Email 5
EMAIL TO: [All in Address Book]
SUBJECT: Pregnancy Update #5
Hello again friends and family!
Well it's getting exciting now, isn't it? Hmm, maybe not. But for me, this is the time when I suddenly remember ... PAIN! A forgotten
realization came to me in the middle of the night not so long ago: "Oh man, NOW I remember! That's the part I didn't ever want to do again! Surely there are other ways of getting this thing out of me ..." The sad fact is, no there's not. Well, one could always take the "knock me out and cut me open" approach, but that has it's drawbacks as well. All I can hope is what everyone says is true: "The second one is easier". It had better be!
This, I'm told, is called 'anxiety'. Yes, perhaps ... with a first baby. With a second, I like to call it "Knowing what is going to happen and, quite frankly, not wanting to do it again". Unfortunately they don't have a chapter on this in any of the pregnancy books I've seen to date. But <sigh>, this is a woman's sacred rite, isn't it, and makes us all the more stronger for it. It's also good ammunition for when male loved ones hurt themselves and whinge, and we can say "Try giving birth! Now shut up and cope with your broken finger!" Makes it all worthwhile.
Let's see what the experts say about Week 30: Maureen the Maestro reckons it's all pretty much the same thing and doesn't really deserve a mention. Fair enough. Super Susan is nagging me about having good posture. I mention my severe lower back pain to my doctor yesterday, who assured me it would "clear itself up in a couple of months". Ha ha, very funny! Super Susan also says the baby is aware of Braxton Hicks contractions while I may not be. Probably because I'm busy noticing other things, like legs in my ribs, pain down my sides while my uterus grows, strange animalistic grunting sounds every time I move and the slow but steady shrinkage of my wardrobe. I would very much like to be a size eight again.
As far as cravings are concerned, I've thus far managed to resist the urge to get up in the middle of the night and eat everything in sight, simply because it's just too cold. Hooray for being pregnant in winter I guess. Hubby ahs finally gotten his act together when a craving strikes, and knows now it's better simply to 'go fetch' rather than stand about and argue with me about how inconvenient it is to get the car out of the garage at 10 pm. It took a while, but it's better late than never I guess.
Our other concern is preparing siblings. Namely getting it OUT of our bed so that there's no jealousy when someone else is suddenly in there or very nearby. Oh, I'm not talking about our daughter - she's been in her own bed for years. It's the cat! The small adopted child who wails at the door when we don't let him in, and who likes to sit on my hair as he thinks it's his real mother or something. I mentioned this potential problem of 'bed transference' to my husband last night, who was a bit reluctant as he likes to use the cat as a hot water bottle of sorts on a chilly night. Could be a bit of training needed all round.
The only other thing that has happened since last time was the dreaded Glucose Test, which is now over and done with thankfully. This basically entails drinking a bottle of lovely green ... well ... goop (for wont of a better word) in record time (no more than five minutes) and then of course sitting around for an hour really wanting to wee but not allowed to. Glorious! Then at the end of it all, they take out a tiny bit of bloody which makes you think "Was that really worth it? Take a bit more for pete's sake, I've been sitting there for an hour!". Another one of the joys of pregnancy.
After reading in a magazine about babies hearing things through the womb and responding, hubby and I thought we'd do a bit of a test one evening (yes, we have no lives):
Bruce Springsteen: two kicks;
Chris Isaak: nothing;
Whale noises with panpipes in the background: lots of wriggling;
Kiss: nothing;
Duke Ellington: a great big somersault and legs stretching this way and that;
Wagner: nothing;
Grease soundtrack: a few fluttery type movements; and
Mark Knopfler: Nothing (but it gave me indigestion).
I have no idea what all this means, of course. The magazine seems to indicate that if they stay still, they like it. So it looks like the kid has pretty much the same taste in music as me and finds "I Was Made For Loving You" very calming. And whales and jazz music irritate him. Fair enough too!
That's it for now!
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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