When I read this blog sometimes I think that you loyal readers (I won't dare to call you "fans" as Mike's head is likely to explode) probably think that living here in the Green Machine renovation is just plainly no fun. Not true! We manage to have a great time here, when we aren't freaking out about everything there is to do with BY, the renovation struggles, paying for the renovation struggles, learning our way around, the new jobs... yep, it's just downright peachy really.
But yesterday was a special day around here: Mike's 33rd birthday. Frankly, with all the other stuff going on, there was no way that I was going to be able to pull off something extra special for him, especially since I had to work all day.
Now, poor Mike has been a pretty good trooper throughout this second half of the pregnancy. He gives back rubs when I need them, has been taking over the chores while I've hauled myself back to work, and even decided to dabble in home and office design. (Even bringing home wallpaper samples the other day!)
But the fact of the matter is that the third trimester is evolutionarily planned the same way as the first: to be painful.
The way I figure it, the first trimester is especially painful so that we women will remember that there's a little group of cells in there that needs our attention in order to develop properly. Since it's so small and doesn't move yet, the best it can do is make your GI track go in reverse and give you the general sensation of being run over by a train on a daily basis.
The second trimester heralds the beginning of the honeymoon period -- the nausea goes away right at the same time you lose your waist, so there's little chance you'll forget that there's a baby in there and smear Vitamin A all over your body or something. But in general you can eat again, move around without seasickness, and act like you are enjoying the beauty status of pregnancy. And sometimes you get to feel it moving around, which to some is sorta like a scene out of Alien but to others is comforting.
In fact, if I could have been suspended in like the 24th week of pregnancy, I would have been a-okay. I felt pretty awesome... for like 3 weeks. Not to mention that people start telling you that "your life is about to change" (Huh?? I sorta liked my life before!), and you have to start worrying about which car seat to choose, what kind of child care to pay through the nose for, where to send the kid to college, whether she's going to have tattoos or bellyrings, etc. Suddenly, it feels like it would be better for everyone involved if the baby would just stay in there forever. I mean, it's not too painful, you don't really need a waist anyway (I mean, it was convenient to hang my pager there, but I've adjusted to sticking it in my coat pocket), and it just seems like such a hassle after it comes out.
But then you get to the third trimester. I can't say I've had it all that badly so far, not having pedal edema, sciatica, hemorrhoids (yes, apparently it's common) or anything. But I'm freaking big. And I'm apparently pretty good a denial. I see other pregnant women all the time and think to myself: "Whoa, there's a pregnant belly." Meanwhile, people are saying the same thing about me!! (even Mike, making fun of me because only the top button of my white coat will stay closed... like a baby belly peep show every day at work.)
I have no concept of how big this thing is, trying all the time to unsuccessfully squeeze past a stretcher at work, only to embarrassingly have the baby get stuck between the foot of the bed and the elevator door. Or bumping accidentally into people's heads when I'm leaning over them to grab a chart. Not to mention the fact that I just move slowly. I used to zip around my 20 patients' rooms at warp speed. Now it's more like worm speed. I try not to waddle, but something has happened to my legs. My stomach has been rubbed by more people than a genie lamp.
Then there's the grunting. Apparently I'm doing it all the time, even in my sleep. I don't even realize it. Somewhere, my betrayed cells are screaming to get this thing out of there. Hopefully they aren't convincing enough to make it happen more than 8 days before my due date, which will be the last day of work before the 5 or 6 weeks off.
So, with all this going on, Mike's 33rd was bound to be a bust. The highlight was going to be a tour of the delivery unit at the hospital (see his blog...) I felt sorry for him, but after last year's apartment scavenger hunt, I just couldn't think of anything to make the day special while I was at work. Making him dinner is out because we still don't have a kitchen.
Luckily, Dad and Debbie sent Mike a gift certificate to a restaurant that we hadn't tried yet. So, in case you were worried about him, I did manage to poor three beers, calamari, crab cakes, and grilled salmon down his throat while enjoying the 80 degree weather on the river. It really was one of the best meals we've ever had, at just the right moment.
So, happy 33rd, Editor... just think of things this next year will bring you!!
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