Shouldn’t camera’s be banned in delivery rooms? Well, I’m sure some mothers out there are proud and very pleased to know that they have the option to bring a camera in for pre and post picture moments. To you I say, “You, my lady, have far more confidence than I!”
For those like me, however, hearing my mom mention what her picture looked at after delivery, (“..yeah just wait til they take pictures of you after”) made me take pause.
“Uh.. excuse me? I don’t think so.”
I’m sorry. Forgive me for being a brat, but a camera? Are you insane? Isn’t it enough that I have already had to face my number one dislike in the entire world (doctors), and now you expect me to put up with number two (cameras)?
And surely, I’ve done my part by giving birth (HELLO!), why on earth would anyone insist on taking a picture of me in all my, well, not glory. Oh, I’ve seen pictures. Once again, I commend ladies who are comfortable with these replicas dancing all over magazines, books, and movies. Seriously, I admire their pride. I, however, am not that feminine, and I am far from all natural.
I say (forgive my language), “Hell no!” If you want to take a picture of someone, how about that little person I just squeezed out of me? At least give me a minute to put on some makeup. It’s unfair that dad gets to look oh so smooth, holding him/her with his hair perfectly set and wearing clothes he looks great in. You want me to smile whilst I am tired, unkempt,, and wearing some gown made for the biggest sweat fest of my life?
I just don’t get it. In older times, birth was a private affair. Men weren’t even allowed to see women give birth in some instances! And now you expect me to take a picture? No thanks. I’m putting Vincent on camera detail.
Of course, my mother, upon hearing this, laughed and actually agreed with me. Poor thing got taken advantage of in her moment of weakness. At least dad had the sense not to post it everywhere.
If you can’t tell already, I hate pictures, just beneath doctors (and I mean just a fraction). I don’t even like taking them when I feel good about myself, let alone when I’ve undergone some crazy activity.
That rant aside (I figured I had to share that), my last doctor’s appointment (12/08/10), went surprisingly well. The nurse was a little kinder, and a little more ready to admit even she wasn’t fully in control or at a complete understanding of this whole RH disaster (bear in mind, this is the typical clinic, not the specialist’s appointment). I lost a bit of weight thanks to my diet! It made me extremely smug, until I laid back, and upon feeling and measuring my belly, the nurse stepped back and proceeded to comment, “Huh. The growth is bigger than what I would have expected, for its gestational age.” Nice… I’m having a fatty. At least, he/she has a heartbeat, and a good one too. Sounds nice and strong, and the swishes of his/her motions over the Doppler made me very proud. I should be feeling her in a week or two. I hope, I hope. Supposedly she can hear my voice within. I don’t really know what to say, in fact it’s awkward since I still can’t feel him/her, but Vincent had good advice. He suggested I just talk to the cats, to him or whomever, assuring me she’d still hear me and would grow accustomed to my voice until the awkward phase dissipates. So now, I continue waiting for the 21st, when I see the specialist again, hopefully this time with some answers. I can only assume the situation is not detrimental, because I have not received a call yet except concerning the Quad Screen (a test to determine the chances for Down syndrome ect. By measuring protein levels in the blood). Side note: mine was negative. I have only about 1 in 12000 chance for one issue, and was quoted as 1 in 6000 for another. I didn’t really pay attention to exactly which percentage went with which because all I heard was “negative.”
Sometimes I wonder if I am too cynical as I write these blogs. Perhaps it is because my artistic side is naturally dramatic. I always failed at comedy, and while friends and family have described me as being funny, I always failed horribly at improvisation, comedic plays, or including comedy in any of my stories. They are just much more powerful when dramatic. Perhaps that is why I am so goofy in person, saving my sharp tongue for times when it is only necessary. It seems I let much more of my heavier emotions out in art, while my life itself is quite entertaining, if not typically serene.
This pregnancy has been a blessing in that I have had it incredibly lucky. While I have said it before, I must point out again that I have experienced no heavy symptoms like some unhappy individuals. In fact, sometimes I fail to feel pregnant at all. Today, I was doing some Christmas shopping, walking all downtown, up the stairs in the mall, and realized that unlike some sights suggested, I wasn’t winded or out of breath (some say you will start to feel winded by now). However, that might be because I quit smoking since becoming pregnant, and so my lungs are working more efficiently, making any difference in air intake difficult to notice.
My mom, thankfully, assures me that she was the same way, and that I won’t really start feeling down until the third trimester. Neat. Well, we will see.
I have, however, noticed that my tummy is enlarged. Being pregnant is kind of like… well, having a cut heal. Throughout the day you don’t see too much change. The wound usually just sits there. Then, after a good night’s rest, you wake up and realize that wow! That sucker is healing! Most of the work seems to occur at night, and noticing changes in the womb is somewhat the same. I’ll wake up, and feel like there’s a large, thick bubble (well, there is) in my abdomen. Throughout the day, at times the sensation decreases as the baby settles, but when I lie down I can most definitely feel the crust of that little world beneath my fat.
I cannot wait for Vincent to be able to feel him/her. I was shocked when I saw a drunken post online, from last night (five this morning), in which he publicly announced he was “Excited about being a dad. I wonder what my son/daughter is thinking right now....Just inside Amanda's stomach, just waiting to start kicking away soon. No need to put, "will I be a good dad", because I know I will.”
Those were his words exactly! I haven’t even had the heart to say anything about it because I don’t want to embarrass him (even though he received 12 responses all wonderful), but it makes me feel so happy, and lucky. I know he’ll be a great dad, but I can’t give him that satisfaction too soon, or else he might just get too big of an ego!
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