The First Fart

James & Little Dude: Two monkeys with their tongues out!

I know that many assumptions and conclusions may be drawn from the title of this post, so please allow me a minute to preface with the following facts:

1. My husband has never heard me fart. Though if asked, he will say I have done so in my sleep, but I still feel we shouldn't be held responsible for anything we say or do in our sleep.

2. I have simply never been a gassy person. It's just the fact of the matter. Never been an issue, and I have literally never let one slip out loud in the presence of another human being...accidentally or otherwise.

3. I am so uncomfortable with the thought of being a gassy person, I can't even call it being gassy when I do feel that way. We have a word in our house for it. Airy. There is something more respectable about that. It implies no scent or byproduct. It is simply the normal, biological feeling of having air built up inside. 

With that being said...

I am in my ninth month of pregnancy, and with that comes an enormous amount of new discomforts. One being that the child beast inside of me seems to have hit a growth spurt last month and makes me feel more walrus-like than ever. Huge. Epically. After 30 minutes of walking around Ikea or The Container Store I feel nauseous because of the deep pain in my back, my puffy feet feel like I'm walking on a ridged cobblestone road barefoot, and the little dude's head is constantly pushing down on my bladder, making it absolutely necessary to pee every 30 minutes (if I'm lucky). 

In addition it means everything in my middle section is becoming even more cramped and crowded. So you can imagine how air may get trapped or pushed around as the baby settles in and even more so when he decides it's time to participate in his own little womb aerobics class. 

Which brings me to Target. There I was, walking around the baby section looking for a crib skirt for little dude's basically completed nursery (yay!). When out of nowhere, I hear a noise. A quick, but almost certain fart. Out loud. It scared the hell out of me. I looked around and there was no one to be seen...unless they were hiding in the aisles pointing and laughing at the helpless pregnant lady. Yes it was me. That sound came from me. I could not believe it. I had no idea it was coming, and you'd think I'd have some warning or some control. But no, nothing. No feeling of being...airy. No warning of the impending inevitability of a release. It just happened. And I could do nothing but freeze in panic, for fear another step would lead to an equally horrifying and startling sound. And there I stood, the lady who previously snickered at the two pregnant ladies who farted during our childbirth class, having experienced the same. In a Target. My usual place of comfort. A sanctuary of spending and solice. And yet on this day, it became the place that I first farted out loud. 

I guess more than anything, this is a confession and a request to all of you who maintain the control of your inner workings, to withhold judgement and extend understanding, as we, the mighty pregnant ladies, are being seriously squished inside. 

Less than a month to go!

Come On Down!

A couple of weeks ago, just after James & I had been watching The Price is Right, I received an email announcing a taping of The Price is Right for expectant mothers. Of course, in our post TPIR "we would have won the showcase showdown" high, we were immediately sold on the idea and I reserved two tickets.

This is when my research began. I wanted to know what I was in for. How they selected the contestants? What is the whole taping process like? Based on what I read, they do group interviews with the producer and he selects people that he think would be good for the show, throughout the show, they continue to watch the people they've narrowed it down to, and make selections as the show goes on. I was ready to bring my A-game. Smile, personality, charisma, jokes. Yes, I can do this! I am totally good at first impressions. I'm guessing every lady there felt the same way. 

So our taping was at 1pm on Monday, they ask you to arrive at 8:30am and suggest you get there around 7:00am to guarantee you get a place for the taping. We waited in the outdoor line for about an hour and a half. A couple hundred pregnant women, standing in a line at 7:00am. That is the power of TPIR. We then moved into the first holding area where we received our #s, IDs are checked, name tags are written and pictures are taken. You then move into holding area #2 where you wait for your turn in the group interviews. We eavesdropped on the other group interviews and the producer was fantastic at his job. Made people comfortable, made them laugh, asked questions. It came to our group and he simply went through and asked what we do and then he moved on to the next group. What? Yeah...seemed rather uninterested, it was then that I accepted that I would not have a chance at being chosen. What happened? I smiled, I (attempted) to use my charm. And my husband had even got up at 4am that morning to make me a funny t-shirt to wear. It said "Drew, it's YOUR baby!" Yeah, my husband is pretty awesome. Then I figured, if I look half as tired as I feel, I probably wouldn't have picked me either. Moving on..

We waited in line to check in our cell phones and waited in holding area #3 for another couple of hours. Here they had TVs with episodes of the show and we were able to buy food and snacks. Thank goodness! The downside was that there were only 2 bathroom stalls -- meaning each time one of us pregnant ladies had to pee, we had to wait in line for atleast 15 minutes. Logistically, having all of us there was a bit of a stretch. 

Next we finally got to take our seats in the studio! It was so neat to walk into, very retro, just like on TV. Except so much smaller than I imagined! The camera people are great at what they do because it's like an illusion. The audience section on TV looks much bigger, but it's actually quite small and snug. The stage is also smaller than I had pictured, because in between each game or prize, the set changes and pieces move in and out to make it fit whatever is next. Drew talked to the audience during each break between sets and he's really funny, mostly because he thinks he's funny. Always ends up laughing at his own jokes before he even says them. 

The show was alot of fun, and all of us in the audience received a giveaway worth $300 courtesy of TheBump.com. Got a super cute Adan + Anais swaddle blanket and mum & bub cream, a diaper pail, Gift Cards to Motherhood and Pediped and other goodies. 

All in all, it was fun, but it tested every last ounce of patience, energy, and bladder control that I have. Arriving at 7:00am and getting out of the show around 3:00pm. I'm probably never going to do that again...

The show airs October 25th, in case anyone wants to see it and to search me out in the crowd to see what awkward faces they undoubtably caught me with. I think my boobs were in most of the bidding shots as we were only three rows back behind contestants row. 

Here we go, 35 weeks! Wondering if the child is going to be as much of a beast as we've somehow imagined him to be...this being typed as he simultaneously hiccups on my bladder and kicks my ribs. 

Pregnancy in all it's glory: Stretch Marks

The day has come. The day I thought that I, for whatever reason, would be lucky enough to avoid. That’s right…my first belly stretch marks appeared, seemingly overnight. This was momentous. A swift kick in the butt (or belly even) to reengage me with the reality that I am simply no longer in control. I have spent months rubbing the stretch mark lotions into my belly, TWICE a day! Even so, I must have hit the tipping point where my magic lotions are no longer more powerful than the growth of the childbeast inside of me.

And so it happened, I looked in the mirror and saw it, three little lines on the underside of my belly. I panicked, my husband laughed, my mom reassured me, and I became a ridiculous picture of anxiety. There is no turning back now, 10 more weeks until our due date, and I am surely going to keep on expanding.

Ode to my belly of past: 

Oh smooth belly, how I will miss you. You served us well, and the sacrifices you are now making will never be forgotten or taken for granted. You have carried a child who has tested your strength and elasticity. You have been kicked from the inside, stretched out, and your belly button is no longer hidden but revealed to the world. I thank you for setting your pride aside, and for hanging in there for 30 weeks as we, together, have grown. Be strong in this final stretch, we are almost there. I promise you one day, I will again do sit ups, eat wisely, and return you to near-original condition. Thank you. 

End of ode.

I’m sorry you had to witness that. I blame it on the hormones. 

And i'll have you know, those weren't my first stretch marks, just my first belly ones. Where else have I, as a pregnant woman, grown so much as to have experienced stretch marks? My boobs. That’s right, they were the first thing to grow and become an anatomical miracle. The stretch marks appeared before I knew what was happening and the magic lotions simply came to late. They are now the signs of my true womanhood, yes each and every stretch marks a day, week, or month that has passed where my boobs have continued to grow. A reminder of what is to come and what I have been through. My war stories even. And still, I look to the end and cannot wait for our medal of honor to arrive, the little dude that will somehow find his way out of my you-know-what and make all of the stretch marks, sickness, and hormones worth it.

Complaints these are not, realizations they are.

1. I am no longer in control of my body

2. Some pretty unexplainable things are happening and it still freaks me out

3. A baby will, very soon, be moving from my insides to the outside

4. I cant sweat the small stuff, but I can cry over it

5. The stomach growls and grumbles are not my child speaking to me

                   

This is what keeps me going.