Milk, Poo and Tears

Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning. Between spit-ups and leaky diapers (pee and poop) the baby went through four outfits and five blankets in a single morning. While I was pregnant and accumulating baby clothes I told my Mom I had enough sleepers for her to wear a different one each day. Mom laughed "You'll need about 6 sleepers a day!" At the time I thought she was exaggerating. Before the baby, a single girl on my own, I used to do laundry once a week, if that. With the baby, I'm doing a load a day. I'm getting tired of the sight of orange poo. Sometimes it's a constant stream. Sometimes I have just finished changing her and she's already pooing again. One time she even splashed my hand before I could get the next diaper on! Beware of exploding orange baby poo! At least I know she's eating well but this is ridiculous. It seems almost constant. She eats. She poos. She cries. She sleeps five minutes. And it repeats. ALL DAY LONG. Until you fear for your sanity. It seems like she screams every few minutes with another poo. I understand, mind you. I'm pretty fussy myself. I would get cranky if I was starving and overtired (come to think of it, I am!) and sitting in my own feces (thankfully I am NOT. But I do suffer from bouts of IBS and have spent a lot of time in the bathroom. Maybe poor baby has inherited my bowel blues.) So I would complain too. But sometimes she keeps crying even after she's been fed and changed and everything is good and then it's just frustrating. "But you have no complaint!" I try to tell her to no avail.

It can be daunting dealing with bodily fluids from morning until night. I'm surprised I don't have nightmares about orange diarrhea! They tell me the day will come when she will only mess one or two diapers a day. Right now it's about 6-10 a day. Or more. I lost count. At least 4 really big poos. A few smaller poos & a bunch of wet ones. She never used to spit up milk. Now she's spitting up more and more (which I hear is normal). There are often little white curds in it. (Curds and whey? What is she? Little Miss Muffet?! What kind of milk am I making here?) I heard that when they are first born they don't have tear ducts. She certainly does now. It breaks my heart to see her little tears. I never want her to cry. Sometimes it does make me angry though, when she's fed and clean and everything seems good and she still fusses. It's like she doesn't have a right to cry! I tell her I'm the one who should be crying! She has me to take care of her and meet her needs but there's no one to take care of me and I barely have a moment to care for myself!

One day when she was upset inexplicably I sat with her laying on my lap in the rocking chair making a gentle shushing noise (it occurs to me how much easier it would be if we lived by the ocean. The sound of the waves would be soothing for both of us) until she stopped crying and fell asleep. Then I started to cry. I looked at the turquoise wall that used to be grey, sitting in the nursery that used to be an office (at least for a few months) for her father, wondering where he is, what he's doing, whether he ever thinks of us. Even if he hated me (and I don't know why he would when I gave him everything, the key to my house and my heart) how could he walk away from his own child? And not ever want to see her, hold her, know her? How could he just forget? How does he carry on with his life and just pretend we never happened? I still can't believe it. And I wondered, just for a fleeting moment, what if I hadn't gone on that date, hadn't met him at Tim Hortons, hadn't fallen in love with the most cruel, most cowardly man on earth, hadn't let him move in too soon, hadn't gotten pregnant unexpectedly. Then I looked down at my perfect, beautiful little cherub and I sobbed deeply (as quietly as I could so as not to disturb her) and I thought "But I couldn't undo this. I wouldn't undo this. Even after all the pain, all the stress, all the anguish. It had to be. She had to be. And I would do it all over again to have her."

"I love you, baby," I told Michelle, wiping away my tears, "Mama loves you." She let out a little sigh in her sleep and her lips curled into a half smile. "Even when you're killing me, I love you."

I survived abandonment. Pregnancy. Being pregnant alone. (And still having to do housework, yard work, gardening, mowing the lawn, heavy lifting, even at 9 months pregnant.) I survived labour and delivery, even when it got rough at the end with a male doctor stepping in to "assist" -- reaching into my insides up to his elbows and twisting things around, even using a plunger (vacuum) and salad tongs (forceps) to pull my 9 pound 4 ounce baby out -- and ripping me apart in the process. I'm hoping the stitches from the episiotomy are healing OK. I'm too scared to look. Survived the first few difficult weeks with a newborn, the challenge of breastfeeding, no sleep, barely a second to myself to eat, go to the bathroom, do laundry. I survived. And I will survive. I have to be strong for her. She's worth it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Sometimes my heart still breaks though. I know that hormones are part of it. My breasts are leaking milk. I'm on little to no sleep. I'm run ragged from morning to night trying to meet the needs of an adorable though ruthless and irascible dictator in diapers. I am so owned. Her father mesmerized and controlled me. Now she's doing the same. The difference is she's innocent. She doesn't mean to tear me apart (even when she nearly bit my nipples off the first week of breastfeeding.) Sometimes I just think about all that has happened this past year. I see the months flicker by like movie scenes. Meeting Mike. Him moving in. Finding out I was pregnant. The house full of pets. Christmas and the beautiful letter he wrote me about how much he loved me, how excited he was about the baby, how we'd be a cute little family and I was stuck with him forever. Then his unexplained disappearance in February. Losing Banff. Being broke. Everything falling apart. All the heartache. Then miracles happening, hope, life getting better. The months of pregnancy -- a rollercoaster of highs and lows. Labour and delivery. The pain and fear and joy. Meeting my baby. The scary first few days trying to care for her. Seeing her smile the first time. Looking into her eyes. Sometimes I'm overcome with emotion. I can't believe it all happened. Sometimes I just need a good cry. It's like I can only hold it in so long and then I crack, the dam breaks and it all floods out. It's a release. A relief.

Some days it feels like an uphill battle. She poos and it leaks through the diaper and is all over her outfit and blanket. So I bathe her (which is quite an ordeal in itself with a little screaming on her part though she usually enjoys it at least partially. She never likes getting out.) Then when she's all clean and I'm putting the lotion on she pees/poos on the towel. "Really?!" It's so frustrating. I'm not about to bathe her again but it's disheartening to go through all that just to have her sitting in pee/poo again anyway. Although with 10 or more diaper changes a day it's not as though I can keep her pee/poo free for long! You just go through a ton of baby wipes and wash cloths to keep up.

There are times I think "This is hell!" and I don't know how I'll cope. Other times I manage to have a sense of humour about it. And then all of a sudden she'll surprise me and have a really good day -- sleeping better at night, not fussing so much during the day, letting me go through a grocery store or visit friends without screaming. Then there are the magical moments when I watch my little angel sleeping, when she smiles at me or stares at me wide-eyed, innocent and full of wonder. Those moments are worth anything. Even poo and screaming.

A public health nurse came to the house to see us. I guess it's standard practice when someone has a baby for them to send someone to make sure you're doing OK. It's a good idea. You never know. I mean you need to read a manual and take a written test and road test before they let you drive a car but you give birth to a fragile little human and they let you walk out of the hospital the next day without any sort of test! The biggest responsibility on the planet, caring for a baby and yet there is no test, no manual, no license. You just figure it out on your own. (Mind you the nurses did give a few pointers in the hospital. Some more helpful than others.) I remember one nurse, a cool one (I wish she had been my nurse the whole time instead of the scatterbrain that was dealing with me most of the time) saying "People think that babies are so fragile, that they're like eggs. But they're hard-boiled eggs. They're more resilient than you think." It was after she had shown me the proper way to breastfeed and it seemed a bit aggressive to me. She thought I wasn't aggressive enough. (I don't know why but this reminds me of the one time I went horseback riding. The trainer was telling me to kick the horse and I wouldn't. She warned me that I was "too nice" and the horse would be in control instead of me. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to kick the horse. "It doesn't hurt them," she reassured me, "they're tough and they're used to it." But I still couldn't do it. So of course while everyone else's horse was sauntering along obediently at a leisurely pace, mine was galloping ahead at breakneck speed, scaring me to death and doing as he pleased because I was too much of a wimp to take control. Nice guys finish last. Unless they're on a horse and then I guess I would have come in first with my wild out of control stallion!) OK this paragraph was supposed to be about the nurse and somehow I ended up on horses... I guess the point is (when it comes to animals or children) sometimes you have to take charge, to take control or they will run amok and drag you with them. Anyway, the nurse was very nice. I told her my tale (about the baby's father leaving etc.) She thought he was a monster and that I was very strong. She complimented me on the baby, on my home and said that I seem to be doing really well. It felt good to have a stranger come in and tell me that I'm doing the right things and have it all together. It was reassuring to have positive feedback, especially from an expert. It's easy to doubt yourself when it's all so new and when you have people throwing in their (often negative) two cents about what you "should" be doing.

I also had a very nice visit with a couple of friends, James and Amy, and Michelle was surprisingly good at their place. She was all smiles and in good spirits most of the time. She almost made a liar of me (they had heard about Michelle screaming and thought I was making it up) of course by the evening she was showing her dark colours again and started exercising her lungs until her face turned red. I took my cue and bid them good night. It was a treat to have a home cooked meal, a bathroom break (James held her while I went to the ladies room. Not always an option when I'm home! Sometimes I have to hold it indefinitely!) and people to talk to who are down to earth, relaxed and calm. It was a good vibe for Michelle and I to be around. So thanks guys! Amy made a beautiful Little Mermaid blanket for Michelle and cooked a nice dinner (which I inhaled ravenously!) James was hilarious as usual and even had Michelle smiling and laughing. Aside from her relatives she doesn't have a lot of men in her life (I don't plan to have one in my life for quite some time! I wouldn't have time anyway!) so it's nice for her to be around a nice one now and then.

 

I decided to brave the grocery store again (the same one she'd had her meltdown in before). I do have to eat after all! Miraculously she stayed asleep the whole time. I almost have it down to a science now though. Feed her. Wait half an hour. Change her diaper (a huge poo). Then she's still a bit fussy because she's tired and just about ready to fall asleep. That's the perfect moment to get her into the car. She falls asleep during the ride and then is still knocked out while in the shopping cart. She did start to fuss on the ride home. I crinkled some foil that my Mom had given me. For some reason the noise stops her crying and she goes back to sleep. Sometimes a noise is all it takes. A distraction. Entertainment.

And recently I learned that she loves dancing. I had the radio on a dance music station (I miss going dancing) and I had her in my arms because I was trying to lull her to sleep. I started dancing around with her. She loved it. She looked quite content. The more I bopped around and swayed back and forth, the happier she seemed. Before I knew it, she was out like a light. It's good exercise for me and entertains her so I think I'll be dancing a lot. She likes her swing too sometimes but other times it doesn't cut it. Sometimes I guess she just needs to be cuddled and carried. Needs to know that Mama is there.

She was also good as gold in Walmart. She stayed asleep the entire time and even when I was cashing out, she woke up but was still mellow and didn't cry. I was so relieved. I thought maybe she's turned a corner and is going to be good from here on out. But then she had a difficult night, fussing and inconsolable. It seems if she has a good night then she's fussy during the day and if she has a bad night she's good during the day. I guess it's too much to expect her to be happy and restful both day and night!

The summer is almost over and I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to the beach (other than my little backyard beach) this year but it is too soon. She's too young and fragile and being a pale blue eyed redhead her skin would be much too sensitive, vulnerable to the sun. You can't put sunscreen on a newborn. We'll have to wait until next year. I'm not really ready either. I'm hoping to be bikini ready by next year. I'm hoping to lose the "Mommy tummy." It has gotten a little smaller. I wish I could lose the stretch marks too. I hope they fade at least. I wanted to do a little beach photo shoot with Michelle so I improvised. I had these cute shades from Osh Kosh and adorable little sandals from Old Navy. I did have an adorable pink swimsuit that was supposed to fit 0-3 but it was way too small for her. She pretty much fits 3 month sized clothes now. She looked at me like "What the heck are you doing Mom?" Sorry baby. You live with the paparazzi! You're going to be in a LOT of photos! Everyone always says they grow so fast. I want to capture every moment.

When she gives me a hard time -- with seemingly endless poo and tears -- I can be grateful that she won't stay this way for long. Her stomach will grow and she'll be able to hold more food and poo less often. And hopefully she will learn that her needs are always met and she doesn't need to cry so much. But when she's a delight -- wide-eyed, sweet, smiling or just contentedly looking at me curiously and I look at her angelic little face and her tiny fingers and tiny toes, it makes me sad that she won't stay this way for long. She'll grow up and won't need me so much and maybe I'll look back at this time and think how lucky I was, even when she was screaming. 

She's one month old now! It's hard to believe a month has gone by already. It really has flown by. Even the really hard days. This time is so precious. It is more than just breastfeeding, changing diapers and soothing tears. It's about bonding. It's about love and patience. It's baby Michelle and I learning as we go. It's not easy, for either of us. She's discovering a whole new world that she's just entered. I'm figuring out how to be a Mom (a whole new world for me!) We both have a lot to learn. We'll figure it out together.

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.

A Hot Mess!

Well it was the first official day of Summer and it was HOT. Record-breaking hot. 40 degrees Celsius (104 Fahrenheit). Over 45 with the humidex. Normally I don't mind the heat. Last Summer I would have been in a bikini, heading to the beach. This year, I'm 8 1/2 months pregnant. The idea of wearing a bikini isn't too appealing. And long road trips aren't as fun now that I'm not driving my convertible (which incidentally I still have to sell! Please let me know if you're in the market for a nearly new Mazda MX5!) and my feet and legs are blown up like balloons making driving uncomfortable at all.

It's tough to stay cool. I don't have air-conditioning. Luckily I have a big tower oscillating fan. It is a life-saver. Last night I tried to sleep in the basement but I just lay there for hours so I finally went up to my bedroom, with my big fan next to me and the window open. Thankfully the air had cooled down somewhat and I got a little sleep.

It's not easy. I've heard the second trimester of pregnancy referred to as the honeymoon phase and it was pretty good overall. Well the honeymoon is over! I'm at 35 weeks and I'm a hot mess! The heat certainly isn't helping but it's not all I have to deal with these days. I've been overly emotional, weepy, irritable. I hung up on my mother a couple of times (she's a worrier and can be very negative. I just can't deal with it when I'm already stressed and going through enough.) I still have to sell my car which is a big stress. Finances are a stress. Impending labour is a stress. The biggest change in my life, the unknown is a stress. Not to mention what I'm going through physically.

Whether it's the pregnancy hormones, the stress or the heat or a combination of all three, my skin has been erupting in bumps like never before. I have a whole whack of new skin tags. I've read they are common in pregnancy and are harmless, they're just a nuisance. They have an over the counter solution you can use to remove them but I wouldn't be able to use it during pregnancy. So I'm stuck with them for now. On top of that I'm getting other sore bumps here and there. Pimples and blisters and boils, oh my! It's no wonder my skin gets irritated given that I'm overflowing with hormones, carrying so much extra weight, have developed new folds here and there, am sweating profusely. I have a painful bump on my inner thigh which gets rubbed every time I walk because my legs touch now. I tried to put cream and a bandage on it but it doesn't stay because of the rubbing and the sweat. The only way I can keep my legs from touching is to try to walk bowl-legged which of course looks ridiculous. There are fewer and fewer clothes that fit me now and some of the things I was anxious to wear I am now apparently allergic to. My skin is so itchy (particularly my chest) that I can't stand anything against it that isn't soft cotton. I'm wondering now if a lot of the tops have nylon in them and I'm allergic to nylon. Not all of them have labels to tell you what the fabric is. They never bothered me before but my skin is different now. It seems my skin, and me, are much more sensitive these days.

Sometimes it's just overwhelming. Yesterday I just went down to the basement, curled into a ball and cried. My cat, Ali came to comfort me. She was so sweet. She even let out the cutest little cry. It's a sound I've never heard her make before. It's like she understands. She purred and snuggled up next to me until I felt better. Sometimes a good cry is all you need. Just a release. And I know a lot of it is hormones. I did some reading online and everything I was going through (the stress and the tears and the bumps) was all normal. That helps somewhat.

I met a friend for brunch today which was nice and then did a bit of shopping. When I waddled into one store from outside the clerk shook her head and smiled at me "You poor thing. You must REALLY be feeling this heat." "Oh yeah. And I don't have A/C at home."

In another store the cashier said "Pregnant in the Summer? You didn't plan that very well!"
"Honey I didn't plan it at all! Biggest surprise of my life!"

I was walking back to my car and was worried I would spontaneously combust so I ducked into a furnishings store just to get a breath of refreshing conditioned air. I guess my breathing had them a little worried and they asked me to sit down. It was a relief to sink into a soft chair in the cool store. "Ahhhh." The problem was it was hard to get up afterward!

Carrying this belly around is the biggest challenge. I have a hard time getting up. It's almost impossible to bend over. I have trouble breathing. Climbing the stairs is rough. I swear there are more stairs now somehow. Baby Michelle is moving much more aggressively. It's kind of fun to watch but sometimes I worry she's going to put a fist through my belly or just walk out of me when she's kicks really low.

I've reached a number on the scale that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I know it's only temporary but it is still rather surreal. I try to keep my sense of humour about it. I'm thinking of learning to speak whale. (If you don't know Dory from "Finding Nemo" this won't really make much sense to you!)

Speaking of whales, I love this little Whale nightlight I got from the people at work! I had been wanting to find a sea theme nightlight for the nursery and didn't have much luck. This one is just perfect!

I also love this pink stuffed whale they gave me. She even plays music. I can't resist when I see any cute fish themed items to add to the nursery. I'm glad that people were paying attention and found some more ocean treasures for me.

I'm happy with the nursery. I can't wait to have the furniture (when my brother in law brings the crib, rocker and change table in his truck) and see it finished.

Of course I was obsessed with the ocean long before I started decorating the nursery. My Mom asked if my dreams of living on a tropical island were gone after suffering through this heat. I said no of course not. I won't always be pregnant (actually I would venture to say that I will likely NEVER be pregnant again! This miracle baby is my first, last and only. Unless I meet the most incredible man on Earth and love him so much that I'm willing and/or insane enough to attempt it again if he had his heart set on a child. Did I really just say that?! OK. It is HIGHLY UNLIKELY. But if there's one thing I've learned about life it's that it surprises you. My experiences in the past nine months have all been highly unlikely and against the odds, but here I sit. You just never know!) Anyway, no Mom I am not giving up on the whole island thing. I would still love it. Besides if I lived right near the ocean, the heat wouldn't be such a problem. I'd jump in right now! I suppose I could still drive to the beach here though there isn't one all that close. I should hit the beach at least once while pregnant. Just for kicks. I have a tankini that accommodates the belly... 

I used the heat as an excuse to go for an Oreo McFlurry. I just couldn't resist. My Mom suggested I have popsicles on hand to cool me down. I found these ones that are supposed to have real fruit juice in them, so presumably a little healthier. They're pretty good. Very refreshing. I'm not a big fan of plain water but I have been drinking more ice water. I have to stay hydrated when I'm sweating so much. I like water with a little lemon. Lemonade is delicious but loaded with sugar of course. I do love my sugar but I try to get my fix through fruit. I ate a bunch of grapes, an apple and some cold, sweet local strawberries to die for. 

I had almost forgotten I had these gel slippers hiding in the back of the fridge. The cool only lasts a couple of minutes but it's a nice treat for my hot, bloated feet for those minutes let me tell you! With the weight of my belly on top of the heat, my feet are blown up more than ever. So puffy they look like they're going to explode. I almost laugh when I see them. They don't even look like my feet. They look like the feet of a 400 lb man! Even elevating them doesn't seem to help. (Not that I put my feet up too often. I should be taking it easy but I usually don't. I always think of something else I should do.)

 

Another trick to stay cool is keeping my pjs in the freezer. Like the gel slippers, the cold only lasts a minute but it's soooooo refreshing for those brief moments it's worth it.

I'm starting to get a little tired so I think I'll grab my jammies from the icebox and hit the hay! At least the air outside is a bit cooler so I should be all right with the window open and my biggest fan next to me (one of my exes referred to himself as my biggest fan. He was pretty cool. He oscillated too. But it was never easy to sleep next to him...) 

They're calling for a thunderstorm tomorrow. I sure hope we get it. The lawn and garden need a drink. It would be a relief for me too. I think I'd almost be tempted to dance in the rain at this point. Then it's supposed to cool down on the weekend and next week it's going to go down to 20 degrees Celsius (68 Fahrenheit) which will be a nice break.

Despite some of the physical (mental and emotional) discomforts, I know that I'm very lucky to have had a healthy pregnancy and that everything has been pretty normal throughout. Being pregnant is a unique adventure. It is a gift. After all, I'm carrying a baby in this big ole belly! How amazing is that? It's all going to be more than worth it once I hold my baby in my arms. I know that I can look forward to future Summers at the beach, my little girl and me. And I may even look back a little wistfully at the Summer when I was pregnant. Especially since it will (probably) never happen again.