Shots, grasshoppers and wrong turns!

Someone pointed out to me that STRESSED backwards spells desserts. Hmm. Maybe that's why I'm craving ice cream. I have been really stressed out lately! I know that I should relax. I do plan to start doing yoga again soon. Maybe that will help. I need to find my "Zen" again. I wish I didn't let things get to me. I wish I was one of those people so laid back about everything. Just go with the flow. Take it as it comes. I'm a little high strung (it's hereditary.) I can only relax when everything is perfect and everything goes right. Now how often does that actually happen?!

Car trips are often stressful with the baby. I never know if she's going to scream or for how long. I worry about the position of the sun (because even with the screens covering the back windows, sometimes there is full sun on her face and it drives me crazy! I wind up dislocating my shoulder reaching to the backseat to hold up a piece of paper to shade her little face. Have to be especially careful with my sensitive little red haired girl.) I worry if she's going to poo (because she goes so often and as I've learned the hard way a few times now, trying to change her in the car is beyond awkward. It's just short of impossible. And God help you if you don't change her because she will scream bloody murder the entire way until your ears are bleeding and your head explodes. If you happen to be on the highway and can't pull over, you're S.O.L.) or cry for some other reason. I worry that she'll wail the whole time or wait for a really embarassing moment like when I'm at the drive-thru window. Every time I put the keys in the ignition I cross my fingers and hope I get lucky.

It was my brother's birthday celebration, so I set out in the car with Michelle, hoping for the best. At least now I have my trusty soother to help out during the trip. (I have gone from being opposed to the pacifier to absolutely loving it! It really helps to calm Michelle down, keeps her from crying, actually seems to help her fall asleep and so is my magic talisman when we're out and about.) The only problem is that of course it doesn't always stay in her mouth and she cries when it drops. So I pulled over three times during the trip to give it back to her. Then there's the sunlight. For some reason on this particular drive, the sun was on her face no matter which way we went, even when the road curved. It seemed to be coming from all directions. I was afraid she'd get a sunburn. I guess I don't have to worry that she only swallows about half the vitamin D drops when I try to give them to her. She's getting vitamin D whenever we take a drive thanks to the useless screens I got for the windows. I guess I need to install full curtains or black out the windows or something.

At least we made it there for the birthday party but being at my Mom's is stressful in itself. My mother's house is a little crowded to say the least, never mind when there are nearly 20 people there. She had cleared out the family room to make some space but my nephew James and one of my brother's friend's kids were playing with toy cars and had taken up the entire floor. I needed to feed Michelle and my Mom didn't have a private room I could go to. So to get to the couch I had to carefully tiptoe like a Mommy Godzilla through a little village filled with hundreds of toy cars, trying not to slip and drop the baby.

I don't feel comfortable breastfeeding in public. I don't mind as much if I'm just around women but I just can't do it in front of boys. Family or not. I had pumped breastmilk in a bottle but it wasn't enough to do all day so I had to breastfeed her at least once while I was there. My Mom said "Save the bottle for when we're having dinner so I can feed her while you're eating." I put a big scarf over Michelle and I (and it was a hundred degrees under the thing!) for privacy and tried to feed Michelle. It was very uncomfortable. At home I have my nursing pillow when I'm sitting up or I feed her lying down in bed. Trying to feed her on the couch with no pillow and trying to stay hidden from two little boys playing with cars by my feet was not easy. I knew that James was aware of breastfeeding (he had precociously made the comment while I was pregnant that a baby was going to be a lot of work and that I'd have to feed her from my boobs!) but I really didn't want to expose myself to him. Using the nipple shield (which I continue to use and couldn't live without! The first week trying to feed her with my bare nipples left me bleeding and bruised! I'm never going back to that!) makes it that much more awkward especially when you're trying to stay hidden. Michelle and I both wound up soaked. (When she's not on a proper pillow she's a sloppy eater and the milk tends to drip down the two of us.)

Michelle is sometimes fussy, sometimes good. And you never know how it's going to go. Usually the soother will placate her at least but it doesn't always work. She was probably cranky because she didn't get to have much of a nap. She closed her eyes for a few minutes here and there but wouldn't stay asleep. Even if there were room for her to lie down, the TV blasting (we couldn't find the remote to turn down the volume) and the boys playing in the room probably would have disturbed her. At least my sister in law took her for a while which gave my arms a break. Barb was excited to hold her. "She's so small! You forget how small they were!" Barb's youngest is a toddler. She isn't planning to have any more. Holding Michelle almost made her want another. Hearing Michelle cry almost non-stop probably nipped that in the bud.

I had the bottle of breast milk to give Michelle at dinner which she consumed in seconds (120 ml should be plenty. I can't believe how much she can drink/eat!) and then proceeded to cry while I tried to scarf down my dinner. My brother in law joked "This would be a good commercial for Advil!" It's funny because I remember so many get-togethers in the past where my siblings' kids were crying, screaming. Arguing over toys. Crying because they fell. Sometimes it could get pretty loud, especially with a couple of them going at once. I never suspected that one day it would be MY baby who would be crying. Having a child seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Now it's my reality.

My brother in law asked if maybe she was hungry or needed to be changed. "No," I explained, "She's just been fed, burped and changed. She's just a redhead! Mom says I was a nightmare too."
Even little James asked "What's wrong with the baby?"
"She's a baby!" I answered. Babies cry. It's their only form of communication. (Well other than the occasional coo or goo and a little laugh.)

The sound of the baby crying, along with all the other noise and commotion of the family was a bit overwhelming. I wondered what Christmas would be like when an even bigger gang (all of us) will be there. Of course by then Michelle will be 5 months old and hopefully much better behaved. She may even be talking. (I can dream. She has said "Hi" more than ten times now which to me makes it more than a fluke or accident. So who knows? A few times when she was crying it sounded like she said "Mama" even when she was first born. OK that probably was just a fluke...)

Get-togethers with the family are a little different with the baby. Everyone was hanging out in the backyard. Usually I would have been out there with them. We went out briefly but then I had to go in to feed Michelle and after feeding her we were both damp with milk and it was too cold to go out. So I barely had a visit with anyone other than the boys and their cars in the family room. Then even when everyone came in I missed my brother opening his gifts because I had to change Michelle who was screaming (again). I tried to get a group photo of us but there really isn't anywhere to set up the camera at my Mom's. My camera has a self-timer so I'm usually able to get all of us in a shot. Unfortunately on this occasion I couldn't fit everyone in and the baby was crying. It was one of the worst pictures ever. At least Michelle settled down for a few minutes and we were able to get a couple of photos.

By the end of the day I was physically and emotionally exhausted and anxious to get home. Little did I know what lay in store for me...

The baby was screaming. She wouldn't even keep the soother in her mouth a second so I thought something is definitely wrong. I was on empty anyway (of course) so when I stopped to fill up at the gas station, I took her out of her seat to change her diaper (as nightmarish as it is to do so in the backseat of the car.) Sure enough she'd had another HUGE poo (why she couldn't have done this five minutes earlier before we left my Mom's, I don't know. Timing is everything! She usually has at least three really big poos a day but you never know exactly when they'll happen.) So at least she was changed and happy. Unfortunately it seems that while I had the car door open, we picked up a hitchhiker...

I was driving along when I suddenly saw a grasshopper spreadeagle, legs splayed across the windshield. Inside the car! Normally I'm not afraid of grasshoppers but I'm not a big fan of insects flying at my face when I'm trying to drive. I have had insects -- spiders, wasps, mosquitos -- in the car before, long before I had the baby and it was never pretty. It usually involved me screaming and swerving and nearly crashing to my death. I'm a little more cautious now with the baby and knew I'd have to try to restrain my natural instinct to scream and flail like a madwoman, possibly killing us both. I didn't know if the grasshopper might jump or fly or fall on me but he kept slowly inching up the windshield until he was at my eye level. I can't describe how hard it is to keep your eyes on the road when you're whiteknuckled staring at a grasshopper praying that he doesn't jump at your eye. I had to get him out. I just didn't know how. I didn't want to squish him. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it. Then I remembered my friend had given me this handy little diaper bag dispenser for my purse. I could catch him in a bag and let him outside. I finally went for it. It was terrifying but I managed to catch him in the bag and let him out the window. Logically he probably died anyway. If the impact didn't kill him, then a passing car would but in the scheme of things I figured the lives of my baby and I were slightly more important! One disaster had been averted but there was still another in store for me...

The route that I used to take home hasn't been possible for months thanks to an annoying road closure due to a never-ending construction mess (on the main road that I took 50% of the way) so I had an alternate route. Then to my horror as I was heading home I saw that the infuriating construction disease had spread even to my alternate route. It was closed. Great. It was pitch dark out. My night vision isn't great to start with. I thought I had figured out another way home. Turns out the road that I thought I was on was something else entirely. Before I knew it, I was lost. Really lost. Nothing was familiar. I was in the middle of nowhere. There were no lights. I turned from one street to another hoping something would take me somewhere. I didn't even know what direction I was going. North, south, east, west? I hadn't a clue. For all I knew I was going in the opposite direction to where I should be heading. Everything was "Sideroad" this and that. You know you're in the country when they don't even call it a road or a street, just a sideroad. Sure enough, now I was on a dirt road! It wasn't even PAVED. Thankfully Michelle was still asleep through all this but I started to panic. "OMG. She's going to wake up and be starving because I should have been home with her an hour ago to feed her. I don't even know where we are! How will we ever get home?!" I started to pray "Please God help me get home! Soon!"

Now most people have modern gadgets like cellphones and GPS. I don't. I refused to get a cellphone. Yes I think I'm the last person left in North America over the age of 10 that doesn't have one! There are times I wish I had one for an emergency but with money tighter than ever as a single Mom it's not really in the budget. Anyway, so I had nothing to help me find my way and no way of calling for help. I started looking for any lights or signs of life but it was just blackest pitch as far as the eye could see. I was getting more and more nervous. I didn't know what to do.

Finally I saw a house with a light on. Part of me worried that this was just too much like those horror movie scenes where some poor unsuspecting schlep is lost in the middle of nowhere and stops somewhere to ask for directions (or runs out of gas -- at least I had gas) and happens upon a family of inbred cannibals. I was hoping that wouldn't happen! I nervously approached the wooden door and a man came to greet me before I knocked. Thank Heaven he was NICE (and not a murderer/cannibal!)

"I'm so sorry to bother you," I said "but I'm really lost and I have a 2 month old baby in the car..."
He kindly gave me directions and even drew me a map. I was so relieved and grateful. I should have asked him how long I was going to be on each of the roads though because it took so long for me to find the main road that I started to worry I'd passed it. I didn't know how much longer to keep driving. When I finally got to a sign and to signs of civilization I was so happy I wanted to scream "Woo hoo!" but was trying to stay quiet for Michelle who was miraculously still asleep. She didn't wake up until we were nearly home and she started to scream. Poor girl was starving by now. Of course (because we hadn't been through enough already) I got stuck behind some idiot on the one lane road going as slow as molasses. I kept trying to comfort Michelle "It's OK baby. We're almost home! We'd be home by now if it wasn't for this IDIOT in our way!" Of course I was an idiot too. I'd gotten us lost in the first place.

I was ecstatic when we finally made it home. I was like Dorothy in her ruby slippers saying "There's no place like home!" Michelle fed voraciously. It felt so good to be home safe and sound that I swore I wasn't going to leave the house the next day and we didn't. We had a nice peaceful day in our pjs and Michelle was quite mellow and content (probably exhausted from the day before.)

There was still something else coming up to stress about -- I had to take Michelle for her 8 week shots. Needles had always caused me anxiety. The idea of my innocent little baby having to go through it was far worse than if it were happening to me. To make matters worse I'd even read about immunizations in "What to Expect in the First Year." Now don't get me wrong. It's a great book. I like that it's so thorough that it warns you about absolutely everything that could possibly happen. The problem with this (much like "What to Expect When You're Expecting" some sections of which gave me nightmares) is that if you're a worrier and you read about all these negative, horrific things that "might" possibly happen, it's a recipe for anxiety. So when I read that the shots could cause a rash, fever, hours of screaming and in very rare cases, even DEATH I was petrified. Of course the book said that the benefits far outweighed the risks. I hoped Michelle would be OK. I was worried enough about her crying at the needle never mind her having a bad and possibly fatal reaction! After cutting her thumb accidentally when I did her nails I wondered if she'd keep bleeding after the needle.

My Mom came with me for moral support. First they gave Michelle a Rotavirus vaccine which consisted of drops (if drops are an option why use needles at all?!) Then they gave her two needles, one in each thigh, one for Diptheria, Tetanus, Polio, Pertussis and HiB. The other for "Prevnar 13." I'm not very familiar with any of the infections/illnesses. I guess because we've been immunized against them for so long they're not really around anymore. Michelle cried and it was a heartbreaking cry of shock and pain. I comforted her. I had tears in my eyes myself. Poor little thing must have wondered what the heck was going on. At least she didn't bleed much. They didn't even put bandages on her. We stuck around for a bit to see if there was any allergic reaction (rash or anything) but she seemed fine. She calmed down eventually. The doctor gave me some infant tylenol just in case but she didn't need it. She wasn't any fussier than normal and you could barely see the tiny dots where the shots had been. I had worried for nothing. I was so relieved. Unfortunately we have to go through this over and over again. Apparently she has to get more needles at 4 months, 6, 12, 15 and 18 months. Then at 4 years, 12 years, 13 years and 14 years. Gheesh. I don't remember getting so many shots as a kid. I thought it was just one booster shot once in your life and you're done.

Even when I don't have anything immediate to worry about, my Mom will call up and try to give me something new to stress over. The latest was her phoning to warn me that there is arsenic in rice. She heard it on the news so it must be true. There's never anything happy on the news so I avoid watching it but I get to hear tidbits from my mother. I'm never sure if she got the story quite right. (Like when she told me that eating eggs is as bad as smoking cigarettes. Not quite right. Apparently eggs -- cholesterol anyway -- and cigarettes can both contribute to heart disease but I'd prefer the eggs.) Some foods I might be willing to give up (broccoli for instance) but I love rice. I eat it almost every day. I was pretty sure that if all rice was poisonous they might make more of an effort to warn people about it, like drawing a big skull and crossbones on the front of the bag or something. Then again it took them a while to let people know that cigarettes would kill them and even that doesn't stop the smokers out there. I don't know much about arsenic. I remember hearing about a play called "Arsenic and Old Lace" about a couple of psychotic old ladies poisoning people. Anyway, I Googled the rice arsenic thing just to see what Mom was on about. It turns out that there is actually arsenic in air, water and soil. Consequently it ends up in many foods, not just rice. Organic arsenic isn't so bad. But there is also inorganic arsenic (in the form of pesticides and insecticides which wind up on fruits and vegetables.) So while the focus was on rice recently for some reason, apparently there is arsenic in apple juice too (which is fine because I HATE apple juice! My Mom turned me against it because she used to always put it in my thermos and made it smell like apple juice. Even when she started giving me milk in the thermos it still tasted like apple juice. Awful.) Anyway, I'm a big fan of rice, especially Uncle Ben's Express Basmati Rice -- my fave. From what I read online there are only trace amounts, not enough to kill you, so I don't think I'll change my diet too much. The weird thing is that I read the FDA really doesn't have any standards for levels of arsenic. So technically all our food could be poisoned with toxic levels of arsenic and they wouldn't have a problem with it? I don't get it. I'm going to try not to worry about it. Apparently everything is bad for you in some way, even things that are good for you. You can't stop eating everything. Fish is brain food but might have mercury in it. Fruits and vegetables are healthy but might be poisoned with insecticides. My Mom said that when I start giving the baby food, not to give her rice cereal, just in case. I rolled my eyes. I won't give her apple juice either.

My Mother was always a worrier and she's passed a lot of her worrying tendencies on to me. As much as I swore I would never become my mother, sometimes I catch myself doing it. I don't want to turn Michelle into a nervous wreck so I do want to try to relax. I don't want her to think the world is a scary place (even though sometimes it is.) Overall it is a beautiful place, full of magic and wonder. The good things are what we need to focus on. And sometimes it's just your perspective. I remember one boyfriend that I dated could put a positive spin on anything. Even when he got lost while driving he would smile and say "It's an adventure!" He would have loved the grasshopper thing. Maybe I need to work on my sense of whimsy. You can't wait for life to be perfect. You just have to smile at the imperfections. Attitude is everything.

I can't believe Michelle is two months old already. The doctor said she looks very healthy and she weighs 11 lbs 6 ounces now. I figured she had to be over 11 pounds by now (judging by how much it hurts my wrists, arms and back carrying her!) Time is flying by. I am so grateful that she is in my life. Even when it's stressful. Even when she's difficult. The moments when she's happy, when she smiles or coos at me make it all worthwhile.

I just need to lighten up. I need to learn to laugh at life's (and my) foibles. The key to overcoming stress is keeping your sense of humour. I usually find mine after the fact. I can laugh about it later when I recall these things. It's just finding my humour in the moment that proves difficult. I have to remember that nothing is that serious. Nothing is the end of the world. Almost everything becomes an amusing anecdote eventually. As Charlie Chaplin said "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up but a comedy in long-shot."

Worrying, waddling, weeping...The worst trimester!

They say there's no point crying over spilled milk but that didn't stop me. I'd been having a bad day as it was and knocking over the quart of milk was kind of the last straw. I've been so clumsy with my big belly and my ballooned up swollen feet I've been bumping into things, knocking things over, dropping things. I feel so weak and exhausted, bloated and achy and the heat only makes it worse. I've been so fragile that every little thing can set me off. Not to mention how difficult it is and how much it hurts to bend down to clean up spilled milk now. So yeah I cried.

Now I know a lot of it is hormonal. I have read that it's normal, which is somewhat comforting. But when you're in the midst of a pity party (and man, I can throw some doozies!) you just feel like you're the only one in the world going through this and you feel like you're a bad Mommy because you're crying and the baby can hear you and your body is convulsing and it's going to upset the baby. She'll think there's an earthquake or something. But then you read and research and talk to supportive friends and family who tell you -- oh hell no -- they cried every day for months and baby was just fine. I do speak some soothing words of comfort after a crying spell though "It's OK baby. Mommy's OK. I love you." and sing "Three Little Birds" -- trying to convince myself as well as the baby not to worry about a thing "'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."

As my due date approaches I'm finding the third trimester is a bit of a flashback to the first (extreme fatigue, stress and tears) only worse because now it's summer instead of winter and I'm three times the size! At least I don't have the nausea but everything else is overwhelming. When I'm sleep-deprived (and considering I wake up every hour to use the washroom, a solid night's rest is a thing of the past) everything feels that much worse. Some days it feels like I'm falling apart.

I got spoiled during the second trimester. For the most part, I felt great. I had energy. I was enthusiastic. I was happier than I'd ever been. I felt excited and blessed and strong. While I had heard that the third trimester was difficult, I couldn't have imagined the Hell that awaited me.

Yeah, it just sucks.

I knew that I would be at my biggest. And I really do feel like a planet. I had joked about being a beach ball before but my stomach literally has expanded to beach ball proportions. My belly button has popped out and even seems to have a dark circle around it like a black eye. While I had been slathering on cream to prevent stretch marks, I still wound up with stretch marks at the bottom of my belly. I found a new stretch mark cream that has cocoa butter, shea butter, vitamin E, collagen and elastin in it. Unfortunately while it purports to "reduce the appearance of stretch marks" it also smells like chocolate. So ironically my belly may expand even further since I'm craving sweets all the more, walking around with a big old belly that smells like chocolate chip cookies!

It is hard to move around with this belly. I can no longer see my feet. Bending is painful. Cleaning the house is an exercise in torture. But I felt guilted into giving things a good cleaning (Thanks Mom! "Everything has to be clean for the baby!" she screeched. Though as far as I can tell, it will be a while before my baby is at the crawling stage so I don't know why the floor had to be spotless at this point!) I was waiting for that "nesting" instinct to kick in when you're supposed to get a burst of energy and be inspired to clean like never before. Unless some miracle happens in the next couple of weeks, I can't imagine feeling energetic and wanting to clean. My burst of energy came in the second trimester when I wanted to get things ready for the nursery. My enthusiasm for cleaning sinks and toilets never did show up. Let's face it. Baby won't be using those for a LONG TIME. As it was I had zero energy or enthusiasm but I grudgingly cleaned the bathrooms, kitchen, vacuumed and washed the floors. It nearly killed me. Between my weight gain, swollen feet and legs and the heat of summer (with no air conditioning) I'm not sure how I survived it. But I was relieved once it was done. From now on, I'm going to try to just ignore my mother. When I feel bad I really don't need her calling to make me feel worse. I have call display for a reason! Yes I love you Mom but sometimes you DRIVE ME CRAZY!!!

The swollen foot thing had started months ago, in my second trimester, but mainly in my left foot and it was nothing compared to this. Now both legs and feet are completely ballooned up. I am the Michelin man. White for the most part except that my feet are red and if I walk around too long they turn purple and sometimes even black.

I never really paid attention to peoples' ankles or feet before. But now with my big balloons I find myself looking rather wistfully at people with cute little feet and actual ankle bones.

I was sitting on the bench at Walmart, waiting for my Mom and found myself looking at everyone's feet as they went by. I finally saw someone who had cankles almost as bad as mine. They were about 400 pounds. I started to feel bad for anyone who is extremely overweight and to realize how difficult it must be for them to move around. It's hard to breathe. It's hard to walk. You waddle, partly because of the weight you're carrying and partly because of your feet being so swollen. Everything is more difficult. And it would be a vicious cycle because you wouldn't have the energy to exercise so it would be even harder to lose the weight. Any bit of exertion knocks you out. At least for me this is a temporary condition and I'm hoping that I'll lose the weight I've gained after having the baby.

I miss my old legs and feet. My old tummy. I had worked so hard to get in shape and then only got to stay that way for less than a year. I'm hoping that as soon as I have the baby the water weight and blood pooling in my legs will go away instantly. And I'm hoping that between giving birth, breastfeeding (which burns a lot of calories and helps return your uterus to its normal size sooner) and working out again that I'm able to get back to the shape that I was in last year (the best shape of my adult life after eating right and exercising to reach my goal weight. I didn't realize that I was inadvertently getting my body primed to conceive a baby!)

Then there are the bathroom blues...Even before I was pregnant, I had a small bladder and made frequent trips to the washroom. I also suffered from IBS. I spent a lot of time on the toilet. These days, with baby and her biosphere camped out on my bladder (and she hasn't even dropped yet!) I'm peeing every half hour or so. No more sleeping through the night. As far as my bowels are concerned (sorry this is going to be TMI so for the squeamish, just disregard the rest of this paragraph!) I was already accustomed to diarrhea, but the constipation has been a whole new adventure. Strangely, they seem to alternate. Sometimes it feels like I really have to go and nothing comes. Other times, it's a volcanic eruption. For bathroom issues alone it is a relief to be off work. It was embarassing when I literally had to run to the washroom. Especially since my run is more of a fast waddle. Have you ever seen a penguin running? Well it's a lot more cute when they do it! See video below. I can picture her saying "Outta my way! I gotta go!" I'm pretty sure I had my arms outstretched like that too, to keep people out of my path.

On top of the physical discomforts I've been going through, I've also had a lot of stress which has been kicked up a notch since I'm going on maternity leave. Worrying about impending labour, worrying will I be a good Mommy? Will I be able to support my baby and me? Things will be tight. The most urgent problem is that I still have to sell my car. Please if you or someone you know is in the market for a nearly new convertible (2010 Mazda MX5 silver automatic) LET ME KNOW! Here's a link to my ad on Kijiji:
http://toronto.kijiji.ca/c-cars-vehicles-cars-trucks-2010-Mazda-MX-5-Miata-GX-Convertible-W0QQAdIdZ392936566
I can't make these payments anymore. I'm not even driving the car and haven't since the Fall of 2011. I loved the car but now it's killing me. I have to sell it ASAP and I have to get what's still owing on it or there will be a lien on it. A single Mom on a tight budget, I don't know how I'm going to manage. Baby will hopefully have free milk for the first six months. Unfortunately I'm guessing if Mama can't afford to buy groceries for herself, it may hurt milk production!

I try to remain positive. Things have a way of working out for the best usually. At this point I just can't see how. I need things to be resolved, the sooner the better. I have enough to worry about without the financial strain.

I'm terrified of labour and delivery. When I complain about how difficult the third trimester is, people ask "I guess you can't wait to have the baby and get it over with already?!" But the truth is, I don't want the baby to be early. I'm not ready. I don't want the baby to be early or late. Hopefully she's right on time or thereabouts. Not only am I scared of giving birth, I'm scared to be a Mom. To bring a newborn baby home. I don't feel responsible enough, grown up enough. It's overwhelming. This was something I never imagined for myself. As much as I love the baby and am excited to meet her, I am also TERRIFIED! My life is going to change forever. There's no turning back. I'm going to have a small human to take care of and raise for the rest of my life. This is the biggest leap I've ever taken. I wanted to go skydiving. Jumping out of a plane would have been nothing compared to this. Am I ready? Will I ever feel ready?

My Mom was on my case about packing a bag for the hospital. My mother is always in panic mode. She worries about the worst case scenario. She wanted me to be ready in case of an emergency. She kept saying that she thought I was going to have the baby early. "Why are you saying that?! Stop it!" In fact, having seen my doctor, who knows a little more about obstetrics than my mother, it seems that if anything I'm likely to go later. The baby hasn't dropped yet and she said that generally it will be another 4 weeks to delivery after the baby drops. Mind you she also qualified it by saying that you can never really predict and it's silly to try. But I see the doctor every week and if she sees any signs of impending labour, she'll let me know.

I have had Braxton Hicks contractions. I'd been having them for a while but didn't really know what they were until someone explained that it's like a tightness or hardening of the uterus all of a sudden. Not really painful, just kind of weird and uncomfortable. It's something like a menstrual cramp. I can deal with those. I had horrendous menstrual cramps since I first got my period at 13 years old. Lucky me. If actual contractions are like that, I think I can handle it. I imagine that contractions will be a little more severe and will of course come more frequently at regular intervals. Perhaps the women who complain about contractions were the ones who had never suffered menstrual cramps. I'm a pro at those so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Hey, I can dream!

Anyway, where was I? (Sorry, I've got baby brain!) Oh yes, Mom was trying to convince me to have a bag packed for the hospital "just in case." It made me sick to think about it and felt like it may be tempting fate so I kept putting it off. When a friend started lobbying for me to pack my bags too I started to think OK maybe they have a point. My friend had free tickets to the movies and was taking me to see "Brave" (got to love a feisty blue-eyed, red-haired heroine who doesn't need a man to rescue her). She was going to pick me up the next day and see the nursery and check up on me that I'd actually packed the bag, so unfortunately now I actually had to do it. So I started. I was stressed to the max. What should I bring? I packed the diaper bag for the baby first. Diapers and wipes. That's easy. Changes of clothes. Onesies for newborns. But wait, what if she's bigger? Better bring some 0-3 month outfits just in case. I had been organized at least and washed all the baby's clothes in baby detergent and put them away grouped by size/age. Blankets. What if it's cold that day? What if it's hot? Bring options. I was getting increasingly stressed. Then I packed a bag for me. PJs. Nursing bra and pads. Travel size toiletries (ran out to get some. Scratch that. Waddled out to Walmart to get things I didn't have.) Clothes to come home in (what would the weather be like? What size would I be? Would I magically deflate like a balloon?) Should I bring shorts? A skirt? What will be comfy after pushing a baby out of my hoohoo? Extra underwear. Pads (Haven't needed them in a while! But I've read I'll need them afterward...) A journal to scribble down my experiences. Extra batteries for my camera. Suddenly I was just overcome. I started to cry. I was scared. I didn't want to go to the hospital. If I didn't pack the bag then maybe this wasn't real. Maybe it was all a dream. Like those TV shows where they wake up and the whole season was just a dream. Somehow packing the bags made it too real. But I did it. They were packed to the gills. (My bags always are. Even anytime I went on vacation or overnight somewhere my bags were stuffed with extras, with options, with "just in case." It's part of the control freak/worrier gene that I inherited from my mother. Thanks Mom!) At least my bags are packed now so my friend and Mom can get off my case! They do have a point because I'm sure when I go into labour I wouldn't be able to think of anything to bring. I have a hard time thinking now!

My sister not only got me an amazing stroller system for my shower gift (on top of throwing me a beautiful baby shower) but she also put it together for me (thank God because I'm not mechanically inclined at the best of times, am very uncoordinated these days and my problem-solving abilities are nil.) I just glanced at the instructions and felt like I was going to cry. It would have taken me three weeks to figure it out if left on my own with it. Who knew it would be in pieces in the box? My brother in law installed the carseat in my car. Again a huge help because I wouldn't have known where to start. Seeing the child restraint in my backseat made it all even more real for me. Of course, it had to be done. Even more important than packing the bag for the hospital. They don't let you take your baby home if you don't have the carseat installed. This was all freaking me out even more. We wanted to see what it would be like to have a baby in the seat so my niece strapped in one of her stuffed cats. It was cute but I made sure she took him back out because I thought if she forgot and anyone looked in the window and saw a stuffed cat in a babyseat in my car, they'd really think I'd lost it.

So. Hospital bag packed. Carseat installed. Baby clothes washed and put away. My brother in law is bringing the furniture this week. I've read the books. Done the research. Somehow I still don't feel ready.

My friend said it still blows her mind that I'm having a baby. She can't wrap her head around it. I asked "How do you think I feel?!" I never expected this. In a million years. I never saw me as a Mom. Even when I dated men with kids, I felt like one of the kids. I wasn't the parent, the responsible one, the grown up. Do I know how to be? Can I learn? For the past nine months, I've known this was coming, but it was far enough away that it was still sort of an abstract idea. Now I'm down to the last few weeks and the reality is hitting me head-on. Holy crap. I'm going to be a Mom. And the metamorphosis could not be more dramatic if I literally was becoming a butterfly, or a mermaid. I will be entering another world. It will be like learning to fly or breathing underwater.  It's something I've never done. Yes I had babysitting jobs as a kid. Yes I've had nieces and nephews. But nothing like this. It's my baby. And I don't even have a partner to help. It's ALL ME! The pressure!

Now don't get me wrong. I am happy and excited about the baby. I love this baby more than anything. And I am extremely grateful. As hard a time as I've been having, I do still have good days, happy moments. I do feel blessed to have had a normal, healthy pregnancy. Even the difficult things I've gone through were apparently common and right on schedule. It's been a textbook pregnancy and I do feel lucky for that. Aside from that, I know that the end result (my baby!) is more than worth it. All fears aside, I know that my baby is the love of my life and I will be thrilled to meet her. The truth is that most of the best moments of my life were also my scariest. They were the times when I took a leap. If you're not a little scared, you're probably not growing.

Humour can help you through just about anything. Humour and love. My sister is amazing. She always manages to calm me down and make me laugh. She is so nurturing, supportive and encouraging. I know that my Mom means well but she tends to be negative and a worrier and stresses me out. My sister is the voice of reason, the understanding, patient and loving angel that has pulled me out of the abyss in some of my life's darkest moments. She is the most extraordinary Mom, sister and friend that anyone could have. Knowing that she is with me through this journey is my greatest comfort. May, I couldn't get through this without you!

I am also grateful to Jenny McCarthy for making me laugh out loud. Someone had recommended her book, "Belly Laughs" to me and it has been a godsend. She is so brutally honest (and graphic!) about all of the physical and emotional changes you go through during pregnancy, so candid and funny that it has helped me to laugh even on some of my darkest days. I haul my big ole belly and my swollen feet onto my garden swing for a few moments and relax and laugh at Jenny's pregnant misadventures, some I can completely relate to, others I'm glad I managed to escape, but through it all, I feel like part of the sisterhood of pregnant women. I am not alone. There are a lot of us going through this, or have gone through this, billions of us throughout history! I can do this! And I swear, from now on, when I see a pregnant woman, I'm going out of my way to be nice to her! I'll give her my place in line, help her carry things, whatever she needs.

I have to say that it's a good thing today's princesses (such as Merida in "Brave") don't need a prince to rescue them, because chivalry is DEFINITELY dead! I went to Canadian Tire expecting to be in and out in a few minutes. I knew what I wanted, it was in the flyer, on sale, I just had to grab it and go. Except that they were sold out. So I was told to head to customer service for a raincheck. OK. My feet were nearly purple but this couldn't take more than 5-10 minutes tops, right? Unfortunately there were six men ahead of me in line. The one at the counter had some sort of problem with his receipt or the price or God-knows-what but his refund was taking an eternity. Phone calls were being made. People were coming with keys. Managers were being called. All the while, the blood and water are pooling in my bloated feet, I'm having a particularly difficult Braxton Hicks contraction, I'm still sweating from it being 35 degrees celsius outside and my ribs hurt. So I stand there waiting, panting, holding my belly, trying to stand like a flamingo (a rather portly and ungraceful one!) to take the pressure off my foot and I couldn't help but think that the six men ahead of me (ranging in age from about 18 years to 50 years) had absolutely no human compassion, honour, kindness, nor any redeeming qualities of any kind. It's not that they didn't see me. A few of them actually eyed me up and down a few times (with looks ranging from mild curiosity, to indifference, to disdain.) I would have been hard to miss. In my mind I fantasized that at least one or even a couple of them would say "Oh you poor dear, you go ahead of me!" But not a single one offered. Of course not. I think there was a time when men were gentlemen, when they would give up their seats for a lady on the train, when they would let a woman "with child" ahead of them in line. Those days are gone. Chivalry. Niceties. Kindness. Gone. Perhaps women's liberation put an end to that. Maybe they figure "Hey, you wanted equality, so stand there and suffer like the rest of us." Except there is no equality because I have never seen a man carrying a small human in his abdomen. They will never know how we suffer. And they don't even care. There are no more princes, knights, heroes. Now there are just cold, selfish, insensitive men standing in the customer service line at Canadian Tire, their eyes vacant as zombies. (Ok, before I start getting hate mail for painting all of manunkind with the same brush, I will admit that yes there are still a couple of nice men in the world. I've met a couple. They just didn't happen to be in that line!)

After 15 minutes I was about ready to collapse. There was a wheelchair by the wall. I was tempted to drag it over and sit on it. Oh to be able to sit at least would be a help. Then the angel of a woman who got in line behind me read my mind "You poor thing. Here why don't you sit on this? I remember what it was like when I was pregnant." I could have kissed her. "I was actually contemplating it. Thank you!" So she wheeled the chair over to me and I sat down. A couple of the guys looked down at me rather sheepishly. Even with me sitting in a wheelchair and my huge balloon feet turning various shades of black, purple and red, they didn't budge, didn't offer to let me ahead of them. I thanked the woman behind me for her kindness. 

I think more concessions should be made for pregnant women. There should be a pregnant express checkout. Special expectant Mom lines at the drive-thru. You should never have to wait, never have to stand, never have to walk more than a few feet to get where you're going. Now granted, I was somewhat less sympathetic before being pregnant myself. I used to roll my eyes when I'd hear someone complain about something and then add "and I'm PREGNANT!" as if that made a difference. Frankly, it does! Now that I know what you go through, those women should be able to get away with anything. Seriously, I think it should even be a valid argument in court. "Your honour, I'm PREGNANT!" "Ok. You're free to go." Even in a murder case. I mean with all those hormones? Please. There should be more expectant mother parking spots. Before I was pregnant I remember seeing so many of those spots and almost being tempted to use them (hey I could be in the first trimester, who would know?) Now that I'm actually pregnant it seems like none of the stores have them anymore. It's not fair. It's like they found out I was pregnant and painted over them all! Or maybe I'm just being sensitive. When I actually find a pregnant parking spot I'm so happy I waddle out of the car proudly displaying my belly like it's some rite of passage. No one would ever question whether I have a right to be in those spots these days. You can see me a mile away.

Most of the time I try to be positive. Unfortunately once in a while I need to vent and I have here, at length. At nine months pregnant, with just a few weeks to go, my body, mind and spirit are stretched to the limit. It's not always easy, but I know it's not for much longer and it's for a really good cause -- the most magical, most significant day of my life.

Life is so strange. I know that when I look back, even at my struggles, I am grateful for the experiences. Things always work out for the best eventually. No matter how tough the obstacles seem at the time, you do get over them. You survive and become stronger. I will get through this. I just have to remember that humour and love can get you through just about anything. I am grateful for the love of friends and family. Grateful for the love I feel for my baby. And grateful that I can still laugh, at life, at myself.

I love to laugh. Especially now. I figure it's a happy earthquake for baby in there and it lets her know that yes, sometimes Mama is sad, sometimes she's scared and stressed and overwhelmed, but a lot of the time she's silly and fun and happy. Life is more of a comedy than a tragedy. You have to laugh.