Stretching Mia

June 29th, 2009
6 1/2 months pregnant

I never considered myself a ticklish person. Whenever an attempt to tickle me was made say on my feet for example, I would normally squirm away from the offender (my husband), and complain that I was more annoyed than full of laughter.

Lately, I've been scratching....My belly, my hands, my feet. I'm one itchy individual. I'm not ticklish. I'm just itchy. To me, to be ticklish conjures up all kinds of childhood memories where playground antics sometimes ended up with me or friends of mine on the ground in a huge "tickle pile". Sometimes we would laugh and sometimes, more often than not I would walk away feeling betrayed thinking "how could my friends tickle to death?" I would laugh occasionally but those times were definitely the exception and not the rule.

Since my skin is quite literally stretching before my very eyes, it's become taut and therefore, very, very itchy. I know I'm not supposed to scratch, especially my belly for fear of agitating my skin and creating those dreaded stretch marks, but I can't help myself. Anyone who questions the theory of evolution, only needs to look at me while I'm scratching to find a grown woman looking very ape-like, as she scratches the front and sides of her belly. All I'm missing is the banana. I feel like I'm addict. A scratching addict. When the itchy sensation begins, I simply MUST scratch. I've been able to scratch in secret for the most part but recently I've been caught a few times mid-scratch.

Over the weekend, we attended a birthday party for my stepmother and less than hour after we arrived, I started to feel a familiar itchy sensation but this time, it was on the bottom of my feet. I'm not sure if anyone reading this blog can comprehend how completely uncomfortable it is to be at a party and have itchy feet! Nothing quite prepared me for just how annoying it is. The urge to scratch was overwhelming. Needless to say, we left early.

Another thing I'm noticing is that along with the itchy skin that comes from stretching and swelling, some of my fingertips are numb. Even as I type this I'm having to use my index fingers to type, one letter at a time because the tips of my middle fingers are still numb. Not sure what this is all about but according to "What To Expect When You're Expecting", numbness due to swelling is totally normal. I just thought that after extensively shaking my fingers, the numbness might go away. Alas, no.

It's hard to even believe that I still have 3 months left of this. I can't wait to see what's next. Until something new develops, I guess I'll continue to be numb and itchy and imagine where my daughter has decided to position herself today....

Swinging Mia

June 23, 2009
25 Weeks pregnant

I have lived in my condominium for 7 years, even before I was married. Before living in the condo, I lived in a small one-bedroom apartment where I wasn't allowed to do anything to change the um "aesthetic". I couldn't paint the walls with anything other than the putty-puke color that was already there. When light streamed through the windows and bounced off of the dull grey carpet, you would swear the building was a re-furbished insane asylum and my apartment was the electric-shock room ground zero. Since I consider myself a creative person, when I finally bought a home of my own, I went hog-wild. I painted each room a different shade with pops of red and black throughout. I have adorned the couches with beautiful throw-pillows that are reminiscent of those you would find in a Chinese Emperor's palace (or, at least I think you would). With the help of my decorator mom, I had custom built-in banquets and window seats created. I have always wanted a place that I could transform into a beautiful oasis, which I did.

Since I am now pregnant, my mother has been transforming our former office/guest room into the most precious baby nursery in the world. It's black, hot pink and baby pink. Of course, I would like it to be even more of an edgy, rock-n-roll baby room, emphasis on "edgy", but my mom has included a fair share of "baby pink" so to anyone who might stumble upon this space, they will definitely see a little girl's room. The room is small but then again, Mia will be small for a while too. My mom found the most comfortable rocking chair in the world, complete with a matching ottoman that are both a little large but completely worth it, if for nothing more than the shear comfort factor. When all is said and done, the room will be a perfect and functional space for our little girl.

Over the weekend, some friends of ours brought over our very first baby gift, an adorable pink swing. The swing comes with a hanging mobile, music, nature sounds, and with flick of a button, it can swing either side-to-side or back-to-front. We tried to put in the baby room but realized very early on, the room is a little too small so we moved it by the window in the living room. Even though the living room has always been the more formal space in our condo, if there is such a thing, Mia's belongings are now starting to take over. The reality of this is overwhelming. In just 3 short months, we will have a living, breathing Mia swinging in our living room. I have to admit that I have been a little nervous about our impending arrival because I know our lives are going to change drastically. Even though it sticks out like a sore a thumb in our internationally-decorated living room, this swing represents change and a new future. I just wish they would make swings like this for adults because it looks so comfortable and I can really use a good night's sleep...

Forgetting Lana Falana

June 19th, 2009
6 months pregnant

As I inch closer and closer to the date of my personal pregnancy end-game, October 7th, some of the obscure things going on with my body and mind are no longer ceasing to amaze me, which is either great or downright frightening. I've now started to count things as notches on my invisible belt, since I no longer have a waist to speak of. The strange brownish line running down my belly is not bizarre anymore it's just another notch on what seems to be an endless pregnancy chain. Just what is it about the taste of grilled artichokes that has me feeling queasy now when they used to be something I thoroughly enjoyed? Another notch. I have been really been doing well with the whole "notch system" because as I go through this journey, I've been able to put order in a world where order seems to be absent---That is until the events of last night shattered my very being and made me question just what type of mother am I going to be?

Our dog Lana is a mix, part Rhodesian Ridgeback, part Lab and part Cujo. At the risk of sounding preachy, I rescued her through an organization because I don't believe in buying dogs when so many dogs are in need of homes because of abuse they have suffered. Lana, was such a dog. Because Lana has a fear of loud sounds from motor-cycles primarily, I have always had the distinct impression that Lana came from the home of a motorcycle-rider--a Hell's Angels-type from Pacoima who kept her outdoors 24 hours a day, chained her to a tree and forced to act as a guard dog for his large supply of Marijuana plants. Subsequently, when we adopted Lana she's unlike any dog I've ever known. She absolutely HATES going outdoors, even to pee. Trying to gently encourage her to go out for her daily walks is the equivalent to trying to wake a sleepy teenager for school. It takes a lot of patience to say the least. She also hates to be alone but since I'm now pregnant, we've had to switch gears and really buckle down with Lana in order to make sure she'll be ok when Mia arrives. We have been giving her extensive training lessons, and doggie Prozac, which seems to be helping her quite a bit. She's still Lana, just a more mellow version.

My husband, Danny and I both work during the day, a fact that is not lost on Lana. We have been very fortunate in that my husband's parents have graciously offered to keep Lana at their home a couple of days a week. Not only do they live on the way to my office, they have a lovely backyard for Lana to run around in, as well as two dogs of their own. From what I understand, Lana spends her days lounging outside on the grass by their pool and occasionally rises for play time and food. It's a great comfort knowing my dog is being taken care of in such a wonderful way. It makes me less guilty when I have to leave her there because I know she is in good hands, and most importantly that she's being loved.

This leads me to the events of yesterday evening. On Thursdays, I dilligantly drive Lana over Laurel Canyon to the Valley where I work, pausing only to drop her off at my In-Laws. Danny and I take turns picking her up depending on what time I'm able to leave work versus when he is able to leave. Yesterday, Danny and I had a rather lengthy conversation during which I agreed to pick up Lana from my In-Laws.

I had a lovely drive home. I spoke on the phone most of the time with my friend, Valerie and laughed while Mia was kicking me in the belly. There was very little traffic and I arrived home in just under 25 minutes.

My stepmother and husband were standing in front of our building so I drove up and said "hi"! Then, Danny looked somewhat concerned and asked me where Lana was. I FORGOT to pick up Lana! I FORGOT! Like she wasn't even a thought in my mind! I couldn't believe it! As I said, I'm a person who needs order in her life. I'm not a person who forgets their doggie! Of course, I panicked but then Danny reminded me that she was at his parents house, not at the Hell's Angel's house so I took a breath. He also told me that forgetfulness is a common pregnancy side-effect because he too, has been sucked into the "What to Expect When You're Expecting" vortex. He kindly suggested I get out of the car so he could get in and pick up our dog. I did as he said while hyperventalting and then ran upstairs to consult the book and indeed, forgetfulness is a real sympton of pregnancy. This did put my mind at ease for a moment but it did make me think. For all intesive purposes, Lana is our child. What if I'm that person who forgets their child somewhere? What if I'm the woman you see on the news in handcuffs because I can't remember where I left my daughter? These are very scary thoughts to have but since now I'm going to be glued to my daughter for the rest of her life, I guess I won't have to worry about forgetting her and nobody will have to see my disturbing mugshot on Perez Hilton's mugshot hall-of-fame.

Sex and the Mia

June 18th, 2009
6 months pregnant

With science being so advanced and people's imaginations growing more each day, the possibilities of becoming a parent through non-traditional means is almost endless. Invitro-fertilization, fertility drugs such as Clomid, surrogacy, sperm donors and adoption are just a few of the ways.

However, in order to get pregnant the "old-fashioned" way, two people have sex. Presumably, the sex is a fun and loving experience and if the pregnancy gods are awake, one might end up with child.

There are a few people reading this blog who I’m sure do not want to put me + sex in the same sentence but it is a fact (mom & dad) that when I fell in love with Danny, sex did happen.

Since I’ve become pregnant, sex has become less a fun romp or “roll in the hay” if you will and more of an exercise in patience and tenacity. As I become larger, my belly gets wider and lower and I’m starting to feel Mia move a lot causing me to realize more and more that there is an actual living being inside of me. Therefore, when it comes to making love some of the most basic positions are downright IMPOSSIBLE. Missionary—OUT. Girl on top---OUT. Nobody ever really goes into the logistics because this is supposed to be an interlude between two consenting adults. In all of the books I’ve either been given or bought, nowhere does it mention the need to literally stand on my head in order to do what came quite naturally to us before I was a swollen mess. I became lightheaded and suffered what I’m very sure is a mild form of whiplash during our last encounter.

Trying to extract one ounce of pleasure from something that, in it’s very nature is supposed to be pleasurable has become more and more difficult. I’m not a particularly limber person nor have I ever been into Yoga but I would bet a million dollars that if someone saw what goes on in our bedroom, I would look like an Olympic gymnast—an Olympic gymnast with a huge belly and swollen feet. The acrobatics and tumbling that goes on and most important, the sheer laughter could really be pulled from a bad tv sitcom—only the sitcom would be on HBO because it would have to be R-rated.

Material Mia!

June 16th, 2009
23 Weeks pregnant

In a world where few things remain the same, I can always count on my feet to swell to monstrous proportions during the day due to my pregnancy. I was told not to buy new shoes because my feet might actually grow a size larger and stay that way permanently. I hope this permanent situation only applies to feet because my butt and thighs are getting larger and larger by the week and I don’t think they’re making postnatal clothing large enough to accommodate them.

I love to shop. Those who know me know I love to shop online particularly. I tend to buy higher-end clothing from websites like shopbop.com and revolveclothing.com. I was happy to buy the latest and greatest fashions because it just felt right. I’m not one of these people who has the patience to shop for a bargain. That was, until I started to expand due to my growing little one. No matter how hard I try, I will never look fashionable in yoga pants, a peasant top and flip-flops. God knows, I've tried. I’ve even visited and actually purchased maternity clothes from Old Navy! My how times have changed. My online shopping had been put to an almost stand-still since I no longer can fit into the skinny jeans that are in fashion right now. My husband, Danny is not unhappy about this latest pregnancy development because, as he puts it, “we can now pay our mortgage” so I guess it isn’t so bad. However, much to Danny's dismay I have managed to find a light at the end of this fashion less tunnel. I have found a new outlet for my shopping problem, my future daughter.

I’m being given a baby shower so therefore, I simply had to register—online, of course! The old me headed right for Kitson Kids online because any reason to shop at a Kitson is good one. I live around the corner from one of the hottest streets in Los Angeles, Robertson Blvd. Every high-end baby boutique is there. All ripe for my picking. I could literally lose myself in Lisa Kline Kids because they have the most adorable and over priced tutus on the planet! Well, the new me had to step in and intervene when I was actually seriously thinking of buying a $98.00 bedazzled onesie. So, I did some asking around and I was told Babies R Us is the go-to place to get the most important and necessary items I’ll need to properly care for our baby. So, being the ever eager-beaver, I went online to Babies R Us and registered. I’m not sure if I missed something but when I typed into the search space, “car seats”, about 500 came up. Um, maybe it’s me but how the hell am I supposed to choose which is the greatest car seat from the 500 on this website? My friends, who are now parents tell me I have to research and do some price-comparing in order to find the car seat that works best for me. I think the universe is off because to have to take the time to research and price compare totally defeats the purpose of simply clicking “purchase now” with my computer mouse. I don’t do “price comparison”. It’s simply too time consuming. The only time I paused was when I searched for strollers and found out there is a stroller that sells for $1000.00! Now, far be it from me to look at that as something bad but since I’m registering for this and since I want people to actually come to my shower, I don't want to offend anyone by registering for something that extravagant. Besides, does one really need a $1000.00 stroller? I think I could make much better use of a Gucci diaper bag anyway.

The Sounds of Silence

6/14/09

23 Weeks pregnant

I'm learning a lot about the human body and what, as a woman I'm capable of. The miracle of life is really just that but with all miracles, sometimes there are strange and baffling elements that surround it.

A pregnant woman's best friend or worst nightmare depending on how you look at it is a book called "What to Expect When You're Expecting". On one hand, it's a wonderful source of knowledge for all of the little unexpected things that come up while one is pregnant. On the other hand, it's a hypochondriac's heroin. As I mentioned in my earlier post, my legs & feet have swollen up to water-flipper-like consistency so I naturally turned to the "good book" and realized that along with it being perfectly normal, I could also have severe liver damage or high blood pressure associated with a somewhat scary disease called preeclampsia. My poor doctor has endured countless calls because I'm convinced my liver is toxic. No matter how often he sees me. No matter how often he assures me I'm fine. Nope. I'm not hearing any of it. I'm going to die.

My husband, Danny knows I'm extremely neurotic but he still loves me anyway. It's easy to forget about the husband when the wife is with child because as a man, he can't possibly relate to what I'm going through. That is until Apple invented the IPhone. In addition to all of the usual advantages like phone, video download, ITunes, Internet access, the IPhone has other amazing capabilities that allows the user to download applications such as IPregnancy, where we can literally track our babies progression on weekly basis. It was clearly invented for a man's use because most woman will tell you that trying to type on it if you have any nails whatsoever is frustrating to say the least but I digress.

Among the more unusual pregnancy symptoms I've now become somewhat used to, is waking up on wet pillow cases. A woman's body temperature during pregnancy can skyrocket, especially at night. I wish I could say that sweating profusely was my only issue. It now appears that I drool. I drool like a rabid dog while I'm asleep. I wake up and along with wiping the sweat away from the back of my neck, I also have to wipe the saliva away from my very wet lips. I have never been a drooler not even when I took to falling asleep during Geometry class on daily basis so to drool, like a baby seems a little unnecessary. Although, I would take drooling over Shrek-feet any day. I'm lucky, I guess because I'm blessed with both. Oh joy. I did consult "the book" and excess saliva is apparently a very real and normal side effect.

Right below the excess saliva description in "What to Expect When

You're Expecting" is another dandy side-effect, Snoring. For weeks my

husband has been telling me that I've been snoring like an old man. I, of

course have denied this because I NEVER snored. In fact, Danny is the snorer in the family. There have been many-a-night where I've been awake, tossing & turning and staring at him, pondering whether or not to smother him with my pillow because he snores so loudly. Since murder is not an option I have created a system that allows me to sleep more peacefully. I simply put MY pillow over my head and that seems to muffle the sound. So when Danny told me that I'm now snoring and keeping him up at night, I thought he had nerve. That is until he played me an audio tape he took with his handy IPhone. At first, I thought he taped himself snoring because it did sound like an old man, but alas, it was me. So now, I'm a sweaty drooler who snores. What a turn-on I must be to my husband. It's all about the miracle of life I guess....

The Howard Stern Dilemma

6/12/09
5 1/2 months pregnant

There are very few things I'm passionate about. My husband, my dog a really good piece of thin-crust pizza and of course, Howard Stern. Don't ask me why. I don't fall into that "I'm a woman and he objectifies women" category that so many of my gender tend to be a part of. I really feel that if these women would actually listen to him once in a while they would find like me, that he's extremely intelligent and hilarious!

I have been an avid Howard Stern listener for years but since I've become pregnant my husband has reminded me almost weekly that once the baby comes I will no longer be able to listen to him while she's in the room at the risk of her hearing something that might be construed as offensive. As if by some miracle, our baby will be born with those Lindsay Wagoner "Bionic Woman" super-ears that come not only with the ability to hear everything everywhere, but have the added feature of allowing her to understand complex thoughts and sentences at birth. Furthermore, even if I do give birth to such a child, wouldn't it help her to be more aware---to initiate her if you will into a world that might contain the occasional curse word or flash of nudity?
Assuming she won't be able to understand one thing he says for at least the first few years of her life, must I be deprived of Howard Stern?

I think my Howard Stern anxiety came to a boil last night when I had the most intense dream. I have read that during pregnancy, dreams can be much more vivid. Last night I dreamt it was the end of the world but for some reason I was stuck in a New York City pizza parlour with none other than Howard Stern himself! Well, I was actually there with, Howard, his wife, members of his posse and his infant child. Now, any Howard Stern-listener knows that Howard has been adamant about NOT having another child so seeing one in my dream was strange. It was the end of the world and all I wanted to do was run. So I did just like Forrest Gump. Even in my dream I was out of shape because by the time I was a block away I was huffing & puffing like I just ran a marathon. I got up to the top of the block and saw a missile headed straight towards me so I ran back to the pizza restaurant where Howard & crew were huddled, of course he was in a private roped-off area. I saw his baby was crying so I picked her up. She was a beautiful child with bright blue eyes. I was wearing a hideous jean jacket--something I would NEVER wear if my life depended on it. Just as I lifted the crying baby, she peed on me! I then tried to find Howard to give him back his little girl but he wouldn't take her back. So now I'm stuck with the end of the world approaching, wearing an atrocious jean jacket and holding Howard Stern's pee-aholic baby and that's when I wake up.

Mamma Mia!

6/11/09
Week 22 (5 ½ months)

I have been holding off writing down the numerous changes going on with my body since my thinking was by actually committing them to paper meant that I was really pregnant, a fact that I have been denying to myself for quite sometime. Even though I haven't been able to fit into my fabulously stylish clothes for 3 months, I still felt that I wasn’t pregnant. This had been the case until a few days ago when I indulged in some homemade chocolate chip cookies and I felt Mia move! I wasn’t sure at first what I was feeling but when I took a bite of the cookie, I saw my belly rise. I believe I might be carrying a future chocoholic! Who knew? Does this mean I should continue to eat cookies all the time?

My feet have decided to morph into bread-like loaves. From the waist down I look like Shrek, literally. From what I’ve been reading, the swelling, as the professionals call it, edema is not supposed to happen until the last trimester. What the hell? Because my feet & legs are the biggest at the end of the day, I’ve been elevating them on 3 pillows. I have built what I believe is a fairly helpful elevating system that resides underneath the blankets of our too-small bed. The problem is, in the middle of the night, the top pillow tends to fall down and gets lodged between the bed and the sheet so I end up with my legs & feet level, totally defeating the purpose. I also end up freezing cold because I no longer have any sheets or blankets due the fact they get stuck underneath the fallen pillow. I’m then forced to wake up at 3:00am and re-make the bed which my husband, Danny just loves. I guess he’d better get used to waking up in the middle of the night anyway right? So, after I make the bed and organize all of my pillows and shift my arms up above my head so my hands won't swell and put my legs up and turn to sleep on the left-side because that's how you're supposed to sleep when you're pregnant, just when I’m finally semi-comfortable I have to pee.

To pee or not to pee. The constant need to pee, much like breathing has become ALMOST routine. I say almost because one never quite gets used to the four-time-a night urges. Last night our adorable dog, Lana decided to get up and want to play. She’s been waking up in the middle of the night a lot lately. I’m sure it’s because she senses a change is coming. We moved Danny’s desk into our bedroom and the backroom is becoming more and more "babified". Lana is now relegated to either our bedroom or the living room of our cozy 2-bedroom condo. Once Danny calms her down and she’s finally asleep, inevitably I have to get up to go to the bathroom. I’ve been trying to literally tip-toe around because god forbid I should wake up the dog.

Last night, I had to get up to pee. As I moved I jostled the blankets which alerted Lana, who woke up and bounced over to my side of the bed with her tail wagging like she was getting ready to run. I almost tripped over her as I waddled toward he restroom. When I finally came back to bed I noticed Lana sprawled out on my side of the bed. So now Danny and Lana are blissfully asleep while I'm trying to carefully maneuver my way back to how I was BP (before pee). Apparently, there is only room for one woman in this bed. After carefully moving her to the middle I began the arduous task of reassembling the pillows...Again!