I firmly believe that during the birth of a baby, a woman has every right to insist on any means available to limit the pain she experiences. If it’s safe for her and the baby, why not? This pregnancy, my attitude was no different and I was asking for an epidural from the minute the pain became more intense. In fact, I even may have yelled and screamed about one a time or two.

My doctor is kind of old school. His father before him was an OB and my doctor is now easily in his late 40’s or early 50’s. Throughout my pregnancy, he exhibited some of these old-fashioned values. Not in the major stuff, he had the best equipment and did all the necessary testing, but in the little stuff. For example, when I had a cold he suggested I avoid OTC medications and stick with “good old-fashioned chicken soup.”

A couple of weeks prior to when I went into labor, we discussed how my previous labor and delivery went, including my love of the epidural. My doctor went on to suggest to me that I try to avoid an epidural this time. He said that I will find I have an easier recovery. I cataloged that information in the back of my mind but was not convinced. I know he has seen a lot of patients, but how could he know if experiencing all the pain of labor can be offset by a quicker recovery?
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On Tuesday November 27th around 5am I woke up for my hourly trip to the bathroom. A 50 lb baby really takes its toll on your bladder…. Anyway, as I rocked and rolled myself out of bed (surely comic relief if anyone had seen it) and stood up I had the strange feeling maybe I didn’t make it to the bathroom. It wasn’t a lot, but enough to know that something was out of place. I realized that it was possible that my water had broken so I ran (ok, slowly waddled) downstairs to the computer to do an internet search for the signs of someone’s water breaking (yes, I’ve done this before and no, I’m not an idiot). Since I wasn’t having contractions, I took the advice to lay down for 20 minutes then stand back up to see if it happened again. It did. Twice. That combined with the smell of “Comet” (yes, apparently amniotic fluid smells like Comet. I didn’t believe either it but it’s true) pretty much was the proof I needed. So, I jumped in the shower - there was no way I was going to the hospital not clean.
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CANKLES!

I can’t believe it.

I got up from my desk to use the bathroom…for the gazillionth time this evening only to look down and discover them.

They were hard to miss.

And they are eating my feet.

Ones ankles should not be wider than the ball of ones foot….

Seriously…

Isn’t it bad enough everything else on my body has grown to epic proportions, now the last body parts that had retained some semblance of NOT THE MICHELIN MAN has been lost.

Pretty soon I’ll be a pool of mushy goo….

It’s really sad that I’ve come to saying this…but I miss my feet.

A Russian woman holds the record for having the most children. Between 1725 and 1765, she was pregnant 27 times and had 69 children.

My pregnancy newsletter from BabyCenter.com indicated this fact.

I can’t even imagine. First off, that time span is 40 years….that had to be unheard of back then, especially because a lot of people barely lived that long. Second, imagine Christmas…it must cost them a fortune. I wonder how many grandkids she had?

Today I had a pre-natal checkup. The kind where they weight you, take your BP, listen to the baby, measure the bump and ask if you are ok and if the baby is kicking. Pretty simple easy and straightforward…well, except for the peeing in a cup. C’mon…it’s hard enough to do without a 40lb bump in your middle, let alone now…and with those TINY cups….I’m glad their soap dispenser is always full!

Anyhow, as I was sitting in the waiting room and Jake was shocking other women in the waiting room with his reading skills I overheard (well, you really couldn’t help it…she talked LOUD) this woman act completely and utterly shocked to know that her due date was 3 weeks away. At first I thought she was just so tired and out of it that it snuck up on her quickly. I was wrong. She then made a phone call and incredulously informed the person on the other end that she was due in three weeks so she better get to the store to buy some baby stuff. “I’m in shock,” she said. Then she said “I’ll have to call Pastor and tell him I just found out I’m due in three weeks.”
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I’d like to take a moment to gripe about something.

Now, I know how shocking it would be for anyone who knows me to picture me - me - actually complaining about something (that was sarcasm, by the way) but it must be said.

The people who design maternity clothes are demented. Anyone who would cause (additional) undue suffering upon a pregnant woman is obviously mentally ill. If you read any sort of descriptions or recommendations about maternity clothes, they tell you that you buy your pre-pregnancy size because the maternity clothes are designed to accommodate the extra weight. Yea, maybe on the moon. I’m AT LEAST 2 sizes up in maternity clothes than my pre-pregnancy size and they’re even too tight. Nothing like having to pull your sleeves and pant legs out of your sweaty body crevices during a meeting because they’re too tight and keep creeping up into places that shouldn’t even exist to begin with.
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Today I got my weekly pregnancy email from Americanbaby.com.

This week is supposedly week 33 of 40 for me, and I enjoy reading their little updates on where the baby is currently as far a development goes.

They also have a blurb about “your body” and the changes it is likely going through for this week.

Part of “your body” for this week reads as follows:
Each breast gains one pound in fat and specialized tissue.
This week, maybe they did, but over the entire pregnancy so far I swear I’m looking at - at least - 5 lbs EACH! I know some women enjoy this added enhancement to their figure but some of us JUST DON”T NEED IT!

They simply don’t make a 38PPP!