Monday, May 10, 2010

It Takes a Village

So. Mother's Day*. We went to my sister-in-law's for a dinner with our family and her in-laws. Lots of mothers. Lots of small children. And so very much assvice.

"You will want to have an epidural. Just plan on it."
"You'll definitely need an episiotomy. They'll probably give you one."
"Leave the baby overnight with family as soon as possible."

And so on. These are wonderful, thoughtful, helpful women and I do appreciate that they are interested and willing to help, but sweet fancy Moses, can it with the unsolicited assvice. I have a doctor who went to medical school and everything, and I am fully literate and have begun reading all the "How to Not Kill Your Baby Accidentally" books for myself. I even signed up for childbirth and breastfeeding classes today. I hope I get a certificate to prove I graduated to "fully competent to make my own damn decisions"!

I may have been primed for a little irritation at the perceived third-party hostile takeover of my wombfruit and relevant related decisions therein, because I spent the first half of the day writhing in unslept, uncomfortable, totally constipated agony. Just when I thought constipation was a thing of the past, it jumped out of the bushes -- "Gotcha, bitch!" I broke down and cried, y'all. Over poop. KB earned another notch on his husband of the year belt (lord knows the poor bastard isn't getting any kind of notches on the bedpost, peeps) when he went out to score some hippie-type juice with wheatgrass. No stubborn turd can stand up to mothereffin' wheatgrass. And so it worked, and my tears dried up, and I got purdied up to go have my belly and contents thereof ogled by a room full of women all done with their childbearing, and so eager to plan mine. I scored some hand-me-down stuff that they brought by just for me, so I am super grateful for that (free books, clothes, bibs, and the like). But really, ladies, the assvice? You can keep.

Then today I had the nervous shits all morning (what is it with me and the scat?) before my level 2 ultrasound and anatomy scan. Maybe it was residual wheatgrass. Unlikely. OB appointments make me anxious, because they are the only timepoints at which anything bad can be revealed. Fortunately, the bebe is fine, my placenta looks nice, my cervix is long and closed, and the doctor is pleased with my weight gain and what he apparently considers to be reasonable control of my pregnancy symptoms (whatever, dude -- let's see you manage this for 5 months and counting and tell me it's reasonable). And I signed up for classes that will teach us all about birthin' the baby and feeding it and whatnot, in August. I have to call the hospital to sign us up for a tour of the fancy-pants birthing center. I read online that they have whirlpool tubs in every room, and all rooms are private. Rock on.

Here's the kid either sucking a thumb or flipping us all the bird:
And here bigfoot (everyone in KB's family has enormous feet) proves s/he is ready to kick ass:
I'm starting to get attached to this squirmy little kid.

*Flowers did appear. Point scored.


'Murgdan' said...

Love your pictures.

...and good for you for being social, even if the assvice followed. I, myself, was so sick of the assvice I just pretty much withdrew from society and stopped telling anyone anything.

But I'm antisocial like that.

kmina said...

Assvise is the fabric that holds society and its basic cells together. It expresses care, concern that you will mangle up even the most basic of activities, worry that you will not be able to face the music, superiority that they were able to do anything thankyouverymuch, condescension to open your eyes, unwanted pieces of info, etc.

My MIL, who is a textbook nutso who hates me, told me, condescendingly, of course, 'Don't ware anything that might squeeze in your belly'. That was when she asked me if I still fitted my normal clothes and I told her that I had been wearing maternity clothes for a month.

And I am supposed to keep calm and carry on.

I can only wish you a LOT of patience, because the assvice has only just begun.

hope4joy said...

The pics are great. Isn't it funny that people offer up all kinds of advice when you don't ask for it? I guess you can either indulge them or tell them to shut it.

bunny said...

Beautiful baby, lady! That's really kinda mindblowing!

I hope you just responded to all the assvice with "ABSOLUTELY, YOU BETCHA!"

My days have centered on bowel movements lately, so I can relate to the notion of weeping over constipation. It's awfully cruel! I'm glad there's a nice hippie solution. Perhaps the wheatgrass maker would like to label it "Turdbuster".

jenicini said...

Look at the munchkin! Love the pics and stories about poop--hey, you gotta keep it real! These are the things no one tells you!

I can't remember, are you finding out what you are having?

JB said...

Murgdan -- I venture out in to public about once per 2 weeks. Usually to get food for lunch when nothing in my fridge looks appetizing. I go to family events rarely, to appease my husband only. Otherwise, I am totally on board with being a shut-in. For years to come.

Re: the assvice, I just nodded and smiled through most of it but did object to the notion (backed up by opinion only) that having an episiotomy is good and holy and better than not having one. Cause I rock the PubMed and I know that a recent study showed that women who have episiotomies have a greater incidence of grade 4 tearing. (This was disputed by the dental hygienist mommy, whose education apparently qualifies her as an expert on ALL orifices.) I find it uncool to risk having myself torn a new asshole during delivery, so I am happy to not have an episiotomy and just take my naturally-earned stitches like a champ.

And Jenicini -- we did not find out the gender. After the scan I asked the OB if the u/s tech coded the gender in my chart, in case she had seen it herself, and he said there was no code. Sneaky me, right? Either the tech was super cautious and didn't even look for potential baby junk, or the OB fibbed to keep me honest.