Well, Tilly's decided that 2 am seemed like a good time to wake up on a Saturday morning, so here I am, wide awake just pondering Tilly-kins and stuff in general (like pizza - God, I love pizza). Then I thought of something that has really been sticking in my craw (is that the right saying? Well it is now.) - the fact that people seem to think pregnant women are all bundles of joy and anything that makes them a little upset MUST be the hormones.
Oh those nasty hormones. As a girl, when we got our first visit from "Aunt Flo" (boys, I'm talking about our periods - get over it) not only did we have the new-found joy of wearing diaper-like apparatus stuck to our panties, but we had to shop for LOTS of black pants because you just never knew when a pad would slip and there you would be in math with leakage (and another thing boys - when we had / still have leakage, it's BLOOD contrary to the maxi pad commercial belief of blue liquid).
The other joyful thing was that when somebody (invariably you boys) did something insensitive / stupid / downright mean and we got mad and told you so, we didn't get the proper respect that our tirade deserved. No... we got a newly teenaged boy taunting us with "Somebody's got PMS" - looking back they probably didn't know what those 3 ominous letters stood for, but they did know it was enough for us to get even more frustrated with them and give up on any rational conversation or interaction with them.
Yep, that damn PMS keeps following us and mostly men blaming said hormones for anything they do that we don't like. (Disclaimer - don't get made at Tyler for these - I dated manys a jerk long before I met him. And I have a brother. And friends with manys a jerk as well)
- You're mad at me for going out all night, getting hammered, and puking ALL OVER your bathroom then asking you to make me breakfast while I'm hungover? Must be PMS.
- You don't like that I used your credit card to buy this samurai sword with nunchuks that I used to break your lamp? Must be PMS.
- You're jealous because I've "reconnected" with my super hot and single ex-girlfriend and we've been going for coffee / lunch weekly for the last 3 months? We're just friends! Must be PMS.
- You're strangling me because I ate the last Kit Kat? Must be... Okay, that one may be justified.
Now here's the kicker - being pregnant does have the upside of not even caring about tampons for 9 months and the PMS shadow is gone. To unfortunately be replaced with not only men, but women too, saying, "Oh, she's mad about something (no matter how justified). Must be the hormones."
I feel like saying to these people - HAVE YOU MET ME BEFORE I WAS WITH CHILD?! And 99% of them have known me a long time - you would think long enough to know better, but...
Yes, I know the pregnancy-related waterworks are hormone related. Sitting at the dinner table with my parents, laughing, with the news on in the background. Then out of nowhere, a story about a boy giving half his liver to his mom to save her life and suddenly, there I am still laughing but there are tears POURING out of my eyes. That is the hormones.
Telling people a story about my first week at my new job. I need to learn about using and updating the website. Call our provider, set up a time, and long story short, he proceeds to leave me sit in his waiting room, being almost half an hour late for the meeting at HIS office made to fit HIS schedule. When he finally shows up with a lame half-assed apology, I inform him very calmly that this is not how I do business, that being late for a meeting with me shows complete disrespect and will not be tolerated and that next time, after a 5 minute wait, I will be leaving, with all future meetings happening at MY office and finally, that I will not be paying for this training session as he's already used up a quarter of it being late. I then shake his hand and get down to business for an hour and a half, without mentioning it again.
What do I hear? Stick to your guns! Good for you for not putting up with that! Way to listen to Oprah and show people how you expect and deserve to be treated. NOPE. Gee, those hormones sure are kicking in - glad I don't have to work for you while you're pregnant. Did the world seem to think that I became Mary F*ing Poppins the second Tilly was created inside me?! I wouldn't have put up with this when I wasn't pregnant so why am I expected to now?!
Funny thing is, when people blame the hormones for something very-not hormone related, it's as if it sets said hormones off like illegal fireworks on a beach while houseboating - they go every which way and are very dangerous. I use every ounce of willpower I have (which is a lot without the usual fortifier of vodka) not to scream, scratch their eyes out, and punch them through a door like a Jason Statham movie while gargling the cry that Zena Warrior Princess used to do before she kicked ass.
Instead I smile sweetly, dig my fingernails into my palms to the point of verging on piercing the skin, and walk away with some lame excuse like needing to go to the washroom.
All I gotta say is if you actually think that whatever I'm doing IS caused by hormones, keep it to yourself or the last thing you'll hear is Zena while being taken down by nunchuks.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
Thursday, 21 July 2011
You can't do that
First off, sorry for my tardiness in posting a new blog. With moving and general sleepiness, all blogs I tried to write came out whiny / bitchy / completely senseless, so here I go with what I hope will be better...
I've discovered over the last month, and especially the last few weeks, that there are more and more things I can't do as a pregnant chick and while at first a few of them are kind of nice, it is starting to get a little annoying.
Sure, right from the get go, I knew that my former life as an extreme BMX rider, kickboxer, skydiver and heli-snowboarder were over, but didn't realize the little things I would grow to miss.
1. Lifting stuff
At first, kind of cool when I'm very strictly told not to lift any boxes / heavy stuff. For example, in the course of my move, Tyler loaded all my belongings up and down and up and down the stairs of our 3 story walk-up apartment. I carried my purse and snacks. Felt right. Figured it was justified - I'm carrying our baby for 9 months - at least you can carry my 2 overstuffed suitcases and various other things I've deemed can't-live-without-able (like my cookbooks, 25 purses, and my stuffed ET doll I've had since the mid-80's - don't judge)
Then, starting a new job, it's started getting sort of inconvenient. Water cooler's out of water. Search our office for a male - smile sweetly, ask him to leave his important work that I can tell he's right in the middle of, and ask him to change the jugs. You see they are genuinely nice guys, and the pregnant lady did ask, so here they come to do it for me. Ditto with changing the recycling bag, putting / taking t-shirt boxes out of my car, and reaching heavy stuff that was put on the top of my desk in 2001 by a nameless entity that I want to remove from the premises. At least I can still lift the file folders.
2. Lying / Sleeping on my back
Never knew this one before. Apparently, when you lie completely flat on your back, it makes baby squish some kind of blood vessel and she doesn't get as much blood = bad. I may already be a bad mommy, because I try really diligently to go to bed on my side (pillow between my legs, the beloved body pillow from my friend Cara wedged behind me like I'm in a trench in WWII). Yet somehow, invariably, I wake up in the middle of the night (see point #3) with the leg pillow across the room and I have somehow managed to roll over the body pillow in steamboat fashion to be lying on my back. (Remember steamboat? Sleepovers with your friends and just when everyone's asleep, someone screams "STEAMBOAT" at the top of their lungs and proceeds to roll across everyone on the floor? Also good to use when having to wake up your little brother on Christmas / Easter / any morning before he was bigger than you?)
Anyhoo, then when going back to sleep, reconstruct "The Trench" only to have it defeated again in the morning. And now, at 22 weeks, the Tilly-meister is getting back at me because somehow, when I roll on my back, I can't catch my breath - it's like she's saying, cut off my blood, I'll cut off your air. She's totally gonna be a badass and I haven't decided if I like that or not.
3. Sleeping through the night
This may be the thing I miss the most of all, those blissful nights and curling in a little ball on my tummy or back (both now forbidden), empty bladder and conking out for a magnificent 8-10 hours. Tilly doesn't like to sleep that long - I think she gets bored and decides to see how she can mess with me. Some of the wonderful pregnancy side effects seem to include back spasms (like she did a total round-house kick to my lower back followed by some elbows and maybe she even bit me), leg spasms (I suspect she's inherently learned some ancient Chinese medicine so she knows just how to move to make my foot / calve muscle / knee jerk and spasm), extreme body heat (maybe she's having a Zumba class in there? 2 fans on me and I feel like I'm in Mexico in July), and of course, the funnest of all, the need to pee - over and over. I think she just gives my bladder a little nudge when she wants to get up and unless I want to start wearing adult diapers, up I get to relieve myself.
4. Everything else
Oh how the list can go on and on. I miss people NOT touching my belly - a woman in Walmart that I've never seen and probably only know through 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon gave my belly a little pat. WTF? When did this become a lucky talisman that people rub before purchasing their weekly Lotto Max ticket?
Eating fish - my memories of delicious salmon, awesome sushi, and all other fishy dishes were awesome. My new reality is that I find them and the smell grosser than used bandaids in a bowl of feces. Sigh.
My shoes are sooooooo beautiful - so pretty that I bought little clear plastic show boxes for them to live in until I could wear them next. Nowadays, my feet are looking a tad sausage like and putting on my heels makes me feel like I'm going to fall over - at least my 8 year old niece can still come and play with them (and she walks in them perfectly).
Okay, I should probably stop there - I have a much longer list, but if I keep going, you're going to probably say "Gee, I thought Shannon was going to try to make this post less whiny." and then you'll delete me on FB.
Besides I should probably go and have breakfast - without coffee or the now-horrendous smell of breakfast sausage - and because Tilly is kicking me in the bladder again...
I've discovered over the last month, and especially the last few weeks, that there are more and more things I can't do as a pregnant chick and while at first a few of them are kind of nice, it is starting to get a little annoying.
Sure, right from the get go, I knew that my former life as an extreme BMX rider, kickboxer, skydiver and heli-snowboarder were over, but didn't realize the little things I would grow to miss.
1. Lifting stuff
At first, kind of cool when I'm very strictly told not to lift any boxes / heavy stuff. For example, in the course of my move, Tyler loaded all my belongings up and down and up and down the stairs of our 3 story walk-up apartment. I carried my purse and snacks. Felt right. Figured it was justified - I'm carrying our baby for 9 months - at least you can carry my 2 overstuffed suitcases and various other things I've deemed can't-live-without-able (like my cookbooks, 25 purses, and my stuffed ET doll I've had since the mid-80's - don't judge)
Then, starting a new job, it's started getting sort of inconvenient. Water cooler's out of water. Search our office for a male - smile sweetly, ask him to leave his important work that I can tell he's right in the middle of, and ask him to change the jugs. You see they are genuinely nice guys, and the pregnant lady did ask, so here they come to do it for me. Ditto with changing the recycling bag, putting / taking t-shirt boxes out of my car, and reaching heavy stuff that was put on the top of my desk in 2001 by a nameless entity that I want to remove from the premises. At least I can still lift the file folders.
2. Lying / Sleeping on my back
Never knew this one before. Apparently, when you lie completely flat on your back, it makes baby squish some kind of blood vessel and she doesn't get as much blood = bad. I may already be a bad mommy, because I try really diligently to go to bed on my side (pillow between my legs, the beloved body pillow from my friend Cara wedged behind me like I'm in a trench in WWII). Yet somehow, invariably, I wake up in the middle of the night (see point #3) with the leg pillow across the room and I have somehow managed to roll over the body pillow in steamboat fashion to be lying on my back. (Remember steamboat? Sleepovers with your friends and just when everyone's asleep, someone screams "STEAMBOAT" at the top of their lungs and proceeds to roll across everyone on the floor? Also good to use when having to wake up your little brother on Christmas / Easter / any morning before he was bigger than you?)
Anyhoo, then when going back to sleep, reconstruct "The Trench" only to have it defeated again in the morning. And now, at 22 weeks, the Tilly-meister is getting back at me because somehow, when I roll on my back, I can't catch my breath - it's like she's saying, cut off my blood, I'll cut off your air. She's totally gonna be a badass and I haven't decided if I like that or not.
3. Sleeping through the night
This may be the thing I miss the most of all, those blissful nights and curling in a little ball on my tummy or back (both now forbidden), empty bladder and conking out for a magnificent 8-10 hours. Tilly doesn't like to sleep that long - I think she gets bored and decides to see how she can mess with me. Some of the wonderful pregnancy side effects seem to include back spasms (like she did a total round-house kick to my lower back followed by some elbows and maybe she even bit me), leg spasms (I suspect she's inherently learned some ancient Chinese medicine so she knows just how to move to make my foot / calve muscle / knee jerk and spasm), extreme body heat (maybe she's having a Zumba class in there? 2 fans on me and I feel like I'm in Mexico in July), and of course, the funnest of all, the need to pee - over and over. I think she just gives my bladder a little nudge when she wants to get up and unless I want to start wearing adult diapers, up I get to relieve myself.
4. Everything else
Oh how the list can go on and on. I miss people NOT touching my belly - a woman in Walmart that I've never seen and probably only know through 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon gave my belly a little pat. WTF? When did this become a lucky talisman that people rub before purchasing their weekly Lotto Max ticket?
Eating fish - my memories of delicious salmon, awesome sushi, and all other fishy dishes were awesome. My new reality is that I find them and the smell grosser than used bandaids in a bowl of feces. Sigh.
My shoes are sooooooo beautiful - so pretty that I bought little clear plastic show boxes for them to live in until I could wear them next. Nowadays, my feet are looking a tad sausage like and putting on my heels makes me feel like I'm going to fall over - at least my 8 year old niece can still come and play with them (and she walks in them perfectly).
Okay, I should probably stop there - I have a much longer list, but if I keep going, you're going to probably say "Gee, I thought Shannon was going to try to make this post less whiny." and then you'll delete me on FB.
Besides I should probably go and have breakfast - without coffee or the now-horrendous smell of breakfast sausage - and because Tilly is kicking me in the bladder again...
Saturday, 9 July 2011
Big Girls Don't Cry - unless they're pregnant.
Seriously, I've figured out why I now need to increase my water intake to that of a fish - I need to supplement for all the tears I seem to shed. I know this must be incredibly frustrating for those around me. Case in point, a day in my boyfriend's store:
Me: They didn't slice brownies last night
Ty: Oh well, guess they were just lazy.
Me: Well, there's lots of people who really like them and now they're not gonna get any today (tears begin)
Ty: Are you starting to cry?
Me: Yes - I just think it's really important that things get done when they're supposed to.
Ty: Uh, this really isn't worth crying over.
Me: You think I don't know that?!? Just... leave me alone (and then I proceed to go hide beside the slushie machine and sob for a moment and then back to normal)
Unfortunately, this is not an isolated incident. It started out just heightened emotions - you know, tearing up / crying during the last of the Oprah shows, Extreme Home Makeover, and other common tear jerkers. Sure, my crying was a little more intense than usual, lasted a little longer, but still, thankfully, justified.
However, in this second trimester, where the 24/7 nausea has mercifully left the compound (except for the occasional and unwelcome flashback), I am now forced to endure a minimum of twice daily crying bouts. I think the nausea used to act like a distraction, with my body and mind so focused on not puking, there was no time for superfluous waterworks. Now though...
- watching the Food Network (yes, seriously)... Chef at Home made such a nice dinner for his wife and look at how good his little boy is about trying at least a bit of everything. It's so beautiful... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Putting on my makeup... my eyeliner tip just broke and I can't find the sharpener, and I'm almost out of my favourite eyeshadow... WAAAAAAAAAAAH
- Listening to my iPod (you'd think it'd be justified but wait)... Oh the Counting Crows Mr Jones... I loved this song and it was the my favourite the summer I moved to Calgary... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Shopping for maternity clothes... I really liked these pregnancy jeans, but they're the only ones not on sale and the other pair makes my butt look fat... WAAAAAAAAAH
- In the food court... I want sushi but I can't have it - don't Japanese women get pregnant?!? Why can they have sushi and I can't?! WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Reading a book (again, not as justified as you would think)... The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo had such a bad mommy and she's gotten so screwed... poor dragon tattoo girl... WAAAAAAAAAH
- Driving around town... I just let that guy in and it's super busy traffic and I didn't even get a thank you wave from that asshole... WAAAAAAAAAAH
Of course, this last week, I'm in the process of getting ready to move to Regina for work and leave my baby daddy in Calgary, who by the way, gives Tilly kissies and talks to her every day, so I've learned to set my alarm a half an hour early just to give myself enough time for the inevitable blubbering to subside.
Yes, I used to have my extra sensitive moments, usually around my time of the month, but my favourite coping mechanism (vodka / margaritas / sangria / bailey's) has been ripped from my grasp. My second favourite was ice cream, chocolate, etc, but it seems as though Tilly's not a big fan of these - one spoonful / square and that's that... What am I gonna do with this child?!
I figure in the meantime, I need to team up with a scientist that can help me develop a few things, like kleenex that doubles as blotting papers, a mascara that will withstand the constant tears, because quite frankly, conventional waterproof is really letting me down, and some sort of candy like those nausea Preggie Pops that when unwarranted and ridiculous tears start to come on, I can just pop in my mouth and it will all subside.
On the upside, at least my tear ducts are being cleansed regularly.
Please God, make this kid start to love Kit Kats or I'm screwed.
Me: They didn't slice brownies last night
Ty: Oh well, guess they were just lazy.
Me: Well, there's lots of people who really like them and now they're not gonna get any today (tears begin)
Ty: Are you starting to cry?
Me: Yes - I just think it's really important that things get done when they're supposed to.
Ty: Uh, this really isn't worth crying over.
Me: You think I don't know that?!? Just... leave me alone (and then I proceed to go hide beside the slushie machine and sob for a moment and then back to normal)
Unfortunately, this is not an isolated incident. It started out just heightened emotions - you know, tearing up / crying during the last of the Oprah shows, Extreme Home Makeover, and other common tear jerkers. Sure, my crying was a little more intense than usual, lasted a little longer, but still, thankfully, justified.
However, in this second trimester, where the 24/7 nausea has mercifully left the compound (except for the occasional and unwelcome flashback), I am now forced to endure a minimum of twice daily crying bouts. I think the nausea used to act like a distraction, with my body and mind so focused on not puking, there was no time for superfluous waterworks. Now though...
- watching the Food Network (yes, seriously)... Chef at Home made such a nice dinner for his wife and look at how good his little boy is about trying at least a bit of everything. It's so beautiful... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Putting on my makeup... my eyeliner tip just broke and I can't find the sharpener, and I'm almost out of my favourite eyeshadow... WAAAAAAAAAAAH
- Listening to my iPod (you'd think it'd be justified but wait)... Oh the Counting Crows Mr Jones... I loved this song and it was the my favourite the summer I moved to Calgary... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Shopping for maternity clothes... I really liked these pregnancy jeans, but they're the only ones not on sale and the other pair makes my butt look fat... WAAAAAAAAAH
- In the food court... I want sushi but I can't have it - don't Japanese women get pregnant?!? Why can they have sushi and I can't?! WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Reading a book (again, not as justified as you would think)... The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo had such a bad mommy and she's gotten so screwed... poor dragon tattoo girl... WAAAAAAAAAH
- Driving around town... I just let that guy in and it's super busy traffic and I didn't even get a thank you wave from that asshole... WAAAAAAAAAAH
Of course, this last week, I'm in the process of getting ready to move to Regina for work and leave my baby daddy in Calgary, who by the way, gives Tilly kissies and talks to her every day, so I've learned to set my alarm a half an hour early just to give myself enough time for the inevitable blubbering to subside.
Yes, I used to have my extra sensitive moments, usually around my time of the month, but my favourite coping mechanism (vodka / margaritas / sangria / bailey's) has been ripped from my grasp. My second favourite was ice cream, chocolate, etc, but it seems as though Tilly's not a big fan of these - one spoonful / square and that's that... What am I gonna do with this child?!
I figure in the meantime, I need to team up with a scientist that can help me develop a few things, like kleenex that doubles as blotting papers, a mascara that will withstand the constant tears, because quite frankly, conventional waterproof is really letting me down, and some sort of candy like those nausea Preggie Pops that when unwarranted and ridiculous tears start to come on, I can just pop in my mouth and it will all subside.
On the upside, at least my tear ducts are being cleansed regularly.
Please God, make this kid start to love Kit Kats or I'm screwed.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Dear Ottilia #1...
Dear Ottilia;
Hi my little girl! This is your mommy. You're still just a little astronaut in my tummy, but I thought I should write you a letter to let you know about what's happening and some of the things I am hoping will and won't happen once you decide to make your debut.
Mommy loves you, but I have started to keep a record for every bit of nausea, headaches, emergency trips to the doctor, weird bumps / rashes, aversions to my favourite foods, and generally crappiness I have been feeling. When you start to hit puberty and are driving me up the wall, I will be bringing out said journal in front of your friends and start listing them off. You've been warned.
While I know you'll be adorable, I want you to use your head. You will read books and think for yourself. Self esteem is good, but I don't want you to play dumb for a boy. If you do, I will ship you off to a school run by nuns and it won't be just like the Sound of Music. Although it may be in Austria. I haven't decided yet.
If I hear you've been hanging out with Charlie Sheen wannabes, there will be an intervention and it will not be pretty - I will be contacting those witches from Sleeping Beauty and putting you into a slumber until me and your daddy can "take care" of the scumbags. Scumbags - fair warning... mess with the momma bear and you will be mauled. And hidden in a forest.
I want you to realize that from the day Mommy peed on her magic Clear Blue stick and found out that you'd been hitching a ride in there, me and your Daddy were instantly in love with you with all our hearts and we would do anything for you. Along with that comes some stuff we know we will do that will annoy / embarrass you. I apologize in advance for the following:
- giving you big wet kisses and hugs, while telling you how much I love you in a version of baby talk, all in front of your friends and a boy you like
- taking you to the mall to get your first training bra and talking to the salesperson about you growing little boobies and pushing them into position, probably while there's at least another girl from your class in the same dressing room
- having the birds and the bees talk with you - just know, it won't be terribly easy for me either, and I would rather be watching whatever substitute for Grey's Anatomy will be on television, but we'll get through it together.
- showing you how to use a tampon, pluck your eyebrows, and shave your legs... There will be a little blood, and little pain, but it will be worth it. Hopefully.
- your Daddy standing at the door and being threatening (perhaps with a gun) when a boy comes to pick you up for your first date. That's just something Daddy's do - you're his little girl now and forever and if anyone messes with you, he'll be annihilated (and that's not figurative. I'm serious.)
Well Tilly, that's all your mommy can think of for now. If you're reading this, I'm probably sleeping and you've snuck onto my computer and found the link. That's what I get for having a baby genius on my hands.
Love,
Mommy.
Hi my little girl! This is your mommy. You're still just a little astronaut in my tummy, but I thought I should write you a letter to let you know about what's happening and some of the things I am hoping will and won't happen once you decide to make your debut.
Mommy loves you, but I have started to keep a record for every bit of nausea, headaches, emergency trips to the doctor, weird bumps / rashes, aversions to my favourite foods, and generally crappiness I have been feeling. When you start to hit puberty and are driving me up the wall, I will be bringing out said journal in front of your friends and start listing them off. You've been warned.
While I know you'll be adorable, I want you to use your head. You will read books and think for yourself. Self esteem is good, but I don't want you to play dumb for a boy. If you do, I will ship you off to a school run by nuns and it won't be just like the Sound of Music. Although it may be in Austria. I haven't decided yet.
If I hear you've been hanging out with Charlie Sheen wannabes, there will be an intervention and it will not be pretty - I will be contacting those witches from Sleeping Beauty and putting you into a slumber until me and your daddy can "take care" of the scumbags. Scumbags - fair warning... mess with the momma bear and you will be mauled. And hidden in a forest.
I want you to realize that from the day Mommy peed on her magic Clear Blue stick and found out that you'd been hitching a ride in there, me and your Daddy were instantly in love with you with all our hearts and we would do anything for you. Along with that comes some stuff we know we will do that will annoy / embarrass you. I apologize in advance for the following:
- giving you big wet kisses and hugs, while telling you how much I love you in a version of baby talk, all in front of your friends and a boy you like
- taking you to the mall to get your first training bra and talking to the salesperson about you growing little boobies and pushing them into position, probably while there's at least another girl from your class in the same dressing room
- having the birds and the bees talk with you - just know, it won't be terribly easy for me either, and I would rather be watching whatever substitute for Grey's Anatomy will be on television, but we'll get through it together.
- showing you how to use a tampon, pluck your eyebrows, and shave your legs... There will be a little blood, and little pain, but it will be worth it. Hopefully.
- your Daddy standing at the door and being threatening (perhaps with a gun) when a boy comes to pick you up for your first date. That's just something Daddy's do - you're his little girl now and forever and if anyone messes with you, he'll be annihilated (and that's not figurative. I'm serious.)
Well Tilly, that's all your mommy can think of for now. If you're reading this, I'm probably sleeping and you've snuck onto my computer and found the link. That's what I get for having a baby genius on my hands.
Love,
Mommy.
Friday, 24 June 2011
And the winner is...
Off to the ultrasound I go, Tyler in tow... Drink a gallon or 12 of water to make sure the baby has nowhere to hide... We're both vibrating with excitement and anticipation - with a little bit of having to pee thrown in.
Get to the clinic and get shown to my special waiting area. We sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Bladder is getting very full. Wow, this chair must be made for someone at least 5 inches taller than me because I just can't get comfortable. Look over at boyfriend - he is texting people about the NHL draft. Seriously buddy?! We're waiting to see the friggin' miracle of life and you're more concerned about a possible Regehr trade and some other blah-dy blah blah hockey stuff?! Give him a glare and demand the phone gets turned off. Start to get an objection but throw a look of death and dismemberment and iPhone is turned off. Smart boy.
Finally, the tech comes out and shows us into the room - lay down on the table, gel gets squirted all over, and she starts looking... Right off the bat, we tell her we're here to find out the sex - no ifs, ands, or buts. She smiles sweetly and says no problem, just a couple things that we need to check first...
Head measurements, hands, feet, heart, spine... It's been a half an hour and we just wanna see the bits and pieces already!! Tech says the babies being very cooperative - I say it must be a girl. Then she shows us the hand and it looks like the baby's giving us the finger - Ty thinks that's the sign of a boy...
Finally, she types GENDER on the top of the screen, shows us the baby's legs and makes a little tap with the paddle... the baby turns and she points to the screen... says, see those 3 little lines right there? We nod. That's as clear as it can get - congratulations, it's a GIRL.
YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!! A baby girl! Baby Ottilia (aka Tilly)!
The tech walks out of the room and we're breaking out the texts like it's going out of style. Big dumb smiles on our faces - gonna have a beautiful baby daughter... Now to somehow keep her room and wardrobe from looking like a pink flamingo threw up all over it.
Get to the clinic and get shown to my special waiting area. We sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Bladder is getting very full. Wow, this chair must be made for someone at least 5 inches taller than me because I just can't get comfortable. Look over at boyfriend - he is texting people about the NHL draft. Seriously buddy?! We're waiting to see the friggin' miracle of life and you're more concerned about a possible Regehr trade and some other blah-dy blah blah hockey stuff?! Give him a glare and demand the phone gets turned off. Start to get an objection but throw a look of death and dismemberment and iPhone is turned off. Smart boy.
Finally, the tech comes out and shows us into the room - lay down on the table, gel gets squirted all over, and she starts looking... Right off the bat, we tell her we're here to find out the sex - no ifs, ands, or buts. She smiles sweetly and says no problem, just a couple things that we need to check first...
Head measurements, hands, feet, heart, spine... It's been a half an hour and we just wanna see the bits and pieces already!! Tech says the babies being very cooperative - I say it must be a girl. Then she shows us the hand and it looks like the baby's giving us the finger - Ty thinks that's the sign of a boy...
Finally, she types GENDER on the top of the screen, shows us the baby's legs and makes a little tap with the paddle... the baby turns and she points to the screen... says, see those 3 little lines right there? We nod. That's as clear as it can get - congratulations, it's a GIRL.
YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!! A baby girl! Baby Ottilia (aka Tilly)!
The tech walks out of the room and we're breaking out the texts like it's going out of style. Big dumb smiles on our faces - gonna have a beautiful baby daughter... Now to somehow keep her room and wardrobe from looking like a pink flamingo threw up all over it.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
What brand of baby...
This Friday is it. THE ultrasound... THE one that everyone asks about - we're finding out what flavour of baby is sucking all the nutrients from my body like a cute little parasite.
Will I be inundated with pink, bows, and frills - either for a girl or fag hags and fellow lovers of 'Glee' trying to ensure that my boy will love show tunes and be excellent at coordinating an outfit?
Will it be blue, along with trucks, GI Joes, and footballs for an impending boy or girl that will kick ass and fix my car?
And then there's the name question... Yes, the names are picked out. And no, I'm not naming my child after you, your pet, a piece of fruit, or spelling some word in reverse to try to make up a name (did you know that a big one a few years back was Nevaeh? Blech..........)
As for the surprise... I've already heard it - what do you mean you're finding out?!? Don't you want the surprise when you're in the waiting room? It makes the birth that much more exciting!
Here is my answer to that - I've already had enough surprises, thank you very much.
Surprise #1: peeing on a Clear Blue Easy stick and a plus sign showing up... Especially since I never missed a period (welome to the world of implantation bleeding and spotting) Almost lost my dinner on that one.
Surprise #2: Just HOW sick you get while pregnant - I actually did lose my dinner a few times and for over 3 months, constantly felt like I was going to... Whoopee, surprises are so fun!
Surprise #3: The ineptitude of a select few members of the medical field in Canada - a medical intern not being able to read test results and a phlebotomist pricking me repeatedly like an acupuncture treatment gone bad.
Surprise #4: The fact that at a very young feeling 37, I am considered an "at-risk" pregnancy for no reason other than I am 37. Are you kidding? I'm awesome and the baby will be fine - at least I'm no longer the dumbass I was at 20 (admit it - we were all dumbasses at 20)
Surprise #5: Pregnancy induced narcolepsy - I have never been a big napper, but I'm scared to drive in rush hour traffic... If I stop too long, I may be lulled to sleep by the soft sounds coming from my radio and the gentle vibrations of the car engine
Surprise #6: Baby makes me want to eat like I'm in college again. Cravings? Only 2 - peanut butter and banana on toast and pepperoni and bacon Pizza Pops. Seriously baby? Sometime I would like a juicy steak, but oh no, you want a pizza pop?!
Surprise #7: Last week I went to bed. Happened to look down and there were my feet. Woke up the next morning. Somehow, overnight, my feet have disappeared under my belly. Looks like baby's renos of my uterus have moved on to the next stage of expansion...
Surprise #8: This one was a very happy one. Go to Walmart. Parking lot is insane (like usual). Driving around and spot an oasis - the expectant mother / young family parking spot RIGHT next to the handicapped spot. Zip in, get a nasty look from a woman walking by UNTIL I step out and show off the belly. Pregnancy may have a few perks after all...
Now when can I get the expectant mother discount on my PB and Pizza Pops? Do I need a card or something?
Will I be inundated with pink, bows, and frills - either for a girl or fag hags and fellow lovers of 'Glee' trying to ensure that my boy will love show tunes and be excellent at coordinating an outfit?
Will it be blue, along with trucks, GI Joes, and footballs for an impending boy or girl that will kick ass and fix my car?
And then there's the name question... Yes, the names are picked out. And no, I'm not naming my child after you, your pet, a piece of fruit, or spelling some word in reverse to try to make up a name (did you know that a big one a few years back was Nevaeh? Blech..........)
As for the surprise... I've already heard it - what do you mean you're finding out?!? Don't you want the surprise when you're in the waiting room? It makes the birth that much more exciting!
Here is my answer to that - I've already had enough surprises, thank you very much.
Surprise #1: peeing on a Clear Blue Easy stick and a plus sign showing up... Especially since I never missed a period (welome to the world of implantation bleeding and spotting) Almost lost my dinner on that one.
Surprise #2: Just HOW sick you get while pregnant - I actually did lose my dinner a few times and for over 3 months, constantly felt like I was going to... Whoopee, surprises are so fun!
Surprise #3: The ineptitude of a select few members of the medical field in Canada - a medical intern not being able to read test results and a phlebotomist pricking me repeatedly like an acupuncture treatment gone bad.
Surprise #4: The fact that at a very young feeling 37, I am considered an "at-risk" pregnancy for no reason other than I am 37. Are you kidding? I'm awesome and the baby will be fine - at least I'm no longer the dumbass I was at 20 (admit it - we were all dumbasses at 20)
Surprise #5: Pregnancy induced narcolepsy - I have never been a big napper, but I'm scared to drive in rush hour traffic... If I stop too long, I may be lulled to sleep by the soft sounds coming from my radio and the gentle vibrations of the car engine
Surprise #6: Baby makes me want to eat like I'm in college again. Cravings? Only 2 - peanut butter and banana on toast and pepperoni and bacon Pizza Pops. Seriously baby? Sometime I would like a juicy steak, but oh no, you want a pizza pop?!
Surprise #7: Last week I went to bed. Happened to look down and there were my feet. Woke up the next morning. Somehow, overnight, my feet have disappeared under my belly. Looks like baby's renos of my uterus have moved on to the next stage of expansion...
Surprise #8: This one was a very happy one. Go to Walmart. Parking lot is insane (like usual). Driving around and spot an oasis - the expectant mother / young family parking spot RIGHT next to the handicapped spot. Zip in, get a nasty look from a woman walking by UNTIL I step out and show off the belly. Pregnancy may have a few perks after all...
Now when can I get the expectant mother discount on my PB and Pizza Pops? Do I need a card or something?
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Drug sniffing pregnant women
I'll clarify right off the bat - I don't mean to have pregnant women become crackheads. I am referring more to the pregnant "Superman" smell... the fact that my boyfriend can walk in the house and, even though he's 15 feet away, I can smell the single beer he just drank. Or a friend mentioning how good a pizza smelled at a restaurant, only to have her husband look around for the "amazing" pizza to see that it was served 4 tables away!
I know that personally, the super smell has it's benefits and it's problems - I cannot stand the smell of meat cooking, cheap cologne, and don't even get me started on pot smoke... which brings me to my new theory...
Picture this - you go to the airport, and there's no drug sniffing dogs around... but there's a dozen pregnant women, walking around, looking like they're about to jet off somewhere fabulous... SUDDENLY - one of the women points to an apparent business man and out of nowhere, airport police swarm from the rafters and take down the guy, opening his luggage and revealing a hidden stash of drugs! These are the new drug sniffing police pregnant women!
You see, pregnant women start getting forgetful, our backs hurt, we don't fit into our pretty clothes, and forget about out beloved high heel collection... This is a way that we can give back to society, use our new 9-months of super powers for good instead of just the increased sale of anti-nausea products. In exchange, we would only ask for simple things - perhaps a massage chair, regular foot rubs and pedicures, endless supplies of preventative stretch mark creams, membership to a Haagen Dazs of the month club, the occasional plane ticket somewhere relaxing with a spa, and of course, some new fabulous maternity clothes that don't make us feel like a whale!
All in all, it's a win-win - think of all the money you'd save on training those drug sniffing doggies and just looking on my Facebook, there seems to be no shortage of preggers.
So I'm waiting... when do I get my first pint of ice cream and trip to Hawaii?
I know that personally, the super smell has it's benefits and it's problems - I cannot stand the smell of meat cooking, cheap cologne, and don't even get me started on pot smoke... which brings me to my new theory...
Picture this - you go to the airport, and there's no drug sniffing dogs around... but there's a dozen pregnant women, walking around, looking like they're about to jet off somewhere fabulous... SUDDENLY - one of the women points to an apparent business man and out of nowhere, airport police swarm from the rafters and take down the guy, opening his luggage and revealing a hidden stash of drugs! These are the new drug sniffing police pregnant women!
You see, pregnant women start getting forgetful, our backs hurt, we don't fit into our pretty clothes, and forget about out beloved high heel collection... This is a way that we can give back to society, use our new 9-months of super powers for good instead of just the increased sale of anti-nausea products. In exchange, we would only ask for simple things - perhaps a massage chair, regular foot rubs and pedicures, endless supplies of preventative stretch mark creams, membership to a Haagen Dazs of the month club, the occasional plane ticket somewhere relaxing with a spa, and of course, some new fabulous maternity clothes that don't make us feel like a whale!
All in all, it's a win-win - think of all the money you'd save on training those drug sniffing doggies and just looking on my Facebook, there seems to be no shortage of preggers.
So I'm waiting... when do I get my first pint of ice cream and trip to Hawaii?
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Pregnant = no line?!
The other night, off I go to see Bridesmaids with my friend Carly, sporting the FANTASTIC maternity jeans she gave me. We laughed, we got grossed out (no more Brazilian BBQ for me!), and we ate a stupid amount of popcorn. All in all, a great night. After the movie, being women, of course we had to pee.
No big surprise, but we hit the loo and there was a lineup - whether it's a movie, a sporting event, or even the weekend at the mall, being a women and as such, not being able to just "whip it out and get'er done," we have been brought up with a healthy respect for the bathroom lineup.
Back to the movie theater... there we are, waiting to rid ourselves of our movie beverages. Getting closer... getting closer... I'm the first one in line! A stall opens up, I take 2 steps towards it, and... a girl pushes past me from out of nowhere and steals my stall! OH THE HUMANITY!! Of course, me being me, I can't just take it from this stall stealing floozy! I very loudly say EXCUSE ME! To which I get from somewhere in the vicinity of the back of the line, a motherly looking woman "inform" me, "Well excuse me, but she's pregnant!" with a smug look of self satisfaction on her face.
Ah, sometimes, the universe just lines up and delivers you the perfect opportunities... I promptly turn around, lift up my t-shirt, exposing the wide, elastic beige fabric waist of my beloved maternity jeans, point to my distended tummy and snapped right back with, "Well, So. Am. I!"
The other women in line got a kick out of this one, as any woman who has patiently waited in line to only have some "bud"... there were sniggers and smirks, and the mother of the budder mumbled a insincere apology while promptly looking down at the floor.
A stall opens up and in I go... Is it wrong that it felt so good to put her in her place? Maybe... I know it wasn't a very "Madonna with child" moment in my life, but having been nauseous and tired all the time, for some reason this gave me energy and made me wanna take on the world!
I shall take my new "Preggo still means lineups" message to the world! To the registry office, fast food restaurants, Victoria's Secret dressing room, airport check-ins... Anywhere that people wait patiently, only to have someone feel that due to human nature and ginormous belly, they don't have to ask permission but rather shall push their way to the front of any given queue!
YA! 16 weeks pregnant and I'm already gonna take on the system... Hmm, I'm home and I'm sleepy again... TYLER... I'm already lying down and baby is thirsty - will you get me some water? Don't forget some lemon! Mmmmmmm... ya, take on the world... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
No big surprise, but we hit the loo and there was a lineup - whether it's a movie, a sporting event, or even the weekend at the mall, being a women and as such, not being able to just "whip it out and get'er done," we have been brought up with a healthy respect for the bathroom lineup.
Back to the movie theater... there we are, waiting to rid ourselves of our movie beverages. Getting closer... getting closer... I'm the first one in line! A stall opens up, I take 2 steps towards it, and... a girl pushes past me from out of nowhere and steals my stall! OH THE HUMANITY!! Of course, me being me, I can't just take it from this stall stealing floozy! I very loudly say EXCUSE ME! To which I get from somewhere in the vicinity of the back of the line, a motherly looking woman "inform" me, "Well excuse me, but she's pregnant!" with a smug look of self satisfaction on her face.
Ah, sometimes, the universe just lines up and delivers you the perfect opportunities... I promptly turn around, lift up my t-shirt, exposing the wide, elastic beige fabric waist of my beloved maternity jeans, point to my distended tummy and snapped right back with, "Well, So. Am. I!"
The other women in line got a kick out of this one, as any woman who has patiently waited in line to only have some "bud"... there were sniggers and smirks, and the mother of the budder mumbled a insincere apology while promptly looking down at the floor.
A stall opens up and in I go... Is it wrong that it felt so good to put her in her place? Maybe... I know it wasn't a very "Madonna with child" moment in my life, but having been nauseous and tired all the time, for some reason this gave me energy and made me wanna take on the world!
I shall take my new "Preggo still means lineups" message to the world! To the registry office, fast food restaurants, Victoria's Secret dressing room, airport check-ins... Anywhere that people wait patiently, only to have someone feel that due to human nature and ginormous belly, they don't have to ask permission but rather shall push their way to the front of any given queue!
YA! 16 weeks pregnant and I'm already gonna take on the system... Hmm, I'm home and I'm sleepy again... TYLER... I'm already lying down and baby is thirsty - will you get me some water? Don't forget some lemon! Mmmmmmm... ya, take on the world... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Friday, 3 June 2011
Practice Puppy Parent
So sitting on the computer after work and my boyfriend comes running upstairs - our neighbour has to go out of town on an emergency for work and can we look after Spike for a few days? We LOVE Spike. He's a 9 year old Shitzu who has one trick in his arsenal - he does the "ewok" - which is him up on his back legs begging for food. Hey, it works for him and I can respect that - when you got something that works, why change it?!
Anyways, Off to get Spikey and bring him back to our apartment... yes, technically we live in a "no pets" building but it's only for a couple nights, Spike doesn't bark at all, and my theory is that if my landlords can't fix a drawer after 3 months or our toilet after 6 months, a little puppy love isn't going to hurt. Uh-oh. Twisting the rules to my advantage - bad parenting habit #1.
Drop off Spike's stuff and I figure we'll get him nice and tired out on a walk. Grab some poopy bags and out the door. Things are going good, we've walked a grand total of about a block and for some unbeknownst reason, he digs in his paws in the classic I-don't-wanna-go-there puppy gesture. Try to channel the Dog Whisperer. Be a pack leader. Try to make that sound the Dog Whisperer makes - sound like a sick bird. Spike tilts his head and looks at me like "Really? You think I'll feel sorry for a sick bird and come where you want me to? Nice try sucker." That's it - this is a 8 pound Shitzu. Scoop him up and carry him across the street. Bad parenting habit #2 - when he doesn't do what I want, I just force him to my will. Whoops.
We come to a pretty lilac bush and he starts sniffing around - does the dog like lilacs? Nope he's got the determined air of a canine that needs to go. Sure enough, next thing he cops a squat and out it comes. Being a good surrogate puppy parent, I whip out my plastic baggie and scoop it up. YUCKY - my extreme sensitivity to smells is still in high gear and the smell of puppy poop has me gagging in the bush. Bad parenting habit #3 - gonna have to change diapers and if I'm gagging all the time, it's really gonna suck.
Spike keeps walking around the bush, the he looks right up at me and cops another squat and... another dump! AHHHHHHHH! Pull out my other plastic baggie and swearing under my breath - I just picked up after you 10 seconds ago! You couldn't have done it in one go? Bad parenting habit #4 - he can't help having to go again 10 seconds later - get used to it with babies and changing a diaper 20 times a day.
We manage to continue the walk and when we get home, I figure the pup deserves some dinner. I microwave up some lasagna for me and put some doggie food in his dish. He looks at me and my lasagna and looks at his dry food. Ewok. I mix a little of the meat sauce from my lasagna into his food, along with some stew from the fridge. Down goes his plate of food in no time. Bad parenting habits #5 and #6 - I totally fell for the super cute act and I bribed him to eat his food.
We're done with supper, sit down to watch some TV - he comes to cuddle me, but it's mostly me coming to him to cuddle - I guess that's something else I'll just have to get used to.
Then Tyler gets home - Spike is excited beyond belief running around and as Ty lays down on the futon, Spike jumps up and curls in a little ball right up to him. So that's how it's gonna be, eh? I'll walk you, feed and water you, and clean up after you but at the end of the day, it's all about the daddy.
Nuts. At least I still have 5 1/2 months to figure this stuff out - now off to walk the dog again.
Monday, 30 May 2011
The nuchal made me wanna puke-al
Ah the nuchal ultrasound - a little peace of mind for us "at-risk" mommies-to-be. Shan, you say, what do you mean you, at-risk? Well you see, apparently in the world of baby having, over 35 = bad. All pregnancy books list things to do and not to do and mention often, "unless you are over 35" - it seems I'm the pregnancy equivalent of drinking from a carton of milk past the expiry date (don't pretend like you never have - a quick sniff and down the hatch).
So being "OLD" for baby rearing means they have to check for genetic abnormalities just in case one of my old eggs got fertilized and is now doing all sorts of nasty genetic stuff, like spina bifida and Down's Syndrome.
To be able to see the baby pretty good, you have to drink a couple glasses of water an hour before your ultrasound. Well dammit, I had to chug-a-lug my whole bottle of water at my physical so I could pee in a cup! Off to Mac's to buy some more water. Hmm... doctors appointment is done by just after 9 and my ultrasound isn't scheduled until 10:45. I'll just go early, maybe they can squish me in. Crap, I better chug-a-lug this water too because already emptied my bladder for the "cup".
Drive off to the ultrasound place, and mention to the nice receptionist, that yes, I know I'm here at 9:30 and my appointment isn't for over an hour. Is there any way of me getting in early? She goes and talks to the technician and comes back and tells me, make sure you're back here by 10, sit over there, and you should be in early. Thank God I brought a book.
Ten am and I'm sitting in my designated spot. Crack open book. Damn this is a good book. Try to get into book and ignore the growing discomfort in my bladder region. Must have full bladder so baby can't hide from the tech.
Suddenly a girl comes over and asks if I'm pregnant and under 20 weeks. I say yes and she launches into this big sales pitch of a speech, basically trying to get me to be a part of some study she's doing at the university. I hear blah blah blah, as she's distracting me from distracting myself from my full bladder. I nod in what I think are the right spots, take the pamphlet and back to my book. Maybe I better check the time. Interesting, it's 10:20. Can't pee, must hold it. Must be going in any minute now.
Read more book. Shift uncomfortably in my seat. Should've worn a Poise pad in case of leakage. Look at time - 10:45. Hmmm... This is starting to hurt a little. Read more book - concentrate REALLY hard... look at time - 11:05.
Okay that's it. Get up and walk painfully and very gently over to the receptionist. Another one of those look-I'm-smiling-sweetly-but-secretly-I-want-scream looks and say, hey remember me? You said I could get in early at 10? It's now 11:20 and my actual appointment was at 10:45? My bladder is so full I could use it as a flotation device.
She goes to the back, tells me to wait and then the ultrasound tech comes out and finally calls my name. Into the little room and EEEEP cold gel. She starts to push on my tummy and I'm closing my eyes, trying to think of mind over matter, as if I'm in the Kung Fu Panda movie or something like that. Then she informs me, the bladder's too full. Hands me another cup, and tells me to pee out 3 of those cups and then I'll be good.
Dammit once you start... do my damnedest, I think I got closer to 4 but back in the room and now it's all good - more EEEP cold gel, and pushing on my tummy.
She starts pounding the ultrasound mallet thing into my gut - WTF?!? After about the 8th jab, I say is something wrong? Oh the baby is facing the wrong way. Trying to get it to turn around. Uh, anything I can do? 4 or 5 more jabs, and the tech tells me to cough and there we go - baby flips. Could've told you that one - you try to force my baby to do something and she/he's gonna fight you. Get the measurements and finally to the bathroom... nice.
All the test results come back, and get called into a room with a nurse. This seems ominous. Get told the chances of having a baby with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 155 because I'm old. WHAT?! With those odds, I would buy a lottery ticket! Then she looks at my results and says, oh, but you're good - chance of 1 in 4000 and something.
Oh lady, you are so lucky that I am so relieved to have finally peed again or I would've had to hurt you.
So being "OLD" for baby rearing means they have to check for genetic abnormalities just in case one of my old eggs got fertilized and is now doing all sorts of nasty genetic stuff, like spina bifida and Down's Syndrome.
To be able to see the baby pretty good, you have to drink a couple glasses of water an hour before your ultrasound. Well dammit, I had to chug-a-lug my whole bottle of water at my physical so I could pee in a cup! Off to Mac's to buy some more water. Hmm... doctors appointment is done by just after 9 and my ultrasound isn't scheduled until 10:45. I'll just go early, maybe they can squish me in. Crap, I better chug-a-lug this water too because already emptied my bladder for the "cup".
Drive off to the ultrasound place, and mention to the nice receptionist, that yes, I know I'm here at 9:30 and my appointment isn't for over an hour. Is there any way of me getting in early? She goes and talks to the technician and comes back and tells me, make sure you're back here by 10, sit over there, and you should be in early. Thank God I brought a book.
Ten am and I'm sitting in my designated spot. Crack open book. Damn this is a good book. Try to get into book and ignore the growing discomfort in my bladder region. Must have full bladder so baby can't hide from the tech.
Suddenly a girl comes over and asks if I'm pregnant and under 20 weeks. I say yes and she launches into this big sales pitch of a speech, basically trying to get me to be a part of some study she's doing at the university. I hear blah blah blah, as she's distracting me from distracting myself from my full bladder. I nod in what I think are the right spots, take the pamphlet and back to my book. Maybe I better check the time. Interesting, it's 10:20. Can't pee, must hold it. Must be going in any minute now.
Read more book. Shift uncomfortably in my seat. Should've worn a Poise pad in case of leakage. Look at time - 10:45. Hmmm... This is starting to hurt a little. Read more book - concentrate REALLY hard... look at time - 11:05.
Okay that's it. Get up and walk painfully and very gently over to the receptionist. Another one of those look-I'm-smiling-sweetly-but-secretly-I-want-scream looks and say, hey remember me? You said I could get in early at 10? It's now 11:20 and my actual appointment was at 10:45? My bladder is so full I could use it as a flotation device.
She goes to the back, tells me to wait and then the ultrasound tech comes out and finally calls my name. Into the little room and EEEEP cold gel. She starts to push on my tummy and I'm closing my eyes, trying to think of mind over matter, as if I'm in the Kung Fu Panda movie or something like that. Then she informs me, the bladder's too full. Hands me another cup, and tells me to pee out 3 of those cups and then I'll be good.
Dammit once you start... do my damnedest, I think I got closer to 4 but back in the room and now it's all good - more EEEP cold gel, and pushing on my tummy.
She starts pounding the ultrasound mallet thing into my gut - WTF?!? After about the 8th jab, I say is something wrong? Oh the baby is facing the wrong way. Trying to get it to turn around. Uh, anything I can do? 4 or 5 more jabs, and the tech tells me to cough and there we go - baby flips. Could've told you that one - you try to force my baby to do something and she/he's gonna fight you. Get the measurements and finally to the bathroom... nice.
All the test results come back, and get called into a room with a nurse. This seems ominous. Get told the chances of having a baby with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 155 because I'm old. WHAT?! With those odds, I would buy a lottery ticket! Then she looks at my results and says, oh, but you're good - chance of 1 in 4000 and something.
Oh lady, you are so lucky that I am so relieved to have finally peed again or I would've had to hurt you.
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