It’s been a week and a bit since I brought home my baby. It’s been a helluva learning experience.
Boobie feeding
I am doing the boobie feeding thing. No bottles. The advantages far outweigh the drawbacks, which are mostly comfort related. By the 3rd day since the delivery REAL milky white stuff started coming from my boobies. Score! The key here is the latching of the baby onto the boobie. I can’t explain the pain associated with sore boobies though. It’s fire and soreness. And full boobies that require drinking… sigh. The nipple cream has helped, however. She munches every 3 – 4 hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. I don’t plan to enforce a routine. I will feed her when she is hungry, and make sure she munches for at least 15 minutes every time I whip out my boobies.
Nappy changes
At first, this seemed a daunting challenge. The first stool was handles by nursing staff, thankfully. The whole first night was taken care of, actually. My husband has been … beyond wonderful. I got a crash course in nappy changing at the hospital. My mother changed her when the baby was brought to us. Then, my cousin, who has 2 younger sisters did a few changes as well. By the time I actually HAD to, I’d seen it done a couple times. So, I play assistant to my husband when he changes her. During the day, I’m on duty. At night, he does most of the changes, as I do the feedings. I can’t explain what a help he has been. I’ve been ridiculously tired these days; must be the boobie feedings.
Sleepy time
After she eats, she sleeps. The mosquitoes have been bothering us at night. My parents bought her a mozzie net for her crib, however. Thing is, she sleeps better between me and the husband, and I don’t have to jump up and out of bed every time she makes a muffled groan.
Bath time
I had one demonstration in the hospital on how this is supposed to be done as well. Easier shown than done. Once again, the help of my cousin was invaluable. She washed the baby 3 times, before she had to go home. Varsity holidays have started, after all. So, by the time I had to do it, I’d seen it done 4 times in total. I heard of a neat trick from a work colleague – wrap her in a towel and wash her in the towel. She only cries when she is cold, so as long as I can keep the cold at bay, bath time is fine. My husband has washed her by himself as well. It went very well. Have I mentioned that he is awesome?
So, in conclusion, I have a living breathing doll. And, it’s… overwhelming at times. She is so fragile, so dependent. Very beautiful. I hate it when she cries. It’s so awful. She is such a sweet kid, she deserves only every bit of happiness that comes her way.
I finally have the angel baby I’ve always wanted. She is beautiful and sweet. She only cries when she is cold, hungry or needs a change. Other than that, she sleeps the deep sleep of the righteous. She is just gorgeous. She is developing this permanent tan, without ever seeing the sun. (haha) I suppose that’s what happens when you have an eclipse of pale and dark.
I can’t screw this up. I only have this one shot, after all. It’s gonna be a while before we do the baby thing again. It’s really expensive!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Delivery Day
Kyra was born 2,5 weeks premature, on Saturday, 29 November 2008, at 17h05.
She popped out after a mere 5 pushes-it was a vaginal delivery, with epidural.
Here is a brief overview of my weekend:
Saturday morning, at 4am, I wake up due to menstrual cramps. "More Braxton Hicks." I think to myself. With a sigh I head to the bathroom, for the 10th time that night. The pain then migrated to my back, which was when I decided, no time like the present for a bath.
An hour and a half later, the bath water is cold, and the pains, erratic as they are, are not going away. And, I'm getting hungry. So, I get up, get into a towel, and head to the kitchen to get some cornflakes. Pain courses through my abdominal and back area as I ambulate up the hallway and back.
When I return to the room, I decide to call the hospital to ask what pills I can take for this pain. They tell me to come in to the hospital for a check up. Just basic foetal monitoring. So, I finish my cornflakes and get dressed. Off to the hospital we go. It is 06h50.
We make it to the maternity ward without incident. I get hooked up to a foetal monitor at 07h00. "Great" I think, the cramps have stopped. The nurse tells us that I need to be on the monitor for at least 20 minutes. Also, my stomach is "hard". Don't know what that's supposed to mean.
So, after 20 minutes of only 3 cramps happening (they were erratic as I said, not regular, one bad, one not, etc) the nurse told me my obstetrician is in the building, as another lady was in labour. The monitoring wasn't conslusive, so I should wait for the obstetrician.
In the mean time, the cramps are still coming, and I wonder about getting some Panado at least. The nurse said I'm not to have anything till the doctor has seen me. "Wonderful" I think.
At 09h00 the obstetrician shows up. She does an internal exam of my bits. It hurt. Then it was just uncomfortable. Anyway, she felt up my cervix, said that it was squishy (meaning soft), and proceded to puncture my amniotic sack. So, she broke my water, and it rushed the bed. Felt like I'd wet myself badly. So, the doctor told me, no going back now - the water is broken, the kid is coming today.
Turns out I was in real labour, even though I thought it was false, cause it didn't happen as the book said it should.
I called my parents, who got in the car and drove the 5 hour trip immediately.
I’m told the anaesthetist showed up at 10h30, it felt like hours later. The labour cramps were intense – worse than any menstrual pains I’d ever experienced. I am lucky in that my husband is patient. I was telling, nay yelling at him to rub my back harder, softer, DON’T TOUCH ME, etc. Then there was the sweet sweet numbness as the epidural took effect. The rest of the day was downhill from there.
By 14h00, I was 5cm dilated. My parents arrived at around 16h00. By 17h30 I was 9 cm dilated. The last cm took an hour and a half.
They put me in these leg brace things on the bed. The pushing part of the situation took about 15mins, then Kyra was out. I cracked up laughing the 1st 2 times I was told to push. The doctor and nurse were like, “Push like you’re constipated!” Yes, the epidural was that good.
I recall the first thing I said as she popped out and they immediately put her on my chest, was “Euw, gross.” So, they took her away and wiped her clean. Then they gave her to my husband (Who had cut the umbilical cord, by the way). He went to go show the grandparentals, who were waiting outside.
Then, out popped the placenta, all intact.
The paediatrician checked her out. Everything was fine. She went to the baby room with my husband in tow. Then all the tubes were removed from me. And, the wait for the numbness in my legs to away ensued. I’d needed extra drugs to get my right side as drugged out as my left side. It took roughly an hour or so. The husband migrated all my and the baby’s stuff to our hospital room. I had a private room for some reason.
The nurses helped me to the bathroom, where my husband helped me wash. In salt water. I walked like a drunk person, cause the feeling in my feet hadn’t returned yet. Also, my blood pressure was a bit low again, now that the baby was out. So, I was a bit dizzy as well. After the bath, I went to the room.
The first breast feeding attempt, which happened before Kyra was taken to the baby room, was … weird. I had some water-like substance appearing from my boobie. They called it colustrum. Or something. Anyway. The nurses were awesome, they helped me get the baby to latch and do some sucking. This is vital as soon as possible after she pops out. The baby needs to learn to suck properly.
Then every 4 hours, the nurses would bring the baby in for boobie feeding. Sunday my parents bought the baby a bath, and bathing stand, and nappies, etc etc. They left around 14h00. My husband slept on the lazyboy all weekend. And he helped with the nappies. Sunday afternoon and Monday, the baby spent most of the time in our room. And we had a crash course in baby care on the job. Monday morning the husband had to go to work to secure some leave. He was back in a couple hours.
We left at 18h00.
And, that’s how Kyra made her appearance.
She popped out after a mere 5 pushes-it was a vaginal delivery, with epidural.
Here is a brief overview of my weekend:
Saturday morning, at 4am, I wake up due to menstrual cramps. "More Braxton Hicks." I think to myself. With a sigh I head to the bathroom, for the 10th time that night. The pain then migrated to my back, which was when I decided, no time like the present for a bath.
An hour and a half later, the bath water is cold, and the pains, erratic as they are, are not going away. And, I'm getting hungry. So, I get up, get into a towel, and head to the kitchen to get some cornflakes. Pain courses through my abdominal and back area as I ambulate up the hallway and back.
When I return to the room, I decide to call the hospital to ask what pills I can take for this pain. They tell me to come in to the hospital for a check up. Just basic foetal monitoring. So, I finish my cornflakes and get dressed. Off to the hospital we go. It is 06h50.
We make it to the maternity ward without incident. I get hooked up to a foetal monitor at 07h00. "Great" I think, the cramps have stopped. The nurse tells us that I need to be on the monitor for at least 20 minutes. Also, my stomach is "hard". Don't know what that's supposed to mean.
So, after 20 minutes of only 3 cramps happening (they were erratic as I said, not regular, one bad, one not, etc) the nurse told me my obstetrician is in the building, as another lady was in labour. The monitoring wasn't conslusive, so I should wait for the obstetrician.
In the mean time, the cramps are still coming, and I wonder about getting some Panado at least. The nurse said I'm not to have anything till the doctor has seen me. "Wonderful" I think.
At 09h00 the obstetrician shows up. She does an internal exam of my bits. It hurt. Then it was just uncomfortable. Anyway, she felt up my cervix, said that it was squishy (meaning soft), and proceded to puncture my amniotic sack. So, she broke my water, and it rushed the bed. Felt like I'd wet myself badly. So, the doctor told me, no going back now - the water is broken, the kid is coming today.
Turns out I was in real labour, even though I thought it was false, cause it didn't happen as the book said it should.
I called my parents, who got in the car and drove the 5 hour trip immediately.
I’m told the anaesthetist showed up at 10h30, it felt like hours later. The labour cramps were intense – worse than any menstrual pains I’d ever experienced. I am lucky in that my husband is patient. I was telling, nay yelling at him to rub my back harder, softer, DON’T TOUCH ME, etc. Then there was the sweet sweet numbness as the epidural took effect. The rest of the day was downhill from there.
By 14h00, I was 5cm dilated. My parents arrived at around 16h00. By 17h30 I was 9 cm dilated. The last cm took an hour and a half.
They put me in these leg brace things on the bed. The pushing part of the situation took about 15mins, then Kyra was out. I cracked up laughing the 1st 2 times I was told to push. The doctor and nurse were like, “Push like you’re constipated!” Yes, the epidural was that good.
I recall the first thing I said as she popped out and they immediately put her on my chest, was “Euw, gross.” So, they took her away and wiped her clean. Then they gave her to my husband (Who had cut the umbilical cord, by the way). He went to go show the grandparentals, who were waiting outside.
Then, out popped the placenta, all intact.
The paediatrician checked her out. Everything was fine. She went to the baby room with my husband in tow. Then all the tubes were removed from me. And, the wait for the numbness in my legs to away ensued. I’d needed extra drugs to get my right side as drugged out as my left side. It took roughly an hour or so. The husband migrated all my and the baby’s stuff to our hospital room. I had a private room for some reason.
The nurses helped me to the bathroom, where my husband helped me wash. In salt water. I walked like a drunk person, cause the feeling in my feet hadn’t returned yet. Also, my blood pressure was a bit low again, now that the baby was out. So, I was a bit dizzy as well. After the bath, I went to the room.
The first breast feeding attempt, which happened before Kyra was taken to the baby room, was … weird. I had some water-like substance appearing from my boobie. They called it colustrum. Or something. Anyway. The nurses were awesome, they helped me get the baby to latch and do some sucking. This is vital as soon as possible after she pops out. The baby needs to learn to suck properly.
Then every 4 hours, the nurses would bring the baby in for boobie feeding. Sunday my parents bought the baby a bath, and bathing stand, and nappies, etc etc. They left around 14h00. My husband slept on the lazyboy all weekend. And he helped with the nappies. Sunday afternoon and Monday, the baby spent most of the time in our room. And we had a crash course in baby care on the job. Monday morning the husband had to go to work to secure some leave. He was back in a couple hours.
We left at 18h00.
And, that’s how Kyra made her appearance.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Oh woe!
So, last week I noticed for the first time, and despite many daily applications of miracle stretchmark creams, that I now have brand spanking new stretchmarks on my belly.
Not kewl.
It seems that, regardless of whatever promises made on the bottles of these lotions and potions, the fact of the matter is, if you are meant to get stretchmarks from pregancy, you will get them. And no cream is gonna stop the body from doing what it does. I.e., stretching to accommodate the parasite.
My ribs feel like they are moving outward as well, much to the discomfort of my chest. Likewise, the bones in my pelvic area seem to be moving to the side. Dull aches that don't go away accompany this perceived movement.
Monday marked the first of the now weekly visits I must make to the obstetrician. At R330 a week, I wonder if I'm in the right business. And I know that if I have any more kids, I will be skipping the larger amount of these visits. I'm fine, the baby is fine. Nothing is wrong. So, this cash could be much better spent elsewhere, methinks. Especially as there are no warning signs that anything may be wrong in this pregnancy.
I am basically done with packing my hospital bag. All I need to put in now, is a toothbrush, some jammies and an outfit or two. Problem is, I only have 1 toothbrush, 2 sets of comfy jammies I can still wear and 3 comfy outfits. If I pack them, I'll have to hang around naked in the house for the next 3 weeks. And, that, friends and neighbours, will not be happening. So, I figure, the house is only 3 mins away from the hospital; if all else fails, the husband could always go get my toiletries and an outfit during the "waiting around" part of the labour.
All systems are go for the big event. The baby's goodies have been ziplocked and are ready for use. We have many glucose rich treats for energy (Though, I can't imagine the sugar release will give sustained energy. Also, I'm planning on an epidural, but one never can know how these things will pan out. If I get to hospital too late, I may have to forego the epidural. Yikes.) The challenge now is to NOT eat the goodies in the bag before the event...
*sigh*
How the sugary treats taunt me!
I'm at the office this morning, doing some final review work. I just wanna get everything in order and done before the manager returns tomorrow. After I finish this document, I will finally be free of this place till next year. I am officially on leave. But, it's just bad sportsmanship to leave review work for someone else, even though I did receive the work a week late.
As I told my husband a couple weeks ago, to much laughter on his part - this is just how I roll.
(It's funny, you see, coz I have to roll to one side or the other when trying to get to sleep, or even just to get off the bed. Yes, I'm that big. I'm a beachball smuggler. I'm the Michelin man. I'm the progeny of both the Michelin man and the Oros man. I dun got FAT.)
Have I mentioned that I can't believe I have stretchmarks on my STOMACH?? I'd been so careful about that... *sigh* And they are this awful red-purplish colour. Same on my hips. Those are new, too. The hip ones have nestled in with my old stretchmarks from highschool. But, the stomach ones are breaking new ground.
I'm 37 weeks preggers today, folks. (Give or take a few days) Think of me around December 15th. They say 1st time round babies tend to hang around inside for longer. So, she may be out for xmas. Never thought I'd have a Christmas baby. Thanks a lot, Coke Fest weekend.
Not kewl.
It seems that, regardless of whatever promises made on the bottles of these lotions and potions, the fact of the matter is, if you are meant to get stretchmarks from pregancy, you will get them. And no cream is gonna stop the body from doing what it does. I.e., stretching to accommodate the parasite.
My ribs feel like they are moving outward as well, much to the discomfort of my chest. Likewise, the bones in my pelvic area seem to be moving to the side. Dull aches that don't go away accompany this perceived movement.
Monday marked the first of the now weekly visits I must make to the obstetrician. At R330 a week, I wonder if I'm in the right business. And I know that if I have any more kids, I will be skipping the larger amount of these visits. I'm fine, the baby is fine. Nothing is wrong. So, this cash could be much better spent elsewhere, methinks. Especially as there are no warning signs that anything may be wrong in this pregnancy.
I am basically done with packing my hospital bag. All I need to put in now, is a toothbrush, some jammies and an outfit or two. Problem is, I only have 1 toothbrush, 2 sets of comfy jammies I can still wear and 3 comfy outfits. If I pack them, I'll have to hang around naked in the house for the next 3 weeks. And, that, friends and neighbours, will not be happening. So, I figure, the house is only 3 mins away from the hospital; if all else fails, the husband could always go get my toiletries and an outfit during the "waiting around" part of the labour.
All systems are go for the big event. The baby's goodies have been ziplocked and are ready for use. We have many glucose rich treats for energy (Though, I can't imagine the sugar release will give sustained energy. Also, I'm planning on an epidural, but one never can know how these things will pan out. If I get to hospital too late, I may have to forego the epidural. Yikes.) The challenge now is to NOT eat the goodies in the bag before the event...
*sigh*
How the sugary treats taunt me!
I'm at the office this morning, doing some final review work. I just wanna get everything in order and done before the manager returns tomorrow. After I finish this document, I will finally be free of this place till next year. I am officially on leave. But, it's just bad sportsmanship to leave review work for someone else, even though I did receive the work a week late.
As I told my husband a couple weeks ago, to much laughter on his part - this is just how I roll.
(It's funny, you see, coz I have to roll to one side or the other when trying to get to sleep, or even just to get off the bed. Yes, I'm that big. I'm a beachball smuggler. I'm the Michelin man. I'm the progeny of both the Michelin man and the Oros man. I dun got FAT.)
Have I mentioned that I can't believe I have stretchmarks on my STOMACH?? I'd been so careful about that... *sigh* And they are this awful red-purplish colour. Same on my hips. Those are new, too. The hip ones have nestled in with my old stretchmarks from highschool. But, the stomach ones are breaking new ground.
I'm 37 weeks preggers today, folks. (Give or take a few days) Think of me around December 15th. They say 1st time round babies tend to hang around inside for longer. So, she may be out for xmas. Never thought I'd have a Christmas baby. Thanks a lot, Coke Fest weekend.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Maternity leave
Today is my last day at the office before a 4 month stint of facing the brutal realities of motherhood. This week has been an optimistic one. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of impending “holiday” to get your spirits up. Have I mentioned I can’t wait to get home? Ahhhhhh… To be on holiday again…
On the dark side of the coin, it seems that nausea has returned with a vengeance. And not just up chucking the content of my oesophagus, nooooo. I have that lingering nausea again, reminiscent of my first 3 months of pregnancy. I have no idea what happened to my nausea pills, I may have to invest in finding some more.
The pictures of my belly came out rather… okay. Only one was really beautiful, where the artificial light catches me just so. I look like I’m deep in joyous contemplation of the bundle of joy under my hands. Soft glow surrounds me too. I wonder if it’s a photoshop effect.
Despite me needing to have my feet up now, and resting – Next week Monday is already gonna be a full day. I have to go see the wedding photographer (We never did get our professional wedding photos, though we may still get them one day). We are gonna make an album. I have a budget and everything. I also have another obstetrician check up same day. These will become a weekly occurrence until I pop this kid, it seems. It’s a bit heavy on my (and the hubby’s, but mostly the hubby’s) pocket.
Then I also have to go see the UIF woman, to finalise my forms and get them to the Dept of Labour. I hope they will deem me worthy of getting some money. Would suck if this was all for naught.
Also, there are a bunch of little things I still need to add to the old hospital bag.
The husband and I went to my parents’ house last weekend. Yes, a 5 hour trip. My mom washed all my baby clothes for me, and we packed them in the required zip lock bags, to ensure there is a nappy, vest and an outfit in each. Well, to be fair, my mom packed everything. I just sort of watched. My mom also made me lasagne, which I asked for. The fast food places and restaurants just can’t make food the way my mom does.
Home sickness is a weird affliction.
My kid has almost more clothes than me now.
The husband has ordered a cot online. That should be here before the baby is. (We hope.)
We are still struggling with estate agents and sellers on the price of the townhouse we want. Either way, we have no idea when we will be able to move in. And, it looks like we will be in my husband’s parents’ house till quite some time after the kid is born. I don’t think this is a bad idea. At least she will be surrounded by loving family, and a support base like that is nothing to sneeze at. More hands to help feed, bathe, burp and clean. Huzzah!
I also speak to my parentals almost daily. They have confirmed that they will be here to support me for almost the whole of December, depending how bored they get. This is great news. I don’t remember much of what they said in the pre-natal classes regarding child care. At least, with my maternity leave, I will have time to read the book I have on that issue.
It seems the office scanner has taken a scanning quality nose dive. I have been unable to get decent scans of the past 2 sonars of the babbie. My apologies, curious masses. I will be putting them into my baby scrapbook, so if anyone ever comes to visit, just ask to see the scrapbook. Rest assured that it looks like a big headed baby. You can’t see much on the sonars anyway: just a big head and some appendages. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I’m still deciding on the QE. To study or not to study, to do it, or not. This will be the last time I have study leave for it. *sigh* Is it worth it?
Can’t wait to get out of here, pity about the mountain of work!
On the dark side of the coin, it seems that nausea has returned with a vengeance. And not just up chucking the content of my oesophagus, nooooo. I have that lingering nausea again, reminiscent of my first 3 months of pregnancy. I have no idea what happened to my nausea pills, I may have to invest in finding some more.
The pictures of my belly came out rather… okay. Only one was really beautiful, where the artificial light catches me just so. I look like I’m deep in joyous contemplation of the bundle of joy under my hands. Soft glow surrounds me too. I wonder if it’s a photoshop effect.
Despite me needing to have my feet up now, and resting – Next week Monday is already gonna be a full day. I have to go see the wedding photographer (We never did get our professional wedding photos, though we may still get them one day). We are gonna make an album. I have a budget and everything. I also have another obstetrician check up same day. These will become a weekly occurrence until I pop this kid, it seems. It’s a bit heavy on my (and the hubby’s, but mostly the hubby’s) pocket.
Then I also have to go see the UIF woman, to finalise my forms and get them to the Dept of Labour. I hope they will deem me worthy of getting some money. Would suck if this was all for naught.
Also, there are a bunch of little things I still need to add to the old hospital bag.
The husband and I went to my parents’ house last weekend. Yes, a 5 hour trip. My mom washed all my baby clothes for me, and we packed them in the required zip lock bags, to ensure there is a nappy, vest and an outfit in each. Well, to be fair, my mom packed everything. I just sort of watched. My mom also made me lasagne, which I asked for. The fast food places and restaurants just can’t make food the way my mom does.
Home sickness is a weird affliction.
My kid has almost more clothes than me now.
The husband has ordered a cot online. That should be here before the baby is. (We hope.)
We are still struggling with estate agents and sellers on the price of the townhouse we want. Either way, we have no idea when we will be able to move in. And, it looks like we will be in my husband’s parents’ house till quite some time after the kid is born. I don’t think this is a bad idea. At least she will be surrounded by loving family, and a support base like that is nothing to sneeze at. More hands to help feed, bathe, burp and clean. Huzzah!
I also speak to my parentals almost daily. They have confirmed that they will be here to support me for almost the whole of December, depending how bored they get. This is great news. I don’t remember much of what they said in the pre-natal classes regarding child care. At least, with my maternity leave, I will have time to read the book I have on that issue.
It seems the office scanner has taken a scanning quality nose dive. I have been unable to get decent scans of the past 2 sonars of the babbie. My apologies, curious masses. I will be putting them into my baby scrapbook, so if anyone ever comes to visit, just ask to see the scrapbook. Rest assured that it looks like a big headed baby. You can’t see much on the sonars anyway: just a big head and some appendages. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I’m still deciding on the QE. To study or not to study, to do it, or not. This will be the last time I have study leave for it. *sigh* Is it worth it?
Can’t wait to get out of here, pity about the mountain of work!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
35 weeks - So far, so good.
The house hunt is on again, in full swing. Hopefully we will have some property in our names by the end of this month. Time will tell. We signed another offer to purchase last night. The last one was unsuccessful. What the people here do not seem to realise is that the property market is in a slump.
The credit act and the global bank crash has had a profound effect on the lending practices of banks here in SA. I.e. less people can afford loans, and the banks are stricter and more loathe granting them. And, as demand for houses decreases, the supply increases. And, that, friends and (soon-to-be) neighbours, is why the general property prices have fallen.
A turn around is expected by around next year April. Some analysts argue that this is an overly optimistic view. In the meantime, people need to realise that what they paid at the beginning of the year, or 2 years prior, is not what they’re gonna get now. Back then the market was in an upward turn, fuelled by the bubble of granting home loans people can’t afford. The credit act has helped shield SA from the brunt of the credit crunch, but no one could have predicted the rise in interest rates (10 times in the last 2 years).
So, what you could afford back then, already stretching your budget to the max, in keeping up with the Joneses, has become the bane of your financial existence now.
This also explains why repossession of property has climbed. Banks have to take and auction what clients can’t afford to maintain.
It seems that the “nesting” effect is kicking into gear for me lately. I find myself organising and reorganising my meagre cupboard space. My current domain is the hubby’s room in his parents’ house. I have half the cupboard and double the drawer space.
Yesterday, when I got the call that we are gonna put in an offer to purchase a home, my imagination went just wild at the prospect of picking out colours and decorating my first ever home. This has been dampened somewhat by the news that we will in all likelihood only be able to move in at the end of January of next year.
I’m sure everything will work out in the end. Patience is a virtua.
There will be another baby scan tomorrow. I wonder what she looks like these days. Just a couple weeks before she swims out to say hi. Hope we’ll have somewhere to put her when she does!
The credit act and the global bank crash has had a profound effect on the lending practices of banks here in SA. I.e. less people can afford loans, and the banks are stricter and more loathe granting them. And, as demand for houses decreases, the supply increases. And, that, friends and (soon-to-be) neighbours, is why the general property prices have fallen.
A turn around is expected by around next year April. Some analysts argue that this is an overly optimistic view. In the meantime, people need to realise that what they paid at the beginning of the year, or 2 years prior, is not what they’re gonna get now. Back then the market was in an upward turn, fuelled by the bubble of granting home loans people can’t afford. The credit act has helped shield SA from the brunt of the credit crunch, but no one could have predicted the rise in interest rates (10 times in the last 2 years).
So, what you could afford back then, already stretching your budget to the max, in keeping up with the Joneses, has become the bane of your financial existence now.
This also explains why repossession of property has climbed. Banks have to take and auction what clients can’t afford to maintain.
It seems that the “nesting” effect is kicking into gear for me lately. I find myself organising and reorganising my meagre cupboard space. My current domain is the hubby’s room in his parents’ house. I have half the cupboard and double the drawer space.
Yesterday, when I got the call that we are gonna put in an offer to purchase a home, my imagination went just wild at the prospect of picking out colours and decorating my first ever home. This has been dampened somewhat by the news that we will in all likelihood only be able to move in at the end of January of next year.
I’m sure everything will work out in the end. Patience is a virtua.
There will be another baby scan tomorrow. I wonder what she looks like these days. Just a couple weeks before she swims out to say hi. Hope we’ll have somewhere to put her when she does!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Insomnia
What I wouldn’t give for the ability to sleep all the way through the night.
I suppose this is a prep for when the kid is here. Maybe I’m supposed to grow empathy for the little alien. It’s not like she will be able to avoid needing to make bathroom visits during the night. My bladder may be small, but hers is minute. And who can sleep with a nappy full of excretions?
It’s more than just the quadruple nightly visits to the bathroom. These mornings, in the wee hours, I wake up and just can’t get back to sleep. Added to this, getting to sleep at night, despite severe fatigue, is also quite a feat. There is much tossing and turning. Well – slow boulder-like rolling from side to side.
I’ve tried the pillows thing between my legs; under my belly, under my back. Nothing seems to work. At least I do get a few hours sleep per night. But, I wake up feeling tired every morning. And, this feeling persists during the day.
I am now around 34 weeks preggers.
There are still 6 weeks to go. That’s a month and a half. From what I understand, these symptoms and afflictions will only become aggravated as time goes on. I also find that driving is not so easy anymore. Sitting at my desk, is likewise not so easy. The belly seems to be in the way most of the time now.
Carrying my PC bag is also becoming more difficult as the days progress. Staying awake at work is not easy. Couple that with my shortness of breath, due to a baby filling up the space where my lungs used to work. I understand the need for maternity leave during the last month of work now.
I wonder if upping my natural sugar intake would help with this feeling of listlessness. Maybe it really is just a sleep thing. I suppose I’ll just have to wait it out. In the meantime, I could get some books to read, to keep me occupied for those sleepless mornings.
In those timeless words, uttered by Faithless: “I can’t get no sleep.”
I suppose this is a prep for when the kid is here. Maybe I’m supposed to grow empathy for the little alien. It’s not like she will be able to avoid needing to make bathroom visits during the night. My bladder may be small, but hers is minute. And who can sleep with a nappy full of excretions?
It’s more than just the quadruple nightly visits to the bathroom. These mornings, in the wee hours, I wake up and just can’t get back to sleep. Added to this, getting to sleep at night, despite severe fatigue, is also quite a feat. There is much tossing and turning. Well – slow boulder-like rolling from side to side.
I’ve tried the pillows thing between my legs; under my belly, under my back. Nothing seems to work. At least I do get a few hours sleep per night. But, I wake up feeling tired every morning. And, this feeling persists during the day.
I am now around 34 weeks preggers.
There are still 6 weeks to go. That’s a month and a half. From what I understand, these symptoms and afflictions will only become aggravated as time goes on. I also find that driving is not so easy anymore. Sitting at my desk, is likewise not so easy. The belly seems to be in the way most of the time now.
Carrying my PC bag is also becoming more difficult as the days progress. Staying awake at work is not easy. Couple that with my shortness of breath, due to a baby filling up the space where my lungs used to work. I understand the need for maternity leave during the last month of work now.
I wonder if upping my natural sugar intake would help with this feeling of listlessness. Maybe it really is just a sleep thing. I suppose I’ll just have to wait it out. In the meantime, I could get some books to read, to keep me occupied for those sleepless mornings.
In those timeless words, uttered by Faithless: “I can’t get no sleep.”
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Essings-blay and being ateful-gray
It often happens that one is blind to something obvious in your life, until it is pointed out.
This happens to me more than I’d like to admit.
Last night, we had ante-natal class. Another natural birthing process (no drugs this time) was screened. Yikes, okay.
To be blunt, I am terrified of the big D Day. I am not a fan of pain. I mean, I don’t know if my threshold is high or low. I mean, some things just hurt me more than others, I guess.
For example, when I need to have blood taken from me, they can never find a vein and have to poke me up to 4 times and scratch around in the veins. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s not like I cry.
When I used to leak, before the pregnancy, I would have to drug myself out before the pain got too bad. There were 2 instances in my life when I didn’t have drugs or access to drugs when I started leaking. I was pale, shaking, foetal position, on the bed, in a trance of pain. Oh yeah, I’m also slightly anaemic.
They do say you fear more that which you have already experienced than something unknown.
Maybe I’m worried for nothing. Maybe the birthing process won’t be so bad, depending on the quality of the drugs I will be knocked out with. I can only hope.
I am lucky because I have a good husband. No, not just good – GREAT. On the upper zenith of awesomeness. When asked if he was gonna be there at the birthing process, he answered the ante-natal lady that he will be there if his wife wants him to, or not – depending on what she needs.
I’m said wife.
Ante-natal lady’s response was then: “Your husband really loves you.”
To which I thought – yes. Yes, he does. *Insert goofy smile here*
On an even lighter note, my baby is now making footprints inside my belly. I can feel her little feet and little hands, and distinguish them from each other now. There is a foot pressing on my left upper belly as I type; very insistent. I wonder if she has enough space in there. I am, after all, a little person.
There is so much in this life to be grateful for, especially when you look at the world news; credit crunch; hurricanes striking leaving people homeless. Yeah, people are fighting in politics right now, but at least there is still a measure of free speech. No one’s been shot for their opinion *yet*, as far as I know. *touch wood*
Six weeks to go before D Day. Healthy baby, healthy mom. Welcoming environment for baby. She has outfits, lotions and potions for when she emerges from her amniotic water bath. I’ll be delivering in a private hospital with a very experienced obstetrician. Maternity leave starts in 2 weeks. My husband is supportive and there for me every step of the way.
Yup, life is good.
This happens to me more than I’d like to admit.
Last night, we had ante-natal class. Another natural birthing process (no drugs this time) was screened. Yikes, okay.
To be blunt, I am terrified of the big D Day. I am not a fan of pain. I mean, I don’t know if my threshold is high or low. I mean, some things just hurt me more than others, I guess.
For example, when I need to have blood taken from me, they can never find a vein and have to poke me up to 4 times and scratch around in the veins. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s not like I cry.
When I used to leak, before the pregnancy, I would have to drug myself out before the pain got too bad. There were 2 instances in my life when I didn’t have drugs or access to drugs when I started leaking. I was pale, shaking, foetal position, on the bed, in a trance of pain. Oh yeah, I’m also slightly anaemic.
They do say you fear more that which you have already experienced than something unknown.
Maybe I’m worried for nothing. Maybe the birthing process won’t be so bad, depending on the quality of the drugs I will be knocked out with. I can only hope.
I am lucky because I have a good husband. No, not just good – GREAT. On the upper zenith of awesomeness. When asked if he was gonna be there at the birthing process, he answered the ante-natal lady that he will be there if his wife wants him to, or not – depending on what she needs.
I’m said wife.
Ante-natal lady’s response was then: “Your husband really loves you.”
To which I thought – yes. Yes, he does. *Insert goofy smile here*
On an even lighter note, my baby is now making footprints inside my belly. I can feel her little feet and little hands, and distinguish them from each other now. There is a foot pressing on my left upper belly as I type; very insistent. I wonder if she has enough space in there. I am, after all, a little person.
There is so much in this life to be grateful for, especially when you look at the world news; credit crunch; hurricanes striking leaving people homeless. Yeah, people are fighting in politics right now, but at least there is still a measure of free speech. No one’s been shot for their opinion *yet*, as far as I know. *touch wood*
Six weeks to go before D Day. Healthy baby, healthy mom. Welcoming environment for baby. She has outfits, lotions and potions for when she emerges from her amniotic water bath. I’ll be delivering in a private hospital with a very experienced obstetrician. Maternity leave starts in 2 weeks. My husband is supportive and there for me every step of the way.
Yup, life is good.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Existential music rant
Is there a distinction between things that make me authentically “me” and things that make me happy?
Try this exercise:
- Compile a list of things that make you uniquely you.
- Now compile a list of things consisting of things you enjoy or love.
- How about a list of things that make you happy?
See, here’s the thing – my lists overlap. But, I suppose that stands to reason when you take into consideration that things you enjoy probably make you happy. … That’s causality for you, folks.
I’m going through another Placebo phase.
Something that has stuck with me, which Brian Molko (lead singer) once said, was that there were way too many tiaras in their crowds. Hee hee. So, does it stand to reason that the people who listen to and love Placebo are all misunderstood, lonely and blissfully oblivious to the real world? It’s called the “Princess complex”.
I love it when Brian tells me that without me, he's nothing. (Not because Brian is saying it, but it’s comforting to hear that – from anyone, in fact.) So, that’s probably how you get stalkers. You get just that little bit detached from reality and suddenly all the lyrics were written specially for you – a person the writer (oftentimes not even the same person as the singer) has never met.
I’m also very attracted to lyrics. Make them colourful, make them deviant, make them morbid! Another favourite of mine is Mr. Manson’s sad song lyrics. For example, have you heard Man That You Fear? It starts out with: “Ants are in the sugar, muscles atrophied, we’re on the other side; the screen is us and we’re TV”.
I love interpreting lyrics. I mean, in most cases, the more cryptic the lyrics, the more multiplied the myriad meanings. I love it!
My husband has bought/ordered me a car radio. If you remember, I became a crime statisticwhen I first moved here. So, I’m anxiously awaiting the opportunity to listen to my music in my car again. Bliss!! Placebo, KoRn, Manson, Radiohead, Rammstein, Seether, Evanescence.
Okay, so maybe I have a bit of a Morbid Princess complex. But, hey – My life rocks right now. I’m a happy morbid princess, content in my perception/delusion of what the world has to offer me and in my daily experiences.
“I’m feeling so anaesthetised in my comfort zone.” – Placebo (The Bitter End)
Try this exercise:
- Compile a list of things that make you uniquely you.
- Now compile a list of things consisting of things you enjoy or love.
- How about a list of things that make you happy?
See, here’s the thing – my lists overlap. But, I suppose that stands to reason when you take into consideration that things you enjoy probably make you happy. … That’s causality for you, folks.
I’m going through another Placebo phase.
Something that has stuck with me, which Brian Molko (lead singer) once said, was that there were way too many tiaras in their crowds. Hee hee. So, does it stand to reason that the people who listen to and love Placebo are all misunderstood, lonely and blissfully oblivious to the real world? It’s called the “Princess complex”.
I love it when Brian tells me that without me, he's nothing. (Not because Brian is saying it, but it’s comforting to hear that – from anyone, in fact.) So, that’s probably how you get stalkers. You get just that little bit detached from reality and suddenly all the lyrics were written specially for you – a person the writer (oftentimes not even the same person as the singer) has never met.
I’m also very attracted to lyrics. Make them colourful, make them deviant, make them morbid! Another favourite of mine is Mr. Manson’s sad song lyrics. For example, have you heard Man That You Fear? It starts out with: “Ants are in the sugar, muscles atrophied, we’re on the other side; the screen is us and we’re TV”.
I love interpreting lyrics. I mean, in most cases, the more cryptic the lyrics, the more multiplied the myriad meanings. I love it!
My husband has bought/ordered me a car radio. If you remember, I became a crime statisticwhen I first moved here. So, I’m anxiously awaiting the opportunity to listen to my music in my car again. Bliss!! Placebo, KoRn, Manson, Radiohead, Rammstein, Seether, Evanescence.
Okay, so maybe I have a bit of a Morbid Princess complex. But, hey – My life rocks right now. I’m a happy morbid princess, content in my perception/delusion of what the world has to offer me and in my daily experiences.
“I’m feeling so anaesthetised in my comfort zone.” – Placebo (The Bitter End)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Moving parts
Last night, I experienced yet another perception change.
The nurse at the ante-natal class was talking about the dangers of not feeling any foetal movement, and how we pregnant ladies must be aware of the movement, or more specifically – lack thereof.
She further intoned that this is a very special time in our lives. We should cherish it. As it will probably only come around once or twice in our lives. (Three if we are brave). Never before and never again will we ever be this close to another human being.
I have tried to be aware of the acrobat inside me. She still somersaults, and punches and kicks. At some point soon, once she settles, I should be able to make an educated guess regarding where her head is positioned and where her feet are. Towards the end, I may even see little foot prints and handprints bulging my insides.
Last night / this morning, I had an awful nightmare. Then, I couldn’t sleep. This morning, I can’t remember the details, but I remember that it was awful.
In the tub this morning, as I went belly up to enjoy what little warmth I could, my baby seemed to be rolling around in my stomach. The nurse told us to talk to the uterus-bound kids. I don’t really have much to say to her. “How’s it hanging?”
** sigh **
I’m just tired. It’s not even that I’m okay in the morning and sleepy from 11am anymore. I wake up tired, and stay that way all day. By lunch I wanna crawl into bed. This can’t be right. Maybe maternity leave will be just the thing.
Overheard: “First time poppers usually get their babies a week or 2 early.”
So, why haven’t I read this in a book somewhere?
The nurse at the ante-natal class was talking about the dangers of not feeling any foetal movement, and how we pregnant ladies must be aware of the movement, or more specifically – lack thereof.
She further intoned that this is a very special time in our lives. We should cherish it. As it will probably only come around once or twice in our lives. (Three if we are brave). Never before and never again will we ever be this close to another human being.
I have tried to be aware of the acrobat inside me. She still somersaults, and punches and kicks. At some point soon, once she settles, I should be able to make an educated guess regarding where her head is positioned and where her feet are. Towards the end, I may even see little foot prints and handprints bulging my insides.
Last night / this morning, I had an awful nightmare. Then, I couldn’t sleep. This morning, I can’t remember the details, but I remember that it was awful.
In the tub this morning, as I went belly up to enjoy what little warmth I could, my baby seemed to be rolling around in my stomach. The nurse told us to talk to the uterus-bound kids. I don’t really have much to say to her. “How’s it hanging?”
** sigh **
I’m just tired. It’s not even that I’m okay in the morning and sleepy from 11am anymore. I wake up tired, and stay that way all day. By lunch I wanna crawl into bed. This can’t be right. Maybe maternity leave will be just the thing.
Overheard: “First time poppers usually get their babies a week or 2 early.”
So, why haven’t I read this in a book somewhere?
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Ready, set, POP!
In just a couple weeks, I’m gonna be somebody’s mom.
I am now 31 weeks pregnant. My stomach is huge, my fingers and feet swell. I can’t stand or sit for long. And when I deign to stand, I have urgent water-passing urges. Sleeping all the way through the night is something of the past. Lying on my back or stomach are likewise, stuff the past is made of. I am the Michelin man.
I have made an appointment to have my large body photographed. It was in one of my “free stuff” packages – A voucher for professional pregnancy pics. I’d really like the husband to be there, so I will have to move it, as the initial date clashes with exams. Ah well. I wonder what I should wear…
Yesterday I had water aerobics again. It is only for 45 minutes every time. And yet, when I get out of the swimming pool I have this overwhelming urge to sleep, and a deeply rooted tiredness, saturating my bones and muscle.
My weight remains stable. For the sake of my tame hippo physique, I hope that the better part of the weight gain has now come to an end. I’m pretty sure the aching feet is a direct result of the weight I now lug around with me. Next year this time, however, I will be bikini ready. Watch this space.
I am now once again office bound at work; which rocks, by the way. I am unfazed by the heat wave going on outside, as there is an awesome piece of air conditioning equipment in this little office. The water cooler and bathrooms are mere metres away. And, the support at the office has been wonderful. I am yet to be reprimanded for anything. I have only received praise. And this, in turn, has made me want to work all the more harder, be better.
Last night, I also worked on my scrapbook. But, I soon realised, if I am to have continuity in it, I will need to have more pix printed; especially of my weekly expanding stomach. I have been taking pix of myself sporadically. So, I am quite eager to arrange them by date to see the growth. (Yes, a benign tumour fills my gut!)
A side effect of the family I married into involves being aware of local politics now. Things are heating up on the home front. I wonder what is going to happen next. So, these days, I watch the daily news, and read the papers, especially the online ones. I read what the columnists have to say. (Then I am briefly appalled by some of the language, spelling errors and even swearing I’ve come across; shocking to say the least!) Unfortunately, I have not been privy to any insider info, as it were. But, such is life.
The parentals were here this past weekend. It was awesome. I went baby stuff shopping with my mom. We got some babygro’s, vests, blankets and towels. Anything and everything a little babbie and her mom would need. I also got all the creams, lotions and potions. I think we spent around 2 and a half grand in total. Yikes. And, the kid isn’t even here yet. On the upside, I can now pack for the hospital. After all, I have 9 weeks till D day… Time to get busy.
The jury isn’t out yet on the method of poppage that will be used. I would like to go the path of least resistance and pain, as far as possible. Time and circumstance will tell.
May I please request an epidural for the epidural?
I am now 31 weeks pregnant. My stomach is huge, my fingers and feet swell. I can’t stand or sit for long. And when I deign to stand, I have urgent water-passing urges. Sleeping all the way through the night is something of the past. Lying on my back or stomach are likewise, stuff the past is made of. I am the Michelin man.
I have made an appointment to have my large body photographed. It was in one of my “free stuff” packages – A voucher for professional pregnancy pics. I’d really like the husband to be there, so I will have to move it, as the initial date clashes with exams. Ah well. I wonder what I should wear…
Yesterday I had water aerobics again. It is only for 45 minutes every time. And yet, when I get out of the swimming pool I have this overwhelming urge to sleep, and a deeply rooted tiredness, saturating my bones and muscle.
My weight remains stable. For the sake of my tame hippo physique, I hope that the better part of the weight gain has now come to an end. I’m pretty sure the aching feet is a direct result of the weight I now lug around with me. Next year this time, however, I will be bikini ready. Watch this space.
I am now once again office bound at work; which rocks, by the way. I am unfazed by the heat wave going on outside, as there is an awesome piece of air conditioning equipment in this little office. The water cooler and bathrooms are mere metres away. And, the support at the office has been wonderful. I am yet to be reprimanded for anything. I have only received praise. And this, in turn, has made me want to work all the more harder, be better.
Last night, I also worked on my scrapbook. But, I soon realised, if I am to have continuity in it, I will need to have more pix printed; especially of my weekly expanding stomach. I have been taking pix of myself sporadically. So, I am quite eager to arrange them by date to see the growth. (Yes, a benign tumour fills my gut!)
A side effect of the family I married into involves being aware of local politics now. Things are heating up on the home front. I wonder what is going to happen next. So, these days, I watch the daily news, and read the papers, especially the online ones. I read what the columnists have to say. (Then I am briefly appalled by some of the language, spelling errors and even swearing I’ve come across; shocking to say the least!) Unfortunately, I have not been privy to any insider info, as it were. But, such is life.
The parentals were here this past weekend. It was awesome. I went baby stuff shopping with my mom. We got some babygro’s, vests, blankets and towels. Anything and everything a little babbie and her mom would need. I also got all the creams, lotions and potions. I think we spent around 2 and a half grand in total. Yikes. And, the kid isn’t even here yet. On the upside, I can now pack for the hospital. After all, I have 9 weeks till D day… Time to get busy.
The jury isn’t out yet on the method of poppage that will be used. I would like to go the path of least resistance and pain, as far as possible. Time and circumstance will tell.
May I please request an epidural for the epidural?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Another day in the life…
There are a few joys to being with child. Bear with me as I attempt to list some of them. Mkay?
For one thing, there are a lot of “pregnancy packs”. This translates to “free stuff”. I’ve gotten some interesting things from various institutions. For example, I went to the hospital yesterday to book a bed for D Day. Inside the “congrats-you’re-gonna-be-someone’s-mom” package there was a pregnancy diary. It’s quite cute. Pity they didn’t give it to me in the 1st month.
Other pregnancy packs I’ve received included vitamins I wasn’t sure I should be taking. A nappy. Some sweets. Bum cream (for baby). A small tub of Vaseline. No clothes though, which I think is a bit of a pity.
Another awesome plus is the lessened guilt when I eat. I mean, I’ve been eating more veggies and fruit lately, drinking more water. So, when I have the odd burger, it’s okay, you know – coz next year, the diet and exercise Nazi-like regime is back on in earnest.
The hubby and hugs that come with him aren’t too shabby either. But, that’s not necessarily a pregnancy thing.
I don’t know if the enormous mammories is a plus for me. It’s just been expensive upsizing my undies. I preferred my C cups, kthnx. I hope I will retain some firmness after all the offspring are off the boobie feedings.
There is some attention.
Personally, I’m hoping for more free stuff. This baby having thing is a seriously expensive endeavour. Sigh – medical bills.
This does not hold true for everyone, but my skin has cleared up nicely. Hormonal balance is a good thing.
Then there are the baby scans. To those I haven’t mentioned it yet, it was SOO CUUTE!! When I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office yesterday, my baby was kicking me like mad. I think it may have been the guavas I had for breakfast – very sweet. Every time I eat something sweet, 15mins later, baby is awake and kicking. Either she likes the sweet stuff, or she doesn’t. Guess I’ll find out soon enough. Both her parents love sweet stuff. So… I’m not too worried.
ANYHOO, so, when I get onto the table for the scan, the doctor puts the gel on my now ginormous stomach. Onto the screen pops black, white and grey images of the tenant in my tummy. It seems all that kicking had tired her out, coz the first thing she does, is to give a big yawn. Then she starts nomming on her tiny little fist. It was SOO ADORABLE. I have a scan picture.
It seems that one can even make videos of the scan visits. I’m gonna enquire about that for the next visit. Which will be on hubby’s birthday – remember remember the 5th of November.
My baby has a little button nose. And, she has tiny little lips; proportionally bigger lips than mine. Maybe we should call her Angelina … NAH.
Jury isn’t out yet on the baby name we will be ending up with. It’s a large responsibility that – choosing the name someone will be stuck with for the rest of their life. Ah well. I suppose I will have made a choice by the time she pops out.
I still am yet to experience any serious cons to this pregnancy. It’s been mostly pros. Guess I’m lucky that way.
For one thing, there are a lot of “pregnancy packs”. This translates to “free stuff”. I’ve gotten some interesting things from various institutions. For example, I went to the hospital yesterday to book a bed for D Day. Inside the “congrats-you’re-gonna-be-someone’s-mom” package there was a pregnancy diary. It’s quite cute. Pity they didn’t give it to me in the 1st month.
Other pregnancy packs I’ve received included vitamins I wasn’t sure I should be taking. A nappy. Some sweets. Bum cream (for baby). A small tub of Vaseline. No clothes though, which I think is a bit of a pity.
Another awesome plus is the lessened guilt when I eat. I mean, I’ve been eating more veggies and fruit lately, drinking more water. So, when I have the odd burger, it’s okay, you know – coz next year, the diet and exercise Nazi-like regime is back on in earnest.
The hubby and hugs that come with him aren’t too shabby either. But, that’s not necessarily a pregnancy thing.
I don’t know if the enormous mammories is a plus for me. It’s just been expensive upsizing my undies. I preferred my C cups, kthnx. I hope I will retain some firmness after all the offspring are off the boobie feedings.
There is some attention.
Personally, I’m hoping for more free stuff. This baby having thing is a seriously expensive endeavour. Sigh – medical bills.
This does not hold true for everyone, but my skin has cleared up nicely. Hormonal balance is a good thing.
Then there are the baby scans. To those I haven’t mentioned it yet, it was SOO CUUTE!! When I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office yesterday, my baby was kicking me like mad. I think it may have been the guavas I had for breakfast – very sweet. Every time I eat something sweet, 15mins later, baby is awake and kicking. Either she likes the sweet stuff, or she doesn’t. Guess I’ll find out soon enough. Both her parents love sweet stuff. So… I’m not too worried.
ANYHOO, so, when I get onto the table for the scan, the doctor puts the gel on my now ginormous stomach. Onto the screen pops black, white and grey images of the tenant in my tummy. It seems all that kicking had tired her out, coz the first thing she does, is to give a big yawn. Then she starts nomming on her tiny little fist. It was SOO ADORABLE. I have a scan picture.
It seems that one can even make videos of the scan visits. I’m gonna enquire about that for the next visit. Which will be on hubby’s birthday – remember remember the 5th of November.
My baby has a little button nose. And, she has tiny little lips; proportionally bigger lips than mine. Maybe we should call her Angelina … NAH.
Jury isn’t out yet on the baby name we will be ending up with. It’s a large responsibility that – choosing the name someone will be stuck with for the rest of their life. Ah well. I suppose I will have made a choice by the time she pops out.
I still am yet to experience any serious cons to this pregnancy. It’s been mostly pros. Guess I’m lucky that way.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Week 30
Another milestone!
What’s it like to be 30 weeks preggers?
Every time I drink a beverage these days, I seem to get nauseous for a while. (To such a degree, that I have actually made a couple hasty trips to the throne room lately, just in case.) We are in the final stages of this pregnancy, ladies and gents. 10 more weeks to go. I have gained an understanding of what is meant with the “can-we-get-this-over-with-already” attitude most pregnant women will experience at some point or another.
For one, I’m tired of being huge. The beached whale effect is not so awesome. I have trouble getting up and rolling over. It’s always accompanied by much effort on my part. And, there isn’t always someone around to help me.
On the upside, my weight seems to have stabilised a bit again. I hope this will remain the case over the next couple weeks. I can’t afford to get much bigger or heavier. I’m a tiny person. I already feel like I’m gonna fall over half the time.
On Wednesday, I am going for my next ante-natal visit. I’m very excited. Not only will my paranoia about foetal movement be alleviated a bit, but we may be able to see her face more clearly this time. I’m not thrilled about the cost, but I suppose this is a necessary evil. The husband said he will be there, so I feel much better about that as well.
Another thing that is getting to me is the fatigue. I am tired most of the time. Not that I’m all that active. This overwhelming urge to sleep the days away is not so welcome in a corporative setting. People have been very understanding, surprisingly. But, I still wish I only needed to be here in the mornings. By 11am I’m ready to head back to bed on most days.
Including this week, I have 6 more weeks till maternity leave. 10 more weeks until I pop. Time is dragging asp again.
Look out for new baby scans by the end of this week. It’s sonar time again! ^_^
As I told the husband the other day: overall, being preggers isn't so bad. I mean, my eating is a lot more guilt free. People are super nice to me and do things for me more freely. There has been much undrestanding. And, the nausea isn't so bad. It could have been a lot worse. I don't really suffer from most of the ailments my pregnancy books talk about. So, I'm lucky in that sense. There's the paid maternity leave, and the hope for a UIF payment as well!
So, don't get me wrong, friends. It's all worth it when you look at those tiny hands and feet on the screen. Or, see that little face and hear that little heartbeat. I'm sure parenting is gonna be very rewarding. She is a cute little thing already. And, she isn't even out yet.
I'm gonna be somebody's mom.
*awe*
What’s it like to be 30 weeks preggers?
Every time I drink a beverage these days, I seem to get nauseous for a while. (To such a degree, that I have actually made a couple hasty trips to the throne room lately, just in case.) We are in the final stages of this pregnancy, ladies and gents. 10 more weeks to go. I have gained an understanding of what is meant with the “can-we-get-this-over-with-already” attitude most pregnant women will experience at some point or another.
For one, I’m tired of being huge. The beached whale effect is not so awesome. I have trouble getting up and rolling over. It’s always accompanied by much effort on my part. And, there isn’t always someone around to help me.
On the upside, my weight seems to have stabilised a bit again. I hope this will remain the case over the next couple weeks. I can’t afford to get much bigger or heavier. I’m a tiny person. I already feel like I’m gonna fall over half the time.
On Wednesday, I am going for my next ante-natal visit. I’m very excited. Not only will my paranoia about foetal movement be alleviated a bit, but we may be able to see her face more clearly this time. I’m not thrilled about the cost, but I suppose this is a necessary evil. The husband said he will be there, so I feel much better about that as well.
Another thing that is getting to me is the fatigue. I am tired most of the time. Not that I’m all that active. This overwhelming urge to sleep the days away is not so welcome in a corporative setting. People have been very understanding, surprisingly. But, I still wish I only needed to be here in the mornings. By 11am I’m ready to head back to bed on most days.
Including this week, I have 6 more weeks till maternity leave. 10 more weeks until I pop. Time is dragging asp again.
Look out for new baby scans by the end of this week. It’s sonar time again! ^_^
As I told the husband the other day: overall, being preggers isn't so bad. I mean, my eating is a lot more guilt free. People are super nice to me and do things for me more freely. There has been much undrestanding. And, the nausea isn't so bad. It could have been a lot worse. I don't really suffer from most of the ailments my pregnancy books talk about. So, I'm lucky in that sense. There's the paid maternity leave, and the hope for a UIF payment as well!
So, don't get me wrong, friends. It's all worth it when you look at those tiny hands and feet on the screen. Or, see that little face and hear that little heartbeat. I'm sure parenting is gonna be very rewarding. She is a cute little thing already. And, she isn't even out yet.
I'm gonna be somebody's mom.
*awe*
Friday, October 3, 2008
a pregnant rant
No, no, I didn’t drop off the mortal coil or anything. I’ve just been a bit burdened under the epic load of work that I’ve been allocated. It happens.
(Well, that and a new addiction.)
As the weeks pass, my abdominal area has been steadily increasing in size. I look like the oros man; but less orange, more pale.
I’m looking forward to my next doctor’s visit, next week Wednesday; another sneak peak at the little princess in uterus-al comfort. The jury isn’t out yet on whether my partner in parenting will be able to accompany me. Leave benefits for impending parenthood sure are skewed.
For example, I get to claim sick leave every time I go for my monthly (well, 6 weekly, coz I can’t afford going monthly) doctor’s visits. The husband has to book annual leave if he wants to accompany me. Both of us only get 15 days annual a year. Now, is it fair that he has to miss hearing the heartbeat, seeing the scans, and holding my hand because of these outdated laws?
It annoys the living stuffing out of me that I may have to go to the next visit by myself; sit in the waiting room by myself; not have my significant other to share the oohs and aahs with. It’s ridiculous.
(Did I make the kid by myself? Noooooo.)
We don’t have any more annual leave, we got married this year. We only took 3 days each for that. Leave has to accumulate, you see.
Paternity leave vs. maternity leave: Correct me if I’m mistaken, but I think in this country, if an impending mom has worked for a company for a minimum of 1 year, she can get 4 months maternity. By law, the dad is only allowed a minimum of 3 days paternity leave. This is for when the spawnling makes it’s anxiously awaited appearance.
3 days.
I hear the 1st 6 weeks of post birth activity are the most demanding and emotionally and physically draining for the new mom. And, she has do it alone, coz the husband has to be at work? Why wasn’t I born a trust fund baby?
Don’t get me started on the expense!
Every visit costs a minimum of R1,200. Everything is billed separately. Doctor’s consultation. Blood test. Urine test. Sonar. It’s a brilliant money-making system. My ridiculous medical aid, while still usurping R1,200 per month from me before I even receive my pay cheque, has stopped paying these bills on the 1st visit. The reason? Benefits have been exhausted. You know, coz my day to day is only R1,280 per year. Per YEAR. That includes dental, doctors, optometrist, everything. It’s ridiculous. (The frame alone of my prior set of glasses was 2 grand. WTH?)
I am studying, pregnant, working. My disposable income after deductions is embarrassingly close to zero. It’s even negative some months. It makes me wonder what exactly the point to me working is. Coz, I don’t see any of the money. Most of it is deducted before it even reaches my bank account.
And, don’t get me started on the money making racket the bank is! Including but not limited to: Monthly “management” fees, stop order fees, “handling” fees, interest. My bank costs are close to R200 per month. And for WHAT?
Hey, I’m just trying to make an honest living here. The hubby and I are dual income, and living at his parents’ house for FREE, but making ends meet is becoming a nightmarish ordeal.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t do the research or something. I went to every banking website and compared costs for all the products I use. Guess what – they all put the screws on the same. If one’s interest rate is 1% higher or lower, they just make up the difference on the annual “card fee” or “management fees”. The differences between them are negligible. Therefore, it’s not worth the effort (and cost!) of switching banks.
The medical aid is compulsory.
The studies (at a grand a month) are also compulsory. It’s in the old service contract.
Tax is also compulsory.
So, what if I just quit my job? Yikes.
-I suppose I could go to government health institutions for free. Maybe contract TB in the waiting room, HIV by inadequately trained staff in inadequately staffed and stocked clinics.
- I suppose I could queue all day for a week in a room full of sick people, on a first come first served basis, it’s not like I’d be working.
- I wouldn’t be able to afford to study any further, therefore making the chartered accountancy designation evade me forever, despite the LARGE need for more of those in this country. I don’t know why education is so expensive anyway.
- No more work, no more tax for the government to misspend, or corrupt politicians to line their pockets with. (Don’t get me started on the mismanagement of tax funds. I see it every day in my occupation. It’s SCARY: Unqualified people making questionable, fraudulent and illegal choices.)
People who DO go to the free clinics pay absolutely nothing. They get their consultations, procedures 100% free. There isn’t even a co-pay. Whereas the tax paying citizens are not only paying outrageous amounts in tax (not really paying, more like the money gets jacked before you even get your pay cheque), but are forced to join costly medical aids, and then still pay for medical care, as the funds just don’t cover the medical basics.
I’m just broke, tired, uncomfortable and irritable. Don’t mind me.
Post script
In this country, it is illegal for an employer to make a husband work while his wife/girlfriend/mother of his child is in labour. Comforting. Barely.
(Well, that and a new addiction.)
As the weeks pass, my abdominal area has been steadily increasing in size. I look like the oros man; but less orange, more pale.
I’m looking forward to my next doctor’s visit, next week Wednesday; another sneak peak at the little princess in uterus-al comfort. The jury isn’t out yet on whether my partner in parenting will be able to accompany me. Leave benefits for impending parenthood sure are skewed.
For example, I get to claim sick leave every time I go for my monthly (well, 6 weekly, coz I can’t afford going monthly) doctor’s visits. The husband has to book annual leave if he wants to accompany me. Both of us only get 15 days annual a year. Now, is it fair that he has to miss hearing the heartbeat, seeing the scans, and holding my hand because of these outdated laws?
It annoys the living stuffing out of me that I may have to go to the next visit by myself; sit in the waiting room by myself; not have my significant other to share the oohs and aahs with. It’s ridiculous.
(Did I make the kid by myself? Noooooo.)
We don’t have any more annual leave, we got married this year. We only took 3 days each for that. Leave has to accumulate, you see.
Paternity leave vs. maternity leave: Correct me if I’m mistaken, but I think in this country, if an impending mom has worked for a company for a minimum of 1 year, she can get 4 months maternity. By law, the dad is only allowed a minimum of 3 days paternity leave. This is for when the spawnling makes it’s anxiously awaited appearance.
3 days.
I hear the 1st 6 weeks of post birth activity are the most demanding and emotionally and physically draining for the new mom. And, she has do it alone, coz the husband has to be at work? Why wasn’t I born a trust fund baby?
Don’t get me started on the expense!
Every visit costs a minimum of R1,200. Everything is billed separately. Doctor’s consultation. Blood test. Urine test. Sonar. It’s a brilliant money-making system. My ridiculous medical aid, while still usurping R1,200 per month from me before I even receive my pay cheque, has stopped paying these bills on the 1st visit. The reason? Benefits have been exhausted. You know, coz my day to day is only R1,280 per year. Per YEAR. That includes dental, doctors, optometrist, everything. It’s ridiculous. (The frame alone of my prior set of glasses was 2 grand. WTH?)
I am studying, pregnant, working. My disposable income after deductions is embarrassingly close to zero. It’s even negative some months. It makes me wonder what exactly the point to me working is. Coz, I don’t see any of the money. Most of it is deducted before it even reaches my bank account.
And, don’t get me started on the money making racket the bank is! Including but not limited to: Monthly “management” fees, stop order fees, “handling” fees, interest. My bank costs are close to R200 per month. And for WHAT?
Hey, I’m just trying to make an honest living here. The hubby and I are dual income, and living at his parents’ house for FREE, but making ends meet is becoming a nightmarish ordeal.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t do the research or something. I went to every banking website and compared costs for all the products I use. Guess what – they all put the screws on the same. If one’s interest rate is 1% higher or lower, they just make up the difference on the annual “card fee” or “management fees”. The differences between them are negligible. Therefore, it’s not worth the effort (and cost!) of switching banks.
The medical aid is compulsory.
The studies (at a grand a month) are also compulsory. It’s in the old service contract.
Tax is also compulsory.
So, what if I just quit my job? Yikes.
-I suppose I could go to government health institutions for free. Maybe contract TB in the waiting room, HIV by inadequately trained staff in inadequately staffed and stocked clinics.
- I suppose I could queue all day for a week in a room full of sick people, on a first come first served basis, it’s not like I’d be working.
- I wouldn’t be able to afford to study any further, therefore making the chartered accountancy designation evade me forever, despite the LARGE need for more of those in this country. I don’t know why education is so expensive anyway.
- No more work, no more tax for the government to misspend, or corrupt politicians to line their pockets with. (Don’t get me started on the mismanagement of tax funds. I see it every day in my occupation. It’s SCARY: Unqualified people making questionable, fraudulent and illegal choices.)
People who DO go to the free clinics pay absolutely nothing. They get their consultations, procedures 100% free. There isn’t even a co-pay. Whereas the tax paying citizens are not only paying outrageous amounts in tax (not really paying, more like the money gets jacked before you even get your pay cheque), but are forced to join costly medical aids, and then still pay for medical care, as the funds just don’t cover the medical basics.
I’m just broke, tired, uncomfortable and irritable. Don’t mind me.
Post script
In this country, it is illegal for an employer to make a husband work while his wife/girlfriend/mother of his child is in labour. Comforting. Barely.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Even more vivid dreams
Since I’ve been pregnant, my dreams have become incredibly detailed, colourful, real.
The other night, there were snakes everywhere. And a horned pale green one chasing me. Every time it got close to me, I would freeze. It was after me. I was supposed to pack some things for a trip, but everywhere I touched, were tiny wormy red and black, black and yellow snakes. Not fun.
This morning, I dreamt that 2 of my most esteemed and kind hearted colleagues had double teamed up on a girl, a little blonde thing. Then, they had consensually deflowered her. The dream has me yelling at them from my soap box how irresponsible what they have done is. And, that it was a gift for her one day husband, etc. She just sat there on the floor, looking dazed and confused.
Then there was the dream that my husband was forcefully and with intent trying to hurt the baby by squeezing on my stomach. So much so, that it was painful to me. This happened twice, then I woke up.
A recurring theme has been my husband cheating on me, leaving me, abandoning me. Usually an ex features. And usually he is callous towards me, uncaring.
My pregnancy books say that these dreams during pregnancy are usually an expression of one’s most deeply rooted fears.
Well, the snake dream is easily explained away. I was reading a short story about a man with a deadly snake slumbering on his stomach, scared out of his mind. I fell asleep with the book on the bed.
This morning’s dream… is a bit more random. I’ve been discussing old time values and so on with one of the client personnel. So, the neurons could be firing off on that. It bothers me when I hear of infidelity and shameless irresponsible actions; especially where trust is broken. It just cuts deep.
And, of course, I have abandonment issues. I usually end up being left by my significant other, as a result of being too clingy. Usually.
These clear dreams have been a blessing and a curse.
There have been more nights than I’d like to count, when I wake up from an abandonment nightmare. Then, with murder in my eyes, I abruptly move away from the husband. He, of course, oblivious to the wrong doings he had committed in my dreams. But, it feels so REAL.
Then, when I have the other nightmares, it’s nice to have someone’s chest to hide in and someone to hold onto when one is scared right out of your mind.
See? Blessing and curse.
The pregnancy books say most people dream about the coming baby.
That only happened to me in the beginning. I wonder, as the time approaches, will I have more baby related dreams? Or, will it always just be all about me?
The other night, there were snakes everywhere. And a horned pale green one chasing me. Every time it got close to me, I would freeze. It was after me. I was supposed to pack some things for a trip, but everywhere I touched, were tiny wormy red and black, black and yellow snakes. Not fun.
This morning, I dreamt that 2 of my most esteemed and kind hearted colleagues had double teamed up on a girl, a little blonde thing. Then, they had consensually deflowered her. The dream has me yelling at them from my soap box how irresponsible what they have done is. And, that it was a gift for her one day husband, etc. She just sat there on the floor, looking dazed and confused.
Then there was the dream that my husband was forcefully and with intent trying to hurt the baby by squeezing on my stomach. So much so, that it was painful to me. This happened twice, then I woke up.
A recurring theme has been my husband cheating on me, leaving me, abandoning me. Usually an ex features. And usually he is callous towards me, uncaring.
My pregnancy books say that these dreams during pregnancy are usually an expression of one’s most deeply rooted fears.
Well, the snake dream is easily explained away. I was reading a short story about a man with a deadly snake slumbering on his stomach, scared out of his mind. I fell asleep with the book on the bed.
This morning’s dream… is a bit more random. I’ve been discussing old time values and so on with one of the client personnel. So, the neurons could be firing off on that. It bothers me when I hear of infidelity and shameless irresponsible actions; especially where trust is broken. It just cuts deep.
And, of course, I have abandonment issues. I usually end up being left by my significant other, as a result of being too clingy. Usually.
These clear dreams have been a blessing and a curse.
There have been more nights than I’d like to count, when I wake up from an abandonment nightmare. Then, with murder in my eyes, I abruptly move away from the husband. He, of course, oblivious to the wrong doings he had committed in my dreams. But, it feels so REAL.
Then, when I have the other nightmares, it’s nice to have someone’s chest to hide in and someone to hold onto when one is scared right out of your mind.
See? Blessing and curse.
The pregnancy books say most people dream about the coming baby.
That only happened to me in the beginning. I wonder, as the time approaches, will I have more baby related dreams? Or, will it always just be all about me?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Pregnant pause
Ravaged by medical costs, this month is turning out to be a bit on the thin side, other than my (34%) body fat. Sigh. It seems that pay day just can’t get here soon enough.
Tax season is also here. I’m anxiously awaiting my tax return. I expect that I will have a huge payment to make, because my prior employer did not deduct the tax from travel claims received. About R5,000. Last year it was a Christmas surprise, and all my holiday money went with it. This year, I am prepared.
Also, we had our first ante-natal class last night. Somehow, I got the times wrong, and we were half an hour late. Somehow, we didn’t miss much. It was about breastfeeding, and the first couple days after birth. I don’t know if I’m gonna be having more kids, if the stuff about bursting, broken and bleeding nipples is true. But, I have no reason to doubt the nurse who presents the class.
I’ve been going to gym every now and again. I saw online that the ideal workout should not exceed 145 heartbeats per minute for us pregnant ladies. I usually exercise at 120. More than that makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something. So, yeah.
I’ve also learned that the best kind of exercise for me to get, would be water aerobics. Luckily, the gym does offer these classes. Unluckily, all 3 sets of my pre-pregnancy bikinis no longer fit. So, I’m gonna have to make a plan. I look forward to this class, though. The instructor seems friendly and well versed with this stuff. She has had some babies of her own. Her tips and knowledge have been invaluable.
Next year, once I’ve popped, I’m gonna be getting back into shape, post haste. I just don’t wanna be too hard on myself now regarding my weight. But, I can’t help but feel I’ve gone to the dark side of obesity. My pre-pregnancy BMI was about 20, which bordered on under-weight. Now, it’s 29,oh-my-god-30-is-obese-and-I’m-decimal-points-away-from-it!
I’ve gained 20 kilograms since I got pregnant, and I’m not even in my 3rd trimester yet. That can’t be good. My husband said I shouldn’t worry so much; I’m too vain to become a fatty. ^_^ (That’s not a direct quote or anything, just a paraphrase.) To myself, I don’t look grotesquely obese, but the indicators are worrying me.
I’m solidly booked on work for the next 9 weeks. My maternity leave starts on the 17th of November. After hearing about 3 – 4 hour breastfeeding frequency last night, I’m having serious misgivings about my ability to pass QE next year. It’s gonna be … nigh impossible, despite having all that time off. The story goes that I will be physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausted trying to take care of my little ninja.
I have 9 more weeks of work, then I’m off. I can’t wait.
Post script
Just a note to all the survivors of 9/11; It’s been 7 years. We pray for you all.
Tax season is also here. I’m anxiously awaiting my tax return. I expect that I will have a huge payment to make, because my prior employer did not deduct the tax from travel claims received. About R5,000. Last year it was a Christmas surprise, and all my holiday money went with it. This year, I am prepared.
Also, we had our first ante-natal class last night. Somehow, I got the times wrong, and we were half an hour late. Somehow, we didn’t miss much. It was about breastfeeding, and the first couple days after birth. I don’t know if I’m gonna be having more kids, if the stuff about bursting, broken and bleeding nipples is true. But, I have no reason to doubt the nurse who presents the class.
I’ve been going to gym every now and again. I saw online that the ideal workout should not exceed 145 heartbeats per minute for us pregnant ladies. I usually exercise at 120. More than that makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something. So, yeah.
I’ve also learned that the best kind of exercise for me to get, would be water aerobics. Luckily, the gym does offer these classes. Unluckily, all 3 sets of my pre-pregnancy bikinis no longer fit. So, I’m gonna have to make a plan. I look forward to this class, though. The instructor seems friendly and well versed with this stuff. She has had some babies of her own. Her tips and knowledge have been invaluable.
Next year, once I’ve popped, I’m gonna be getting back into shape, post haste. I just don’t wanna be too hard on myself now regarding my weight. But, I can’t help but feel I’ve gone to the dark side of obesity. My pre-pregnancy BMI was about 20, which bordered on under-weight. Now, it’s 29,oh-my-god-30-is-obese-and-I’m-decimal-points-away-from-it!
I’ve gained 20 kilograms since I got pregnant, and I’m not even in my 3rd trimester yet. That can’t be good. My husband said I shouldn’t worry so much; I’m too vain to become a fatty. ^_^ (That’s not a direct quote or anything, just a paraphrase.) To myself, I don’t look grotesquely obese, but the indicators are worrying me.
I’m solidly booked on work for the next 9 weeks. My maternity leave starts on the 17th of November. After hearing about 3 – 4 hour breastfeeding frequency last night, I’m having serious misgivings about my ability to pass QE next year. It’s gonna be … nigh impossible, despite having all that time off. The story goes that I will be physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausted trying to take care of my little ninja.
I have 9 more weeks of work, then I’m off. I can’t wait.
Post script
Just a note to all the survivors of 9/11; It’s been 7 years. We pray for you all.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Another 1st
Last night, while in bed, my baby was visciously kicking me / exercising her limbs inside my tummy.
Usually the kicks are infrequent, and difficult to project when or where she will strike.
But, this time, she seemed quite insistent, with 1-2-3 little bumps on my inside being felt, all in a row, all around the same place - lower abdomen. I told the hubby to put his hand flat "right here", which he did.
To which I then asked: "Did you feel that?" Him: "No." Me: "Did you feel THAT?" Him: "No." (insert frustrated sigh here) Me: "How about that one, did you feel that one?" Him, smiling: "Yes, I felt it."
So, last night, for the 1st time, my husband felt our baby kicking the juice out of my insides. Magical moment.
The kicks and punches have become more frequent and more pronounced. With 3 months to go, I can only imagine that it will become even more so.
What a little athlete!
Usually the kicks are infrequent, and difficult to project when or where she will strike.
But, this time, she seemed quite insistent, with 1-2-3 little bumps on my inside being felt, all in a row, all around the same place - lower abdomen. I told the hubby to put his hand flat "right here", which he did.
To which I then asked: "Did you feel that?" Him: "No." Me: "Did you feel THAT?" Him: "No." (insert frustrated sigh here) Me: "How about that one, did you feel that one?" Him, smiling: "Yes, I felt it."
So, last night, for the 1st time, my husband felt our baby kicking the juice out of my insides. Magical moment.
The kicks and punches have become more frequent and more pronounced. With 3 months to go, I can only imagine that it will become even more so.
What a little athlete!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
When in Rome
There is a problem with the interwebz here. It malingers in and out of consciousness. This has become very annoying.
News on the pregnancy: I went to the gym last night. No no – not to exercise, goodness forbid! Just to check things out and see what is available at what price.
I pointed to my stomach, and intoned, in my best Captain Obvious Voice, “Highly Pregnant.” The overly excited sales person / “consultant” then started going off on a tangent about how yoga is very good for pregnant ladies, in fact they have a class on now, and at this special special rate, you could join now, at as very little as so much per session, or so much per month. All you have to do is sign away your immortal soul and pledge eternal allegiance to the art of “body sculpting”.
I thanked him for his time and said I’d see them all next year. You know, after I’d popped the kid. My budget just would not allow for anymore stretching. It’s holding on for dear life as is.
Lately, the “round ligament pain” which is “completely natural” and “expected”, has been bothering me immensely; especially at night. It makes for difficulty in lifting my legs, walking about, getting up, getting comfortable, and so on. It’s not pain exactly. It’s just a sort of acute pressure in the groin area. The books say this is caused / aggravated by long periods of sitting (I have a desk job), or standing.
Nothing can be done about it. I’m supposed to lie down, or take a nap when this happens. I wonder how my manager would feel about that.
I’ve noticed that going for frequent walks do help a little; but, not much. And, walking for exercise after work doesn’t do it for me, because I’m convinced I need frequent bathroom breaks. Not so kewl when one is in the middle of nowhere.
Besides, my gym wear don’t fit me at all anymore. I’d have to get 2 new pairs of XL pants. Sigh. I didn’t expect my high knee to enlarge along with my now bulbous stomach.
I know I’m supposed to be exercising, but even my doctor told me joining the gym now would be a colossal fruitless and wasteful adventure. A waste of money: in other more eloquent words. I’m supposed to walk. The books say I’m supposed to stretch and do light weights, and this and that exercise.
Alls I knows is, once this kid pops, I’ll be back at the gym, paying for torture.
News on the pregnancy: I went to the gym last night. No no – not to exercise, goodness forbid! Just to check things out and see what is available at what price.
I pointed to my stomach, and intoned, in my best Captain Obvious Voice, “Highly Pregnant.” The overly excited sales person / “consultant” then started going off on a tangent about how yoga is very good for pregnant ladies, in fact they have a class on now, and at this special special rate, you could join now, at as very little as so much per session, or so much per month. All you have to do is sign away your immortal soul and pledge eternal allegiance to the art of “body sculpting”.
I thanked him for his time and said I’d see them all next year. You know, after I’d popped the kid. My budget just would not allow for anymore stretching. It’s holding on for dear life as is.
Lately, the “round ligament pain” which is “completely natural” and “expected”, has been bothering me immensely; especially at night. It makes for difficulty in lifting my legs, walking about, getting up, getting comfortable, and so on. It’s not pain exactly. It’s just a sort of acute pressure in the groin area. The books say this is caused / aggravated by long periods of sitting (I have a desk job), or standing.
Nothing can be done about it. I’m supposed to lie down, or take a nap when this happens. I wonder how my manager would feel about that.
I’ve noticed that going for frequent walks do help a little; but, not much. And, walking for exercise after work doesn’t do it for me, because I’m convinced I need frequent bathroom breaks. Not so kewl when one is in the middle of nowhere.
Besides, my gym wear don’t fit me at all anymore. I’d have to get 2 new pairs of XL pants. Sigh. I didn’t expect my high knee to enlarge along with my now bulbous stomach.
I know I’m supposed to be exercising, but even my doctor told me joining the gym now would be a colossal fruitless and wasteful adventure. A waste of money: in other more eloquent words. I’m supposed to walk. The books say I’m supposed to stretch and do light weights, and this and that exercise.
Alls I knows is, once this kid pops, I’ll be back at the gym, paying for torture.
Nefarious wiles
So, the question posed today, class, is that of the nature of self esteem, and the possible aggravation of negativity when pregnancy hormones are introduced.
How much of this is the baby’s fault? And, how much of this was merely an underlying affliction, lying in wait for the opportune moment to strike?
Well, first and foremost, no fault lies with the young babbie – She didn’t ask to be brought here, she was merely the fastest swimmer in the bunch. Kudos!
Based on my personal history, and what I know of myself, I’d say, this was probably a malignant tumour just waiting to be awoken.
So, self esteem: or more accurately, the lack thereof.
I have an existential query.
How much is too much, and how much is not enough?
In my humble experience, when in a boy/girl relationship, certain things happen in a certain sequence without fail. Yes, classmates, a pattern has emerged.
In the amorous beginnings, all is well with the world, romance is rife, and the relationship a prolific breeding-ground (if you’ll excuse the implied pun) of love, lust and well-being.
That lasts a while; a couple months, in fact.
But, somewhere the balance of attention–seeking and attention-needed go badly afoul. There is a fine balance to be kept, after all; elusive equilibrium.
I am the mad smotherer.
The more I am pushed away, the more I smother. And, at some point, it all becomes unbearable.
I wonder what the emotional dynamics of this would illustrate.
Sometimes people need time apart to miss each other. Sometimes, people need to have separate lives, and interests – just to keep the mystery alive.
I want to show love and receive love. But, how much is too much? How much is not enough? Is it ethical to act in a certain way to get a certain result, if said actions do not reflect the true feelings behind them?
Mostly, I just feel fat.
And, it’s not his fault.
Relationships are hard.
How much of this is the baby’s fault? And, how much of this was merely an underlying affliction, lying in wait for the opportune moment to strike?
Well, first and foremost, no fault lies with the young babbie – She didn’t ask to be brought here, she was merely the fastest swimmer in the bunch. Kudos!
Based on my personal history, and what I know of myself, I’d say, this was probably a malignant tumour just waiting to be awoken.
So, self esteem: or more accurately, the lack thereof.
I have an existential query.
How much is too much, and how much is not enough?
In my humble experience, when in a boy/girl relationship, certain things happen in a certain sequence without fail. Yes, classmates, a pattern has emerged.
In the amorous beginnings, all is well with the world, romance is rife, and the relationship a prolific breeding-ground (if you’ll excuse the implied pun) of love, lust and well-being.
That lasts a while; a couple months, in fact.
But, somewhere the balance of attention–seeking and attention-needed go badly afoul. There is a fine balance to be kept, after all; elusive equilibrium.
I am the mad smotherer.
The more I am pushed away, the more I smother. And, at some point, it all becomes unbearable.
I wonder what the emotional dynamics of this would illustrate.
Sometimes people need time apart to miss each other. Sometimes, people need to have separate lives, and interests – just to keep the mystery alive.
I want to show love and receive love. But, how much is too much? How much is not enough? Is it ethical to act in a certain way to get a certain result, if said actions do not reflect the true feelings behind them?
Mostly, I just feel fat.
And, it’s not his fault.
Relationships are hard.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Brainoscopy
It’s been less than fun blogging lately.
I’ve read in my various pregnancy books and magazines that it often happens that women become feeble-minded / absentminded / forgetful during the pregnancy. I find this holds true.
However, I’m the kind of person who always knows where her keys are (unless they’ve been hi-jacked by he who will not be named, but is very much loved). So, that’s not where the atrophy of mind has struck.
It’s been a source of much frustration for me – verbiage. I can’t seem to put my brain on a word. There I’d be, having a perfectly fine conversation with the hubby, knowing what I want to say, and just abruptly halting. “What is that word…? Man! If I can just remember that word… AAARRRGGH!!”
On the upside, these blank outs are temporary and I eventually manage to get the word off the tip of my brain and into the conversation. Thank goodness for that.
Now, I must indicate at this juncture that English, although it has now become my home language by marriage, is in fact my second language. I still speak Afrikaans with my parents, brother, friends, at work. It is more prevalent for this to occur when speaking the language of the Brits, than my home language.
I wonder if there have been studies to this effect.
Regardless, this is just one more of the many many varied quirks of being high up the pole.
Typing up a blog post is less than exhilirating when one can't remember a word, or have a certain tone in mind, but can't get it out in writing. As you may have noticed, this post... sigh. Not one of my favourites, but I felt I should say something.
I am now 24 weeks into this thing. With the science available today, if my baby was a premie (pre-mature) at this stage, she will more than likely still survive with minimal problems. … That said – I should also add that, survival is linked to the quality care baby will get; also how soon that care can be administrated.
I wonder if science can save my brain...
Somewhat unrelated:
The hunt for the perfect name is still on. We have sort of decided that the initials E.L.L would be charming. We have a middle name down. And the surname is self evident. So any suggestions for English E-names would be welcome. Hell, maybe even some Afrikaans ones. The polls are open. Don’t be shy.
I’ve read in my various pregnancy books and magazines that it often happens that women become feeble-minded / absentminded / forgetful during the pregnancy. I find this holds true.
However, I’m the kind of person who always knows where her keys are (unless they’ve been hi-jacked by he who will not be named, but is very much loved). So, that’s not where the atrophy of mind has struck.
It’s been a source of much frustration for me – verbiage. I can’t seem to put my brain on a word. There I’d be, having a perfectly fine conversation with the hubby, knowing what I want to say, and just abruptly halting. “What is that word…? Man! If I can just remember that word… AAARRRGGH!!”
On the upside, these blank outs are temporary and I eventually manage to get the word off the tip of my brain and into the conversation. Thank goodness for that.
Now, I must indicate at this juncture that English, although it has now become my home language by marriage, is in fact my second language. I still speak Afrikaans with my parents, brother, friends, at work. It is more prevalent for this to occur when speaking the language of the Brits, than my home language.
I wonder if there have been studies to this effect.
Regardless, this is just one more of the many many varied quirks of being high up the pole.
Typing up a blog post is less than exhilirating when one can't remember a word, or have a certain tone in mind, but can't get it out in writing. As you may have noticed, this post... sigh. Not one of my favourites, but I felt I should say something.
I am now 24 weeks into this thing. With the science available today, if my baby was a premie (pre-mature) at this stage, she will more than likely still survive with minimal problems. … That said – I should also add that, survival is linked to the quality care baby will get; also how soon that care can be administrated.
I wonder if science can save my brain...
Somewhat unrelated:
The hunt for the perfect name is still on. We have sort of decided that the initials E.L.L would be charming. We have a middle name down. And the surname is self evident. So any suggestions for English E-names would be welcome. Hell, maybe even some Afrikaans ones. The polls are open. Don’t be shy.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
It's a pink one!!! ... probably
Yesterday the hubby and I were fortunate enough to visit with both the dentist (zero cavities!) and the obstetrician. I had another scan on my tummy. The "anatomy scan". Everything looks fine. Legs and arms intact. Big feet. Little fingers. No harelip, tiny nostrils, tiny mouth, arms carelessly thrown back, feet crossed in a relaxed position. Baby is living it up in mommy's tummy.
The kicks and punches have become more pronounced, but hubby has not been able to feel them yet. Even to me, it feels only like an insistent butterfly, trying to take off against the inside of my lower abdominal area.
The sign of ze hamburger means that it is in all likelihood, a pink alien. ^_^
The search for an appropriate name can now start in earnest.
I'm not entirely convinced that it's a femme yet. We may get a surprise in December, or at the next scan (which will be in October). I've heard many stories of predictions that went the other way. Besides, all the gender predictors that I've had a look at, predict a boy.
I don't really care either way. The baby looks healthy and happy. And, that's all that really matters, innit.
Stay tuned - scans to follow (tomorrow, when I remember to bring them to work with me)
The kicks and punches have become more pronounced, but hubby has not been able to feel them yet. Even to me, it feels only like an insistent butterfly, trying to take off against the inside of my lower abdominal area.
The sign of ze hamburger means that it is in all likelihood, a pink alien. ^_^
The search for an appropriate name can now start in earnest.
I'm not entirely convinced that it's a femme yet. We may get a surprise in December, or at the next scan (which will be in October). I've heard many stories of predictions that went the other way. Besides, all the gender predictors that I've had a look at, predict a boy.
I don't really care either way. The baby looks healthy and happy. And, that's all that really matters, innit.
Stay tuned - scans to follow (tomorrow, when I remember to bring them to work with me)
Friday, August 8, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
germination
I spent the last week feeling about ready to die.
You never appreciate everything you have, until you lose it, or can’t make use of it.
Like, breathing for example. Or, the ability to use meds.
Yes, ladies and germs, when one is preggers, there is a list about as long as the wall of china on the meds you are no longer allowed to take, because they pass through the placenta and drug out the baby.
So, I went to the hospital last week, they put me on a drip for 4 hours. Liquids and meds. I had a scary temperature. Headache, body pain, runny stuffed nose (go figure, right), ear ache, increased heart rate, fever… it was not fun.
So, hopped up on strepsils and panados, I spent the past week in a daze, sleeping many a morning away. It was good to take a week off. Now, back at the office, I have SO much to catch up on, and missed 2 important meetings last week. *sigh*
Two more months – then it’s the holy grail of leave: maternity leave for 4 months.
But, that depends if they are gonna let me come back. I have a temporary contract till December. But, I’m going on leave in middle November. So, that is to be discussed. Should be interesting. I wonder if I am eligible to claim UIF. Apparently, if you do not get full salary during maternity leave (which I won’t, if I get anything at all), I should be eligible for UIF, but you have to apply. 2 months before you go on leave, actually.
On the upside, I am no longer sick. I have a bit of a chesty cough, but I’m sure that will leave in time.
On the downside, my medical bills are just about piling up to form their own mini-Kilimanjaro. Not kewl. And, don’t get me started on my retarded medical aid. Sigh. Things sure are expensive. More forms, more money out of my pocket. It’s so much admin to get to.
At least I have my health. Sort of.
You never appreciate everything you have, until you lose it, or can’t make use of it.
Like, breathing for example. Or, the ability to use meds.
Yes, ladies and germs, when one is preggers, there is a list about as long as the wall of china on the meds you are no longer allowed to take, because they pass through the placenta and drug out the baby.
So, I went to the hospital last week, they put me on a drip for 4 hours. Liquids and meds. I had a scary temperature. Headache, body pain, runny stuffed nose (go figure, right), ear ache, increased heart rate, fever… it was not fun.
So, hopped up on strepsils and panados, I spent the past week in a daze, sleeping many a morning away. It was good to take a week off. Now, back at the office, I have SO much to catch up on, and missed 2 important meetings last week. *sigh*
Two more months – then it’s the holy grail of leave: maternity leave for 4 months.
But, that depends if they are gonna let me come back. I have a temporary contract till December. But, I’m going on leave in middle November. So, that is to be discussed. Should be interesting. I wonder if I am eligible to claim UIF. Apparently, if you do not get full salary during maternity leave (which I won’t, if I get anything at all), I should be eligible for UIF, but you have to apply. 2 months before you go on leave, actually.
On the upside, I am no longer sick. I have a bit of a chesty cough, but I’m sure that will leave in time.
On the downside, my medical bills are just about piling up to form their own mini-Kilimanjaro. Not kewl. And, don’t get me started on my retarded medical aid. Sigh. Things sure are expensive. More forms, more money out of my pocket. It’s so much admin to get to.
At least I have my health. Sort of.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The first of many
Last night, just as I was repositioning my wide load in bed, I felt the 1st of 3 tentative kicks in my abdomen. What a magical moment! This was my kid, making it’s impact on the world at large, by kicking dents into mommy’s stomach.
I waited eagerly for the phenomenon to repeat itself, without satisfaction. All in good time, I suppose. I read somewhere that towards the last months of the pregnancy, the baby’s acrobatics are so intense, they regularly wake the mom.
I’m a light sleeper.
It’s weird, I still can’t process that I’m preggers. I mean, if it weren’t for the stomach and the constant eating and peeing… yeah. I never really thought I’d be pregnant, of all people. I mean, it was a possibility, but much the same way becoming an astronaut is a possibility: If you set your mind to it, you could do it, but it’s something other people do. Not I.
“The baby just kicked me!” I excitedly exclaimed to my husband. He then jetted to my side, and placed his hand on my protruding belly. “It probably won’t happen again,” I said. “I mean, that was the 3rd one.” Reassuringly, to my ears, I added, “Don’t worry – this will happen a lot more often in the next couple weeks, and months.”
I saw a pic online of a pregnant belly, ready to pop, with a tiny footprint plainly visible against the skin. A sort of infantile “Let me outta here!” And I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what awaits me. I’m 20 weeks into this pregnancy. Well, 19,5 weeks. And I’m already whale sized. I don’t know how people hide pregnancy. It’s rather very obvious on me.
My mom is probably right. This is probably a girl. Big in front equals girl. Carrying low equals boy. Simple.
I’m looking forward to the next scan – gonna find out the flavour. And then the naming battle will commence!
Pregnancy note of the day
I hate my atom-sized bladder.
I waited eagerly for the phenomenon to repeat itself, without satisfaction. All in good time, I suppose. I read somewhere that towards the last months of the pregnancy, the baby’s acrobatics are so intense, they regularly wake the mom.
I’m a light sleeper.
It’s weird, I still can’t process that I’m preggers. I mean, if it weren’t for the stomach and the constant eating and peeing… yeah. I never really thought I’d be pregnant, of all people. I mean, it was a possibility, but much the same way becoming an astronaut is a possibility: If you set your mind to it, you could do it, but it’s something other people do. Not I.
“The baby just kicked me!” I excitedly exclaimed to my husband. He then jetted to my side, and placed his hand on my protruding belly. “It probably won’t happen again,” I said. “I mean, that was the 3rd one.” Reassuringly, to my ears, I added, “Don’t worry – this will happen a lot more often in the next couple weeks, and months.”
I saw a pic online of a pregnant belly, ready to pop, with a tiny footprint plainly visible against the skin. A sort of infantile “Let me outta here!” And I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what awaits me. I’m 20 weeks into this pregnancy. Well, 19,5 weeks. And I’m already whale sized. I don’t know how people hide pregnancy. It’s rather very obvious on me.
My mom is probably right. This is probably a girl. Big in front equals girl. Carrying low equals boy. Simple.
I’m looking forward to the next scan – gonna find out the flavour. And then the naming battle will commence!
Pregnancy note of the day
I hate my atom-sized bladder.
Monday, July 21, 2008
(more) Dreamscapes
I had another dream the other morning; Saturday morning, in fact. I don’t remember much of what happened in the dream…
Once again, I dreamt I had a baby girl.
I spent the weekend at home, my parents’ home. It was awesome.
My mom gave my distended stomach one look, and said, that’s a girl in there. Look how far forward that tummy is – boys tend to lie more in the back.
Of, course, it could go either way.
Every morning, my stomach goes flat. When I wake up, I just look slightly on the pudgy side. But, by lunch time, and even moreso at night, I have this grotesque bulging bloated stomach. Another crazy quirk of nature. Go figure.
Also, an interesting sidenote that my mom told me this weekend: She said that just before I dumped the news of my pregnancy earlier this year, she had had a dream that someone in the family was preggers. And she remembers wondering to herself “Wie in die familie is nou weer op die paal?”. Hilarious. Anyway, long story short, it turned out to be me, which was about the last person she was expecting. My mom said she wondered about all the cousins, but didn’t even think to look in her own house.
This morning I had a nightmare. Haven’t had one of those in years. (And I stand by what I say: I really don’t dream that often. And I only really remember my dreams when my sleeping pattern is disrupted somehow – either by waking up too early, or being able to sleep late)
I woke my husband with my mewling. He turned me. I woke. Nightmare over, husband there to comfort me.
Bliss.
“You’re afraid of the dark?” he asks me this morning. I blush a fiery crimson and sheepishly admit “Yeah. I always had a nightlight at home.” “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
Go figure, right.
Anyway, the dream was horrible. I was lying on my back and I couldn’t move. Everything in the dream was in slo-mo. There was a resident evil (haha) manifesting itself in a room. It turned people into evil entities, violent. But, to the other two people in the room, you look like the evil entity. We were all hitting and slapping each other, speaking in slowed horrible voices, but sounding normal to ourselves.
When my husband turned me, I was pushed out of the room at the same instant.
He said he heard me say something – but, it didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t hear what I was saying.
I’ll tell you what I was trying to say in that molasses surreal dream-state: “GET OUT!! GET OUT OF THERE!!”
I wonder what it all means….
Once again, I dreamt I had a baby girl.
I spent the weekend at home, my parents’ home. It was awesome.
My mom gave my distended stomach one look, and said, that’s a girl in there. Look how far forward that tummy is – boys tend to lie more in the back.
Of, course, it could go either way.
Every morning, my stomach goes flat. When I wake up, I just look slightly on the pudgy side. But, by lunch time, and even moreso at night, I have this grotesque bulging bloated stomach. Another crazy quirk of nature. Go figure.
Also, an interesting sidenote that my mom told me this weekend: She said that just before I dumped the news of my pregnancy earlier this year, she had had a dream that someone in the family was preggers. And she remembers wondering to herself “Wie in die familie is nou weer op die paal?”. Hilarious. Anyway, long story short, it turned out to be me, which was about the last person she was expecting. My mom said she wondered about all the cousins, but didn’t even think to look in her own house.
This morning I had a nightmare. Haven’t had one of those in years. (And I stand by what I say: I really don’t dream that often. And I only really remember my dreams when my sleeping pattern is disrupted somehow – either by waking up too early, or being able to sleep late)
I woke my husband with my mewling. He turned me. I woke. Nightmare over, husband there to comfort me.
Bliss.
“You’re afraid of the dark?” he asks me this morning. I blush a fiery crimson and sheepishly admit “Yeah. I always had a nightlight at home.” “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
Go figure, right.
Anyway, the dream was horrible. I was lying on my back and I couldn’t move. Everything in the dream was in slo-mo. There was a resident evil (haha) manifesting itself in a room. It turned people into evil entities, violent. But, to the other two people in the room, you look like the evil entity. We were all hitting and slapping each other, speaking in slowed horrible voices, but sounding normal to ourselves.
When my husband turned me, I was pushed out of the room at the same instant.
He said he heard me say something – but, it didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t hear what I was saying.
I’ll tell you what I was trying to say in that molasses surreal dream-state: “GET OUT!! GET OUT OF THERE!!”
I wonder what it all means….
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
i am just a statistic
so, this morning, i woke up on the wrong side of the crime statistic.
It seems that somehow, someone, or sometwo, managed to smash the back passenger window of my car, driver's side, and steal my radio. the whole thing. face, back part - everything. there is a gaping hole where my beloved cd/mp3 player used to be. and soon, there will be a 2 grand hole in my pocket, to replace said radio.
It's funny, (funny weird, not funny haha) that of the 3 cars outside (in the carport, inside the fenced yard), mine was the only affected one. It's funny that none of my (hard rock / metal) cd's were taken. And, it is funny that the cash in the middle (couple coins in change) was not taken either. It boggles my mind that they even got into the yard. (wonder if the dogs were in the back...) They must've gotten over the fence somehow... i don't know.
on the upside, (yes, i can manufacture an upside - positive influence my husband is having on me) - this is forcing me to have my windshield replaced, which has 2 chips in it. It was a protest based on principle - i had paid the car servicing place to "fix" one of the chips, they took my money, i dont know if they ever did the job, coz that chip just spread it's broken wings. so, now that i have to have the back window replaced, may as well do the front. more cash munny out the window. ha ha.
the 2nd upside, is that my car was still there this morning. alas, the insurance won't pay for any of this. my car, that i pay for, is in my dad's name (better rates). so, this is all for my account. sigh. it woulda sucked if i didnt have a car at all anymore. i love that car.
crime sucks. what'd i ever do to whoever did that. i just work hard, study hard, and try to make ends meet. i don't party or drink, or smoke, or whore around. but, i'd bet the people who steal do.
just another day.
It seems that somehow, someone, or sometwo, managed to smash the back passenger window of my car, driver's side, and steal my radio. the whole thing. face, back part - everything. there is a gaping hole where my beloved cd/mp3 player used to be. and soon, there will be a 2 grand hole in my pocket, to replace said radio.
It's funny, (funny weird, not funny haha) that of the 3 cars outside (in the carport, inside the fenced yard), mine was the only affected one. It's funny that none of my (hard rock / metal) cd's were taken. And, it is funny that the cash in the middle (couple coins in change) was not taken either. It boggles my mind that they even got into the yard. (wonder if the dogs were in the back...) They must've gotten over the fence somehow... i don't know.
on the upside, (yes, i can manufacture an upside - positive influence my husband is having on me) - this is forcing me to have my windshield replaced, which has 2 chips in it. It was a protest based on principle - i had paid the car servicing place to "fix" one of the chips, they took my money, i dont know if they ever did the job, coz that chip just spread it's broken wings. so, now that i have to have the back window replaced, may as well do the front. more cash munny out the window. ha ha.
the 2nd upside, is that my car was still there this morning. alas, the insurance won't pay for any of this. my car, that i pay for, is in my dad's name (better rates). so, this is all for my account. sigh. it woulda sucked if i didnt have a car at all anymore. i love that car.
crime sucks. what'd i ever do to whoever did that. i just work hard, study hard, and try to make ends meet. i don't party or drink, or smoke, or whore around. but, i'd bet the people who steal do.
just another day.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Y2k was the epoch-alypse
This second trimester thing is easy. But, legend has it that, the 3rd and final trimester is the bastard to end bastards.
I’m looking fatigue, swelling, and general apathetic resignation in the face. A need will arise to get-this-over-with-already. Blimp-sized and irritable, 3 months of agonising torture await my already distended stomach.
And fat pants; lots and lots of fat pants.
If someone had told me a year ago, that I would find myself here, in this town, with child, married, in a different job, with a man I didn’t even know back then… let’s just say it would have been on the difficult side to convince me.
8 years ago, I had a very definite plan for my life:
I was going to be married by the time I hit 25, be a successful CA, get a house with 3 rooms and 2 bathrooms, 2 garages, the picket fence, the works. I was gonna be well off. Enough so to modify my house the way I wanted it, and to paint on weekends, and to wear fashionable clothes, etc.
Reality is a tad off base.
By the time I hit 24, I had modified my plan for myself.
I’m still not a CA, but I’m closer to it now than I ever have been. I was gonna get married at 28, kids at 30. The parasitic alien in my stomach changed all that very suddenly, but up until the beginning of this year, that was still the plan.
Something I’ve realised, however, is that – I am the person I always was. I didn’t become any more stylish, or fashionista with age. That whole scene has always evaded me. What I look like is what I look like, and I don’t really know how to put an outfit together, or shop for clothes.
The house market also threw me one hell of a curveball.
I’ve been living with my parents up until 2,5 weeks ago. (Now I live with my husband’s parents. No big change there) But, it is dam nigh impossible to procure a reasonable house in a reasonable area at a reasonable price. Also, I have no money. And my salary isn’t near enough to support the misconceptions I had about receiving a salary.
Over weekends, there is barely any time for anything. My paint lies accusingly in the corner, discarded. It has been an uphill battle for me to find canvas. Weekends are just too short these days. Weeks are short. Time is short.
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
I’m looking fatigue, swelling, and general apathetic resignation in the face. A need will arise to get-this-over-with-already. Blimp-sized and irritable, 3 months of agonising torture await my already distended stomach.
And fat pants; lots and lots of fat pants.
If someone had told me a year ago, that I would find myself here, in this town, with child, married, in a different job, with a man I didn’t even know back then… let’s just say it would have been on the difficult side to convince me.
8 years ago, I had a very definite plan for my life:
I was going to be married by the time I hit 25, be a successful CA, get a house with 3 rooms and 2 bathrooms, 2 garages, the picket fence, the works. I was gonna be well off. Enough so to modify my house the way I wanted it, and to paint on weekends, and to wear fashionable clothes, etc.
Reality is a tad off base.
By the time I hit 24, I had modified my plan for myself.
I’m still not a CA, but I’m closer to it now than I ever have been. I was gonna get married at 28, kids at 30. The parasitic alien in my stomach changed all that very suddenly, but up until the beginning of this year, that was still the plan.
Something I’ve realised, however, is that – I am the person I always was. I didn’t become any more stylish, or fashionista with age. That whole scene has always evaded me. What I look like is what I look like, and I don’t really know how to put an outfit together, or shop for clothes.
The house market also threw me one hell of a curveball.
I’ve been living with my parents up until 2,5 weeks ago. (Now I live with my husband’s parents. No big change there) But, it is dam nigh impossible to procure a reasonable house in a reasonable area at a reasonable price. Also, I have no money. And my salary isn’t near enough to support the misconceptions I had about receiving a salary.
Over weekends, there is barely any time for anything. My paint lies accusingly in the corner, discarded. It has been an uphill battle for me to find canvas. Weekends are just too short these days. Weeks are short. Time is short.
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
Monday, July 14, 2008
academicus nauticus
so, i got my detailed QE results today. I mean, I already knew I failed, they told us that 2 weeks ago already. but, today, i got the detail symbols.
on the positive side - i passed one out of the 7 questions, got a B (60-69%) for that one. (Need 50 for a pass per question; last year, i just missed passing. got a D average. bastards.)
On the planning-to-fix-this end, i have enrolled in and paid for the pre-board course with UJ, and am gonna do the board course next year. i will also be able to attend all classes (didn't do a board course last year. and the prior year, had to drive to JHB every weekend), coz they have classes for the boardcourse here, in Bloem. Awesomeness. no more tiresome driving.
Going home this weekend (parents' house) to go get the last of my stuff - books, dvds, games, desk, etc. don't have our own abode as of yet, but we'll get there. i need to get studying. time is running out... ideally, i should have started studying in february... ah well.
upwards and forwards, i suppose.
just a note: if i do not make the QE on this, my 3rd try, there will be no other tries afterwards. This is the last time. I will be content with my 3 degrees, articles and CTA (Certificate in Theory of Accounting). By the end of this year, I'm gonna be somebody's mom. the responsibility; immense.
on the positive side - i passed one out of the 7 questions, got a B (60-69%) for that one. (Need 50 for a pass per question; last year, i just missed passing. got a D average. bastards.)
On the planning-to-fix-this end, i have enrolled in and paid for the pre-board course with UJ, and am gonna do the board course next year. i will also be able to attend all classes (didn't do a board course last year. and the prior year, had to drive to JHB every weekend), coz they have classes for the boardcourse here, in Bloem. Awesomeness. no more tiresome driving.
Going home this weekend (parents' house) to go get the last of my stuff - books, dvds, games, desk, etc. don't have our own abode as of yet, but we'll get there. i need to get studying. time is running out... ideally, i should have started studying in february... ah well.
upwards and forwards, i suppose.
just a note: if i do not make the QE on this, my 3rd try, there will be no other tries afterwards. This is the last time. I will be content with my 3 degrees, articles and CTA (Certificate in Theory of Accounting). By the end of this year, I'm gonna be somebody's mom. the responsibility; immense.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Moo moo syndrome
These days, I graze constantly. All the time – I eat. I cannot help myself. I feel a burning starvation permeating my general stomach area if I cannot attend to the need when it arises. Although, at work, I endeavour to maintain a stoic countenance, the searing hunger overwhelms me.
Pregnant memory loss seems to have set in as well. I forgot my cellphone in the bathroom this morning. Lady Luck is with me in that my co-workers here are honest folk… that could have been a nasty turn of misfortune, had I not retrieved my phone – my lifeblood.
Yesterday, I vacated my cupboard (well, the sections in my husband’s cupboard allocated to me) of clothes that no longer fit. I have a serious shortage of pants. But, I will remedy this at a later stage in the pregnancy. According to the doctor, my weight at discharge will be 75kg’s. Not kewl. But, I plan to fix that as soon as possible after the poppage.
To assist in my constant meals, I bought a lunch bag. In it, I hoard a myriad little snacks – some healthier than others. After all, not all snacks were created equal. I can’t help but wonder if my constant mastication does not offend those around me. We all sit in rather close proximity. But, when faced with scorching hunger in my stomach vs the discomfort of those around me at chewing noise, they don’t stand a snowball’s chance.
The new job is going well. I’m worried about my productivity. It’s not that great… but, I have been busy lately. And, it seems this is only liable to increase in intensity as the days advance.
I hope this forgetfulness will not impede my abilities for the whole term of this preggersness. I suppose to err is human, and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. It’s just that I never forget my cellphone anywhere…
I just ordered a sandwich. I eagerly anticipate it’s arrival.
Moo.
Pregnant memory loss seems to have set in as well. I forgot my cellphone in the bathroom this morning. Lady Luck is with me in that my co-workers here are honest folk… that could have been a nasty turn of misfortune, had I not retrieved my phone – my lifeblood.
Yesterday, I vacated my cupboard (well, the sections in my husband’s cupboard allocated to me) of clothes that no longer fit. I have a serious shortage of pants. But, I will remedy this at a later stage in the pregnancy. According to the doctor, my weight at discharge will be 75kg’s. Not kewl. But, I plan to fix that as soon as possible after the poppage.
To assist in my constant meals, I bought a lunch bag. In it, I hoard a myriad little snacks – some healthier than others. After all, not all snacks were created equal. I can’t help but wonder if my constant mastication does not offend those around me. We all sit in rather close proximity. But, when faced with scorching hunger in my stomach vs the discomfort of those around me at chewing noise, they don’t stand a snowball’s chance.
The new job is going well. I’m worried about my productivity. It’s not that great… but, I have been busy lately. And, it seems this is only liable to increase in intensity as the days advance.
I hope this forgetfulness will not impede my abilities for the whole term of this preggersness. I suppose to err is human, and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. It’s just that I never forget my cellphone anywhere…
I just ordered a sandwich. I eagerly anticipate it’s arrival.
Moo.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The callous quirks of nature
Fate and Nature were feeling especially moody the day they decided what pregnancy would be like for a human being.
One would think that with all the pain, nausea, irritability, cost, tests, prickings and blood-takings, ad infinitum – there would be less pro-creation in this world. And yet, the opposite holds true.
One of the dirtiest tricks Fate and Nature have cooked up, is how the uterus and growing foetus is comfortably situated right on top of the bladder. And, thus, as the baby expands, more pressure is added to my already over-active bladder.
Hilarious, guys.
I make 2 to 3 nightly trips to the throne room. At work, I’m on the opposite end of the building regarding bathroom access. It's a regular daily scurry.
And, I’m only 4 months into this thing.
I shudder to think what is gonna happen to me and my bathroom situation once my stomach becomes seriously distended. I’m also starting to cross the border between “Is she just fat, or is that a preggy belly?”
To this day, (Day 3 at the new job) I have seen no other pregnant ladies in this office. My prior office had 3 (One recently popped - 2 months prior, one about to pop - 2 months to go, and the wife of a colleague who is a couple weeks behind me - 3 months preggers). There was a sort of kinship and sense of belonging there.
Here I just feel fat, and in the way.
As soon as this parasite evacuates its comfy womb, and I am again able to evacuate my bladder at more reasonable intervals, I’m heading to Ye Olde Gymm, to get back into an acceptable shape.
I nearly had a tantrum this morning. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at my misfortune. I had to go through 2 pairs of pants and 2 shirts before I found something that still fits me. I can’t believe my current growth rate. I suppose it’s both a good and bad thing. Good, coz my baby is being VERY well fed, and has the best chance of being healthy. Bad, coz society forces us to believe that thin is beautiful, and fat is disgusting. Not great for the self-esteem, I must concede.
I don’t wanna buy too many items of “fat pants”. I like to think of this as a transient period in my life. (Till my period returns, ha ha) I have 4 pairs of pregnancy pants. One is suitable for work. I haven’t figured out how to make the others work… for work...
I need a stylist.
Gratitude Journal – 02 July 2008
I don’t look like a blimp… yet.
One would think that with all the pain, nausea, irritability, cost, tests, prickings and blood-takings, ad infinitum – there would be less pro-creation in this world. And yet, the opposite holds true.
One of the dirtiest tricks Fate and Nature have cooked up, is how the uterus and growing foetus is comfortably situated right on top of the bladder. And, thus, as the baby expands, more pressure is added to my already over-active bladder.
Hilarious, guys.
I make 2 to 3 nightly trips to the throne room. At work, I’m on the opposite end of the building regarding bathroom access. It's a regular daily scurry.
And, I’m only 4 months into this thing.
I shudder to think what is gonna happen to me and my bathroom situation once my stomach becomes seriously distended. I’m also starting to cross the border between “Is she just fat, or is that a preggy belly?”
To this day, (Day 3 at the new job) I have seen no other pregnant ladies in this office. My prior office had 3 (One recently popped - 2 months prior, one about to pop - 2 months to go, and the wife of a colleague who is a couple weeks behind me - 3 months preggers). There was a sort of kinship and sense of belonging there.
Here I just feel fat, and in the way.
As soon as this parasite evacuates its comfy womb, and I am again able to evacuate my bladder at more reasonable intervals, I’m heading to Ye Olde Gymm, to get back into an acceptable shape.
I nearly had a tantrum this morning. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at my misfortune. I had to go through 2 pairs of pants and 2 shirts before I found something that still fits me. I can’t believe my current growth rate. I suppose it’s both a good and bad thing. Good, coz my baby is being VERY well fed, and has the best chance of being healthy. Bad, coz society forces us to believe that thin is beautiful, and fat is disgusting. Not great for the self-esteem, I must concede.
I don’t wanna buy too many items of “fat pants”. I like to think of this as a transient period in my life. (Till my period returns, ha ha) I have 4 pairs of pregnancy pants. One is suitable for work. I haven’t figured out how to make the others work… for work...
I need a stylist.
Gratitude Journal – 02 July 2008
I don’t look like a blimp… yet.
Monday, June 30, 2008
neon genesis
Today is my unofficial first day at the new office. (Tomorrow is the official 1st day)
And, it's all very intimidating.
There are 4 times more people here than at my prior office. I’ve already forgotten the majority of names of people I was introduced to [no amount of memory tricks could help me there]. The office is much bigger. There is no fixed seating plan, it’s pretty much first come, first served. It’s a whole new … atmosphere. Less mucking about; more getting the job done.
People here are very professional looking. Not in a runway model sense. Just – these people look like auditors. I have this urgent need to go shopping, so I can fit in. Can’t look like a hobo for the rest of my time here… That’s just not cricket.
I must have some serious self image and inadequacy issues, coz I have all these surging fears, threatening to drown me. I wonder if I will adapt or die. I wonder what the future holds. I wonder if this was a good idea… if I will flourish.
I’m grateful that I have a wonderful man by my side, helping me and looking out for me every step of the way.
On the pregnancy front; 4 months preggers now. My pants don’t fit – none of the traitorous buggers. I have a couple maternity tops I wear, and some pants. They will become my uniform over the next couple months. In these tops, I don’t even look all that preggers, which is a good thing. But, my regular clothes make me look like a stuffed Michelin man, ready for the fat farm.
Other than nasal congestion, I’m doing fine. When I get hungry, I still feel like I’m gonna die of fiery stomach starvation if I don’t eat immediately. But, this too will pass. Speaking of which, I’m pretty hungry right now. * sigh * will be ordering sammiches soon.
Food, glorious food.
And, it's all very intimidating.
There are 4 times more people here than at my prior office. I’ve already forgotten the majority of names of people I was introduced to [no amount of memory tricks could help me there]. The office is much bigger. There is no fixed seating plan, it’s pretty much first come, first served. It’s a whole new … atmosphere. Less mucking about; more getting the job done.
People here are very professional looking. Not in a runway model sense. Just – these people look like auditors. I have this urgent need to go shopping, so I can fit in. Can’t look like a hobo for the rest of my time here… That’s just not cricket.
I must have some serious self image and inadequacy issues, coz I have all these surging fears, threatening to drown me. I wonder if I will adapt or die. I wonder what the future holds. I wonder if this was a good idea… if I will flourish.
I’m grateful that I have a wonderful man by my side, helping me and looking out for me every step of the way.
On the pregnancy front; 4 months preggers now. My pants don’t fit – none of the traitorous buggers. I have a couple maternity tops I wear, and some pants. They will become my uniform over the next couple months. In these tops, I don’t even look all that preggers, which is a good thing. But, my regular clothes make me look like a stuffed Michelin man, ready for the fat farm.
Other than nasal congestion, I’m doing fine. When I get hungry, I still feel like I’m gonna die of fiery stomach starvation if I don’t eat immediately. But, this too will pass. Speaking of which, I’m pretty hungry right now. * sigh * will be ordering sammiches soon.
Food, glorious food.
Friday, June 27, 2008
A funny feeling
I feel fat.
There is nothing about me that says pregnant right now. In fact - I wonder if I still am. (Next sonar tomorrow - that always drastically influences my perception)
I can still sort of fit into some of my, what used to be bigger pants. The regular fitting ones are a dead loss now. They hang there in my cupboard, mocking me. They take up space, but I dare not get rid of them - Might use em again after the poppage.
I leave my parents' house tomorrow. I am moving to another city 5 hours away. It's a bit initimidating, but exciting at the same time. I look forward to it. It's gonna be one helluva adventure. And if the career ride gets a bit too much for me, I can always just get off. (Got my articles signed off 3 days ago. A great feeling)
I'm 4 months pregnant. And I just feel fat.
No more nausea, or cravings, moodswings are minimal. This is the chilled out 2nd trimester. All that really happens now, is that my belly is supposed to grow. And it has accepted this challenge with zeal. I need more fat pants.
Starting this week, my baby can now hear. I wonder what I should play for him/her. On the other hand, I am now nasally congested; another one of the many perks of having a bun in the oven. I hope this will pass soon. I have so many questions for the doctor. Tomorrow can't come fast enough.
QE results today. Expectations: Low. Mood: Excited at prospect of leaving.
Tomorrow just can't come fast enough.
There is nothing about me that says pregnant right now. In fact - I wonder if I still am. (Next sonar tomorrow - that always drastically influences my perception)
I can still sort of fit into some of my, what used to be bigger pants. The regular fitting ones are a dead loss now. They hang there in my cupboard, mocking me. They take up space, but I dare not get rid of them - Might use em again after the poppage.
I leave my parents' house tomorrow. I am moving to another city 5 hours away. It's a bit initimidating, but exciting at the same time. I look forward to it. It's gonna be one helluva adventure. And if the career ride gets a bit too much for me, I can always just get off. (Got my articles signed off 3 days ago. A great feeling)
I'm 4 months pregnant. And I just feel fat.
No more nausea, or cravings, moodswings are minimal. This is the chilled out 2nd trimester. All that really happens now, is that my belly is supposed to grow. And it has accepted this challenge with zeal. I need more fat pants.
Starting this week, my baby can now hear. I wonder what I should play for him/her. On the other hand, I am now nasally congested; another one of the many perks of having a bun in the oven. I hope this will pass soon. I have so many questions for the doctor. Tomorrow can't come fast enough.
QE results today. Expectations: Low. Mood: Excited at prospect of leaving.
Tomorrow just can't come fast enough.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Rapid exit
I spent the morning hugging the toilet in this june winter frost. it was less than appealing. i lost my whole breakfast. i feel fragile.
I don't know if it is morning sickness, no nausea accompanied this calling for george and louis. I don't know if it is stress or exhaustion. I spent the past 3 years being stressed out at work. That's over now. Is it stress about the impending wedding? I don't know. (T minus 4 days, folks)
Usually, when i used to get bad stress, i'd get tension headaches. no puking. never puking. and i spent the first 10 weeks of this preggersness being so nauseous i could barely eat / walk / work. so, what is this now? i can't get this every morning. I don't have enough leave for this!
My body is against me.
On the plus side, if nothing i eat stays down this week, my wedding dress will definitely fit on saturday.
I don't know if it is morning sickness, no nausea accompanied this calling for george and louis. I don't know if it is stress or exhaustion. I spent the past 3 years being stressed out at work. That's over now. Is it stress about the impending wedding? I don't know. (T minus 4 days, folks)
Usually, when i used to get bad stress, i'd get tension headaches. no puking. never puking. and i spent the first 10 weeks of this preggersness being so nauseous i could barely eat / walk / work. so, what is this now? i can't get this every morning. I don't have enough leave for this!
My body is against me.
On the plus side, if nothing i eat stays down this week, my wedding dress will definitely fit on saturday.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Preparations of a prolific kinde
So, for those who don't know it yet, my wedding is in less than 2 weeks.To that end, there have been a lot of preparations and so on. For the most part, all the details are being handled by the parentals, which is great.
The most pressing matter on my mind these days has however been, the first dance of the wedding. i have a few issues:
The most pressing matter on my mind these days has however been, the first dance of the wedding. i have a few issues:
- my groom is twice my height.
- we haven't decided on a song yet.
- we've never close danced. ever. strange as that is.
okay, so the height thing should be lessenend by the scary heels i'll be wearing that day. i should be almost shoulder length to him. i can hope. and if all else fails, he has agreed to pick me up for it. sigh. sometimes it's hard to be a midget.
As for the song -- there are a bunch of contenders. We have decided to go classic romantic. like, for example:
- You Are My First, My Last, My Everything (Barry White)
- Heaven (Bryan Adams)
- Endless Love (Diana Ross & Lionel Richie)
- At Last (Etta James)
- Let It Be Me (Everly Brothers)
- The Way You Look Tonight (Frank Sinatra)
He added some Westlife, I added some BoyzIIMen. I have no idea what we are gonna pick. but, at least we have a list. That's a start, am I right?
Update - we just may go with KCi and Jojo's All My Life. Who knows. We have a couple days to decide.
We have never close danced. It's a bit of a logistical nightmare, really. He is far far away. And when we are together, he is very TALL.
On the upside, i will be there a couple days before the wedding. So, we will have a practice run. If it does not go well, then - well, we don't HAVE TO dance the first dance. I mean, we can give that a skip. there will be a thousand eyes... all staring... boring into us... evaluating... judging...
*sigh*
No pressure.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Dreamscapes
i had a dream the other night.
i dreamt i was on the beach. i was already a mommy. my little one was walking beside me, jumping from driftwood, to sand, looking for seashells.
she was of darkest ebony, shining brilliantly in the twilight. curious, and full of life. questions bubbled from her, her inquisitive nature seeming to mirror mine. she was joyful and happy, content with the answers i gave her, only until the next question crumpled her brow.
"mommy, why is the sky red? what are the fishes doing under all that water? how do they breathe, mommy? are we going home soon? can't we stay here?"
she had fiercely red hair, like someone i may have created on an RPG. Neverwinternights springs to mind, though i always made my characters blue-skinned with long flowing white hair. I remember feeling nothing but love and adoration for my offspring, as we walked side by side on the beach.
i was wearing a long dress, billowing in the wind. i remember feeling at peace. i remember the pride swelling in my heart as my little girl found another seashell, and whooped with delight.
it was a good dream.
Post script
At the risk of sounding ungrateful, and please know that i hope for a healthy one of either flavour, i would rather like to have a little girl. I think this dream sort of punctuates that dream. She would be the apple of her daddy's eye. Adored by both her parents. and maybe just a little spoiled.
i dreamt i was on the beach. i was already a mommy. my little one was walking beside me, jumping from driftwood, to sand, looking for seashells.
she was of darkest ebony, shining brilliantly in the twilight. curious, and full of life. questions bubbled from her, her inquisitive nature seeming to mirror mine. she was joyful and happy, content with the answers i gave her, only until the next question crumpled her brow.
"mommy, why is the sky red? what are the fishes doing under all that water? how do they breathe, mommy? are we going home soon? can't we stay here?"
she had fiercely red hair, like someone i may have created on an RPG. Neverwinternights springs to mind, though i always made my characters blue-skinned with long flowing white hair. I remember feeling nothing but love and adoration for my offspring, as we walked side by side on the beach.
i was wearing a long dress, billowing in the wind. i remember feeling at peace. i remember the pride swelling in my heart as my little girl found another seashell, and whooped with delight.
it was a good dream.
Post script
At the risk of sounding ungrateful, and please know that i hope for a healthy one of either flavour, i would rather like to have a little girl. I think this dream sort of punctuates that dream. She would be the apple of her daddy's eye. Adored by both her parents. and maybe just a little spoiled.
Ode to maternity wear
The joy! The wonder! The comfort!
I never knew comfort until I tried on some maternity wear over the weekend. It was wonderful.
My body has gone into some form of rebellion against my clothes. My clothes are losing the battle. Everything is tight; the zips of my pants have decided that closing is for the birds. My tops have decided that hugging my belly bulge is all they feel like doing. Comfort went out the door.
And she who is not comfy in her clothes, will not be relaxed, or be confident.
Enter maternity clothes: The great war mediator. The negotiator. The saviour of my comfort zone.
2 grand later, I am finally comfy in my new threads.
I never knew comfort until I tried on some maternity wear over the weekend. It was wonderful.
My body has gone into some form of rebellion against my clothes. My clothes are losing the battle. Everything is tight; the zips of my pants have decided that closing is for the birds. My tops have decided that hugging my belly bulge is all they feel like doing. Comfort went out the door.
And she who is not comfy in her clothes, will not be relaxed, or be confident.
Enter maternity clothes: The great war mediator. The negotiator. The saviour of my comfort zone.
2 grand later, I am finally comfy in my new threads.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Brief interjection
The spawning of this blog was a direct result of a feeling of misdirection and general confusion. I felt this new development deserved it's own venting space. A new creation for a new life. And, as such, this did not belong in the padded cage.
So, therefore, herewith, the lunar eclipse / making of / progression of --> a hybrid baby. Or, where ebony meets ivory - an unexpected clash. Or, new beginnings. Or, the life and times of spontaneous unplanned implantation of a hybrid kind. Or, Ye olde hybred bastardisatione.
I figured "Hybrid theory" would probably have copyright issues attached. Who woulda thunk it. I sure as L didn't.
And, therefore, i now present, from a barren wasteland of fruitlessness: the prodigious progeny of prolific proportions.
(Pardon all the puns...)
So, therefore, herewith, the lunar eclipse / making of / progression of --> a hybrid baby. Or, where ebony meets ivory - an unexpected clash. Or, new beginnings. Or, the life and times of spontaneous unplanned implantation of a hybrid kind. Or, Ye olde hybred bastardisatione.
I figured "Hybrid theory" would probably have copyright issues attached. Who woulda thunk it. I sure as L didn't.
And, therefore, i now present, from a barren wasteland of fruitlessness: the prodigious progeny of prolific proportions.
(Pardon all the puns...)
Weak at 11
This pregnancy thing is a bit disconcerting. There have been mingled responses. From shock to joy to amusement. It has all been rather … weird.
The fatigue and pukey-ness has died down for now. Notice how I did not say it has disappeared. Crackerbread early in the morning does the trick; Take one every morning and repeat as necessary.
My clothes have for the most part fallen into disuse. It sort of hurts me on the inside, when I look at that pair of hot boots that go so well with my skinny jeans… Those same skinny jeans that are now in a state of mutiny – simply refusing to close around my waist. It may be time to start having a closer look at my diet. Choose healthier options. Too much gorging.
My online research shows that different women start showing at different times, and at different sizes. For a myriad reasons. I, for example, gained 5kg’s in 2 weeks, but have since stabilised. Despite the variances from girl to girl, there are averages one must take into consideration. For example, in the first 2 months, you shouldn’t gain more than 30% of your total 10 – 12kg pregnancy gain. Towards the last 3 months, one should be gaining about a kg a week. Or something. (I can’t remember if it’s a pound or a kg per week. Stupid Americans with their pound system)
This weekend, there will be much shopping and looking around bridal stores. The wedding “due date” approaches with record speed. Also, final talks with various medical aids have been concluded today. They don’t cover much. Not much at all – even when you consider that this was, for all intents and purposes, an accident.
I am stoked for the next doctor’s visit and sonar. I’m hoping to find out the flavour. I’m at about 11 weeks now. Legend has it you can see as early as 12, but really only at 20 weeks. I don’t wanna waste a sonar. Those things are expensive. But, I am dying to find out. There are names to be chosen!
And, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder, what have I gotten myself into?
The fatigue and pukey-ness has died down for now. Notice how I did not say it has disappeared. Crackerbread early in the morning does the trick; Take one every morning and repeat as necessary.
My clothes have for the most part fallen into disuse. It sort of hurts me on the inside, when I look at that pair of hot boots that go so well with my skinny jeans… Those same skinny jeans that are now in a state of mutiny – simply refusing to close around my waist. It may be time to start having a closer look at my diet. Choose healthier options. Too much gorging.
My online research shows that different women start showing at different times, and at different sizes. For a myriad reasons. I, for example, gained 5kg’s in 2 weeks, but have since stabilised. Despite the variances from girl to girl, there are averages one must take into consideration. For example, in the first 2 months, you shouldn’t gain more than 30% of your total 10 – 12kg pregnancy gain. Towards the last 3 months, one should be gaining about a kg a week. Or something. (I can’t remember if it’s a pound or a kg per week. Stupid Americans with their pound system)
This weekend, there will be much shopping and looking around bridal stores. The wedding “due date” approaches with record speed. Also, final talks with various medical aids have been concluded today. They don’t cover much. Not much at all – even when you consider that this was, for all intents and purposes, an accident.
I am stoked for the next doctor’s visit and sonar. I’m hoping to find out the flavour. I’m at about 11 weeks now. Legend has it you can see as early as 12, but really only at 20 weeks. I don’t wanna waste a sonar. Those things are expensive. But, I am dying to find out. There are names to be chosen!
And, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder, what have I gotten myself into?
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I'm Preggers
It has been 2 weeks since the fateful day that i received the news.
i'd skipped one, something that never happens to me. so, i went for a quick bloodtest, during lunch. i mean, why not. R100 later, "It's positive, congratulations."
It's been a tumultuous 2 weeks since.
The boyfriend drove from his place of residence (a 3 hour trip), and took a day's leave to come be with me. i was pretty shaken up. a call to his father in malaysia, and his parents are home that weekend, to lecture, encourage, interrogate.
his father will not be a conspirator, so my parents must be told.
rewind to a week ago, and one shocking email to my dad. my mom called me that night, seething. i have thrown my life away, made myself cheap. "I'm not that young, mom." My dad was in shock, he told all his siblings.
Fast forward to last weekend, spent on the farm. cousins, uncles aunts, brother, boyfriend, all gathered for the sake of the farm. nothing was said, but that is the style of the family.
and currently, what does the future hold? on sunday, there will be a meet and greet between my parents and his. who will all attend, remains to be seen. there will be negotiations. of what exactly, also remains to be seen.
yesterday i went for a sonar. i saw the fishy, chilling in my gut, swimming around. i heard the heartbeat, saw it. and i smiled.
further blood tests reveal that i am 100% healthy, as is my growing parasite. i'm 8 weeks and 3 days into this thing. the nausea and tiredness lessen when i take my vitamins. i wish i didnt have to work. i get so tired. my mind is a fuzzy mess. i'm just SO tired.
my loving and adoring bf is very excited, stoked really. there will be a birth and a wedding. wrong sequence, but... the modern world allows for this sort of thing. it will not be too much of a scandal.
of two things i am sure -- i am going to have this baby. and, there will be a wedding.
i've picked up 5kg's in rather quick succession over the last 8 weeks. my stomach has become a bit round. but, it doesn't look suspicious yet. few people on my mother's side of the extended family know, but this will soon change, no doubt. juicy news seldom stays secret.
i have obtained a scrapbooking kit and a digital camera for the progress of this gestation and eventual popping. i'm having difficulty taking pictures of my ever expanding stomach. the quality is less than great. i suspect this has more to do with my n00b status, than the camera itself. i will look into it at greater length when i have more time.
i need to buy glue and print pictures.
how do i feel about it?
I don't know, really. It's daunting and scary, but exciting. maybe some form of maternal instinct will kick in. i have no preferance of flavour, be it strawberry or bubblegum. i just want to do my best to ensure my parasite comes out rosy cheeked and plump.
can pregnant ladies imbibe energy drinks?
i'd skipped one, something that never happens to me. so, i went for a quick bloodtest, during lunch. i mean, why not. R100 later, "It's positive, congratulations."
It's been a tumultuous 2 weeks since.
The boyfriend drove from his place of residence (a 3 hour trip), and took a day's leave to come be with me. i was pretty shaken up. a call to his father in malaysia, and his parents are home that weekend, to lecture, encourage, interrogate.
his father will not be a conspirator, so my parents must be told.
rewind to a week ago, and one shocking email to my dad. my mom called me that night, seething. i have thrown my life away, made myself cheap. "I'm not that young, mom." My dad was in shock, he told all his siblings.
Fast forward to last weekend, spent on the farm. cousins, uncles aunts, brother, boyfriend, all gathered for the sake of the farm. nothing was said, but that is the style of the family.
and currently, what does the future hold? on sunday, there will be a meet and greet between my parents and his. who will all attend, remains to be seen. there will be negotiations. of what exactly, also remains to be seen.
yesterday i went for a sonar. i saw the fishy, chilling in my gut, swimming around. i heard the heartbeat, saw it. and i smiled.
further blood tests reveal that i am 100% healthy, as is my growing parasite. i'm 8 weeks and 3 days into this thing. the nausea and tiredness lessen when i take my vitamins. i wish i didnt have to work. i get so tired. my mind is a fuzzy mess. i'm just SO tired.
my loving and adoring bf is very excited, stoked really. there will be a birth and a wedding. wrong sequence, but... the modern world allows for this sort of thing. it will not be too much of a scandal.
of two things i am sure -- i am going to have this baby. and, there will be a wedding.
i've picked up 5kg's in rather quick succession over the last 8 weeks. my stomach has become a bit round. but, it doesn't look suspicious yet. few people on my mother's side of the extended family know, but this will soon change, no doubt. juicy news seldom stays secret.
i have obtained a scrapbooking kit and a digital camera for the progress of this gestation and eventual popping. i'm having difficulty taking pictures of my ever expanding stomach. the quality is less than great. i suspect this has more to do with my n00b status, than the camera itself. i will look into it at greater length when i have more time.
i need to buy glue and print pictures.
how do i feel about it?
I don't know, really. It's daunting and scary, but exciting. maybe some form of maternal instinct will kick in. i have no preferance of flavour, be it strawberry or bubblegum. i just want to do my best to ensure my parasite comes out rosy cheeked and plump.
can pregnant ladies imbibe energy drinks?
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