Life as a New Mom

A first-time mom adjusting to her new everything

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Invasion of the body…somethings

On Monday I had contractions.  Real ones, not Braxton-Hicks, but irregular.  I went to the doctor, got it confirmed and had a surprise cervix check.

Was not expecting it, and WHOA.  Now I know how a carton of ice cream feels when I dig a scoop into it.

The doctor even commented how low Baby’s head was: “The head is, like, RIGHT THERE.  I have to reach around it to get to your cervix…”  He forgot to mention to brace myself, Bridget.  My vagina has never been more thoroughly felt.

I had to rest Tuesday, and came back to work today, but we’ll see if they want me to stay – I’m still having a contraction every few hours of the painful persuasion, so I have no idea.  I do know it makes my big boss nervous.  I think he’d like it if I didn’t come back, but that’s not happening unless I have a note for bed rest so I get short-term disability.  The reality is that I can’t afford to go an additional 2 weeks with no pay, and I’ve allocated all my paid leave for when I planned to start FMLA leave.  We’ll see how that goes.

At least I’ll have an answer Friday, when I have another doctor’s appointment!  Something tells me my vagina will be invaded again, but the doctor will be a lady…maybe her fingers are smaller.



I really do have faith in my husband

Apparently my husband is convinced I think he’s going to kill our child.

Not through neglect or anything, but just normal stuff.  Like the way he feeds our kid, or puts Baby in the car seat, will ultimately result in death.

This is not true.

I actually have quite a bit of faith in my husband, who I certainly don’t know any better than, but because I asked if he was going to get the car seat installation verified at the fire station, if he was uncomfortable with how he did it or wanted to make sure, this translates into “Honey, I believe that through negligence you will kill our child inadvertently.”  Please note that I also said if he were cool with how he had done it, I was too and trusted him to do it correctly.  I chose to get mine verified because I wasn’t, and thank goodness because I did it wrong.  But I’ll be the first to tell you my spatial reckoning is crap, and I couldn’t tell if the darn seat was level with the ground or if the curve of the seat was throwing me off (the only building level we have is too long to fit where it needed to, so I had to eyeball it).

Net result was my husband saying, “I need you to be ok with the fact I’m not going to kill our kid, ok?”

Why yes, I can see why you would need that.  I’m chalking it up to his nerves and the fact he doesn’t often express them because I’m the one who’s doing the mood swings, thankyouverymuch.

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Hello again, panic

Would running into the street screaming like a banshee alter the perception of me in my neighborhood, I wonder?  Because I feel like it today.

I’m pretty sure I’m just going to have more and more moments of panic, but I can’t say I enjoy the ride.  Today’s hit when I realized I am in month 9, and there are 28 days until my due date.  That makes the whole thing seem more imminent that I’d previously considered, and I’m thinking that drugs should start NOW, as opposed to actual labor…

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Let’s talk more about your problems – dip?

Now that I’ve got less than a month to go, and no worries about Baby’s health to focus on, I am taking up a new hobby: dodging the question “Are you pregnant??”

I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t really started to show until now, and most people think I’m about 3 months along.  Go, go, gadget abdominal muscles.  But my parents raised me with the belief that it is never appropriate to comment on someone’s appearance unless they bring it up first.  I work with a population that habitually over-shares information and has less sense of personal boundaries, making it more important that I maintain strict professionalism.  As such, I do not, ever, discuss my health or personal life at work with students.

I understand that they’re excited and it’s not coming from a malicious place, but when you approach someone you only interact with professionally the exchange should not follow this script:

“Oh my, you’re PREGNANT!!!” with a hand outstretched to touch said person.

Those are the encounters I’ve been having.  I don’t know why so many labor under the mistaken idea that it’s acceptable to touch someone without their permission, but it’s the surest way to get me to move in the opposite direction and ignore you if I can.

So now I try to steer conversations to what the other person needs/wants and gloss over their question, hoping they’ll take the hint.  The good news is that I only have 2 weeks left of work before I go on leave, so the dodgeball will end soon.

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More ultrasounds

I suppose I should feel lucky that I get so many pictures from ultrasounds, since I’m now on number 5, for my dog to eat after they’re left on the counter.  But the flip-side is that they were all for issues.  I don’t know if women who say they wish they had more ultrasounds have thought this through.  More ultrasounds means they think there’s something wrong, or potentially wrong, and they want to keep an eye on it.  I don’t know many people who would take problems in exchange for more pictures, if they had the choice.

But I had my second in-depth ultrasound Friday to check on the fetal cyst.  Aside from receiving the jaw-dropping bill for the last one (clocking in at just under $675 AFTER insurance), it was a good experience all around.  The cyst is much smaller (by half!), and I don’t need to go in any longer for monitoring.  It’s such a relief; they will do an ultrasound after baby is born to check and see how it’s doing then, but it’s so “small as to be insignificant” at this point.

Bonus good news: baby is large for my due date, so it is now a bit sooner than before.  This means I get to be done sooner!  And leave work sooner, since that’s getting difficult to get up at 6:00 to go to everyday…

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Pregnancy Envy…I has it.

Normally when I hear about pregnancy envy, it’s in one context: women who want children but are unable to conceive.  Today I realized I have pregnancy envy as well, in a different form.  I am extremely envious of every woman I meet (in face-to-face contact, or over the internet) whose due date is before mine.  I want that woman’s due date.  I want it to be mine, so I can be done.

I am so damn tired of getting up, going to work, coming home, heaving myself out of seats, and being in constant pain, that if I could somehow steal a due date that’s sooner, I would stick some unfortunate pregnant woman with more weeks.  It’s terrible, but at this point I’ve got countdowns of how many days left I have to work, and days until I’m due and they are just not moving fast enough.

I should mention that I’ve always been an “eat the food you hate first” type of person; in college, I did my entire semester’s worth of homework (for all classes) in the first 3 weeks.  Procrastinating doesn’t work for me, and if you’re on time then you’re late.  I wouldn’t have thought before now that my biggest challenge would be dealing with my inability to complete this pregnancy faster.  Yes, I know it’s not good for babies to be born prematurely, but at this point, I don’t care very much.  Intellectually I know it’s for the best, but that does not stop the daily surges of “hurry up and get this crap over”.

And the platitudes?  The ones that go “yes, it’s a tough last leg, but at the end you’ll have a new life and it makes it all worth it!”?  LIES.  Those sentiments don’t make anyone feel better – they’re just trying to psych themselves into the last inning, when all they want is a designated hitter.

Maybe I’ll luck out and find out at my ultrasound on Friday that they can move my date up.  Christmas could totally come early.