Category Archives: Preggo Old World Style Musings

No-Show

Baby Dub is still, as the title of this post indicates, a no-show.

Four days past our due date.

We are now closer to 41 weeks than 40.

And not an inkling of her arrival. She’s stayin’ put.

The good attitude, the brave face that I’d attempted to put on earlier this week has faded and I’m back to being aggravated and a little put out.

I mean, come on, Baby Dub. This does not bode well. Already showing signs of stubbornness and tardiness? Failing to respond to parental pleas? I can only pray these are merely personality traits that are being displayed in utero and that will disappear upon entry to the real world.

I always try to end my posts on a positive note – after all, our daughter will one day be old enough to read, and I don’t want her thinking I bear any resentment toward her (but seriously, come on out already) – so here’s my attempt at a positive note.

I have had an inexplicably easy pregnancy. I sleep at night, I didn’t gain too much weight, I never threw up and have yet to discover a stretch mark (I thought I had found one about a week ago, but that’s a story for another day). I’ve suspected the easiness of my pregnancy might be a precursor to a horrible baby.

You thought this was going to be easy? Think again, sucker! You were blessed with this easy pregnancy because otherwise parenthood would have absolutely destroyed you.

But maybe these 4 days of waiting are my paid-penance for the puke-free, restful pregnancy.

That’s what I’m clinging to, right now. Bring on Day 5.

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The longest days of your life…

…are the days following your due date.

I’m sure this is true whether you’ve actually had the baby or not.

In my case, we are still baby-free, and I gotta tell you, I’m not enjoying the waiting game much.

I’m so grateful for the Hubs, who patiently endures the random mope-fests, the huffing and puffing because “I can’t think of anything to do”, who rubs my pressure points and goes for long walks with me and offers to run to the store to buy evening primrose oil capsules.

I married a good man.

I’ve also gone for more walks in the past week and a half than I can keep track of. I’ve traded our comfy couch for the bounce-ball. I ate an entire jalapeno on Tuesday.

Ladies, these “labor inducing methods” are for the birds. Unless they make you feel better. For me, they’ve all been fruitless. Yes, you can pump your body full of herbs and spicy food and teas and pineapple and castor oil. Whatever makes your skirt fly up (or your stomach twist and turn). You can walk miles on end. But if your baby isn’t ready to come out, he or she is staying put.

Baby Dub is stubborn, living proof.

My parents were here all week, and she couldn’t come on time?

My hubby’s brother and his wife are close this weekend – she couldn’t have made her entrance in time to meet her Aunt & Uncle in non-wrinkly form?

I’ve got to attain a zen-like state about this whole baby arrival thing. I can do nothing to coax her out. Bargaining isn’t working. “Natural labor induction methods” have proven ineffective. She’s going to show when she’s good and ready, and I think if I was less desperate to meet her, I’d probably be pretty proud of her for sticking to her guns right now.

This girl will not cave to peer pressure.

Or parental pressure.

So we continue to wait. And I try to make the most of it.

Baby Dub just better not make a habit of being late. This is frowned upon by the Shiz side of the family.

Past Due Desperation

I never even allowed for the possibility in my mind of going past our due date.

And here we are on July 5th, with no sign of a baby on the horizon.

Already, our daughter is starting to develop bad habits.

OR if I chose to spin this positively, our daughter is “Fashionably Late.”

I had wanted to have her on the 4th of July so very badly. I want to have her on the 5th of July even worse!

The 4th of July was an agony of a day. All day, any twinge, “could this be the start?” Nothing built momentum. We decided to play 9 holes of golf, trying to swing her out. No luck. I watched fireworks from my deck, secretly hoping the loud noises would shock her out.

Nada.

I couldn’t sleep last night for quite some time. Baby Dub seemed to sense my aggravation, because she wiggled and squirmed for several hours while I laid there thinking of all the things I hadn’t gotten finished yet that maybe my body is waiting on.

“We haven’t picked a pediatrician yet. Maybe that’s why.”

“I never finished that mobile. She could be waiting for that to be done.”

“There’s laundry to be done. Perhaps she wants her mom to have clean clothes when she gets home from the hospital.”

At 12:07 am, I realized that we had officially missed our due date. Baby Dub is late.

I cried.

Leave it to the Hubs to put all of this in perspective.

“Baby, really the waiting game should start NOW.”

*sigh*

Argh!! It’s frustrating to be past due. I’ve completed the baby prep. I’ve done my 40 weeks. I should have a baby to show for it. Right?

She’s going to end up with a super brain from all the extra time in the uterus.

“Yes, I had a 10 lb. baby. But most of that is brains.”

I can’t think of anything else. I should be doing things that you can’t do once you have a baby. But all of that stuff is kind of off limits. Can’t go on a quick vacation. Can’t stay out late and get ┬ácocktails with friends (that is strictly prohibited!). BAH! Plus none of that sounds good anyway.

All I want to do is have a baby.

More belly pics

My attempt at craftiness – a homemade, 4th of July belly bouquet

Here's a better shot of the belly!

Hmm, in this picture we look like we are anticipating the future and loving the present… right? Or just posing like Melissa told us to. Whatevs.

I love the bridge shots!

Another good shot of the belly…

Ticking Time Bomb

All last week, I referred to myself as a ticking time bomb.

Whenever I was asked by a client or coworker or stranger on the street how I was feeling, I would respond “Oh you know, like a ticking time bomb.”

My friend pointed out that given my previous post about not wanting to be told I look like I’m “about to pop” maybe referring to myself as a bomb (which explodes) wasn’t consistent. I see her point, but I hold that “pop” implies an accident, something unstable, while “explodes” implies force, intent.

So I’m glad we cleared that up.

But here we are, after the weekend I was SURE that our baby would arrive, and I’m on my way to work and our due date is the day after tomorrow, and I’m at the point where I don’t care whether I pop or explode, I just want to meet our daughter.

Belly Photogs

I always have enjoyed getting my picture taken.

I have to like it, because my mother takes about a thousand pictures every time I see her.

I particularly like getting pictures of myself taken when I’m looking my most svelte. I had a particularly fit Summer 2011, for instance.

I like getting my picture taken less when I’m packing on extra pounds, or wearing B-team attire, or generally looking disheveled. Like in Summer 2012.

So why would I ask my husband for a maternity belly photoshoot as my birthday present? I’ve never weighed this much in my whole entire life, and I’m pregnant from my neck to my knees.

I’ll tell you why.

I may not love how I look pregnant, but I do love that right now, here in my big, jolly belly, is the addition to our family we’ve been dreaming about for the past 9 months. How can we not capture these moments?

I’ve been pretty diligent about taking a weekly photo of the Baby Dub bump, but for my birthday, The Hubs bought me a Belly and Newborn package from a lovely local photographer, Melissa McFadden. We had our pictures taken at Rooks Park, and brought along a few props for the pictures… feast your eyes on a few classics. These are the best pictures ever taken. Ever.

The waning days

What to expect:

Your dreams become much more vivid when you’re pregnant. Particularly in the waning days. Basically all I think about (between “What’s for dinner?” and “What do I need to get done at work?”) is Baby Dub’s arrival, so I have a lot of baby dreams. They vary from mildly disturbing to downright dream-tastic.

You oscillate between totally overwhelmed and totally non-plussed. One moment, I cannot fathom being a parent. I’m not prepared, I’m not equipped, is this really happening? And then 5 seconds later, I can hardly wait for Baby Dub to get here already, so I can find out how prepared and equipped we really are.

Your emotions run a bit wild. Little things you wouldn’t expect, like your 100 pound black lab being particularly gentle with a toddler, make you cry. Huge dramas leave you completely un-phased. It’s like opposite day with your emotions. Just be prepared to not be prepared for what your emotions do in the waning days.

The house is not going to be clean enough. We should have hired a housecleaner a long time ago, because now there’s no chance our house will be “Baby Ready Clean” before she arrives. All my nesting instincts have been isolated to the baby room, where no item is allowed to be out of place and I wash and rewash clothes, sheets, changing table covers, and toys. Meanwhile, the hallway is cluttered with all the crap we moved out of the baby room, we still haven’t put away the carpet cleaner, there are unsorted piles of mail and unfinished crafts on the kitchen table, and our refrigerator is stocked exclusively with condiments.

You realize how great you have it. From the hubs to the ‘rents to the sibs to the in-laws to the workplace, I feel pretty grateful in the waning days for all the people who helped get me through Baking up Baby Dub. Good thing these same peeps will be around for Raising up Baby Dub. I wouldn’t trade ’em for the freakin’ world.

I’m ready for the waning days to finish waning so I can meet Baby Dub.

This I’ll blame on baby brain

The other day, I lost the keys to my car.

I made it to work with them. So somewhere between the parking lot and my office, the keys to the Dubmobile vanished.

I didn’t realize it until the work day was over, and of course, I had to rifle through my 3 month collection of receipts and empty gum wrappers to realize that the keys weren’t in my purse. By 5:20 I was retracing my steps through the office, trying to think of a logical place I would have set my keys down.

There was no logical place.

I had left my keys at the bank.

And banking hours were closed.

I called anyway.

“Hi there, I think I left my keys there this afternoon.”

“Are the keys to a XXXX?”

“YES!”

“Yea, you did leave them here. Some guy found ’em and was like, This looks like a nice car, so somebody’s probably going to want these back.”

“Yea, I want ’em back. I know you’re closed… is there a way I can get those from you so I can drive myself home?”

“Er… yea… you know what, why don’t you walk through the drive through and we can give ’em to you at the window.”

Yes. I walked through the drive through at the bank to get the keys to my car.

And I had to wait behind a couple in a red truck who were making a deposit in order to retrieve my keys. I stood in line at the drive through window at the bank. Pretty sure they don’t really like you doing that. If I was making a deposit I wouldn’t like to see a frazzled pregnant woman in my rear view while I’m handing piles of cash to the teller.

Proud moments.

This is my one use of the “Baby Brain” card.

Fingers crossed the next two weeks go smoothly.

Keeping the name a secret

We’ve been calling our daughter “Baby Dub”. Did you pick up on that?

There are at least two reasons for this:

#1. It’s a freakin’ adorable nickname.

#2. We aren’t telling her real name until she’s born.

I highlight recommend keeping your baby name a secret. Here are at least two good reason for that:

#1. You don’t really need a bunch of stuff with your baby’s name on it, right? Maybe one or two things, but not a whole bunch.

#2. You don’t really want other people’s unsolicited opinions on your choice of baby name.

It’s not that I particularly care what other people have to say about our baby name. Nothing you say is changing my mind, because I’ve wanted to name a daughter this for at least 10 years. Bonus: the Hubs is 100% on board with Baby Dub’s name too, so we don’t even really have to worry about some comment causing a mutiny in the Dub household.

But when you have a baby on the way, there are several conversations you have… over, and over, and over again. The “Are you ready to be done?” conversation. The “How are you feeling?” conversation. Many more that I can’t think of right now because it’s after 9 o’clock and I’m exhausted. I just don’t want to add the baby name conversation to the mix.

As a friend of mine put it: “You kind of get sick of saying the name over and over and over. You don’t want to get tired of your own child’s name!”

I’ve heard of people being talked out of their first choice by the blurted-out opinions of others.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll get made fun of?”

“The only XXX I ever knew was a dog.”

“I went to highschool with a XXX and she was a real b****.”

“Isn’t that a boy’s/girl’s name?”

“No, really, what are you going to name him?”**

**Friends of ours really got this response. People thought their baby name was a joke. What’s wrong with people?!

Avoid all these awkward conversations by just keeping that baby name to yourself.

Once it’s on the birth certificate, it becomes much less acceptable to blurt out your rude/careless opinion.

I think some people take the whole baby name conversation as their opportunity to help shape the name-choosing process. Which is why I’m glad I was never torn between one or two names. All of a sudden, everybody’s casting their vote, and it’s somehow something to take personally if you don’t end up naming the kid THEIR first pick.

I went to a baby shower a few months ago – before I knew we were having a girl – and got cornered by a few attendees who wanted all the scoop on baby names. Having the girl’s name locked down, I kept that to myself, but the boy names were still up for debate, so I threw a few out there.

All of a sudden I’m getting celebrity names thrown at me left, right and center. My two to three “top picks” were twisted, hybrid-ized with other names, added to, shortened, and generally manipulated into an unrecognizable list.

Lesson learned.

Feel free to do this your own way. Some people LOVE to have the baby name conversation. Some people WANT opinions, votes, etc. That’s cool. That’s your right.

But as for me and my hubs… we’ll keep it on the hush.

You’ve got a few more weeks to wait.

Something you shouldn’t say to a pregnant person

I’ve heard this phrase, or variations of it, several times in the past few weeks.

Please.

Don’t ever say this:

“You look like you’re ready to pop!”

Dude. That’s gross.