What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting

I’m sporting this summer’s hottest anatomical feature. Thalves! When your thighs attack your calves, kind of like cankles — only higher up.

I had a growth scan today — we’re technically 34w3d, but measuring roughly 35w3d. BeeGee has lots of hair (mostly on her head, thank goodness) and weighs approximately 2.5 kilo (give or take 300 grams) or 5.5 pounds. She is still head down and in a great position for delivery. The tech also checked her umbilical arteries and all looks good. She has enough room to grow a bit more and there’s no indication of any early arrivals — which is great, because, to sound like a jerk, I have way too much work to do between now and then.

Afterward, I had the world’s shortest doctor appointment (roughly 90 seconds) to check my blood pressure (”Perfect!”), get another prescription for iron (”You’re taking them everyday, right?” “Uh huh. Yeah.”) and be told that everything looks good.

Back to the good doctor in two weeks!

Two! Count’em two posts today! Don’t forget to check out my lame update below!

This, however, is a must read.

I am a bad blogger. After receiving a couple comments and a few emails asking me if I had fallen off the face of the earth, I thought it was only right to post some sort of update.

If only there were something to update! My life is very boring, and for once, I kind of like it that way.

I’m still here. Still preggers. Chugging along nicely at 34 and some odd weeks. I get a little bigger everyday, but for the most part, I’m still able to do all the things I need to do.

I have gotten permission to work the remainder of the pregnancy from home, mostly in an attempt to prevent cankles. At home I can keep my footsies up and take a nap here and there as needed. By 9 a.m. or so here it’s about 85-90 degrees outside, so chilling at home in the A/C has been a real boon for me.

I went golfing on Tuesday (okay, not a proper round but a couple hours at the driving range, chipping area and putting green). Despite a little soreness in my shoulders (which likely has much more to do with having not golfed in a year and less to do with pregnancy), I’m no worse for wear. It was great to get out of the house and do something vaguely athletic. The hardest part was putting the ball on the tee each time. You get some really great looks when you’re rather rotund and insist on carrying your own bag of clubs around.

I had the pleasure of welcoming another blogger to Israel last week. ProjGen made aliyah to our little town of Modiin, Israel, and it’s been great fun to help out where we can. It’s amazing how much difference a year makes.

In our free time, we’ve been trying to prepare for the upheaval that is bringing home a newborn. The nursery is finished and I’ll try and get it together enough to post a photo soon. All the baby gear is assembled and in working order. The kitties have already laid claim to the pack and play and the crib, while the dog is quite fond of the rug in the baby’s room. We have a name picked out. And I’m registered at Hadassah Ein Kerem in Jerusalem. All of her laundry, blankets and diapers have been laundered and are ready to go.

I have yet to pack a bag. Tips welcome. Part of the problem is that I fit into relatively few pieces of clothing right now, so I’m reluctant to stow any of them away. I might stuff some toiletries and a couple magazines in a bag soon though.

I have an appointment and growth scan next Monday, when I’ll be 35 weeks. To the best of my knowledge, I’m not having any contractions (Braxton Hicks or otherwise) and I’m guzzling the water to keep early labor at bay. I try to be good about taking my iron pills. And most nights, I’m still able to get a good night’s sleep.

Let’s hope it stays this easy to the very end. Given how badly things started, this is so much more than I could have ever hoped for.

Edited to add: I suck at math and am on codeine. I meant just under two kilo or roughly four pounds.

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday - 31 weeks and counting. Although four weeks seemed like an inordinately long time to go between appointments, the time really flew by. Here’s to hoping the next few weeks go as easily.

In a nutshell, everything is fine. My glucose test was perfect. All my other blood work is fine, but I have to keep taking my iron pills through the remainder of the pregnancy. My extremities show no signs of edema. My blood pressure went up a bit (100/65), which is a good thing given how low it was (90/50). And the baby appears to have ample fluid to play around in.

The doc did a quick scan and said the baby is already head down and a bit lower than usual – she hasn’t dropped, per se, but he said she probably would drop a bit earlier than usual. She has an “unusual presentation” since her spine is facing my left side. He said he thinks this is because the placenta is attached on my right side toward the front.

All of this is a good thing; he said it’s unlikely she will shift much from this position before delivery, which means we have one less thing to worry about (aka – even less likely than in normal pregnancies that we will have to contend with a breech). She’s a healthy good-sized girl and is quickly running out of space to do acrobatics. He estimates that she weighs just under two kilos, or roughly 4 pounds.

He also said I might consider sleeping on my right side if she kicks too much when I’m on my left. Since she’s facing up when I’m on my left side, that gives her the most room to fuss about. This explains the creepy crawly feelings I have on my right side. He said giving her a little squish by sleeping on my right side might actually lull her to sleep.

I go back in a month for a growth scan and another check up.

Other than that, very little to report. I’m feeling really good. I never thought I’d be able to do some of the things I’m doing this late into the pregnancy. I walked to my doctor’s appointment yesterday at 4 - it’s about a mile walk and it was in the 80s here yesterday. I took a big bottle of water and drank most of it, but I’m still able to get around and feel no worse for wear. Given that we don’t have a car, it’s been a real boon for me.

Topping the list of things I would never let my daughter have…

Heelarious: Her first high heels

Not even if she asks nicely. Not even if she masters language at three months just to beg.

Especially since that would mean she got her first pair before I did. I’m more of a crocs - tevas - uggs kinda girl myself, depending on the season.

In other news, 30 weeks.

Have had bronchitis for three weeks now. Also pee a little when I cough too hard. Not a good combination. I never thought seven months pregnant would find me relying on maxi pads.

this is a test to see if I can post a photo

So, depending on whom you ask, the third trimester either began two weeks ago or now. I was thinking all along that it began today until a book enlightened me (which is an amusing way of thinking about it since nothing on me is getting lighter right now). I can honestly say that something changed in my body about two weeks ago. I feel less graceful everyday, but amazingly, I still feel really healthy. Please God, let it continue.

This is part three of a three-part series. It seems simultaneously very far away and very soon.

Because I am somewhat exhausted and a little sick (bronchitis), I’m going to keep this short and give you a rundown of what’s happened lately.

I passed my glucose tolerance test with flying colors, which was really a nice treat. Since then, there have been many other nice treats, mostly in the form of pastries. I have gained four pounds in the last two weeks, putting me at 15 pounds under my prepregnancy weight. I may not reach my starting point, but it will not be for lack of buttery goodness.

I failed my iron test. So now I’m taking whole big bunches of iron every day. Yum. On the other hand, I will save time by never having to poo again. I am still trying to understand the logistics of when to drink milk and when to take the iron, since one blocks the other and they both wreak havoc on folic acid (of which I am now taking absurdly large quantities).

I have bronchitis. Which is way better than pneumonia, which is what everyone at work thought I had. They scared me into seeing a doctor. He said I could have antibiotics but that would probably lead to a yeast infection. I’m supposed to call in three days if it doesn’t go away or go back if it gets worse. I passed on the antibiotics for the time being because I would rather have a sore, itchy throat than a sore, itchy … well. You know what I mean.

By the end of the second trimester, I managed to gain 11 pounds, all of which are apparently in my breasts and belly.

In what will be the baby’s room, we have a fully assembled Pack and Play, baby swing and stroller and car seat. I put the teddy bear in the swing just for laughs. The cats have already laid claim to the pack and play. I’m crocheting a blanket to match the colors (sort of match) of the baby gear.

I think it’s too early for nesting, but I do have an insatiable urge to drill new holes in the walls to hang art, photos, etc. and another to spackle over the offending holes left by the former tenants. I also need to paint over the areas where we killed mosquitos on the walls and hang curtains everywhere. I cannot fathom how we survived this long without curtains - oh, the shame.

So that’s all for now. I have pretty much reached the event horizon of the blogosphere and don’t know when I’ll get back to everyone’s blogs. In my free time, I worked 210 hours in May and am helping five families plan their immigration to Israel this summer (it seems like just last week it was us).

Oh and the conversion and the wedding. Still trying to plan for that too.

But for now, off to bed.

We’re down in double-digit range. Shock and awe people, shock and awe. Not so much because there might be a baby living in this apartment soon, but because of all of the things that might happen between now and then.

We have an appointment in June with a rabbi who is part of the Chief Rabbinate for Israel to discuss the Orthodox conversion issues. In a nutshell, if we can convert prior to BeeGee’s arrival, then BeeGee is born a Jew and it’s all hunky dory. It’s harder if it doesn’t go that way, but I’m keeping my hopes up.

If we do get approved for a super-speedy conversion, then it gets really fun. We would go before the Beth Din and have a visit to the mikveh. After which, we’ll need to be remarried in an Orthodox ceremony. And then we could have a Hanukkah Habayit (home dedication - think housewarming party). And we would have to kasher everything in the kitchen.

Either way, it’s going to be a lot of work. And that ticker just keeps on ticking.

In my free time, I’m working 10-12 hour days. I get paid a salary that is based on a set number of hours per month. Meaning that if I work more hours, I get more money. And your paid maternity leave in Israel is based on the average amount you earned the four months prior to taking leave (for me, May-August). So it’s really in my best interest to work as much as I can handle. But man, all I do is sleep, eat, work and use the bathroom. Hence the craptastic job at blogging lately.

Thanks to everyone who responded to my last post, either by commenting or e-mail! It’s an interesting discussion to have and I’m glad there seem to be so many women out there who aren’t afraid to pick and choose what suits them best. I find it really heartening and stoutly refuse to be pigeon-holed.

Doc appointment in less than 12 hours. For now, it’s off to bed.

It’s a funny thing, this whole preparing to be a parent. There are aspects of the whole process that make me very glad I no longer live in the U.S., home of the Mommy Wars.

When I found out we were going to be doing IVF, I started reading blogs by other infertiles. When I found out we were going to do IUI, I started reading blogs by parents of multiples (you laugh, but it’s true). And when we found ourselves in the ridiculously lucky position of pregnancy, I started reading up on those things I might need to know about. Breastfeeding. New motherhood. Working from home. Etc.

If I thought the divide between childless-by-choice and infertility bloggers was wide, it’s nothing to the downright animosity that often marks the debates between the mommies. Working mom vs. SAHM vs. WAHM. Breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding. Planned c-sections vs. natural birth. Attachment parenting vs. cry it out.

I’m struggling to find a niche. I’ve always felt that I had a little cubby hole in the blogosphere. I was one of the religious female bloggers struggling with male factor infertility. I had a role to play in the production.

But it’s a dicey game out there with parenting plans. Although I’m reluctant to post some crazy manifesto steeped in the naivete of someone who is not yet having to parent an infant 24/7, I have an idea of how I would like things to go.

I want to breastfeed. Not because I think it leads to higher SAT scores. Not because I think bottle feeding is bad for children or mommies. Frankly, I don’t believe most of the hype. I want to breastfeed because it will save money and mean fewer new baby things to wash and sterilize. But yeah, I already own bottles. Because I know that even if breastfeeding works out perfectly, I will likely start pumping when I go back to work. And I’d like the hubby to be able to handle some of the night feedings, too.

I also hope to use cloth diapers. I don’t know for how long. We bought them. They are cute, but then again, they are also currently unused. I assume they are less cute when they are full of dookie. Again, not because I’m all crunchy granola (’cause yeah, I’m not) and want to save the environment, but because they save money.*

But to choose the two options above and find support comes with the doctrinaire approach to platforms seen only in U.S. politics. If you are pro-breastfeeding and pro-cloth diapering, you must also be pro-attachment parenting.

Which is where this whole neat plan derails. I may live to go against some of these proclamations, but…

I’m not sharing my bed with a baby. I already share it with a husband, a dog and two cats. There is no more room at the inn. This is why man created cribs, pack and plays, etc. We bought a very nice pack and play. We plan on buying a very nice crib. She should sleep in them. If she doesn’t want to, she can sleep somewhere else. But not in my bed.

I will reluctantly share my bedroom with an infant for a few weeks while we get the hang of breastfeeding. Hence the pack and play.

I am not wearing my child on me in a sling. I already have enough back pains from having D-cup breasts as a freshman in high school (I weighed 90 pounds - you do the math). I can occasionally see carrying her in the Baby Bjorn we have when I’m too damn lazy to shlep a stroller, but I don’t do the whole “baby against my chest like a papoose” deal. I have absolutely nothing against anyone who does - indeed, the whole point of this post is that folks should be able to choose parenting techniques a la carte. But I don’t care how much she likes it. As Bushie senior said, “Not goin do it.”

Which brings me to my next point of misunderstanding. When I postulate about how I would like, in the utopia I dream of when the baby isn’t kicking my bladder and I’m doped up on Benadryl, to parent, I get the same response.

“You’ll have to see what the baby wants when she gets here.”

Which boggles my mind a bit. I think of parenting techniques a bit like I think of consensual sex. It takes two. And when one party just ain’t having it, neither is the other. At the risk of sounding like a cold-hearted bitch, I’m not willing to kowtow to what the baby wants if it’s a parenting technique I can’t live with.

So. Where does that leave me? So confused and annoyed that I’m reluctant to register for birthing classes. Because those, too, are marked in their approaches. Far be it for me to tell anyone how to have their baby, but I can tell you right now that regardless of how much pain I am in, I’m not going to get much comfort out of Lamaze. I think it takes the right kind of person, much the same way that enjoying a yoga class means being able to focus on things other than the size of your own butt when you’re in downward dog. It just isn’t me.

I did have classes scheduled. I canceled them when I was told there would be weekly breathing exercises for my husband and I to practice. Unless the breathing exercises will more adequately help me to enunciate in Hebrew (say it with me now! Ani rotzah epidural akshav!), I’m not really interested. Now if we can talk about what in the hell you’re supposed to do with a baby after you come home from the hospital, I’m all ears.

As long as you don’t try to put her in my bed.

* I make it sound like we’re very poor and can’t afford this baby, don’t I? That’s not really the case, as the ridiculously large amount of brand spanking new baby gear that is due to arrive motzei Shabbat can attest to. But I still don’t like spending money for convenience. I think there’s a balancing act to it that I’ll just have to get used to when she gets here.

So.

Pesach touring was fun. We had a great time swimming in the waterfall pools at Ein Gedi. The only downside was the heat wave that hit most of Israel last week. The high temperature near the Dead Sea during our visit last Thursday was 115 degrees. What’s crazier is how hot it was in the North.

Somewhere in there, there is a belly. I know, it’s tough to see when you are blinded by the vast whiteness of my thighs. I have ordered a maternity swim suit (read: tailored Coleman tent) from the kind folks at Old Navy. The white thing to my right is the hubby. Funny how I’m still picky about covering all of my hair when I’m half naked.

Amazingly, I felt fine and doused myself repeatedly in SPF 60 like it was going out of style (which is, in and of itself, amusing since I doubt SPF 60 was ever really in style) and came through without bug bites, sunburn or dehydration. I was just good a sleepy for a couple days afterward, but I think that’s just par for the course in heat like that.

IKEA is on my shit list, but that’s another post for another time. I will conquer them if I have to build and stain the damn Leksvik crib from the bleached bones of their employees. Do not mess with a pregnant woman. No, I am not nesting. I think I’m just bitchy.

And then! An amazing thing happened in Israel! A cold front moved in. We got a little bit of rain (which I’m told is pretty unusual after Pesach) and its been chilly and breezy at night.

Right now, I’m going to go and toss on a sweatshirt while I “work from home.” The sheer thought of it gets me a little klempy in the corner of my eye.

And finally. The kid has started kicking so hard that it’s visible from “the outside.” Outside here having the meaning “my nekkid tummy” and not “beneath the many layers of the cantilevered pregnancy skirt that supports my flubber.”

I’m not sure a kevlar bullet could get through that padding.

****

Dear God,

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the week of cool weather.

Sincerely,

A fairly pregnant woman in Israel (you know the one)