my-speck

i'm pregnant and it's going to be a rollercoaster

you know you’re pregnant when… October 20, 2010

Filed under: family,healthcare,Parenting,pregnancy,Raising a Child — rakster @ 8:49 am
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You know you’re pregnant when your 16 month old (yes 16 months omg I can’t really say ‘baby’ anymore, and soon we’ll move to ‘nearly two’ rather than counting in months. too quick! too quick!!!) can replicate the exact sound, pitch and timbre of your digestive farts.

Yes. The digestive farts are back in full force, and much as I’d like to think I’m the kind of refined woman that manages to keep it to herself, there just isn’t holding it in, particularly at home, and particularly when only a 16 month old is around. Who can he tell, right? …

Mm… I may be creating a little fart monster. He can now also say, “Fart”, and does so with glee.

He’s a boy, so it was bound to happen anyway, right? right? I maybe just sped up the process slightly.

written: October 20 2010…

 

Antenatal classes Mark 2#. And these iron tablets do really make me farty. April 10, 2009

Hi Speck,

Its Easter friday!  Yay for holidays.  I’m baking almond and chocolate friands to take to your Grandma K’s for an easter get together.  Your dad is doing his usual interfering and telling me my oven is too hot (despite the fact I’ve never seen him cook any cake except cheesecake in his life).  He’s just a know-all.

almond chocolate friands

almond chocolate friands

So.  Last night was antenatal classes Mark 2.  This time with a midwife instead of with a physio.  Actually learnt a lot.  Which was good – the time went quickly rather than slowly.  The class was about introducing us to the three stages of labour, and talking about when we should think about phoning the birthing ward to come to hospital.  We had a tour of a birthing suite and watched a few videos of babies being born.  Lots of things to think about. I cried watching the videos.  I’m still really emotional and I got a bit scared and excited and happy all at the same time.  Luckily I was at the back of the room so it was only your dad, the couple beside me and the midwife who noticed tears streaming down my cheeks.  Its strange to not have any real idea what is going to happen to you and how you will cope, and not have much control over it all.  It could all go smoothly and then we get to choose some things, or it could all go a bit not as expected in which case we relinquish control to a bunch of health-care professionals.  I could just lose it and go crazy in the middle of it all.  Who knows.  Maybe I’ll get to transition stage and just be adamant that I’m going to pack up and go home and pretend there is no baby business happening at all.

Anyway, I’m glad I took a notebook, as everyone had lots of questions and the class was good in that it was relatively unstructured and the midwife was thorough in her answers.  I wrote down a bunch of things I wanted to find out more about; things to ask and talk to our obstetrician about (gee, who knew that some of them still want you to get up onto the bed and be prone when you’re actually pushing the baby out in the second stage – I thought things had moved on – maybe not – gee I hope ours lets us do it however feels best for me); things for your dad and I to decide (do you need a vitamin K injection and Hep B as soon as you’re born?); and just general stuff that I thought I’d forget.   We walked to the hospital again but it was raining on the way home so we taxied.  May have to rethink the walking to the hospital idea just ’cause your dad will be in charge of bringing all the stuff along.  But maybe we can still do it just with our birthing bag, and someone can bring the rest later?  Mmm..   Anyway, I think the most important things to remember from the class was the phone number of the birth suite and basically if you get any body fluids happening then phone them.  Got it.  Phone them.  Your dad put the number in his phone.  Hopefully he can find his phone when the time comes.  I might just write the number on the whiteboard too.

When we got home we had a chat about some of the things they talked about at the hospital.  I think both of us think that since we’re so close (literally 10 minutes walk) that we don’t have to worry about traffic or anything, so we should be ok to stay at home if everything is going well for quite a while.   Yes, the hospital is brand new and the rooms are big and spacious, and pretty nice, but its still a hospital with linoleum floors and unnatural lighting and lots of equipment and not much to look at.   I think if we are in first stage of labour for a long time it would be much nicer to be at home if we’re comfortable with that.  We can have whoever we like there, we have our own creature comforts, and there is more to do and look at.   But, who knows.  We may panic in the throws of pain and think its all happening much faster than it is, or be uncomfortable at home, and then just trip on in really early.

Yep, so of course I dreamed about you arriving again last night.  This time it was more focussed on your birth.  I was on all fours on the ground a lot, near a hand-wash basin for some reason, during a lot of the labour.  It was kinda painful but rhythmic.  I remember thinking oh, there it goes again and feeling it just going of its own accord.  Then I was squatting on the side of a chair and you came out, all slimey and red and with a lot of white vernix all over you.  You had blackish hair plastered to your head, but not too much, just some.    Your head was squished and a bit oblong.  And this time you were a boy and I definitely sighted your genitalia.   For some reason when you were born I actually forgot to see if you were a boy or a girl and I remember asking people a few minutes later and they were all surprised I hadn’t worked out or checked that you were a boy already.  I remember just being glad that you were out and you were healthy.

This dream went on and on and on.  I woke up and one point and I’m pretty sure I told your dad about it then went back to sleep and continued on with the same dream.  Until you woke me at 6:30 with some strong stomach pounding.

Going to get non-burnt friands from oven and go for morning tea.

Love you

mum

P.s. Oh yeah, side effect of these iron tablets seem to be even worse gas than I had previously.  I read a bit on the web and there are a bunch of women on forums who say this has happened to them too.  And some of them say the smell is really bad.  I haven’t noticed that yet thankfully, but it means I have to be very careful.  I was like a ticking time bomb during the antenatal classes.  I didn’t make it out of the room a few times and let loose big loud ones.  The tour of the hospital and where to park was a good diversion as we were outside and I could lag behind the group.  But sitting still and watching videos as I felt like I might float out of my chair was trying.  Your dad was peeing himself with laughter and kept telling me to go to the toilet (again, helpful if you know you need to fart but they come on very quickly and are very large and frequent.  So I would be like a yo-you back and forth.  My policy is hold them in and then do it all at once in the toilet).

 

Farts: I am feeling a bit bloated after beer battered fish & mash (couldn't face chips) even though I pulled off most of the batter December 5, 2008

Good evening!

I was planning on studying tonight but after an early dinner at the pub with your Canadian Grandparents and dad I am tired (sound like a recurring theme?), so have bought my ‘puty to bed (you dad has finally stopped calling it ‘your baby’ now that you are around) and have decided to write to you instead. I have had a mashy day – feel like I didn’t accomplish anything at all at work, though I did go, and do remember doing some stuff. I also was supposed to get more blood tests (pincushion that I am) but forgot the forms so didn’t manage to get that done either – will have to go up to the collection place tomorrow morning instead. It was kinda hot, and basically I just felt distracted all day.  A bit like a few weeks ago when I could only concentrate for five minutes at a time.

Anyway. Your dad has a weekend of sightseeing, shopping for the upcoming driving coastal trip to Queensland, and general hanging out with Candian G&G planned; and I have a weekend of study ahead of me. You dad came and had a chat to you tonight, so you should know what is up.   I suspect you felt/heard the 8 rasberries he used to attempt to get through to you.   He promised you that as I was just going to stay at home and study, the most excitement you could look forward to tomorrow was hearing and experiencing the movement within me – ie. another day of awesome loud and large farting. I was a little offended at first, on my and your behalf, but on reflection his synopsis has some merit.

The pregnancy books all talk about constipation as being a side-effect of being pregnant, but I guess I just thought it wouldn’t really affect me.  Being pescetarian, and only really eating fish maybe once every two or three weeks, I generally have a large load of vegetables and all sorts of beans etc in my diet and have never had any problems with movement through my bowel.  Perhaps a little bit TMI for you, but essentially if anything, I am usually more on the flowing and free side of the poo equation.  But, you come along, and all that has changed.  I’m not suffering from the dreaded constipation, but by golly, there is none of the flowing and free going on anymore.  And talk about irregular.  I have read that my whole digestive system will have slowed down because of you – but seriously – i think if it were going any slower we could build bridges with what surely must be the vast quantity of partially digested food which must be in holding pattern down there in my intestines.  And farting.  My entire stomach almost looks like I am pregnant already because of all the gas in there – particular just up under my ribcage – I can push on it and it feels hard and swollen – like a big drum, or an inflated balloon.  And I just can’t stop but fart big, loud and long farts all day long.  I have to repeatedly leave meetings at work to slip to the bathroom and let them out.  I’ve given up at home and just let it all go, much to the disgust of your Canadian Grandma & the mirth of your father.  I am still insisting that they don’t smell at all, just that they are loud and frequent.  In fact, not only am I insistent on this, its a fact.  I can’t smell them, and I as the pregnoid in the house definitely have a heightened sense of smell, so I would know.  So there.  They don’t smell.

Perhaps another take on the whole farting affair is that it is a way for me to stimulate you to do some exercise down there: perhaps you have to wiggle around a bit to avoid the gaseous emissions coursing through the intestines nearby your little abode.  Or I guess I could just blame it all on you and say that it is my body having to feed you and dispose of all your waste that is making such a mess down there.  Whatever the case, your dad is right, the most excitement you can look forward tomorrow is a bunch of gas and noise.  Live it up baby!

Love you & thinking about you.

mum