34 weeks: Tears, fears and pickle spears

These past two weeks have been a roller coaster of pregnancy hormones. Poor Neil. One minute, I'm giddy and laughing, and the next, my face has crumpled up and my cheeks are covered in out-of-the-blue tears, and I find myself wailing, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Because I am. Very sorry. That I am overwhelmed with such emotion uncontrollably. Some of the sob-igniters MIGHT be classified as worthy of at least brimming my eyes with tears. But full-on crying? Good gosh, no. Let's just revisit some of the instances in the past month.

At my shower in Omaha (still no pics of it, Lara... cough cough...), toward the end of opening gifts, I can't remember exactly what spurred the conversation, but something came up about how 30 years from now, something or other would still be cool...or something like that. And my mom who was sitting to my left said, "Not like I care since I'll be dead by then."

I tried to not be affected by that statement. I mean, it's most likely true since the woman IS already a ripe old 61 (hahaha), but hearing her have such a defeatist attitude about her own mortality totally hit my soft spot and I couldn't help but cry.

Then...
One night, as we were going to bed after what had been a particularly long day with lots of back pain and heavy breathing when merely moving, Neil had rubbed my belly and said, "I'm proud of you," and kissed me on my cheek. Very sweet, I know. And apparently, sweetness is conducive to sheer sobbing. I hope it doesn't discourage him from being that sweet again.

Another night in bed... we were both reading our books like we usually do for 20 minutes before we turn out the lights and I looked over at Neil, on his tummy, engrossed in Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut...his eyes moving slowly across the page.... oblivious to my observation... and I lost it. He heard my sniffling and immediately put the book down to inquire what the heck was wrong, assuming someone died in the book I was reading. I explained to him that no, that wasn't it... but what WAS it, was that I was worried these relaxing nights of us just absorbing a good storyline in each other's presence would be over once Dub is here. That this silent bonding would soon be buried under an avalanche of "sleeping shifts" and one of us going to bed way earlier than the other, so the lights would be out when the second one crawls under the covers. I think I'm actually being fairly realistic about that...at least for the first several months. But Neil is convinced I'm blowing this out of proportion, so he tried his best to soothe me. I tried my best to believe him.

Then last week, I had revisited the DAMN YOU, AUTOCORRECT web site thanks to my pal Leigh (if you haven't gone to it, please click on the link) to read the TOP 25 rankings. After reading just four of them, I was on the couch having a solo laugh-fest (not one of my delirious laughing spells, mind you...) Neil was right next to me to witness it all. He kept glancing at me with disdain as I chuckled, belly and all, sometimes loudly.... after all, his beloved weatherman, Gary Lezak, was on the nightly news. Finally, after having enough of my expressions of hilarity, he pushed himself off the couch and stomped off, sighing. I knew he was peeved with me for laughing. And it hurt my feelings. Apparently, a lot. My hearty cackles suddenly changed to silent bawling. I was so ashamed of WHY I was crying, that I didn't even go tell Neil to get him to apologize. I mean, really? He saw my tear-streaked face later...and felt really bad (see, he IS sweet...) and then I cried again that he was understanding about it.

Needless to say....pregnancy hormones are a fierce demon all on their own. And yay! I hear they don't go away for quite some time. Woohoo! haha

And for those who don't know, there has been an update with my back situation. Not a good one, however, but at least some sort of temporary closure, if there is such a thing.

After research and discussing with my medical team (haha)....I am pretty sure what I've been experiencing is the flare up of damage to the intercostal space between my thoracic ribs to the left of my spine, where the tendons/muscles/nerves have been stretched to their max already from scoliosis. With the baby, it's only pulled on these overworked, weak spots even more and that might explain why I can get through 4 to 5 hours in the morning, but when gravity takes it toll, it can't get relief for long enough. Lying down is the answer, as it takes pressure off the pulling.

So I think I said in my last post I had an appointment with a pain management doctor in hopes of getting a cortisone shot. The doc ended up being kinda Dustin Hoffman-like in mannerisms, btw... but after hearing my background, looking at the most recent xray from 10 years ago, and poking along my spine, he shot me straight.  He said, "Hon, here's the deal. The spot where you'd need the localized steroid shot puts you at a tiny risk for a lung puncture. And those are ugly enough for a healthy individual. But since you have a baby relying on your oxygen supply, I quite frankly do not want to risk it, especially because we can't take an xray to see what's going on for sure until after the baby is here."

"So...you're saying...I have to....uh...." {I chanted in my brain: I WILL NOT CRY. I WILL NOT CRY. I WILL NOT CRY.} "Just wait it out and deal with the pain for another 6 or more weeks?"

He nodded.

Eff-balls. I started crying.

He pointed out that he's sure that what I went through at the age of 12 was tremendous and traumatic and probably one of the most serious surgeries I could have gone through. He asked me to recall that pain and the healing process. And then he bluntly said, "Compared to that, don't you think the you of today can get through THIS?"

My turn to nod, though I didn't quite believe in it.

But he's probably right.... I've said over and over, the pain itself is not the worst pain out there. I know this. I don't cry out when it comes on. On my scale...I'm assuming labor is a 10...my surgery was probably a 9... kidney stones etc. are probably a 10 or higher...I would place my back pain as a 3 when it starts and a 7 when it gets so bad I can't function. I think it has gotten up to an 8, but that was after staying upright way past my breaking point.

So when looking at it like that, yes, I can get through this...another 6 weeks of this at least. He told me to give the pain meds another try...to stop being scared of getting addicted or of hurting the baby (he swears he has seen many patients on way stronger drugs than Hydrocodone and taking it in higher doses and way more often, who have healthy kids...so me taking it when I am in pain but unable to lie down will not affect much) and do what I need to do to get through what I need to get through. He said after Dub is here, to come back, and he has several things he'd like to try with me (he admits that he doesn't think the pain will go away right away...but that there are several options for managing the pain until it does vacate....)

So that's the plan. Drug me up for now. ha.

I type a laugh, but really, I'm not thrilled at all. I have had several friends/fam members pep talk me and seriously, I am so thankful so many people care. It's hard enough feeling so helpless and limited, but I can't imagine if those I loved didn't give a damn.

Oddly enough, emotionally, I've been feeling a lot better since that day the door was closed in my face. Because I guess, now I know there isn't hope until after Dub is here. Now I know I just have to suck it up, and call upon the strong 12-year-old that got me through the horrid surgery so long ago..because in comparison, this isn't much. And because I know I am blessed that the pregnancy itself (as in, the baby's wellbeing) has gone smoothly...despite my first trimester nausea...despite the onset of that inflamed lower intestine...and despite this, the exacerbation of a back problem. He'll be worth it. Or so I'm told. haha

No segue needed...let's just switch tracks here..

Our bi-weekly photo.... I am not getting much bigger in terms of the reach of the protuberance, but I'm getting fuller. And rightly so because our lil' Dub Chub is trying to stretch me to my extremes...he is so freaking active! I think he has run out of room.

Here is a video I captured on Dec. 4.... it is not an isolated event, however. It is pretty much nightly that our creature within likes to make strange formations in his mother's belly. I can't wait to show him this someday when he's old enough to understand why he owes me the best mother's day gifts EVER for 10 years. ;)

Lastly--we attended a day-long childbirth class. Neil at first was not too keen on going...dreading the "boring" lessons and the forced participation he assumed waited for him. But, after it was over, he told me he enjoyed it...and he didn't realize how little he knew and how much there was to know. I actually have to agree. I have read countless books/blogs etc about labor and delivery...I have friends and family members who are all too willing to share their anecdotal assessment of their experiences or what they heard someone else went through. Not to mention TLC's BABY STORY (it's like a train wreck...talk about CRYING...I end up transfixed on the pain and emotional arrival of the baby...). But learning the reality of what to expect (as much as you can expect ANYTHING in this process), really calmed me down. There are still a lot of unknowns, but now I feel like I see the choices...the possibilities.

I thought that as soon as I'd feel a contraction (if within the last 2 weeks of the pregnancy), I would high-tail it to the hospital. But no, they urge you to wait and labor at home for a bit until you have 1-minute long contractions, five minutes apart, for one hour. And they gave us some soothing methods to get through the first part of the labor. Neil, I think, now understands the mission that will be bestowed upon him...keep his baby Mama happy and comfortable as much as he can.

A few nights later, we took the NEWBORN CARE class. That I walked into a bit more familiar with because I do have lots of experience babysitting, but it was still good to go over it all (and to have Neil be exposed to it because let's be honest...his cluelessness didn't just stop at the day of birth.) He changed his first diaper (on a doll).... and we tried to learn to swaddle. That was definitely a source of frustration for us...much practice is needed.Too bad Kramer will have none of it.

We have a BREASTFEEDING class next week....another eye-opener, I'm sure. Neil will most likely get to see a boob or something (I've at least told him that to get him there), so I think he's got higher expectations for this one. haha We shall see.

So where am I now with moods? I am actually more excited than I have been...(which, to be honest, isn't saying much as it's taken a lot to get here)... but my curiosity about the features and personality and memories that lie ahead with Dub is so strong lately. We have another ultrasound this Thursday, at which time, I think we'll get a good idea on his estimated weight and possibly if I'm remotely at risk to delivering early. I am looking forward to the moment in this journey when I can be fully pumped for the first real contraction. Right now, I am aware it is too early...and quite frankly, I want to be able to make it to Omaha for Christmas and NOT deliver there because we cannot afford the 40 percent co-insurance. So although the anticipation is very real, very palatable, I know that because it's not quite over the 37 week hump, that anticipation quickly is replaced with fear and trepidation because even though I'd like this back pain to end...I'd like to be comfy at night....I'd like to curl up with my husband in bed without five pillows around me.... I'd like to make it two hours without peeing....I'd like to not be loaning out my body to someone I've never even met (Talk about trust!!!).... the truth is....we're not ready. And I can't wait to be that pregnant woman who IS ready. You know...the woman who posts on Facebook about wanting to evict the inner tenant....who gets cranky with eagerness and the spirit to just "get on with it." Yeah...THAT sounds so fun at this point. And I know, it will be here before we know it, so pain or no pain, I will not wish time away and instead relish the last Christmas with just my love and my cat....the last winter where it truly is calm and on our own clocks...the last turning of the New Year that we don't have to get a babysitter to go out...for a realllllllly long time. ;)

p.s.
I love pickles. But I did even when I'm not pregnant. I'm only writing this because I need to make the post title make sense. :)