Blog a la Cart

As the title of this post would suggest, SCIENCE WORKS!

I guess there was something to James’ claims of rest and recuperation.

Exactly 2 weeks after I received the GO GETTUM TIGER! smiley face, I peed in a cup, and then dipped a stick in that cup – because allegedly peeing on the stick directly was going to F some shit up – and received the thumbs up that it was time to ditch caffeine, liquor and warm, toasty baths. And immediately time to wash my hands.

I find the baths the most difficult of those to give up. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, worse than a tepid bath. 9 months of tepid baths? Worse than needing to pee every 15 minutes while crippled with nausea and lacking the desire to eat what are commonly your most favorite foods on planet earth (read: cheese, cheese, pasta, cheese) and instead opting for things like pickles paired with clementines, or mustard and white bread, or sauerkraut straight outta the can.

Pregnancy, you are a weird, fucked up trip indeed.

I kept this new condition from infiltrating this here blog for a good 5 weeks, but decided that with the chiming of the New Year, it was time to herald in a new stage of writing here at Blog a la Cart. That of maternity. Of bloating. Of nipples turning dark as burned pancakes. Of vaginal examine after vaginal examine. Of bulging waistlines. Of mucus plugs.

And here my mother was beginning to feel as though things had “calmed” down in my writing. Less biology. Less fluid. Less outrageousness.

Sadly for all of you, things have taken a turn back toward the outlandish.

Because there is no wilder adventure than that of pregnancy, labor & delivery, and infancy. Sweet mother of god. Writing that just really brought into focus the insanity that is our lives because of that dang smiley face.

A wonderful, ridiculous. joyful kind of insanity, but insanity nonetheless.

The thought of Addison as a big sister is enough to make my heart swell 10,000 times and nearly pass out from happiness.

We are just that. Happy.

The news was the perfect early Christmas present, and made for an even-more exciting NYE, filled with anticipation of what this year has in store.

I’m due August 12th, which means I am going to be one cranky, sweaty whale lying about the Berkshires come summer. Melville wouldn’t have needed these mountains with what I’m about to bring to the yard. I could be his Moby Dick.*

This week, we met with the midwifery practice I’m going to see for my care, and I immediately fell in love with everything those women represent. Unlike in LA, where I was an anomaly patient to my doctor, wanting such craziness as natural, unmedicated childbirth with a 4 page, single spaced, 10 point font birth plan, I am a typical, ordinary, run of the mill pregnant lady to this practice.

They’re located in Vermont. I shouldn’t act like I’m surprised in the least.

I described my L&D with Addison to the midwife, and she looked at me, wide-eyed, mouth agape, and said:

“You pushed out a 9 lb plus baby, POSTERIOR, in under 20 minutes, without any medication?”

“Yep. It was hell. I don’t think I can go through that kind of pain ever again.”

“Well, I know I’ve known you only 15 minutes, but honey, you could piss out a 10 pounder after that experience.”

No more reassuring, comforting words have ever, EVER been spoken.

But let’s hope this one’s not a 10 pounder, eh?

Please.

*Melville is said to have taken part of his inspiration for Moby Dick from the view of the mountain from his house in the Berkshires, since its snow-covered profile reminded him of a great white Sperm Whale’s back breaking the ocean’s surface. (Now there’s some trivia for you. Keeping it educational here at Blog a la Cart. Sometimes.)