If You Can't Take the Heat...

Don't fly to Houston! I just returned from officially my last business trip before maternity leave to Houston for the annual wind energy conference.

I had scoped out Accuweather before leaving - it was going to be in the 90s the whole time that I was there! "Great," I thought. I'm 8 1/2 months pregnant, already swelling up like a balloon in the afternoon and here I am trying to tromp around Houston in 90-degree heat. The last thing I wanted to do was go buy clothes for my last 4 weeks. So, I sucked it up and took out the three maternity dresses that I own (some long-sleeve) and my one pair of capris for my five day trip.

Little did I prepare myself for the actual flight itself. Yeah, sure, I thought about the long walk down the terminal, security check, blah, blah, blah, but I didn't think about exactly how I'd feel on the plane, or gee, lifting my carry-on into the luggage compartment above, or dragging my luggage down to the rental car place. "Superwoman" just didn't give that any thought.

So, you can imagine my surprise as Baby Gavin spazzed out on take-off, like hello "what in the HELL is going on, Mom". Imagine waking up from a dream where you think you are falling and that's kinda what it felt like he had done in my belly. So, I rubbed my belly as we reached our cruising altitude and he calmed down. But, as my flight progressed, I realized that my legs started to feel more and more liked cased sausages that wanted to explode (not to mention my uncontrollable, well-timed bladder that just has to visit the ladies room every 1 1/2 hours on cue). My feet were so fat, I was praising the Lord that I had worn flip flops. I felt bad for my rowmates, which were a dad and his little 2-year old. There is no shimmying past them with my belly. So, I had to cling for dear life to the seat in front of me as I slithered past the 2-year old that was sleeping. The dad says to me, "Just let me know when you need to get up." Yes, I know I'm annoying, I'm sorry. I think I only made him move 2 or 3 times during our 2 1/2 hour flight.

The rest of the trip was not as eventful, at least not until the return flight with the exception of every time I tried to step out outside it's like someone turned on the Braxton-Hicks contractions and he wanted to stretch out, standing on top of my bladder. One block and I was starting to bend over and hold my belly like the quintessential pregnant lady that we always laugh about. Except, it wasn't so funny. So, I was pretty much confined to my room with lots of air conditioning.

Return flight: A little bit of the same, but worse. Gavin didn't spazz out as much, but my right side was incredibly sore. We sat on the tarmac for about 45 minutes before actually departing and although I had at least emptied my bladder before we left, I was still completely miserable. I had made the mistake of wearing my capris on home. The one with the belly band that seems to be cinching me slowly in half right at my hip bones. Yeah, that one. My little fat sausage legs had returned within the hour. Only this time I had made the fantastic decision to wear my dress flats home. Yeah, bad idea. So, I sat through my uncomfortably, unbearable flight, wedged in my seat, trying to hold my bladder as I watched my rowmate cuddle up on the other two seats, like it was a friggin holiday, and snooze the whole way. And, what does a pregnant lady eat for dinner - pretzels. Well, at least the flight attendant was nice enough to ration three bags to me. Yeah, that held me off until my McDonald's visit at 1am in Crofton on the way home. On top of all this, I had checked my bag this time. Mainly b/c I had bought about 10 air freshners from Bath & Body Works (they were having a SALE, man!) and I didn't want to be pulled aside by security, pregnant ass and all, to explain why I had 10 air freshners in my bag.

My journey home finally began somewhere around 12:30am (I was supposed to be in by 11:30pm) and by this time I wanted to gnaw my hand off since lunch was around 1pm. I stopped at Mickey D's for their 24 hour drive-thru service, jonesing for a McChicken. Slowpoke finally decides to take my order and I gladly order my McChicken. "Yeah, we are only serving on the late night menu." Wrong answer, buddy. "What does that mean?" "You can pick from #'s 2-10." "So, you don't have any McChickens?" So, what does my fat bloated ass decide to eat at 1am - a 10-piece McNugget meal and some COLD fries. Yumm-o! And, don't think I didn't eat them all either.

And, after all that, what do I bring back from Houston. The damn heat!

Little Tickles

Yes, I need to post more preggers pics and will soon. But I was just thinking the other day as Baby Godfrey once again tickles me from the inside that I don't recall Baeleigh ever doing that. Baby is so much more active than Baeleigh was in utero. I guess that was from her being pinned down with the umbilical cord three times against my rib cage. But this one, oh no, he's doing full somersaults in there.

The new thing is little tickles though - I don't know if it's Baby's toes, fingers, or what but it's definitely some small part of his body that likes to tickle my sides. Like a little flutter against my side...from the inside. Coochie-coo, mommy.

Then, there is the no so ticklish jamming of the toes or arm into my hip, rib or my personal favorite a utter disregard for my weak little bladder and he just flat out "sits" down on it. It's almost a daily occurrence that I have just barely made it to the bathroom from the immense pressure.

Yesterday, something was pushed so hard against the wall of my belly - I'm guessing a shoulder or a head - that it had formed this weird cone off to the left of my belly button. I thought I was going to have a reinactment of the scene from the movie "Total Recall". :)

I guess the next phase will be the stretching out of the entire body. Baeleigh was good at that. I had to kinda lean backwards to breathe and get her to resituate herself. Though, I have noticed that it's becoming harder to get a deep breath lately.

Oh the fun of the third trimester! ;)

One Fell Down and Bumped Her Head (And Her Foot)

What is it about being pregnant that makes me such a klutz? Last Friday I climbed up to bed groggy around 11:30pm, snuggled up and zonked out. Somewhere around midnight, I freaked out about a snake on the ceiling, somewhat reminiscent of the snake that Beetlejuice turns into from the stair rail (and no, I hadn't just watched the movie). Being more than just quasi-awake in my hurry to rush out of the bed and get out from beneath the snake that was going to jump on me, I probably would have realized that snakes can't be on ceilings. Yeah. Anyway, klutz-o got her foot caught in the bedspread and took a head first dive into the floor. I didn't even have time to raise my arms to catch myself. I landed right on the crown on my head, to a fun-sounding "crunch" which I can only remember saying in my head "oh, that's not good" and then my right foot landing hard into the floor. At the time, my neck was numb yet also extremely painful at the same time. Yes, I realize that doesn't make sense. I hesitated for a moment to get up, thinking whether or not I should move. I remember grabbing my neck, sort of sobbing in pain, when Tommy found me on the floor. He had been downstairs finishing up watching a basketball game, slowly realizing that it was me that probably fell after seeing that Maximus was in the same room with him sleeping. My right foot seemed frozen but was throbbing. I didn't know what was worse, sitting on the bed or attempting to lay back as Tommy held the weight of my head. His brilliant idea. My foot was just throbbing, pulsing with pain. I popped two Tylenol, which is all I can take right now being pregnant. I can't even tell you what that felt like to lean my head back to take the sip of water to take the pills. Ow! Tommy had convinced me that a 3-foot fall couldn't be that bad and there wasn't much a hospital could do, but I still kept muttering "maybe I should go to the hospital". The only comforting feeling was the Baby bumping around in my tummy. Baby seemed OK. So, I attempted to just settle in for the night. Saturday I sat on the couch all day with a heating pad on my back and ice on my foot. My back seemed a little better, but my range of motion was horrible and I was very sore. My foot was now extremely swollen and purple, still feeling frozen. By Sunday, I limped to Easter and borrowed my Aunt Vickie's bunyon stiff shoe (ok, and her cane), that helped. Though, I was walking on the outer side of my foot, sort of. I had felt a few contractions here and there but by Monday they seemed a little more frequent. I finally called up my ob/gyn and they told me to head to the ER and just get checked out. Four hours later, baby was good, I was having some contractions, no one checked my back or foot (oddly). I was yelled at more about drinking water and being dehydrated then the actual fall. So, when I had my monthly prenatal visit today, Dr. M looked at my foot, "I think you fractured it, I'm calling for an x-ray." Sure enough my right big toe is broken in two places, second toe badly bruised. Gotta see the doc again in a week to make sure it's still straight (somehow it happens to be aligned right), but if it moves I might have to have surgery. Wha, what, surgery!? And, when would that happen, after I pop the baby out??? I'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Meanwhile, I'm going to try to stay still and keep from damaging myself any further. Sheesh!

Clumsy Mumsy

In addition to be the world's worst cook lately (e.g., burning bacon, brewing coffee in the filter portion of the coffeemaker, dried out dinners, etc.), I guess I need to submit to the fact that I'm also a pregnant klutz. Yesterday, although not my first trip or spill while pregnant, I fell down the stairs. Ok, half the stairs, but still a good four or five of them. I should have known better - let's see I didn't hold on to the railing, was in a hurry, arms full of bags having just come in and tromped down the stairs full force to let Mr. Maximus out of his crate. Out of nowhere it seemed like some invisible force just cut my legs out from under me. I didn't trip, or at least I don't think I did, my legs just crumpled up underneath me. As I tumbled head first towards the basement stair's first platform (thank God for a turning staircase), I could feel my shins hit the first step, then bounce down, my knees landing HARD onto the staircase platform. It was one of those moments where time seems to just stand still. You know it's happening, yet you are somewhat numb to the pain. Then, the pain hits - excruciating pain. I had tried to put my hands out to catch myself but my kneese took the brunt. Or should I say mainly my left knee. I sat there in a fetal position (ironically) for a minute or two scared to move, thinking what if I broke or sprained something. Yes, wimpy girl hurt that bad. I had my cell next to me thank goodness but with only one bar left. I decided rather than turn into "I've fallen and I can't get up" woman, I'd attempt to go back upstairs. I did and assessed the damage. I have a pretty badly bruised, blood blistered left knee that's swollen and extremely sore and some other very sore points on my shins and ankles but OK. Baby's still jumping around, so I think we're good there. I packed some ice on it yesterday, and bandaged it up...

The moral to the story: Hold on to the railing, moron.

Here's a clip from Babycenter.com about clumsiness during pregnancy: http://www.babycenter.com/0_clumsiness-during-pregnancy_224.bc.

So, I guess this means reconsidering yoga sessions as I get bigger huh? Or maybe even now.