Sunday, October 12, 2008
Size of a Cow
I'm not that big, but I'm not really that small either. Being pregnant has taught me many things, one of them being that people generally don't have a f**king clue how big you're supposed to be at 25 weeks, 32 weeks, 40 weeks etc - but they'll certainly feel free to tell you how they think you should look. All babies grow differently, placentas attach in different places, and we all have a different amount of room between our pelvis and our rib cage. So, while it may sting a little for my uncle, a retired GP to say 'you're on the large side for 28 weeks' (after I'd already lied because I wasn't quite at 27 weeks) I'm just going to have suck it up. What does he know? He's probably only seen three maybe four hundred thousand pregnant woman in his career. That means nothing. They were all in the north of England and probably starved for decent food.
I've decided my response to people saying 'wow that's going to be a big baby' will be, 'not as big as your mouth'. Then I'm going to punch them in the neck.
If I weigh myself in the morning I've put on a *scant* 17lbs, just before I go to bed it's climbed to 21lbs. All completely normal. LK continues to be a superhero (probably because he realizes how close to neck-punching I'm getting). Last night after I dragged my massive frame up the stairs and vowed that this will be my last child, he said he thought I was handling it all much better than last time. I'm not sure I believe him, but it was a sweet thing to say. His neck is safe for a few more hours.
Most of the time I feel pretty good. I make comic grunting sounds whenever I have to pick something up off the floor (I'm seriously considering investing in one of those pooper-scooper doo-dads for clearing the carpet of Anna's positive zoo of plastic creatures). I can no longer bend straight down, instead I have to bow my knees akimbo to make room for the belly. My lower back is getting a little achy, but then I am still going to a weight-lifting class, so presumably I only have myself to blame. I can still run around after Anna, even if she pushes the envelope and breaks in to a sprint at the park and makes a bee-line for moving traffic. I can still sneeze without peeing, but only if I cross my legs fast enough.
My Mum reminded me about kegel excercises helping the perineum pre-birth. Apparently it reduces the risk of tearing. I'm not sure I have a perineum these days though, and I'm certainly not about to check. My theory on birthing this second baby is: do no kegel exercises, maintain no pelvic floor muscle tone and the baby will simply fall out while on the way to the car one morning. Perfect.
While seeing a 20lb weight gain admittedly did give me a good old scare last night (I only weigh myself about once a week) the thing I'm having the most problems with is the hunger. I am constantly thinking about food. Whilst eating one thing I'm already deciding what to eat next. I'm making bad decisions, eating a lot of rubbish because I'm too lazy to forage for a carrot. Or I'll eat the carrot in lieu of a marshmallow, but then I'll eat the marshmallow too. I am ready for the hunger to subside, I feel like a calorie black hole. I feel genuinely sorry for people who experience this level of hunger day in day out. I had my 1 hour glucose tolerance test last week, and was really quite surprised that I didn't get the call telling me I'd failed. I have been craving sugar to such an extent that I'd convinced myself I had gestational diabetes. I think the real answer is I'm working more or less full time, running around after Anna constantly, and I'm craving sugar because I'm tired. Really chuffing tired. If you're finding it hard to muster the energy to get off the couch and find that princess crown/plastic meer cat/Lion King DVD it's hard to make the right choice between a tomato or a handful (bagful) of ketel corn.
LK will say that I'm merely the vessel and creature #2 is the one in control. If I'm hungry, eat, and after all if she's only got a partially functioning umbilical cord, maybe now is not the time to diet. So I'm compromising, stuffing my face but also exercising a lot. Lots of walking round the neighbourhood, pushing my 30lb 3 year old in her jogger whilst trying not to nick a swig of her chocolate milk.
Basically I'm trying not to think about the possibility of a 10lb baby.