A Month of Sundays?

First of all, I refer you to this website for updates on my current condition: http://haveyouhadthatbabyyet.com

That's correct, I'm still waiting around for something to happen (something amazing, I guess!) In the meantime, I'm "enjoying" maternity leave as much as a person can enjoy being off work while in a constant state of hyper-awareness about one's body and whether it may, at any moment, send one into spasms of pain/release amniotic fluid from between one's legs. I am convinced that if I'm one of the 15% of women whose labor begins with ruptured membranes, it will start while I'm standing in a check-out line someplace, partially because I feel like I'm spending all of my precious free time in check-out lines. They really do move so much slower during the weekdays. It's crazy.

Besides rolling my eyes in check-out lines (all I need are file folders and pens! I'm not setting up an entire home office like the woman ahead of me! Why does she have to order furniture from the only open cashier? There should be a dedicated furniture-ordering desk so people like me don't have to wait for 20 minutes to buy their file folders and pens!), I'm treating this downtime like I would an idle Sunday afternoon. There are chores to be done around the house that I've neglected for months, and they're really satisfying to get done. I've dropped off pictures to be framed, cleaned the bathroom including the molding, and any moment now I'm going to sit down and write the thank-you notes from my baby shower, I swear. Yesterday I even made this and it was very tasty:

The problem is what will happen when I run out of chores and have to decide between starting a new, honest-to-goodness project and catching up on reruns of "ER" and "Designing Women." My next doctor's appointment isn't until Friday, so I won't know for another two days whether all of this hip pain and general physical discomfort has actually resulted any measurable progress towards labor. Over the weekend I swear the baby dropped even further - my bump looks like it's about to enter a "how low can you go?" limbo contest and I really think I have a baby head crammed into my pelvis since my waddle went from decent to comical - but there's been no more bleeding since last week, no identifiable mucus plug, no regularly-spaced contractions, nothing. So we're still waiting, and making pies. I think today's selection will involve pears...

Okay, Now I'm Just Making Stuff Up

Baby boy and I appear to be doing fine. He likes it when I eat sweet things (at least, if one can interpret kicking and flailing limbs as "I like this") and I'm doing fine as well (my ankles aren't even that swollen!) And he's even been vertex - a.k.a. head down, the preferred position for a vaginal birth - for some weeks now. I was so proud of him when they told me that after my last scan, especially since they said he's so big now that he's unlikely to move out of his current A+ configuration. I just knew that my kid was a GENIUS.

Except... on Thursday, he was really really active in there. Huge, sweeping motions that were hard to interpret. And when I went to bed that night, I spent some time lying on my back and poking around trying to figure out what the various lumps of baby that I could feel through my belly might indicate. Is this a head? Is this a bottom? Maybe! Probably! Sure, why not?

Based on this highly unscientific analysis, I am worried that the baby is no longer vertex but actually transverse. Or am I? He still has time to turn, if he really is transverse. And so what if he stays transverse for the rest of the pregnancy? It means I'll have to have a C-section. Big deal. (Yes, yes, I recognize that this would be a very big deal to a woman planning a minimal-intervention vaginal birth; I am more on the side of "there's no good way to get this baby out of me, so let's just see what happens.")

I have an OB appointment coming up this week and an MFM appointment with the fancy ultrasound next week, so we'll have our answer soon. In the meantime, if anyone wants to place any bets, just let me know...

Linea Nigra and Stretch Marks

Sigh. I knew I was unlikely to be in the minority of women who escape stretch marks in pregnancy, but I had high hopes. After all, I hit 30 weeks without incident, but I knew I was on borrowed time since evidently they often don't show up until the 3rd trimester. And, sure enough, there is some weirdness happening to my bump now that wasn't there a week ago.

It still isn't a traditional stretch mark per se - the long jagged lines that are already all over my womanly curves from past weight gain are what I think of as "classic" stretch marks. This is more of a stretch spot. It's an area about the size of a pencil eraser, red and shiny, approximately a centimeter above my distended belly button. And when I say I'm getting a linea nigra, it too doesn't have the presentation I had expected. It didn't start coming in until the 7th month, and it's slowly getting darker from the bottom up. Honestly, my bump is so big now that I rarely see it, although that makes it kind of startling when I do glance in the mirror.

Between the line, the weirdness of my belly button - which is only partially an outie, and partially a flat area of some funky-looking skin - and this new red patch, I will say that my belly is beginning to truly not look like my belly anymore. Up until now it was still recognizably mine, just bigger, but now the alien takeover is moving into a new phase. The fact that it often moves in unpredictable ways of its own accord doesn't really hurt the general out-of-body feeling it has going for it. (Seriously, what are you doing in there, unborn child? Redecorating?) And I can't wait to reread this post in a few weeks or months and see how much more it has changed!

The Quickening (Not a Horror Movie, I Swear)

A few weeks ago, lying in bed drifting off to sleep with my hand on my belly hoping against hope for some sign that the baby was still alive in there, the thought occurred to me that once the kid starts kicking, he or she (hopefully) won't stop. Drowsily, I wondered if that would be annoying. But it'll probably be balanced out by how cute it is, right?

Well, I am here to tell you that our baby has started kicking me. It is indeed highly reassuring and adorable. It is also at times distracting and, yes, just a wee bit annoying. (Sorry, unborn child! I really do love you a whole lot, I promise. It would just be easier to concentrate on work if we could coordinate a bit when you decide to dance a jig. For instance, while I'm sitting at my desk responding to emails - fine. In the middle of giving a PowerPoint presentation - less helpful.) Yes, I know that it's way more distracting to have a screaming baby on my hip than feel a few wriggles in my belly, but I don't intend to give many work presentations while holding our child once he/she emerges into the world... at least, that's the plan! I'm getting visions of Diane Keaton at the beginning of Baby Boom when she brings her daughter to the office and hilarity ensues.

What does it feel like? Good question. I would say it's one of those things that you'll just know when it happens to you, but that's totally a lie. The first time I felt something weird in my belly that was remotely distinguishable from gas bubbles or other general digestive activity was early in the morning at 18w3d. It was before I had eaten anything and there was nothing else going on besides - tap. Tap tap. Hmm, I thought. Nothing happened at 18w4d, but at 18w5d in the middle of the afternoon I felt the same sort of tapping. It happened briefly and then disappeared. 18w6d I made a strategic mistake and ate a buffalo chicken sandwich for lunch; any tapping the rest of the day was rather obscured by the heartburn and general gastrointestinal protest that followed. But 19w0d was full of activity. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap. Pause. Wriggle. Pause. Tap wriggle tap tap.

The other thing that made me think it was the baby moving was the location. At this point, my uterus is a pretty darn obvious structure within my belly, especially when I lie down. And this is the only part of my story that does come close to suggesting a horror movie (since I think we can all agree that "The Quickening" would make a great title) - the taps and wriggles were coming from inside the uterus! And then they turned on the radio and heard about an escaped serial killer and they found a hook on the door handle! But no, seriously, it's hard to ignore this giant thing in my body that's making me resign myself to wearing only maternity clothes from here on out. And when that thing starts moving a bit, it's hard to miss.

So there you have it! Now, instead of wondering appointment to appointment if the baby has died, I get to wonder every few hours "Hmm, is it still alive in there? When was the last time I felt anything?" But I'm still really glad that we've passed this milestone, right around the time I would have expected it. Strong work, baby! Keep it up!

Chillin' with Pregnant Women... When You Are a Pregnant Woman

I spent the early part of this week at a work conference, and of the 150+ people there, at least three others were ladies sporting the same "spring casual/swallowed a basketball" look that I have also lately adopted. Their bumps were varying sizes and hard to mistake for anything else, but I'm totally paranoid about asking a woman if she's pregnant unless I see an actual baby emerging from her, so I managed to say... nothing. I talked with them all at various times, I was polite and friendly, we discussed business, and not once did I ever mention that we might both have a fetus or two growing in our respective bellies. But, then, neither did they. Which leads me to a few observations:

- I'm still kind of shy about all this pregnancy stuff.
- I think it's not related to the infertility/IVF, actually. I mean, best case scenario, I would have been approaching them to join as members of the "we recently had unprotected sex!" club. Ummm....
- I feel like my belly is huge, but it's clearly not so big that I appear unequivocally pregnant (yet).
- Other pregnant women are also reluctant to ask someone else if she's expecting, perhaps because they're equally sensitive to the issue.
- What are we really going to say to each other? "Hey, you look like you're knocked up. Are your boobs covered in grotesque blue veins?" "Yes! How did you know? I'm also constipated, let's talk about that!" I ended up talking about the pregnancy most with women who had young children, who were offering advice on daycare and breastfeeding and very well-intentioned childcare stuff that I was able to nod and smile and take with several grains of salt. It seemed easier that way.
- Or, maybe I'm just a wimp and should have said something.

In other milestones, I had a very distant acquaintance actually break into a conversation I was having with a friend and say "Congratulations! Was it planned?" I was too shocked to do anything other than answer her with a firm "Yes." And then, classically, I came up with about 50 assertive-verging-on-nasty responses to her question right as she was walking away. Oh well. Other opportunities will come up in the future, I have no doubt.

Telling People You're Pregnant: Lessons from Tina Fey

In addition to being With Child this past week, I have also been With Rhinovirus. (Translation = I had a cold.) And while usually I would approach a week of sniffling and sneezing with a whole arsenal of drugs to dull the pain, make me lightheaded, and knock me out so I can sleep through the night, this time I went au naturel. It was pretty miserable. From now on, whenever I am reading my historical fiction (translation = romance novels) and daydreaming about living in a simpler time, I need someone to remind me: all of the people wearing those lovely flouncy dresses had no access to NyQuil. Forget modern dentistry, anesthesia, deodorant, etc. When you are up all night sneezing, you will do unspeakable things for some NyQuil. Well, I considered some, anyway.

But last week was not only defined by my prodigious tissue consumption. It was also the week in which I told people I'm pregnant - not only the close friends and family who were notified of the whole ongoing  infertility saga by email or on the phone, but the world at large. I told my work colleagues, I told several acquaintances, I went to a party in a maternity dress and made passing references to "my due date," and by and large it went really well. It feels good to have things out in the open, but I was amused at the range of responses I got. There was my favorite:

:::sounds of hyperventilation through the phone line::: "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh! I can't believe it! Oh my gosh! This is such big news!"

And my least favorite:

"Oh, I knew you were pregnant. I saw that you were starting to get a little belly a month ago."

I would characterize the first response as pure joy, which was wonderful and very much appreciated. But the second example was really ridiculous, because first of all, no you didn't. I didn't have a little belly a month ago. A month ago, I was still eating the equivalent of one string cheese per day and desperately supplementing my diet with ginger or peppermint tea. All of my clothes still fit and the scale was telling me I'd actually lost a few pounds. And secondly, WTF? You can't muster up a "congratulations" at the beginning of that bodysnarking sentence?

Initially I rolled my eyes, but when I thought about it a bit more, the person behind response #2 actually let on more than I suspect she wanted to with her comments. First of all, she has a young daughter and went on and on about how easy it was to conceive at the time of her pregnancy, but despite dropping giant hints about wanting to have a sibling last year, nothing's happened on that front for some months now. And she's always had some serious issues with her weight, too, which might explain her supposed scrutiny of my own body. In Bossypants, Tina Fey talks about the various things people have said to her over the years about her facial scar and how they often reveal more about the question-asker than anything else: for instance, the person who wondered aloud if her attacker had "marked" her as a child so he'd be able to find her later in life. (Creepy suggestion, dude!) I think the same thing is happening here. To Snarky McBellyscrutinizer, I'm guessing that my pregnancy was a way for her to address her own body insecurity and, yes, feel a bit better about her own possible fertility issues. And who among us hasn't been in the same position? Hell, I'm wearing maternity jeans right now and I still wince when I hear someone talking about being pregnant. But I'm polite when I hear those announcements. And I always was. I can't control what people say to me, but I can control my response, which I hope reads simply as "I'm so happy for you!" And then: move on. Change it up. Find another topic.

Speaking of which, how 'bout those Dolphins?!?

I Wrote a Poem About Maternity Clothes

Recently, I was forced to confront an undeniable fact:

My pants did not close. Not on their own, not with a hair tie, not in a muffin-toppy kind of way, not with the assistance of a pair of pliers while lying flat on the floor, not at all. So, skipping and whistling like characters in a Disney movie, off we went to the maternity store. Which is conveniently located next door to a restaurant that serves, among other things, excellent - and huge - burgers. I can't imagine a dining establishment more appropriate for elastic-waist pants.

When we got home from our shopping trip, I had to make room in the closet for my roomy new purchases. It was bittersweet to put away clothing that I love wearing but know I won't be able to fit into for some time to come, and I started to think about Goodnight Moon (a book we're obviously going to have to purchase for the little one if we can't find our own vintage copies!) So I wrote this:

Goodnight jeans and goodnight tank tops,
Goodnight shorts and too-tight flip flops.

Goodnight stilettos and boots with heels,
Goodnight dresses that made me squeal.

Goodnight button-down shirts and blazers,
Goodnight pants made perfect by tailors.

Goodnight skirts with nipped-in waists,
Goodnight business suits never my taste.

Goodnight Spanx and B-cup bras,
Goodnight shirts that gave my mother pause.

Goodnight trousers that close with a button,
Goodnight anything not produced in cotton.

Goodnight things I love to wear,
Goodnight clothing everywhere.

Celebrity Pregnancy Watch #MillionBajillion

There was a time, many years ago, when I thought becoming famous and having my picture in People magazine was a worthwhile goal. I even saw it as a kind of rite of passage - when I got older, and I could afford to buy platform shoes like the Spice Girls wore, I too would have a shot at that kind of fame.

As I got older, even though I remained an (ahem) avid consumer of celebrity news, I began to thank my lucky stars that I wasn't being followed by paparazzi every time I left the house. It's not that I often forget to brush my hair or get caught doing the walk of shame in a party dress in broad daylight, but I do like to hold on to a small amount of privacy. Especially when my belly is starting to swell into something that looks much more like a giant muffintop than a cute pregnant bump - I'm very, very glad that there are no photographers following me around to be part of a Bumpwatch! story.

So I have compassion for the celebrities who are pregnant now, in addition to a fascination with how these women are experiencing the same baffling and humbling gestational process that I'm going through. And now that we're getting to the point that a normal non-hemorrhaging expectant mother might announce her pregnancy, I think I've decided on my celebrity pregnancy twin. Let's run through the possible candidates first:

Drew Barrymore. An early frontrunner, but her ultrasound pictures in February indicated that she's probably much farther along than me. Still, I have to give it up for a fellow Saltine-lover.

Snooki. Also farther along than me, but I totally get where she's coming from in this tweet, plus I was wearing that exact outfit just yesterday!

Vanessa Lachey. May I present to you: Exhibit A, Mrs. Lachey enjoying a fresh 'n' tasty bag of Pirate's Booty. And, Exhibit B, my own nearly-identical bag of Pirate's Booty. She's definitely due earlier than me, but it's good to see that the 'Booty has such a following among pregnant ladies.

Tori Spelling. Yeah, no. As much as I enjoyed reading sTORI Telling (and I did, oh I did), she's on her fourth child and got pregnant a month after the birth of her youngest daughter. I think if I ever met her we'd have plenty to talk about, but bonding over similar conception stories is out.

Melissa Joan Hart. A late addition to the list, announcing her news just yesterday, I love seeing Clarissa so happy. But it will be her third child, so maybe we're not exactly on the same path in life (yet?)

Reese Witherspoon. Holy A-List, Batman! Reese was the frontrunner for a while because she appears to only be a few weeks farther along than me, there are whispers that this might not have been the easiest process for her, and - like me - she has yet to officially confirm her news with the world.

But the winner is...

Anna Paquin! She announced last night that she's having her first child with Stephen Moyer. If she's announcing now, she's probably due around when I am - maybe a little earlier than me, but I have this whole "you're likely to have an early delivery" thing that might even us out. Plus we have so much in common - she was born in Canada and I have visited Canada, and she won an Oscar and I frequently watch the Oscars ceremony on TV. But! This will be her first child, and she's exactly my age, so I think I'm ready to declare victory here. Anna, if you ever read this, a million congratulations! Let me know when you want to set up a Skype date for mocktails and bump comparisons. May your pregnancy be less eventful than mine, and I can't wait to see your shockingly beautiful baby join the world.

Finally - if you are a pregnant celebrity and I've left you off this list, my deepest apologies. And if you are a celebrity who is due in mid-late October and has managed to stay out of the news cycle so far, congratulations to you as well!

Pants, Puking, and Prayers

Pants
They aren't fitting too well anymore. I'm down to one pair of jeans (besides my PajamaJeans™ - no judging) and ~3 pairs of work pants. I have a few skirts that still fit, but I think I'm hiding the bump better in pants because everybody is distracted by my belt buckle and loose shirt and the sweater or jacket I'm wearing over it. That is, assuming I've eaten recently; first thing in the morning they zip up pretty well but then once I have a meal in my belly they are noticeably tighter. I suppose I could just not eat and hang onto my current wardrobe for a little while longer, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of this whole endeavor, right? I have told myself I won't buy any maternity clothes until we get a good report at my next appointment on April 25th, so we'll see how this goes.

Puking
I am pleased to report that the month of April has remained puke-free, knock on wood. However, I came about as close as I ever do on Saturday night driving back from Titanic 3D. (Again - stop it with the judging!) I was fine right up until we got in the car and then a wave of nausea hit me with about the same force as the iceberg that caused the actual ship to sink. I was going down by the head and fast, and I have no idea how I kept up the pretense that everything was fine until we said goodbye to our friends and got home. Eventually the feeling passed, but damn, this morning sickness thing is not over yet by a long shot. Overall I'm still feeling much better than I did earlier in the pregnancy, however, so I'm very grateful for that.

Prayers
Not for me (although positive vibes sent across the astral plane are always welcome and will be returned, I promise!) For several months now I've been following the story of Mare and Reid's quadruplets on her blog "Never A Dull Moment." And I have been devastated beyond words by her most recent updates - after a complicated early delivery, she has lost three daughters in recent days. I am sending prayers to every deity I can think of, and then some, for her and her family. I wish there were more I could do to help.