Wrong Way

I had a midwife appointment last Friday where I complained about the top of my belly being really sore, just under the ribs on my right side. I figured my baby was kicking me in the same spot over and over. My midwife thought otherwise. She said that's a classic sign of a breech baby.

I went for an ultrasound earlier this afternoon and my baby is pointed the wrong way. Head up, bum straight down. The sore spot is where the baby's head has been pushing up into the top of my uterus.

This is a game changer folks. Breech was not in my plans for a home birth. I really don't want a c-section. That's my worst fear come true.

I'll be seeing the midwives on Friday to see if there's anything that can be done to get this baby to turn around.

Rock'n'Roll Coochie Coo

Jelly & Blondie threw me the BEST shower yesterday!!!  IT WAS AWESOME COVERED IN AWESOME SAUCE!!!

I have to say, my BFFs are beyond amazing. First, they know me. Second, they listen to me. Third, they deliver!

The shower was a rock'n'roll theme and every detail right down to the colour of the cutlery, set to match the colour of the nursery, was PERFECT.

Blondie's living room was decorated in onesies and receiving blankets that she had meticulously ironed on pictures of Elvis, Janis and other rock legends. The food was served in bowls made out of vinyl records that Jelly made herself! There were no lame games like find the poop in the diaper, but one awesome game of guess the famous rock star from their baby picture. And the pièce de résistance, a framed gold record that all the guests signed, under which had a plaque engraved with "Baby Comedian, Release Date Summer 2012, Produced by Paprika and The Comedian".

I cannot put into words how wonderful the afternoon was. And I certainly cannot express how absolutely grateful I am to have such amazing people in my circle of family and friends. They gave my baby literally a TRUCK LOAD of stuff.  Our SUV was packed to the roof. It was and is beyond overwhelming. My kid is set for the first 2 years of its life. Anything I could have ever imagined needing or wanting was so very generously given to me.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that in about 6 weeks, a brand new person will be coming into my life. I guess it's a good thing everyone else has accepted it and gave me all the stuff I will need to take care of the little one. ;)

Showered with Love

My team organized a very lovely shower at work today. I knew they were planning this because they approached me and asked what day I would like to have it. And they know me well enough that they know I don't like surprises. And really, who would ever think surprising a pregnant lady is a good thing?

Although I knew it was coming, I was still surprised with all of the wonderful details they took the time to plan. And I was really surprised with the of people who showed up, there was at least one person from every department across the organization.

My boss, the CIO, lead the festivities. He gave a power point presentation with the results of a poll that was conducted. It was so funny and so totally cute. It had questions like is the baby a boy or girl, will s/he be born with no hair or hair like Elvis, and which Glee character will the baby be most like (answer was Mercedes).

They also presented me with a cake, a wonderful card that was signed by seemingly everyone and a crib bedding set. They also had Elvis playing in the background as we ate and chatted.

I cried when I got back to my desk. The love and support from my team and others in the organization was totally overwhelming. I honestly didn't expect so much love from everyone.

Stigmata

It took 33 weeks, but I now officially have stretch marks on my belly.

And I am super pissed off.

SUPER DUPER IMMENSELY PISSED RIGHT THE FUCK OFF.

I don't know why this has come as such a shock to me. And I don't know why I'm so fucking mad about it. Maybe because it took so long I thought I had escaped them. Or maybe because none of my other friends who have been pregnant along with me didn't get one damned mark, I figured I would be lucky too.

BUT I GOT THEM AND NOW I HATE MYSELF.

I told my husband to divorce me now if he thinks he won't find me attractive after the baby is born. He laughed and said I was beautiful and didn't care if the stretch marks went all the way up to my eyes. I cried and called him a liar and told him I would stab him in the chest and bury him in the backyard if he ever tried to leave me because of my stretch marks.  He can totally leave me for being a crazy bitch, but not for what I look or don't look like.

I know I'm being totally irrational about this. I have three scars on my belly from my appendectomy. I think they are totally rad and I show them off whenever I get the chance. They are my battle scars. They are proof I won against my angry appendix threatening to take my life.

I know I should look at my stretch marks as the proof that I grew a WHOLE PERSON and lived to tell about it. I know I should be proud. I know I shouldn't care if they never fade.

BUT I HATE THEM.

I guess it hate them because it's proof that I'm human.

FUCK.

Proof I've Grown Up

I had lunch today with two of my good friends whom I met in my first year of university back in 1994.  We were party girls for the four years we went to school, and every summer for 10 years after we graduated. We would go up north for an extended weekend and just drink and dance and drink and puke and drink and pass out and drink again. I'm surprised none of us have a) ever been seriously injured during one of our binges and b) required liver transplants.

Since those party days, both of these girls have gotten jobs relocating them to places all over the world. One is a teacher in the UK and the other is a physiotherapist in Haiti. Occasionally the stars align just right and they end up back in Ontario for just long enough to have a few hours together. Today was one of those days.

If you had told me back then that today I would be having lunch with these girls and their kids and that I am in my final trimester of pregnancy, I would have asked you to pass me whatever it was you were drinking because that must be some damn good booze to have a hallucination like that!

But it did happen. And here's the proof.

The whole time I was with them, I was having an out-of-body experience. It's just not possible that we all grew up, got married, got jobs, and got kids. WTF happened to the girls who wore itty bitty dresses to the bar, drank and danced and drank and then didn't remember how they got home?

Now we're girls who talk about pregnancy and the transition to mommy hood and breastfeeding and the best toys for teething and explosive poop. I almost passed out when both of them whipped out their boobs to feed their respective babies. I've seen their boobs before (did I mention how drunk we used to get?) but never with a baby latched on.

This picture is going to blow my mind for a good long time. 

Baby Brain Strikes Again

My husband bought me a brand new carton of lactose free milk yesterday. I opened it up, poured a nice big glass, set the carton down, and left it out all night.  When I discovered it this morning, it was already pretty rancid.

Apparently baby brain gets worse after the baby arrives. I hope I don't ever forget my child on a counter somewhere.

Transition Time

My replacement started today. I spent 8 hours talking and talking and showing and phoning and copying and talking and talking and I feel like I've passed on zero knowledge to her.

I have exactly 8 more days with her and then I'm outta here. I know this won't be enough time to train her.

God bless her soul. I hope she doesn't cry or quit or kill herself.