Aug 3: 25 weeks. Little Fetus Froo Froo is the size of an Acorn Squash. And I am finally home. I will miss performing --it could be a while before I'm on stage again-- but it will be nice not to have to fight the waistline of my Act One costume anymore. Belly be free!
Aug 4: Trying to register for baby things is such a racket. There's just so much! Seventeen webpages of swaddle blankets? It makes me want to throw up.
Or maybe it's just that I'm only taking half a Zophran pill now...
Aug 5: It is unusual for me to sleep this much. I sleep like a boss. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. Everyday, after a full night of sleep, I still sleep for one-two hours everyday. (I know, live it up, right?)
Aug 4: Trying to register for baby things is such a racket. There's just so much! Seventeen webpages of swaddle blankets? It makes me want to throw up.
Or maybe it's just that I'm only taking half a Zophran pill now...
Aug 5: It is unusual for me to sleep this much. I sleep like a boss. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. Everyday, after a full night of sleep, I still sleep for one-two hours everyday. (I know, live it up, right?)
Aug 6: Nauseous again. Now that my performing is over, I am prepared to be sick as I further wean off my anti-nausea pills (midwives' advice). I listen to an BBC recording that states, among other theories, that studies show that babies whose mothers experienced significant morning sickness do better on intelligence tests.
Ah, yes, I've suspected this all along, but now I am certain: I'm going to birth a genius.
Aug 7: Still trying to "complete" registry. Seriously, Babies R Us? That's a lot of fucking pink.
I'm female, and I happen to love pink, but I also love jade green and sunflower yellow and bright red. I realize that my daughter might very well love pink when she is old enough to choose, but until then, she is going to have to suffer the gender confusion of strangers when I tote her around in yellow, green, and anything with colorful polka dots.
I'm female, and I happen to love pink, but I also love jade green and sunflower yellow and bright red. I realize that my daughter might very well love pink when she is old enough to choose, but until then, she is going to have to suffer the gender confusion of strangers when I tote her around in yellow, green, and anything with colorful polka dots.
Aug 8: It's August, but I sleep like a bear in winter. Our baby is due November 16 and people keep remarking that we're going to have a Thanksgiving Day turkey. I don't love the metaphor, (Folks, people eat their Thanksgiving Day turkeys), but based on my napping habits, I do believe my baby has a ten-pound turkey's share of tryptophan.
Aug 9: Here are a few ways that I believe Nature uses my pregnancy to teach me Empathy for what an infant might also experience:
- Constant hunger
- Peeing my pants
- Crying in the night because I can't get comfortable
- Constant nail-trimming
- Trouble pooping
- General uncertainty of what's going on or what's about to happen
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| Moving Left to Right, here is week 15 through week 26. |
Aug. 11: Yesterday we were given a ton of baby clothes from a dear friend whose daughter has outgrown them. Among the sea of pink were two tiny articles the appeared to be underwear for a teddy bear. There is elastic at the legs and the waist. I stared and pondered. The inside is marked "NB," for newborn. I think on this really hard. What newborn wears underwear? They wear diapers, right? I mean, I know I'm new at this, but, I know the difference between underwear and a diaper. One can grab and hold onto pee and poo. The other cannot. I ask Sheffield for his opinion.
SHEFFIELD: "I don't know; none of that underwear makes any sense to me."
We conclude that if you stretch these out, they appear to be able to fit a.) a small bottom and b.) a diaper. I test out the theory by wrapping a large tomato in a dinner napkin and plopping it the tiny undies. So, mystery solved. But, it reality, I expect those little pink bloomers are going straight onto the furry white butt of our Teddy Bear, Alouisious. (He'll hate us for it, but it will make for great pics.)
Some perspective (Yes, the big ones are my "intimates"):
Some perspective (Yes, the big ones are my "intimates"):
Aug. 12: You've been dying to hear how my navel ring is holding up, right? Or rather the piercing itself, right? What kind of horror show is going on at Ginna's navel???
Here's the update:
Tiffany at my local Tattoo-and-Piercing studio cannot get my ten-year-old belly ring out of my belly button skin.
TIFFANY: Maybe your partner could help you? You know, someone stronger?
ME: Yeah. (Small pause.) What about metal cutters?
* I am loathe to admit it, but this is the method that Sheffield and I employed to remove my nose ring a couple months ago. Sure, a slip of his hand and I could have lost an eye, but it was so much cheaper than what the tattoo/piercing studios charge...
While Tiffany cannot "recommend" metal-cutters, the look in her eye says, "Girl, get some metal cutters and get that thing out, or watch as that navel-jewelry is consumed by the flesh of your big-ass baby-belly."
** Take-Home Cocktail Party Trivia: Did you know that the skin-tunnel formed after a piercing heals is called a "fistula?" What a word. I first learned this term while performing Shakespeare's All's Well That Ends Well. It is a fistula from which the King in AWTEW suffers (though it is not specified that the king had any piercings.) During the year that I toured that show, our acting troupe adopted a small toy dinosaur who sat atop the dashboard in one of our actor vans. After some brief discussion, he was named "Fistula."
Aug 13: Hot. Hot feet. Hot dry feet.
I have heard of feet swelling during pregnancy, but that is not from what I suffer.
It's like wearing warm cardboard slippers that won't come off.
Here's what helps: a.) homemade ice pack: half ice, half rubbing alcohol in a plastic baggie and/or b.) a thick layer of foot lotion (that I believe is peppermint scented, but Sheffield argues otherwise) and a fan pointed at the lotion-slathered feet.
Even if you are not pregnant, these suggestions offer a wildly soothing effect on tired feet. You're welcome.
Aug. 14: Now that she can supposedly recognize our voices, I suggest that Sheffield sing to Little Fetus Froo Froo through my belly. He chooses Rocky Raccoon. I wish that we had discussed his choice first, but he dives in, only partially on key. I wearily accept that I will have to hear a lot of this song, but Froo Foo remains unimpressed. Not one to give up, Sheffield continues (he knows damn near all the lyrics.) He pauses to inhale, and when he puts his lips to my belly to resume, Froof delivers a swift kick right at his face. 'At's m'girl!
Aug. 15: Tonight, Sheffield is gone, so I try singing to Bam at night... and she goes crazy! CRAY-CRAY! Seriously, the most movement I've felt from her at one given time. Punching and jumping and what I think is The Wave. She's telling me she likes it!
Or...
"Please shut the hell up! This is worse than that Raccoon guy..."
Aug. 16: Baby is "due" three months from today. We celebrate on the couch by removing my navel-ring with metal cutters. Sheffield snapped it off, I squealed, and Little Fetus Froo Froo dove south to take cover. Everyone is fine. The new "mama belly ring is in." I'll post pictures later, after the gash heals.
Aug. 16: Baby is "due" three months from today. We celebrate on the couch by removing my navel-ring with metal cutters. Sheffield snapped it off, I squealed, and Little Fetus Froo Froo dove south to take cover. Everyone is fine. The new "mama belly ring is in." I'll post pictures later, after the gash heals.
Kidding. You guys, I'm totally kidding! No injuries. If you want to save some cash on body-jewelry removal, my husband is your guy. You might want to take a shot of whiskey first. I wish I had.
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