Monday, March 10, 2008

Pregnancy Happy Hour: 2 for 1 hormone cocktails

I had this dream last night. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The pain wasn’t the focus. The focus was when I first saw her lungs expand and she took her first breath. I started crying. I couldn’t believe it was real. The doctors and nurses were all joyous and happy and everything was blurred except for her and her chest.
The clarity of her lungs expanding and contracting took my breath away. I didn’t see her face or anything else. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like but those lungs, by golly, could have been full size adult lungs.

I heard my dreams would start shifting to the delivery. I didn’t know it would happen so soon and just when I was getting used to the erotic dreams. I suppose in a strange way the topic is the same, my body. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or just the everyday focus on one’s body but pregnancy can bring on detailed sex dreams. Go figure, I’m a complete horn dog now and my husband probably looks at me like an incubation chamber for his unborn.

Chalk that up to the irony of pregnancy. It goes along side ‘I can finally eat guilt free but I’ll if I eat too much I’ll get heartburn/feel bloated/won’t be able to breathe/deal with cottage cheese thighs/deal with indigestion for 3 hours.’
One thing that isn’t a perk is the surge of hormones. Progesterone elevations cause your brain to occasionally hibernate. I’m serious. You know how annoying it is when while on your computer your pc decides to take a brief nap? That’s what happens to your brains. You’ll be standing there adamant you need to do something, like go to the dry cleaners. You’ll get there, pick up your dry cleaning but realize on the way back you forgot to drop off the boat load of dirty clothes in the back seat of your car.

Then you’ve got the cocktail of hormones that causes you to become an emotional basket case. All of a sudden the dams break open and your tear ducts burst for the silliest of reasons. I’m reading a short story to the Bean and the idea of Rumpelstiltskin taking the Queen’s first born away sends me to tears.

The worst for me right now is how my hubby is spending extra hours working. I think it’s a part of his nesting and stuff to do before the kid comes. I lean more toward the later. My theory is that he thinks the baby is my thing. I know that makes no sense but he’s always known that in my lifetime, I’d like to be a mom. Obviously, this can’t be ‘my thing’ alone but I suppose if we looked at our to do lists in life, be a mom is up there for me. Plus, pregnancy is different than being a mom and fortunately/unfortunately (depending on how you look at it) he really can’t experience pregnancy. If pregnancy and being a mother is my thing, then he should do something on his list. So he is spending as much of his energy and time trying to do his thing.

He’s not neglecting me. I know he’s trying his best to dote on me and give me extra attention. The hormones just do some wacky things. A normally independent woman suddenly loses her inability to multi-task and do simple things like put the kitchen-aid away on the top shelf and she feels helpless. The only person she feels comfortable to turn to is her husband.

I know some have told me to milk this but I don’t want to milk it. I want to be able to pack boxes and carry them to storage. I want to be able to move furniture but I can’t. I need to rely on my husband now and my OCD is not happy with the timing. I know I have a deep need to get things done on my schedule but there is a method to my madness now.

Next week is Palm Sunday. Hubby is working on Saturday and Sunday I have scheduled visits with the homebound. The following weekend is Easter. My family is coming over for Easter dinner. My kitchen is mostly boxed up sitting in my dining room waiting to be moved to storage. I have three or four furniture pieces that need to be recycled or donated sitting in my hallway. My pantry looks like a 9 year old raided it. My bathroom could use a good scrubbing. There is still painter’s tape along the edges of my picture molding in the hallway and we have yet to prepare for nursery. Ok, we haven’t even picked out the dresser drawer or ordered the crib yet but that’s beside the point.

I’m only getting bigger which slows my ability to pack and clean things tremendously. Hubby has increased work hours and a family reunion he plans to attend next month. After that, we’ve got childbirth classes and other infant care classes that will take up our free time the following month which leads us to June when I’ll probably need a forklift to get me to and fro.

I know I can’t focus more than two weeks ahead so I’m trying to figure out what to do about Easter and getting the house (at least the visible parts) guest friendly.
On a side note: my mother called me twice to ask me if I wanted a pork loin to cook for Easter. I know my mom means well but a menu for Easter is the last thing on my mind. We may very well have Easter pizza.

I guess in short, I’m feeling pressure, physically on my bladder and mentally in my head. I know it’s probably self-generated and fueled by my emotional state. I’m guessing this is only the beginning. If you need me, I’ll be in my happy place.