Filed under: Pregnancy
This morning I was moaning and groaning while I waited for my toast to pop. Keith asked me if there was anything he could do. I told him he could perform surgery and just get the baby out now. He inventoried the list of tools he had on hand. “How ’bout a hive tool and a bee smoker?” I laughed and peed my pants a little. The end.
Filed under: Pregnancy
Last night my body gave me a little preview of labor! How thoughtful of my body! I spent the day dyeing towels and cleaning out/re-organizing my walk in closet, then topped it off by helping Keith and Kathy separate some young hogs to wean them. There was much pig screaming and biting and drama. I didn’t actually do much, just distract the mama sow with food so that Keith could grab the babies and hand them off to Kathy to haul up the hill to the other pen. Mama Sow was pissed. And she was trying to bite my husband. So I was whomping her with a stick and pouring grain in her trough, alternately. It was all screamy and bloodshedy. So I thought to myself, Nuggy doesn’t like this. I should get out of here. By then it was pretty much over, so I started the long walk up to the house. The cramps started as I hauled myself up the stairs. They were the kind of cramps my midwife warned me about. Not Braxton Hicks, which I get a lot these days, but real contractions. Waaay too early. I got in the shower and tried to think positive thoughts. I told Nuggy that it is too early for a grand entrance. Go to sleep. Sorry about all the screaming.
Of course, Keith got all worked up and forced me to call my midwife. She was very concerned and told me to get in bed and drink a glass of wine or beer. Normally she wouldn’t recommend this, but alcohol is a uterine relaxant and my uterus needed to relax. So I started timing the contractions and drinking a beer and reading a book. After about an hour, the contractions slowed down and I was very sleepy from the beer. I called Rosalie back and told her that everything was okay. She lectured me about doing too much. I got off the phone and Keith lectured me about doing too much.
Today, I will spend my third wedding anniversary knitting and watching old episodes of The O.C. My body is sore and I have learned my lesson.
Filed under: Pregnancy
This being off work thing is pretty awesome. I get to take naps when I want to! The dishes get washed every day! I can read books! I can swim laps!I get to spend entire days sewing little wipes for my child’s butt!
That’s what I did today. I sewed 48 flannel diaper wipes. All day. It was surprisingly fun. Tomorrow: burp cloths.
I took some old flannel sheets and cut them to roughly the size of a disposable wipe, then surged two layers together to make a soft and durable wipe. My plan is to use this baby wipes warmer to store them in along with a home made wipes solution.
My baby’s tushie is going to be warm and pampered with flannel and essential oils and aloe and whatnot!
Filed under: Pregnancy
Scene: Cloverdale Farmer’s Market. Saturday night. Honey booth.
Me shifting around on a fishy smelling beach chair.
- Feet swollen
- Eggplant in teeth
- Random long stray hairs I neglected to shave sprouting from my armpits
- Tadzhiki stained maternity shirt
- Heavier than I have ever been before (Keith, “Wow, honey, you weight more than me!”)
During my second trimester, people would notice that I was pregnant and hold doors open for me and let me cut in line.
They’d say things like, “you shouldn’t be lifting that, let me get that for you”. I was always puzzled as they gently extricated the kicking, full-grown goat from my arms, or took the anvil I was carrying up the stairs. “I am NOT an invalid” I thought. I am perfectly capable of throwing in some laundry on my way to milk goats at six every morning and chase juvenile delinquents all day, rushing home to hang that laundry on the line and bake a pie before I got dinner in the oven so I could wrangle goats into stalls.
Then the heartburn started. And the swelling. And the shortness of the breathing. I stopped sleeping for more than 20 minutes at a time each night. Walking started to cause sharp pains (mysterious to my midwife) to stab me on either side of my belly button. I became an invalid. I don’t do invalid so well.
Then they cut my hours at work and took my coworker away and gave me her job to do on top of mine. Hmmm. I seem to not be able to breathe. Or keep my eyes open. Or write full sentences. Something has to give.
So I went to see a doctor, and he put me on medical leave until maternity leave begins. Starting now. So here I am, sitting at home, thinking about how I don’t have to go back to work tomorrow. Suddenly I can breathe a little better.
There is a stranger living inside my body who I am related to. I’ve never met this person, I don’t even know if he is a he or she is a she. Yet, I love this person fiercely. Sometime in October, we’ll be reunited for the first time and my life will implode. In a good way. Instead of feeding off me from the inside, he/she will feed off me from the outside. Am I the only person who thinks this is strange? Yes? Oh. Okay.
How about this? Our dog, Taz, has started humping adolescent pigs. She lovingly mounts them and slowly thrusts
as they root around under my fruit trees. When she has finished, she licks their faces. That’s probably not weird either.
Filed under: Pregnancy
Keith and Kate and bump, originally uploaded by dogmilque.
This was taken two weeks ago at Sean and Haley’s wedding. Two hours before I wrapped that shawl around my head and donned a North Face down vest under a massive windbreaker. Three hours before I was given some new nicknames, which included: Bag Lady, Babushka, and Afghan Soldier, About 5 hours before I waddled to the car for an hour nap before rounding up the drunkards to drive them home.
Nuggy has discovered something charming. He is filling out my uterus and can no longer do laps like he used to. He used to try to match his Mama lap for lap when I swam in the pool. Now he just streeeetches out his body sometimes. This feels little like, well, nothing comes to mind. But it makes the places where his feet and head push against my belly feel like they are being ripped. Just a little bit ripped.
I can no longer easily trudge up the hill to the goat pasture and wrangle one doe out of the enclosure while keeping the other goats in. I used to be really good at that. I can’t haul that fence around and hike up and down hills setting up new pasture either. I think I am done with that for this year.
I am officially 24 weeks. Some would call that 6 months. Pregnancy months are very confusing because when a woman reaches her due date, she is actually 10 months pregnant. So 24 weeks is 6 months, but my third trimester won’t start for another 3 weeks. Confused? I am.
We started weaning the baby goats which means they sleep in a separate stall at night and they cry non-stop for a few nights. I find myself responding differently to a baby goat’s cry than I used to. I know in my brain that they are fine and safe and fed, but I want to leap out of bed and comfort them. At five this morning, I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and went down to milk the does so that they could be reunited with their babies. Now I will eat a donut and go back to sleep for a while. That’s what freedom means to me. Happy Fourth!
*People keep telling me. Over and over. “Enjoy this time!” “You’ll never get to sit down again!” “You won’t read a book for another 5 years!” “You’ll never sleep in again for the rest of your life!”
Okay, okay, I get it. Pass the donuts.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Hi everybody! It was 105 yesterday and will be again today. And tomorrow. Did you hear that I am pregnant? I am glad that I am not 8 months pregnant in this heat, but still. Pa-regnant. We swam in a nice cool pool yesterday and today we’ll swim in a nice cool lake, so life isn’t that terrible. I do feel sometimes like I have been beaten up recently and that my feet have been injected with jelly and my insides are on fire and I wish I could poop. Pooping is nice, isn’t it? Like when you can do it every day? I used to poop every day at the same time of day and never thought about it. Not anymore!
I might feel like I have been beaten because I sleep now for a few hours every night sitting upright and sideways on the couch. Lanugo doesn’t like me to recline on my back (something about not being deprived of oxygen, blah blah blah, cry me a river, BABY). So I sleep contorted among pillows upright on my side. Sometimes with a large orange cat kneading my hip lovingly. If I lie down flat for too long, the camp stove in my belly roars to life and flames lick my tonsils.
But! We might have a blackberry crop this year if the heat doesn’t rise above 110 or so for the next couple of weeks. You have no idea how happy and excited this makes me. Jam, pies, tarts, cobblers and syrups, here we come! And swimming. Thank you Jesus for swimming. It really is the best invention.
Did you listen to Raffi as a kid? I did. I sang the hell out of Baby Beluga all the time when I was little. Lanugo reminds me of that song when he turns over in my belly. I sing it to him loudly and off tune. It’s sad that Keith’s only memory of Raffi is watching a video where Raffi strums a guitar while sliding down a slide singing, “Penis! Vagina!” and various other body parts. I think the song was about becoming comfortable with your body, but little serious Keith was horrified. We’ll have to get a Raffi CD for Lanugo and Keith can reacquaint himself with Raffi’s less shocking side.
Well, time to go. Baby needs waffles. With whipped cream and peaches.
