Week 35: I caught the clamp.

Hello, pre-eclampsia.  You were NOT invited to this party.

So, I was in Boulder.  With a crazy high blood pressure that got me stuck in a hospital.  They kept me overnight to monitor me, and Saturday evening gave me the news that I have “mild pre-eclampsia.”  I had a few too many high blood pressure readings, and 325mg of protein in my urine (the cut off is 300).  The doctor was incredibly nice and informative, and told me she would happily release me from the hospital as long as I promised to get the hell out of Colorado.  Since pre-eclampsia can get much worse (hello, liver & kidney failure!  hello, stroke & coma!) really quickly, if I stayed for the second week of training and something happened, I would end up having my baby in Boulder.  Without the Lumberjack.  No fucking thanks.

So I went back to the hotel, cried myself to sleep, woke up Sunday morning and flew home.  Where I proceeded to cry on the Lumberjack for a few more hours.

Up next?  More crying!  We saw our midwife Monday, and learned the heartbreaking news that I can’t birth there anymore.  Since I have an official diagnosis of pre-eclampsia, they can’t let me deliver there.  I have to go to a hospital.  And I KNOW that the goal is a baby.  I KNOW that I need to be healthy.  I KNOW that hospital births happen all the time and are fine and everyone gets out alive and un-traumatized and above all else, I know how lucky I am to be able to be pregnant in the first place.  I get that, I really do.

bed rest = cat naps

But fuck, I am so disappointed and sad.  I was born on a futon in the living room.  I have grown up proud of that story, and have always known that I would give birth the same way.  I’ve been meeting with my midwife for months, and LOVE her, and have established an amazing bond.  I’ve been getting all my pre-natal care in the actual room where I would give birth – I’ve had so many amazing experiences in there, I’ve seen the Lumberjack’s face light up about our baby in there, I’ve been filling that room for MONTHS with love and energy, knowing that those are the walls that will surround us when our marriage becomes a family.

I know everything’s going to be fine, but it’s not going to be what I hoped for.  And I’m just so SAD about.  However, yes, I understand that this is an excellent introduction to parenting.

So, now I’m on fucking bedrest.  Working from home, monitoring my pee & blood pressure daily.  Eating 100g of protein daily, drinking 100oz of water.  Keeping track of everything I consume, lying down as much as possible, etc.  You better believe I’m going to guilt-trip the fuck out of this kid one day.


Not the best Friday night.


So, I’m in the hospital. In Boulder. I’ve been feeling really off all week, so I checked my blood pressure today and it was ridiculously high. My midwife told me to get it tested at the hospital, and suddenly I’m in a bed strapped to a bunch of monitors. Ugh. They’re keeping me overnight to monitor my pee (I have to pee in a jug for 24 hours), to make sure there’s no protein in it. Then they’ll release me as long as I head home asap and get in bed. So I get to go home a week early, but in the meantime I’m in the fucking hospital. They say the baby “sounds perfect,” though, so that’s a relief. He’s still wiggling away!

Week 34: Back to the hotel


Now I’m in Boulder, for the second of my two 2-week trainings. I fly home next Friday, 2 days before I hit 36 weeks. I love my job, but this is just dumb. I’m trying to take it easy, but it SUCKS being in a town known for fun outdoorsy options as well as amazing beer, and not being able to take advantage of it. I’m just So Exhausted all the time. And huge! I am huge. 6 weeks to go, and I’m starting to understand the “I just don’t want to be pregnant anymore!” comments I usually hear in the last month or two. I want my body (and my ability to run up some stairs or flip over in bed) back, and I want to meet this baby already! I think he’s happy, if that doesn’t sound too crazy. He feels happy to me. And I want to see his little face.

Week 33: Welcome back, emotions.

As was promised, the third trimester is turning into the first all over again.  I am SO TIRED.  This morning I got out of breath while…making a smoothie and watering plants?  Yeah, that sure is exhausting.  After I finished breakfast I had to go sit down on the bed to recover.  I told the Lumberjack that I (honestly) just wanted to puke a few times and then go to sleep.  That sounded like the absolute best.  He did not agree with me; ergo, here I am at work.

Also!  You guys I am SO EMOTIONAL.  It’s so stupid.  That’s all I have to say about that.

We forgot to take a picture this week (yes, that made me cry when I remembered – however, I am too tired to do anything about it), but I did sit for an art drawing class so you can look at me NAKED.  So scandalous.  It’s through Dr. Sketchy’s – a program that gets art students & burlesque dancers together.  We dance and then pose; they draw us.  I emailed the woman in charge a few weeks ago and asked if she was interested in pregnant ladies and she got Very Excited.  She knew another burlesque dancer who is due 5 days after me, so we both sat for a “Very Pregnant” special Dr. Sketchy’s event.  The artists all seemed really excited…especially this one dude in a sweater vest who waited after the show to give me a drawing and tell me how wonderful this was.  He seemed reeeeeeeally happy to be talking to a pregnant lady.  Not going to lie – it was a little awkward.

On Monday I get back on a dumb plane to fly to Boulder for the second of my 2-week training events.  Thumbs down.

This post is too negative!  When I am not exhausted and/or crying, things are going quite well.  The Lumberjack is ridiculously excited about the baby, which totally cheers me up no matter how weepy I am.  I can’t wait to see this kid’s face; I hope he looks like the Lumberjack, because his is the best face in the world.

Week 32: F you, pubic bone.

So apparently this is a thing, and I have it.

Basically: there’s a joint in the pubic bone so that it can spread a bit to let out a baby.  Thanks to relaxin, some lucky ladies have pubic bones that get a little feisty and decide to open up early.  This results in the painful feeling of one’s pubic bone snapping in two.

SUUUUUUUCKS.  Okay, it’s not really THAT bad.  And it should go away once I stop being pregnant.  So that’s good.  But in the meantime, it hurts!  Suggestions for “treatment” are just tips to keep the pelvis stabilized (don’t swim the breaststroke, don’t fling one leg out of the car really fast, keep thighs parallel, etc).  My favourite is “keep your legs together.”  Thanks, smartass – if I could manage that, I wouldn’t have gotten knocked up in the first place.

Other than the whole “my pubic bone is about to snap in half” sensation that happens periodically throughout the day, I’m still feeling good.  Keeping up my iron intake, sticking with my exercise, etc.  Still on-track to birth a super genius baby.

bikini time!

The Lumberjack has gotten hilariously uber-defensive of the baby, and, by extension, me.  Anyone (humans or animals – he yelled at a goose the other day after it hissed at me) who seems to threaten my physical safety has become an enemy.  He’s sweet & gentle enough that it all just seems ridiculously cute.  How dare that jogger nearly trample me!  PROTECT THE BABY.

Baby movements have gotten intense.  He no longer just jabs me periodically – I can now feel an entire foot (or knee?  or elbow?) press against me, very solidly.  When I push back, he slides to the side and IT IS SO CREEPY, YOU GUYS.  I am so happy & so excited & totally full of OMG I AM GROWING AN AMAZING HUMAN BABY but still, it’s fucking creepy.

I’m totally in awe of what my body is currently up to.  I’m growing a person!  WTF?!  I’m having a lot of empathy these days for people who want to do this but are unable to.  It seems so bizarre that some of us have bodies that can get knocked up without even trying while others can’t get there despite trying everything possible, and there’s no logic or reason for the difference.  I feel very grateful and lucky that once this kid pops out, we get to just take him home and BAM we have a baby.  No lengthy adoption waiting lists or interviews or ridiculous costs or whatever.  Due solely to our untamed fertility, the Lumberjack & I get to have the family we want.  It’s giving me a wider perspective on the issue, similar to the greater understanding I had towards marriage after I actually got hitched (aka for fuck’s sake, let everyone get married you dickheads).

To sum up: I like being pregnant, I don’t like my pubic bone, I love the Lumberjack, and I should get back to work.