Previous month:
April 2011
Next month:
June 2011

The third trimester of this pregnancy has not been a particularly easy one, and up until...oh, the last 36 hours or so I was perfectly content to chalk most of the unpleasantness up to stress. Everything DID start going downhill right around the time my dad died, what with the false labor and mysterious aches and pains and the throwing up and the weight loss and then a delightful little interlude of "pre-bedrest" and "pre-pneumonia" and "pre-let's-not-panic-here-but-seriously-you-need-to-stop-getting-sick-and-put-some-weight-on." Then, over the weekend, my hands and feet started itching. And suddenly -- well, "suddenly" after HOURS of unrelenting itching and twitching and scratching and an entire bottle of moisturizer and -- a lot of things started to make sense. Stress? Yeah, sure, some of it. But also, gallbladder. I don't know how long things haven't been quite right in that department. I managed to develop a bunch of the other symptoms of... Read more →


I would like to officially and formally take issue with my own damn post title here -- technically, according to the LMP math, today should be my due date. Early ultrasounds bumped me back a week, only for the later scans to once again suggest that I was actually farther along than we thought and jibed with the May 30th hypothesis. But we officially stuck with the original U/S dating and a June 4th due date and I didn't really care all that much at the time but for the record I SUDDENLY CARE AN AWFUL LOT ALL OF A SUDDEN. (I do not care, however, about making sure I've remembered to put on a bra before taking photos of myself anymore.) (Or about looking anything other than really bizarrely kind of mean.) Anyway, it's a holiday and I'm not going to waste any of y'all's time with stories from... Read more →


Seriously, baby. THERE IS NOTHING MORE I CAN DO FOR YOU. There's a freaking custom-made butterfly mobile here, for crying out loud. And wall decals. That I will apply more of, so help me God, out of sheer boredom. Your call. And if you think perfectly-color-and-damask-pattern-coordinated hoot owl toys just HAPPEN, well, they don't. This is nesting OCD driven to the breaking point, baby. That's you, through the ages. We're very excited at the prospect of adding some less-blobby-looking portraits to the gallery. I have every kind of cloth diaper and cloth diaper accessory imaginable . And about four dozen swaddling blankets for you to poop on and/or reject outright. Slings? Wraps? Pouches? Mei teis? Ergo and Ergo accessories? YOU KNOW IT, HIPPIE. *BITES KNUCKLES* So you can see, Fetus I Have Nicknamed IKEA, Even Though The Only Things In Your Room That Came From IKEA Are Some Storage Baskets,... Read more →


NBY

NO BABY YET. For the record, I promise -- pinkie swearsie promise -- that updating my blog or Twitstream or whatever will indeed be among the very first things I'll do, should anything interesting happen re: my womb. In the meantime, you can safely assume that radio silence just means I am sleeping. Or, in the case of the last 24 hours, that I was alternating between sleeping and running around like a crazy person trying to take care of things related to my two pesky existing children. Oh, and puking. Because why not? It's the third fucking trimester, let's get all NOSTALGIC for the first 12 weeks for no particular reason. Yesterday was absolutely ACTION PACKED, I tell you. First up: an OB appointment, just to determine how incredibly NOT in labor I currently am, or will be in the foreseeable future. Thanks, cervix, you lazy good-for-nothing piece of...... Read more →


I climbed into bed late last night. My nerves were on edge, my brain refused to stop inventorying and obsessing over the pre-baby to-do list, all the things that I MUST do, SHOULD do, WOULD LIKE to do, and was that a contraction or is the baby just stretching and jamming limbs into tender organs? I put my hands on my belly and tried to will the sensation to memory, because this is it. The last time. The last few days. Oh, but I'm so tired and sore and done. And yet not ready. Not enough time. One week to go. Short and endless and terrible. Eight weeks since he died. Like it was yesterday and forever ago, and also terrible. "He just wanted to hold that baby!" my mom wailed, out of the blue, the last time we talked. She's still prone to bursting into tears at random moments... Read more →


THINGS I DID THIS WEEKEND: 1) Got a pedicure, had total Blush-and-Bashful moment when the bright, funky royal blue color I chose in honor of Baby Boy Number Three dried way too dark and now looks all black and goth-y. I don't really pull off "goth-y" too well, even when I'm NOT wearing giant maternity caftans with extraneous underboob ties and ribbons. Then again, I seriously just tried to describe blue toenail polish as "funky." I AM HOPELESS. 2) Saw Bridesmaids, had moment of brilliant inspiration during a scene that (SPOILER) featured someone vomiting on someone else's head that, wow, this would be the BEST TIMING EVER for my water to break all over the place. In fact, the crowd would probably have thought it was an interactive part of the show and given me a standing ovation. 3) Went to IKEA in search of a medicine cabinet and a... Read more →


(SPOILER ALERT: No baby yet.) You know, I've been making fun of my husband a lot around here. And honestly, he probably only deserves...eh, let's say about a third of it. (THE SWING. THE SWINNNNNNGGGGGG.) The rest is a combination of good-natured ribbing and the natural reaction to seeing your partner up and relatively spry and able to function like a normal human being while you loll around on the couch, grunting like a beached whale, wishing you had the ability to whip other people into a nesting-like frenzy using only the power of your MIND, like, seriously? Would it kill you to install the car seat already? I know you SAY it can wait until the baby is born and you'll do it on the way to pick us up at the hospital but I WOULD FEEL BETTER IF I COULD SEE IT DONE AHEAD OF TIME SO THAT... Read more →


There is no baby yet. Self-portrait as Walking Fetus Jail, From Which There Is No Escape, Also No Real Flattering Angle, My LANDS. PS. No, Jason still hasn't looked in the attic for the missing swing part. PPS. But he did make me a batch of fudge brownies (from scratch!) and let me eat pretty much all of them. PPPS. Then he encouraged me to take a nice long bubble bath and even lit some candles. PPPPS. Then he was all, "Sex can totally start labor, riiiiiight?" PPPPPS. No. PPPPPPS. OBVIOUSLY. Read more →


Obligatory: No baby yet. I am not in labor NOR I am in anything even approaching what could be considered a good mood. I slept like crap last night because I'm just so all-around lumpy and uncomfortable AND THEN I had a dream that I was trapped on an MTV spinoff/prequel show called Jersey Shore Babies and was responsible for changing an infant Snooki's diaper AND THEN I woke up with a terrible headache -- like a why is there not someone I can hold personally accountable for this amount of pain and thus murder with my bony bare hands style headache. Then I ate some toast and got heartburn from the toast and promptly threw up all the toast and what the HELL, man. IT WAS ONLY SOME TOAST. So...probably good (for Jason's sake? as the accountable party in this instance?) that this morning's routine OB appointment revealed absolutely... Read more →


Swing Low Sweet Crazy Person

AMY: Thanks for getting the baby swing down from the attic... JASON: No problem. AMY: *under breath* ...three freaking months after I originally asked you to but whatever. JASON: What? AMY: Nothing! AMY: *busies herself with refastening freshly-washed cover to baby swing* AMY: *tries to attach swing seat to swing frame, makes horrible discovery* AMY: THE SWING IS MISSING A PART! JASON: What? AMY: MISSING! A PART! THIS WON'T ATTACH! THE LITTLE THINGS THAT GO ON THE OTHER THING AND KIND OF...POP? OUT? THOSE THINGS! OR WAS IT A SCREW? EITHER WAY! THERE IS SOME ESSENTIAL MISSING THING! JASON: *looks* Yeah, you're right. I'll look up in the attic again, I guess. AMY: Okay. AMY: *waits* AMY: ... AMY: *waits more* JASON: What? AMY: OH MY FUCKING GOD. (PS. NO BABY YET.) (PPS. OR WORKING SWING.) Read more →