Tag Archives: second trimester

The Final Countdown: T minus 2 days

1. The headcold rages unabated. In retrospect, purchasing stock in Kleenex about three months ago would have been a good move.

2. To be honest, if anyone said the phrase “the power of positive thinking” to me right now I would probably kick them in the nards, but there *are* some things making me happy right now, namely:
a) my new spring purse, courtesy Questionable. (The one on the left.) It is so springy and stripy. It defies the weather.
b) It’s supposed to be almost SIXTY degrees on Monday! Sure, I’ll be drugged up and in the hospital the whole day, but still!
c) Tonight, the Hatchling, after commanding her father to sit next to her on the sofa, sidled up to him, batted her eyelashes and said “Hey, baby.”

3. I think I might be having the occasional contraction, mostly in the evenings the last three days. I say “I think” because I don’t actually know what normal contractions or Braxton Hicks feel like. When the Hatchling was born, I had nothing in the way of contractions until I was induced, and lemme tell ya, Pitocin-contractions are undeniable. You KNOW you are having one of those. And then you KNOW you are getting an epidural. But this – it just feels kind of like a tightening, sometimes verging on crampy, not lasting or regular, just sort of unsettling and a pain in the ass. Or thereabouts. Thoughts from readers who’ve done this the natural way before? I go in for a regular monitoring appointment tomorrow so I’m sure they’ll pick up on it if anything is going on.

Checklist

  • Inability to find a comfortable position in which to sleep/sit/eat/exist? Check.
  • General grumpiness? Check.
  • Constant fatigue, due to item 1 and contributing to item 2? Check.
  • Lower back and round ligament pain? Check.
  • Irritating emotional instability? Check.
  • Possibly irrational levels of anger at Mr. Squab’s place of employment for its no-leave-nohow-for-nobody policy? Check. Maybe. Except for the irrational part, because WTF?
  • Ever-lingering nausea? Check.
  • Ravenous hunger combined with total apathy towards any actual food? Check.
  • Increasing inability to engage in complex thought because this baby is SUCKING MY BRAIN CELLS? Double Checkity Check-Check.

I tell you what, if I read one more time about the damn second trimester “glow” or “energy surge” I am going to stage a public conniption fit.

Two Things

1. If this baby doesn’t stop stomping on my bladder and/or cervix on a regular basis we are going to have WORDS.

2. How is it possible that I have a gajillion cookbooks and yet none of them has a recipe for red velvet cake? Even the southern ones? Thank Maude for the internets.

Items of Note

1. I have officially entered the waddling and stretchy-clothes-only stage of pregnancy. That’s about two months earlier than last time, for those of you keeping track.

2. Nine disturbingly misogynistic old print ads – can I just say: Whoa. The first one, in particular, I don’t even UNDERSTAND.

3. It’s official – atheist countries are nicer than we are.

4. WANT. (via Scott.)

A matched set

We got our big ultrasound today, the one where they measure all the baby parts and check the heart and weight and fluids and tell you what flavor fetus you have in there, if you want to know.

Which we did.

So they told us.

OK, OK … it’s a girl! She was squirming around so much in there I was afraid they wouldn’t be able to see the requisite parts, but they checked and double checked and triple checked, and sure enough: female parts. Mr. Squab will officially have a harem come March. She has all her parts, and we got the results of my quad screen (one of the tests for chromosomal abnormalities) and they were “just great” according to the perinatologist – she said my results were better than a 25-year-old’s, which just proves that I’m really, really immature young at heart. The kid weighs about 12 oz., which is right on track for this stage of pregnancy, and relieves my fears that my recent belly popping was an indicator of diabetes-related hugeness. It’s not; it’s just a second pregnancy. So all is well, at least on the inside of my uterus. Which is a good thing, because if this baby is going to put me through this level of discomfort, the least she can do is be healthy.

tap-tap-tap … Is this thing on?

Wait … I have a BLOG? Holy crap, why didn’t anyone tell me?!?!

OK, I know it’s been about forever since I last posted. I can always tell that it’s been too long when I start getting concerned emails from friends and family with carefully worded greetings along the lines of “oh, hi, hope everything is ok! Sure do miss those blog posts! I’m sure you’re just really busy!” but where the subtext is clearly “JESUS CHRIST, ARE YOU ALIVE? POST SOMETHING, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

So, you know. Message received. And sorry to be the cause for concern. Why have I not been posting, you ask? Lord, I don’t know. Part of it is that I’m busy. I can’t really post when the Hatchling is up, because if she sees the laptop open she either requests, repeatedly, to watch “bee-yos” (videos) or wants to “push button” which results in very distracted, if not illegible, blog posts. When she naps, I nap, so no posting then. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights I’m either teaching or at meetings or rehearsals, so that’s out. Which basically leaves weekends, Monday nights and Friday nights as possible blogging time, and lately I haven’t had the gumption those times to do much more than catch up on TV or read novels. Which brings me to the other reason for the lack of posts: no gumption. I’m not depressed, exactly. I *am* motherloving tired All. The. Time. And … have I mentioned how I don’t enjoy the pregnancy thing so much? Yah. I really, really, really, really-to-the-nth-power do not fucking enjoy being pregnant. Love the result, hate the process. I just feel shitty all the time, and I’m having a hard time keeping my blood sugars where they should be, and I’m already sick of restricting my diet to diabetes-approved items and I’m already HUGE and I cannot find a comfortable position to sleep in so I don’t get much sleep and I still have like five months to go and it’s just going to get worse. And what’s even worse than the physical discomforts – which are legion – is the guilt for not being able to pull my weight around the house. Seriously, I think I’ve cooked a meal, like, once in the past two weeks. Mr. Squab does ALL the laundry. I almost never have the energy (or, increasingly, the coordination) to pick up after the Hatchling, so Mr. Squab typically comes home from a day’s work to a dirty kitchen, a hyper toddler, a living room that looks like it’s been hit by a smallish tornado, and a wife who’s cranky he couldn’t get home earlier and feels like she needs a break. God, it’s demoralizing. And the sense of guilt makes me even crankier, so I don’t always even say thank you or otherwise show some semblance of gratitude. Not because I’m not thankful, but because acknowledging the huge imbalance is so painful. Which … is just really not a nice way to behave. Mr. Squab never complains about it (though he did say the other day that it’s a good thing I’m cute when I’m pregnant because otherwise he’d never make it), and my friends all keep reminding me that, hello, it’s not like I’m not doing anything – I’m growing a freaking human inside me! – and I know this is true. And, like my sister says, it’s not as if this is our whole marriage; this is just a brief moment on the long timeline of our relationship, and there will no doubt come a day when I will have the opportunity to repay the kindness. It’s just hard to feel that way when you’re in the middle of it, you know?

So anyway, blah, blah, blah, whine whine whine. This is the kind of stuff on my mind lately, and it’s just so BORING to be so pissy all the time. And if even *I* find it boring, I don’t feel like I should inflict it on my lovely blog readers. Who am I to waste your valuable blog reading time? However, I will try not to take unintentional week-long hiatuses (hiati? hiatae?) anymore. After all, not everything here in squab-land is dismal. The Hatchling is being an extremely awesome little trouper about having only a partially-functional mama, and is keeping us entertained with her various weird pronouncements and activities. (We have decided that 2 1/2 is the age of weird; I’ll have to post more specifics later this week.) I have an amazing set of friends who help keep me afloat, doing everything from giving me huge bags of hand-me-down clothes for the ever-embiggening Hatchling to offering me housekeeping and massage (!!!) services when I’m feeling particularly beleaguered. And this week – on Thursday – we’re going to find out what flavor of baby we’re having, which will be exciting. Plus it looks like Obama’s going to win (knock wood, cross fingers, throw salt over shoulder, etc.), so that’s, you know, good. And stuff.

Anyway, that’s my update. And how are all of YOU doing?

Wheeeee!

Well, I SPECTACULARLY failed my gestational diabetes test this morning. How spectacularly, you ask? Well, let me put it this way: there are normally two tests for GD. You take the first, shorter one, and if you fail that then you have to take the longer, four hour one so they can really make sure. But me? I did so amazingly poorly on the first test that they aren’t even making me TAKE the second one. The lab tech was all, yeah, we’re just going call this one now and start treating you because this is ridiculous. Yo: when the LAB TECH thinks it’s ridiculous, that is some serious shit. You gotta give me credit. I do things with panache.

On the upside, Mr. Squab and the Hatchling have developed a new game, where she stands there and Mr. Squab gives her rotating commands of either “kick,” “jump,” “punch,” or “spin.” It’s like Toddler Bop-it, and it is truly hilarious to watch.