BDR has taken to wedging herself firmly under my right ribcage. I've tried to explain to her that there is a lot of other room in that ever-expanding uterus of mine, but she seems somewhat recalcitrant. (Well, I assume she's recalcitrant. She could be afraid to try out new spaces. Or, she could be stuck.)

The result of BDR's current favorite hiding spot is that I feel as though my ribs are cracking from the inside out, as they are expanding to accomidate her growing girth. It is exactly as pleasant as it sounds.

Another side effect of BDR's growth trajectory is the fact that several of my essential organs (think: stomach, esophogus, liver) are now jammed up in a small area just under my breastbone, and are kind of bulging out. I'm pretty sure I can feel my esophugus when I touch that area between my two sets of ribs, which is exactly as creepy as it sounds.

Ug. I really can't think of it.

birth class, day 4 (now with more rantiness)

I want to preface this post by saying that we in no way were hoping to make friends in our birth class. If it happened, that would be cool, but really, we just wanted to know how to pop BDR out when the time was right. (That's not entirely true; mostly, we wanted to know when the time was right to pop out BDR as to avoid delivering her on the side of the highway.)

Last night, we began talking about pain medications during the birthing process. We were given a chart (Clarifying Your Feelings About Pain and Medications in Childbirth), and told to place ourselves on the +10 to -10 point scale.

Click on image to view larger size.

The chart actually is pretty hilarious, as +10 means "I want to be numb and receive anesthesia before labor begins," and -10 means "I do not want medications, even for a cesarean delivery." The chart helpfully points out that these are "impossible extremes."

Anyway, I selected -5: "I really don't want to use pain medications so that I can avoid the side effects to my baby, my labor, and myself. I will accept them, though, if labor is complicated or very long." It summed up my attitude pretty much exactly, in that I would prefer to not use pain medication, but if I'm looking at 36 hours of labor, it might be nice to take a nap.

Kevin, for his own reasons (mostly because I'd already selected -5), opted for -7: "I really want to have a natural birth for personal gratification along with the benefits to my baby and my labor. I will be disappointed if I use pain medications."

I was honestly surprised when we were the lowest on the scale. I had imagined that someone else would select a -5; I had no idea that many women were up at +7: "I want anesthesia as early in labor as my healthcare professional will allow, preferably before labor becomes painful."

Really, if that's your attitude, it's not clear to me why you're taking a birthing class. Why not just schedule a c-section and get it over with?

Anyway, on our drive home, Kevin and I had the following conversation:

Kevin: I don't think the teacher hates us any longer.*
Amy: Really?
Kevin: Yeah, I think she liked the questions we asked.
Amy: That's good.
Kevin: Do you ever get the sense that the rest of the birth class hates us?
Amy: Hmm. I don't think they care enough to hate. I think they just don't know what to make of us.
Kevin: Yeah, I guess.
*Up until yesterday's class, we both really believed the birthing teacher hated us, despite my employ of every suck-up-to-the-instructor technique I know, including furious head nodding and keeping off-topic questions to myself.

Often, Kevin and I wonder what it would have been like to take a birth class back in Chapel Hill/Carrboro rather than in Palo Alto. We both suspect it would be...if not "better," then at least more "our speed."

It turns out our birth class is very representative of the overall demographic of this area. That is: it's YuppieTown. I mean seriously, hard-core YuppieTown. Which means that KJ and I stand out rather obviously from the other seven couples in the class, if not in appearance, but by some of the things we say and do.

For example: we're the only ones who don't know the sex of our baby. Apparently, Yuppies cannot abide by this, as they don't know what color to paint their nursery.

Speaking of nurseries, Yuppies have to consolidate their two home offices into one when the baby arrives. The would never consider having an infant in a small one-bedroom condo and tucking the baby into the dining alcove. They might consider referring us to Child Protective Services if they caught wind of our plans.

Yuppies are very concerned that they have finished their registries at Pottery Barn Kids (and the like). Also, they are very much flustered when the stroller that they have to have is out of stock, because every other Yuppie family on the Peninsula is buying the same one.

And, most relevant to last night's topic, Yuppies don't see any reason why they ought to experience any pain or discomfort in childbirth at all. As one Yup put it, "I won't feel any closer to my baby if it hurts a lot to get him out." Fair enough, but still...

Every class we're learning something. Sometimes, it's about childbirth.

birth class, day 3

Kevin is doubting what his role in labor might be, just as I'm turning the corner on my labor fears.

during class:
Birth Class Instructor: A woman doesn't change her spots in labor. If she's the type to turn inward and not ask for help, then that's what she'll do during labor.
Kevin (aside, to me): Then why am I even here?

later, on the drive home:
Amy: I'm sure you'll have lots of stuff to do during labor. Remind me to go to the bathroom, give me Popsicles, remind me to breathe and not clench my jaw. That's a lot of stuff to do.
Kevin: Yeah, but it's like you're Michael Jordan and I'm Steve Kerr. No, that's not a good analogy. Steve Kerr actually made some game-winning shots.
Amy: I'm not Michael Jordan. I'm more like Kobe Bryant.
Kevin: I was trying to think of someone more selfish than Michael Jordan and Kobe just popped into my head.

So it's not that I'm unwilling to accept help during labor, but both Kevin and I doubt my capacity to request help - just the way Kobe would be willing to receive a pass, but not hand out the assists.

I keep reminding Kevin that his job is to make sure that I'm well stocked with Popsicles. I'm actually ridiculously excited for the sheer numbers of Popsicles I suspect I'll down during my 36 hours of labor.

Also, Kevin's probably reached his limit for birth videos. Today we watched three births, and at the start of the second birth he moaned, "I don't want to see this woman's vagina." Poor guy.

everyone's Ann Landers

Little kids are fascinated by pregnancy. It's a fact. And, really, I think little boys might be even more fascinated than little girls. (The jury's still out, but it's a theory I'm working on.)

Today, I was offered some advice that kind of broke my heart, from a little girl named Ana Sofia. Our conversation:

Ana Sofia: Can I give you some advice?

Amy: Sure.

Ana Sofia: You should remember to breathe. Once when my mom was pregnant she didn't breath and she fainted.

*** at this point, I'm thinking, "wow, this actually is some good advice, and from a 5 year old!"***

Ana Sofia: And then when she had her baby, the baby wasn't breathing, and my little sister died.

Amy: (moment of shocked pause) Oh, wow Ana Sofia, I'm really sorry to hear that, but thank you for sharing, and that is really good advice.

Wow. That was pretty tough, and really unexpected.

hiccups

Last night, while we were reading in bed, BDR had her first set of fetal hiccups.

At first Kevin and I thought she was dancing to Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of the Cure (specifically, "Just Like Heaven"). But the kicks started coming just a little regularly, so hiccups it was.

Speaking of the Rockabye Baby! albums, they're actually quite nice. My parents gave us the Beach Boys at Christmas, and Kevin recently added the Cure, Radiohead, and Led Zeppelin to the collection. We'll also be adding Nirvana, the Beatles, the Pixies, the Ramones, and U2 in coming months. The release of Baby Pixies coincides with BDR's release date...coincidence?

(I should note my mother refused to buy Baby Led Zeppelin as she said it was "scary" and "disturbing," but take a listen to the samples on the website: they're actually kind of nice! Really, when you arrange rock music with xylophones, glockenspiels, and keyboards, how scary can it be?)

birth class, day 2

It seems fitting that since love got us into this mess, we'd have a birth class on Valentine's Day.

Last night's session was full of great insights. For example:

- The only thing you can take for the pain when labor starts? Ice cream.

- During the "active" phase of labor, your wife no longer will laugh at your jokes. (Kevin: But what if she never laughed at them to begin with?)

- You can tell what stage of labor a woman is in by looking at her face. During "transition," the most painful phase, she looks like this:
As you can tell, there's a lot of anger and pain in this picture. My favorite part are the tears.

- Kevin should give me lots of foot massages. In fact, that's his homework!

- And, most curiously: the baby will be given an ankle monitor to prevent her from being stolen. I suppose this is reassuring, but mostly it makes me think my baby's being tagged for sale at a store...

birth class, day 1

Tonight was our first birth class at the Medical Foundation. It's interesting to note that of the 8 couples there, we were the only ones who didn't know the sex of our baby. More interesting, however, was the tremendous difference in my reaction from Kevin's reaction to the material presented.

When examining a poster depicting a 35-week pregnant woman.
Kevin: Your body is so cool.
Amy: Um, why is my stomach behind my breasts?

This is what I currently look like, organ-wise. The stomach is making its upward creep. Note the location of the liver. Aye caramba!

Or, during the cheesy "Stages of Birth" video.
Kevin: Childbirth is so cool.
Amy: The video made me want to cry. I could cry now just thinking about it.

We did learn a few important tips, though. For example: our baby will probably come out looking like a deformed, gooey, bluish alien. Cutting an umbilical cord will feel "crunchy." While in the first stage of labor, you should go for a hike.

I feel so much more prepared already.

Baby Davis-Ross, Preview Edition #3

The last week of Trimester Two.
27 weeks down, 13 to go.

bring on the pixie sticks

Yay! No gestational diabetes, and some "very slight" anemia. So far, sailing remains remarkably smooth.

well-wishes

From a well-intentioned 8 year old: "I hope your baby comes out."

Feel free to read it two ways.

Either, "I hope your baby sometimes escapes the confines of your abdomen, as it is clear you are increasingly uncomfortable and heavy of breathing."

Or, "I hope your baby turns out well, like a nicely risen and baked loaf of bread."