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.
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