Don't Ask and You Still Shall Receive

Not only are strangers oversharing with me now that I am visibly pregnant, but are also pouring on the unsolicited advice. Now I welcome the advice from my friends, but not necessarily the guy behind the deli counter at the supermarket, the woman in line in front of me at the tea house and especially not the weirdo that sat in the seat behind me on the plane the other day. This random man, after asking all the usual questions (see post below) felt the need to share the wisdom of his friend's doctor. He told me that if the baby can't sleep, he is probably cold and I should put gloves on him. Hmmm. Alrighty. No sooner did I take my seat before I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, which is no easy feat when my abdomen is completely squished by my fetus as are the rest of my insides. "I have another piece of advice," he said. I raised my eyebrows and he continued, "if the baby gets fussy, you should chop up some garlic and put it in his formula." I see. I smiled and nodded my head, not really having the energy to give the reply that was really in my head. What ass-backward planet is his "friend's doctor" from??? Oy.

Holy Boobs Batman

My boobs have completely taken over the planet. Not all sexy, Baywatch - Pamela Anderson-ish ,but in a National Geographic sort of way. I went bra shopping for the second time during my pregnancy and am now wearing a cup size I thought was only reserved for failing grades. No wonder why my back is killing me. I am surprised I do not tip over when I walk. I've been consistently warned that they will only get bigger once I start nursing. How far down the alphabet can I possibly go??? Make them stop! I think if my doctor tells me again that I am gaining too much weight (yes he really did say that to a hormonal pregnant woman), I am going to have him weigh each of my boobs.

TMI People!!!

So my husband turns to me the other day and says "your stomach is finally bigger than your boobs!" So, yes, I am at the stage where I am visibly pregnant and no longer getting the "is she pregnant or did she eat too much ice cream" looks from strangers. Instead, random people feel the need to discuss my pregnancy with me. The conversation always covers the following three topics, in this order:

-Do you know what you are having? Yes, its a boy.
-Have you picked out a name? No. (and if we did I wouldn't tell you anyways).
-When I/my sister/daughter/cousin/friend went into labor...(insert horror story)...

Ok, what on earth makes you think I want to hear this? Why, oh why, would you Mr. or Ms. Random Stranger, feel the need to tell me the gory, intimate details of a traumatic labor? That would be like someone telling me they are about to have surgery, and I go ahead and tell them the story about how last time I had surgery I woke up in the middle and heard the doctor yell "scalpel!" Not cool, man!

Paint Your Episiotomy

I've been trying all sorts of techniques to conquer my fears of labor, because we all know I am oh so stoic with pain, hospitals and the like. Guided imagery therapy, hypnobirthing, meditation- in my true fashion, I'm trying everything. My latest is a super crunchy natural birthing book I picked up at the suggestion of a few people in my yoga class. I appreciate the concept and thought I would dig this book, until it devoted three chapters on discovering your fears through birth art. The idea is to strengthen your conscious awareness and identify obstacles and inhibitions through art that may be "as raw and spontaneous as birth itself. " The book suggests that you take your art materials, such as pastels, sculpting tools and clay (already jumping to the conclusion that those of us that don't have artistic abilities beyond drawing happy faces actually own this stuff or would know what to do with it if we did) and creatively express yourself through drawing, painting and even dance. Suggested topics include "a womb with a view," "drawing on your animal" and "the opening." I see. Well, not really, but I digress. Upon sharing this with my best friend, her reply was, "what are you supposed to do, paint an episiotomy?" Apparently. How that is supposed to help, I have yet to figure out. And what are you supposed to do with that art? Hang it on your fridge next to your grocery list?

I think I am missing something.

London Bridges

Why is it that maternity pants keep falling down? I have surveyed other pregnant friends and apparently I am not the only one with this problem. I understand that they have to be stretchy, but haven't we advanced enough with technology to figure out how to design pants that stay up? I enjoy walking around with one hand yanking up my waistband all day like the messy kid in kindergarten. Really I do.

It's All the Rage

In an effort to combat my now raging heartburn, I compiled a list of every herbal remedy I found in the course of my research, however bizarre it may sound. I went to the herbal pharmacy and health food store and bought the following: chewable papaya tablets, papaya concentrate, aloe vera juice, charcoal tablets, slippery elm with marshmallow and fresh pineapple. Then I came home and took all of it at once. I felt better the next day, but now I have no idea what actually worked. Since some if it tastes like ass, it would be preferable to know these things.

It would probably help if I just stopped eating ice cream and chocolate, but that would be too easy.

Nachos Anyone?

So last night my hubby and I attended a natural pregnancy class hosted by three "goddesses," the nickname we have for the fabulous natural hippie women in our area. One goddess was nutritionist, another a midwife and the third a doula. There were many helpful suggestions that we took to heart, until the doula explained that one of the services she provides is belly casting. Huh? Now I've stopped dying my hair, I was wearing a flowy ethnic print skirt and didn't feel too out of place amongst the goddesses, but this was a level of which I was unaware.

Here is how it works. You buy plastering materials at the pharmacy, wrap it around your belly, plaster it and wait for it to harden and dry. The result is similar to a cast you would get for a broken arm, but in the shape of your womb. Now how am I supposed to keep a straight face? I didn't dare look at my husband or it would've been over, but unfortunately the man next to me had even worse composure. Once he stated burying his head with giggles than coughing to cover it up, I wasn't far behind. I was picturing people signing it and drawing flowers, but what does one do with something like this? Like I would hang this up in the kid's room next to the Ramones poster we bought for him? The doula did have some suggestions- you can decoupage it, turn it over and use it for a baby bassinet... My personal favorite though- one couple used it as a chip and dip set. Oh yes. Lets pose a question, shall we? What would you do if you went to a friend's house for dinner and they served you chips and dip in a belly cast? Perhaps nacho chips in the womb section, salsa in one boob and guac in the other. Seriously.