Since I figured out that lifting was what was causing my painful contractions (I always preface contractions with 'painful,' because these weren't your run of the mill Braxton-Hicks tightenings that you feel, but are not supposed to be painful), I've been able to avoid lifting to the point where I haven't had any contractions in quite a few weeks. I was beginning to question myself about them: did you really have them? Were they really that painful, or were you just overreacting?
Well. Enter two year old son. I was dressing him for bed and he was struggling because he didn't want to get ready for bed. He was lying on his back on the floor in front of me and as a part of his protest he lifted both legs up over his head and slammed them down on my belly. It hurt so bad! I grabbed his ankles and gave him a stern "No!" and The Mommy Look. He said, "Okay!" so I let go, and he wound up and did it again rapidly, twice in quick succession. Why didn't I move out of the way? I'm very pregnant. Moving is no longer something that has anything to do with the word 'rapid.'
Those contractions came back with such a vengeance that I could barely, hardly, crawl to my bedroom four feet away and lie on the floor there. I was trying to get to my bed but there was no way. Brent took over wrestling the two year old and putting the mob to bed, while I lay on the floor and breathed. This was actually not really like a contraction but more like an enormous charley horse in my uterus! It lasted for over ten minutes. And wiped me out for the rest of the night. I fell asleep on the couch again, watching t.v., and got totally freaked out about the prospect of going through labour again. The next day the Feminist Breeder posted a video of a baby crowning and being delivered; I couldn't watch the video but even the still shot that shows before you press 'play' was enough to make me faint with dread.
It's so hilarious how an experience like giving birth can be so positive and empowering and intense but at the same time make me naseous with fear as the prospect of it approaches ever nearer and feels much more real with the two year old's induced charley horse. Yikes! I'm too tired to grapple with the demands of labour. I'm too old. I'm too wimpy. I don't want to. I'm afraid. [said the birth nut].
On the flip side it's surreal to me that I'm so close to completing my reproductive stage in life. I mean, anything could happen on the other side of the "we're DONE having kids" plan, but if all goes according to plan this baby will be my last, and then, well, that's odd. I've anticipated having babies for so long and now been immersed in the world of having babies for so long, that it's weird to be eleven weeks from the other side of finished.
There's not even a metaphor I can think of to describe it. It's just anticipation for 25 years, having babies for 8 years, and then in a heartbeat, we're done. It will feel odd. It already feels that way.
Gestational diabetes update: still haven't found the magic snack. Will try 1 cup veggies, 1 glass milk, and hummous tonight. Will try steel cut oats again tomorrow if that doesn't work. Will try getting up at 2:30 a.m. to eat protein snack if that doesn't work. Will cry in despair if that doesn't work.
And Christmas Goody Season is a bitch when you have gestational diabetes, let me TELL YOU. Everywhere I go, there are sugary chocolaty carbohydrate rich dessert foods surrounded by oranges. Everything off limits. And then my kids bring home candy enriched gingerbread houses. And my book club christmas party hosted at my house was a cheese and chocolate fondu party, everything off limits AND me starving because it was in my own house AND: AND everyone left their forbidden-to-me FOOD at my house after the party, including bread and chocolate and red licorice and angel food cake OH MY GOD!
We went to Brent's work Christmas party last night and there was lots of food I can eat, and fruit on the dessert table and I ate too much of everything I'm allowed to eat and we at late (around 8 pm) so I was at a loss: do I eat my bedtime snack at 11:30, or not? Apparantly not, because I did and my sugar was 6.1 this morning. I am so damn tired of eggs, nuts, chicken breast, and vegetables, let me tell you. And rice. I have never really liked rice, but brown rice is one of the carbohydrates I'm supposed to have (I had one day where I had not eaten enough good carbyhydrates the previous day and I had ketones in my urine and felt like I had the flu or was simply a bag of shit warmed over: fortunately Riley was very game to play around on the living room floor and watch t.v. all day while I recovered on the couch. NOT doing that again!) so I'm sick of brown rice, too.
Pray hard for my fasting blood sugar. It doesn't look good.