Yes, I’m still here.

Here.

As in “pregnant” and “not yet delivered”.

It’s fine. Really. This stage - what am I in, the 10th month, 5th trimester or something like that - this stage of the pregnancy is a piece of cake.

Mmmmm, cake.

So, yes, I am still with child and the child is on the inside. He’s comfy. Occasionally, he wakes up at about 11PM and kicks the crap out of me.

Kicks the crap out of me…see that makes me laugh, because I’ve been taking Colace quite regularly now and I must have super anti-Colace powers that I never knew about. Lucky, lucky me. Yup. That’s my superhero name: Pooless Girl! Fighting the never-ending battle against the high cost of toilet paper and my evil arch-enemy, The Prune! Defender of sluggish bowels and protector of those innocent victims forced into attending community events that provide only one Porta Potty for every 600 people.

Heh.

My husband hates potty talk.

I don’t talk this way at home, really. I’m all, “Oh, honey, close the door to the water closet and let’s maintain the mystery, shall we?” Before we had kids, my husband and I never even knew that each other used the bathroom at all other than for adjusting make-up and drying damp socks. Now, my daughters report back to me: “I walked in the bathroom and Daddy stands-up when he pees. That‘s no fair.”

LA-LA-LA-LA-LA! I’M NOT LISTENING!

I talk a lot about alimentary goings-on on this blog, don’t I?

I just don’t have any other outlet.

So to speak.

But let’s face it, things are going to get real earthy around here real fast. Anyone who has ever handled a newborn - or heck, any age child - knows that bodily-function talk just comes with the territory. Even when the territory only weighs 7lbs but can projectile vomit the contents of a 15-minute feeding across the room and into the fish tank. Seconda did something like this when she was about a week old. I nursed her. Burped her. And then she got this tiny, adorably worried look on her face, opened her cupid’s bow mouth and, without any other warning, ejected whole lot of everything with remarkable speed. I mean, a very surprising amount of partially digested breastmillk - like the amount you would expect from a young goat, not a newborn human infant - an enormous geyser of milk came back up and out but…

Where’d it go?

She was dry. My shirt was dry.

It was amazing. As if all that regurgitated stuff had possibly just burned-up on its exit from the Earth’s atmosphere.

I looked. Nothing on the sofa. Nothing on the cat.

Hmmm.

And then I looked at the wall about 6 feet away and there it was, dripping down Jackson Pollock-like. Approximately four gallons of stomach contents. (I know, she only drank about 4 ounces, but it gained mass as it attained velocity.)

I looked at Seconda again.

She seemed as surprised as I was.

“Wow” I told her. “That was pretty…fantastic.”

And she’s been fantastic every since.

Anyway…

I am still pregnant and this child is breech. That would mean that instead of his head upside-down in my crotch with his feet kicking my ribs, he has his head in my lungs and is kneeing my intestines.

Which also means that, unless he flips into the locked-and-loaded position, I get to experience the miracle and empowerment of birth along with the thrill and excited anticipation of major abdominal surgery. And yes, I’ve been trying all the flippy-over tricks: reclining upside-down on an ironing board, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, putting a head-set on my crotch and playing “Get Down Tonight” in an attempt to draw him toward the tantalizing beat of K.C. and The Sunshine Band.

The kid won’t budge.

My OB suggested an external cephalic version - a procedure in which they would try to manually turn the baby from the outside, and which sounded only slightly less uncomfortable than trying to manually rotate my own head 360 degrees - but he also talked about the risks and the fact that final success rate could be as low as 50%. Which means that after spinning my head and my baby, there was a good chance he’d pop back up again anyway.

And I’m guessing that this child would flip back upright because no matter how much he liked the K.C. playing near my cervix, it has to be nothing compared to the enchanting draw of my vocals as I sing along to the newest Christina Aguilera song while driving in my minivan. My pipes are rockin‘, seriously.

Eh-hem.

But I gotta be honest, here. At this point, if someone told me that the baby would be delivered today, but through my ear, I’d pull back my hair and say, “Which one?”

I'm so very ready.

Ready to meet this newest bundle of joy, oh sure.

But equally ready to no longer be balancing a whole lot of uterus on top of my bladder.

I can’t tie my shoes. I can’t bend over. The splaying-knee thing you know about. I can’t run after my kids to catch them by the scruff of the neck and drag them back to the kitchen to finish cleaning-up the Floam explosion.

I’m very, very hungry, but I can only stomach ice cream and watermelon -which doesn’t sound too, too bad as diets go, until I tell you that last week alone, I ate three entire watermelons by myself.

By myself.

No help.

And I could eat another one right now.

The entire thing.

I’m not proud.

Just…hungry.


And even though watermelon contains something like 2 calories per melon, my maternity clothes no longer fit me. Refuse to fit me. Just obstinately refuse to do what they were designed to do.

Oh sure, the common wisdom is to buy maternity clothes in the size you normally wear and that these clothes are designed and altered in some ratio or proportion to fit the parts of you that are still size small, but will also accommodate those parts of you that are size “Whoa.” And honestly, in the mid-trimester, these clothes usually did fit fairly well. My size small maternity jeans gave enough give across my belly and hips, but were slim and fetching through the legs and flared oh-so-stylishly across the tops of my ankle boots.

However, once I hit month seven, even my few pair of medium pants were pulling at the seams.

And now at month 10, my two pair of size large shorts - the ones I almost declined taking from a friend of mine - even those two pair of shorts are groaning like the steel hull of the Titanic on the way down.

My wardrobe currently consists of one very stretchy skirt, flip-flops, a pair of my husband’s boxer shorts, and a table cloth with a hole cut in the middle. But it’s cute, very cute. If nine months ago you would have told me, “You know, you should really add a flannel-backed vinyl PowerPuff Girls table cloth to your wardrobe” I would have blushed, “Naaaawwwww. Go on with ya! Now I know you‘re teasing.”

But, you just never know.

So, anyway…that’s where it all stands right now.

Me: pregnant.

Baby: content.

C- section to be scheduled for sometime during the week of July 31 - August 4, upon which time and afterwards, I’m going to be a bit preoccupied and begging for help (and pain killers) from all sides.

You have two weeks to prepare your cyber-meals.

Upside-down cake and prune casserole should do nicely.

29 comments:

Motherhood Uncensored said...

Good luck on moving that baby. You might try some Coldplay. Seems to get me rolling around everytime.

Hang in there!

Lindsay said...

OH HONEY!!!!!!!!!!!! I remember the "nothing fits" stage... I to lived in huge baggy/stretchy t-shirts and my hubs boxer shorts and some ugly black jersey pants OHHHH as I think back, I prob looked STUCK inthe 80s!
Colace did nothing foe me either... I ended up having to eat Cherries and apple sauce... that will for SURE work!
Not much longer!!!! I am sooo excited for you!

mothergoosemouse said...

That spit-up story had me howling. In a good way.

And Colace didn't do shit for me either.

Wishing you well.

CampHillGirl said...

Jozet, I loved the whole post. That wearing maternity clothes the same size you normally would is a complete falsehood--maybe for the first child, but then forget it. I just gradually worked my way up in sizes until the last month I was pushing out the waistband of some XL shorts some kind soul lent me. Of course my last baby weighed over 11 lbs., and I'm sure you can't fit such a thing (sweet as he was) inside you. And my one baby who was breech did eventually flip himself right. Hope all goes well.

jennster said...

you are now going to birth. *blows birthing dust on you*
talk to you later! LOL

mamatulip said...

God, I sympathyze with you, pooless wonder. I was also fantastic at not pooing.

Colace did jack for me, too. You know what got the ball rolling? Senekot. It's a laxative that my OB told me was fine to take during pregnancy...and take it, I did.

Hang in! (Like you have a choice...)

ThoughtsInsideMyHead said...

They gave me pure mineral oil. I found it quite tasty when dipped into with a Fudgesicle. It didn't work though, and I had to have the dreaded enema anyway. I hope things get moving for you real soon!

Jenny said...

Hailey did the disappearing spit-up thing once. I found it later on the floor in the shape of a goat and it's still there. No matter what I do to try to scrub it out it's there. I think she might be magical.

PS. The very best thing ever for when you're feeling totally 10 months pregnant? Go to the bath store and buy one of those gigantic oversized turkish bathtowels and take a long bath. You'll feel tiny for the first time in months when you're able to wrap the towel easily around your whole body.

©Jac said...

He just loves the sound of your heartbeat!

wordgirl said...

I SO remember this stage of the game and sympathize with you completely. I did have to giggle at your illustration. That's a Wacky Package sticker...oh...how I loved those as a kid. I still love them.

Anonymous said...

What I have heard from many is that breech babies usually turn *just* before they decide to exit - especially later birth order ones - so hopefully this will happen for you!

My Sunny-Side Up kid turned, so take heart...

I don't have any suggestions for helping you get err regular, but if you want the kiddo to get labor started? Either scrub the kitchen floor on your hands and knees with a handtowel (works) or make reservations for a fancy no-refund night out. I bet that works like wearing white pants worked for bringing on periods in our youth....

I hope baby Tertius? Trey? Trio? comes soon and easily :)

seaboard said...

Oh, anonymous was me, sorry!

lildb said...

"if someone told me that the baby would be delivered today, but through my ear, I’d pull back my hair and say, “Which one?”"

this is the sentence that caused me to spray my fancy laptop screen with spit.

and then you had to bring up the tablecloth skirt.

more spit.

I can barely read my own typing, right now.

I will think extremely baby-deliver-ish thoughts in your direction for the next few. I can't wait to hear about your experience, and am so glad you're almost finished with the pregnancy part of this new, divine kidlet.

congratulations in advance, sweet girl. :)

xoxoxoxo

Siuan said...

We just watched a labor movie at my last prenatal group. They said for breech babies one this that can help is putting one leg up on a chair and sort of do a side lunge, not to steep or anything.Only thing is I think that's for when you are actually in labor. But thought I'd pass it along.

THis will be me in 6 months.

boodafli said...

yeah. my peanut was breech, and i also decided that the EV was a big waste of time, as she'd been head up from the 20 week ultrasound. anyway, i went into labor, such as it was, the night before the c/sec. and around 3 am, i had this beast of a pain, that really made it feel like my kidneys were being pressed down into my knee caps. and the next morning, at 7, when i went into the hospital, starving, thirsty, and seriously uncomfortable, they sliced me open and said 'oh look! she turned head down, after all that!' bitches. so, i suggest asking your doc to check position BEFORE they dope you up. because as a PP said, most babies will turn right before hand. or, 4 hours before hand, as it were.

Anonymous said...

Where I come from, children born breech seem to serve a rather superstitious purpose; my father was born breech, and ever since he was old enough to understand what "breech" means, he's been asked for help in relieving people who had fish bones stuck in their throat. I've experienced this myself as a kid, and he was able to rid me of that nasty fishbone by massaging my throat (from the outside, thankfully). Some of my cousins still go to him for help from time to time.

Meanwhile, I've read somewhere that 1 Tbsp virgin coconut oil every night helps some people 'go'. Not sure though if this is okay for during pregnancy.

Anyway, congratulations in advance on your new baby! Take care!

Moobs said...

I could poo for Britain. I'll send you my self-help tape.

R said...

Steel hull? Table cloth? Girlfriend your analogies are side-splitting! You're a..l..m..o..s..t done mama.

Mary-LUE said...

Oh, the heartfelt sympathy that is being sent all the way from So-So Cal to the other side of the country in Pennsylvania. I hope it makes it to you! And I would so make you the best chicken enchiladas ever and bring them to your door. I'd clean your toilets, take out the trash and do a little laundry before heading home. I know you've experienced it all before so you know what a wonderful outcome awaits you. I'll be shooting up some baby-turning, bowel-moving, labor-inducing prayers.

P.S. How you managed to write such an hysterical post at this time of your life, I will never know. Must be some huge amounts of talent in your soul.

Anocat said...

A woman I know had her breech baby turned by acupuncture. Worth a try?

Ano

PSoTD said...

You know, giving birth would have been a big hit at the picnic!

Good luck :)

kaliroz said...

Holy cow, woman! That sounds pretty, well, awful.

Have you tried Rick James or perhaps some Wyclef to get him to turn around?

Oh, and bodily functions? Well, we're poopologists in my household.

Mrs. Chicky said...

Have you tried Earth, Wind and Fire? Perhaps Starland Vocal Band? Just enough for him to come shooting out of your loins screaming "Make it stop! For the love of God, please make it stop!"

Stephanie T. said...

Turn, Stephen Colbert, turn!!!

I also remember that stage when none of your maternity clothes fit. Your down to like one shirt and one pair of shorts and you're soooooooo sick of wearing them.

I LOL at the "Floam explosion." I HATE that stuff!

I really think you need to post a big 'ol belly pic before little Stephen emerges.

Everyone chant with me: "Belly pic, belly pic, belly pic, belly pic!"

lemony said...

The youngest Lemon sat breech until she was 38 weeks old. The pain of her turning herself around was worse than labor and I know, when that child was one minute old, she laughed at me.

I should have known then what we were in for.

Those third babies. OY.

;)

Now. What kind of casserole shall I send?

xoxo

owlhaven said...

Here's a lasagne in a disposable pan to stick in your freezer. Hope that baby comes soon!

And thanks for your thoughtful comment on my Opinion Saturday question

Mary, mom to many

Her Bad Mother said...

I love potty talk. And puke talk. And food talk.

Try red rasberry leaf tea. Not lip-smacking, but worth a try.

Battyjac said...

The last month bites. Royally.

I'm with you on the constipation thing. I was terrified this morning that I was in preterm labor. It hurt, seemed to be coming and going every few minutes, all the symptoms of labor (I'm 24 weeks). I drank water and laid on my left side and worried. I'm out of state from my doctor so I wasn't sure what to do. Then I farted and all was fine. Boy did I feel stupid!

dianeinjapan said...

Do I have any advice for you? Nope. But good news--I've blogrolled you. I know you're feeling much better now. Ha! But seriously, hope that babe flips, and soon. Oh, and you've got me all childhood-nostalgic for my grandparents' daily morning dose of *stewed* prunes. Mmmmmmmm!

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