Hold Your Own Door!

I've found that when you've entered the realm of "parent-to-be" (especially "mom-to-be") there is always some fear that creeps enter your psyche. Don't misunderstand--I am BEYOND thrilled to be mom and am (im)patiently waiting to meet my little girl in person! But every parent worries about if they'll be a good parent, which my very wise sister-in-law assured me when I had my first panic attack several months ago.  


However, I'm not talking about those fears; I'm talking about slightly irrational, some what common, and are almost always hysterical in nature if you stop and think about them for a moment.  I've found in my third trimester I have a new one almost every week and they each last roughly a week--Thank goodness, otherwise I would be paralyzed in bed.


This week's fear is elevators. I never realized how much of an incubator these steel boxes were...that was until I was 8 months pregnant!  I mentioned that I've become a professional patient, which means elevators are a part of my routine. 

Image from businessinsider.com

Well, the panic set in when I was on my way to my endocrinologist. She's located on the 5th floor of a building that contains all sorts of specialities--none of which are OB's, so clearly I'm there for something besides just being pregnant. The elevators in this renovated building are still being renovated. They all close very quickly and moved up and down the 6 floors slowly.


The elevator nightmare started out with myself and an older gentleman standing on either side of an open elevator waiting for everyone to exit. We both started to enter the elevator when it started to shut. At that moment, the only part of my body that was close enough to hold the door was my 8 month belly--so, NOT gonna happen! The older gentleman did nothing and gave me a sour look! Seriously guy? Hold your own damn door! I'll patiently waddle to the next elevator to open. 


But the nightmare didn't stop with the (almost) belly eating doors. When I finally boarded the elevator, I stood as far to the side as I could to be out of the way. The elevators aren't small but for some unknown reason a woman with her chemotherapy bag hooked up and out felt the need to stand within 2 inches of me. I'm not trying to sound cruel and honestly I don't know the specifics of why this is bad. I do know that my grandmother's doctor told me that if she started chemo she couldn't be around me while I was pregnant: hence, this circumstance mad me very uncomfortable. 


To top it all off there was a little kid sneezing standing on the other side! I had a severe cold for 2 and 1/2 months of this pregnancy--I don't want another one! Both circumstances made my anxiety shoot through the roof and also made the 45 second elevator ride feel like an hour. The rest of the elevator was fairly empty, I don't know why everyone wanted to stand on top of the fat, er, pregnant chick. 

Image from arccentralvalley.blogspot.com

I'm not saying that I need to ride elevators alone for the next 6 weeks (although if someone could hook that up it would be AWESOME!).  I'm just asking that if you find yourself on an elevator with a pregnant woman please respect her larger than usual personal/baby bubble in the insane Petri dish we call an elevator.

Already a Character

Because of my complications (no worries--Baby Girl Kotowski is fantastic!) I currently have to go see my OB once a week (this doesn't count other doctor visits...I have become a professional patient). Despite the tediousness of having to see at least one doctor once a week, it does bring me some amusement. After all if you're not laughing at something, you're not enjoying life.


Perhaps the biggest inconvenience of these appointments is the fact that at a minimum they last an hour. During the appointments BGK and I have to be electronically monitored for at least 45 minutes, then be ultrasound and chat with my amazing OB (seriously if you need a recommendation in the Los Angeles area, let me know!).  Sounds very intimidating and nerve wracking; right?


It certainly was at first. The first time I showed up for the monitoring I had no idea what it encompassed. I was exuding anxiety and hormonally on the verge of tears during the whole lead up. So, the nurse tried to be very soothing. She hooked the pink belt around my tummy to hear BGK's heartbeat...She moved it around a little bit, which is normal, but couldn't find it. So, she kept moving it around...and kept moving it around. Needless to say, my anxiety was starting to hit the roof when I started feeling BGK moving fast and furious. 


All the anxiety and tears made way for a whole different emotion and sound--humor and laughter. This poor nurse continued to try to find BGK's heartbeat for about 5 minutes, but BGK thought the monitor was a toy. Monitor was placed and she kicked it like it was a soccer ball--over and over again. So many times in fact the nurse walked away and came back 10 minutes later.  Yes, my unborn daughter is so big of a character that she is already frustrating nurses. Oy!

Who could stay mad at this face?

BGK and I have been back several times for this monitoring since. But all the times until today was a different nurse. The nurse the last couple of weeks could find the heartbeat right away (admittedly it's gotten much easier since BGK is a bit of a hoss and doesn't have has much room to flip or anything). However, this morning I was back to my original nurse.  She called my name, saw me stand up and said, "Oh no!" 


Yep, BGK has traumatized a young nurse already! My only response (while giggling) was, "I think she'll behave better this time." And she did! I'm happy she behaved; however, her first embarrassing story for family/friends/future love interests as already been born.

Oh! You're Having...

I haven't figured out why, oh, why strangers feel the need to inform you of anything and everything (and I mean anything and everything) when you're pregnant. To be perfectly frank, "strangers" is too broad a word--it's really strange women. I think the main reason for this is that most men have learned how to keep their feet out of their mouths unless the pregnant female starts the conversation. No man wants to ask an UN-pregnant woman if she's pregnant, so mommies-to-be: with most men the ball is in your court.


This is NOT the case with all most women. Let me be clear before this rant (because let's be honest, that's what it will be shortly) starts, I like to be asked about my bun in the oven. But there is a key word in that sentence: asked. Unfortunately women think that if you're pregnant that you must know all their experiences, advice, and their opinion.

Image fromblogs.babble.com/being-pregnant

A woman in my birthing class said this is because women see it has a rite of passage to share their stories.  I think that is a very unique, rational, and kind way to look at the word vomit some women feel the need to spew onto your unseen shoes. But I see her point...when it comes to other women's past experiences. Those are the stories I like to hear! Hearing that this woman was nauseous for 8 out of 9 months; that woman had gestational diabetes; this one couldn't sleep after month 5; or that one had stretch marks starting in month 3, makes us moms-to-be feel normal and not alone. 


Please note: I'm not saying that I only enjoy hearing the negative experiences. I love hearing how some women's pregnancy have been perfect, glowing and easy! While I'm listening, I'm also completely green with envy (or maybe it's just the lingering morning sickness).  All jealousy aside, women's experiences are important to pass down.


What I don't want to hear is unsolicited advice or opinion (and mainly it's really just your opinion you need to keep to yourself). I have had multiple women who have just blurted out, "Oh, you're having a boy." The first time, I bit my tongue and smiled politely and just replied, "no, SHE's a GIRL." But this outburst (that's exactly what they are--I haven't been in a single conversation with any of these women when this "observation" was made) has slowly driven me mad. I finally snapped the other day and answered in my snarkiest tone, "why would you think that?" Apparently it's because according to this woman while I was sitting I appear to be carrying "low." There are two issues with this observation. The first: I'M SITTING DOWN! The second: I'm small in stature--I'm carrying where my body could make room.

Image from http://halloweencostumeworld.com

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I don't want to hear any one's opinions. That's simply not sure.  I love hearing my mom's, mother-in-law's, sisters-in-law's and close friends' opinions. Their experiences, advice and opinions are  wanted, valuable and loved resources. Not to mention, they aren't going to guess the wrong sex because of my "look" when this wonderful machine called an ultrasound (and two doctors) say otherwise.

Interrupting Radio Silence

So, Pondering Polly has been on radio silence... The main reason for that is that Pondering Polly is now Expecting Polly. I know, even that has taken months for a post--I have very simple reasons for that.

The End of August?!? That's not just silence--that' I dropped off the map!

I'm not saying you can't blog while pregnant (clearly because here I am). But if you remember from my past posts on PP, I'm a HUGE sports fan. That may not mean much to some people; but when I think of a sports fan, I think of an overly, often unnecessarily superstitious person. What does this have to do with pregnancy? A lot in the fact that I didn't want to publicly discuss/announce/ etc until I knew that Baby was doing very well. 

The other main reason is that this pregnancy hasn't been a very easy pregnancy (I promise to share some of this at later date--mommies-to-be, just know you're not crazy!). Baby is doing amazingly well, but baby is beating momma up. For me, I needed to convince myself that it was okay for me to not be Supergirl before I could actually talk in an open forum about being pregnant and all that comes along with it. I've accepted that this pregnancy is NOT as easy and simple as my mom told me about hers.  

My mom visiting! Such a blessing!

That doesn't mean that there are not enjoyable moments (because there are TONS!). It just means I'm a little more managed than some women. And the honest to God truth is that as long as Baby is healthy and happy, I could care less how easy/hard/complicated/simple/glowing/ sick/etc this pregnancy is. 


The last reason I haven't blogged is the probably the most obvious: When I'm excited about something, it's incredibly impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. This meant NO blog posts until I was comfortable talking about my pregnancy... It just took me a bit; after all I didn't post on Facebook until I was 5 1/2 months!.

Expecting Polly is currently 7 1/2 months pregnant and thrilled/scared/impatient/and any other contradicting emotion you want to plug in. I'm now ready to share some of my experiences on this blog (some will be about things past, others will be current). I hope that this blog will be amusing, reassuring, possibly informative, and--help other mommies-to-be not feel alone!