Monday, March 26, 2007

Pregnant Pause

This happened yesterday.

My Mom (on the phone with my sister in Dubai): No, we haven't given birth yet ... We're in Glorietta, walking Ate.

Hmph. Like walking the dog.


These last few days are a killer. Waiting is driving me nuts. Everyone keeps texting and calling--have you given birth yet? No. I haven't. Raine loves it too much in there, she hasn't even given notice of any plans to come out. No labor pains, no bags bursting, no mucous plugs, no bloody show. No bloody anything.

All the baby things are set up, even the crib with its carinderia-ulam-keep-the-flies-away-looking mosquito net. The tons of baby clothes are washed, linens out--all that's missing is the baby. Oh, just wanted to share: we are so, so blessed. The baby things are complete, and we haven't had to buy a single thing. Everything was lent, given or handed down. Isn't that amazing?

Anyway, I've been trying to walk around more, except it's been so hot! So we've been trying to go to the malls. Serendra/Bonifacio High Street is a great place to walk in the late afternoon. Not too many shops open yet, but the view is lovely and the breeze is nice. I love the Serendra area. If I had money, I wouldn't mind owning a unit there.

I'm really praying to give birth this week, before Friday. The Hubby says Thursday would be good--he'd be done with his projects by then. I think Raine is such a daddy's girl, listening to The Hubby instead of me. If I had my way, she would've been out Thursday last week!

It really is getting hard to sleep at night. Though I suppose I shouldn't complain, since when Raine gets here, I will hardly get any sleep! I'm always sleepy. Not like that's anything new. But I guess I should try to stock up on sleep, if possible.

I hate waking up with rheumatic hands though (or what I imagine rheumatic hands would feel like). It takes some time before I can grasp anything properly, because my finger joints hurt and can't bend properly. And my thumb/wrist really hurts! Sometimes hypochondriac me thinks it's de Quervain's syndrome or something. The Hubby is singularly unsympathetic.

I haven't seen my doctor in nearly a month. I guess she's really busy. When is peak season of births? I should be really glad and just take it as a sign that I am so ridiculously healthy and no-risk that she does not feel any urge to see me. The Hubby says I must have some Igorot blood in me (Igorots are a hardy mountain tribe--their women work in the fields even while pregnant, and at the proper time, go squat behind a bush, deliver the baby, clean up, rest a little, and go right back to the fields). I AM pretty sturdy. And tough. I like to whine, but I can take a lot. So thank you, Lord. And I mean it.

Obviously this post contains no real substance. Just a lot of whining from an impatient mother-to-be. And while we're on the topic of whining, might as well talk about my feet. Or these things that sort of resemble my feet. I seem to have solid but really fluffy-looking blocks of something; they don't even feel like flesh anymore. Putting them up doesn't help bring down the swelling. On bad days, even my legs and thighs seem swollen. Or it just be all that accumulated fat (oh the joy of eating!).

Oh well.

Sunday, March 04, 2007


Sometimes I don't recognize myself.

I look down and I don't even see my feet. I can't even see my bellybutton, or the area below it, unless I look in the mirror. The jokes about me swallowing a basketball, or a watermelon don't feel like jokes to me. Add the sometimes creepy, mostly fascinating undulations of my belly, the way its shape transforms from perfectly round to pointed to some other asymmetrical form, and it's like some alien attachment.

I guess it's a good thing this huge belly hides my feet. Because I don't think those fluffy, puffy, red-mottled, took-a-beating painful things down there are really my feet. If they were, they'd be slender, gracefully attached to ankles, then calves. Those swollen things down there seem to have gobbled up my ankles, leaving a roll of flesh instead. They have a mind of their own, cramping up, and egging my calves to cramp up as well. Usually in the middle of the night.

Joining them in that midnight rebellion are these things that used to be my hands. I wake up in the middle of the night with arms and hands that don't respond to my mental urgings. Instead, they freeze, claw-like, then retract, shooting pins and needles up and down my arms. In the daytime, I can't fully command them either. I can't open small bottle caps and those pesky aluminum packs because my finger joints hurt.

My nose, which I have to admit, has always been on the round side, is bigger, rounder and bright red. Like I stood under the noon sun with SPF75 on every part of me except my nose. My thighs and butt have accepted boarders, and are now happily living in crowded quarters under the shade of my belly.

The only new body parts that I do like are the boobs. Now these, I can live with. But when I give birth and start to breastfeed, I feel like I'll be giving up ownership too.

I miss the old me. Where am I?