Week 25

The camera was left on the floor during Christmas by somebody (named Hubs). Now the screen is black with a nice big crack in it. We ordered a replacement screen that I will try to install and hopefully not totally fuck the camera, but until then it’s all guesswork as to what you’re taking a picture of. Combine the broken camera with the fact that I very rarely shower and do my hair and do my makeup AND get in nice clothes all in the same day, and the fact that this baby is number two and is set up for a lifetime of not being documented as well as his older brother, well, I didn’t get a picture until 25 weeks…and not even a very good one at that. I wanted a sideways shot to go next to the one for MM, but they’re all blurry and I look like an idiot. Moving on. Try not to be upset about stupid shit, self.

Anyway, week 25

I’ve been forced to start wearing my nursing bras because my boobs won’t stop growing, and I’m not going to buy more even though they are 2-4 inches too big around. I’ve only gained about 16 lbs this pregnancy as opposed to the holy smokes seventy-five last time. I feel like my belly is about the size it was at the end of my last pregnancy, but that could just be me feeling whaleish.

The other day I had to go into labor and delivery to be monitored for a few hours. I had been having pains in my vagingo that I can only compare to being bayoneted, and then carried around on said bayonet. (Did you know that an old-timey slang term for vagina was “bayonete wound?” oh yes.) I didn’t know if my cervix decided to be incompetent or if I was just being preg-paranoid, or maybe round ligament pain as was suggested when I asked Dr. Twitter, but I decided to call the nurse line. She took all my info at around 8 in the morning, told me she’d talk to the doctor and get back to me.

Hours later I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal if she wasn’t getting back to me quickly, but then 15 minutes after nap-time started she called and told me to go to L&D right then. I had to wake up the poor little toddler after only 15 minutes of sleep, and damn he was asleep. I got his socks and shoes on him while he was still out, and I had to try twice to wake him up. He was very confused, immediately wanted the shit off his feet, and as I was walking downstairs with him telling him that we needed to go to the hospital, he burst into tears and just kept repeating, “back to bed, back to beeeeed!” Finally I calmed him down, told him I was sick and we had to go see a doctor right away to make sure that mommy and little brother are okay. I told him he could bring his blanket friends in the car and sleep in his car seat, but I needed him to be brave and strong. The little trouper accepted it, we picked up Hubs on the way, and went out to the hospital.

It was nothing, of course. Just a weekday hand-up-the-junk. I wish the nurse had said “if you have contractions go now” instead of “OMG GO GO GO” and scaring the everloving shit out of me. I was terrified the whole drive that we were going to lose this baby in the second trimester and I just would not be able to live through that. Our hospital is also 45 minutes away because we chose a doctor further away thinking we’d be moving down there. We didn’t move down there, but the medical care out there is better and I just didn’t want to switch. Whatever.

So, after the monitoring, no contractions, the hand up the junk to make sure everything was competent, we went back home. The boy never did take a nap that day, only went to bed about a half an hour early, and wasn’t a total douche. It was one of those times where you figure your kid can tell that they need to be really good because Mom and Dad can’t take ANY MORE. I was essentially told that I’d have to deal with the awful terrible horrible pain, because yippity-doo that’s pregnancy! So some days I can’t walk very well, some days it’s just a dull ache. Some days it partners with perma-hemorrhoid and it’s just an amusement park of pain in my nethers. Yippity-doo.

But, it’s not like this pregnancy is worse, it’s just different. I didn’t have morning sickness last time, but I’m not having migraines with the same debilitating intensity this time. I didn’t feel like I was skewered with an acid covered rusty nail last time, but…I’m sure something else sucked dick and my hormones won’t allow me to remember it.

It’s fun to talk to MM about “littul brudder.” He finally caught on a couple months ago that we were serious about a baby in mommy’s belly, he likes to jiggle and kiss my belly…but that may be just for fun. He asked me about my changed boobs and nipples the other day when I was in the bath, and I explained how they’ll fill with milk and that is what little brother will eat when he’s a very small baby. He looked at me with a little awe, like I was magical, and a little disbelief, like I was full of shit. He likes to give pretend ultrasounds to everyone, and listen to the baby’s heartbeat in all our tummies. He still hasn’t felt the baby kick, and I doubt he’d hold his hand still enough to catch one, or even understand what it is. He enjoys picking stuff out and putting stuff together for little brudder, and we’ve been introducing a lot of big boy things for him to make him feel special instead of old news. We converted the crib to the toddler bed (also because I was becoming unable to put him in it with my belly) and he’s done great. He fell out once but now he puts a hand on the edge to gauge how much room he has. He’s using “mommydaddy” toothpaste, and getting more opportunity to brush his own teeth, spit, and oooh la la gargle. I force him to do a lot of stuff that’s helping him be more independent, partly because I sometimes just can’t get up, and partly because he needs a little push away from us doing everything. The worrywart still won’t walk up and down the stairs, he crawls them, but I’m not pushing it.

So. That’s where the pregtastic adventures of the Parkingathome family are at.