Doesn't Have Bullet Points, But Probably Should

Yesterday we went to have our picture taken for our church photo directory, a painless fifteen-minute process for which I actually curled my hair.  As I was doing it - I use hot rollers because I've never mastered the art of the curling iron, and I'm just going for extra body anyway since I don't look that great with curls - I mentally tallied the number of times I've taken the trouble to do this since getting pregnant.  This was only the third time, in all of eight months.

Such are the perils of being pregnant and not employed outside the home.  There's a fine line between refusing to obsess about one's appearance and just letting it all disintegrate into a horrifying mess.  I have a suspicion that I've crossed that line.  My excuse is that I look and feel like a beached whale anyway (I never imagined that getting up from the couch could be such an ordeal) so what's the point in trying to improve anything?  Ridiculously, I'm sort of assuming that post-partum, I'll be more motivated to make an effort, but that is probably ludicrous.  (Kind of like my idea that I'll be more motivated to cook dinner after the baby is born because my debilitating heartburn will be gone.  Suuuuure.)

In the cosmic scheme of things, looking good isn't so important, right?
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At the church-directory picture appointment, I knew that they'd try to sell us copies of the portraits for our own use - that's the way these things work.  I hate sales pitches, hate them with an all-consuming passion, because I feel incredibly bad saying no to people.  Pragmatically, I know it's merciful to cut them off early rather than letting them get through the whole sales pitch before saying no, but I have a hard time making myself do it.  One time a guy selling all-purpose miracle cleanser cleaned about five different spots on our front porch - deckboards, lamp, brass address numbers, door handle - before I finally got up the nerve to tell him I wasn't interested in the magical stuff.  I felt really guilty about that.  And now the porch looks weird with randomly-placed clean spots among the filth.

In this particular case, though (the church portraits, in case you've been distracted by my non sequitur and forgotten what I'm talking about) we had an easy out: no one could possibly expect a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy to be eager to preserve photos of herself in that condition, no matter how professional those photos might be.  Sure enough, the woman making the sales didn't even try to persuade us to change our minds.  I was surprised at how happy it made me to have an ironclad excuse that didn't hurt anyone.  Clearly I have some kind of mad salesperson phobia going on here.
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So as we're getting ready to leave, said portrait saleswoman congratulates us on the upcoming birth, and asks us whether we know if it's a boy or a girl.  We tell her it's a surprise, and she is pleased by this (a common reaction among older people, I've found).  As we stand up to leave she watches me walk away from the table and calls out, "It's a boy!"  I laugh and tell her that the predictions have been about 50/50, and she says, "I can tell because you're big all over.  If it was a girl you'd be carrying all out in front."  (Incidentally, since when is "you're big all over" an appropriate thing to say to anyone, ever?  I know she meant well, but in my mind it's about on par with "your acne is really bad," which would be an absolutely horrifying thing to say.)

I enjoy the whole gender-prediction thing, except when it involves people making me feel even huger than I already do, mostly because it's just so ridiculous that it becomes fun.  Every person has a different theory, pulled apparently out of thin air, and often contradicting other common theories.  I actually find myself inclined to give more credence to the people who don't have reasons for their guesses, and claim to rely on intuition alone.  Since it's all hogwash anyway, it seems more consistent to decline to pretend there's anything scientific involved.  And hey, I'm just as likely to believe that someone can instinctively sense the sex of the babe as that the size or shape of my belly has anything to do with it.
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My sister, the one with the baby, told me that the belly pictures I've been posting (did you notice I organized them all pretty in a photo album?) make me look smaller than I look in real life.  Far be it from me to deceive my gentle readers even a little bit, so I'm determined to get a picture which makes me look as big as I am.  The mirrors and lighting in this house don't work well for self-portraits, so I'll try to get Bryan to snap one this week, and y'all can see how huge I really am.

(I'm not kidding.  I think I have grown exponentially over the past month or so; there will definitely be no comments this time about me being tiny.  That's okay, though: I should be big since I'm carrying a baby who is already over six pounds by the doctor's estimates.  With four weeks to go, I think that's big enough.)
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Speaking of the doctor, I'm up to weekly visits now.  I can't believe we're this close to the end! 

My poor doc is still paranoid about my borderline-high blood pressure.  It continues to be fine at home, of course, but the numbers we get in his office are enough to make him nervous (stupid hyper-litigious culture!) and want to do extra monitoring.  So far he's done three ultrasounds to check that the kiddo is growing quickly enough and that there's plenty of amniotic fluid, since growth and fluid are two areas in which hypertension can cause problems.  We appear to be fine on both counts.

The third potential problem, according to him, is that consistent high-blood pressure has caused damage to placental blood vessels and the baby's oxygen flow will be compromised as we near full-term.  The solution to this is weekly non-stress tests, which I start next Tuesday when I hit thirty-seven weeks.  A little bit of a pain, yes, but obviously worth it for the reassurance that all is well with Pahoehoe, and especially if it'll keep the doc from stressing and talking induction.  He's promised to let me go to 42 weeks without applying any pressure to induce as long as everything looks good, so I'm hoping that all continues to go well.

(Actually, I'm hoping that the child simply obliges by coming on time or a little early.  Let's all mentally root for that, okay?)
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I'm extremely grateful (ha!) to those of you who assured me that my feet will be bigger after pregnancy.  Couldn't you have some mercy and let me continue in blissful ignorance?  I'm already cursed with big feet - size ten, and they've been that big since I was about twelve.  (Sometime if I'm feeling especially humble I'll scan and post a picture of me at age ten where my feet look so ludicrously huge that the photo has provided hours of amusement to numerous and sundry people, especially at parties where one of my sisters is kind enough to pass it around.)  Size ten is just on the cusp of what normal stores carry; if I gain even half a size it'll make shoes considerably more difficult to find.

Fortunately, I think I was mistaken about my feet being bigger.  Possibly I had been merely reacting to the odd sensation of wearing actual shoes after living in sandals for so long.  Since then I've been gradually getting back into winter shoes and they all seem to fit fine.  I think I'm okay, unless my feet grow in the next four weeks.  I hear it's a possibility.  C'est la vie.

Incidentally, for anyone who is currently pregnant and whose feet have gotten bigger, don't despair!  Even though it seems to be outside the experience of any of the commenters here, I do know people whose feet grew or swelled, but returned to pre-pregnancy size.  This includes one of my close friends and my sister (who took a long car trip a couple weeks before she gave birth and whose feet and ankles looked like cute little balloons for the rest of her pregnancy.  Fortunately it was June, and flip-flop weather).
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See this kid?

That's my little brother George, who graduated from high school this past spring.  Next week he goes off to get his butt kicked at boot camp and become a full-fledged member of the US Coast Guard.  George is six years younger than I am and I remember when he was a chubby little baby who reached out his arms and said his first word.  ("Hug."  He was a remarkably affectionate child, which is sometimes hard to remember now.  I'm hoping his fuzzy side will appear again someday, instead of getting beaten out of him by all those drill sergeants.)

Seriously, though, he's a great kid, and I love him, and he's about to go through a major life change.  So send prayers and good thoughts, okay?
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Things are going well with two of my Internet friends who share, by complete coincidence, the same first name.  (I'm assuming it was coincidence, since as far as I know their parents have never met or even heard of each other and could not therefore have been colluding.  Although stranger things have happened.)

Jen has given birth to Lila Catherine!  I'm sure that Jen and her husband are feeling pretty blessed right now, but little Lila is also blessed to be born into such a great family.  Hop over there and congratulate all of them!

Meanwhile, in a different part of the country, one of my dearest Internet friends is pregnant.  Jennifer has suffered six early miscarriages in the past couple years; this is her seventh pregnancy and she is currently in her ninth week, which is farther than she's ever been before.  She's excited but, obviously, somewhat apprehensive as well, and I'm sure she could use all the encouragement you can give.
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Official thirty-six-week belly picture coming soon, I promise!

Comments

[Julie]

psssst...thirty-seven weeks? that's full term!!

:D

[Ersza]

Erm, it's good that you and the doc talked about the risk that high blood pressure in pregnancy poses to your unborn child. Did you cover the risks to you? I don't want to scare you, but hypertension of pregnancy (aka preeclampsia) is a very serious complication, and he has reason to watch you very carefully. The cure is ending the pregnancy, so this would be the reason for induction. After 36 weeks, it should be totally safe for the babe. I'm glad he's being extra-cautious.

[KatieButler]

Glad to hear you and the baby are doing well, and that your dr. is taking the cautious route. Prayers that all goes well for the rest of the pregnancy and that Pahoehoe arrives sooner than later! ;)
Prayers for your brother, as well, as he enters his training.

[Arwen]

Thanks for the concern, Ersza.

Just FYI for you and anyone else who is worried about me and preeclampsia, please don't worry! I've been instructed from the very beginning to let them know immediately if my blood pressure goes high at home, or if I gain weight or swell up suddenly, or have any of the other symptoms of preeclampsia. And I'm very well-educated on what those are. If I develop it, we'll be right on top of the situation. :)

[Ersza]

I'm glad you're up on all of that, Arwen. I was getting a "Silly doctor, why is he worried about high blood pressure" thing off of that post. I don't want you to feel hijacked if you show up for a prenatal appointment and get sent straight to the hospital for induction. Studies show that women are less likely to be traumatized by difficult birth experiences if they are informed and have some feeling of control.

You're in the home stretch! Is your bag packed????

[Beret]

That comment was completely rude (about carrying all over). Anyway, the old wives' tale is that if you carry all over it's a *girl* not a boy (so what does she know. Ha!)

Of course you can't listen to the old wives' tales. I carried the same way in both pregnancies and I had a girl and a boy.

I think you're having a girl, but that's just based on a feeling and not how you look.

Enjoy the last few weeks having your little one all to yourself!

[Sarah]

I say again: I normally wear a size 9-1/2 or 10 shoe, and my feet have remained exactly the same size both pre- and post-partum. You'll be fine!

When I was pregnant I took a kind of perverse pride in my hugeness -- I'd wanted to be pregnant for a long time, and I guess I was just happy that I *looked* pregnant. When friends would see me and say "Wow, you're big!" my vain side would wince, but another part of me would grin and think "Cool!".

[Krimojo]

I'll also chime in as someone whose feet didn't swell or change size - during or after.

I vote girl... just because your sis had a boy. :)

[PrinceOfTheWest]

Marines have drill sergeants. Coast Guardsmen have company commanders. They're effectively the same, but the distinction matters, particularly to Marines.

[Jordana]

We had our church directory photo taken just after finding out I was pregnant ... the only copy we got was a complimentary one (maybe the church paid for it? I don't know), in which my greenish complexion and the dark circles under my eyes are immortalized. The pregnancy gave us a great excuse not to buy any pictures, though; we were able to just say, "We're having a baby, so we'll wait to get family pictures until the baby's born." Have we had official/studio family pictures taken since Ngaire's birth? We have not. We are either horrible liars, or all too eager for an excuse not to buy.

[mrsdarwin]

I had borderline high-blood pressure during my last pregnancy, and my midwife had me on quasi-bedrest. Boooring. I hope you're able to stay up and active (as active as your mobility permits, anyway) all the way to the end.

[Sonetka]

I hope your blood pressure remains sedate and unexciting - also I'll echo Sarah; my shoe size didn't change *at all* ultimately; in fact I spent this last summer in the same lovely, thin sandals I bought a year before Daniel was born. There is hope! (Also, you have church directory photos? Amazing modernity - we're still getting by on things that look about one step removed from a mimeograph machine, let alone having such newfangled additions as photos :)).

Jordana - I was eight weeks along and starting to get walloped by morning sickness when I was a bridesmaid at my brother-in-law's wedding. Approximately forty thousand wedding party photos with me looking like I had just been scraped off the sidewalk; the lavender ruffles did nothing to enhance my dead, dead eyes. On the plus side, the bride looked GORGEOUS next to me :).

[Ellen (a different one)]

Oh, hon. I only wish that litigation was the only reason why doctors worried so much about blood-pressure issues in pregnancy. My brother used to complain about his wife's weekly visits late in her pregnancies, grousing that they were the doctor's way of driving up bills. (He's a programmer for a company that makes medical billing software, so you'll have to forgive is cynicism.) After I ended up hospitalized with severe pre-eclampsia, less than a week after having seen my doctor (with glowing test reports), he changed his mind. It's so much better to be safe than, well, the other thing.

[Louise]

Glad to see a nice big newsy update from you!

I can't believe someone in real life said "you're big all over."

Ugg!

Take care,
GL

[Julie]

People don't think when they're speaking to pregnant women -- that's my theory. I was an emotional wreck through most of my pregnancy (which is now blissfully over and I have babies to prove it!). I'd go to work, and a woman I barely knew would ask me every couple of weeks whether I was going to be able to wear my maternity clothes much longer, since it looked like I was outgrowing them. Why? Why would you say that to someone!? Ever?

[Kate]

Arwen,

You will be smaller again, you will have energy again, and you will have an appetite again! I remember feeling just like that (and despairing, as I watched my house and self deteriorating), but now I have my energy, body and motivation back (and it only took 18 months!) :-)

much love,
Kate

[Tracy]

Hope all is going well - assuming that you're still gestating, you're 37 weeks? And it's your month. October is a fabulous month for babies. At least my family must think so - with about 7 family birthdays in October, including my eldest, of course!