Today I did something I always said I would never do: I went to a chiropractor. My midwife has been suggesting it as my hip has been all sorts of painful; however, chiropractors seem like witch doctors to me. Witch doctors who crack your back and jerk you around. Well, I went in because honestly limping is getting old. In the lobby was a skeleton with a yellow wig. That alone should have told me to run. But I waited and went back where I met a chiropractor who reminded me of a taller version of a leprechaun. He did not talk much, but seemed normal– no pot of gold hiding in the room. I warned him I was terrified. I warned him multiple times. He informed me my hip was so jammed up that it was causing my right leg to be shorter than my left! No wonder I’ve been walking around in circles… sorry bad joke. We adjusted my hips– which was mostly him jerking my my leg. My jammed up hip refused to align and he informed me I needed more sessions… suspicious. He then was all “While you’re here let me adjust your mid back and neck.” I nervously allowed the mid back to be adjusted– again this just felt like yanking me around with some popping. As soon as he went to touch my neck I started trying to convince him my neck was fine. “No, no I’m good. My neck already does this crunchy sound sometimes probably best not to annoy it. I am seriously freaking out right now.” But he continued with the occasional “Ma’am you need to relax.” HA! Relax he says. He somehow managed to make my neck pop which resulted in my audibly gasping. After that he helped me up because this girl can’t sit up without assistance and told me to come back on Friday. Mind you I was FREAKING out. I felt all freaked out and shaky. He was trying to get me to get my stuff and go to the receptionist, but I just wanted to sit there and continue losing my cool. I did manage to leave, I even made crazy small talk with the receptionist– “Yeah yeah I’m 37 weeks pregnant, but chiropractors are freaky right?! Like come on!!”. Needless to say this B isn’t planning to go back on Friday for another hip jerking visit.
ALSO, within an hour of leaving my hips stabbing pain came back as I was walking through a parking lot in the rain… So I slow limped and got drenched.
I am 36 weeks pregnant (and some days). Up until last night my skin has been fine. Itchy and kind of veiny looking, but still fine. However, I looked in the mirror last night and there at the front of my stomach were these pink lines! When I first got pregnant I fully expected stretch marks. I am a realist. People get stretch marks. But as the weeks wore on and my skin stretched without leaving marks, I thought I was one of the lucky ones. I thought this belly would look weird and veiny and translucent, but not pink lined! So there I stood staring at my belly in near tears at the marks. And THEN today at my midwife appointment she mentioned the marks, “Wow your skin is really stretching right here.” It took everything in me not to call her a big meanie and cry.
I know the marks are worth it. I know that the baby is the prize and the marks are just a fact of life. But it is hard to talk myself in to self acceptance. It is hard to love my body sometimes. I think at some point we all struggle with looking in the mirror and loving what we see. I am trying so desperately to love what I see. To see the marks as tiger stripes or something empowering and not as something that makes me less pretty. I know , I know that all sounds vain. But, I want to be pretty!! I want to like what I see when I look in the mirror. I am more than skin deep, I am more than my physical look, but I can still want to look pretty, right?!
I’ll keep you updated on my stripes!
Warrior Princess… or something like that
We had anticipated moving into a two bedroom this Summer. We imagined a nursery with little fox decorations all over it. That didn’t happen. We ended up staying in our tiny loft apartment. It’s 600ish square feet. It is a one bedroom loft. The stairs drive me crazy because it means the baby dances on my bladder and I have to lug my big ol belly up the stairs. So our bed and the crib couldn’t both fit in our bedroom. So first we moved the dresser downstairs and shuffled some bookcases upstairs into a closet. Then we had to disassemble our bed frame and store it in order to fit the baby crib. His nook is bigger than our nook. It has little paintings hung up over his crib, his closet has clothes hanging in it and books stacked on his dresser top. His area is precious. Our area is less precious. But hey isn’t being a parent about the occasional sacrifice? SO we live in a tiny apartment. So we have to get dressed downstairs. So what?!
I let the cat out of the bad on my birthday. I posted an ultrasound picture and although it wasn’t creative the comments and compliments I got made me smile. From there the rest of the world slowly found out. I am big enough now that people feel confident saying, “When are you due?” or “Well what do we have here?” and gesturing at the belly. It doesn’t offend me, It THRILLS me. People around me, even strangers, are happy for me and excited about my baby! Who wouldn’t love that! My sweet students even gave me gifts as well as baby name suggestions (the most memorable being Jeffreynetta).
In other news I have found that I do not mind people touching the bump as long as they do it tastefully and over my shirt. The baby’s movements are like a tickle inside my stomach and so the outside world can’t feel the little flutters, but hey if they want to try who am I to judge?
I do find it hard to admit but it is hard to see myself in the mirror. I almost don’t recognize myself. Seeing my body get bigger triggers all of my teenaged body issues. I remind myself that bump is bouncing baby and not a chocolate cake. Struggling to get my pants to button now is not the same as my 14 year old self squeezing in to too small jeans just to say I could.
I am better at keeping secrets than anyone would ever imagine. I am notorious for being an over sharer and yet my lips have remained zipped about baby G. Oh sure my family and closest friends know, but the world at large is in the dark. I am slightly shocked no one is questioning my inability to button my pants these days.
I don’t have a good reason it is a secret. I don’t subscribe to the belief you have to wait til the first trimester is over and yet we are almost at the end of the first trimester and baby is still top secret. It started as a secret because I couldn’t think of a way to tell people. I want a cute announcement! Pinterest has made this be a big deal for me.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I feel like maybe that is the day I will share the news with the world at large. I still haven’t thought of a cutesy way to tell people but at the same time I guess it doesn’t matter. It matters that in September I get a baby. It matters that my family is already excited. It doesn’t matter that my Pinterest dreams might not come true.
I have spent a lot of time thinking about names. I’ve brainstormed character names, daydreamed about baby names, and even imagined my future name (Mrs. Robert Downey Jr. Anyone?). However, all those years spent brainstorming names (name storming) never really mattered. I worked myself up about them on occasion, but the names held no consequences. All that changed recently when I found out that this year I will get my own little nameless bundle of joy. Now all the name storming is serious. Now the lists have higher stakes.
Baby names are rough. They have to not encourage mean nick names, not leave your child with weird initials, go with your last name, and maybe somehow express your feelings or personality. That’s a big task guys. On my weak shoulders rest my child’s future… Well as far as names go. Names are associated with jobs and personalities and can seriously typecast a person!
I’m not going to even tell you my baby names. I promise you the list is shorter than I imagined it ever would be. Apparently I don’t like as many names as I thought. I worry my family will hate them, I worry my kid will hate their name, I worry my friends will wonder what I was thinking. Yall before you jump to cringe or giggle at a friends baby name STOP and remember that naming a human is hard. Your mom probably had to do the name game (banana nana fo fanna) to make sure you didn’t end up with a bad name, too. So be gentle friends.
Aka banana fanna fo fish