Saturday, May 30, 2009

Happy Due Date, Bjorn!! Ummm. . . are you ready yet??

In case you're wondering. . . there is no baby yet.

Well, there IS a baby, but it's still in my belly. With no apparent thoughts on coming out anytime soon. Who knows? Maybe he/she will surprise us today and happen in a few hours. Anything's possible with babies, right?!

But, for now, no baby.

By the way: I'm still thinking Bjorn's a girl. Guess we have a little longer to find out for sure, tho.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Single mommies, put a ring on it!

I have finally taken my wedding rings off.

No, DTB and I have not gotten into a fight or anything more drastic than that.

It has just now come to the point where my fingers (and my ankles, my toes, my legs, and - I swear - my neck!) have started to swell. So I had to slip those rings right off my fingers before it began to turn blue from loss of blood.

Actually, they didn't quite slip off. It was more of a third grade field day tug-of-war with my ring, complete with butter, soap and lots of hopping around on one foot as I yelled choice words at my swollen finger.

And just last week I was telling a friend that I was surprised my rings still fit. Guess I spoke too soon.

But I can't stand to not wear my wedding rings. I thought that without them I would feel like an unwed teenage mother, but I don't. In fact, I don't even know that DTB has noticed that I haven't worn rings on my hands in three days. In this age of soap operas, celebrity teen pregnancies and single mommyhood, no one really cares about one more person without a wedding ring.

Still, I feel the need to wear my rings somehow. They are, after all, the beginning of everything - the day I put both of them on is the day that DTB and I really began our life. So, because I never had a high school boyfriend give me his ring, and I'm somewhat old-fashioned and really wanted to have that experience, I am reliving teenage fantasies. My rings are on a simple gold chain I wear around my neck. Always. And they will stay there until I can slip them back on my fat, swollen fingers.

As I said earlier, my fingers aren't the only swollen bits. I know what it's like to have cankles now. It's not pretty. DTB was going to buy me shoes the other day 1)because I need some new ones and 2) because he feels bad that I am heavy and tired and he knows that shoes are the ways to this Preggo's heart. But none of the higher shoes fit around these ankles. My shoe size has gone up 1/2 a size (which I hope is just due to swelling, because although I would like to binge on a shoe spree, I have spent years and hundreds of dollars building up my current shoe wardrobe) and even the flip flops I live in don't fit properly. My toes are too big to fit through the flip flop laces. They no longer slip through the fabric, they bulge through. Muffin top for flip-flops.

So what do I do to combat this problem? I know drinking water helps (oddly enough!), so I have been drinking lots of water. And the last two nights, DTB and I have taken advantage of kidless dining and headed out for happy hour. Once to Pei Wei for their spicy tofu and veggies and the next night for a relaxing dinner of sushi and miso. Both layered with salt, which we all know works great for swelling.

Oh well, it was good food. And who knows when we'll have a date night alone again? I'm taking advantage of dinners out as long as I can!

Spy Games

For some reason, DTB and I have chosen some 'code words' to use in case I go into labor while he's at work. Why we have code words, I have no idea. I'm sitting in the privacy of my own home, with no around but me and The Dog, and we think I need a code word on the phone.

Is this to protect against the CIA or FBI or rival Preggo's who are tapping our phones?

Nah. I think it's just to make it more fun than it already is!

We keep forgetting the code words, though. I think it started out as popsicle, but today it's 'pumpernickel'.

Don't ask me why!

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Abs of Steel

I've always wanted Abs of Steel - the kind that you can 'bounce a quarter off'. And I've tried everything to get them; well, everything short of cutting out sodas, sugar and carbs. I want great abs, but not at the sake of my sweet tooth! Most memorably, I tried the Britney Spears workout. I read somewhere that she does 500 crunches a day, so I decided that if she could do it, so could I! That lasted about three days.

So who would have thought that I would finally get Abs of Steel while I was pregnant?

That's right. Hard as a rock. Literally, you can bounce a quarter off my belly.

Ok, so technically it's not my abs, because if you know anything about anatomy, you know that I don't really have abs right now. Well, I have them, but they are stretched to the sides of my belly and aren't really functioning as ab muscles normally do. Which is fine because I can't bend at the waist anyways, so I don't actually need ab muscles right now.

But as for this place on my belly where my abs used to be - hard as a rock. If it wasn't for the big watermelon growth I have popping out in front, you would think that I had the strongest abs. Because if you poke my belly, it won't cave in like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I can't roll over and have my belly give even a little. Nope. Jillian Michaels has nothing on me!

Has anyone seen my feet??

**BTW - counting today: 4 days til D-Day!**

Sunday, May 24, 2009

The Waiting Game

Unlike most Preggo's, I'm not in any rush to bring Bjorn into the real world. Yes, I am desperate to find out if Bjorn is going to play football or softball (i.e. a boy or a girl), I would really like to be able to sleep on my back and my stomach again, and a beer sounds really really great, but I know that although pregnancy makes me tired and heavy, it's alot easier to take care of Bjorn in than out. So I'm willing to wait this out as long as it takes.

But, like everything else that happens with pregnancy, this is not up to me. This is Bjorn's show and he's not debuting until the perfect moment. What a ham!!

While I'm waiting, tho, I can't help but think of all the places I could be when Bjorn decides it is finally D-Day. I know that every Preggo's water breaks differently, but I imagine mine happening as a tidal wave of water. A real gusher. And when the Big Splash occurs, there are many places I don't want to be.

Church. For me, this is the biggie. I can't imagine being in church; everything quiet, serene and peaceful and then - GUSH!! KER-SPLASH! Right in the middle of a soothing prayer, too, I'm sure. Then, having to walk away, a watery stain slowly spreading across my pants, only stopping to whisper urgently to an usher "Clean-up on Pew 20" and then getting the heck out of there. Does Preggo water stain? Would I permanently mar the pew of my church?!? Yuck.

Dressing Room. Not that I'm spending a whole lot of time trying to get my 44+ inch waist into any clothes right now, but occasionally I find the need to try on pants. Big, comfy pajama pants. It's one of those weird Preggo things that I do; although I know I will only be pregnant for another week or so, and I know that I can't fit into anything that I will actually want to wear in another few weeks, I still am a dedicated shopper who yearns to buy something - anything. It's a retail sickness. But as I slip on those big ol' sweatpants in the Target dressing room, the voice in my head starts to wonder "If my water breaks right now, will I have to buy these?" Or will I just quietly slip out of the store, trying not to draw any further attention to myself? I wouldn't want to be the store associate that found those pants left on the dressing room floor!

My new couch. When DTB and I found out we were pregnant, we decided that now was finally the time to get rid of the old college couch that I loved and he hated (shouldn't it be the other way around??) and buy ourselves some nice big kid furniture. So we bought these beautiful, comfy couches that I am positive Bjorn will love peeing, pooping and puking all over. I sure am glad we spent money on good couches and didn't ruin the old one instead! Getting back to the subject, tho. . . . . as much as I know that these couches will soon be a mecca for vomit and drool stains (not to mention crayons and finger paint when Bjorn is older), I don't want the first stain to be from my gusher. I'll let Bjorn break the couches in when he gets here, but for now, I would rather keep them in the gorgeous condition they are in now. Which means no water marks.

This morning when I woke up, all I could think of were the millions of places I didn't want to be when (if) my water breaks. Where would a good place be? I don't know. Bed? It's easy to change the sheets. Outdoors? Not a big cleanup there. Movie theater? It's dark enough that no one would notice!

Friday, May 22, 2009


Week: 39. . . 8 days to go.

Belly Circumference: 44 3/4

Weight: 176. Only one pound to go until I go from the "middleweight" category into light "heavyweight". We'll see if I can pull it off.

Shop 'til you Drop

DTB and I used to have names for those front-row parking spots that never seem to open up. Rock star parking. Porn star parking. And the few times that we would get these spots, we would get so excited – high-fiving like we were ten years old.

Now, I just call myself lucky if I get within a mile of the entrance.

Expectant mother parking is my new favorite thing. It should be at every store, in every city. Do they not realize how hard it is to walk across a parking lot? By the time I get to the store, I feel like I have walked a battlefield, and I barely have enough energy to walk through the store. Think of all the missing spending the store is giving up by not having Baby-on-Board parking. I would spend much more if I wasn't so exhausted by the time I actually got to the store. I don’t think they can afford that in this economy.

Call your Governor. Write your Senator. Send the President a text. Do what you have to do, just get me more Expectant Mother Parking. Hey - they're bailing out the mortgage and credit card industry, right?! So help me out a little, too!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

I didn't get the memo. . . . .

I'm guessing that most Preggo's don't leave their house a week before they're due.

At least, that's what I think considering the stares and questions from today.

Am I the only Preggo who can't stand to be couped up at home all day? Isn't there plenty of time for that after I have Bjorn and he/she's so sick/tired/poopy that we can't leave the house?

My due date is 8 days from today, so pretty much anything can happen at any time. I'm trying to be ready for it by having the house clean, the grocery shopping done and all errands finished.

First on the agenda today? A nice, soothing, wonderful pedicure. The rest of me may be going downhill (literally!!), but not the toes. The toes can always be beautiful, soft and have a swirly flower design - complete with "gemstone" and all. Besides, it's the only part of me I'm actually going to see during labor, so everyone else can see my sweaty, laboring face, but I'm gonna look at my pretty, pink-topped toes.

But when asked - twice! - when I was due, I could tell by the looks on their faces that something was wrong.

Maybe it was the frantic way their eyes danced across the room. Maybe it was the flustered "One week? One. . . .week?! You're due in. . . . (gulp). . .one week?!" as they wore down my calluses. Maybe it was their thoughts - so clear I could practically hear them - as they ran down the list of 1) who to call should I go into labor 2)who was the most senior person they could pawn me off to and 3) how they could get me out of there as fast as possible before something happened.

Look, nothing is going to happen instantaneously. I heard through the grapevine that it can take a while. Like more than 24 hours a while. So, I think if something happened while I was in the pedicure chair, I would still have time to get the toes topped off and tip them. (Although they might want to change the chair cushion after that. . . . . )

Then three more stores (all returns - I have classic buyer's remorse), the library (I don't want late fees just because I'm in labor in a hospital) and the grocery store. All at which the stares were rampant and the "Excuse me, ma'ams" as people brushed by were apologetic and fearful.

In their eyes, too, was the alarmed awareness that at any moment I might grab their arm in a gut-wrenching grip and collapse to the floor in a puddle of amniotic fluid.

No such luck for me. Just think what a great story that would make!?!

** On a side note: In my hospital birthing class, the instructor told us that as we got closer to our due dates and went grocery shopping, always always always put a glass jar of pickles in the cart first thing. That way, if your water was to break during the shopping trip, you could just drop the pickle jar, tell a manager that all the fluid on the ground is pickle juice ("Clean-up on Aisle 4") and high-tail it out of there with no one the wiser. I laughed about that as I entered the grocery store today, and then realized that a jar of pickles sounded good. I blame my birthing class instructor for that $3.99 impulse buy.**

Turns out that most Preggo's really don't leave the house much when they are this close to having a baby. Guess I didn't get that memo.

My friend's mom, after taking a look at my 37 week pictures, exclaimed "How is she even walking? Preggo's huge!" (Granted, I am only 5 foot 1, so a big ol' baby looks bigger on me.)

The GMTB (Grandmom-to-Be), after telling her that I was going grocery shopping today, questioned "You're doing what?!"

On the phone last night, a friend said "You're where? In a store and on the phone? But you're not breathing hard or anything!"

No one told me I was supposed to stop going anywhere this week. And, yes, DTB would have been more than happy to run my errands and do the grocery shopping so I didn't have to. But I didn't think I needed him to. And I still don't. I may have moved a little slower and taken a little more time, but I got everything done and we (Bjorn and I) are both home happy and healthy. Of course, I can only assume Bjorn is happy with all the kicking and twisting she/he's doing. . . .

Monday, May 18, 2009

Messy Eaters Anonymous

Nearly all of my maternity shirts are stained. Little driplets of ketchup, mayonnaise, milk and other foods cover the front of all of them.

And I don't even have a little baby to blame these stains on yet.

There is a reason for this. I'm not just a messy eater (although I kind of am). It's just that, because of this huge basketball I have stuck to the front of me, I can't scoot close to the table. And when I place a napkin on my lap, my belly completely covers the napkin. (To which I just now thought 'Why don't I just place a napkin on my belly instead?' Yes, it has taken me that long to come to that solution!) My chair is about a foot and a half further from the table than it usually is, and I can't lean to catch food over my plate. Once again, the basketball prevents any kind of forward lean.

Thus the food stains on every shirt. You may think I'm just messy, but try eating a big ol' gloppy hamburger and fixin's without dropping even a little bit of ketchup or tomato. If it's a good burger, it's impossible. Mine just drop over the body instead of over the plate.

Other things that you don't think about but are hard to do when ready to pop?

- Carrying laundry. Yes, it sounds so simple. But just think about how you carry a laundry basket - right in front of you, tucked against your belly with your arms on either side. With an extra foot and a half sticking out in front of me, I can't get the basket positioned so that my short arms can actually hold the basket. Instead I just scoot it around on the floor with my feet. We have wood floors -it works.

- Washing your face. Once again, it's the lean factor that does you in. Without being able to bend over, it is almost impossible to adequately wash your face without turning your bathroom into Splash Mountain. Instead of me going to the water like is normal, I have to bring the water up to me. I now keep three towels handy in the bathroom: one for DTB, one for me and one to wipe up all the water I spill on the floor, the counter, the wall, the mirror. . . .

Friday, May 15, 2009

The Big Kerplunk

Near the end of a pregnancy, a Preggo can apparently feel as the baby moves deeper into the pelvis - a process called "lightening" or that the baby has "dropped".

Or as DTB calls it - "The Big Kerplunk".

We learned about this in birthing class (hence DTB knowing about it) and figured we would definitely be able to tell when it happened. Some signs of lightening are being able to breathe easier (because the baby is no longer jutting knees into your lungs, but has moved down into your bladder instead), more feeling deeper in the pelvis and the need to go to the bathroom more.

You mean more than every half an hour? Hmmm. . .

For the last couple of weeks, DTB has come home from work and asked 'Did you feel a Kerplunk today?' And everyday I so very patiently explain to him that I did not drop our baby today. Whether he dropped on his own - well, that was another story.

I can't pinpoint a day I felt any different, but all of a sudden in the last couple of days I have noticed movement changes in my belly. I used to feel most of the karate chops right around my belly button. Now all the head butts and uppercuts are much lower - about five inches below my belly button and directed right at my bladder. According to Doc, not all these kicks and twirls are Bjorn's movements, though. Sometimes what feels like a movement way down in the abdomen is actually a contraction - not the the of contraction we've all heard about, but a contraction nonetheless. And it can be hard trying to distinguish between a contraction and a kick-flip.

I can breathe easier, but it suddenly became really hard to sleep. Maybe that's a side effect of Bjorn being so far down? It's no longer like cuddling a pillow to your belly - now it's like cuddling a hard pillow to your waist. Not nearly as comfortable. And the need to go to the bathroom all the time? Well, that's been around for the last month, so there's nothing new there.

But maybe I have dropped. Maybe I've lightened. Maybe the Big Kerplunk happened and I wasn't paying attention.

So now DTB has moved onto the next phase that may happen before we go into labor. . . . . . 'Did you feel a Splash?'

Thursday, May 14, 2009

It's getting hot in here. . . ..

As an expecting parent, I am not scared (although I probably should be) of late-night feedings, exploding diapers or running on little-to-no sleep. There is only one thing that 100% completely and totally terrifies me.

I live in one of the hottest places in America. The driest, hottest desert outside of Death Valley. In fact, my town really is its own little (well, big, actually considering that Phoenix is in the top 10 largest cities) Death Valley. Over the past two weeks, while the rest of the country is easing into summer with some above-70's temps, we have reached near-record temps daily above the 100+ mark. 103 expected for today, and climbing throughout the weekend.

So what makes me so terrified? A sunglasses tan?!

Nope. This one's serious.

I am terrified that I will be one of those one-in-a-million that will leave their baby in the car.

Knowing that the temps are so high, even just a few minutes can be deadly. And I am completely frightened of doing just that: of being on the phone, in a daydream or with arms full of groceries, and Bjorn - being the good kiddo I know he/she will be- will have fallen asleep and won't make a sound as I get out of the car.

And, as previous posts have proven, I am kind of a dreamer/scatter-brain. Recently I stopped parking my car in our garage because one time I forgot to open the garage door before I backed out. I just wasn't used to being in the garage, so I didn't think about it before I backed right into it! And it's not just Preggo brain - how many times have I locked my keys in my car? Too many!

This isn't unjustified thinking, either. Every year we hear news stories that cover this same topic and we think 'That couldn't happen to me' and 'I would never forget my child in a car' but I have known people who have done it. It was just for a few minutes, the weather was cooler and the kid was fast asleep and perfectly fine, but it still happened. I don't want to be a news story.

A few days ago, DTB installed the car seat in our car. D-Day could happen at any time, really, so we are trying to be prepared sooner rather than later. I'm very grateful that he is on top of things. (Anyone see Marley & Me? I didn't want it to be like that with the car seat!) But having the car seat installed right behind me is really what made me think of this situation.

Yes, I'm huge and can barely slide out from under the steering wheel. Yes, I still waddle, I still have to go to the bathroom every thirty minutes and yes, my maternity pants are rolling down at the same time the shirts are rolling up. I'm obviously still very much pregnant. But every time I stopped at a store, I could see the car seat in the rear view mirror. I could feel it beside me in the middle as I pushed myself out of the car. For just a moment, I would think 'Did I already have this baby and I just don't remember?' to which I would then turn and feel around in the car seat to make sure no baby was in there.

There never was a baby in the car seat (surprised?), but I can only hope that I do this same thing every time I drive somewhere for the next ten years. I hope that I take the time to look around me, get awareness of the situation and gather my thoughts before rushing on to the next errand/chore/softball game.

For now, though, DTB - without me asking, hinting or doing anything bit telling him my fears - has taken the car seat out of the car. The car seat base is still there, though, properly and safely installed.

Which leaves me wondering sometimes as I heave my bulky, pregnant self into the car 'Did I leave Bjorn in the shopping cart?'

Monday, May 11, 2009

By popular demand. . . .

As requested - my 42 inch waist pictures. Otherwise known as: Just over 37 weeks!

Was blind, but now I can see

No one told me.

Not the Preggo magazines I occasionally flip through. Not the Mommy Blogs I have laughed with and learned from. And not the unsolicited advice that family and friends can't help but give. No one.

No one told me that your vision can change during pregnancy.

No one told me that sometimes, when you have really bad vision like I do, your vision can get better (yeah!), but refrain from going to see an optometrist because it can go back to your original vision after you have the baby.

Oh yeah. . . . even the optometrist himself didn't tell me. At least, he didn't tell me until we were halfway through the exam and casually mentioned it as he was making me read numbers off the wall. And he knew I was pregnant. At this point, it is very hard not to tell.

I thought I was doing the smart thing. Get all my appointments out of the way now, so that when I have a newborn/infant I don't have to deal with all of these pesky medical issues. So I canceled my appointment with the dentist (I had just gone six months ago. I really don't think it's necessary to go more than once a year - or so. . . . ) and booked myself a visit to the eye doctor. One of my most dreaded appointments ('Which is better? one or two? two or three? Three or four??!?!?'). And since my company recently changed our vision insurance to an increasingly crappy one, I had to change doctors too.

Mistakes #1 and #2.

Blissfully unaware of anything except that I was on my last pair of contacts and had been wearing them for four weeks (yikes!), I went to the eye doctor. To find out that I was no longer -.5 but now -.425!! My vision was getting better; I should keep eating carrots - maybe there would come a day when I would no longer have to have contacts or glasses. Could that happen?!

No. It can't. The doctor told me that my vision may have changed because I was pregnant, but still neglected to tell me that my vision may change back after having the baby. That I found out through the pearl of wisdom that is unsolicited advice from family and friends. Thanks, Doc, for telling part of the truth, not the whole truth and keeping silent about the truth.

A few days later I went back to order my contacts and (bad news again!) discovered that my crappy insurance allows me to use it only once to order contacts. Meaning, now that I found out my vision could change again, I could either waste my whole insurance usage on boxes of contacts that may not work later or buy contacts without using my insurance at all. And then come back in a few months, pay for another eye exam (because insurance only covers one) and get contacts then.

Sigh. . . . it's not that eye exams are that expensive or anything, but, really, it's the principle of the thing. When I waltzed up - and honestly it was more of a waddle than a waltz - at 36 weeks pregnant, did no one in the office think to say to me 'Hmmm. . did you know that your vision may change with pregnancy? It might be a good idea to come back later!' When I walked into the doctor's exam room, didn't he have some sort of obligation to warn me that this exact scenario might occur?

Now I have to go back to the stupid eye doctor and take another stupid eye test that insurance will not pay for. But I'm not going back to the same place I just went to. After all, it's the principle of the thing.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

A belly is a beautiful thing to waist

By the way, for all those friends who are still fitting into their size 27 and 28 jeans. . . .

my belly circumference is (drumroll please!):

42 inches.

That is right. 42 inches all around the belly at the widest part - the belly button. Try putting on a pair of 42 inch pants right now. Just try. I'll wait.

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

You're back already??

Yes, it can get that big.

Wonder now why I'm so tired after dragging around this extra 45-50 pounds everywhere I go?

There's no time like the right time

Now is the time when it starts to get hard.

Yes, it is hard right now - literally!! My tummy is hard as a rock now that Bjorn is taking up all this room. And I'm tired, I'm heavy and all I want to do is sleep and go to the bathroom.

But that's not what I mean when I say it is starting to get hard.

I mean that it is hard to do something as simple as calling a friend on the phone.

If I do, the first thing asked is 'Are you having Bjorn??' Family members aren't much better. No one even says 'Hello?' anymore. They glance at the caller ID, then fumble around until they breathlessly answer the phone with 'Are you in labor?' I've given up calling people entirely. In fact, I have given up my cell phone. I still take it with me when I leave the house, but I tend to leave it lying around the house, still on vibrate and then I don't answer it. For hours at a time, even. Kinda liberating, really.

I also don't like this whole not-knowing-what-the-hell-labor-feels-like thing I'm going through. Doc doesn't believe I haven't been having contractions (especially since I started having them about two weeks ago). But, really, how do I know what I'm feeling?? Maybe all this moving I think Bjorn is doing is not her at all, but a contraction? Maybe the gas pains are contractions? Maybe my back hurts not from picking up too many clothes/shoes/dog toys off the floor and is - in fact - a contraction? A friend of mine said that she went to the hospital to get induced and they told her that she was already in labor. That can happen. Apparently the first couple of hours don't really hurt, and some women aren't in pain at all until the very end! So, it's hard not knowing what is going on.

I'm a planner. I make To Do Lists. And I dutifully cross them off when the errands are done. Labor isn't something I can put on a To Do List - well, technically, I guess I could. If I wanted to be induced or schedule a C-section or something. Which I don't. But this whole not-knowing when or even IF it is happening is not fun at all.

At my last appointment, Doc said I am dilated 1/2 a cm. What that means - nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had a patient that same day who was dilated the same, so she thought nothing was going to happen and five hours later she was in active labor in the hospital and about to have her baby. And he had a patient who was 3 cm for three weeks. There really is no way of knowing.

Until I call and tell you, of course. Until then - do not answer the phone with 'Is it time???'

And, just to let everyone know, I am not anxious for this to happen. I do not hope it happens early. I have been told that I am the only pregnant woman ever to not be ready to have this whole thing over with, but I feel that Bjorn isn't quite done cooking yet. And when I'm finally done incubating, then it will be fine. But not before. Just because I may be a little uncomfortable does not mean I'm ready for this to be over. I'm enjoying it - it will never be like this again!!!

Monday, May 4, 2009

Grocery Store Etiquette

So, I'm standing in the grocery store this afternoon, my coupon book balanced on my belly as I flip through it, when one of their employees walks past me.

'Whew! When are you due?'

I look up, surprised and answer '4 weeks', all the while wondering, 'What the hell is it to you'? I was too startled to say it out loud though; I was too busy trying to figure out how to double my coupons and get the most bang for my buck.

'Wow! Well it looks horribly uncomfortable with it being so high and all!' And with that, she walked away.

Ummmm. . . did I ask you? Do I know you?

You know what else makes me horribly uncomfortable? Looking at your hair. It's screaming for some moisture and - I just have to tell ya - the crimped look was over in the '80s. So give up on flashdance, don't ask me questions and just stock the shelves, ok?!

This is the same store where last week, as I approached the checkout counter, the cashier said loudly 'Wow. You're fat!' (Yes, she really did!)

To which I replied, 'Wow! So are you!' In my head, at least. Out loud I think it was more like 'Good thing I really am pregnant, huh?!' Once again, just swipe my groceries and move on. You don't know me.

Why do I go back to this grocery store? Simple - they have the best prices and always double the coupons. If I could get out of there without someone talking to me, it would be the perfect shopping experience.

Back to today. . . . .

I like beer. Obviously, I don't drink it while pregnant, but I can't wait until the first hot summer day when I can drink again. In the meantime, though, DTB is enjoying beer for the both of us. So, with a sale this good on beer - 18 bottles for $11.88!! - I couldn't pass up the 'Limit 2' sign. I grabbed two.

Only to have the bagger raise her eyebrows at me and say 'Girrrrrlll!!! What are you doing?? You can't be drinking!' while I explain to her than in exactly four weeks I can drink thankyouverymuch and I will drink thankyouverymuch. Oh, yeah, and I think I'll come back later for two more packs to stock up. She did not think that was a good idea.

I declined her assistance with my cart (did she really think I was going to take her up on it??), walked out to the car and. . . .

dropped one of the cases of beer. Bottles smashed. Beer oozed from the bottom and sides of the case, puddling in front of my car. The smell - potent even in small doses - wafted through the heat, causing everyone in a four-mile radius to turn and stare at the pregnant lady who dropped her 18 bottles of beer.

I don't really get embarrassed, but this was different. I could feel the judgement and blame emanating off my fellow shoppers. Their eyes traveled from the spreading puddle of beer up to my belly and down again, never once looking me in the eye so as to spare me their reproach.

Then they all watched as I carefully stepped my 8 months pregnant belly over the sorry waste of beer and went inside to grab a replacement case.

What? You think I was going to let a sale like this pass me by?!

Friday, May 1, 2009

There's no business like making Preggo's nervous!

For those of y'all who have been keeping up with me for a while, you know that saying I don't like 'What to Expect when You're Expecting' is an understatement. Same with 'Fit Pregnancy for Dummies'. Although at one point, I tried to enjoy them (I really did!) neither one of these books worked for me.

Yet I never did unsubscribe myself to their emails. Instead I took the lazy way out and delete them everyday. So whatever made me change my mind and open one from Fit Pregnancy, I don't know. But you can bet I won't be doing it again.


Because this is the very first paragraph in the email. The first thing I saw:

Your Pregnancy: 36 Weeks

Hello, Preggo. There's a good chance your body harbors Group B streptococcus bacteria without your knowing it. If it colonizes in the vagina and is left untreated, it can infect your baby at birth. Make sure your doctor tests you for Group B strep between 35 and 37 weeks. Find out more about what's happening to your body, and your baby, this week.

Ummm. . sorry?!?!

This was the top of the page. Nothing saying 'Hey, you've almost made it! Way to go!' or 'Even maternity clothes aren't fitting anymore? That's ok!' or any other words of encouragement. There's not even a little paragraph about what your baby looks like (he has fingernails! he can chew on his hair when he's nervous!) No. Just talking about this virus that you could be giving to your baby without you even knowing it.

Wonderful. As if enough thoughts aren't running through my mind (did that sound like a bad pick-up line?), let's add one more to the mix. Thanks, Fit Pregnancy, for reminding me of something else I can't control that could be harmful. Appreciate it.