Last weekend, the grandmas-to-be hosted a baby shower for our little monkey. Our aunts, cousins and friends of our moms descended upon us in droves to present us with all the accoutrements necessary to housing, feeding, diapering, clothing and caring for a baby. Both Babydaddy and I were overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness of everyone who attended and consider ourselves so blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives.
We are now flush with diapers, which is a huge relief...we're going the cloth route with diapering. The massive amounts of money parents spend on diapering, coupled with the environmental impact of disposable diapers made me certain that cloth was the right choice for us. A disposable diaper will sit in a landfill for 250 years before decomposing! That weighs on my conscious, given my affection for Planet Earth. Furthermore, average potty-training age has risen expotentially since the introduction of disposable diapers...I'm optimistic that my diapering years will be limited by using cloth. That and the fact that both Babydaddy and I loved being clean and nude far too much to stay in diapers for long.
We're slowly working on getting the nursery ready for the little monkey -then we can unpack all our fantastic gifts and get to work arguing about how to set up the swing and bouncy chair!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Only Six More Weeks!
Despite the many assurances from laypeople and medical professionals alike, my nausea and so-called morning sickness has continued, uninterrupted, for tje last 28 weeks. It reared its ugly head around the six week mark, meaning that I've ralphed daily in three seasons, two countries, half a dozen bathrooms, morning, noon and night.
Everytime a person asks how I'm feeling or how pregnancy is treating me, I'm honest. Pregnancy hasn't been awful...no swelling, no weight gain, no leg cramps, no acne or mask of pregnancy, no stretch marks, no headaches, no diabetes. My blood pressure is perfect and the baby, by all accounts, appears happy and healthy. I do admit, however, that I still have morning sickness. At first people would say "Oh, that will end by 14 weeks" then "16 weeks" then "18 weeks" and eventually "that will end...when the baby's born." Let's hope!
Last night was my first bout of middle-of-the-night vomiting. I woke up for my regular 3:30 AM pee and decided to have a few sips of juice, since I was feeling nauseated. I got back into bed and dozed for a while before rising once again to empty my ever-bursting bladder. After I piddled and washed my hands, the familiar urge to throw up washed over me. I hunched over the sink, bringing the little juice I drank and remnants of my bedtime snack. A thorough toothbrushing and facewashing later, I was back in bed, desperate for a few more hours of nausea-free sleep.
My mantra has become "only [blank] more weeks" til I can wake up without throwing up. Only six more weeks!
Everytime a person asks how I'm feeling or how pregnancy is treating me, I'm honest. Pregnancy hasn't been awful...no swelling, no weight gain, no leg cramps, no acne or mask of pregnancy, no stretch marks, no headaches, no diabetes. My blood pressure is perfect and the baby, by all accounts, appears happy and healthy. I do admit, however, that I still have morning sickness. At first people would say "Oh, that will end by 14 weeks" then "16 weeks" then "18 weeks" and eventually "that will end...when the baby's born." Let's hope!
Last night was my first bout of middle-of-the-night vomiting. I woke up for my regular 3:30 AM pee and decided to have a few sips of juice, since I was feeling nauseated. I got back into bed and dozed for a while before rising once again to empty my ever-bursting bladder. After I piddled and washed my hands, the familiar urge to throw up washed over me. I hunched over the sink, bringing the little juice I drank and remnants of my bedtime snack. A thorough toothbrushing and facewashing later, I was back in bed, desperate for a few more hours of nausea-free sleep.
My mantra has become "only [blank] more weeks" til I can wake up without throwing up. Only six more weeks!
Hospital Tour
Our hospital offers monthly virtual tours of their facility to allow expectant parents to familiarize themselves with the procedures abd policies surrounding labour and delivery.
The first portion of the evening was all about anathesia, although our current birth plan includes a drug-free labour. While the information was...there and important in case of c-section, it was delivered as slowly and painfully as possible. It made me want an injection of morphine right then and there! We had to sit through the presentation, however, to get to the main reason for our attendance -the hospital tour!
The nurse presenting the tour was funny, warm and animated. And everything she said ticked the boxes on my list of labour, delivery and recovery "wants". Changing positions throughout labour? Check! Pursuing a variety of pushing positions? Check! Showers for comfort? Check! Hydrotheraphy tub? Check! Immediate skin to skin with baby? Check! Breastfeeding within moments of delivery? Check! Babydaddy allowed to overnight with baby and I? Check!
Learning all this makes me feel even more comfortable and confident about giving birth. However comfortable one can feel about pushing an object the size of a watermelon out of a 10 cm opening..
The first portion of the evening was all about anathesia, although our current birth plan includes a drug-free labour. While the information was...there and important in case of c-section, it was delivered as slowly and painfully as possible. It made me want an injection of morphine right then and there! We had to sit through the presentation, however, to get to the main reason for our attendance -the hospital tour!
The nurse presenting the tour was funny, warm and animated. And everything she said ticked the boxes on my list of labour, delivery and recovery "wants". Changing positions throughout labour? Check! Pursuing a variety of pushing positions? Check! Showers for comfort? Check! Hydrotheraphy tub? Check! Immediate skin to skin with baby? Check! Breastfeeding within moments of delivery? Check! Babydaddy allowed to overnight with baby and I? Check!
Learning all this makes me feel even more comfortable and confident about giving birth. However comfortable one can feel about pushing an object the size of a watermelon out of a 10 cm opening..
Friday, November 11, 2011
Little Bunton Bag
With two solid boy's names both Babydaddy and I love, I'm a bit panicked that we only have one solid girl's name. If we have a boy, we'll look him over before deciding which name best suits our son. And if we have a girl, we better hope she fits the name we picked. Otherwise, we're in trouble.
Yesterday, Babydaddy picked me up from work. On the drive home, I mentioned that the baby is now the size of a honeydew melon. We joked about the baby having green-tinged skin like a alien or Bunsen Honeydew, the Muppets character. "What about the name Bunsen?" I asked in jest. That was my first mistake.
Babydaddy: How about the name Bunton?
Me: Bunton?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: Bunton Baerbig?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: What would the middle name be?
Babydaddy: Bag.
Me: Bunton Bag? Bunton Bag Baerbig?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: What would we call the baby for short?
Babydaddy: Bunt.
Me: Bunt? What about Bunbun? Or Bunny!
Babydaddy: No. Bunt.
Me: Ugh.
And that, my friends, is why we don't have a second girl's name. At least he makes me laugh.
Yesterday, Babydaddy picked me up from work. On the drive home, I mentioned that the baby is now the size of a honeydew melon. We joked about the baby having green-tinged skin like a alien or Bunsen Honeydew, the Muppets character. "What about the name Bunsen?" I asked in jest. That was my first mistake.
Babydaddy: How about the name Bunton?
Me: Bunton?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: Bunton Baerbig?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: What would the middle name be?
Babydaddy: Bag.
Me: Bunton Bag? Bunton Bag Baerbig?
Babydaddy: Yes!
Me: What would we call the baby for short?
Babydaddy: Bunt.
Me: Bunt? What about Bunbun? Or Bunny!
Babydaddy: No. Bunt.
Me: Ugh.
And that, my friends, is why we don't have a second girl's name. At least he makes me laugh.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
"No Patience" Pachet
Chalk it up to hormones...my patience appears to have waned, perhaps storing up for parenthood, when it will be sorely needed. Specifically, my tolerance for stupidity, lack of courtesy, dangerous behaviour and rudeness in adults is at an all-time low.
Things that set me off include:
Able-bodied teenagers and adults not giving up a seat on the bus to the differently-abled, elderly or pregnant. This especially includes that very large dude in his late-thirties who sits in an accessible seat with his legs spread so far apart, that he often takes up three seats. Seriously, are your balls that big?
Drivers who don't use their signals, speed, cut off other vehicles, are too slow, are texting behind the wheel, appear distracted...ok, fine, ALL drivers. I have a precious, honey dew-sized package to protect!
Customers who don't consider other patrons during their transactions. For instance, after an appointment yesterday evening, Babydaddy and I were heading home to eat a long overdue dinner. I needed to stop at 7-11 to pick up bus tickets (andgetarootbeerslurpee). As I walked in, there were two women at the counter being rung through by the cashier. I got in line behind a nice couple buying pints of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. The women at the counter were still paying...or so I thought. Turns out they were wandering around the store, selecting more items to buy, as the line of customers behind them got longer and longer. As she was handing the cash to the incredibly patient cashier, the first woman spotted some beef jerky...she asked a question I couldn't hear, then meandered down the candy aisle, cash in hand, to stare at something for two minutes. She returned to the counter, EMPTY HANDED, paid, took forever to get her groceries off the counter and leave. Babydaddy stormed into the store, worried I had given birth amongst the Doritos and day-old hotdogs, only to find me fuming in line.
Given my general timidity and reluctance to call people on their shit, my frustration is mostly spewed out privately to my family and friends. I can't imagine the number of new assholes I'd have ripped around this city if I let loose. Most of the time, I can laugh about it later, chuckling at my ire and ridiculous threats of knocking on windows at red lights.
Some people miss seeing their feet during the last stage of pregnancy; I miss not wanting to shove mine up everyone's ass.
Things that set me off include:
Able-bodied teenagers and adults not giving up a seat on the bus to the differently-abled, elderly or pregnant. This especially includes that very large dude in his late-thirties who sits in an accessible seat with his legs spread so far apart, that he often takes up three seats. Seriously, are your balls that big?
Drivers who don't use their signals, speed, cut off other vehicles, are too slow, are texting behind the wheel, appear distracted...ok, fine, ALL drivers. I have a precious, honey dew-sized package to protect!
Customers who don't consider other patrons during their transactions. For instance, after an appointment yesterday evening, Babydaddy and I were heading home to eat a long overdue dinner. I needed to stop at 7-11 to pick up bus tickets (andgetarootbeerslurpee). As I walked in, there were two women at the counter being rung through by the cashier. I got in line behind a nice couple buying pints of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. The women at the counter were still paying...or so I thought. Turns out they were wandering around the store, selecting more items to buy, as the line of customers behind them got longer and longer. As she was handing the cash to the incredibly patient cashier, the first woman spotted some beef jerky...she asked a question I couldn't hear, then meandered down the candy aisle, cash in hand, to stare at something for two minutes. She returned to the counter, EMPTY HANDED, paid, took forever to get her groceries off the counter and leave. Babydaddy stormed into the store, worried I had given birth amongst the Doritos and day-old hotdogs, only to find me fuming in line.
Given my general timidity and reluctance to call people on their shit, my frustration is mostly spewed out privately to my family and friends. I can't imagine the number of new assholes I'd have ripped around this city if I let loose. Most of the time, I can laugh about it later, chuckling at my ire and ridiculous threats of knocking on windows at red lights.
Some people miss seeing their feet during the last stage of pregnancy; I miss not wanting to shove mine up everyone's ass.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Let It Snow!
The morning of the first snowfall of the year, Babydaddy and I were slowly getting ourselves out of bed. I was happy; snow represents Christmas and crisp night skies, hoarfrost and hockey. Babydaddy was grouchy; snow means cold. Hahrumph!
I mentioned that snow is so much fun as a kid...my sisters and I were constantly toboganning, building forts and quincies and "painting" the snow with spray bottles of water and food colouring. There's a great photo of my sister and I scraping together the last bit of snow in our backyard to make one last snowman of the year, circa 1988. Snow, although cold, is one of the best things about growing up in this climate.
Admittedly, there are plenty of things that lose their lustre upon reaching adulthood. As a new parent, however, these events/activities/weather conditions are renewed as fun and exciting once again. Snow is a prime example; I can't wait until our little monkey is old enough to safely fly down a hill on a cheap, plastic sled, screaming the whole way in a mix of delight and fear. We could make it a weekly outing! However, for the past ten years or so, I could usually only muster enough enthusiasm and drive to hurl myself down a hill covered in ice and snow once annually.
My parents would tirelessly carry toboggans up countless hills and dispense endless mugs of hot chocolate each winter. My dad would build elaborate forts in our backyard, creating tiny toboggan runs for those days we couldn't get away to the bigger driving-distance hills. My mom would sacrifice old sheets to put a roof and a door over quincies we would build at the floodway, which served as a shelter from the wind during marathon sledding sessions. My parents even bought a harness for our dog, Riley, so he could pull us down the street on a sled.
Winter doesn't mean being trapped indoors, while your store of vitamin D is depleted and the sun is but a distance memory. With a little parent-power, I say let it snow!
I mentioned that snow is so much fun as a kid...my sisters and I were constantly toboganning, building forts and quincies and "painting" the snow with spray bottles of water and food colouring. There's a great photo of my sister and I scraping together the last bit of snow in our backyard to make one last snowman of the year, circa 1988. Snow, although cold, is one of the best things about growing up in this climate.
Admittedly, there are plenty of things that lose their lustre upon reaching adulthood. As a new parent, however, these events/activities/weather conditions are renewed as fun and exciting once again. Snow is a prime example; I can't wait until our little monkey is old enough to safely fly down a hill on a cheap, plastic sled, screaming the whole way in a mix of delight and fear. We could make it a weekly outing! However, for the past ten years or so, I could usually only muster enough enthusiasm and drive to hurl myself down a hill covered in ice and snow once annually.
My parents would tirelessly carry toboggans up countless hills and dispense endless mugs of hot chocolate each winter. My dad would build elaborate forts in our backyard, creating tiny toboggan runs for those days we couldn't get away to the bigger driving-distance hills. My mom would sacrifice old sheets to put a roof and a door over quincies we would build at the floodway, which served as a shelter from the wind during marathon sledding sessions. My parents even bought a harness for our dog, Riley, so he could pull us down the street on a sled.
Winter doesn't mean being trapped indoors, while your store of vitamin D is depleted and the sun is but a distance memory. With a little parent-power, I say let it snow!
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Etymology of Pregnancy
Today one of my coworkers and I were discussing how far along I am in my pregnancy, when he exclaimed "Your oven is almost done!" It got me thinking about all the hilarious, bizarre, lame and stupid expressions we have used and currently use for pregnancy. Here are some little gems I can help but share...
"In a delicate state" - reminds me of a late 19th century socialite with a much-older husband and a penchant for fainting at the slightest surprise. Verdict: we should bring it back, ladies!
"In a family way" - This is the worst idiom for pregnancy ever. Firstly, this reminds me of casseroles made of Campbell's Soup and hair that needs to be set on a weekly basis. Secondly, it implies that without a baby, a couple isn't a family. Verdict: don't use it in my presence.
"With child" - Makes me want to break out the patchouli and love beads. Being with child, however, is kind of sweet. How many mothers-to-be walk around referring to the baby as "the fetus"? Babydaddy feels bad when we call our baby an "it". Verdict: a throwback without being repressive.
"Knocked up" - A personal favourite. Being knocked up definitely alludes to surprise or happy accident. Unlike "a delicate state", knocked up also gives the impending mom a tough, bad-ass edge. Verdict: Sounds marginally low-class, gets the point across.
"Expecting" - Although this is widely used, it seems silly. A person expects lots of thing...the cable company to show up, a promotion at work, winter...so unless it's followed by "a baby", it's a little vague. Verdict: use it at your leisure, but if someone asks you "what?" don't be offended.
"Preggo" - A misspelling for that mediocre pasta sauce. Verdict: leave it for the spaghetti.
"Pregger MacGregor" - Babydaddy's clever description of my "state"...an homage to the many times we drove by MacGregor when we lived in western Manitoba. Verdict: I like it because it was created especially for me -at least, I'm going to pretend it was.
"Bun in the oven" - I feel sorry for ovens now. Getting punched, kicked and jabbed, throwing up, losing sleep and feeling tired every time some idiot baker decides to make themselves some bread. Verdict: Poor oven.
"In a delicate state" - reminds me of a late 19th century socialite with a much-older husband and a penchant for fainting at the slightest surprise. Verdict: we should bring it back, ladies!
"In a family way" - This is the worst idiom for pregnancy ever. Firstly, this reminds me of casseroles made of Campbell's Soup and hair that needs to be set on a weekly basis. Secondly, it implies that without a baby, a couple isn't a family. Verdict: don't use it in my presence.
"With child" - Makes me want to break out the patchouli and love beads. Being with child, however, is kind of sweet. How many mothers-to-be walk around referring to the baby as "the fetus"? Babydaddy feels bad when we call our baby an "it". Verdict: a throwback without being repressive.
"Knocked up" - A personal favourite. Being knocked up definitely alludes to surprise or happy accident. Unlike "a delicate state", knocked up also gives the impending mom a tough, bad-ass edge. Verdict: Sounds marginally low-class, gets the point across.
"Expecting" - Although this is widely used, it seems silly. A person expects lots of thing...the cable company to show up, a promotion at work, winter...so unless it's followed by "a baby", it's a little vague. Verdict: use it at your leisure, but if someone asks you "what?" don't be offended.
"Preggo" - A misspelling for that mediocre pasta sauce. Verdict: leave it for the spaghetti.
"Pregger MacGregor" - Babydaddy's clever description of my "state"...an homage to the many times we drove by MacGregor when we lived in western Manitoba. Verdict: I like it because it was created especially for me -at least, I'm going to pretend it was.
"Bun in the oven" - I feel sorry for ovens now. Getting punched, kicked and jabbed, throwing up, losing sleep and feeling tired every time some idiot baker decides to make themselves some bread. Verdict: Poor oven.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Baby Ninja Streetfighter
I'm convinced that if I could see inside my uterus, it would be black and blue. This baby is a hearty kicker and puncher, when it wants to be. Usually, the baby makes relaxed turns and little sweeping motions, causing my bump to ripple and move. However, several times a week, the baby seems to throw a tantrum of sorts, doubling me over with pain.
Yesterday, I was cuddling with Zoe the Chihuahua watching the pilot of Once Upon a Time. Zoe, completely uninterested in the show, dozed off. Meanwhile, the baby, enraged by one thing or another, decided to jab me in the ovary with a foot. Jab, stamp, curb-stomp. It was unexpected and ridiculously painful. I yelled out in shock. Poor Zoe was startled out of her adorable sleep, looking at me as though I were insane. I apologized to her, tucking her into a blanket. She nodded off once more, only to be awoken again by my cry of agony as the baby laid the smack down for the second time in five minutes.
Seriously? Does he have a knife or throwing stars or a mace in there?
Yesterday, I was cuddling with Zoe the Chihuahua watching the pilot of Once Upon a Time. Zoe, completely uninterested in the show, dozed off. Meanwhile, the baby, enraged by one thing or another, decided to jab me in the ovary with a foot. Jab, stamp, curb-stomp. It was unexpected and ridiculously painful. I yelled out in shock. Poor Zoe was startled out of her adorable sleep, looking at me as though I were insane. I apologized to her, tucking her into a blanket. She nodded off once more, only to be awoken again by my cry of agony as the baby laid the smack down for the second time in five minutes.
Seriously? Does he have a knife or throwing stars or a mace in there?
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