Contractions are still intermittent and while not strictly painless, not strictly progressing either.
I'm staying close to home, but I think it will be a while yet before we head to the hospital. Bags are packed. I have heard tell of women being in early labor for days, so I'm trying not to get too excited while still remaining on high alert.
Things worked out pretty well with our hospital situation - I'll be delivering at Arcadia Methodist Hospital, which is only 5 short minutes from my Grandma's house. She and my Grandfather (when he was alive) have spent many combined months there receiving treatment for all manner of ailments that oft accompany the privilege of longevity. So I am well-familiar with its pastel corridors and high quality of care.
But by far the best part about it is it is five minutes away from Grandma's house. If we want to be close to the hospital as labor progresses, we will go Grandma's and I will sit in the hot tub. When we're ready to head to L&D, we will be scant moments away from the campus. And best of all, my immediate family will have a close, comfortable place to park it that is not Arcadia Methodist. This thrills me to no end, because I don't want them there.
I think I might have hurt Mom's feelings a little bit when I told her in the nicest possible way that I am only interested in having the Fatherbeast present during delivery. Grandma is almost 90 years old and should stay at home until it's time to visit. My uncle and father (both step- and bio- divisions) could really give a fig what goes down as long as Nova and I are safe and healthy. Mom wants to be there though - and it's tough to disappoint her.
There are some concrete reasons for wanting privacy: I don't want to worry about anything except the process at hand. If I am wondering whether they are tired or hungry or bored or afraid for us, this will be distracting. I don't want to be concerned about being cordial. If I am in A Lot of Fucking Pain, I don't want to be a Brave Little Toaster so as to spare my mother the anguish of watching her own child experience such discomfort. And I don't want any pictures until after the fact.
But mostly I am looking forward to sharing this experience with the Fatherbeast alone. The circumstances surrounding Nova's conception were unconventional and tumultuous. The Fatherbeast and I met in person for the first time 363 days ago. The decision to keep her was not automatic, and neither was the decision to raise her together.
It's true that we are a part of a tightly woven community of loving, supportive and generous people. The joys and benefits of this are apparent even to casual observers who might not understand some of our customs. There are drawbacks, however. And when people are Very Concerned about your wellbeing, and want to Pull Together As A Community to Support You, it can be difficult to get them to Mind Their Fucking Business.
We have enjoyed as much judgment as support, and entertained as many probing inquisitions as we have genuine offers of help. We have been assisted, and adored and doted upon. We have also been frustrated, and even shocked by what people have said about us - to each other and to our faces. This is what it's like to be part of a solid community that really cares about you and knows you intimately. People want The Best for you, and can't wait to share what they think that looks like.
At a point in our chronology when most couples would be traveling, greeting the sunrise with martinis and dancing to loud music, we are doing shit like deciding whether we want to use cloth or disposable diapers. It's about as fun as it sounds. All of this while we are both experiencing profound physical and hormonal changes. All of this while we are getting to know each other, negotiating what we want from our relationships, from our partners, from our lives.
I have come to know The Fatherbeast more intimately and more thoroughly than anyone else who has been in my world for such a short duration. We have had to fast track communication skills that people develop over years of intimacy, not months. It has been challenging, and also gratifying. I am proud of him. I am proud of us. I feel that we are cultivating our energies correctly.
We know that we have the support of our chosen and biological family, and we appreciate it. We will rely on it in coming weeks and years. But the most difficult challenges of creating and holding space for this baby have been undertaken by me and her dad. When we meet our daughter, nobody else needs to be there. Nobody else should be there. We brought her here. She belongs to us. We belong to her. The process of becoming a whole new entity and the moments immediately before and after have nothing to do with anybody but the three of us.
Yes Mom. You can visit first. When we're ready.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
38 weeks, 3 days
Again: if the shape, attitude and consistency of my ladyparts is not something you want to read about, perhaps I can direct you here.
I'm pretty sure I've been losing my mucous plug in pieces over the past week or so. As of last night, however, I began to see some spotting. Is the bloody show on the road?
All last night and this morning, intermittent and occasionally painful contractions. At the moment, nothing. I'm just very tired.
I'm pretty sure I've been losing my mucous plug in pieces over the past week or so. As of last night, however, I began to see some spotting. Is the bloody show on the road?
All last night and this morning, intermittent and occasionally painful contractions. At the moment, nothing. I'm just very tired.
Friday, January 21, 2011
37 weeks, 5 days
The Fatherbeast and I took a lovely walk around The Devil's Punchbowl today - two fault lines converging into a canyon of jagged cliffs and waterfalls and pointy point yucca plants. It was nice to get out of the city, and get something that resembled exercise.
Just in case, I threw my packed hospital bag into the back seat with me. Unfortunately, no need.
Come out already! It's nice out here! We have nature..! And boobies! YOU'LL LOVE IT.
Just in case, I threw my packed hospital bag into the back seat with me. Unfortunately, no need.
Come out already! It's nice out here! We have nature..! And boobies! YOU'LL LOVE IT.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Early, but not too early.
What is happening to me, physically?
Well at 36 weeks, Ms. Thang weighed in at an estimated 6 lbs, 2 oz. She's much closer to 7 lbs now, and what's new is how solid she feels.
At the first quickening flutters, back when she was mango sized, the little darling felt like a butterfly or a pinball. She flipped upside down fairly early in the game - her feet are on my right side and have been for about 10 weeks. At first, it was novel feeling her work out her squats and deadlifts on my ribcage. Occasionally a shinbone would emerge and then just as smoothly recede into the evolving surface of my abdomen. I compared the sensation to a tiny person adjusting herself in a hammock (my pelvic floor, of course, is the hammock)
As time wore on and she grew in heft and girth, the nudges took on more force. "It's kind of like being kneaded by a kitty, except from the inside." I'd explain to people who would ask. The lump of shinbone (or heel, or whatever) took on the quality of a goiter - sticking out at an odd angle sometimes for a quarter hour at a time, until she decided to cross her legs the other way.
Now, in the Final Hours, we are like two strangers handcuffed together. Two particles with like charge trying to occupy the same space. 170 lbs of bone and guts in a 140 lb bag. Yes, there are gas and fluid exchanges, and endocrine cascades taking place. But the primary conversation now taking place between her body and mine is far less complicated:
"Scoot over."
"No, YOU scoot over."
"No, YOU."
"OW. Quit it."
"Why don't you turn on your other side?"
"Why don't you just COME OUT?"
Which is really what this is all about, isn't it? Around the 8 month mark, the amniotic fluid levels begin to decrease, buoyancy is impacted, Braxton-Hicks contractions ramp up in earnest, and I'm sure the internal climate is kind of like that moment when you realize that you've exhausted the hot water in the heater and your previously warm and comfortable bath is rapidly achieving room temperature.
I had been enjoying bouts of energy - not enough to want to stay at work, mind you, but enough to pull my house together. Now that I have taken leave, my days are strangely absent any structure. Historically, I do not thrive under these circumstances. I need to Go Places, and Do Things, and I suck at working from home. But I figured the impending baby and the nesting instinct would focus my drive somehow. Not so much. I'm tired. I'm ginormous. The Nesting Urge left me bereft today. And after all of the weird calisthenics of Tuesday, Ms. Thang is now strangely quiet. My womb itself is still. I'd had meager but real hopes for an early arrival. Now I'm just big and exhausted and endlessly fucking pregnant.
At least I don't have stretch marks. And my bag is mostly packed. And I have 1 week worth of meals in the freezer now. Again, absent the urge to cook or clean or alphabetize I felt compelled to stock up on the healthiest prepared Trader Joe's fare I could find. Which isn't so bad, really.
Well at 36 weeks, Ms. Thang weighed in at an estimated 6 lbs, 2 oz. She's much closer to 7 lbs now, and what's new is how solid she feels.
At the first quickening flutters, back when she was mango sized, the little darling felt like a butterfly or a pinball. She flipped upside down fairly early in the game - her feet are on my right side and have been for about 10 weeks. At first, it was novel feeling her work out her squats and deadlifts on my ribcage. Occasionally a shinbone would emerge and then just as smoothly recede into the evolving surface of my abdomen. I compared the sensation to a tiny person adjusting herself in a hammock (my pelvic floor, of course, is the hammock)
As time wore on and she grew in heft and girth, the nudges took on more force. "It's kind of like being kneaded by a kitty, except from the inside." I'd explain to people who would ask. The lump of shinbone (or heel, or whatever) took on the quality of a goiter - sticking out at an odd angle sometimes for a quarter hour at a time, until she decided to cross her legs the other way.
Now, in the Final Hours, we are like two strangers handcuffed together. Two particles with like charge trying to occupy the same space. 170 lbs of bone and guts in a 140 lb bag. Yes, there are gas and fluid exchanges, and endocrine cascades taking place. But the primary conversation now taking place between her body and mine is far less complicated:
"Scoot over."
"No, YOU scoot over."
"No, YOU."
"OW. Quit it."
"Why don't you turn on your other side?"
"Why don't you just COME OUT?"
Which is really what this is all about, isn't it? Around the 8 month mark, the amniotic fluid levels begin to decrease, buoyancy is impacted, Braxton-Hicks contractions ramp up in earnest, and I'm sure the internal climate is kind of like that moment when you realize that you've exhausted the hot water in the heater and your previously warm and comfortable bath is rapidly achieving room temperature.
I had been enjoying bouts of energy - not enough to want to stay at work, mind you, but enough to pull my house together. Now that I have taken leave, my days are strangely absent any structure. Historically, I do not thrive under these circumstances. I need to Go Places, and Do Things, and I suck at working from home. But I figured the impending baby and the nesting instinct would focus my drive somehow. Not so much. I'm tired. I'm ginormous. The Nesting Urge left me bereft today. And after all of the weird calisthenics of Tuesday, Ms. Thang is now strangely quiet. My womb itself is still. I'd had meager but real hopes for an early arrival. Now I'm just big and exhausted and endlessly fucking pregnant.
At least I don't have stretch marks. And my bag is mostly packed. And I have 1 week worth of meals in the freezer now. Again, absent the urge to cook or clean or alphabetize I felt compelled to stock up on the healthiest prepared Trader Joe's fare I could find. Which isn't so bad, really.
37 weeks, 4 days
I read frequently about insomnia at this stage of the game. Related generally to the inability to get comfortable, and getting up five times a night to pee.
I can't sleep, because now I'm all wired.. Yet I lack the physical verve to do constructive things, like pack my bag or do my dishes. So here I sit, in bed, blogging under mounds of cats.
They must sense that something is up. They have never been so focused on obtaining my affection before. Soon this lap will be occupied, kitties. What then?
I can't sleep, because now I'm all wired.. Yet I lack the physical verve to do constructive things, like pack my bag or do my dishes. So here I sit, in bed, blogging under mounds of cats.
They must sense that something is up. They have never been so focused on obtaining my affection before. Soon this lap will be occupied, kitties. What then?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Such a baby!
I know, listen to me whine about getting only 4 paltry hours of sleep last night
Ah ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha. Yeah.
It would be so easy to succumb to crankiness right now. I'm gigantic and exhausted and the real work hasn't even started yet.
Ah ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha. Yeah.
It would be so easy to succumb to crankiness right now. I'm gigantic and exhausted and the real work hasn't even started yet.
Hello, Maternity Leave!
Warning: if you are not interested in reading clinical descriptions of the shape, attitude and consistency of my Lady Parts, move right along.
Last night I experienced some new and interesting sensations. Not contractions in the Braxton Hicks sense, where everything clenches and then relaxes. But kind of a pulsating throb, consistent, lasting for about 2 hours. The best way I could describe the sensation would be "like an orgasm but without the fun." This, accompanied by serious fetal acrobatics. It was only occasionally painful, and then only mildly so. No blood. If I had not already been scheduled for my 37 wk appointment in the morning I would probably have called my doctor because nothing like this is described in even the most precious and paranoid prenatal pamphlets. It all took place between 0100 and 0300 hrs - and let me tellya, was I ever AWAKE.
By the Doctor's surmise, what I experienced was normal - The Bean engaging her head in my pelvis. Ah so. "See? Her heartbeat is all the way down here now."
A quick exam yielded new and interesting information - I am 50% effaced and 3 cm dilated. Basically, I could go into labor at any time. Dr. C recommended an earlier leave than anticipated, and that's fine by me.
"I'll see you next week, if you're still pregnant." She said.
Last night I experienced some new and interesting sensations. Not contractions in the Braxton Hicks sense, where everything clenches and then relaxes. But kind of a pulsating throb, consistent, lasting for about 2 hours. The best way I could describe the sensation would be "like an orgasm but without the fun." This, accompanied by serious fetal acrobatics. It was only occasionally painful, and then only mildly so. No blood. If I had not already been scheduled for my 37 wk appointment in the morning I would probably have called my doctor because nothing like this is described in even the most precious and paranoid prenatal pamphlets. It all took place between 0100 and 0300 hrs - and let me tellya, was I ever AWAKE.
By the Doctor's surmise, what I experienced was normal - The Bean engaging her head in my pelvis. Ah so. "See? Her heartbeat is all the way down here now."
A quick exam yielded new and interesting information - I am 50% effaced and 3 cm dilated. Basically, I could go into labor at any time. Dr. C recommended an earlier leave than anticipated, and that's fine by me.
"I'll see you next week, if you're still pregnant." She said.
Monday, January 17, 2011
37 weeks, 1 day
It's hard not to be a little unnerved by the sudden quiet. She was so rambunctious just a week ago, but now it seems my bean is running out of room. There are still squirms and nudges, but what used to be a dojo is now more like a straitjacket. Occasionally a limb will transverse the equator of my belly. But overall the atmosphere is still.
I am becoming more anxious by the day - about the birth process, about things that could go wrong. I am haunted by tragic stories I read - about women who lose their babies unexpectedly due to umbilical cord mishaps, about stillbirth and SIDS and long, complicated labors resulting in distress and palsies.
I'm also anxious in more positive ways, though. I put together our fancy new Bugaboo Cameleon (a luxury vehicle, to be sure) and have been washing all of the tiny (tiny, tiny) little outfits and blankets and towels and toys we have acquired for her. I am attempting to visualize a future consistent with all reports - that it will be amazing, and that it will be exhausting. A future where I am realistically tired and short of time. Perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised. But in the meantime I'm bracing myself for what will certainly be a challenge, and maximizing leisurely time with loved ones.
Speaking of, The Fatherbeast is in nesting mode as well. Consistent with both folklore and science, dad is busy building new parts of the house as quickly as I can clean them. The patio has transformed into a welcoming oasis replete with fire pit, seating, dining area and grill. The nursery now contains a Romanesque lounge of futons suitable for kids and grownups. The kitchen actually has more than 4 cubic feet of work surface now!
The perfect way to inaugurate all of this splendor? A potluck feast with dear friends, of course. Last night was a little open house - We filled The Nest with old and new friends, played games and ate delicious food. With all of the hectic planning and lingering fears in my new-mom brain, this simple socialization felt unspeakably luxuriant. I'm looking forward to more such gatherings - with luck Nova will be the kind of baby who can comfortably pass out at a train station, music festival or house party. With our lifestyle she might not have a choice.
I have heard many times from many well-meaning souls how much our lives will change. And I don't doubt that this is the case. However, The Fatherbeast and I are fortunate to move in a fascinating, dynamic, creative and decadent circle of friends. There are some aspects of my existence that aren't available for modification, and anyone attached to my person will simply have to adapt.
Our people are like big children themselves (you know who you are): artists, circus clowns, mad scientists, rock stars. Half the fun of having a kid, for me, is knowing that she will become the smallest new member of a community of Seriously Weird People. I can't wait to see the woman she will become, having been raised in a village such as ours. So, of course some things will change. But some things absolutely will not. I like to think that karmically, Nova knew what she was getting into when she chose us. We're not just fun - we treat fun like it's a job.
I am becoming more anxious by the day - about the birth process, about things that could go wrong. I am haunted by tragic stories I read - about women who lose their babies unexpectedly due to umbilical cord mishaps, about stillbirth and SIDS and long, complicated labors resulting in distress and palsies.
I'm also anxious in more positive ways, though. I put together our fancy new Bugaboo Cameleon (a luxury vehicle, to be sure) and have been washing all of the tiny (tiny, tiny) little outfits and blankets and towels and toys we have acquired for her. I am attempting to visualize a future consistent with all reports - that it will be amazing, and that it will be exhausting. A future where I am realistically tired and short of time. Perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised. But in the meantime I'm bracing myself for what will certainly be a challenge, and maximizing leisurely time with loved ones.
Speaking of, The Fatherbeast is in nesting mode as well. Consistent with both folklore and science, dad is busy building new parts of the house as quickly as I can clean them. The patio has transformed into a welcoming oasis replete with fire pit, seating, dining area and grill. The nursery now contains a Romanesque lounge of futons suitable for kids and grownups. The kitchen actually has more than 4 cubic feet of work surface now!
The perfect way to inaugurate all of this splendor? A potluck feast with dear friends, of course. Last night was a little open house - We filled The Nest with old and new friends, played games and ate delicious food. With all of the hectic planning and lingering fears in my new-mom brain, this simple socialization felt unspeakably luxuriant. I'm looking forward to more such gatherings - with luck Nova will be the kind of baby who can comfortably pass out at a train station, music festival or house party. With our lifestyle she might not have a choice.
I have heard many times from many well-meaning souls how much our lives will change. And I don't doubt that this is the case. However, The Fatherbeast and I are fortunate to move in a fascinating, dynamic, creative and decadent circle of friends. There are some aspects of my existence that aren't available for modification, and anyone attached to my person will simply have to adapt.
Our people are like big children themselves (you know who you are): artists, circus clowns, mad scientists, rock stars. Half the fun of having a kid, for me, is knowing that she will become the smallest new member of a community of Seriously Weird People. I can't wait to see the woman she will become, having been raised in a village such as ours. So, of course some things will change. But some things absolutely will not. I like to think that karmically, Nova knew what she was getting into when she chose us. We're not just fun - we treat fun like it's a job.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
37 weeks
Ding!
This baby is baked.
37 weeks is considered "term" - meaning that if I were to go into labor today, Beanface would not be considered premature, her organ systems would be fully developed, and she would most likely go home with us right away.
40 weeks is "full term," however - most babies arrive during the 40th week of gestation. And as a first time mother, the odds are higher that she will arrive more than a week after my due date.
I expected that I would be relatively able-bodied until my due date, that getting around would be challenging but not prohibitive, and that I could reasonably work until I went into labor. Which was rosy thinking indeed. If I had known earlier what this last month would be like, I would have started my maternity leave on the first of the year.
As it is, I have a very flexible employer and have reduced my hours to almost half. I will take my leave on the first of February. And while I truly do want Dr. Von Beanington to enjoy every last moment of gestational comfort necessary for her to thrive on the outside, if she decides to show up early I won't be disappointed.
I am SO ready to have my body back. Yesterday was one of our Summer/Winter days (to clarify - here in LA we generally enjoy week or two during Jan/Feb of full-on beach weather: 80 degrees, sunny, light breezes, mild evenings). Did I go outside and bask in the sunlight? Did I enjoy some moderate exercise? NO. I slept and ate like it was my job. For the moment, it still is.
This baby is baked.
37 weeks is considered "term" - meaning that if I were to go into labor today, Beanface would not be considered premature, her organ systems would be fully developed, and she would most likely go home with us right away.
40 weeks is "full term," however - most babies arrive during the 40th week of gestation. And as a first time mother, the odds are higher that she will arrive more than a week after my due date.
I expected that I would be relatively able-bodied until my due date, that getting around would be challenging but not prohibitive, and that I could reasonably work until I went into labor. Which was rosy thinking indeed. If I had known earlier what this last month would be like, I would have started my maternity leave on the first of the year.
As it is, I have a very flexible employer and have reduced my hours to almost half. I will take my leave on the first of February. And while I truly do want Dr. Von Beanington to enjoy every last moment of gestational comfort necessary for her to thrive on the outside, if she decides to show up early I won't be disappointed.
I am SO ready to have my body back. Yesterday was one of our Summer/Winter days (to clarify - here in LA we generally enjoy week or two during Jan/Feb of full-on beach weather: 80 degrees, sunny, light breezes, mild evenings). Did I go outside and bask in the sunlight? Did I enjoy some moderate exercise? NO. I slept and ate like it was my job. For the moment, it still is.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
36 weeks, 3 days
Today I visited Arcadia Methodist Hospital, where I plan to deliver The Bean, aka Little Miss Beanface, aka Professor Von Beanington, aka Nova.
I wish I could say I had good pictures to show you. The ultrasound process is always fascinating, but the "snapshots" our doc sent us home with are... not unintelligible. Just un-cute. Good news though - she weighs 6 lbs, 2 oz as of today. Big Bean!
I had always figured that I would deliver at home. But the more I learn about potential complications to the process, the happier I am to be delivering in a hospital. Yes, I understand that many complications are iatrogenic, and that interventions may cascade.
But I am also aware that sometimes doing things "naturally" doesn't always mean you come away with a baby that is healthy. "Naturally" doesn't always mean that you come away with a baby, for that matter.
Given how vividly I can imagine things going south (as a biologist, it is kind of my job) I realize I will probably be more comfortable in a clinical setting with the machine that goes "ping!" than I would be in a birthing center with candles. Because I know that in a hospital setting, even if my labor goes HORRIBLY AWRY and (god forbid) they cut me open needlessly, chances are Nova will be fine. In a birthing center or at home, however, if something goes wrong I'd have to get myself to a hospital somehow, and who knows how long that would take? I have read the outcomes for home births and with competent midwifery transfers don't happen all too often. But the possibility that something might go wrong without ready emergency care makes me more uptight than the sterile bustling of a hospital. Sterility is reassuring.
Which doesn't mean that I'm totally impressed with the way business-as-usual progresses in my hospital. My birth plan will include provisions that are strictly contrary to some of their policies. For example, I will be taking fluids by mouth, not intravenously. I also plan to snack during labor if I become famished. Because it's LABOR. I do not plan to be a jerk about it - rather, I plan to sneak protein shakes in my bag. And those stirrups? I don't anticipate needing those. But thanks.
We did visit the NICU briefly on our tour. Behind the double plated window there was the tiniest little dude - he must have been 4 lbs or so, bright red, 12 inches long. In an incubator, being tended to by a nurse in blue gloves. Amazing to see.
I'm excited!
I wish I could say I had good pictures to show you. The ultrasound process is always fascinating, but the "snapshots" our doc sent us home with are... not unintelligible. Just un-cute. Good news though - she weighs 6 lbs, 2 oz as of today. Big Bean!
I had always figured that I would deliver at home. But the more I learn about potential complications to the process, the happier I am to be delivering in a hospital. Yes, I understand that many complications are iatrogenic, and that interventions may cascade.
But I am also aware that sometimes doing things "naturally" doesn't always mean you come away with a baby that is healthy. "Naturally" doesn't always mean that you come away with a baby, for that matter.
Given how vividly I can imagine things going south (as a biologist, it is kind of my job) I realize I will probably be more comfortable in a clinical setting with the machine that goes "ping!" than I would be in a birthing center with candles. Because I know that in a hospital setting, even if my labor goes HORRIBLY AWRY and (god forbid) they cut me open needlessly, chances are Nova will be fine. In a birthing center or at home, however, if something goes wrong I'd have to get myself to a hospital somehow, and who knows how long that would take? I have read the outcomes for home births and with competent midwifery transfers don't happen all too often. But the possibility that something might go wrong without ready emergency care makes me more uptight than the sterile bustling of a hospital. Sterility is reassuring.
Which doesn't mean that I'm totally impressed with the way business-as-usual progresses in my hospital. My birth plan will include provisions that are strictly contrary to some of their policies. For example, I will be taking fluids by mouth, not intravenously. I also plan to snack during labor if I become famished. Because it's LABOR. I do not plan to be a jerk about it - rather, I plan to sneak protein shakes in my bag. And those stirrups? I don't anticipate needing those. But thanks.
We did visit the NICU briefly on our tour. Behind the double plated window there was the tiniest little dude - he must have been 4 lbs or so, bright red, 12 inches long. In an incubator, being tended to by a nurse in blue gloves. Amazing to see.
I'm excited!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
So... the food issue.
It's kind of appalling, what I've been eating.
Yesterday lunch was two scoops of Baskin Robbins ice cream in a waffle cone.
Macaroni and cheese. Entire pizzas from Trader Joe's. Candy. Noodles. I'm allowing myself to be steered by the symbiote - baby gets what baby wants unequivocally (until she's on the outside), and already our tastes are wildly different.
Now I'm ready to think about eating clean again. Everything I've read overwhelmingly suggests that food should be prepared in advance and stashed in the freezer for the first critical weeks when I'll be sleep deprived and unable to accomplish even the smallest household tasks. So, I'm approaching this like Burning Man - freeze your goulash flat! Heat and serve during sunrise, after you've been awake for 30 hours and you're maybe still kind of hallucinating. Eat while standing, possibly naked, almost certainly spattered with substances you can't identify.
Suggestions? Here's the rules:
*Wheat free
*High fat and protein to carbohydrate ratio - for instance, a curry that can be served over 1/2 c of rice, instead of a risotto that is basically rice with stuff in it.
*Cheap is good. We like cheap.
*Meat ok, but not required.
It doesn't have to be gourmet, and the easier to assemble the better. Your thoughts?
Edit: Recommendations for snacks and fingerfoods are welcome too! Not so huge on powerbars etc. Better ideas?
Yesterday lunch was two scoops of Baskin Robbins ice cream in a waffle cone.
Macaroni and cheese. Entire pizzas from Trader Joe's. Candy. Noodles. I'm allowing myself to be steered by the symbiote - baby gets what baby wants unequivocally (until she's on the outside), and already our tastes are wildly different.
Now I'm ready to think about eating clean again. Everything I've read overwhelmingly suggests that food should be prepared in advance and stashed in the freezer for the first critical weeks when I'll be sleep deprived and unable to accomplish even the smallest household tasks. So, I'm approaching this like Burning Man - freeze your goulash flat! Heat and serve during sunrise, after you've been awake for 30 hours and you're maybe still kind of hallucinating. Eat while standing, possibly naked, almost certainly spattered with substances you can't identify.
Suggestions? Here's the rules:
*Wheat free
*High fat and protein to carbohydrate ratio - for instance, a curry that can be served over 1/2 c of rice, instead of a risotto that is basically rice with stuff in it.
*Cheap is good. We like cheap.
*Meat ok, but not required.
It doesn't have to be gourmet, and the easier to assemble the better. Your thoughts?
Edit: Recommendations for snacks and fingerfoods are welcome too! Not so huge on powerbars etc. Better ideas?
Monday, January 10, 2011
My abs - a retrospective.
Here I am 6 months prior to becoming pregnant. Not my skinniest, but close. I'm 127 lbs, 36-24-35, probably 14-15 percent body fat. I know, right?(Thanks to Paynie for the shot.)
And here I am in sunny, scenic Calexico. This photo is precisely 2 mo prior to conception, taken by the FatherBeast himself. I'm probably 132-ish, 36-25-37.
Before I got knocked up, I was in the middle of a strength training regimen in anticipation of a long triathlon season. It was springtime, and I was planning to do the Catalina Tri on Nov. 6 of last year. I was biking and running plenty, but I was also focused on building the muscle that would drive me through training. So I was a bit heavier (for me), and not super lean. Here I am probably 137, 37-26-38, 16% body fat. If not for the shades you could see the twinkle in my eye.
Here I am at 6 months. I think I weigh around 155 lbs.
And here I am today, with less than a month until my due date. I weigh 170 lbs. 39 inches around my hips, 43 inches in the bust; waist is kind of irrelevant as this kid is coming out sooner than later. When I started I was a size 2. Immediately postpartum I will probably be a size 8 (if I shop at The GAP). I have continued to use my calipers to approximate body fat measurements, but it's difficult to pinch around the abdomen (duh). However, I estimate that immediately postpartum I will be around 23%.I am grateful that I spent so much time laying down all that muscle, figuring I would burn it off. I didn't quite - I just stopped working out. The period immediately following the discovery of my pregnancy was the most stressful and hectic time in my life - ever. I lost a job then started a new job, my beloved patriarch died, I traveled to a war zone, and then I moved. I think I went to the gym a total of three times - twice at FOB Fenty in Jalalabad, Afghanistan. So when I do get my act back together, I will only be starting from zero - not less than zero.
36 weeks, 1 day
Just getting started here. I'll be using this blog to document the last bits of pregnancy, (possibly) labor and birth, and the process of pulling my body back together as a new mom.
There are plenty of parenting blogs out there, but overwhelmingly reports of postpartum fitness and happiness to be found on the web are uninspiring. Some are downright scary. For a sampling, check out The Shape of a Mother.
Prior to becoming pregnant, I was at the peak of my personal fitness. I was training for a triathlon, eating very well, and taking the first steps towards becoming a trainer. Then everything changed. I'm thankful to have started with such a base of strength and fitness, because I haven't been near a gym in about 7 months. But I'm looking quite forward to returning.
I'm trying not to be overly optimistic - my available time for myself will be reduced. I'll be tired. Parts of me will be in different places and used for different things. But I'm confident that I can bounce. This blog will document the process.
And yes, of course, there will be adorable baby pictures.
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