Hazard of Pregnancy: Mom Arm

You know it-- Mom Arm. It is the familiar human seatbelt. It used to swing across you as mom came to a screeching (or at least abrupt) halt while driving. It might have been at a stop sign, traffic light, in a parking lot when someone cut in front of her... And now, as I approach 19 weeks, I have found that I too have developed Mom Arm.

I have no little person sitting next to me in the passenger seat, but last night I found myself extending my right arm as if to prevent someone from leaning forward. Sure, I had a bag of stuff there like I usually do, but nothing that couldn't have fallen on the floor. I think it's just something that cannot be explained.

Now that we're in our new house, I am driving more. Perhaps I am more aware of my behavior, but I think it's simply another side effect of pregnancy. This one can stay as long as it wants to. The morning sickness on the other hand, should go. I have gone through a whole box of my bio bags and even moving to the nice country house hasn't totally spurred the illness. I get a little relief listening to the birds, smelling the jasmine, and looking out the window from my new office perch, but I still can't remember what 'normal' feels like. Only 21 more weeks to find out.. but let's hope it's sooner.

Meltdown

Today was hanging together until evening rolled around and then everything unraveled rather quickly. I really need to get myself to bed, so I won't elaborate. Let's just say that even with the medication, at approaching week 17 (SEVENTEEN! The nugget is the size of an avocado! I should be feeling better, not worse!) I'm sliding downward faster than a plebe on the Herndon monument.

Torture (con't)

It's Easter Sunday and I should have been gorging on Peeps and chocolate but instead, I've taken a few steps back and missed yet another great candy holiday. I was really disappointed when Valentine's Day came and went and I couldn't eat endless chocolate-covered marshmallow hearts and heart-shaped Reese's peanut butter cups. Now I've missed another one, and I'm just lucky that there aren't any other big candy holidays on the horizon.

I don't have a candy addiction, but I do like eating it. I enjoy having a sweet after dinner. Or, admittedly, after breakfast. Whatever. Now, even approaching 17 weeks, I still have to think to myself, "how will this taste going the other way?" and, "do you really want to do this?"

The same struggle I have with sweets is presenting itself with the one thing actually truly I want to drink: orange juice. I would like to swim in a river of the stuff and also get an OJ IV and have sticky orange fingers for days. I want pulpy teeth that I have to constantly floss from eating so many oranges. I pause when I see orange displays at the grocery store. Morning, noon and night, all I want are oranges. Is this a craving? Maybe. Or perhaps it's just an overwhelming urge to avoid getting scurvy. Regardless, these great navels and Valencias have been getting me in trouble. For the past three days I've satisfied my desire for an orange, orange juice, or both. And all three days I've suffered the consequences. Yep, still sick. But maybe now it's all my fault. I'm just tired of the Ensure. And the bland toast and the almonds and other things I've been forcing myself to eat in an attempt to get myself some nutrients and all-important protein. I just want to have a few oranges! So now they're off limits. Clint's not allowing me to eat them any more because they cause too much havoc. Sadness. It seems that fruit juices of any kind are tough. I can handle melons (boooorrr-ing) but I don't want melon. I just want the oranges!! Please!!

Now that oranges are off my menus and chocolate has been cut back, I'm left trying to get creative without causing problems. Tomorrow I head back to the aisles looking to be inspired. Wish me luck.

Massaaaaahhhge

I admit I'm a little behind with my updates. We're moving soon and I have spent a lot of my feel-good time packing boxes and then either moving them or pushing them around the house. Last week I was so sore from doing this that I decided it was time for a massage. There's a place near my apartment that I like to go to and I made myself an appointment for Thursday evening.

It was a strategic time: not too early that I couldn't take my medication (the last thing a masseuse wants is a nauseous client) and late enough that if I wanted, I could just come straight home and get into bed without worrying that I'd be up and wide awake at 4am.

I was a little nauseous when I got there but I've been a little nauseous a lot lately, so I wasn't too concerned that I would have any problems. Luckily, I was right near the bathroom if I had to call a halt to the magic massaging. That's one thing I've learned over the past two months: like Jason Bourne knows the exits, I know where the bathrooms are in any given place I visit.

Overall, the massage was uneventful. As a pregatron, they make you sign extra paperwork that says you won't sue them for any irrational reason (as if pregnant ladies are irrational!) and then they have little foamy blocks that keep you resting on your side instead of the belly. Not that my masseuse lady could tell I was even pregnant. No matter. I did just fine on my side and the desired effect was there: cat nap, muscles relaxed, no vomiting! yay.

I left feeling like I'd just had a good workout (which I had, without having to lift a finger!) and went to bed shortly after getting home. On Friday, I awoke a new woman! I wanted to believe that the nausea was all gone because of Gwen and my massage experience, but I know that is unlikely (especially because it's not really gone, it just officially began to truly taper over the weekend)... but I do think that the massage helped.

So, yes. I am feeling a little better. I am eating! In fact, I am munching on Oaty Bites as I write this. It's still a little tough to find something I feel like eating, but I really hope that by Easter I'll be digging into some peanut butter eggs and nibbling a Peep or two. One day at a time... each day closer to normal!

One step forward... two steps back.

Ok. Enough. I know I said about a month ago that I was ready to be done with this constant nausea-sickness stuff but now I'm really ready. I don't mind the idea of being the size of a beached Cambrian pinniped. I just want to keep everything that I put in my mouth inside my body!

Being a constantly nauseous normal-sized human isn't cutting it. I am willing to skip straight to the later stages of this adventure if I can get one of those Chance cards that let you get out of jail free.

While I'd like to think the end is on the horizon, this stage isn't exactly one that I can figure out. One day I feel pretty good and I can walk around and sit at a table and watch other people eat (and sometimes nibble something myself) and the next I find myself looking around the car for plastic baggies in case of an emergency. Yes, I'm venturing out more. No, it doesn't mean I'm that much better. I think it means I don't care anymore. I need to get out.

Today I went to recycle some bottles and cans because here in California we pay a deposit for those-- and at 5 cents a pop, it can really add up! I wanted my money back. After all, I'm not exactly able to work these days so a day's income could be a whopping $5 or $10 depending on my bottle and can stash.

I stood in line with my bag for a while and then 5 minutes later I was still in line. Ten minutes passed. I was still in line. I had moved a little, but not much. I started to feel super nauseous. I looked around -- there were trash cans, right there in the open. Available for old trash bags or cans and bottles that didn't make the CRV cut. I figured I had an option if I needed it-- in front of all the other can and bottle redemption people. But then I thought, I'd rather be sick at home. And however long I have to wait while feeling that way was probably not enough to justify a few dollars. While I'd have a good story, I'd still feel lousy at the end of it and I'd still have to drive myself home and I would still have the same yucky (yet now oh so familiar) taste I'd try to brush away without triggering the gag reflex again. I turned to the man behind me and told him he could have my bottles and cans. Then I got in the car and went home.

Bananas!

And strawberries!

After weeks of struggle... I might be turning a corner. Yesterday I ate strawberries with no ill-effects. And today, I had a banana! I'm still a bit undecided when it comes to what I want, but I'm not totally grossed out by the thought of eating... just a little grossed out. Yay!

I have managed to eat two meals today, and it's not too late to rule out the possibility of something that will resemble dinner.

I'm not going to push it, but I hope that next week I'll be nibbling non-stop!

Hello, Second Trimester

It's official. I'm into week 14 -- regardless of calculations. Remember one of the 2000 Presidential debates when Al Gore and George W. Bush accused one another of fuzzy math? Well, I think the doctors I've been seeing could also be fuzzy mathematicians.

Technically, the websites I've plugged my data into say we're looking at September 16. But according to nugget measurements, two doctors predict September 11, so that's the date that's plastered on my paperwork. Yep, 9/11. Memorable? Yes. Bad mojo? Perhaps. But considering something like 4 to 7% of babies were born on their predicted date (I'm talkin' to you, Leigh!) I'm guessing we're looking at later than the 11th.

Just for kicks, and since living in the future is still easier than the present lately, I've checked out some other dates around that time that the nugget could share with notable names. There are also plenty of family friends who think it'll be their birthday-- Share September 10 with Maya? Or the due date with Dan and Harry Connick Jr...? Hmm.

I'm mentally on the bandwagon of the 18th with Lance Armstrong and also because it's Adam and Katie's anniversary, but then again... I know I'm not gonna want to wait that long (that's true summer here in SoCal--hot, hot, hot!). Place your bets, folks. At least getting a pool going will keep us in the spirit of March Madness.

If you're curious, here are some other dates, with their corresponding well-known names:

September 12: Barry White, George Jones, Jennifer Hudson (definitely a musician)

September 13: Mr. Hershey of Hershey Chocolates, Mel Torme, Fiona Apple (A sweet, jazzy velvet fog child)

September 14: Sam Neill, Amy Winehouse (A scientist kid who invents Jurassic Park? No, no, no)

September 15: President Taft, Tommy Lee Jones, Oliver Stone (a Texas-twangy conspirator kid who loves to take baths!)

September 16: Ed Begle, Jr., David Copperfield (Composting kid... who disappears when it's time to do the dishes)

September 17: Anne Bancroft (Hello, Mrs. Robinson!)

September 18: Lance, Jada Pinkett Smith, Frankie Avalon (swoon!)

September 19: Twiggy, Joan Lunden, Trisha Yearwood, Jim Abbott (a baseball-playing singing supermodel?)

If we get any later, I'm not sure what I will do with myself. Let's not think about that.