’s hand and put it on the part of my belly with the most action. Again, as usual, nothing the minute Eric touches me, for at least a minute or two. Then, suddenly, the child thumps - and I mean, THUMPS - Eric as hard as he can right in his hand. Eric’s response? His eyes get 10 feet high, he exclaims, “WOAH!” and proceeds to yank his hand back as fast as he can.
“That was weird.”
“You should see how it feels from the inside. I told you he hits hard.”
“…..That was weird…..”
“Uh huh….”
“It’s like an alien or something. I’m not putting my hand back there. That scared the shit out of me.”

So, add this to the list one of the million reasons Benjamin is awesome. He’s managed to not only scare the shit out of his father before even being born, but has also convinced him he is some sort of violent, brain eating alien that might just be here to take over the world.

Kick Counts

Benjamin’s been on and off this week. While Pax was sick and spending a lot of time on my lap, Ben was moving around quite a bit. He kicked Pax in the leg once, which completely weirded him out. I got a, “WTF was that” look from him. At least I can say they kinda met. He also seemed to move around a lot when I was crying. I like to think it was his way of consoling me. The past couple of days, though, he’s been really quiet. The stress must’ve taken a lot out of him and it can’t help that I haven’t been feeling all that great - emotionally or physcially.

So, I was worried. I’m always worried but sometimes I get so worried, I decide to be proactive about it. I got up and ate breakfast, then created a kick count chart.

I started the counts immediately after some lunch, got to 10 kicks/movements 20 minutes later. I got to 9 kicks in 12 minutes, it took him another 8 minutes to get to 10. He does it on purpose just to freak me out.

On a side note: I miss my dog like crazy. He should be here. I know what we did was right, it was his time and I know we didn’t rush things. I just really wish it wouldn’t have happened. 16 years is not long enough with someone you love. Human or animal, it’s just not nearly long enough.

GET OFF MY HEAD!

My kid doesn’t move too much. He, like Gail’s Doogal, is the quiet type. Of course, this scares the living shit out of me. I’m convinced he’s either autistic or on the edge of dying at all times. Maybe all that belly laying smooshed his soft spot and, therefore, his brain. Or maybe I played the music too loud and made him deaf, so that’s why he doesn’t move ”enough” when we play music for him. It’s all ridiculous, but this is what pregnancy is. Scaring the shit out of you for no good reason.

The times when he is moving consistently, I call Eric over, “Put your hand here.” He does. Ben stops moving. I swear he does it just to make Eric think I’m insane. This kid’s already a trouble maker.

I have figured out a way to get a couple of little bumps out of him. He HATES when I put anything on my “belly shelf” - you know, the top part of the belly convenient for sitting food, drink, books, etc. - so he smacks at it. If he’s still in breech (which I’m sure he is because all the rough kicks are at my bladder still), then I’d be laying these things right on his head. That makes Ben a very angry boy, but at least I get a couple of thumps feel-able from the outside world.

What a great mom I am, right? Piss off the kid just because I need validation. Yeah, he’s not going to need therapy AT ALL.

Tis I, Benjamin, The King of Sciatica!

Dearest Momma,
You and I have known one another for quite some time now, so I will not sugar coat things. I have tried my best to gently remind you that I am the boss here. I understand it’s a tough transition to make but this is getting ridiculous.

First, a list of demands:
- I need some freakin’ vegetables in my diet, a kid can’t live on cheese, chocolate and granola bars. Jalapenos are great, really, and yes, momma, they are vegetables but not the ONLY ones that exist.
- Stop trying to smoosh me. You can’t sit like that anymore and you definitely cannot sleep like that anymore.
- I’ll wake up and kick you whenever I darn well please. Just because YOU won’t get any exercise, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have to! Besides, how do I know it’s 4am? Like your uterus is this whole planetary system, containing a sun and moon? Tell you what, I’ll get on your schedule when you implement those upgrades.
- Stop trying to wake me up when I’m napping!! Daddy will feel me when I’m good and ready for him to. Back off!
- Your bladder gets in my way. Empty it more often and I won’t need to kick and shove it out of what precious, tiny space I do have.

Should you choose to not comply with these demands, I will continue my current reign of terror on “that nerve” in your back. You know of which I speak. The one that makes your entire left buttcheek hurt, all the way down to your thigh. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I have upped the ante. What was once simple compression of the nerve has become pinching, riding, pulling, biting and plucking like a guitar string. I have, once, even moved over to the right side, just to show you that what you were feeling was only HALF of what could be done.

Really, momma, this is only for your own good. I have tried my best to gently prod you in this direction, but you have refused to listen, therefore I must result to terrorism. I hate for it to be this way, momma, but you’ve left me no choice.

Love,
Benjamin

Benjamin Boogies to Beethoven & Bach

His daddy hates a lot of Beethoven, but Ben? Ben’s lovin’ the stuff. He’s already a rebel.

I decided to give Ben a little music this morning, since he’s supposed to be able to hear a bit at this stage. I wasn’t really expecting anything but I figured it wouldn’t hurt.

I popped my earphones on my belly (at 50% volume) and found my 100 Classical Masterpieces album on the iPod. It started with Eric’s favorite piece, “Sheeps May Safely Graze” by Bach. And Ben MOVED! Not a lot, but he definitely moved. I followed it with Beethoven’s 9th and he began going nuts. He was flopping all around my belly. I followed it with another Beethoven piece, to which he went crazy, too. He didn’t much care for Carmen. I went back to Bach, to which he moved lightly again, then back to Beethoven, to which he went nuts with. I think I know which he prefers.

I also played a little Sigur Ros for him but I think, since it was all in high tones, he had a hard time hearing it. He didn’t move much. I’d love to try a little Aphex Twin with him but I’m worried I’m going to scare the poor baby.

I’ll stick to classical for now. Beethoven. He seems to like that.

Halfway There

I can’t say I’ve enjoyed the majority of this pregnancy. Okay, who am I kidding? I haven’t enjoyed any of this pregnancy. I felt bad about it for a while. I should be happy that I’m carrying a new life, right? I should be able to ignore the sickness, the tiredness the strange change in bodily functions, all the weird growths and changes in body parts. But, I wasn’t able to.

Honestly, the first trimester + a couple weeks, suck. They completely suck. Your body is no longer your own, things grow in strange places and parts of your body begin to look less and less like anything you recognize. Body parts have been removed and replaced by aliens every night. My fat has all moved up to above my belly button. I got heartburn. I had constant gas. I threw up all the time, and when I wasn’t throwing up, I felt like throwing up. It all happens quickly and drastically. It sucks. Not to mention, I never felt assured the baby was safe and okay. There’s no movement to reassure you, either. You’re always sick, worried and confused about what the hell is going on with your body.

Then, suddenly this week, I began feeling better. The nausea has disappeared. The heartburn is much less strong. I’m used to the changes, I’m used to the gas. The absence of hell has become heaven.

The major turning point, though, was feeling the baby move. Well, kick to be more exact. Last Tuesday I ate some cereal, propped myself up on the couch and began typing away on my computer. As if to say, “Get the hell off of me,” the kid thumped me nice and hard 3 times. As if a superball was bouncing about inside me. It was the coolest thing I’d ever felt.

I’ve felt it maybe 3-4 times since then and it only gets more and more amazing. Everything about this pregnancy is getting better. I’m beginning to understand the whole pregnancy glow thing, finally, and (I cant believe I’m saying this but…) I’m actually almost sad that it’s already half over. Yeah, I’m nuts.