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The Final Countdown

One week to go, y’all. Which is good, because my ability to perambulate is decreasing by the hour. Think of a lame penguin crossed with an ungainly whale/african elephant mix and you’ll get some idea. I caught sight of a reflection of myself walking from my doctor’s appointment this morning and just about died of laughter. Things that would make this last week a lot more bearable:

1. A Lark.
2. A catheter/pee bag combo. SO SICK OF PEEING.
3. Some kind of weightless sleeping system. A flotation tank, maybe? One of those really expensive Tempur-pedic beds?
4. An elevator, or alternatively a one-story home.
5. Some kind of evolutionary development that eliminates all acid from my stomach. Temporarily.
6. A personal assistant/court jester/masseur/housekeeper combo to cater to my every need.

So, you know. Those should all be manageable, right? Someone get on that.

Shake it

Mr. Squab’s mom was in town briefly this week, and the Hatchling always likes to provide guests with the latest in toddler entertainment. Here’s a little sample of the show she put on. Yeah, the lighting is crappy, but you CANNOT DENY THE MOVES.

Dancing Ellie, February 2009 from Elise Robinson on Vimeo.

Well, this just makes me feel like an underachiever

RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil (AP) — Catriona Matthew, the 39-year-old Scot five months pregnant with her second child, won the inaugural HSBC LPGA Brazil Cup by five shots over Kristy McPherson of the United States on Sunday.

[…]

“When you play well you don’t feel tired,” Matthew said. “Maybe tomorrow I will feel it a bit.”

Lessee, at five months I was … oh, yes, I was considering it an achievement to get dressed before noon. Or to wake up without ralphing in the bathroom sink. I think that might make me the Sarah Palin to Ms. Matthew’s Barack Obama.

(via Shakesville)

This week’s pregnancy lesson

If you’re in the third trimester and vaguely resemble a beached whale in profile, it is perhaps not the wisest move to lie down on your back so you can zip up your recently washed jeans. This is true because:

a) What the fuck are you still trying to wear jeans for? You’re in the THIRD TRIMESTER. You should be wearing something stretchy that closely resembles pajamas at all times.

b) Even if you do manage to get the zipper up with this technique, you will then remain stranded on your bed, much like a tortoise on its back, flailing around from side to side in an effort to regain uprightness, for approximately five minutes. Your toddler will think this is funny. (“What doing, Mama? I try? You help-a me?”) You, however, will not.

Thus endeth the pregnancy lesson for the week.

Whew.

Sorry for the light posting lately. I’ve been cowering at home, positive that my ultrasound today would show a permanently deformed or even non-existent fetus. But all is well. There’s a real live shrimp in there, with a tail and little arm and leg buds and a yolk sac that looks like a thought bubble over its enormous (proportionally) head. No molar pregnancy. No twins (THANK YOU, JESUS). Anxiety is momentarily abated. Also, I got a prescription for anti-nausea medication, and lovely friend L. sent me a super-duper fancy wrist accupressure band (seriously – who has nicer friends than that?), so I’m officially declaring war on the sick feeling.

In other news, the Hatchling counted to 17 yesterday, and has started – completely uncoached, mind you – saying “Soooooo niiiiiiiiiiice” whenever she sees her father take his shirt off.

All is well.

Welcome to my rollercoaster

I thought, when I was contemplating gestation the secomd time around, that it would be easier. You know, I’ve done it before, I have some idea of how my body responds to it, I know what to expect when I’m expecting, etc., etc. Surely, this time would be at least a LITTLE less fraught with anxiety.

Oh, what a fool I was.

Turns out, to the surprise, I’m sure, of exactly no one who knows me, that my ability to angst about something completely trumps any past experience with it. And pregnancy, which floods your brain with teh crazy ANYWAY, is, like, custom designed for me to worry about. Right now, for example, I’m convinced I’m having another molar pregnancy. (For you new readers, I had one of those before I had the Hatchling, which you can read about here.) My rationale for this belief? (Or “rationale?”) Simple, really: I had some spotting earlier this week (actually pretty normal in the 1st trimester), I’ve been INCREDIBLY nauseated (ditto), and the universe hates me (see: teh crazy). Now, because I’ve had a molar pregnancy in the past, I’m actually slated to get an ultrasound when I go in for my initial doctor’s visit on the 4th. I’ll be 7+ weeks at that point, so they can probably detect a heartbeat and they can certainly rule out a molar pregnancy. This is good, because the nausea plus the anxiety have pretty much made me a wreck this week. Just last night I had to cancel on a dinner date with some girlfriends that I was REALLY looking forward to, because I was at a point where even thinking about food made me want to hurl. Where’s the fun in that?

One thing that’s been handy is the archives of this blog. I was checking some of my earliest posts to see if I was really feeling sicker than last time, and of course I wasn’t – I’d just forgotten, in the way that you do forget things like how much pregnancy and labor SUCK ASS, because if you didn’t forget a little the human race would have died out sometime around the lifespan of Lucy. So it’s good that I catalogued it all for reference this time around; but I’m still going to be a lot happier once I can get those ultrasound results. Feh.

Ok, ok.

OK, here are the details, insofar as we even have any.

– We JUST found out. I had told Mr. Squab before I left for GA that I thought I might be pregs, but it was still a little early to take a test. Then, when I was down south, I mentioned to my stepmom that I was kind of thinking of getting a pregnancy test, and well: you just can’t SAY something like that to my stepmom if you don’t intend to follow through. So we got the test, and I took it, and it was positive, and I tried calling Mr. Squab but he wasn’t by the phone, so I took a picture of the results with my phone camera and sent it to his phone. (His initial reaction: “Oh, my GOD.”)

– I’m about 4-5 weeks along. Very early days; haven’t even had my first doctor’s appointment yet. Early enough that I’m still half-expecting to have started my period every time I go to the bathroom. (Gross, but true.) Early enough that a lot of people wouldn’t even be talking about it yet. But fuck it, I’m too tired to keep that big a secret from y’all for that long. If it doesn’t last, I’ll blog that too.

– If everything goes as planned, we’ll be welcoming baby 2.0 sometime in late March 2009.

– So far I’m just having a little nausea, but I expect that will ramp up this week to the full-blown, total food aversion I had last time, because my body is super fun like that. Expect much bitching to ensue.

– We haven’t completely settled on a pre-natal name yet, but in keeping with the grand tradition of “Hoss” (the Hatchling’s pre-natal name), we’re leaning towards “Bubba” this time around. It has that nice, slightly hick ring to it, no?