BITE ME (said the cookie, I complied)

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish...Green Eggs and Ham - what do these things have in common?

If you answered "Dr. Seuss books" you would be WRONG. If you answered a small portion of the list of things I have eaten in the past 24 hours, sadly you would be right. I went to bed hungry, I woke up hungry.

I will not count them when I sleep, I'd rather EAT those yummy sheep.

My baby is hungry. Why else would I eat a bagel for breakfast, two bagels for lunch, followed by half a muffin and two pastries? She clearly needs to carb load for the energy she will need come late January to withstand the delivery process.

I do not want that cream cheese pat, I'd rather scoop it from the vat.

I've been hungry before, but this is my first experience with insatiable hunger. Generally, my pre pregnancy modus operandi was to eat myself sick - usually incapable of stopping myself at full and opting to continue until a staggering discomfort level was reached that could only be relieved by a smoke or two and black coffee (or hard liquor). Because this was my standard, I did not eat three square meals a day, but usually just a late lunch or an early dinner. However, with the exception of the candy addiction, I've been pretty happy with my eating habits and weight gain...until about two weeks ago. That's when the bottom fell out...literally.

I was standing in front of the pantry, leaning on the door, with my hand on my hip gazing at my options for dinner one night. That's when I realized, my hand wasn't on my hip, and it wasn't on my waist, it wasn't my stomach either - it was some new shelf that had developed...was that my ass? Was my butt reaching around the side of my body and was I really currently using it as a means of supporting myself? OMG.

In the past, my ass was last, but now the view is something new

I do not like to see my butt, I do not like it in the front.

Given the newest addition to my body, I was rightfully distraught at Thanksgiving dinner last week. You see, my in-laws eat a formal Thanksgiving dinner - it is delicious and it's always so nice to sit around the dining room table and visit. The problem is, the chair I was designated to sit in was the extra dining room chair, not the chair that matched the table - I had the chair with arms. My husbands family are all tiny (well, in comparison to me), very thin, healthy and basically a 180 from my body type. Before sitting down I mumbled to my husband "switch chairs with me" to which he replied "WHAT??? I CAN'T HEAR YOU." So of course I said never mind and wedged my new front butt into the chair. Dinner was wonderful, and I ate enough for 12, all the while mindful of how I was going to remove myself from the seat when it was time to get up. Luckily the fit wasn't too tight and I was able to hold the chair down while I lifted myself out of it - of course no one else noticed - thank god (well, Chris did eventually and then said "you should have told me to switch...").

I ate so much I did not fit, I did not fit where I should sit.

Birthing Babies 102

I will keep this short and sweet, kind of like part two of our childbirth class which was supposed to go from 9-12, but ended at 10:20.

Yes, I want an epidural. No, I did not need to see the needle. How horrific, why in the hell would you show us that? Has anyone ever said, "Yes, I'm aware you're going to jab what I've heard is a giant needle into my spine...before you do so can I please examine it to guarantee that it is in fact a giant ass needle? Oh good, it's bigger than I thought, that's what I was hoping for." Seriously, I could have done without seeing it.

All of the fathers in the room were given a handout of what they can expect
after the baby arrives. Like all of the other handouts that we had received from this particular class, this was a vintage version - reminding fathers to be patient with new moms as they may not have hot dinner on the table everynight for a few weeks. The nurse giving the class also took a moment to tell all of us ladies to be to sure make dad feel special those first few weeks, take the time to coddle him and maybe do something nice for him like buy tickets to the ball game for him and his buddies....Poor Nurse, she never saw it coming, death by epidural needle. Hence, the early conclusion of class that day.

Register This.

Last week I went to Rite Aid to fill my prescription on my pre natal vitamins. First, I never knew that you needed a prescription for vitamins. Second, my CO-PAY on my pre natal vitamins is $40. FORTY DOLLARS for the co-pay...for vitamins. Last time I was at my Dr. I asked her to write me a script for a generic vitamin, which I could fill at Walmart for $4. Truth, I don't even take the vitamin everyday - I'm not too good at remembering to take pills (obviously); however, I can't make myself buy the generic version. I feel as if surely there is some reason that accounts for that $36 difference and well, I'd be a pretty big ass if I sacrificed the health of my child for $36 (times 9 months, that's $324 - but who's counting)...PAIN AT THE REGISTER

Two weekends ago Chris and I ventured out to the dreaded Babies R Us to create the list of things that we would like to have for the baby. After signing up with the lady at the customer service counter, being given the "gun" and some simple instructions, we were let loose in the great unknown. Where to start? What to get? How much to get? I will spare you the details, but the highlight reel includes me sitting on the floor in the stroller section near tears and unable to get the thing back in the thing that goes on the thing...THE PAIN OF REGISTERING.

I've heard rumors that the health insurance at my company will be changing starting on Feb. 1st 2010. My due date is the very end of January. The new plan will be substantially worse than my current coverage; we're talking thousands of dollars for the hospital bill different. My Dr. has already told me that she won't induce. THE IMPORTANCE OF THE HEALTH CARE DEBATE IS BEGINNING TO REGISTER...

So clearly I've noticed a theme of whether it is the CHA-CHING of the cash register, the laser lights of the registry gun, or the A-HA moments registering in my now half dead brain....I bet this is just the beginning of "REGISTER" pains, isn't it? Daily it's beginning to register that I will probably spend the rest of my life cursing the register.

So...to get back at Rite Aid for their flamboyant prescription costs (hey, I've gotta blame someone, might as well start with them) I decided to take matters into my own hands to get some restitution in this register madness. Some of you may be familiar with Rite Aids rebate program and you may also know that while I like to clip coupons, I rarely ever take the time to plan out my shopping to optimize my cost savings. Well, take the time I did - a few days ago I purchased $34 dollars worth of essentials, armed with my coupons I got the bill down to $14 (Oh yes I did), on top of that I can expect a $5 rebate check in the mail. The lady stared at my incredulously. I told her to suck on it. REGISTER THAT.

Birthin' babies 101

On Saturday morning, Chris and I grabbed two pillows and donned comfy clothes and shoes as instructed by the RN who took our information over the phone when we registered for our two part child birth class. We headed off to the hospital; I was looking forward to getting medical insight as to what I could expect during childbirth, hopefully some pointers on how I could prepare my body physically for the big show, and seeing “THE VIDEO.”

Our comfy clothes consisted of blue jeans, casual shoes and long sleeve knit shirts. There were five other couples in the class, their comfy clothes consisted of jogging pants, hoodies, yoga gear, etc…. I wondered what in the hell we were going to be doing that required workout gear and pillows. Color me intrigued.

After about 30 minutes into the class, we figured out that we were not going to be recieving any kind of meaningful insight into the childbirth process…for instance, the RN showed us a dialation chart – then to really drive the point home about how a cervix dialates, she had us all suck on lifesavers to see how the center gets bigger and the outside gets thinner. Ew. The video that was shown was not the full on camera shot of a live birth, but rather “Childbirth for Dummies” (no joke!) – it used cartoon characters, corny jokes and interviews with couples in an attempt to make the subject matter light hearted. One of the couples in the video, Jeff and Suzy, were really annoying – Jeff discussed in detail when Suzy lost her mucus plug and how they were examining it together to determine if they should go to the hospital. If I ever heard Chris even say the words “mucus plug,” much less request to examine mine, I think I would die. The handouts we were given with lists of what we should pack for the hospital had been photocopied so much over the years, they were barely legible. They were so old that near the top of the list was “sanitary belts.” A baby doll with a make shift umbilical cord and placenta was passed around. The RN asked how many of the men in the room would be cutting the umbilical cord; Chris did not raise his hand. I also noticed that while the video wasn’t showing anything graphic, he didn’t look when Suzy got her epidural, or when she received the incision for her c-section. Are you kidding me? I have to go through the whole process of incubating, growing and delivering a live person and he can’t even look at a video – and he isn’t sure if he would cut the umbilical cord?!! Oh he’ll cut that cord or he’ll leave the hospital room with it wrapped around his neck like a noose. His choice.

So of course being the mature couple that we are – we were probably the oldest couple in the room – we began to act like bored 5th graders in science class. The workbook we had to complete had a question, “please list the discomforts you have experienced during pregnancy:” I wrote “I have this GIANT pain in my ass” with an arrow pointing to Chris. When asked to list what we learned in the class, Chris wrote “Jeff and Suzy are nerds.” And people wonder why I’m so nervous about bringing a child into the world – the two of us are so juvenile ourselves!

Finally, in the last hour of the class, the pillows and comfy clothes were about to be put to use. We were asked to sit on the floor with the pillows propped up behind me. I was told to bend my knees, breathe in and breath out, then breathe in and hold my breath while Chris was told to pinch me on my arm for twenty seconds, then to pinch me harder for an additional ten seconds. This, the RN informed us, was to simulate a contraction. At this point I took a pillow from behind my back, stood up, and whacked the RN upside her head. Ok, so I only imagined that part, but seriously – a pinch to simulate contractions? A lifesaver to demonstrate dialation? (although I did appreciate the candy)

I can’t wait to see what part 2 of this class, scheduled for 11/21, has in store for us. Maybe we’ll spit watermelon seeds across the room to simulate the ease of a baby coming out of my lady parts.

As I'm writing this entry, I'm waiting to get my glucose test at the hospital. Everyone has warned me how horrible the glucose juice is...I liked it! Tasted like liquid candy corn. Some waiting room observations:

There was "that guy" who wanted to chat me up about my pregnancy, and tell me his own personal TLC Baby Story and the “ten pound beast” that got stuck in his wife during labor. SHUT UP YOU FREAK.

There is a baby sitting next to me that looks exactly like a munchichi – from what I can understand she is only a week old! Super cute and weird. I opted against telling the woman how her adorable baby could pass for a munchichi.

Hippy Chicks

I played division 1 college volleyball...I'm not saying this to brag (although I think the years spent doing nothing but running, jumping and otherwise tearing apart my body limb by limb warrant the right to brag should I choose to do so)...I'm mentioning it because there was a lot of damage done to my body during those years. I've been putting off surguries for years, and have learned to live with the chronic pain in my shoulders, knees and hips.

Guys used to come to our games, because lets face it most volleyball players at that level are in really good shape and the uniforms are spandex, but I think they were always surprised with how physically demanding volleyball is. I mean you are throwing yourself full speed onto a hardwood floor, repeatedly, for the duration of 2 hour match. It's basically like football in terms of the full body contact, but instead of diving into a soft pile of a 250lb person filled with water and fat, you're diving into solid wood or in some cases a concrete slab covered with 1 inch of rubber, and oh yeah, you're not wearing pads.

I've run a timed mile in waist deep water in the ocean, because my shin splints were so bad I could barely walk on the pavement, and my coach was that big of an ass.

I did so much jump training that I used to be able to leap jump 4 stairs at a time, the entire height of a stadium, not easy for someone my height with little natural jumping ability. At one point I could do 100+ double jumps with a rope. This required a tremendous amount of physical conditioning.

My nose has been operated on because I have been hit so many times and so hard square in the face.

During halftime at a TU mens basketball game, I had a mini surgury by a doctor in the back of a training room. My leg was drained by giant ass needles due to severe swelling/bruising - I still have permanent indentations on my leg from the needles. They wanted to make sure it was taken care of before the next days practice.

My first year of college, we spent about a half hour everyday diving onto the floor, jumping back up on our feet, saying something sadistic like "no pain, no mercy," then diving again, over and over and over and over and over...lots of puking and bleeding that year.

By the time I finished up at Temple, I was working out for over 4 hours a day, everyday - I could do things I never thought possible. In many ways I am very thankful to have been shown what I am capable of accomplishing when I am pushed to my absolute physical limits (although I now have zero desire to step foot into any type of a gym).

My point in telling you all this, because I do have one, is that I can take pain. Never once did I quit, cry (except maybe at night to my mom) or so much as show any sign of weakness. That was for over four years, over four hours a day, probably somewhere around 320 days a year. We're talking over 5,000 hours of hard core punishment and pain. Knowing that I accomplished those physical feats, provides no comfort for childbirth portion of this nine month ride that will conclude shortly. I am terrified, the thought of what that will be like makes me woozy.

I can feel my hips starting to shift, pulling apart and getting ready for the inevitable, with every little twinge of my hips now, I want to cry, and I think I'm showing more weakness now than I ever have in my entire life. At this very moment, as my hands are typing, my palms are sweating just thinking about it.

We have our first childbirth class this Saturday, they told me to bring two pillows - because, you know, I'm sure pillows make all the f*cking difference in the world in terms of preparing you to push a watermelon out of your body.