First childbirth class

We watched several childbirth videos in class tonight. The women were surprisingly tolerant of their husbands, one of whom was saying "Good girl!" to his wife the whole time. Also, the babies were pretty ugly. In the midst of learning how to breathe through contractions, Peter and I decided two things about how we plan to cope with the intensity of birth and the immediate period afterwards.

First off, he is going to utilize an "assess-a-hand" prior to touching me while I am in labor. This will prevent him from experiencing direct and debilitating bodily harm.



Second, if our baby should come out looking like this:

I am to repeat the following mantra, "Fake it and feed it...fake it and feed it," thereby allowing time to pass during which hopefully the fetus will morph into a gurgling adorable baby. You can tell I am worried about the attachment process. Currently my relationship with the fetus consists of asking her, in my most maternal way, to please remove her heel from the right lobe of my liver. So, until the maternal urges kick in (what hormone does that? Can I get injections?) you all know the words I'll be repeating.

By the way, I'm sure all the existing moms reading this blog are protesting that I will love her immediately and fantastically, no matter what she looks like. I'll have to take your word on that one.

Snowstorm!

No, not that kind. Our snowstorm involves an eighty-pound 11 year old labrador mix, who has a little too much undercoat for her own (or anyone else's) good. We are choking on dog hair. Despite our diligent brushing and vacuuming efforts, we still look like abominable snow people. Here is a visual for you. She looks so innocent, but during the day, she purposefully sleeps on Pete's pillow.



Brina, the abominable snowdog, has also decided that, in her older years, she should not be required to pee on wet ground. Hence, she refuses to go outside if it is so much as drizzling. Her record for not pooping has been set over the last week: approximately 3 days of holding her bowel for the sole purpose of not getting her valuable doggy feet wet. (Nevermind that this is the dog who rolls in cat shit.) In this picture, she is looking composed sitting in our kitchen surveying her land but refusing to set foot on it.



We are doing well, starting to accumulate stuff for baby. I am starting to huff going up stairs and walking around town. It's amazing how much SPACE this kid takes up. The gurus on babycenter.com tell us she weighs as much as a chinese cabbage: about 2.25 lbs. Head to toe, she's almost 14 inches long. Lately at 3 am, she's taken to trouncing on my bladder. I can see how this would be fun - a sort of fetal practical joke. I wake up, bolt out of bed and barely make it to the bathroom. I picture the little one silently laughing her ass off.

Here's Pete practicing with Oscar. Don't be fooled: Oscar is already plotting his revenge as I write.



And here's the 7 month belly shot (3rd trimester - woohoo!). I have that look on my face most of the time.



Otherwise in my world, all is well. Work is pretty mellow, although I am constantly fending off the staff, all of whom are mothers and love to try to pat the belly. :) Lifting dogs to the exam table is getting a little harder. I've requested stools in the exam room, and I make liberal use of them. Clients are starting to notice my belly, and are generally mortified if their dog jumps on me, which I think is cute. I have only gotten support and enthusiasm from the community up in the McKenzie valley. It is certainly a nice place to work.

Hope everyone else is doing well and enjoying fall. I am thrilled, along with the rest of Eugene, at the outcome of the election. I feel as though our baby is going to be born into a world with a little more hope.

Much love!
Liz