Hypno-whosiwhats

We'll start this blog with a cute, but dorky funny story courtesy of the big brother to be. So, remember back in the day when I was whining about restless legs at night and had to start taking some medicine? Well, the other night, Will comes out of his room, while we're totally engrossed in Idol (as engrossed as you can be this season) and says, "I'm having a bad night, mama. I just can't go to sleep. My body just won't stop going." Knowing that the little rascal hates going to bed and will come out of his room at least a couple of times a night with one excuse or another to make sure we aren't having fun without him, we sent him back to bed and continued vegging on the couch, adding to our BMI's. The next night, he comes out again and says, 'I'm having another bad night. I just can't go to sleep. My legs just want to keep moving all night (he's been in his room 3 minutes). I think I might need some IRONING pills."

Light bulb moment. This is hilarious to us because he's been feigning restless legs and heard me talking about the iron pills I was taking to combat it and decided to see if this could get him out of bedtime. After Will's request, we, of course, put him back to bed sans ironing pills, but it wasn't a matter of minutes before the hubby mentioned that someone else might benefit from ironing pills, given the fact that I couldn't really tell you what our ironing board looks like or how to turn on the iron. It's not my fault I don't believe in high maintenence clothes and won't purchase anything that may need to be ironed or dry-cleaned...ever.



Anywho, so one of my pals (who has birthed two nordic giants sans epidural) gave me a book on hypnobirthing, which I've been making my way through. I know, I know, it sounds a little anti-medicine, but I'm open to at least learning about other ways of doing things even if I don't plan to employ them. So, I'm reading this book and not all of it is total nutjob preaching, which is surprising and enlightening. They play a lot of captain obvious, telling you how chicks in third world countries who are pregnant feel themselves go into labor, find a nice sturdy wall, lean against it while crouching down and deliver their own baby and go own about their travels. Does this happen? Dunno, but it kind of makes sense. Would you want to be the next person to lean against that wall while waiting for the bus? Nope. Puke. Yes, the magic of epidurals and modern medicine is lacking from this story, but you can't dispute the fact that it sounds a lot more tolerable than the cinema-made-famous scene of the screaming, crazy spaz crowning in a modern birthing suite screaming 'you did this to me' at her schmo of an inseminator.



My plan has always been to head to the hospital for my epidural when I was, oh, a half centimeter dilated. Now, I'm wondering if I couldn't hold off a bit. They talk alot about fear being the root of the pain and the perception of the impending pain causing a lot of reactions that do indeed lead to the sensation of pain. All of this, physiologically makes sense, but then why does everyone in this country think that labor should be and is psychotically painful? There's a lot of massage and relaxation techniques taught in the book which every person, pregnant or not, could benefit from. Don't worry, I'm not going to go all Gisele on you and climb into a tub, sneeze out my baby and claim I never needed maternity clothes. I, after all, am not a Victoria's Secret model. I am, however, going to try to remind myself that it might not hurt and that I might not need an epidural and that chicks do this all the time, so why should it be more difficult for me than them. Hopefully, this thinking gets me to at least 3 cm before I squeeze my hubby's livelihood hard enough to have him calling for my epidural.



Another book, more like a collection of really short essays, I been thumbing through is Jenny McCarthy's Belly Laughs, or something like that. I'm a little dismayed by anything she does since the whole autism and vaccinations thing, but I gave it a shot. It's funny in parts, which isn't surprising, given her generally fun and crazy personality...at least what I've seen on TV. Unfortunately, the 'chapters' are on average 4-5 pages long and don't really get into whats going on besides, 'Yep, I have discharge and it's a lot and it's gross.' She's made a ton of dough on this book and I kind of am in awe her publicist for that one. I need to get that man's name.

So, on the bean front, we have our 20 wk ultrasound in the next week or so and it's on the kickass high def machine so we'll have some new sweet pics to post of his highness. We're painting the nursery green this weekend and grabbing some furniture in the next couple of weeks, I'm planning. He's still as ADD as ever and moves non-stop, especially at night, which hopefully is not a trend he plans to continue once he vacates the belly. John has been able to feel it through the belly once by mashing so hard I'm not sure if he's feeling my heartbeat through my aorta or the little man practicing his freekicks. (just kidding) I quit having heart-attack-inducing cravings but have gained about 8-10 lbs so far which is a little much for this early, but whatev. Once I proclaimed that I didn't care what happened to my body as long as my baby got everything it needed to be healthy, my body was listening and responded 'you betcha, sucker' and started piling on the pounds quicker than Kirstie Ally. It's actually getting to the point where I'm full after only eating a kidsize serving so I'm either going to quit gaining weight eventually or start developing some killer stretch marks because my belly is as taut as all get out and not in the 'situation' kind of way.

To end on a funny, I'm sitting in clinic the other day, chatting up a 75 year old sweet old lady patient of mine. It went like this:

Her: So, you're married, have a new name and are having a baby. Do you know what it is?
Me: Yeah, it's a boy.
Her: Do you have a name picked out?
Me: Yeah, but I'm not telling anyone any more because I'm sick of people's inability to hide their hatred of my babies future handle.
Her: Well as long as you don't name it ______.
Me: Virginia, why would you say that? Did you talk to my nurses?
Her: No. My husbands, nieces, sister had a boy and named it _______ and all I could think was 'don't you love your child?'
Me: Virginia, I'm naming my kid ________.
Her: (turns to me) Don't you love your kid? There are plenty of good baby names out there, why don't you look some more.
Me: Virginia, that's what I'm naming him. It's interesting, just like your name. I love the name Virginia.
Her: Of course you do because you don't have the name Virginia. I hate my name. Why don't you find a _________ and ask him if he likes his name. Good luck with that.
Me: Virginia, I can't believe you said that.
Her: Well, no one said anything to my parents so I have to stick up for all the kids who are sure to get their ass whooped and it's all their parents fault.

I only ad-libbed a little and the rest of this came from a sweet little old bag who's one of my best patients. I can't wait to be old and be able to say whatever I want and everyone just says, 'she's so old and sweet and funny.' Needless to say, I'm not naming my future daughter Vagina...I mean Virginia.