What the actual %@$& is happening in there? A 40 week adventure
After the immediate shock wore off, I realized I would have to probably call my doctor and get some sort of official confirmation, maybe do some paper work, and then find some kind of lillypad to sit on meditatively for the next 40 weeks. Turns out, doctors aren’t nearly as manic about pregnancy in 30 year old woman as I expected. She didn’t even want to see me until I was 8 weeks! Um what? Perhaps you didn’t hear me but I’m PREGNANT! Surely I need to be seen immediately! She settled for sending me for a blood test, just to shut me up (I think).
I had been thinking about using a Midwife for my pre-natal care, but I was a little worried about the judgement from family. While midwifery care is becoming more accepted and mainstream, it is not well understood. The two most frequent questions I answered were "NO I'm not having a home birth" and "YES I can have an epidural if I decide I want one." This was the first big decision we had to make as parents, and I’m so glad I trusted my gut. My apprehension lasted about 4 minutes after I met my midwife Angela Umoh from the Hamilton Midwives. She was calm, yet powerful, with the most melodic voice I had ever heard. I knew she was going to be a friend and the perfect guide to transition me into motherhood.
That time I 'thought' I saw a bump (in reality, just many Tim Horton's bagels)
Around 6 weeks I traded that lillypad in for the cool comfort of my bathroom floor. I spent weeks laying on the floor, watching Scandal on my laptop, while vomiting. Usually I’d get it together enough by 8:00 to get to work in one piece, but not without a stop at Tim Hortons for a bagel to sit like a rock in my belly. This continued until I was about 20 weeks and then I felt like a million bucks! All the puking, and the fact that I was coming home and walking the dog rather than having a glass or two of wine, resulted in (miraculously!!) little weight gain through my pregnancy. It was the strangest thing, but for once, I actually LOVED my changing body. For as long as I can remember, I felt nothing but negative feelings towards my body when it would get bigger, either through building muscle or gaining weight. This was different and I embraced, appreciated, and even celebrated my new shape!
In the early months of my pregnancy, carbs and lemonade were the only things that could both satisfy my nausea and hunger. As I came out on the other side of this state of being, I could not eat enough dairy products, which is revolting to me now as i HATE the thought of milk and I was easily downing a litre every 2 days. Then it got worse. I couldn't stop eating strawberry flavored dairy products- Strawberry Milk, Strawberry yogurt, ONLY the Strawberry from the Chapman's Neopolitan Ice Cream carton. It was a weird and disgustingly embarrassing time in my gastronomic history.
Who am I?!
We also decided to wait to find out the gender of our baby on the birth-day. Not only did this mean we had to come up with both Boy and Girl names, but also something we could call our baby while in utero. I'm a bit foggy on the details, but somehow Buster was the nickname that stuck. In hindsight, this was such a great way for us to bond with the baby and each other. Spending hours laying together while Matt talked to my belly, walking the dog and sending positive energy to this new person I was growing, it was so special.
I finally started to feel little Buster moving around 22 weeks, first like popcorn behind my belly button, then pretty quickly to full-on karate chops and gymnastics tumbling. It was the strangest yet most wonderful feeling, and while it was uncomfortable at times (like when I was trying to sleep, or in the middle of a meeting) I still somehow I miss it! I came to look forward to the afternoon hiccups as I sat at my desk. It was a nice reminder to get up for a walk or have a little chat with my littlest companion. During the second and third trimesters, I had a bit of SPD (the weirdest sensation of bruising right on your pubic bone), some tingling carpal tunnel and random nosebleeds thanks to overly sensitive mucous membranes through pregnancy, but otherwise, it was smooth sailing!
Yes, there is in fact a baby in there!
I carried on, feeling pretty amazing (well, after the puking) until about 36 weeks, and then my right knee (which has a history of injury) started bothering me. It was stiff and really sore, and I knew it was more than just the regular aches and pains of late pregnancy. I had been getting regular prenatal massage (from my amazing friend Tijen at Earth Kisses Sky), so I added in acupuncture and physio, thinking it would help return some mobility to the joint or at least offer some comfort to me. Since I was working against a ticking time bomb, I managed to talk my way into seeing my orthopedic surgeon who fixed me up from a Bachelorette Party related injury 2 years prior. I had hopes of getting some relief through a cortisone shot, which my midwife had reluctantly approved. What I learned was that a cortisone shot would be no help, but since he couldn’t give me an MRI, he guessed with his swaggy surgeon's confidence that I had a NEW and SERIOUS injury that, if I wasn't pregnant, would require immediate surgery. Next thing I knew, the anesthesiologist was there talking to me about transferring my care to a different hospital all together, having a NICU team and an OB team on standby in case I went into labour during the procedure, and performing my knee surgery under spinal anesthetic. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL WAS HAPPENING?!?! I don't think either of these doctors were prepared to deal with a heavily pregnant, nearly hysterical, woman that day.
One of the last bump shots before we met Buster
This was NOT how I envisioned the last weeks of my pregnancy panning out! With some sage advice from my OB Sister-in-Law, I decided against immediate surgery and to also start my Mat Leave a week early. I spent the next three weeks floating in various pools and enjoying what would be the last ME time for a long time! In hindsight, I'm glad I delayed my surgery and took the extra time for myself. It was an indulgent and relaxing way to mentally and emotionally prepare for the next chapter of life. Oh, and to stockpile my Costco goods and freezer meals because I'm still a Type A Planner after-all.
The last days of alone time, two days before meeting our baby.
