Day of Rest

Saturday morning, I was scheduled to volunteer up at the X-Terra US National Championships at Snowbasin at 6 a.m.. Which I suppose explains why I was wide awake at 2 a.m.? I mean, who have I become? A 2 a.m. wake up is unacceptable behavior, and quite frankly, I'm appalled.

By 3:45 a.m., I had fixed myself two pancakes, updated my Facebook status, checked PunditKitchen.com, watched NCIS online and fed the cat who may have died of starvation had I not been there. I mean, it had literally been five hours since her last feeding... think of what could have happened!!!

The only thing missing was me actually getting dressed for the day. Which, let's face it... at 8 months pregnant, the longer I can lounge in my bathrobe on any given day, the happier I am. And the happier I am, the happier Benny is. It's just the way things work around here.

Benny finally got up at 5-ish, and we headed up to Pineview and the T1 area so I could check-in and Benny could get his bike set-up. Thus began a long, long, LONG day for me. One that pre-pregnancy - or even 6 months pregnant - would not have been a problem. Even with the waking up at 2 a.m.. But now? By the time we finally got home that afternoon, I was Stick-A-Fork-In-Me DONE.

I got about an hour of blessed sleep when we got home before Benny had to wake me up because the internet wasn't working and he'd invited some friends over to watch a Big Sky football game online. And it just might be the end of the world if they can't watch the game, babe! Someday, I'm gonna show him my secret trick of getting the internet to work... but it just feels so damn good to be needed, you know?

By the time our friends left that afternoon, I was toast... but we had to get ready for the Harvest Moon celebration downtown. Because someone had promised me ice cream. And, of course... when we got there, the ice cream shop was closed for the night and someone then had to promise me ice cream AND pudding the next night to prevent a nervous breakdown.

We only stayed downtown for an hour or so before I had to pull the Pregnant Card and make Benny leave the party early. Oh, and sidenote: I NEVER thought I would be that woman. But, seriously... pregnancy is NO JOKE. I can't remember the last time I felt well-rested. I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. And I know... I KNOW... that this is just the beginning. That I'll never sleep through the night again. That I'll never have that fully-rested feeling that I had during the first six years of marriage... and during college when I could sleep until noon. Flash forward to Saturday, and I'm the woman who makes her husband leave the party early because she's too tired to stay. It's such an unbelievable bummer, I don't think that unless you've lived through it and, I dunno, perhaps judged pregnant women who pulled this while you were blissfully un-fertilized with no responsibilities and didn't require a 2 hour nap every afternoon, YOU CAN POSSIBLY GET IT

The next day, Dr. Benny prescribed bed rest for me all day, while he set to work building a cat house for Nytro (which he did without one complaint, btw... how I lurve that man), an end table for the rocking chair in the baby room and a table for the printer to sit on in the office. All while I sat downstairs, watching NFL games while dozing in and out of conciousness. Is it just me, or does Frank Gifford have the kind of voice that can soothe even a rabid hippo (that would be me) into a deep slumber. Something his wife, Kathy, has NEVER been able to accomplish.

At the end of the day, I would say that I definitely got the better deal out of the whole Day of Rest. I didn't have to do a thing and when I woke up, had three new pieces of furniture! It's like I have my very own Pregnancy Fairy! That wears Carharts and safety glasses. And a dead sexy beard.

Bump Watch - Weeks 35-36

Really.... at this point, can we still call it a "Bump" Watch? Or should we give it a more fitting name? Like... Whale Watch? Lay-Off The Doritos Watch? Or, Remember When It Was Just A Bump Watch?

The last two weeks have been probably my least favorite of the whole experience. The first eight months of this pregnancy? Cake. With frosting. Of which I had not one, not two but THREE times at different baby showers that friends and family have thrown for us since August. And, yes... a full report on all three are upcoming. I'm just trying to find a pic amongst the many that were taken at the parties that doesn't include me breathing through my mouth, shoving a whole piece of cake into my mouth (while breathing through my mouth), or the bump obscenely featured in the pic... whether I wanted it to be or not. But, I guess that's what the parties were for, no? A celebration of the bump? And, by the way... I may have some of the greatest friends in the world for showing up to the showers. I mean, trust me... I KNOW that going to a baby shower loses its appeal after you're 18 - or, after you've been to 18 - so I was grateful to those who showed up to share in our excitement. Seriously... I think I've finally figured out why girls rock and realize that I actually have a lot of girlfriends. MUCH TO MY SURPRISE!!! Thank you, everyone!

But, I digress... where was I? The first eight months of pregnancy have been low-key. And even though in the last few posts I may have led you all to believe that I've been freaking out and having a meltdown every other day, that's not exactly true. That may have just been me exaggerating for a good story. Who woulda thunk it??? Although, the story about my meltdown in Babies-R-Us? Completely true. I will own it, as I believe that whenever you do truly lose your mind, you have to be held accountable.

And as smooth as the first 8 months have gone... as quickly as they have flown by for both Benny and I... I have to say that the last week? THE LONGEST IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

I've had plenty of friends who have had children and without fail, no matter if they had an easy pregnancy or not, I remember all of them saying the same thing about the final month of pregnancy. Time slows down. You start to really feel the pregnancy. You just want it to be over. Blah, blah, blah.

And I have to admit that whenever I heard them talk like that, I would appropriately sympathize with them (to their faces) while thinking to myself: Please. It's just one more month. How hard can that possibly be? I mean, you can do ANYTHING for a month. After eight months, what's one more?

What's one more? I'll tell you what one more is:

• More snoring, less caring that you're snoring.

• More waking up to ankles the size of your hip and toes the size of Wrangler Hot Dogs. The ones that plump when you cook them. Oh, they're cooked alright. They're. Cooked.

• More experiencing a pain in your booty whenever you sit on your office chair for more than 5 minutes.

• More wanting to punch the next person who tells you that most first-timer's don't deliver until at least five days past their due date. Which is a lovely thought. REALLY. Tell me some more about how I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER.

• More heavy breathing... and not the good kind. This heavy breathing is because your lungs are the approximate size of a pea. And your nose is stuffy. And swollen.
  

• More not fitting into your maternity clothes anymore, but not wanting to shop for any more because you only have four more weeks and because the changing rooms HAVE MIRRORS.

• More putting up with every woman - friend, foe, complete stranger - who feels the need to share with you her labor and delivery HORROR story. Because, look at me. Right now, I look like a woman who's totally calm about the whole thing. Better take me down a notch.

• More acne showing up randomly when you've had a relatively acne free pregnancy.

• More falling asleep each lunch break to Judge Alex, less caring that people know I actually watch Judge Alex at lunch.

• More acid reflux. Because five months of it isn't quite enough.

• More needing your husband to roll you out of bed in the middle of the night so you can use the restroom. Five times a night.

*Ahem*

In the good news area, I am so completely on top of everything on work, that I truly don't know what to do with myself in the office right now. I'm literally out of things to do, as I've cleared my calendar so well in preparation for the possibility of an early delivery (which, according to every woman in the free world is simply not possible and I might not give birth until week 45). But it is a huge help to my psyche to know that if the stars align and were I to go into labor this very second, no one at work would be put out too much. Oh sure... if something goes wrong while I'm gone, I fully expect to be blamed... that's what I would do if I were in there shoes. But knowing that I've done everything I need to do before maternity leave? Priceless. All I have to do is make it through this week of work, which includes two days of meetings in Park City, and it will be all downhill work-wise for me. And that's how I like both my marathons and my work!!!

Also in the good news department, Benny and I completed our birthing class last week and we feel just about as prepared as first-timers can possibly feel.

This week, Benny and I also got to see the Tweeter again. We had our 36 week appointment which included an ultrasound to check the position of the baby, and two required violations of my body. Really... I can't wait for labor and delivery and the soon-to-come violations. I had to go home and shower after the appointment. You can imagine how well I'm going to deal with being in the stirrups for hours when the Tweeter is born. Yowza.

Anyhoo, currently Tweet is head down right on top of my bladder... which explains the need to get up every 90 minutes to head to the restroom and pray for a miracle in that I actually will have urine to expel this time. Also, her cute little booty is shoved up against the right side of my rib cage and her legs are tucked on the left side of the uterus. She's constantly moving right now... so I guess there goes our hope for a chillaxy baby that doesn't really do a lot other than eat, sleep and poop until she's five, when she can then go to kindergarten and be the smartest kid in the school. Look at that?? Four weeks to go and already my dreams have been shattered for my child's future. Cuz that's how I roll right now, mkay?

This weekend was the big Mountain-2-Metro/X-Terra National Championship/Harvest Moon Festival here in Ogden. And yes... all of that went on at the exact same time and Benny and I were in the thick of it. We both volunteered for the Goal Foundation on Friday. Benny did a lot of set-up and I got to do body marking for all of the athletes. And let me tell you about those X-Terra pro's. They are no. joke. Hard-bodies... all of them. Which, when you're 8 months prego can make you feel a wee-bit LOSER-ish, and you can't help but accidentally-on-purpose knock them over with your big belly. Because what are they going to do? Get mad at the pregnant chick? Please.

As we were leaving the park after volunteering all day, we noticed a guy who had a 6-foot boa constrictor and was letting people hold it. Because, that's normal, right? It's a Friday... better take the boa constrictor to the park in case some pregnant chick there wants to freak out her husband.

Even more normal, I suppose, is the fact that a small brown spider on the wall will leave me in tears just for existing... but snakes? No big deal. A 6-foot boa constrictor? "Yea, hi! Can I hold it for a bump watch picture? THANKS!"

36 Weeks!

Tweet, meet Steve the Snake. Steve, meet Tweet. And Steve, I know you can smell Benny's fear from 6-feet away. It's not you. It's him. Well, it's him seeing his wife with a boa wrapped around her neck. And not the feathery kind.

Bump Watch - Weeks 33-34

So, it looks as though the expectation I had of posting once-a-week has been blown out of the water, and the best I can do is twice a month. Which, I suppose will have to do... considering that I've been so busy getting the house ready for Tweet and trying not to cry when I watch an ASPCA commercial that I've barely had time to update my Facebook status from Jaynee is going through The Daily Show withdrawals, to Jaynee just found ANOTHER grey hair... much less blog about my ever-expanding waist.

So, without further ado... I welcome you to Weeks 33-34.

The word for weeks 33 and 34 is: HORMONES

Really, it was a toss-up between hormones and nesting, until I started crying today for no good reason.

AGAIN.

I mean, let there be no doubt that I'm in full nesting mode... in both personal and professional life. I've had more than a few bees in my bonnet these last 14 or so days. Including cleaning the windows and screens in the house, forcing Benny to spray the house for spiders since I saw one last week (and where there's one, you know there's about to be an all-out seige by our eight-legged enemies) and re-organizing and re-constituting the pantry and spice cabinet.

That's right... we have a spice cabinet. Who knew? The spices have been organized and moved to a cupboard that allows me to see that yes, we do have fennel seeds (whatever THOSE were bought for) AND cream of tartar. So, we're pretty much set for life. And Tweet can be assured of an attentive mother and father that don't have to worry about whether or not we have access to some Alum. You know... in case we come across an obscure recipe that actually calls for it. Assuming that by the time THAT happens, it hasn't expired. Does anyone know... can Alum expire? Better yet, does anyone know WHAT Alum is and WHY in the world we have it?

But, I digress.

At work, I've been in a bit of panic mode trying to get everything organized so that when I'm out of the office for three months or so, things don't blow up and no one can blame me when something does blow up. Kind of like what I do with the interns. I've been this way ever since my girl Bernee sent me an email congratulating me on making it to week 34. Something about when she said: "Just remember, I had my first at 32 weeks, and my next three at 36... so you could go at ANY time."... well, it kinda set me off.

There was something else in there about making sure I get a lot of rest and blah, blah, blah... but I really cannot comment on andy of that because my brain exploded right there in my office and I spent the rest of the day cleaning up grey matter.

The good news is that all my files are in order, I've caught up on the last of the reports that needed to be written and were my water to break today, the only thing I would be stressed about is the fact that OH, RIGHT... WE'RE HAVING A BABY. Well, that and the fact that the required bag-o-goodies for the hospital stay has yet to be packed. Probably because I can't bend over to get the bag out from under the bed.

So, yes... nesting has been front and center these last two weeks. But, the hormones (which I do believe are also involved in the nesting) pulled ahead in the voting the last week or so. And can I just state for the record that I could really do without the hormonal breakdowns? ARGH!

Don't get me wrong... I've always been one for a good cry now and then. It cleanses and resets the system. Much like Benny's after nap showers. But yesterday when I started crying because I was soooo tired and just couldn't fathom doing anything BUT crying... which made me cry some more? RIDICULOUS. I mean, there's emotional and then there's "Geez, Nadolski! Get it together!!!"

I think that week 33 really marked the point where I'm officially uncomfortable. Like... REALLY uncomfortable. I don't sleep well at night. Because I wake myself up to turn over from my left side to my right side. And then inevitably have to empty my bladder because, you know... it's been five minutes. How I long for a night of tossing and turning... when you can do so without grunting or waking your husband up to help roll you over so that you can start snoring on your right side, instead of your left.

Oh? Have I not mentioned? Apparently, I've taken up snoring this week. And by "taken up", I mean that if snoring was an Olympic sport? Gold medal, baby.

I didn't know I was snoring, but I did know that I've got a little drainage as I'm fighting a touch of a head cold right now. And, I knew that I was having a hard time breathing at night since my lungs are currently the size of a standard chicken nugget. The ones without the hormones. But it wasn't until Benny handed me his phone the next day and asked me to listen to the recording he'd made that I realized that this... this is no good. Because when I listened to it, I asked him where he'd recorded a frog in heat in a swamp, with a chorus of other frogs and the sound of a river running in the background.

And the sad part about that story? COMPLETELY TRUE. I had no idea what I was listening to was my own snoring... and Benny's own personal nightmare. No wonder I can't sleep at night. Perhaps I'm not actually waking up to turn over. Perhaps I'm waking up when I swallow my tongue and don't get any air? It's anyone's guess. Personally, I'm wondering when Benny's going to throw in the towel and move to the bedroom downstairs to get away from the snoring. Unless he's a glutton for punishment and really wants to experience the pregnancy.

This week, I've noticed an increase roundness in the belly... as well as an increased itchiness. And it really doesn't matter where I am or who I'm with. If the belly needs itching, the belly needs itching. And if you can't handle a pregnant woman scratching at her large belly? Well, then... I FEEL SORRY FOR YOU.

34 Weeks!!

We did have a minor freak out last week... er, rather, I freaked out and Benny tried to be the voice of reason. If you can possibly imagine THAT scenario.

We went to our weekly check-up and I got the seasonal flu shot. That night, I didn't feel Tweet move even once. And she's usually quite the kicker around 9 p.m. But... NOTHING DOING. The Tweet was silent.

We had gone out with Shane, Krista, Supa, Dev and Emily(also known as The Skinny's) for some sushi at Sapa's in SLC and while everyone was laughing and having a good time... and at times touching Devin inappropriately just in time for a picture - because, really... how can you resist with that great beard of his? (see below)... all I could think was: The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. OMG... the flu shot! The flu shot killed her!!!

Because, this is how a normal person reacts.

The next day, after she still hadn't moved by noon, I called the doc and left a message. And, of course, as soon as I hung up, Tweety kicked back to life and everything's been good since then. This morning, in fact, I was convinced that rather that have the whole labor and delivery process, Tweet was planning on clawing her way out of the womb and fully expected her hand to stick out through my belly as she made her way out. I'll take that over the no movement freak out any day.

Benny and I have been hitting the pool to get a workout in and I have to admit that I LURVE it. It's the only time that I feel weightless and I can stretch some muscles that haven't been stretched in weeks. In fact, I love it so much, I will disregard the meltdown I had at the pool last week when I got there and realized I didn't have my swimsuit. And do you have any idea of the drama that unfolded poolside with Benny when that little piece of information was spoken aloud for the first time? It was a Sunglasses On Indoors moment... so no one would see me crying. Of course, the loud sobs gave it away.

Luckily, cooler heads (Benny's) prevailed and he was able to give me some workout shorts he'd worn for Boot Camp that morning, and I was able to wear a tank top in the water so I could get my swim on. Benny also made sure that I was covered by a towel when I got in and out of the water... since the tank top was a teeny, TINY bit see-through.

We also rode our bikes in the monthly Critical Mass downtown. Oh... and by the way, while I support Critical Mass and what it aims to promote, I don't think I'll participate in the future. Not because I was offended by anyone's behavior. Not because I think that it's too big and should not be allowed on the road. No... I'm offended because even at 7 months pregnant, I still think that it's okay to go faster than 6 mph and yes, yes I WILL pass you even if we're only supposed to be two abreast. Because YOU'RE RIDING 6 MPH and even the most unfit pregnant chick can hit 14 mph easy. LET'S MOVE, GRANNY.

Benny kept telling me to slow down... that it wasn't a race. But c'mon... even if it's not a race, at least let's have some dignity here!!! Oh... and btw? EVERYTHING'S A RACE, BABE.

Yea... I don't know how he puts up with me either. But he does an awful good job of it. We ended up leaving the group after they headed back to the start and doing another lap to get our heart rates up... and then proceeded to cancel that out with a stop at Farr's Ice Cream... which just happened to be on the route.

Birthing classes started last week and I can't wait to fill you all in. Benny is by far the most excited Father-To-Be in there. As evidenced by his jumping up and volunteering to be first among the men to wear the maternity suit. He's been a great partner throughout this whole process and I can't wait to bring Tweet into the world to meet her Daddy.

I Dream of Tweety

Hello, Tweet. You may be wondering why I haven't written to you for so long. I could tell you that I've been busy with life, busy building your nursery or working long hours. While each of those excuses are plausible, none of them are adequate to explain my absence. The only thing I can say is that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for being scared to disappoint you with the things that I write. I have always had high expectations of myself, but those expectations will never compare to the expectations you will soon have of me.

Knowing that you will one day read this blog is terrifying. Thinking of the day that you scrutinize my words, my motives, my thoughts and my feelings is very intimidating. Nevertheless, I dream of you each and every day, and as your father it is my privilege to share those dreams with you.

You should know that I dream of the day when you come into this world. I dream of meeting you for the first time. I dream of your eyes, your smile, your heart and your spirit. I dream of sleepless nights, of messy diapers and endless crying. I dream of comforting you during those times of need. I dream of your personal growth and my fatherly influence on that growth. I dream of your first words, the meaning of those words and the first time you look me in the eye and call me Daddy. I dream of your first day of school, the bow in your hair and the nerves in your heart. I dream of the friends you will make, the hearts you will touch and the lives you will one day change. I dream of swim lessons, teaching you to ride a bike and tying your own shoes. I dream of your first day of school, your high school graduation, your first day of college and your wedding day.

I dream of everything that you are, everything you will be, and everything we will experience together. You are the dream that never ends, the love of our lives and the light at the end of every tunnel. For these reasons you are the sunshine in our hearts that nourishes our lives and gives our hearts the energy to love endlessly.

One day soon, Tweet, my dreams will come true and your sunshine will light the spirits and warm the hearts of the rest of the world. Until that day we'll dream of your sunshine and prepare the world for your beaming arrival.