Probably Paranoia

I'm moderately active. I used to run every day (sometimes twice a day) before this happened.

Jake is extremely active, and not just as far as exercise is concerned. He's kind of crazy.

So, it's been no surprise to me that the Beast has been an especially active fetus. It normally feels like s/he is trying to skip the whole vaginal delivery ordeal and just kick an exit in my (right) side.

Thursday, I had a doc appointment. The heart monitor Doppler madoodle picked up a heartbeat that was just as fast as it usually is (150ish), but I remember thinking, "That sounds kinda weird." I didn't say anything, though, because I figured the doctor standing there would probably notice if something was up. He didn't say anything, so I didn't say anything.

Friday, I wasn't really paying attention to the Beast's kicks all day. I'm not in the habit of purposefully lying down and feeling for movement, because like I said, normally the Beast is trying to kick his/her way out of my side. It wasn't until that evening after dinner (TACOS so yummy in my tummy) that I realized I hadn't been assaulted all day... not to my recollection, anyway. I remember a 10-minute bout of hiccups, but that's pretty much it. I mentioned this to Jake, and he immediately started to poke me in the belly. This illicited a couple of feeble swats, which I was happy with. I figured the Beast was just having a nap day.

This morning, there hasn't been much movement at all. I even slammajammed a glass of OJ, which normally sends the Beast bouncing off the walls, but nothing. Not really. I've felt the equivalent (basically) of when you go to wake up someone who is trying to sleep in, and they just roll away from you and mutter something under their breath. That's all I got. The Beast just rolled over and went, "Flurmmmggggg," and went right back to sleep.

Being the Internet-addicted computer monkey that I am, I summoned the Google and asked it "fetal movement before labor." I've been wondering for a few days now if fetuses can sense their imminent ejection, and if they react to that, either by flipping out or by trying to be very still and hang on for dear life. I found several message boards and articles on teh Google which said the following:

It's normal for babies to slow down movement right before labor. This could mean two hours or two days. Apparently, the dropping of the head into the pelvis causes them to get "stuck," which makes movement difficult. However, this isn't true for all babies and some continue to breakdance all the way through delivery until they come shooting out into the world.

It's normal for babies to slow down movement as they get bigger and space gets hard to find. I don't think this is the case, unless the Beast doubled in size since Wednesday. As I recall, s/he was having a blast kicking the crap out of me on Wednesday and Thursday morning.

The idea that a slowing of fetal movement before labor is normal, is a total myth. Go to the hospital. Get help now. *whimper*

So, it's either perfectly fine, or a total myth and the Beast is dying as I type this. I've spent the last hour pumping myself up in preparation for calling the hospital. I don't like talking on the phone to strangers. Not at all. I wouldn't ever answer the phone as a kid, and I still don't leave messages for people unless I really need them to call me back. Also, I have the suspicion that the conversation is going to go something like this:

Nurse: Hello, this is Nurse Someone in Labor and Delivery. We're very busy this morning, but I answered the phone anyway because if I don't, I'll get yelled at by a doctor. What do you want?

Me: Uhhh, hi. *several seconds of awkward stammering* I'm 39 weeks pregnant and since yesterday, my baby hasn't been mov--

Nurse: Have you felt any movements at all? Did I mention how busy we are?

Me: Yes.

Nurse: Yes you've felt movement? Or yes you understand that you're wasting my precious time?

Me: Uhh... both?

Nurse: If you've felt movement, you're fine.

Me: But it's not as much movement as usual. Usually the baby is kicking so hard it feels like Bruce Lee vs Chuck Norris all up inside me.

Nurse: If you've felt movement, you're fine.

Me: Yeah, but--

Nurse: IF YOU'VE FELT MOVEMENT, YOU'RE FINE. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE? NO? GREAT. GOOD-BYE. *click*

Me:

32 Weeks

I forgot to do this yesterday! Derp!

8 weeks left! Well, technically, 7 weeks and 6 days. But that's close enough to 8, so whatever.

Alls' well on the Beastly Front. S/he seems to favor my right side. Apparently, something is amiss on the left side of my uterus, so the Beast likes to jam him/herself onto the right side. I keep getting jacked from the inside by... some body part. I don't know which one. I'm guessing a knee or elbow. It doesn't feel small enough to be a foot or hand. And contrary to what everyone thinks, no, I cannot SEE body parts when I am assaulted.

Totally not me

News Flash: The Beast can read my mind. S/he's been perfectly still and dormant for a couple of hours now, but just when I start to type about him/her... BAM! KICK! POW! "How dare you speak ill of me!"

I've been bitching for about 2 months now about how being pregnant sucks and how I'm totally over it. Still true. Maybe even more true than ever before now. I've moved into the Hot Flash Zone, and the number of shirts I can wear that still cover up my belly is dwindling. My back hurts! Nothing new, but I'm starting to get ornery about it. I don't like being in constant pain. I can do short bursts (a "short burst" is defined as any pain that lasts between an hour and 3 days), but this prolonged owie garbage is not cool. Not cool, at all.

I think I might be getting Braxton Hicks. But I'm not sure. For those of you who don't know, Braxton Hicks are fakesies contractions. Basically, the uterus in training for the upcoming Day of Baby. The literature says that they can begin as early as 6 weeks, but most women won't feel them that early (and some women never feel them at all). I first noticed a few days ago... it kind of just felt like gas. I wouldn't say it was painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

Now I don't know about you, but when I have bad gas pains, I try to rip a couple so I don't have to be in pain anymore. Of course, I exercise prudence whilst cutting the cheese (so no giant farts in the checkout aisle at the supermarket or anything), unlike some people. Anyway, with these "gas pains," there was no gas to be passed. It went away after a few minutes, so I didn't think anything more of it.

Until today, when it happened again. This time it hit me for a few minutes in the grocery store, and then again when I got home about 20 minutes later. That was uhhh... two hours ago? Nothing since then. I have a doctor's appointment next week, so I can ask him. If I remember.

Technically, I'm due on September 22nd. That's my 40 weeks. I've been assured by many supposedly-well-meaning people that first-time babies are always late. Bah. Jake's sister just had her first baby and he was a week-ish early. So I'm taking heart, and I'm also going to eat that chicken and garlic pizza that she swore is what put her into labor.

I keep getting sidetracked. OK. Due on Sept 22. BUT my "on-time" window extends from September 8th to October 8th. I'm rooting for September 8th. Actually, I might root for more like the 12th or so... some time after the 11th. It's garlic chicken pizza time beginning September 12th!

My mom and my sissy are coming out here on Sept 30th until Oct 6th to visit me and the baby. I really hope I don't go into labor on October 7th! *cackle*

It has been suggested that I hold out until October 10th, because 10/10/10 would be a fun birthday. Sure it would. For someone else. I'm going to be so mad at the Beast if s/he stays inside me until October 10th. If it's October 8th and I'm still with child, though, I'll probably hold out those extra two days, because if I'm going to be late, I might as well go on 10/10/10.

Operation: Unpack My Crap, Day Three

Today was a total bust as far as Operation Unpack My Crap was concerned.

My dad and I did, however, make it down to the LDS genealogy center to look up family history! My dad is the genealogy buff in our family, so I thought he'd get a kick out of the place. As it turns out, the Mormon church knows less about our family history than my dad has already been able to find on the Interwebs, but it was still cool to see all the info that they DID have, especially considering that my family has a large presence in one of the most historically anti-Mormon states in the USA, Missouri (and therefore, may or may not have been total dicks to the Mormons when they were there).

Anywho, after we finished surfing for porn on the genealogy computers, we decided it was time for lunch. There are two restaurants on the top floor of the building that the genealogy center is in, so we went up there and had lunch. My dad freaked the waitress out by asking what beer they had, but lunch was otherwise uneventful. The Beast liked the sammich I had so much that he kicked the bejesus out of my side for a couple of hours.

Operation Unpack My Crap was revisited for about 2 minutes when we got back from the genealogy center. I had to find the monitor for my computer. Very important stuff! I found my Wii and PS2 while I was at it. Now, if only I had a TV...

I Overdid It

So yesterday, I cleaned my house. I really cleaned my house. I inherited neat freakness from my mom, and it all came out in one tremendous surge all day yesterday. I usually clean every Sunday, and do a deep clean once a month; however, I've been slacking lately on my weekly cleaning sessions. I still manage to change the water in the fish tank and tend my jalapeños, but vacuuming and scrubbing the toilets and that kind of thing had fallen by the wayside.

It all started with Sophie. It was heartworm pill and flea medicine day, and whenever it's flea day, it's also bath day. I bathe her first, dry her as much as I can with a towel, put flea meds on her, and then give her the heartworm pill. She likes the pill, but she hates the flea liquid. I guess it's probably that feeling of something wet dripping down her back that she dislikes. Whatever the reason, her normal routine after bath/flea time is to run around the house like a maniac and then slide around on the floor on her back, trying to get the flea medicine off.

Like this:

To prevent this, I'll take her for an hour-long walk afterward; this air-dries her and also gives the flea medicine time to soak in and dry.

So, a-walkin' we did go, and she loved it, and it was good for me. Yay.

When we got back, I noticed a wet spot on the couch. I sniffed it, as I do with all mysterious wet spots around the house, and it smelled vaguely chemical. I determined that Sophie must have brushed up against the couch and gotten her flea medicine on it, and I started to freak out. I didn't know how badly that stuff would stain our couch, so I tried to blot it off. Didn't work. The next logical step, of course, was to strip the cover off of the couch cushion and hand-wash that spot. And I did.

When I was disassembling the couch, I noticed that there were surprises under the cushions. So I vacuumed them up. Then I wondered what would be under the couch itself, so I moved it and vacuumed there. Then I vacuumed the living room. Then I dusted. Then I moved into another room, and another, and upstairs, and so on. Five hours later, I felt that I should stop.

Up side: the house is super clean. Whee!

Down side: I think my back is on strike.

I could barely roll out of bed this morning. My back hurts soooo bad. I might not get around to my normal Sunday routine things (which is pretty much only aquarium maintenance today). I tried to take Sophie for a walk, but it hurt too much. It kinda looks like rain anyway, though, so... meh.

Oh! Last night, I was trying to do a kick count but the Beast was sleeping or meditating or something. So I was poking myself in the belly to antagonize the Beast into moving, and s/he started kicking back at where I was poking. HARD! I got it on video!

The kicking starts around 9 seconds in. It made me think of that part in "Alien" where the baby alien came screaming out of that guy's chest.