Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Occupy Veggie Mama: 36 weeks

Psst Stacey... clean your mirror....
It appears we are at the pointy end of this infant-incubating business. The end that features restless legs, pinched nerves, minimal lung capacity, and heartburn fighting fatigue to sit next to me in the playground.

It is only that I just ate something with sugar in it that I have the energy to bring this to you today.

While I know full well the last four (five? six? who knows!) will likely fly by, it feels in this moment like the end is a hundred years away. A hundred exhausting years.

I measured my stomach, which now appears to house an actual baby as opposed to a hoax one, and I am exactly the same size as I was with Abby at 36 weeks - so apparently very normal! Granted, everything's sitting a lot lower, but it's still pretty much average. No head engagement yet, just a hell of a lot of cartwheels (still!), which makes me think there might be a chance this one is slightly smaller than 9lb - there was no way Abby was moving her whole body this much at this stage. I get a few kicks in odd places which makes me squeak, and I know that it's just going to get bigger and stronger and I'll get weaker and weaker, Voldemort-style and soon I'll be wondering if it will kick clear through my skin.

As I was saying on Twitter the other day, it feels like I simultaneously swallowed a struggling wombat while being hit by a truck. The end is nigh, people!

Oh and I have a delightful pinched nerve thingy (not sciatica, to my knowledge) in my groin so my leg often gives way with a twinge beneath me and I half-shriek, half-giggle while lurching around like a maniac. This is especially fun in public places.

And while I'm at it, sleep (when I can get it) sucks. And I'm dreading the thought of how ragged I will be run when little dude arrives and there's two-hour feedings around the clock. My way of dealing with it right now is to ignore that fact until I cannot any longer! Abby still needs me at times in the middle of the night and I have to get into bed with her... this is going to be an interesting juncture in my sleep life. I predict musical beds and a lot of mandatory day-time napping.

I shall continue to waddle my way to the end. 40 week update, here I come!


Thursday, July 26, 2012

Occupy Veggie Mama: 32 weeks


Obligatory bump shot
So lately I've really, really been noticing I'm far more tired than usual. I can't get going in the mornings and I'm ready for bed by about 5.30pm! The thought of being so fatigued for the next eight weeks isn't pleasant, but I'm really trying not to think about it or I may never get out of bed!


LOTS of naps are being taken.

My midwife is still banging on about me looking pale, even though my iron levels appear to be fine, and my fasting diabetes test came back negative. Perhaps she's not aware it's winter? And lately I'm too lazy to wear makeup save a little concealer that's usually worn off by appointment time, so my usual year-round summer glow has taken a back seat to my naturally pale face (thanks 20 years of sunscreen!), my overabundance of gross freckles (thanks genetics!) and two pregnancies' worth of pigment (thanks kids!). 

All appears to be normal, save the fact I'm still measuring a week ahead. Lots of alien-like movement which is crazy to watch. Last time I had an anterior placenta, so didn't see the skin-stretching pokes and kicks and elbows like I do now. Pretty wild stuff!


I attempted to go through all of Abby's old clothes to see what can be salvaged for the new baby. I hardly bought anything before she was born, and once she came out a girl, my sister gave me all her hand-me-downs. Which was A Lot. She was super-excited to have a girl herself, so went slightly nuts in the baby wear department, particularly those things with pink and butterflies and sparkles and goodness knows what else, which aren't really my thing. After posting this picture on instagram, I was getting a lot of "so it's a girl?" comments... I don't know if it's immediately obvious that the only clothes I would have to go through are girl clothes because I've only had a girl, but I thought it was! I'd hardly send out gender-related subliminal messages through a photo-sharing social media network, I'm not that complex.

Speaking of the girl, I'm finding this age of 16 months awful cute. She's not hit the terrible twos yet, so everything is still adorable. Most of the time. She sings a song or tries to tell me a story in gibberish, all earnest face and big eyes and I mentally calculate how many more toddlers I could possibly have. I usually come to the conclusion that 20 seems like a reasonable number. Then I have to give her half my food and realise we'd go broke.

I'm also feeling much more relaxed about the birth, although there's still the chance it'll come time to push and I'll freeze, thanks to my last experience. The idea of labour doesn't bother me at all, it never has, but there's still a niggle in the back of my mind that I'll wig out at the end stage. I'll do some more reading and have lots of support when the time comes, so I'll be ok. It's gonna come out whether I wig out or not, and I may surprise myself so there isn't any point speculating now.

Gosh, eight more weeks. I bet it will feel like eight more minutes.

xx

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Occupy Veggie Mama: 24 weeks

At least, I think it's 24 weeks. I'm going with that.



You know how you try to take a thousand photos, but your mirror's dirty and your face looks lame and your kid is sneaking her head into the shot and you're in a hurry? Well... that. But she was being awfully cute at my feet chatting to the cat. And hey look - there's a bump! Promise that's not pasta this time.

I now officially can't fit into any of my jeans (PS if you have recommendations of good maternity skinnies, let me know!) and my shirts ride up just that annoying little bit. I loathe shopping though, so I'm hoping I can sort something out.

The inside baby is getting stronger and enjoying rolling around and poking me everywhere. We did find out the sex but I'm not telling anyone. I figured it's the last time I'm going to be pregnant so it would be cool to make use of the technology. Also needed to know if I had to completely pack up Abby's baby clothes or just wash them and put them back in the drawers. Given I've not done anything with her clothes at all except grimaced at the pile and hurriedly shut the closet door, I'm not entirely sure that works as an excuse!

Speaking of Abby, she's totally not the outside baby any more. She is becoming an actual toddler. Just today she's started walking greater distances, picking herself up without the aid of anything and choosing walking over crawling a lot more. She's chatting heaps, repeating everything she hears and tries to sing the alphabet, which is possibly the cutest thing I've ever heard. She knows about 20 words, and uses about half of them at the appropriate times, unprompted. I'm absolutely enthralled with watching her learn.

I've been trying to teach her age-appropriate (she's 14 months) independent tasks just so she's a little bit more self-reliant for when the new baby comes. Things like using a spoon, and getting her to come to me when I say her name rather than going to pick her up from ripping all the toilet paper off the roll. I just don't know what I'll be experiencing with the new baby, so the more cohesive we are as a unit, the better for all involved! However she will be 18 months, so I'm expecting a hell of a lot of general 18-month-old behaviour anyway.

I had a little moment the other day when she and I and her dad were all playing in her room and he got up to leave. She crawled after him, stopped, looked back at me, then continued on her way. I got the real sense that it was a profound moment for me - I remember all those years ago learning about attachment, and that a secure attachment manifested itself in a baby confident to leave their mother and explore, knowing that she was always there. I also remember thinking even though I was only 20, I was going to make sure that when I had babies, that's the kind of attachment they had. Twelve years later, I saw that become a reality. It was a really good feeling.

Speaking of feelings, I've been pretty good, with the odd exception of a sporadic but gross emo day. Usually when I'm very tired. Semester ends tomorrow, so I will be cutting back to working one day a week instead of two. Doesn't sound like much, but it's gonna make all the difference in the world, especially now I know how fast time goes and how soon I'm going to be feeling like a whale that's actually fallen out of its transport carrier and is being dragged along the road behind the truck.

Now, if I could just get myself a chef and a masseuse, and possibly someone to clean my bathroom, I'd be in a pretty good spot indeed. I really am taking each day to be grateful for this unique time in my life and to really experience it. I'd just be able to experience it a hell of a lot more if I wasn't scrubbing a shower.

xx

Friday, May 4, 2012

Occupy Veggie Mama: 20 weeks

Holy halfway, Batman!


It has gone so fast. Especially when you consider my last pregnancy felt like it went for 48 years and that was just in the first 20 weeks.

As in the above photo, there seems to be a lack of actual baby-shaped bump. Even in tight clothes, it's just a pasta-and-garlic-bread bump. Hilarious... I was small last time but not this small. And I thought with my fetching lack of stomach muscles, I'd be half-whale size by now, but no. If this means I'm having less than a 9lb 2oz baby, I'M EXCITED!

If not, it just means boy do I have a lot of room behind my ribs.

Still excited though. Just more lowercase.

I was first punched and/or kicked at 17 weeks, and would you believe I was reading about baby's first movements and when to expect them at the time. I felt it move and went "oh! cute!... aw hang on, this has to be coincidence". But no, he/she has been getting stronger every day since that moment and I fully expect them to claw their way out by about 32 weeks. If they are anything like Abby, they'll have me crying with their brute force in no time. Abby was that big and strong that one day she broke my waters just by kicking me.

I'm not feeling as tired and cranky as trimester one, thank goodness. I actually feel quite normal. And in true second-child syndrome fashion, at times I even forget I'm growing one. Quite amusing at times when Abby puts her head on my stomach to go to sleep and is pummelled in the face from the inside. And then I'm all like oh my god. two babies. I'm gonna have two babies.

No cravings yet to speak of, though I notice an increase in my hot chocolate consumption. I'm sleeping incredibly well and terrified of it all being interrupted in a matter of months.

For now I'm going to enjoy this period where I feel like a regular human, because it's going to be over so damn quick and I'm going to be hauling my gut out of bed six times a night to pee and be generally uncomfortable and unable to breathe properly in no time.

And I shall continue to enjoy that look of uncertainty when people see my stomach and want to ask but aren't quite sure. Heh.

PS I'm hanging out on The Hoopla like a big kid today, with one of my favourite recipes. Come visit!

Friday, March 23, 2012

Let's talk about pregnancy hormones, shall we?

source


Oh last time I was lulled into a false sense of security.

Last time, although I didn't enjoy being pregnant all that much, I was incredibly grateful I felt emotionally completely normal.

People would tell me they were screaming banshees at home, bursting into tears at the slightest provocation, berating their boyfriends, harassing their husbands.

Me? I had one crying fit at about 28 weeks when it was hot and it was Christmas and I was stressed and something little was aggravating.

Now? Oh my lord.

Someone telling me they keep getting email meant for me? Cue fury and pointed email back about mistakes and how easy they are to make and for god's sake I'm not harrassing you or unable to give others my correct email address, IT WAS ACCIDENTAL, WHAT ARE YOU GETTING ALL WORKED UP ABOUT?

We've actually had a pleasant back and forth after everybody calmed down... hi Stacey Roberts from NY!

Someone telling me something they already thought I knew but didn't? And writes in that harsh "this is the fact. everybody knows this" way? And I'm all "WELL NO NEED TO BE BITCHY, I WASN'T JUDGING YOUR CHOICES, I WAS CONFUSED AND DIDN'T REALISE EVERYBODY KNEW THESE FACTS BUT ME OH MY GOD". And they're all "oh you didn't know? sorry! here's the story".

But I'm still outside sweeping the floor like a woman demented muttering under her breath and stabbing at cobwebs.

I know this is all hormonal. I am not usually quick to anger, and I rarely see nastiness in things that are easily explained and worked out. The annoying this is it still feels like proper anger and frustration, even though it's irrational. I know it will pass, I know I'm getting worked up over nothing, but I still feel angry, goddammit! And I'm angry that I'm angry all the time! I'm not usually like this. It's exhausting. I'm already tired, I don't have the energy to be annoyed.

Oh and everything makes me tear up. I finally schlep three bags, the baby, water bottle, coffee and supermarket shopping bags into the car, ready to go to work and I realise I've left my phone inside the locked house? Frustration cry.

Taking my kid to the doctor because someone thinks she has an earache, but is really teething and hasn't slept for a week, which means I haven't slept for a week, and then the doctor says she's fine and going outside to start the car only to find that the battery is dead and it's raining and it's the kid's dinner time and my husband is a six-hour drive away? Uh-oh.

The baby doing something so sweet and adorable that I can't stand to look at her? Tissues, please.

I am too tired to be this hormonal for the next six months. Thank god babies are so cool.


Thursday, March 8, 2012

Occupy Veggie Mama: Week 12


I know they say every pregnancy is different, but it's interesting to have them so close together and really be able to compare.

Ha. I say "interesting". More like "exhuasting".

For starters, last time I knew before the strip turned pink that I was pregnant. I could feel changes in my stomach and I was breathless almost straight away. I took what was supposed to be a leisurely ride through a gorgeous park in Vancouver, and slogged away miles behind everyone else, unable to breathe or catch up, or even look like I was remotely enjoying myself while small children and elderly people whizzed past me on either side. Things immediately were different.

And when morning sickness hit bang on 6 weeks, I was rendered useless. I would sleep late, get to work with the barest minimum of self-presentation, slump in my chair for 8 hours moaning and drinking ginger ale, go home, sleep, cook dinner that I wouldn't eat, and go back to bed.

As many of you know, with this pregnancy I didn't even know I was pregnant. Until 8 weeks. Until extreme exhaustion and dizziness sent me to the doctor, who said pretty much: "duh". The only time I had an inkling was the night before my appointment and I was groaning on the couch, wishing I hadn't eaten my bodyweight in mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch. Before bed I ate a piece of toast with vegemite, and as I was eating, I felt better.

I was vaguely reminded of morning sickness, where I ate endless boxes of Cruskits with vegemite because I felt somewhat normal if I ate them constantly.

The next day I bought a box of Cruskits and a pregnancy test.

I don't know whether it's breastfeeding hormones or what, but I just didn't feel any different. In fact, until about last week, I still probably wouldn't know I was pregnant. I think eventually the constant ladies' room breaks and severe lack of appetite would probably have made their way to my fatigue-ridden brain and started to make some connections, but I can't be sure.

It was only last week that my stomach finally went from I-just-had-a-baby-jiggly to I-ate-too-much-pasta-at-lunch. Last pregnancy I had pretty much no traditional symptoms, and no cravings. Nowadays I can smell a soiled nappy and cat food that's been in the bowl just a little too long from three rooms away. I get up and immediately have to sit back down because my vision goes black and my head spins. I pack lunch and when I open it at work, don't want a single thing and end up buying a vegemite sandwich from the cafeteria. I'm rarely seen without a cup of Ginger Snap tea from The Rabbit Hole, although my morning sickness is about one-third of what it was last time.

Things are so different, and it's interesting to compare.

Oh, the thing that's not interesting, and can get lost as far as I'm concerned, is the fact that I've completely skipped the incredibly fabulous coma-like sleep the first trimester brings every night, and gone straight to the last-trimester insomnia where you're awake for two hours at 4am and wondering if you should just get up already because you could never sleep with your stomach rumbling like that anyway.

I don't suppose it'll change much - with two babies 18 months apart, my educated guess is that I won't sleep for at least the next five years anyway. Might as well get used to it!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Quinoa Tabouli - my morning sickness food



I have to say, with my general lack of appetite and many food avoidances, I've really been loving anything cold and kind of sharp. Very much enjoying cold fruit, fruit juice, and anything with vinegar or lemon.

While re-reading You Having a Baby by Dr Oz and Dr Roizen (didn't I just read this a few months ago? sheesh) I came across their recipe for quinoa tabouli. Now I LOVE tabouli, and have recently become a fan of quinoa. The two together sounded exactly like what I needed.

I made a huge bowl and ate it for the next two days straight. In fact, my mouth is watering and I need this desperately, but I'm out of quinoa. Damn. Normally I'm used to a ton of parsely in my tabouli - in fact, the main ingredient. I thought I'd be sad but the balance here is actually quite good.

It apparently makes 7 1/2 cup servings.

Ingredients
1/2 cup bulgur
1/3 cup cold water
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 cup cooked organic quinoa
1  cup diced tomato
1 cup cucumber, unpeeled, seeded, finely diced
1/2 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1/4 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
1/4 cup finely diced red onion
1 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, combine bulgur, water, lemon juice and 2 tablespoons of the olive oil; mix well.

2. Let stand for 30 minutes or until most of the liquid is absorbed.

3. Stir in remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil and remaining ingredients, let stand 10 minutes to allow flavours to develop.


What's in it for you and your baby
Calories: 122  Total fat: 8g  Aging (saturated and trans) fats: 1g  Healthy fats: 7g  Omega-3 fats: 0g
EPA and DHA: 0g  Fibre: 2g  Carbohydrates: 11g  Sugars: 1g  Protein: 2g  Sodium: 165mg  
Potassium: 176mg  Calcium: 24mg  Magnesium: 29mg  Selenium: 1mcg


Drool.



Thursday, January 13, 2011

A Walk Down Vintage Lane - The Ladies Handbook

One of my favourite things to do besides cook is read. And the older the book, the better. My two loves often combine in antique or vintage cookbooks, which provide a lot of joy, but not a lot of recipes (beef tea, anyone?). I adore the old ads, the sensible advice, the ingenious use of staple ingredients, and just, well, the look of these books. So I decided this year to share some of my collection with you as sometimes they're not just pretty, but downright hilarious, too. It's sweet to look back at what mattered most back then - being an able housewife, a competent nursemaid to ill relatives, creating a warm and loving nest for your family, and 100 ways to make jellied salads. Boy did they love their aspic.

Being as I'm 32 weeks pregnant, I decided to begin with The Ladies Handbook, an all-round useful tome for women getting married, raising families, feeding the families, going through 'the change' and being always on the lookout for economical recipes. It's adorable and it has surprisingly useful advice on pregnancy and labour (they assumed you'd be doing it at home) and how to care for your bonny bairn.





This particular issue was printed in 1947, and it's full title is The Ladies' Handbook of Home Treatment: containing the best modern methods for treatment of women's and children's diseases, with a comprehensive index of symptoms.

Thorough.

Anyhoo, one of my favourite features is this cutting-edge-for-its-time "manikin" of the pregnant female body, showing what goes on inside.





Pretty cool, huh?
 
It also has some pretty graphic drawings of scabies and cancer of the breast, but in the interest of keeping your lunch down, we'll leave those to your imagination.

Ah so that's where those birds and bees stories started...

Now, before we go leaping straight for motherhood, everybody in 1947 knew you weren't doing it solo. So the first chapter helpfully describes how to go about getting yourself married to a respectable man who was going to look after you. We are informed that in choosing a partner for life, there were many things to be considered: one should choose a man of high ideals, noble character and a pure life; a man of sound constitution and good heredity. He should be of suitable age, of pleasing disposition, and one's equal, but not one's superior in social position. He should be a young man of proven worth, not flitting from one position to the other and making a success of none. He should have demonstrated his ability to earn a reasonable living and to provide for the necessities and comforts of a family.
Lucky for me I found such a gentleman before I had been informed of such requirements. Only nobody told me I'd also have to start watching rugby league, listen to punk music ad nauseam and be able to drink like a sailor. Added benefits, let's call them.
Only kidding Veggie Dad, you rule.
Once you've been sufficiently wooed and you've embroidered yourself a lifetime of tablecloths, it's time for the biblical sex-talk. You want babies, you understand how plants reproduce first. Then we'll use these euphemisms to describe what goes on between the starched sheets. Seeds, eggs, nests, a baby is really just like a newly-sprouted dahlia. After leading you in gently, it actually provides some legitimate and correctly-termed information about pregnancy and gestation.
Now, we are reminded that the need of maintenance after marriage of the fight against excessive sexual indulgence is incumbent upon all. (No I'm not making this up). It is a natural instinct, as is thirst and hunger, but as we can careen dangerously into gluttony and drunkenness, as can we dive headfirst into sexual gluttony, which we're told is utterly inescusable.
If you are chaste, clean, pure and morally upright, this shall be your reward:
One is advised to get plenty of fresh air and sunshine as a pregnant woman, and eat sensibly. In fact, we are warned against eating too much animal protein, and to focus on fresh fruits, vegetables, beans and grains, as meat was thought to be taxing on the kidneys. What follows is a helpful section on vitamins and minerals, recipes for laxative treatments and advice on what to wear. It's all much the same as what we are told now, except this interesting contraption: the abdominal belt.

Comfortable, yes?

For those who long for the support of the corset in the latter stages of pregnancy. No need to buy one ready-made, just wrap a towel around yourself, sew on some straps and safety pin yourself into abdominal comfort.

What comes next is the pointy end of the business - "the confinement". Again, much the same as what we're told now, except during the pushing stage, one is required to be bedridden, not getting up for any reason whatsoever. And there is a long list of things that need to be boiled and sterilised and that we'll be unconscious by the time baby arrives, thanks to the miracle of modern painkillers, of which we have no choice but to be given. Oh - and it's strict bed rest for two weeks post partum, eventually getting up here and there during the third week, with the baby only brought to you at feeding time, and no visitors.

I am firmly convinced that is is the reason my grandmother had eight children (Catholocism notwithstanding): she was hanging out for those three weeks where everyone would just leave her the hell alone.

um, cute!

We are instructed as to how to choose a nurse, and what sorts of qualifications and personality traits she should have. She should preferably look like this:


Nightmares? never heard of such nonsense.

Care, bathing, feeding (fried foods and pastry are not suitable for young children, here's a recipe for swede turnip juice) and keeping your child free from illness ensues. Puberty, middle age, and the menopause follows, and then is all neatly tied up with descriptions of just about every illness concievable, and some first aid tips. One hell of a comprehensive handbook for a lady indeed. Her and her family's physical and mental welfare are considered and advice helpfully given. Perhaps one of the coolest things in this book is the inscription at the start, a reminder to all:

THEY say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty sceptre
O'er lesser powers that be;
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
-Wm. Ross Wallace.



Now try to stop thinking of Rebecca deMornay...