Month Thirty-Eight

Dear Husband,

Once again I cheated and I didn’t write this letter right at the end of the month like I should have. What can I say? Life got in the way. I did note down things that I wanted to say however. Especially what you told me right at the end of the month.

As you may recall, this month was my godmother’s 60th birthday. A birthday that we had known about for months and had planned to travel down to Canberra to attend. Which was fine. What I wanted to record for posterity had nothing to do with our attendance. It actually had more to do with after the party. Since we’re a little pushed for cash at the moment (with the baby and all), as far as I was concerned, the fact that we travelled interstate, arranged for a dog-sitter for the puppy and I fully intended to give her the photos that I wanted to take at the party would excuse the fact that we had not bought an actual present. I also figured that these things would be sufficient to serve as a gift from both of us. I’m a terrible god-daughter, I know. You decided however that you wanted to do your own thing.

This is also fine. I think its great that you get along so well will all my family, extended and otherwise. I love that you personally want to do things for them. I was proud to watch you go out of your way to help people you didn’t know to be comfortable and I saw you help clean and pack away a party you were invited to as a guest which shows a great generosity of spirit. I also thought it was a really lovely gesture that you wanted to donate more of your time to go and help out in my godmother’s garden the next day because you knew she had a few big jobs pending…like digging up a tree…roots and all. So what I wanted to mention is not meant to take away from all these gestures which you performed with pleasure and without regret or begrudgement. It is merely meant to highlight to you that sometimes I may do things you don’t like with your best interests at heart.

As you cast your mind back to those days, you may also recall that you were exhausted by the end of the long weekend. There had been lots of manual labour, nights with interrupted sleep (its hardly surprising how inconvenient it is when a 50kg dog decides that where he’d really like to be sleeping is on your bed and you’re in the way thank you very much) and generally not a lot of down time for you as Canberra isn’t “home”. So while we were on the way back to Sydney, you asked me to let you know in future if I ever thought you were over-committing yourself. If you ever seemed to bite off more than I thought you could chew, you wanted me to pull the reigns back in before you went full speed ahead and for me to let you know that you might be making an error in judgement or as I like to put it, you wanted me to crap all over your ideas. Again.

We have had a lot of discussions about this phenomenon. Typically I am more practical in nature and you are more of a dreamer. We tend to balance each other out on the whole however so I think it works. I still haven’t quite mastered a way to bring you back towards earth if I feel you’ve gone off into orbit on some seemingly expansive tangent though. This tends to mean that whenever I try to point out potential roadblock in your plans, you get very defensive and accuse me of “crapping all over your ideas”. Especially if they were just ideas….So even if it never happens again and you change your mind about whether you’d like me to make you aware of any possible pitfalls within your plans, just remember that when I clarified whether in fact you meant you wanted me to “crap all over your ideas” if I thought you were over-committing yourself you said “no…but yeah”.

The rest of the month was taken up with the general day to day which for the both of us is still work. Although for you, there is a little more work than there was before. In an effort to get a bit of extra cash, you have started to do casual shifts at one of your favourite cafes. I was a bit surprised at first that you wanted to do cafe work however I was much more for this idea than the pizza delivery driver job that you briefly considered doing every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. For starters, you seem to find it much easier to commit to things that you actually enjoy – like the people and the atmosphere at this cafe. I know the initial impetus behind the new job was more money but when you hate what you’re doing, it doesn’t tend to affect your personality in a positive way. At all. No matter how much money is involved. You talk big occasionally my dear husband but at the end of the day, you’re quality of life is much more important to you than the cost of the things you can afford to put in it which is really fair enough.

So you started at the cafe which was a plus I think but you seem to be getting sick again which is not so good. You always seem to have a blistering headache or a sore throat or your stomach is unsettled etc. Rather than the exception to the rule, you seem to be suffering from something quite frequently now. I wish I knew how to make it all go away. You’re a lot more subdued and withdrawn when you’re in pain or unwell but you never seem to get fully back on deck. I don’t know whether you’re pushing too hard, its just a bad season or you need a holiday. You’ll sort of get one of those in December. Although maybe a number of sleepless nights with a newborn won’t really seem like much of a holiday. Button and I both want you to be well though cause we’re gonna need you soon to stop me overanalysing things or getting stressed about the small stuff. I’d like to think I’ll be relaxed and chilled but I have been accused before of being a little pedantic so I’m sure there’s going to some room later for a “take a deep breath and calm the hell down”! You know, said in a nice way of course.

Ever yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at last year’s Sculptures By The Sea

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Week Thirty-Two

Dear Button,

What can I say about this week? I’m sure I was thinking of things to write during the week. Short mental notes to self to say that I must mention this or I could write about that. But now that it comes time to commit words to the post, I am somewhat at a loss. Ok, and I also cheated and didn’t write this post right at the end of week thirty-two. But I got a little busy.

This was the week followed by the weekend that we went down to Canberra. This wasn’t a problem. I have fortunately never felt horrified at the prospect of three straight hours in a car since I got pregnant or even two very close periods of an hour and a half. I know that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to spending the night on a sofa bed but the travelling was fine.

So it was more or less, just another week in the journey. Nothing significant to distinguish it from the one before and many things that are the same. For example, I am still supposed to stay away from pre-prepared salads, soft cheeses and alcohol. Amongst other things. Which makes lunch at your god mother’s 60th birthday a whole lot less fun than it could have been but on the upside, the cake was awesome and since I’m already “fat”, I so didn’t feel guilty about seconds!

But to recount the general developments for this week…

You are:

  • Building up fat deposits underneath your skin to insulate you against abrupt temperature change at birth
  • Losing the whole translucent skin thing with the fat deposits and getting more opaque skin like me
  • Apparently enjoying sleep cycles of 20-40 minutes…?

I am:

  • Pumping around 40-50% more blood than I was before I got pregnant – all to accommodate your growing needs
  • Definitely to avoid heavy lifting now as my joints and spine are apparently softer than usual – so I do try to ask for help when I need it

Alles Liebe,

Lexelah

* This week’s photo was actually taken and photoshopped by Ben so its a little less dodgy than the normal ones…

Sparky Strikes Again

Dear Husband,

It’s a very special sort of person who has the innate talent to be as observant and aware as you are of everything that goes on around you. Sometimes I marvel at the unexpectedness of what comes out of your mouth. Like on the weekend for example. Since the puppy woke us up quite early, we were up and about in enough time to utilise the morning while it was there and not run straight into lunch before we really got going. I decided to wash my hair, a task that is never really accomplished in less than 20 minutes for me given its thickness and length. So I let you know that this was my intention and then disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower.

Predictably enough, about 20-30 minutes later, I reappeared with a towel wrapped around my head turban style into the living room where you were still watching television. As I assumed you had noticed in our years of living together, I often wrap my hair in a towel after I wash it as it keeps it from getting my clothes and whatever I am sitting on afterwards from getting wet. Wet clothes and wet upholstery never really make for a pleasant experience. Not long after I had reappeared (with the turban) however, we decided to go next door to visit the neighbours.

Whilst we have the sort of easy relationship between us and the neighbours where we definitely don’t stand on ceremony with each other, I decided it would be a good idea to ditch the towel first. I’m actually not above walking over there in my pj’s as you know but since I did have to go out into the street first, I figured sans towel was more appropriate. I’m not that much of a bogan yet. When I removed the towel from my head however and started to comb my hair, you looked at me and said “did you wash your hair!?!”.

Um……yes. Yes I did. After I told you that I was going to wash my hair, that was indeed what I did. And then I came out wearing a big purple towel on my head. It shouldn’t have surprised me that whilst you were watching television, there were not enough brain cells left to actually pay attention to what I was telling you but can I just ask – why did you think I was wearing a towel wrapped around my head? As a new fashion statement perhaps? You have absolutely no trouble identifying if you can see my underwear through my clothes or I’m high-beaming or something is gaping where it shouldn’t but when it comes to noticing a big purple terry-towelling towel wrapped around my head in a turban, you are seemingly oblivious.

Hopefully obviously yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at the Medieval Fayre in Doonside this year

Week Thirty-One

Dear Button,

Now I think I might have an inkling of what pregnant women are moaning about when they’re all “Oh, the lower back pain!”. This week, I just found it impossible to get really comfortable. I couldn’t sit in one position on a chair for very long and I usually ended up at some point with at least one of my feet right underneath me. When the option was open, I was also more than happy for the floor as well. Any excuse to open up my legs really…

I keep thinking that you’re getting pretty big which is very first time mother / naïve of me cause you should have another 9 weeks to get even bigger. Anyway, I’m already doing the unladylike spread when I sit down. Parting my knees and opening up the hips slightly to make room for the belly which is already dipping between my thighs as I sit down. Apparently I am carrying you very low. Crossing my legs is now but a distant memory. Sigh.

And instead of bending down when I need to pick things up, I have taken to squatting like a frog. Just like you’ll get to do in kindergarten I’m sure. Although I’m not really in much of a state to start hopping around the floor or anywhere at all really. At the moment, if I walk up more than one flight of stairs, my thighs start to burn. I think that therefore counts out hopping about too. Its very depressing. The stairs thing, not the hopping thing. I can quite easily cope with not impersonating a frog funnily enough.

So yeah. Some discomfort this week stemming from the fact that it felt like my lower vertebrae were being squashed together and forced to support the watermelon I’m sporting in front. Maybe that’s what made me cranky halfway through the week. That and the interrupted sleep perhaps. Whatever it was, I was not in a good mood in the antenatal class on Wednesday night and I was too frazzled on Thursday to do anything but come home after work, go to bed and have a bit of a cry. I don’t think Sparky knew what to do with me. I felt a bit better afterwards however. I obviously needed the release and the rest. You are after all a growing baby.

You are:

  • Heading into a growth spurt
  • Over 41cm long and 1.5kgs
  • Able to turn your head from side to side – getting ready to say “no” already!

I am:

  • Apparently in the prime time for getting a cold as the toll you’re taking on my immune system is getting higher by the week
  • Still trying to guess which body part you are trying to jab me with when you get active

Oh, and I finally bit the bullet and had the 2 hour Glucose Tolerance Test. The crappy one where they take your blood three times in two hours. The pathology guy was very gentle with me though which was awesome. And I know I should have done this sooner but its really hard to rack up three days in a row of carbo-loading! I now find it hard to eat that much. Its not like I have a lot of room in there now. As it was, I didn’t manage to follow the exact diet rules as prescribed anyway. I only got close. Hopefully that was good enough. I am now waiting to hear back from my OB. Or not. He said if the results are fine, he won’t bother to call me but if theres something that needs to be addressed, he’ll call me in to see the dietician.

Anyway, the test itself wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I even felt better after this one than I did the last. No massive sugar crash. Yay. I did forget that you needed to pee beforehand however. Luckily for me, pregnant women can often pee so that turned out to be a non-issue. Actually getting the pee however was a somewhat…messier…experience than it was last time. Now you may think peeing in a cup – how hard can that be? Well for a woman it isn’t necessarily, if you’re thin. When you have an enormous belly however, unless you are Grover, your arms don’t easily reach down there until you’re pretty much spread eagled across the bowl. And you can’t really see what you’re doing either because you can only curl the top of you so far over before you stop. So you sit there, feeling like an idiot (probably hoping your pelvic floor is in shape if its not your first pregnancy), trying to regulate the flow of pee into a small cup with as little overflow / splash onto yourself as possible. Some things in life however are unavoidable.

Bis dann,

Lexelah

Pearls Of Wisdom

Dear Husband,

Not sure what it is about the last couple of weeks but you seem to be dishing out the pearls of wisdom on an ongoing basis. So of course, I like to keep a note of these titbits because I wouldn’t want them to go unnoticed. Or to waste. That would be a travesty. These things should be saved for posterity:

1.      Every time I do something wrong, its just your hormones.

Of course, why didn’t I think of that! Although I did point out to you that, by your own admission, you just put forward the premise (all by yourself I might add) that you are actually doing “wrong” in the first place. Its not my fault therefore that you are causing me to be upset / annoyed / disconcerted and various other things besides.

You then proposed however that “wrong” was completely subjective notion and it was really only “wrong” because I thought it was wrong. You also supposed that I was indeed erroneous in “thinking” that you were wrong and that I was only thinking that way due to my hormones. Because of course, all capability for rational thought in females disappears once elevated levels of hormones are present ie. in pregnancy. So you were actually not wrong after all. Genius. It obviously takes a male to figure this out.

2.      I’m not lazy, I’m energy efficient.

This seems to be your new catch cry. And your reason for not getting out of bed to turn the light off when some other sucker will do it (ie. me). Or your reason for asking the pregnant lady to get up off her chair in the dining room to walk past you in the kitchen in order to take something out of the fridge which is less than a metre away from you as a “favour” to you while you are just standing there. Why do I suddenly have the feeling of déjà vu? I think we’ve been here before. And just so as you know, energy efficient is not the term I’d use…

3.      I can’t come to work today because I am pre-sick.

I think everyone has those days when its really hard to get motivated in the morning. When we don’t feel our best and we’d just prefer to roll over and go back to sleep rather than get up and face the day. We both had one of those mornings recently and you told me that I should just stay home because at least I had an excuse. I advised that having a baby is not an excuse to not go to work and that I was just a little tired – also not a legitimate reason not to go to work. According to you though, being tired is sometimes worse than being sick at work and if you’re tired then that probably means that you’re getting sick therefore you are really “pre-sick” and should probably take the day off anyway as a precaution.

So those little gems were from the last couple of weeks but who knows what is waiting just around the corner. I can’t wait for you to (try and) bamboozle me with your next piece of brilliance.

Awaitingly yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at Sculptures By The Sea

Week Thirty

Dear Button,

We’re ¾ of the way there! Which is a kind of scary prospect because I know more this week than I did last week. This week, Sparky and I went to our first antenatal class at the hospital. We sat around a room with a lot of other first time parents who were probably just as clueless as we were. Or maybe not. Hard to tell really. Nothing was actually a revelation for me during the class but at the same time, it definitely adds to the confidence levels (even if it only amounts to a sort of Dutch courage) to think that we’re not missing information. There is not some piece of knowledge that has somehow escaped our awareness but that a midwife feels is so glaringly obvious that they have not bothered to tell us either just in case.

I know you’re not supposed to come to the hospital until your contractions are about 3-5 minutes apart, your water breaks or the midwife tells you to because you have called to query what you are going through physically. I know about mucus plugs and placentas and that a number of women defecate during labour and (sh)it just “happens”. I guess I didn’t know that you can come to the hospital and request an enema if you are worried about that particular occurrence but then neither would I feel the need to request one so it’s kind of a moot point. Everything else is just fleshing out the “come to the hospital and do what the midwife/OB tell you to” which was pretty much my plan anyway.

You are:

  • Developing your eyesight – not sure what you’re using it for in there but you’re developing it nonetheless
  • Still doing somersaults

I am:

  • Being told more frequently that I’m “fat” which is kind of annoying (oddly enough, I wouldn’t have an issue with big, swollen, round or may of the other descriptions/euphemisms associated with pregnancy – I just don’t like “fat”)

Other than that, things are progressing as I assume they are supposed to be. Decent sleep as a result is getting a little harder to come by. Its all very well for people to tell you sleep while you can. Lie in bed late whenever you get a chance. Take all the hours in bed you can get etc. No one ever tells you how to ignore the human being in your belly however that decides to make their presence known as soon as they find themselves predominantly horizontal rather than vertical. People don’t say if you can get past the new aches you are experiencing and sleep rather than just rest, you should do that. This is more where I am at however. Resting as much as I am sleeping (which is not as much as I’d like). I am more restless in sleep than I was before and therefore need to turn over more often. I need to wake up to turn over though so I don’t quite get the uninterrupted nights of sleep that I’d like or hours of blissful rest. Its actually not too bad on the whole however so I shouldn’t complain. I’m not falling asleep at my desk or lying in bed awake at night for hours so it could definitely be a lot worse.

Alles Liebe,

Lexelah

Now I Have Dog Beer!

Dear Husband,

Do you recall when I mentioned how not to train your puppy? You know, by clouding the lines of pack leadership or by rewarding questionable behaviour because it was cute? Yeah, well on the weekend, I think you confused the poor boy again. I know that it was hot outside in the sun and I know that his water bowl was inside where he couldn’t get to it. I also know that you were trying to be the responsible dog owner by making sure that your pup was not suffering unduly in the heat by offering him what water you had personally, but seriously? Out of your own glass? I think that’s slightly more ridiculous than responsible.

And as you will recall, I told you at the time that I felt this was sending the wrong message. I also told you that I thought you were setting a dangerous precedent because you had just effectively taught him that he is allowed to have whatever is in a glass. We already have to watch like a hawk any food that we put down on a surface under 1.5 metres in height because he’s cheeky. Now we’re going to have to start watching our drinks as well! I will tell you however that I did feel slightly vindicated (and decidedly unsympathetic) when about 24 hours after the aforementioned drinking out of the glass incident, I heard you wail from the living room “Now I have dog beer!”.

See, that’s what happens when you teach your four-legged friend that he is allowed to drink out of your glass. He assumes that it is a blanket allowance that means he is permitted to have whatever is in your glass, whenever he can get to your glass. And if your glass just happens to have a beer that you have been waiting all day to have in it, well then beer is what he is going to drink. I do find it amusing that he actually appears to like beer though. You said he got a couple of laps in before he lifted his head and cocked it to one side to consider the new beverage that wasn’t either water or milk and then decided to go in for more just as you figured out what was happening and removed your drink accordingly.

You seemed very upset by the fact that he had sampled your beer as though it was now contaminated and was a wasted glass. I thought that was a bit over dramatic because you took a nap and spooned with the dog earlier in the day and you let him “kiss” you regularly so I can’t really see the difference between that and him having stuck his tongue in your beer. When I told you that you should just drink the beer anyway and get over it, you assured me that you were definitely still going to drink your glass of beer like that wasn’t even the issue. You were just a little miffed that he got to it first.

As I said, unsympathetically yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at Hanging Rock Winery