A Little Bit of Mystery...Gone

April 02, 2011

A Little Bit of Mystery...Gone

I am now physically unable to view my feet while standing. It was an exciting day at work when I found this out. Some co-workers applauded! Doug's reaction was more of a sarcastic comment involving the size of my (10.5) feet. What a big sweetie.

Here's what I actually see.

Speaking of belly, this kid is MOVING. I mean nonstop. Which is fabulous, keeps my anxieties at bay, but as of two weeks ago, we had begun to feel his head, elbows and knees when he sticks them out to make room. I say "we" because this is a group activity - you can see and feel that my stomach is awkwardly extended in one area. The first time this happened was just after our Minnesota shower and I made Mr. Dickhut feel Pip's head. So creepy! The other day Doug and I were walking back from the doctor's office (what else is new) and Pip kept poking and poking, so I tried to push his elbow and/or knee back in but he pushed against me. This kid is gonna be obstinate.

I'm walking around with a camera just in case I can catch a moment (for you, Mrs. Kane).

Rumpy is deflating. It's taking some time, but shoot, as long as he's decreasing in size, I'm one happy Mama. I've really got to put an end to naming things in my body. Doug asked me the other day how "he" is doing and I had to ask which "he" he meant - Pip or Rumpy. My mother says I'm going to be giving birth to twins. I may end up as one of those people who names their skin tags. Because there are so many of us out there.

Anyway, Rumpy is going down due to some aggressive measures. Every morning I wrap a warm water compress around a (water-resistant) heating pad and apply it to my bottom for about 15 minutes. Every night I in a sitz bath. Or as I call it, "taking a sitz." Have you ever heard of these? It's a tub that goes in your toilet. You hook an IV-like bag to it, fill both with hot water and burn your biscuits for about 20 minutes. I just take a book into the bathroom and call out to Doug for time checks every 5 minutes. It does take a little productivity out of the evening, because I must take a shower prior to sitzing - yes, I want to clean myself before I sit in the toilet. I realize it makes no sense, but this is my procedure and it's working, goshdarnit. (Truthfully - the tub doesn't touch the inside of the toilet, so it's not a dirty practice. Just clarifying).

It also takes a little mystery out of our relationship. I once read this magazine article about how to keep your love alive in a marriage and one of the tips was to keep some mystery. The example the woman gave was that she doesn't allow her husband to watch her dance around struggling to put on pantyhose. Sugarpie, please. I lost the mystery with Doug the minute I showed him a stick that I peed on. Or the minute I said, "Can you look at this?" and he took his first ever glance at Rumpy I. Or the minute Rumpy I burst all over the doctor's cot and that same doctor made him watch. Or...I could go on and on. Either way, me standing up off the toilet-sitz bath with a baboon-like red derriere is not a picture my husband probably wishes he could ever see again. Sister, if keeping your husband out of the room while you put on pantyhose (which, by the way, they still sell?) is the way your marriage stays strong, more power to you.

But it's not all unproductive. While compressing, I lay in bed and do my breathing exercises (hee hee hee hooooo), and while sitzing, I try to read baby books. Because I am an efficiency master.

Here it is.

I have also lost complete control of all my limbs. I was always a tad uncoordinated, but even I am impressed with my lack of extremity management brought on my pregnancy.

So is Doug.