34 weeks, and counting (the minutes).

So much has changed since the day I found out I was pregnant.

Husband and I both picked up second jobs to bulk up our savings account, a move that, while wise financially, was grueling physically and emotionally. I had no idea how hard  it would be to work so much while growing a child. As I've discovered, being pregnant in and of itself is a full-time job, 24/7, with no time off and no one to call and cover for you if you just don't feel well. To complicate matters, I was trying to balance work and being pregnant with my Fibromyalgia, a disorder that causes chronic pain fatigue. You can guess for yourself how well that worked out for me.

I'm at the point of no return now. 34 weeks pregnant, and things are starting to get serious. The first trimester is often lousy, but you get through it with the thought of the beautiful second trimester to come, the blessed break in your pregnancy where things are starting to look pretty good. People start noticing your baby bump, and the positive feedback is like a breath of fresh air. You have more energy, and suddenly you want to eat again. This whole baby-carrying thing starts to feel a little easier, even do-able. Then comes the third trimester. It sneaks up on you, at first. You have some exhausting days, but for the most part you're doing well. Then, all of a sudden, every day is an exhausting day, and you start to wonder when was the last time you could comfortably tie your shoes.

I think back to the days when my baby's movements were like little butterflies fluttering in my belly, each one was delicate and exciting. Now it feels like we're struggling against each other for room in this body we are sharing. I'm beginning to think this town ain't big enough for the both of us, and it doesn't help that I still have six weeks to go. How on earth am I going to pull that off? It also doesn't help that I feel like I'm carrying Andre the Giant. At our ultrasound yesterday, we discovered that the baby is already six pounds and has a femur size in the 98th percentile, which means it's going be tall, like its Daddy. A big baby, indeed.

At the doctor's office yesterday, I was hit with the cold reality of what I will be living with for the next six weeks. My conversation went a little something like this:
Me- "I am just so tired, all the time. I've never been so tired."
Doc- "Welcome to the last month of pregnancy."
Me-"My abdomen is so sore, it hurts to walk or even sit up if the baby is putting any pressure on it."
Doc- "Welcome to the last month of pregnancy."
I left the office slightly dazed. This is it, I realized, the home stretch. The unavoidable last weeks that I've skimmed through in my pregnancy books. Skimmed through, because those chapters were too frightening to read.  Is that really going to happen to me? Yes. Yes, it will. 


Welcome to the last month (or so) of pregnancy.

scare tactics

This week has been a blur. It all started innocently enough, Husband and I had been celebrating his birthday and setting up the baby furniture that came piling in from friends and relatives over the past ten days or so. We were shopping for baskets at Ross, the most mundane of married life activities, when things suddenly changed.

I lost my breath, and at first thought nothing of it. I loose my breath all the time, and attributed it to sharing my lung space with the baby. Husband got me a chair, and I rested until I felt well enough to keep going. But then it happened again, and this time, it got bad. I couldn't breathe, I was disoriented and could scarcely speak. Husband quickly called Labor & Delivery while I tried to gain some semblance of control over myself. Eventually, we were told to go straight to the E.R.

I loathe being in the E.R., and fought against it with whatever stubbornness I could muster, but even I had to admit, I was a little worried. When we got there, I was given oxygen and an artery blood level test declared I was not getting enough. Doctors got worried, and started talking about a pulmonary embolism. The next twenty-four hours was a hellish circus of tests and IVs and desperately sucking on ice because I wasn’t allowed anything to eat or drink. Eventually, a pulmonary embolism was ruled out, and I was released with a confused bill of health and told to see my OB. Husband and I went to dinner to celebrate what remained of his birthday, feeling shell-shocked and stunned. It had all happened so fast.

Now, the morning after it all, I am sore and bruised up and down my arms and still a little shocked, but so grateful to be home. I’m looking at the mountain of pastel-colored baby laundry that has been waiting patiently to get washed, and thinking about the future. I’m trying not to worry about what my next Labor & Delivery experience will be like.

Go figure!

I've discovered there is very little you can't clean with vinegar and baking soda. I stumbled across this little how-to gem whilst browsing tipjunkie.com:

Unclog The Sink

In her quest to be frugal along with the desire to remove as many harsh chemicals from her home as possible, Dana has found a few ways to take care of common household problems.

To unclog the sink, look no further than your pantry because here is a very effective way to unclog sinks using vinegar, baking soda and water.
Step 1 - Put about 3/4 cup DRY baking soda down the drain.
Step 2 – Pour 1/2 cup of vinegar down the sink after the baking soda. Be sure to cover the drain immediately afterward with a rag or plug, filling the hole completely so nothing can escape. This is because the interaction of the two will cause a “mini volcano” that will want to come up, you want to keep it down there.
Step 3 – Leave this concoction in the drain for about 30 minutes. While you’re waiting, boil about a gallon of water.
Step 4 - After 30 minutes, remove the plug and slowly pour the HOT water down the drain.

I haven't tried it out for myself yet, but it excited me nonetheless.