Pre "D-Day" explosions and contractions

Only 5 more days to go before D-Day and I am forcing myself to relax by distracting myself with house chores. Not entirely sure whether this is a good idea or not, but sitting around just thinking about the Big Day isn't my idea of preparing for Oli's coming.

Men are probably the worst people to ask about signs and symptoms related to birthing.
A photographer friend of mine, also based in Shanghai, told me a very interesting story of how his French wife thought that she had contractions, so they rushed to the hospital late in the evening. Upon arrival at the hospital, the staff gave her a quick check-up, and determined that she was just having an active imagination (rather than being in active labor). She suffered throughout the entire evening having labor contractions, until she couldn't bear the pain any longer and they returned to their local hospital, at which they promptly reported that she has been dilated 10 cm , and within the next hour, was able to give birth naturally to their first son without any medication or further intervention. After this rather interesting story, I asked my (male) friend what the contractions were like, as he sounded like he knew the story and all its details like the back of his hand (as he well should, being the lucky father of their cute son).

Me: ( Looking worried): "What were the contractions like?" 
Friend: (Having barely a moment to catch his breath after the marathon storytelling): "Contractions...well you know how they are like... Contractions!"
Me: (Trying to be polite and trying best to refocus on the emotions of the ordeal they have gone through a year ago): "Ohhh! Yes, of course! I get it! I see..." 

(Awkward silence ensued)

I've been told that contractions feel like "you want to poo". Just the other evening, while watching old reruns of Harry Potter with my husband and mom, I felt this "urge to poo", and a slight wave of panic ensued, sending a ripple effect across the other 2 audience members of the now- not- so interesting HP rerun movie. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "OMG, I think I'm feeling contractions...!"
Husband: "What is it, how do you feel?" ( sounding as if he studied medicine for many years)
Mom: "It's supposed to feel like you want to poo, well do you??"
Me: " I think so... !"
A few moments later...

Ppprrrrrttttt.........! ( a naturally occurring biological gas explosion heard until the next room)

Me: "Oh, it's gone. It was just Oli's gas passing through me..."

Oli is such a convenient excuse :p

My multi-functional belly bump

"Hun, you gotta stop using your stomach as a table."

My husband's words woke me up to my habit of well, doing exactly that. I have been using my belly bump as my dining table, reading table,  nail clippings' temporary repository, an arm rest ... you name it! I especially find it really convenient to place books and food on top. Might as well make my belly bump useful.

Recently, my belly makes for a rather rudimentary but functional entertainment center (changing sides while lying down and seeing how our baby shifts inside, then guessing which part of his body might be jutting out based on the changing protrusions). It mostly feels like there is an alien moving inside of me... sometimes I imagine it to be a baby dinosaur. (You know, like in the movie Jurassic Park. My belly looks exactly like the dinosaur eggs there now.) This kept me entertained for at least a minute before I looked for other, shall we say, modern entertainment options.

"The mysterious nether regions"

What used to be easily visible looks as if it has mysteriously disappeared... I'm referring to the entire area beyond my bump. Suddenly, I need help for even the most basic tasks..such as putting on socks, strapping on my sandals, washing my feet, clipping my toenails, the list goes on. Honestly, I don't even know what color of underwear I have on right now. I had a brief glimpse when I put them on this morning, but that's about it, and my short term memory isn't exactly stellar now with baby Oli eating my brain's battery cells. But no matter, I have a long dressing mirror to help me with that...mirrors are such an amazing invention.

"Three's a crowd"

Last year, we had the pleasure of visiting my aunt Isabel and uncle Alex in Cebu , Philippines. They are both doctors, my aunt is a pediatrician and uncle a renowned kidney and internal organs surgeon from Pennsylvania, currently gone back home to retire. They took us to see a crocodile farm/ zoo nearby, run by another one of my uncle's relatives in Cebu. We had an encounter with the biggest crocodile in the Philippines, said to be over 50 years old and measuring 15 feet in length, said to be the biggest croc in the Philippines and 2nd biggest in the world. More info can be found here: http://www.philstar.com/cebu-lifestyle/2015/02/21/1426064/crocolandia. Here's a photo of the amphibian celebrity:

All this talk about Lapu-lapu has a purpose. My husband has long joked since then that I have him living inside my tummy, as I am often hungry and have a voracious appetite. My stomach growls with a thunderous sound, one that reminds him of the giant croc's growl. Hence, whenever my stomach makes its usual loud sounds, or I eat heartily, we readily attest it to the imaginary croc's presence inside my belly.

Lately, the doctors have found a myoma (non-cancerous cyst) inside me, a phenomenon that affects 60% of women all over the world, nothing to be alarmed about, my doctors reassured me. We have come to accept that it is living side by side with Oli, and to make the situation more amusing we imagine he is using it for his soccer ball practices! Hence, the strong kicks around where it is located.

With Lapu-lapu, the soccer ball, and Oli co-existing in my belly, I wonder if three's a crowd? They certainly do seem to have become good friends during the long 9-month journey. When my husband told me one time, I got to use my abs and give it a work out every now and then, I replied, "What?! You don't think my belly is working hard enough???" Between housing three residents, nourishing and housing our little one, and adding extra functionalities as a table and entertainment center, you'd think my belly might be overworked, don't you?

The New Hormone Excuse

Hormones have always been the most convenient excuse for me for almost everything during my pregnancy. To cite but a few:

- A rabid attack of acne in unusual places? (If there was an acne painter he sure is having fun with my face and back as his canvas!)

- Roller coaster emotions? 

- Feeling (and looking) like a bloated blubber whale? 

- Wanting to sleep 20/7 (an hour each for 3 meals, and an hour to shower)? 

Basically, anything mysterious, or unexplainable, blame it on the hormones. However, recently, as our baby Oliver's growth becomes more obvious, and his movements more discernable, he has become the new "hormone" excuse for a host of things. These outbursts have prompted my husband to label me as becoming more and more "spoiled". I say, it's not me who's spoiled, it's Oli.

- Hungry just after 2 hours of a full meal (after which you swore you couldn't possibly eat another bite), and yet starving and (gently) demanding nourishment after we've unwound and gotten ready for bed? And no ordinary midnight snack will do--(some reheating, slicing, dicing, stacking, mixing required)?  

- Brain farts. Blame it on Oli... he's munching on my brain's battery cells again. 

- Farts. The kind that makes a sound and sometimes brings about olfactory side effects. Whoa! That wasn't me either! That was Oli releasing his tension through my body. Seriously, Oli, what DID you have for breakfast?!?

- Acting like a spoiled brat. Acting like a spoiled brat who's always about to run out of food to eat. Acting like a spoiled brat who's about to run out of food to eat, hence, wanting to demolish anything in the pathway that resembles food, and yet being selective of the best parts (true for fish fillets, lamb chops, chicken and pork cutlets, anything and everything MEAT). An insatiable desire for meat and yoghurt drinks and forbidden sweet drinks. It's not for me, it's for Oli! Save that piece for me, I want that piece, and that too! I don't always finish what my "eyes" order. Ever heard of the phrase, "Eyes bigger than the stomach"? Very true for me pre-pregnancy. Still true now, except not entirely, My stomach is WAY bigger than my eyes. Or any part of my body for that matter. 

You must think I'm a terribly chomp monster. Call me chomp chomp, go ahead, I blame it on Oli. :) 

Backne and the sweetest (not) husband ever

Sometimes, my husband can be quite...blunt.

For example, one of the nasty side effects of my pregnancy is that I have a terrible case of "backne*". I have never had any backne pre-pregnancy, but now they have happily formed little communities and constellations spanning my entire upper back (you'd think that they would at least be considerate enough to grow around my lower back area so as to be more discreet on the occasion that I wear low -back outfits, right???)

I suppose I have to be thankful overall, though, as I never experienced the even nastier side effect of vomiting, nausea or other similar symptoms of pregnancy.

*Backne- My coined word, short for "back acne"

I expressed my gratitude over the fact that my backne was not growing on my face. I then asked,

I: "Hun, if my backne were growing on my face, would you still love me?"

He: "Well, I would perhaps take more time getting to know you better..."

I: "...And if this occurred before we got married, would you still marry me?"

He: "I would find it more difficult to look at your face, and instead focus on your other body parts (looks at my chest)"

He then helpfully added, " if your backne would converge in a much smaller area such as your face, your face would then be a big boil..." (winces)

In times like these, I really feel 100% sure that I married the right man...

Getting creative when in pain and prior to sleeping

There are days when you are bursting with stories and feel especially eloquent. Then, there are those days when you just can't be bothered by something as irrelevant as proper words/ English.

After just the first year together as a married couple, we found a way to make our lives easier (and make speaking more efficient) through coining a few useful daily conversation terminology:

I. On the topic of pinpointing where to massage me, highlighting painful areas (an official medical chart of the back shoulder muscles has been provided below for reference):

Brad Pits: massage of the underarm (arm pit) muscles (or close to it anyway, with shirt on, of course or that would be gross)

Chicken wings: massage of Teres minor (see diagram below)

Ground zero*: pain central

       * Oftentimes, there is not just one ground zero, so this is further subdivided into several         subcategories, conveniently named in bullet points, such as ground 0.1, 0.2, 0.3, and so on and so forth...

Then there are a few more, honestly, I can get quite creative when in pain and duress, but as I usually don't have a notebook beside me at the same time, some crucial keywords have slipped out of my memory bank. I'm sure it will come back to me, it's just like riding a bike, as they all say.

II. On the topic of the bedding landscape:

"P.M. me":  Contrary to popular culture, this does not mean "Private message" me (oh, please... how lame). Instead, it means, "Pillow Mountain" me. As in, (help me) build a mountain of pillows of varying firmness and terrain according to the shape of my body to prepare me for a better sleep.

Now, obviously, this is way too long to explain to my husband every night. So that is where "P.M. me" comes in quite handy.

"De-slut the rabbit"-

My husband bought me a pregnancy pillow during my second trimester (I didn't start using it until towards the end of this semester, but we thought buying early would somehow make more sense as we'd end up buying it eventually anyway).

I chose a cute light pink rabbit print pillow that has little drawings of a girl rabbit going about her daily routine (such as watering the plants, walking her...dog(?!), pushing her baby in a pram, holding a bunch of balloons, you know... usual things that rabbits enjoy doing.

It honestly did look like this at the start, as it was advertised on the shop's online site:

However, after a few weeks of usage, the two "legs", shall we say, refused to stay together, and the fillers moved about in all the wrong places, and thus had to be shaken upside down to get the fillers back to where they should be, and slapped silly to get the two "legs" to close...

Thus, the term, "de-slutting"...

Oh, the things I learned in a very strict all-girls Catholic school upbringing.

On a side note, this is on my wishlist:

You can probably guess where each part of the pregnant woman goes, the photo is quite self-explanatory... As almost every part of my body aches (even parts I didn't know even existed), I would really really love to get a professional massage. Not that my husband's aren't enough, but well... yeah I suppose they aren't...but he did give me an always replenishing, never dwindling supply of "100" free massage coupons from a "hunky" masseuse (Read: him) as one of his gifts last last Christmas...

I find it impossible for any massage therapist to take me on as a client here in Shanghai, even the TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine) doctors who specialize in special care (and who could need more special care than a pregnant woman?) gave me a look that was bordering on "Are you retarded?!?" when I asked to book a session with the TCM masseuse doctor.  In fact, the only time I was able to soothe my aching muscles professionally was when I went to the blind massage parlor next door to our village. And that speaks loads that the only reason I was accepted as a client was because my masseuse was .... visually impaired.

With this bed, I can bypass their lame excuses of not being able to lie flat on my stomach, I mean, hello?!? Isn't this China, the world's factory? Aw come, on! They could make this at a snap of my fingers, for sure. Wouldn't it be awesome if it were available here? :)

I get a kick out of you

That moment when...

Your baby starts kicking 10 kicks a minute continuously every minute for the next 5 minutes after you've just painstakingly counted his kicks for 2 hours (that just ended 5 minutes ago and yielded a mere 14 kicks/flutters/ wave/ some sports action)

I have been wanting to dedicate this song to baby O for awhile, you might have heard of it before...

I dedicate the song "I get a kick out of you" by Ol' blue eyes Frank Sinatra to you, baby O! Hope you like it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSrHvNr8QQQ

Oh, yes, baby O, I get a kick out of you.

Becoming a Baby

My husband usually comes home after a hard day's work with the greeting, "Hey, hun...how did your day go?"

On a good (read: slightly less lethargic) day, my thoughts would usually simultaneously race to hundreds of possibilities to make my answer sound more interesting and exciting...

The (everyday) superhero/heroine:
 "I saved a cat from bring run over."

The productive intellectual: 
" I finally started on the novel I have been planning to write for years, it is showing great promise."

The multilingual expert:
" I have made great progress on my Spanish lessons, having progressed by 2 lessons today."

The perfect wife:
"I cooked 5 dishes for our dinner tonight, did the laundry and ironed your suits, cleaned our apartment, and repaired the living room's broken windows. I can give you a foot massage later."

However, in reality, my answers would revolve around something like this:

The realistic wife:
"It took me an hour to finish my breakfast cereal...but oh, (feeling slightly prouder) I boiled an egg and finished that much sooner!"

His reply: " Good job, hun! Then, what else did you do?"

I try my best to gather my pride and try to make my day sound as productive as I possibly can, with the clever use of punctuation marks and compound sentences:

I add, " I then felt sleepy and slept for an hour to an hour and a half, then had lunch, then slept again for another 2 hours in the afternoon, then had a snack, then watched a TV series online (Usually either the intellectual rampages of Sherlock Holmes or the satirical humor of Family Guy"), had dinner, then tried to start on my blog/ open a book (I got as far as looking at it and bringing it close by my bedside so as to remind me to actually read it) /

Lately, though because of the slowly rising temperature that has signaled the definite arrival of summer in Shanghai, the excitement would reach about this degree:

"I swatted 5 mosquitoes and sent them to meet their ancestors in mosquito heaven"

This is about as exciting as my day gets these days.

Occasionally, my husband and I would visit a flat or two, as we are planning to move and have our own place (or at least not have to share the bathroom), but as luck would have it, rental prices have gone up 35% this year alone... 35%...35! it is, in some places, at par with downtown New York's real estate prices.

After the visit would come the highlight of a hard morning/ afternoon's "work", which is, to replenish our tired bodies (or rather, my husband would correct me if he were beside me reading my entry, MY tired body), with a delightful lunch. It would be either Japanese, Italian, or Chinese. If we had some extra time, we would drop by the import shop to browse, and inevitably, purchase some snacks and milk (imported milk is a staple for expats and a growing number of Chinese people, mainly due to the horrific stories of tainted local milk).

This has led me to realize that, being pregnant allows me to live the same life as a baby, perhaps this is nature's way of preparing the mother-to-be to be in slightly similar shoes as her baby-to be.

Aside from sleeping and eating as often as humanly possible, I am often incapable of doing certain things without the help of my husband, such as, tying my sneakers, scrubbing my toes (basically anything to do with touching my feet), getting up from bed is a struggle--- I basically have to roll over and put a foot down one at a time, thus, at times my husband would help me up by asking me to put my arms around him while he lifts me gently with one hand at my lower back, then steadies himself as I gather my equilibrium back. My husband's coming home with food has never been as joyous an occasion as it is now, especially when I don't have the motivation to walk the 20 minutes it takes me to get to the nearest food place. This is SUCH a huge change from my gung-ho, independent woman attitude with a penchant for multitasking and filling my day's schedule to the brim pre-pregnancy life. These days, I am happy merely to get one thing off my list (if I remember to make one or remember where I have placed it). My memory and motivation to get things done have turned for the worse, it seems.

These two photos sum up how I feel most of these days:

That's right... and if I had a placard on my chest, it would read:

Before a mom gives birth to her baby, she is one herself.

Photo credits: http://www.babble.com/pregnancy/pregnancy-understanding-your-hormones/pinterest.com