Too Pregnant to Blog: Lying-In Has Begun
Week 32
So...
You know those weekly updates you get when you are pregnant. They are so full of excitement and miraculous information about the "magic" happening in your body. Well...Mine should say something like this:
Lots of magical things are happening in your body this week with your little one. It's too bad you can't enjoy any of them because of the sciatica radiating down to your toes during the day and the heartburn keeping you up at night. You might have a moment to reflect on the miracle except that the general public won't stop talking about how you are "totally waddling" and you spend your personal reflection time plotting a lot of people's deaths. The bright side is that your husband isn't bothering to ask for dinner anymore and is existing on a diet of peanut butter and beer. At this point, he just pretends like you aren't even there which, quite honestly, is working out well for you both. He has begun referring to you as "it" to all of his coworkers and friends…as in, "don't anger it" or "It is resting" or, most likely, "It forgot to turn off the oven, again" . Your current child is so bored that he spends most of his time just standing guard in the upstairs hallway saluting people as they walk by. You wished it worried you more that you are phoning in this particular portion of his childhood, but the truth is, you just want to stand over the sink and eat Frosted Mini Wheats in your pajama pants. But, hang in there Mama, this too shall pass...and its all gonna be worth it when you bring your bundle of joy home in a few weeks, put him in his crib and cry for three hours because none of your shoes fit anymore.
So...
I have begun my lying in.
This is an ancient childbirth term used to describe the time when pregnant
women would stop doing anything productive around the house and just sit around
on every pillow they owned with the DVR clicker and a huge bag of cheddar flavor-blasted
goldfish.
So bed rest is, essentially, a historical thing. And you know how I love history. Thankfully, I'm not medically on bed rest, which is why I prefer to call my reduced schedule, Lying-in.
So bed rest is, essentially, a historical thing. And you know how I love history. Thankfully, I'm not medically on bed rest, which is why I prefer to call my reduced schedule, Lying-in.
It basically means that I have chosen to cease all activities except work…and here’s why:
1. I am, apparently, working on becoming a champion
at swelling. I was never really proud of my ankles…not my best feature,
however, I find that I sure do miss them now that they are gone.
2. Sciatica.
In both hips. Every time I stand
up, I want to cry.
3. I am currently burdened with a heart monitor
that I must wear 24 hours a day for 30 days.
- Ah yes…Big Bertha (as I have
dubbed her). I had bad heart
palpitations for three days straight and as a result, I’m being monitored by
people all over the country through a gigantic and heavy heart monitor that I
wear around my neck. It is absolutely
not discreet, hurts my neck and I hate it. Thankfully, I have had no further
heart palpitations and a clean EKG and echo.
But, yes, I feel like I’m a hundred years old. I would love to bedazzle Big Bertha…jazz her
up a bit…but alas, she is on loan only.
Lest you think I complain too much, here is the bright side
to all of this – well, mostly Big Bertha because there isn’t actually a bright
side to sciatica.
- 1. I get so many doors opened for me at this point
that it almost makes up for the number of gasps I get from people when they
find out I still have 8 weeks to go.
- 2. No one at work argues with me…about
anything. I held big Bertha up to one of
my coworkers a few days ago and reminded them not to upset me. “If you upset me,” I said, “Someone from
eCardio is going to call me…then I’m going to give them your number and you are
going to have some explaining to do.” It
works better than randomly bursting into tears on the job. I’m not sure I’ll want to give Big Bertha back.
- 3. Last week, at the grocery store when I disputed
the price of the 12 pack of beer I was buying (because I’m classy like that),
the 16 year-old check out boy didn’t attempt to argue. He didn’t even make me show him the sale
flyer to prove it. He immediately called
the manager over and they both took the age-old company line, which as you know
is… “The hugely pregnant customer with the heart monitor is always right
about the price of her beer.”
I so appreciate great customer service.
I so appreciate great customer service.
At any rate, I’m still here, still pregnant. Looking forward to this guy’s birth. Oh and, just in case you were wondering…we
have a name.
Wesley Webb T.
Can’t wait to squish his big fat cheeks!
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