Baby gear

I am learning, as I prepare to bring this baby home, that there is a whole world of baby gear out there, with weird names, and if you're pregnant people will talk to you as if you somehow inherently know what this stuff means or what it does. My personal favorite? "Stroller muff." Apparently it is some sort of thing you put around the stroller to keep the baby warm in the winter. I personally can't say it without giggling. It sounds like another term for MILF to me.

The final countdown

So I'm 36 weeks now. The last time I went to the doctor, she said it's basically on. Meaning I could really go into labor at any time. I'm hoping/praying my body holds out until at least 38 weeks. We can't move into our new place until Monday, which means I have no nursery to set up. I also need to wash everything I have been given for the baby since we have had a mouse infestation these last two weeks. (Viva NYC.)

 On the other hand, I'm over being pregnant. I am so huge that I can't bend over; tying my shoes--even when I put my feet in my lap--is a trial. I no longer walk or even waddle; I am lumbering around like Marge Gunderson in Fargo. And has anyone seen my ankles? Because they're gone. I have heard this happens to many pregnant women, but I just never assumed it would happen to me. Then, the other day, I looked down at my feet and exclaimed "Holy shit!" It is really weird looking. Another thing: I leak urine every time I cough or produce a hearty giggle. It's all glamouroussexyfuntimes up in here.

My to-do list is getting shorter, but I still have to finalize a pediatrician, get a few important remaining things for the baby (furniture, baby carrier, etc) and also pack my go-bag for the hospital. Oh, and take an infant CPR class. Oh yeah, and MOVE. On New Year's Eve. Can I tell you how stressful this has been? When I think about how much I've done and how much I still have to do, I think--as I often have during this pregnancy--of "Raising Arizona." In particular, I identify with the scene where Frances McDormand and her creepy husband go to visit H.I. and Ed, and Frances' character is drilling Ed about all the stuff she needs to do. "Who is his pediatrician? You don't have a pediatrician? You have to do that this instant!" and "Has he gotten his dip-tet yet? He HAS to get his dip-tet!" Cut to Ed looking forlorn and overwhelmed, and mumbling weakly to H.I., "We need to do that, honey." That's pretty much how I've felt for the last two months.

And when I think about how much I have already done in the calendar month of December, it makes me want to lie the fuck down and sleep for 20 hours. In the month of December, I have worked my usual 50-60 hours a week (with the exception of this last week), hosted my in-laws for a weekend, shopped for Christmas and mailed presents, designed & ordered & mailed 30+ Christmas cards, prepared a full Christmas dinner, sent out thank-yous for my shower, closed on an apartment, hired movers, and started packing for said move.

And there's still so much left to do...

It's about to get real.

So I am starting to get REALLY excited about the whole birth thing. I cannot wait to hold my baby. I am already at the stage where I can feel body parts (though I can’t quite identify them, which makes me feel lame compared to all the other expectant moms in my various birth classes who are like, “Ooh, his butt’s over here!”).

On the other hand, I want the little guy or gal to stay inside as long as possible, if for no other reason than New York real estate. We just closed on an apartment purchase last week, which was the culmination of a long and incredibly stressful process, and we did it in the nick of time, since we have to be out of our rental apartment by the end of this month anyway. It’s also a huge reason why I haven’t been able to do nearly as much baby prep as I wanted to, since there is simply nowhere to put stuff yet. I hate the term “nesting,” but when I get in there in a week I’m going to nest like a motherfucker right up until my little guy or gal is born. (Did I mention that we are moving on New Year's Eve? And that we are moving in the same day the previous owners are moving out? Because moving isn't stressful enough on its own...)

Speaking of whether it’s a guy or gal, my husband has taken to calling the baby “Hermie,” in case it turns out to be a little bit of both. I am not amused!

I also just want to do all the preparation I’ve been told to do in my numerous birthing classes, including packing for the hospital, doing laundry (you have to wash all their stuff in special detergent), setting up a changing table, buying a breastpump/rocker/other stuff I still need, etc. 

Speaking of birth classes, I just finished my last hypnobirthing class last week (it had been postponed because of Sandy). I am convinced that it probably will not help me, because I am just too cynical and neurotic and cannot allow my brain/psyche to let go in the way that you’re supposed to. My husband attempted to do hypnosis on me and it was an utter failure.

Also, at the end of the day, I just think it’s too hippie-dippie. One chick in my class mentioned that she wants to do “placenta encapsulation,” which is apparently a thing that people do now because they don’t have enough other shit to spend money on. You pay some company to grind up your placenta and put it in capsules, then you take these capsules. According to the chick in my class, they are supposed to help prevent postpartum depression, which sounds like bullshit to me. Also, she explained, “We are the only mammals who don’t eat our placenta after birth.” Well, other mammals also eat their own shit, so that’s not really a good reason to do it in my book.

Oh, and I really hated the anti-hospital propaganda they kept shoving down our throats in the class (Don’t get me started on “The Business of Being Born.”). Yes, there are bad things about the medical model of birth care that ought to be updated (such as putting women on a clock when they arrive and rushing them to get induced before it’s necessary), but that doesn’t mean home birth is the answer, either. (At least it isn’t the answer for me, though I do understand why some women feel like it’s a better option for them.) For me, I’d rather end up with an unnecessary c-section that resulted in a healthy baby than indulge my fantasy of a perfect home birth and then wind up in a situation where my kid died because an emergency situation arose and there weren’t adequate medical resources around. I could never, ever live with myself if that happened. And I live in Brooklyn; the nearest good hospitals are a ways away.

Anyway, I decided to take another birth class for good measure; this one was offered at the hospital. I liked it much, much better than the hippie birthing class, even though there were things about it that bothered me too. But the best part was that the instructor looked, sounded, talked and acted EXACTLY like Jane Lynch. It was actually a little disconcerting. It was really as if a celebrity showed up to teach us childbirth preparation. I kept expecting her to whip out a microphone. 

The funny thing is, we walked in late, and we walked in right as the instructor (who was sitting in a chair facing the class with her back to the door) was hiking her legs up next to her head to demonstrate a common birthing position. I do like to make an entrance. 

Anyway, it was totally overwhelming in terms of the sheer volume of information, and I don't think we are going to use it all (I'll probably try to use the hippie-birthing breathing instead of the Lamaze breathing), but it was kind of nice to hear them talk about stuff that just never got brought up in the Hippie Birthing class. For example: "You may want an Epidural. It will not kill your baby. Here's what happens when you get one, and here's when to ask for one." Or: "We really aim for you not to have a c-section. But in some cases, if the baby is breach, you will have to have one. Here's exactly what happens." We also got a tour of the hospital, which looks nice enough. 

Of course, I still walked away feeling panicked at all the stuff I STILL have to do (pick a pediatrician, take an infant CPR class, order nursery furniture after we move, oh yeah, and pack and move everything I own). I swear, I feel like I'm gonna have this kid and then instantly keel over. 

Still--like I said. I am really excited to meet this baby.

I love my lady friends!

This weekend, my very sweet and lovely mother-in-law and my amazing ladyfriend P. threw me the most fun baby shower. Something like 17 of my closest girlfriends came together to shower me with love, presents and good wishes. My heart feels so full. It was at an adorable French restaurant in Brooklyn, near my home; we ate delicious brunch goodies and macarons (which my mother-in-law special ordered and trekked to Manhattan to pick up just for the event) and just visited and hung out.

Oh, and I opened my presents--so many wonderful things! I even got a handmade blanket, and there's another one on the way! I am so relieved--I could actually take care of my baby with everything we got; I no longer have to worry that I am going to have to diaper my child with old newspapers and bathe him or her with dish soap.

And it was just a beautiful reminder of what truly special friends I have. I am a very lucky woman indeed.

(It was also a really nice diversion from the news. I honestly can't even pay attention to it right now.)

Emotions in motion

So everyone who's ever been pregnant always talks about the hormones, and how you are totally irrational and uber-emotional all the time, and this whole time I've been thinking, "Well, I have noticed a slight difference, but nothing major." I thought I was pretty cool and level-headed for a pregnant chick.

Well, that's changed. I really first noticed it this week, when I spontaneously burst into tears of joy and excitement over the fact that I'm going to meet my sweet little baby in a few weeks. But no sooner did that lovely (if slightly bewildering) moment pass before I experienced a new emotion--paralyzing fear over the fact that said sweet little baby will be completely dependent on me to keep it alive. ME, of all people! Now, I'm no crackhead, but I did manage to wake up the other day, get dressed, head into work, walk into my office and go about my day for two straight hours before I'd realized I'd put my pants on backwards. On some levels, I am accomplished and organized, but then I can be a total dingbat. I could totally see myself being one of those idiots who leaves the car seat on top of the car and then drives off, or something like that. (I don't actually own a car, but you get the idea.)

Anyway, so those two emotions rolled over me in the space of about five minutes. These next few weeks ought to be interesting.

In praise of maternity jeans

Can I just say? Maternity jeans are the BOMB.

Seriously. Why can't I wear them all the time? Why can't they make them for non-pregnant chicks? Basically, the denim stops at your hipbone, and then there's just a stretchy band that sheaths your torso and holds them in place. No muffin top, no tight waistband...yeah, I know, no shape, but who cares? They are sooooooo comfortable.

You know what else I love? Maternity workout DVDs. When else can you work out lying down? (Well, and not be encased in some Pilates-style medieval rack-looking torture device?)