Week twenty-eight

Amazingly, I’m coasting into the third trimester. Body feels good. Mind … well, I’m working on it. I haven’t exactly had a lack of dumb things to deal with lately, but I am working on my coping mechanism. Dealing with frustrating situations is basically going to be the name of the game from now on, I think, so I might as well do some work on myself to get ready. That’s enough about that for now. Let’s focus on what really matters: This kickboxing champ who lives inside me.

He supposedly weighs 2.25 pounds and is the size of Chinese cabbage now. Pregnancy is great because not only do you grow a tiny taxpayer in your womb, but you also learn interesting factoids, such as the fact that Chinese cabbage is also called bok choy. And sometimes these factoids make you think of SNL skits involving DJ Baby Bok Choy and his little ravioli hands, and there is no downside to a thought like that.

My own DJ Baby Bok Choy is in there opening and closing his eyes and taking practice breaths of fluid now, and can probably see some difference in light and dark outside my belly. His brain has developed grooves on the surface, the better to be thinking with

Originally we would have had an ultrasound this week (and new pictures!) to check in and make sure he’s growing on schedule, but a couple of weeks ago I got the bill from the first level-two ultrasound at the perinatologist’s clinic (our recommended procedure for checking out the two-vessel cord) and it was $1400 (after my insurance kicked in their contribution). So I postponed a second ultrasound at the specialist because, despite my employment in the glamorous and lucrative field of journalism, I do not shit gold bricks. Of course making these decisions about your baby based on finances is something that can make a person feel like a real jerk, but I am trying to be pragmatic here. So we are looking at options that will hopefully be less expensive but still just as effective at making sure everything is going well in there. The good news is that my belly sure as hell is growing and his punches and kicks are getting stronger and more consistent, so I feel like chances are he’s right on track.

I’ve started getting more serious about some sort of exercise routine. I’ve been a big sack of lazy for two trimesters (AND MY WHOLE LIFE) and the reality of a long, tough labor is getting closer and closer and starting to seem pretty daunting. So we are walking several nights a week and I’m doing some mild exercises recommended by my childbirth class instructor. I have tried several times to give myself over to the prenatal yoga DVD I have, but I get inexplicably grumpy when I watch that thing. There is something about the instructor’s extreme hippie breathiness that makes me want to Hulk smash everything in the room. This aversion of mine also makes it difficult for me to participate in guided relaxation/meditation exercises. Telling me to relax every part of every muscle over and over again and then deeper and deeper does not relax me; it makes me anxious and pissed off that I cannot relax at will. I realize this is not a good trait of mine and that being tightly wound is not going to help me in labor or in life.

I’m working on it.