19 weeks

My aunt kindly asked me to stop posting pics of me pretending to look like I am pregnant. So I will withhold for a few more weeks until I have something to show. I must admit, there is still nothing there. But the aches and pains, also known as 'round ligament pain' in my lower belly, my pelvis, my back and a few other unmentionable areas, are making me think that I may soon 'pop' as some refer to it. I may have a belly soon. Then these stupid pants that I bought with the stretchy waists up to my boobs will stop slipping off my now chubby, but not pregnant looking belly.

Sicky sick sick sick

I get sick alot. It is usually a mild case of the sniffles with a sore throat and a lil cough. But this is brutal, this is like a tsunami is trying to erupt my rib cage. Constant sneezing, either a pouring nose or its stuffed so bad that I can't even muster a nose breath, and my lips are so cracked and dry from mouth breathing its unbearable. And no drugs. Nada.

I have been getting night sweats and chills, but no temperature of any significance so the babe is fine. Its just me thats suffering without a decongestant or a nice night cap to wipe me out. I tend to rely on motherrisk.org for my safety of drugs information. The few drugs I have been wondering about as of late, do not make the cut on their website which gives me the impression that I shouldn't risk it. I can withstand a week of frazzled headaches and dripping snot if it means my babe won't come out with one arm or one lung or worse no lungs at all. Its the unknown that is scary. I am sure it would be fine to take a swig of oil of oregano, or a tylenol cold and flu just one night, but what if that one night is just too much for the babe, what if its at a key moment in it's development and it flips a switch the wrong way and everything goes wrong? It is the unknown that makes it not worth it. I think perhaps I am starting, already, to put this lil one before me.

In just seven days we find out the gender of this babe. Some people are shocked that I am interested in finding out, that I am somehow killing the surprise. As if finding out if it is a girl or a boy kills the surprise, it is a baby, that is a surprise enough! Plus we need five more months to argue over names and toys and clothes and colours. And I can't spend the next five months writing "it" or "he/she" or "the babe", I'd rather know and simplify my writing at least. To conclude, I hope that one day he or she or it or the babe will thank me for not taking tylenol cold and flu. For saving it's life and sacrificing my breathing, decency, energy and public appearance. Over-dramatic much.

Olympic Spirit (not about pregnancy, got sidetracked)

I am lazy. I am starting to think that I have always been lazy, but now that I am pregnant I am especially lazy. Our city is the host to the 2010 winter games and there are events going on everywhere, many of them for FREE! And I have yet to drag my ass to a single event. Instead I have not been reading, nor have I been writing (as my blog can testify), I have not been pitching stories, working at the restaurant or even walking the dog very much. I have not been very social, I have not been shopping for clothes or baby gear, I have not been running to appointments as much as earlier months, and I have not even been sleeping very much. Where the hell have the days gone?

First off, I need to delete facebook. It is a big waste of time. Or rather it can prove to be a big waste of time if you are vulnerable to procrastination, which I am. Secondly, I need to prioritize my goals each day. Today I woke up late, read the news, went to the dentist for two hours, went to buy some dog stuff at the pet store, walked the dog for a couple hours and then went to a prenatal fitness class for an hour. After that I went to the restaurant (place of employment once weekly), and ate for a few hours. It has been four hours since the work out class ended and I am still sitting here in my workout clothes, even wearing my vest, thinking about how I should get up and refill my water. Where has my energy gone?

Perhaps I am mourning. Actually, I am sure that I am mourning. My first ever pup was put to sleep yesterday. 16 years old. He began having seizures and at first they were a week apart and the vet said he might be okay if they didn't start getting more frequent. They checked his blood work and urine and nothing came back irregular except his platelets. But then he seizured again, four times in the nighttime, each time with my mother holding him alone in the house. She said she decided it was enough when she held him as he shook and his face was bleeding from hitting the wall. She said he had enough. And from across the country I asked her to wait, but I knew that it wasn't my place. I wasn't seeing him the way she was seeing him. Just as she had seen my father deteriorate and I had remained a five hour flight away. So she took him to the vet. And the poor little guy did just the same as always, he tried to escape, he whined and wriggled away from the needle. They said it took three people to hold him down to put him to sleep.

The vet said it was likely a brain tumour or a cyst and it would have gotten worse, much worse, and fast. He was showing signs of dementia, walking in circles, getting lost in corners and falling asleep standing up. After each seizure he was losing more of his motor capabilities. But he was such a trooper. Just yesterday I was looking at him on Skype. Watching his head turn at the sound of my voice, from a million miles away. The poor guy, so close to his end but so unaware. I don't know where he is now. I don't know if he is in a better place. I don't know if he was in any pain at all. And the worst part is, I am not even sure if it was the right time. I don't know if he was ready.

My mother is heart broken. I didn't even think she liked Shadow, let alone would miss him. I don't think she knew she did either until the end. She called me to tell me that she was going to say good bye to him that day, but she choked on the words. I remained stone cold. I said nothing. I didn't know how I felt, until I started writing and now I know. I do feel something. I miss him so much. I wasn't ready for him to go. How can anyone ever be ready to say good bye, and over Skype of all things? I wanted to see him, to hold him, to pet him. I was nine years old when I picked him out at the pet store, and now he died across the country where I deserted him. Poor little guy.

Perhaps, if there is a heaven, my dad and Shadow can be together again. They can go for ridiculously long walks and sit in the sun and watch the water. Perhaps, they are in better places. Perhaps they are not alone. I always said I would be more upset if Shadow died then if anyone else in the whole world died. No one has ever loved me as much and as unconditionally as Shadow did. At 16 years of age, people asked if he was a puppy, he had so much energy and such a bounce to his gait that it could be easily mistaken. And now, he is a corpse, no longer running, no longer playing, no longer mine.

Good bye Shadow.

Irony

So.... I wrote an article, under a pseudonym, many months ago. Many months ago meaning before I was pregnant and engaged. I haven't been able to bring myself to read it in recent months. But today I received an email to announce that it has now been published online. Fabulous. Perhaps you can enjoy the irony and exaggeration a tad more than I can today.

No Time on This Sunny February Day

I meant to write a long blog today about workout classes I have been to and my expanding waist line, as usual. However, I decided to whip up a quick spanakopita after my run. It was not quick. I spent more time troubleshooting than cooking meaning the predicted 30 minutes of prep time took me an hour and now I have fifteen minutes for the damn thing to cook and to make it to work. Nonetheless I have no time to write. I just have one website to refer you to, (hisboyscanswim.com) it confirms my assumption that I think like a boy. This father has summarized a babies growth in a way that remains interesting to males. I am interested to hear if you ladies find it as interesting as I did. I haven't been able to get hooked on the sizing charts presented in books and even on my iphone chat, but this one did it for me. This week, my baby is the size of a hockey puck!

What Not To Do....

Things I have done that I would not recommend pregnant gals doing:

1) Sleeping in a friend's condo, just hours after it had been painted
2) Sleeping in that same condo in a double bed with my friend, her boyfriend and my dog
3) Getting a massage on your stomach (bumpy yet or not), the fear of something going wrong killed my ocean side couple massage at the Four Seasons. Not to mention the asshole massage therapist that was pushing down on my lower back enough to induce an abortion.
4) I would recommend that if you are in that aforementioned situation, you speak up and tell him to stop and allow you to roll to your side, I was too shy and regretted it for days.
5) Going for an open door helicopter ride. Bad idea. I didn't understand why the pilot called us adrenaline junkies, until I was reaching for the vomit bag.
6) I didn't find out where the vomit bag was before the flight took off. I actually had a mouth full of puke that I was swallowing and re puking as I tried to sign language to the Man that I needed a bag because I couldn't open my mouth and press the speaker button to tell the pilot. Always know where you are going to puke before you puke, especially in a very windy, open door helicopter with strangers.
7) Going to a Hawaiian Luau. Which is essentially a festival of eating lots of meat and watching skinny ladies shake it. Apparently pig that has been roasted in the ground beneath leaves and such for hours may pose a threat to a pregnant woman's fragile GI system. I spent New Years Eve realizing this.
8) Telling ladies at a Doula workshop that you are pregnant. I was still unsure of whether I was going to keep the babe, and they were busy telling me about their experiences, offering their doula services, mocking baby showers and boasting about blessing ceremonies......
9) Talking face to face with your partner after he has had gum surgery and not washed his bleeding teeth and wounds for five days, I still love you but....
10) Having your parents and the in-laws stay with you for a week while you are still in the first trimester and nauseated and bitchy and bitchy and bitchy....another really bad idea.
11) Going into McDonald's when you are nauseated. Eating it is okay, but I would recommend sending someone else or driving thru, the smell and sights of that place are enough to make me wanna....
12) Telling realtors you are pregnant. It suddenly becomes all about the children that are so far from being children rather than what we want.
13) Telling your friends about potential baby names. If they hate it, and they tell you, you will hate them. If they like it, they might steal it. It's a tricky spot, keep it inside.
14) Wearing super high heels and super tight pants (3 months preggers), riding a party bus through downtown, over several bridges, surrounded by drunken ladies throwing themselves on each other and inadvertently into bus benches and windows. Violent, bruises, out of control, very bad place to be pregnant.
15) Working at a stinky sushi restaurant during the nauseated stages.... A sushi restaurant that specializes in deep fried everything smothered in mayo....
16) Wrestling with your boxer pup who happens to be waist high on hind legs. She tends to live up to her name and has thrown a couple jabs into the belly, bit uncomfortable.
17) Going into an East Hasting hotel. Going into an East Hasting hotel and watching someone puke and having someone smoke in your face for an hour.
18) Riding a scooter in the blistering rain. It's a bit scary, and super depressing. And the road rage I have had lately should be guarded by a seat belt and a heavy door, not the easy access of swinging my fist into any asshole's window.
19) Buying lots of really nice, costly, tight fitting clothes that you think will last you a few months when you first get pregnant. Water retention.
20) Going over to your skinny friends house to try on dresses when you still don't have a bump but have still gotten bigger. The zippers wouldn't budge, it was a tad embarrassing.
21) Trying to get a job, when you are nauseated, exhausted and sometimes in a very bad mood. Perhaps the problem may lie in getting pregnant before having a secure full time job.
22) Prenatal yoga prior to having a protruding belly, see last post.
23) Reading about anybody else's pregnancy experience. It's contagious, what they feel you will start to feel. If your feet haven't swollen yet and you read about it, you will notice your feet start to bulge. If you are pregnant, stop reading. Sign off. Go watch Friends, and not the ones where Rachel is pregnant!
24) Sleeping on a blow up mattress that has been known to leak. Sleeping is hard enough these days and dreams are crazy enough, but that night I had to pump the mattress every hour and I couldnt stop dreaming about sinking on the Titanic. And if you aren't already slightly larger, you will steel feel massive in the morning when you can't get out of bed because you are sinking and have to call for help. But really, thank you for letting me stay over, just please get rid of your mattress.

Prenatal "Yoga"

I have never been much of a fan of yoga. I prefer fast moving, high adrenaline activities where there is no time to think and realize that I am extremely uncomfortable or scared shitless. These days, however, I enviously eye mountain bikers unloading their gear, MMA fighters on the television, and even runners sprinting their hearts out in the trails. These past few months, I have become a a spokesperson for moderation, the old me's nemesis. I take days off from exercise, hell I take weeks off and sit on the couch and eat salty comfort foods. I head out for runs and end up walking the entire time. I have had my swimming gear in my back seat for two months and have not gotten my feet wet (since the day my swimming pal told me she saw a belly protruding). And I am happy to spend the entire day inside in my pajamas reading books, and even cooking, (for those of you who don't know me: this is insanely abnormal). I have even considered taking up knitting, along with my new casserole obsession. And yoga, the fact that I have attended more than one class a week is indicative of the change in my exertion preferences. This slow moving activity, the deep breathing and long breaks, is tempting and relaxing at times. I have been going to Iyengar, Hatha, Yin, Kundalini and Power on the good days. At the beginning of each class I make an awkward introduction to the instructor and tell them, complete strangers, that I am pregnant. They then instruct me on what I can and cannot do, each instructor with a different mantra. I have heard "no twists, no lying on the belly, no lying on your back, don't strain, no hot yoga, twist but not too much, no inversions, do anything that feels right: you will know if its not right (to that teacher I should have said: nothing feels right!)" And the best advice, given by a highly respected male instructor : "try out a prenatal yoga class they will tell you what you can and can't do".

So I took the plunge last Thursday and made my way to my first, and potentially last prenatal yoga class. I arrived a tad early which is not a comfortable place for me to be. I don't know what to do when I am early for yoga classes, and at a prenatal yoga class I found out that women just talk about their babies and their plans and yada yada. I have yet to buy anything for my babe, I have no plans, I have no idea where we will live in six months let alone what colour the nursery will be! I opted for silence. Before entering the studio I was stopped by the cashier and told "this is a prenatal yoga class". I gathered that she thought I was either too skinny to be pregnant, or too young to possibly be pregnant and showing my face amongst the older thirty and forty year olds. I smiled, said nothing and entered the class. I sat on my mat and stretched in silence with no clue what to anticipate. I listened to the instructor walk around and introduce herself to the new members. I realized that there were women in the class who were far less pregnant than me, but seemed by visual speculation, much further along. They had bumps, where is my bump? I should remember to take another pregnancy test soon if a bump does not present. I introduced myself and told her I was 16 weeks and had done yoga before and avoided her eye contact while she smiled and stared at me in this odd spiritual way that is supposed to transcend silence, but made me feel more awkward still. And that was just the beginning.

I want to sum the class up in one paragraph. Basically we spent less than a quarter of the time on our feet, the majority of the class sitting cross legged and the end sleeping in the fetal position. It seemed more like a spiritual dance and chant class than yoga. We belly danced for a good ten minutes, again very awkwardly and hollered out whatever we 'needed to'. I must admit I enjoyed the belly dancing music and asked the Man to make me a cd when I got home. Everything I hated during the class, I look back on with a meek fondness. I can't remember the last time I danced like that, freely, out of rhythm, and sober. Likely not anytime after the age of 12. And we even did some breathing exercises where we hummed nursery rhymes. I don't know any nursery rhymes, so I was horrible at this, but learning important mothering skills, I think. If I do go back, which I doubt I will for a long time. Until I can't do normal yoga anymore, or I can't run freely or go to the gym with my head held high. Until that moment, I may not go back. But if I do go back, there will be two reasons, neither of them related to the physical benefit of the practice. The first is the constant humiliation I felt in the class. Rarely do I feel that stupid and uncomfortable. But, birth can often feel that way too. I can imagine feeling awkward screaming in pain, or moaning or kneeling on all fours or squatting over a toilet with a doula, a midwife, my Man and others surrounding me. I also realize that the awkwardness may cause me to clench up, to tighten my muscles and my being and make birthing impossible. This class encourages us to feel stupid and enjoy it, relax and do what feels right in front of a room full of strangers. The second important lesson was learned in the last ten minutes before shavasana (sleep time) when we stuck our arms straight up in the air and waved them up and down like birds, for ten minutes straight. My shoulders hurt after one minute. But she said we could not stop, we had to push through and so on. I am a sucker for the mantra "no pain no gain" so I jumped on this exercise as soon as she yelled "don't give up!" I watched some ladies put their arms down and my competitive edge kicked in and I flapped harder and stronger. She said "do whatever you have to but continue flapping!" I found myself closing my eyes and rotating my spine in large circles and nodding my head up and down and visualizing myself running around the last corner on a track (the worst part of my race when I ran the 800m), but in my vision I was kicking and getting stronger, I think I even saw a six pack bursting out as I continued to the finish line. And then for the first time ever a vision of me birthing popped into my mind. I was crying and sweating and looked like I was in agony, and for some reason I was flapping my arms as distraction. And I endured, I continued to circle my spine and flap my arms and tried to relax my muscles and rest whilst still contracting the muscles. My arms got warm and tingly and soft and relaxed and the pain began to vanish and it started to feel like I could continue forever...."Stop!" Back to reality, back to the awkward yoga class with older women with bigger bellies and more confident belly dancing. Back to the real me, but just a little bit more prepared perhaps.

Would I recommend prenatal yoga? Its hard to say after just one class. But I can imagine, for some women that have never exercised, doing anything during pregnancy (even if its dancing and arm flapping, aka 'yoga') is better than sitting at home eating chips and McDonalds. For others who are more active and continuing to work-out during pregnancy, I would say to try it out, but not to expect a work out physically but rather mentally. I will warn you to be prepared for the gushy, flowery lingo and the constant hugging of your 'babies'. This I was not prepared for, you see I have yet to develop an attachment to my 3 oz. baby because I have yet to see it bulge from my belly. I need a visual bump before I hug my baby and talk to my baby and sing disjointed nursery rhymes. After that class, I feel that I may be alone with my feelings of disconnect. Perhaps tonight I will belly dance and hmmm and haaa and hug my baby and work on that 'bond' in the privacy of my home and the company of myself.