Staying hydrating in between contractions. (7 cm)
There isn’t much more room, as you can see. This photo was taken from my perspective, so you’re looking at the top of my belly.
The linea negra (a line that often appears on pregnant women, that bisects your stomach) is a good indicator of how lopsided things can get when the Soybean starts moving around.
No longer round, there are two main features to this hill: near the top, just to the left, you can see where she’s sticking out her butt. On the right, about halfway down, that little bump is her feet (or maybe knees).
I sat down to work this morning, at the swivel desk chair I have at the dining room table. After a while, I looked down at my feet, and realized they were blue.
I was confused, as we just got a new blue rug, and it could very well have been blue ink. Indeed, it was not. My feet weren’t icy cold, but they had a dark blue tinge to them. When I massaged them, they went back to pink.
Jason said he thought he recalled reading something about this, then quietly sat on the couch with his iPhone until he had some more information. (Side note: he could be playing sudoku, or checking work email, so I don’t really think about what he’s doing with his phone out. It’s a nice surprise when he’s looking up something I’ve just wondered aloud about.)
Turns out, my giant midsection weighs heavily on my pelvis and legs when I’m sitting, and restricts blood flow. Since my whole job revolves around sitting, this may present a problem.
I’m going to make myself get up and walk around more, which should help. I can also prop my feet up while I’m working.
Finally, another late-term symptom! I was starting to feel guilty for not having more uncomfortable symptoms. At this point, I’d also take heartburn and sleeplessness. I’m hoping to dodge the stretch marks, though.
Jason and I have sworn that we’re not going to be parents who end up staying home for the next five years. We’d like to start our kid on dinners out and traveling as soon as we can. Our motivation is to be able to continue to travel, but also to have a child who is comfortable in many situations. Since all of our family lives out of town, this will ensure good family contact as well.
I’m researching the author Laurie R. King for an interview I’m doing with her, and I just found this quote:
I’ve been to India twice, once as an undergraduate on a set tour, the other time for six months with my husband and daughter (when that Taj Mahal photo was taken). Perhaps the most interesting thing about the longer trip was traveling with a child. It’s a thing few people do (with reason — it’s hard work!) and as a result, the people who live there get a somewhat skewed idea of who and what Americans are. To see a Western family walking up the village street — mother, father and small blonde child — acts like an instant outstretched hand.
This may be an idea for diplomatic overtures to parts of the world with ambivalent feelings about the United States: offer free plane tickets to any family willing to take small children with them, and watch the amity grow.
Now I can add “bringing about world peace” to the list of benefits.
Yes, that’s a photo of me, on a sled, with kittens. I figured you could use it to get through your day.
It just occurred to me that there are going to be ALL of the firsts, once our daughter is born. First breath, first lazy Sunday, first mismatched outfit, the list contains everything that could ever be (except things that include being a fetus).
My question is, what song should be the first song that she ever hears? As far as capturing data for a baby book, I think this would be much more interesting than first wee, or first haircut.
Something classic, or even classical? Something kick-ass, and tounge-in-cheek?
(This picture is of me — so, an approximation of what the Soybean will look like.)
Updated to respond to comments:
I like the idea of cultural and artistic merit, and I think a whole playlist is in order (especially now that I have all these great suggestions). I’m still not sure what the first song should be, though.
When I think about songs, I can’t help but think about my own attachment to them. Even so, I wonder if Holst’s Jupiter might be an appropriate choice. Oh, or Mason Jenning’s Lemon Grove Avenue. I’d like something inherently optimistic. Andrew WK’s Party Hard is another contender.
To celebrate our last unencumbered Mother’s Day, we went to two movies.
We also had a house/babywarming party last night, with no fewer than
40 people (many of them small). I’ve never thrown a party with kids
before. Turns out, the number of party fouls* was equivalent to
parties I’ve thrown with more aldults and booze.
*"party foul" – a spill or mess made
I’ve been wearing this hoodie since December. It’s always come down over my belly, until today.
For some perspective, it’s a size large. I usually wear size small in maternity wear. I picked it up on clearance, and figured a big, cozy hoodie was worth the cheapo price.
Now it’s not doing its job! I think this has more to do with the baby’s position changing than about my size changing.
38 weeks pregnant, and checking the tire on Abby’s jogging stroller.
We (Jason and I, not Abby and I) had a midwife appointment this morning. Every week, they measure my belly (the long way, not around), and it’d been getting larger by about a centimeter a week.
This week, I’ve gone down a size. The baby has descended from her usual place above my pelvis, down into the birth canal (meaning, my hips). That’s a good sign, that she’s getting ready to come out. Also a good sign is that she’s head-down, facing sideways. That’s way better than feet first.
The midwife said “So, we’ll see you next week at your appointment … or not.” The Soybean is fully formed, and could theoretically come out at any time.
I’m kind of disappointed that no one’s started a pool. The due date is May 20. My money’s on the weekend after, since it’d be much more convenient, and that’s what babies are — convenient — right?
Not much about my body has changed in the past few weeks (of course, my belly has gotten bigger, by a centimeter or two every week, but at this point it’s the opposite of a drop in the bucket). Here’s what I’ve noticed:
*Now that the temperature is reaching summer levels, I’m noticing how warm I am. Some of this happens every year, as spring moves to summer and I have to recalculate what “comfortable” is. After walking home from Harvard Square on Sunday, though, it took me a good 45 minutes to cool down. Usually it takes me about 10.
*My feet are puffy. I’d been noticing that my socks were leaving marks on my legs (indicating that they were affecting fluid), so now that I’m barefoot most of the time, I’m seeing my ankle bones recede and my toes plump up.
That’s it. That’s my list of complaints. I’m pretty sure I’m in some sort of minor percentile of pregnant women who are still sleeping well, without heartburn, baby feet kicking into ribs, surprise peeing, etc.
Maybe I should do this professionally?