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.
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