I'm such a baby- how will I deal with labor?

Owchie.

I'm hurting, and in a big way. It seems that the never-ending expansion of my breasts and stomach is taking a huge toll on my lower back. I can't be in one position for very long at all, be it laying down, sitting up or standing. It feels like I'm on my period I'll cramp up so bad. I'm exhausted all the time, and the baby looks like a small alien trying to tear her way out of my stomach. The only thing that makes me feel any better is hydrocodone, but I can't take it unless the pain is extreme because I don't want the baby to be born addicted.

This sucks.

I want her out.

Happy Birthday to me...

Well, I am officially 21. I'm pretty sure this is the last "big" age benchmark that people actually enjoy and look forward to, which brings about a sense of sadness and relief. In some ways, it really does mean adulthood is here. I know, you'd think a baby on the way would have already heralded such an arrival, but if you think about it, most of the time, 21 year olds aren't necessarily adults. It's the "party age." I'm supposed to go out, get trashed and make a whole mess of mistakes. Not quite the case now. Not only would I arrest myself for child endangerment for getting trashed at this point (I was 32 weeks yesterday!), even after the baby comes, responsibility takes on a whole new meaning.
Don't get me wrong; I've never really been the party type. While the law may dictate 21 as the beginning of experiments with alcohol, reality says otherwise. I just don't like the taste of most alcohol, and those of you who know me know that I am a control freak, so that lack of control that accompanies drunkenness is far from appealing. So no, I'm not lamenting my loss of legal partying memories. It just makes a person think about decisions made.
I'm not trying to say I haven't already made my own slew of dastardly mistakes. I can list several by name ;-) but I won't. Still, instead of spending college as a college student, I opted for a more steady route. I haven't changed majors, really. I never pledged greek. The only organization I've been involved with is WKU Forensics, and while speech may be a lot of partying for other teams (or, in some instances, people on my own team), I've played it safe and by the rules. I've been with the same man for almost three years now, and that's unlikely to change, like... ever. Despite brawls with the family, I've remained very close to them. So basically, the majority of the stereotypes assumed when considering the "college experience," I left by the wayside.
I don't regret it.
Sure, I may not have a whole lot of rowdy stories to tell my daughter when she's older, but I have enough, and I was certainly there to help friends dig themselves out of holes they thought too deep. Plus, I wouldn't change anything for the world. I am in love with the most wonderful man I could have dreamed up, and changing anything I've done along the way might have altered where I am now. Certainly not worth the risk.
So perhaps sadness wasn't the proper adjective. Turning 21 brings a sense of ... melancholy? Nostalgia? Both? Hrm.
As far as relief goes... well, it's done. I've just never been in to throwing caution to the wind in a big way, and now that I've finished the set of teenage angst hurdles, I feel like it's more socially acceptable to be a fuddy duddy. Let's keep it real- they were calling me Mama Nelson long before Ava arrived on the scene, and with good reason. I've always been the Mama Hen among friends, and while before it was just a little weird (the boy thinks my expressions make me sound like I'm eighty, but I think making a mountain out of a molehill is a perfectly hip way to indicate exaggeration), it's now adult. Which I'm supposed to be. So I guess I'm finally acting my age? Or, well, at least close to it.
The next benchmark is graduation from college, and as pumped as I am to receive my degree and make the parents proud, I'll be a parent myself at that point, which kind of makes the piece of paper have less to do with personal accomplishment and more to do with providing for Ava. After that, it's marriage, which is kind of a given at this point. If the boy is reading this: THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO SKIMP ON THE PROPOSAL. STILL HOLDING YOU TO HIGH STANDARDS, HERE. And of course, I'm such a girl when it comes to getting excited about the dress and flowers and music and... well, you get it. Still, because it's only a matter of time, and to be perfectly honest, I have most of what I want planned out already, it doesn't seem as overwhelming. Then comes baby. Oh, wait, I already did that! So I guess the next BIG thing is... turning 30? Haha, go figure.
Well, I may not be going out to get totally wasted tonight, but today will be enjoyable. I'm going to take a nice hot shower, and then the boy and I are going to go on a hike, do some mini golfing, and perhaps catch a movie. Leisurely, and Ava friendly, which is just what the doctor ordered. Cheers!

Blah blah blah... I'm boring myself

Pregnancy does not suit me. I feel totally useless. The past two days, I think I've been operating on this adrenaline rush. We had to move out of the townhouse, the house had to be live-able, and then last night we had guests, so I power cleaned. However, I now feel listless and worthless.

I woke up this morning, fully prepared to have some heavy duty transcription editing to do, only to receive jack taco. How fulfilling. To top it all off, I just had zero energy. It's not really a matter of being tired so much as being without motivation, drive or will. I can't find it in me to do anything. I have a headache, my arm has that soreness again, and the world seems daunting. This is especially amusing, since a lot of what I have left to do is busy work- not even difficult!

So what have I resorted to? Well, I feel a bit like a beached whale, laying in bed and inhaling episode after episode of Desperate Housewives while wishing I had something to do. I hope with all my heart that I have a smidge of energy tomorrow, because I really would like to get a dent made in my to do list before my birthday.

WAHHHHH

I do not do pregnant well. I don't like having to share my body with another person- I just don't! Not that I don't love my daughter- because I do- I just hate the limitations it places on a body. Literally. I can't lift what I used to. My back goes out if I twist the wrong way. I exhaust easily. I can't eat what I used to. I can't sleep the same hours I used to. I can't get as much done in a day. All of this adds up to one big headache- especially when you're not entirely moved out of your old place, but have to be by Saturday to avoid paying another month's rent.

Let me elaborate on this a little. So, despite the best of plans to move over a month's time into the new place, what wound up happening was a lot of moving in the beginning, a little in the middle, and a big chunk still to go at the end. It's not that there's a lot of physical moving to do, but there is a lot of trash to be dealt with and some cleaning to be done. I don't labor under any fantasy that I'll be getting my deposit back (not with my jackass landlord), but I am not a horrible person (or at least I hope not), so I am doing what I can. Today, I tackled the bedroom.

Now there's not much up there. A dresser, an end table, some clothes and odds and ends... and a bunch of junk. Problem is, Ms. Genius (yeah, that's me) didn't realize we didn't have trash bags anymore at the townhouse. So, in my state of pure brilliance, I chose to use old sheets I was getting rid of anyways to wrap the junk up in, and then drop it out the window next to the trash can. Here's the problem with this plan: trash is heavy, and windows are small. So while I was expediting the trash process, I was also killing my back. Smart, huh?

So I was almost done with all of this when I look down and see blood smeared all over my ankle. I had been working in the closet, where months earlier someone had stepped on a frame and cracked some glass, but I had never cleaned it up. It now appeared that one of those shards of glass was sticking out of my ankle. Lovely. So I wiped it off, and headed downstairs to breathe and transfer the trash from the patio into the garbage can. While standing in the living room, my ankles and feet began to itch, and wondering if the blood had started to drip again from my battle wounds, I glanced down. No, no blood. Just fleas. Like forty of them on each leg. Gross.

Then I headed out to the patio to finish things up. In my infinite wisdom, I had only calculated the ease (or what turned out to be a lack thereof) in dropping trash. I now found myself having to lift said heavy trash into the garbage can. In a show of what felt like Herculean strength but probably would have been quite easy for anyone else, I managed to stuff about 2/3 of the crap into the can. I smiled at my work, until I realized that the trash had already been taken away yesterday, and now the garbage can was full, with 1/3 of the junk from the bedroom lying about on the patio and even more trash inside waiting to go out. GREAT.

On the way home, as my body and mind settled from the adrenaline rush that comes from wanting to GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE, my body was finally heard, and it was ANGRY. My back hurt tremendously, and I knew it was only going to get worse. On top of that, there was this intense pressure on my pelvic floor.

No, I had not gone into labor. Just clarifying. You may continue.

This pressure has been there for the past few days, but it was very prominent in that moment. As I mulled over the different sensations, I realized that my whole belly seemed a lot lower, and this, in combination with the spontaneous hardening and softening of the belly, plus sporadic pains therein, got me a little worried.

What does this mean? It means the baby has dropped. As in, she's making her way towards the vaginal canal so she can come out to play. Problem is, SHE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO YET! This functionally puts me on bed rest until I see the doctor next (a week from today). Unfortunately, in the midst of the final moving days, this benches me to the sidelines. Those of you who know me know that when crisis (or catastrophe) strikes, I like to be at the helm so this lack of control is enough to make me want to cry.

On the upside, baby is coming. I just hope she waits until after July 1st to make an appearance!

Pinch me, I'm dreaming...

Oh the nightmares.

As if I don't have enough on my mind these days, my sleep, which is already restless due to late night pee breaks, is being interrupted by terrible nightmares, or at the very least, very vivid dreams.

A lot of them circle around the boy. There have been dreams where he runs off with some random person who is supposedly a good friend (it's never anyone I actually know in real life, though), or others where he straight bounces. In one, he's started sleeping with someone else because I'm too busy with the baby, and I apparently was ok with it, but when I tried to reach out and reconnect, he told me he liked the hussy better. I always wake up in a cold sweat from these dreams, even with the knowledge that I am with the most faithful, devoted and loving man on the face of the earth. He always kisses me when I tell him about these frightful visions, and tells me I'm crazy for thinking he'd even contemplate leaving.

Doesn't make the dreams any less disturbing.

Other dreams have revolved around my grandma, who passed away in April. It's really jarring, because they'll be so real, I'll think I'm going to wake up to call and tell her about it. In one of the dreams, she was planting flowers outside of our new place. I was so rattled I had to get up to double check that someone hadn't been gardening overnight. I mean, I'm not particularly religious, but she was, and I can't help but feel she's looking out for me. One of my aunts, when she passed away, reassured me that even though she couldn't be here, my daughter to be has the most diligent guardian angel ever.

So what does this have to do with being pregnant? Hormones. It's part of the process. Pregnancy-info.net does a much better job than I could of explaining it:

"Throughout your pregnancy, your body pumps out a variety of different hormones, including progesterone and estrogen. It is thought that these hormones affect the way we sleep at night, causing us to experience longer periods of REM sleep. It is during REM sleep that our minds begin to dream."

Ok. Cool. Now I know why. Doesn't make the dreams any less weird.

Oh well. Less than ten weeks until the due date, and only 5 or so more until I can urge her to come out without feeling guilty about it.

Picking up Speed

BABY STUFF CRISIS MODE!

Also known as Post Baby Shower Overdrive Syndrome.

Also known as Lauren is LOSING IT.

Well, not really. I'm just excited, and those of you who know me know that I am functionally obsessive compulsive when something big is happening, and that I will purse my goals with tunnel vision at all costs. Unfortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel is baby, and thus, I am going forward at full speed and trying to figure it all out along the way. A couple of things I've noticed.

One, baby things are unnecessarily complicated to assemble. Who knew a high chair could create such a headache? You know, when I was going through and registering for the showers, I scoffed at the people who judged a product based on ease of assembly, but these days, I feel like I should have listened. The screws, parts and pieces add up in a way that makes my head spin. Of course, unlike a normal person, I decided I should just get it all done at once. Talk about a pain in the butt. Once the high chair was done, it got a little bit more simple. The swing came together fairly easily, and I've found a place for basically everything.

Two, baby has a lot of stuff. A LOT. I'm telling you- it's absolutely insane. It's not like I can just stack and go, either. You have to make sure that things are put in logical places-bathing supplies go on their own special shelf in the bathroom; a new shelf for bottles, nipples, etc and a drawer for the spoons and bottle liners (though you haven't quite figured out how they work yet); a makeshift changing table from an old computer desk with diapers and creams stacked beneath; the list goes on. What's worse, is that she has more clothes than I can shake a finger at, and all of it had to be washed in special baby detergent. At least that smelled good.

Three, I'm exhausted. I'm totally wiped out, and for no apparent reason. I try to move, and be active, and be productive, and I fail, and it sucks. On top of that, I'm trying to figure out what to tackle first, and the to do list seems too daunting to function.

Four, my doctor sucks. I go in, and she goes, by the way, you need an ultrasound, NOW, because the radiologist couldn't find the heart. Ok, problem is, she was referencing my ultrasounds, which was, by the way, 10 WEEKS AGO. So here I am thinking, shit, I have a baby, and she doesn't have a heart, and what the hell does that mean and... then the technician explains that it really just means that my uterus doesn't photograph well so we need to try to get a better picture of the heart. Here's to clarity.

Well, I'm off to settle the baby with some pizza. Wow this girl can kick.

April Showers Bring May Flowers... and Baby Showers!

YAY! PAR-TAY! Ok, so perhaps not in the traditional sense, but it was certainly a celebration, and the first of two. Yep, that's right- I've had my first baby shower... and what an experience!

I love my team soooo much. They have been tremendously supportive from the beginning of all of this, but they blew me out of the water with the shower. It's the end of the semester, cash is running low for most, and finals are in our midst. I assumed that would translate into a handful of people and many thoughtful cards, which, to be honest, I would have been overjoyed with anyways. Instead, there were streamers, balloons, delicious cake, a mountain of gifts and loads of friends fighting over who gets to babysit first!

Moreover, it was fantastic to see the boy finally get some attention for his role as daddy-to-be. He really has been fantastic, especially over the last month or so. My grandma passed away right in the middle of all of the national tournaments for speech and me being perpetually ill (I am, by the way, feeling better!), and the end result was an emotional wreck of massive proportions where his girlfriend had once stood. Not that I had been this pillar of strength and logic before hand, but I was certainly a monster in the aftermath. In any case, he has been supportive and more patient that I ever could be, but because he works a great deal and had kind of become disenchanted with forensics as his career came to a close, he was never quite the center of attention as far as baby things go. My family (God bless 'em) has been very vocal and involved every step of the way (which is what I needed, frankly), but his family is a little more quiet and subdued, especially on this issue. So, after all that babble, the point is- he was the center of attention for a little bit.

It was adorable watching him open the gifts! He'd get all excited about one thing or another. At one point, I was about to reach for the next package when he starts nudging me and goes, "No, wait! You've got to see this!" I turned, and he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding up a little pink outfit. "It's got a hat!"

He totally melted my heart.

He was enthralled with how many different products go into bathing and changing a child, and by just how small some of the little accessories were. He beamed with pride at the sight of a little teething toy that said "I Love My Daddy." I think it became very real for him in that moment, but instead of running for the hills as many men might, he got more and more excited.

At the end of the shower, toasts were made, and I was fighting back the tears, they were so sweet. Again, the boy was given some attention and love, as teammates testified to the fact that he was going to be a great father. Have I mentioned how much I love my team?

As we transported all of the beautiful gifts into the room that will be the nursery, I, on the other hand, panicked. There's still so much to do! I am 28 weeks, 1 day, which means I've still got some time, but I don't know that there is any amount of time that can prepare someone for pushing an infant between their legs and taking on responsibility for a new life. Don't misunderstand- I will step up to the plate swinging on day one, but it doesn't mean I'm not nervous now.

A couple of things have been resolved, though. For example, I am coming back to compete, though I am done, done, DONE with Parli. I think it's for the best, honestly. Looking into next year, I think I'd go crazy if I had to worry about all of the uncertainties associated with partnerships and travel. I'll be doing IEs and LD, and my Director of Forensics has asked me to function as a student worker for the program, keeping track of times for pieces, managing the extemp files, and helping out with some novi. Weeee!!! Here's to figuring things out :)

School has finally come to an end. For awhile, things were looking a little scary; I wasn't sure professors were going to be understanding about my month of hell. However, they all came around, and while I may get a C in one (at worst, two) classes, I have one A for sure, might pull off another, and potentially could get two B's afterwards. We shall see, I suppose. I'm just glad none of them failed me!

My schedule for next semester has been set up as well. I'm taking a lot of evening classes to help stave off the need for babysitters (not that there's a shortage of volunteers). We'll see how things wind up panning out. I over-registered so that if I need to drop one, I can. Time will tell how things shake down.

We've moved into our new place! Kind of. Sort of. Well, almost. It's a cute little duplex, and while we have a neighbor, hell if I know who the are, as they have yet to be here. My landlord (who's really cool) told us that she's almost never there, which I guess will be a good thing with a screaming child next door at 3 am. It's got plenty of space, is in good condition, and the landlord has given us free reign to paint/landscape/do what we want. Plus, we don't have to mow, but we get a yard! Yay!

I have already painted the living room, which was quite the ordeal. Before you start gasping in horror for my child's brain development, I followed the rules. Latex paint. Windows open. Mask. Frequent breaks. A room that should have taken me a day to paint took me 2 1/2. It looks great though! Only room left to paint is baby's... though I may have the boy figure that one out for me.

Well, I've got to go make some money a la transcription revision. Next baby shower is May 17th! I can't wait!