Some Things They Don't Mention About Pregnancy

In honor of me now being officially past my official due date and also past my personally calculated because dammit I know when I ovulated due date, my long-pondered "Things they don't tell you about pregnancy" post.

May not apply to all pregnancies. Some assembly required. Contents may settle during shipping.

(Next time I do this, I totally want a t-shirt that says 'Contents may settle during shipping.')

* I seem to have swallowed my spare change.

First-trimester symptom: everything tastes like metal. Everything. Breathing tastes like metal. Faded out a bit after a while, but still has reappearances, like right at the moment as I'm typing this.

* Where did my seasonal allergies go?

This, this is wonderful. The horrible head cold I had during the worst of the morning sickness was the most miserably sick I've been in my life, but an entire better part of a year in which the tree sex didn't make me feel like crap is amazing.

* My joint pain went away too.

For someone who lives with chronic low-level ache and what my midwife elegantly referred to as "loose hips", the six or so months free of that was really nice. Of course my bad hip started popping again at the end of month eight, as if to make sure I didn't get my hopes up too high, but one can't have everything.

* Pregnancy update websites are probably not written with me in mind.

I first realised this when every single one of them I read one week saw fit to inform me that really, the major body change I was likely to notice around here was my breasts getting bigger, and that this was the best and most thrilling part of being pregnant.

The one that said something about my pregnancy now having lasted longer than any of my high school relationships was a nice garnish. (Gods, I hope not. Legalhusband and I have been together since I was sixteen.)

On the other hand, the Vegetable of the Week game was an excellent way to pass time. How to play Vegetable of the Week: Google "pregnancy week #" and see what article of produce the fetus is the same size as now.

* It turns out that 95% of the weird shit that happens and freaks me out is a normal pregnancy symptom.

Increased rate of heart flutters, say.

Skin tags, too.

* Your hair and nails will grow like whoa.

The nails thing is the part that throws me - as someone who had low thyroxin most of her life and is barely used to fingernails growing at a particularly noticeable rate, having to cut my nails all the time is almost upsetting in its "this is not normal" way. And it's even more fun now that I can't reach my feet.

Also, "Hair grows like whoa"? Includes pubic.

* Pregnancy is weirdly and subtly racialised.

Being someone who's in lefty-natural childrearing circumstances, I'm occasionally struck by how white things are.

By going to baby supply stores and having, on the wall, images of lots of babies and toddlers - all white, most blue-eyed.

By having people seriously suggest that the nipple-darkening during pregnancy is so babies can visually track the food source better, never mind that sight doesn't develop that clearly for a bit, mammals track by scent, and dude, where are you getting this bonus contrast concept from if you can't think of anyone other than a white person as human?

I just wow.

* Trying to get a ballpark figure for an appropriate amount of weight gain during pregnancy from the internet is not a good idea.

Take all of the crazy, interfering, I-know-better-than-you stuff that gets directed at pregnant women.

Take all of the crazy, interfering, I-know-better-than-you stuff that gets thrown around about weight and health issues.

Combine.

Or hit yourself in the head with a brick a few times. It's faster, and just as informative.

* Moods are not unstable. Moods are turned up to eleven.

Instead of "cranky" I was achieving "kill it and devour its heart that its lifeblood might sustain my offspring."

Instead of "I don't want to deal with this" I was achieving "I need to go live in a cave and contemplate the hopelessness of human interaction."

* Childbirth classes with any sort of natural bent will spend at least a quarter of the time in class talking about how to protect yourself from hospitals.

This is epically fucked up. Completely, totally, epically fucked up. Legalhusband and I would leave our childbirth class every time, exchange glances, and then he'd say, "I'm so glad we're not planning on a hospital birth. I'm so glad we don't have to go through that."

And this ranges from stuff like the friend of mine who went in for a post-term ultrasound to doublecheck that everything was okay and had the administering nurse lie to her in an attempt to panic her into admitting herself to be induced immediately to horrifying shit like a woman having her baby taken away because she refused a C-section.

They will lie. They will not talk about the risks of epidurals. They will insist on putting an IV shunt into your vein "just in case" and not mention that it's possible to refuse. They will pressure. This is why people hire doulas - when they can afford them - to help protect their families from the crushing stress and pressure. This is insane.

* Hospitals are insane. Did I mention?

If you had to go to a hospital to get a special blood test done to confirm that you were healthy enough to not have to go to a hospital for your delivery - consider the stressiness in the context of previous point please - what would you like to be hearing in the lab waiting room?

There was a television there, turned up too loud, of course, because this culture is sucktastic.

But what was playing on the television?

Medical programming, of course, it was the hospital.

What medical programming?

What would you put on?

What would you put on if you were a complete idiot?

How about a special on medical mysteries in which a family could not get treatment for their newborn's skeletal abnormality because the medical community wouldn't believe that it existed?

(Present in the waiting room: receptionist, three third-trimester women, and my liege, who had brought me there, looked at the television, and put in earplugs so he could study.)

* Heartburn can be bad enough to make you throw up.

'Nuff said.

* You will become a D&D dwarf.

The ability to detect the slightest of grades will suddenly appear. "This is an upslope." "Is it?" "Yes."

* Water is the best thing in the universe.

Go swimming. Take a bath. Get an inflatable tub that's deep enough to float the belly. It doesn't matter. Bathliness is next to godliness. I am totally composing this post in the tub.

I get in the water and all the pain and strain go away. And when I get out, I don't hurt for a while, because my muscles have had a chance to relax and unwind and rest a little, because water is totally supportive.

I am completely and totally convinced of the water ape period theory of human evolution. I found it convincing because of the whole, dude, where did our fur go thing, but experiencing pregnancy, and then experiencing pregnancy and water? Completely conclusive.

* How debilitating pregnancy is depends not merely on who you are, but random unknown factors that for all I know include the phase of the moon.

I went around and around on "Why can I climb the stairs without a problem today when I couldn't yesterday?" Damned if I know.

Pregnancy is hard physical labor, and the hard physical labor of it is completely invisible, so it's like an invisible disability only of course there's the giant belly so it's not invisible-invisible, it's just that it's implausible to people who haven't been there.

* No matter how crazy the experience makes you, everyone around you is crazier.

I've been in and out of tears. I've muttered about needing to be off my depression meds because of complications on SSRIs in the third trimester. I've wrestled with the fact that gestation takes all of my energy except enough to run the braingremlin that thinks I should be getting more done.

This is nothing compared to people around me.

In the birth class, the teacher told us that we should think about delegating someone to field all the "Is the baby there yet?" phone calls. To which one of my classmates said something to the effect of, "Who would do that?" I said, "Pregnancy makes people crazy. Not you. The people around you."

I went to a baseball game last Friday, minor league game 20 minutes from my house and probably 10 at the outside from the backup hospital. Was chatting with a woman with a toddler-in-stroller in the elevator back to the car.

"So when are you due?" she asked me.

"Monday."

My deadpan made her laugh nervously, and she said, "... cutting it a little close there, eh?"

Cutting it close? Is the baby going to erupt from me in a splash of drama during the seventh inning stretch? What?

* Relaxin feels so weird.

My pelvis is in, I think, four pieces, and every so often when I move it feels like it nearly falls apart. The muscles that are, of course, completely unused to holding my hips on are exhausted from the effort.

On the one hand, I'm glad it's all loose because it'll make it easier to expel the fishie. On the other hand, having my pubic bone pop near-audibly weirds me the fuck out.

* The belly is gyroscopic.

It does not like to change orientation. Rolling over in bed while nine months pregnant is a feat of athleticism worthy of a medal. The belly objects. If the process involves rolling over onto the back, there will be the moment of hazy, dizzy fatigue in which the vena cava is compressed which leaves one feeling like an upended box turtle. Begging for assistance at rolling over is embarassing but sometimes necessary.

* Sharp tearing pain in the foot is something that happens to a certain fraction of women in the third trimester.

It's caused by the normal pregnancy edema, and trying to talk to medical professionals about it appears to lead to flailing panic and lack of any clue of what to do. Also, it hurts like fucking hell.

* There will come a point at which the belly gets in the way of everything.

By everything, I mean everything.

I mean I can't pee without the belly getting in the way, it wants to exist in the same space as my thighs unless I take my clothes off so I can move the thighs out of the way. (Lately I've been taking my clothes off a lot.) And trying to pee on the diagnostic stick at my regular medical checkups? HAH. It took me a couple of sessions to be able to consistently find the piss.

For a while getting places by crawling worked better (especially steep staircases, like the one at my liege's house). Now ... the belly is in the way.


I'm sure I'm missing a few things, but that will do for a nice overview.

When Monsters Call Out the Names of Men

I want to be more cheerful now damnit and get the post about being triggered all to hell off the top of the page, so I'm going to do something I've been chewing on for a while. I mentioned to Hope that I had been sort of semi-compiling a set of songs into a playlist of kink expression, and at this point I've put together enough to make a post with, I think. Though I haven't found anything to express my thoughts about bondage, I suspect that's a wee bit tricksy to make it into music readily.... (And the religious intersection is complicated.)

Links in song titles go to YouTube videos. Band-release videos when I can find 'em, stills or weird constructed videos when I can't. I know there are other ways of pointing at music online, but YouTube is the most consistently available I know of. Other links go to prior blog posts about some of those concepts, when I could be arsed digging them up.


"Tonight and the Rest of my Life", Nina Gordon. (Link appears to be a movie trailer, and a slightly different version than the one I have.) Refrain in particular is a lovely description of subspace for me, both in the dreaminess of the rendition and the words themselves.

"Deep as you Go", October Project. Descriptive of deep substate and the altered-consciousness craving that underlies a lot of my kink - as well as some of the risks involved.

"Faster than the Speed of Night", Bonnie Tyler. Can't go without at least acknowledging my switchy bits, and this is the best me-domminess song I've got. And wow, is that an 80s video. And terrible quality. Ah well, the sound is fine. Alas, that the song about what the pretty boy should be doing so lacks in actual pretty boys.

"The Music of the Night", Andrew Lloyd Weber (The Phantom of the Opera). I certainly cannot neglect my first Master.

"Sleepwalkers Dream", Delain. Spiritual content, some, and some more about the experience of the altered consciousness state. In a lot of ways, this one is probably one of the most evocative in the total shape of things for me -- "the truth lies out there".

"Eye of the Storm", the Crüxshadows. The best I've got at the moment for some of the straight-up religious stuff, both in my relationship to Neb.y and in my sacred Work as a submissive partner. If that sounds a bit uppity for the sub, well, that's not my problem. That's still my Work here.

"Nothing Else Matters", specifically the cover by Apocalyptica. Not explaining this one, just enjoy the sensual rendition of Metallica. Never seen a cellist headbang? That's fixable!



And to round us out a bit, a couple of things that didn't quite make it with relevant lyrics quotes:

"Beauty of the Beast", Nightwish

You told I had the eyes of the wolf
Search them and find the beauty of the beast

All of my songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains
Every single verse can only be born of the greatest of wishes

"Sweetness Follows", REM

It's these little things, they can pull you under.
Live your life filled with joy and thunder.

The Only Intuitive Interface

Of all the changes in my body, I am perhaps most perturbed by my nipples. The swelling of my belly was entirely expected; the water retention mostly makes me itch.

My nipples have become alien landscapes. The smooth flesh of the areolae has become a mass of crenellations, occasionally punctuated by the lump or squat tower of a submerged gland. What was pink flesh is now a strange purplish brown, and every time I notice this I think of a comment my liege made a few months ago, about how he had read that one of the going theories about pigment shifts in nipples during pregnancy was to make the nipple more visible to the eventual baby, and how that made the racial bias of the theorists kind of blatant. The nipples themselves are tight and crevassed, though when they're not reacting to anything the appearance of the surface reminds me of nothing more than a ginger snap cookie. The scar tissue on one of them is a twisted mass of swelling and intermittent pain as the hormones course through tangled flesh.

It's very weird. I mean, even weirder than being poked in the stomach from the inside, which is extremely weird.

Election Double Special

This wins.

(Via livejournal & my dear roommate.)

And, in time, grow wings

I've been playing Spore.

It's a silly little game, awfully cute. One starts with a microorganism, collects bits of DNA and mutation potential, evolves into a beastie, then a sopont, then on into space and such.

And I'm playing it and occasionally wonder why I haven't heard of any religious-right screaming about an evolution game.

Is it because it's guided by the divine hand of the player? (I'm not sure that entirely helps, given the hubristic nature of setting oneself up as deity that I've seen at anti-cloning and GE religious objections, but maybe computer games aren't on that radar.)

Or is it the cute cartoon violence and happy fluffy dancing sex instead of Grand Theft Auto?

I'm just ... kind of amused, mostly.