Showing posts with label nausea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nausea. Show all posts

Monday, January 14, 2013

"Game On!" : Induction, Hypnobirthing, and my slow transition into a pregnant Transformer Robot.

  41 weeks, 5 days

Disclaimer: the following is very detailed and contains entirely too much information about birthing. You have been warned!

Induction night: Part 1: Constant monitoring and Prostiglandin Gel
Sunday:7.30pm.

Lying in hospital bed with a midwife attacking my nether regions. She claims to be putting Prostiglandin Gel on my cervix, but to me it feels like she is tearing a hole in my bajingo. It wasn’t meant to be comfortable. I try my hypnosis and disassociation (disassociating part of my body from the rest! In tis case – pretending I don’t exist below the belly button while my top half reclines on a beach), which takes my mind off the pain, but she keeps talking to me which distracts me from my breathing. After a few minutes it is over, and I have the promise of her returning to check on my throughout the night. She is lovely, but it is hard to like someone who makes it their job to poke you in the nether regions.

I try to sleep (Bed is tiny and Justin went home to prep for the big day tomorrow!). My lovely doctor is coming in at 8am to break my waters. This was not on the birth plan, neither was the prostaglandin gel. In fact, I wanted as little medical intervention as possible, but this is what we have to accept instead. I have a little cry worrying about how it will all go tomorrow. I hadn’t really worried about labour before, but with all these medical personel around it makes it quite ‘real’ and medicalised, which automatically freaks me out. I’m a hippy at heart and would probably feel better birthing at home with no needles or speculums or hospital smelling sheets and curtains.
I suck it up and give myself ‘the talk’. Get over it – this is what is happening – deal with it and move on.

I tell myself to shut up because obviously I’m a callous jerk for being so mean to myself at a time like this. I’m allowed to have a cry if I want to.
Finally I sleep, excited and anxious about the coming hours. The prostaglandin gel is supposed to start contractions throughout the night. The best I get is a dull ache like a period cramp when I wake up at 3am.  I need to pee.

When I get to the bathroom, there is blood. Not, like, litres of blood, but quite a lot (or so I think), and definitely enough to merit a call to the midwife. Midwife checks it and by 3.30am calls the doctor. She says not to worry, but now I have to be monitored.
Engage machine number 1.

Baby heartbeat monitor. Strapped one around my lower tummy, one around the other side, and I am attached to a small beeping machine that allows me to hear baby’s heartbeat. It is quietly soothing… until it stops and the machine goes crazy, sending out a series of beeps that scare me thinking the baby’s heart has stopped, or something is horribly, HORRIBLY WRONG!
Midwife comes in and presses a button. Heartbeat comes back on. My heartbeat goes back to normal. She explains that the baby decided to move and the monitor couldn’t pick up her heart beat – but she is fine.

Good. That’s good to know. Thanks for telling me this after my heart attack!
I soon learn - the monitor goes off around forty times before 6am. I am not exaggerating. FORTY TIMES! By that time I am sleep deprived (already! No baby yet!) and worrying my ass off every time that god-damn monitor beeps! Not a good start to my calm-birth/hypnobirth/waterbirth scenario.

Random doctor on call comes in. He is nice. Explains that because monitor went off so many times (despite EVERYTHING BEING FINE!) and the fact that I had some bleeding, I must now be hooked up to a canulla intra-venous drip.

Engage machine part number 2.
I am not actually attached to a drip, but the canulla (drip thingy that goes into the vein) is very painful, and I have a phobia of needles so now I feel like vomiting. This also does not help my hypno-birthing or my calmness. Nevertheless I am adamant that I will continue to try. Still only dull aches in my tummy, nothing that could constitute a proper contraction.

No sleep – monitor is still going off every minute and a half. I ask the midwives how to work it so I can turn it off myself when it beeps like crazy instead of me having to call them every two minutes. They say no. Bum. Instead people keep traipsing in and out of my room, attaching things, pressing buttons, and even tho there is no sign of this baby yet, I already feel like a pincushion.

Note to self: Don’t get induced again.

Part 2: Breaking the Waters

My own doctor comes in at 6.30 looking exhausted. I feel bad for making him come in to break my waters, even though I’m the one with my legs in the air and a crochet-hook looking thing up my bajingo. After a minute of painless prodding, an enormous gush of fluid soaks the bed. It is pink – I thought it was supposed to be clear – is everything okay?! IS SOMETHING BROKEN?!?!
They assure me everything is fine. No bleeding etc. Hopefully Prostiglanding Gel + Waters breaking = Proper labour.

Justin comes in around 8.30, which is good, because they are now moving me to the birthing suite. CONTRACTIONS HAVE STARTED! WAHOO! I know it’s strange to be excited about contractions starting, as they signal impending pain, but for me it was a godsend. Who knows what would have happened if they didn’t start. Doc had specified:

Stage 1: Prostiglandin Gel. If that doesn't work;

Stage 2: Waters Broken. If that doesn't work;

Stage 3: IV drip of Sentosin (like oxytocin – makes body go into active labour); and if that still doesn't work;

Stage 4: Caeserean Section.

We were at Stage 2 – so you can understand my joy at not have to go to stage 4!!

It takes several hours. And contractions start to get more uncomfortable – a very good sign! My lovely midwife and husband take turns at keeping me occupied – we chat in between contractions (not too painful yet!)

After several hours of ‘So Calm’ breathing and hypnotherapy (despite being attached to all the cyborg machines) our Doc came to check me out. I didn’t think I’d progressed that much, as the surges were quite manageable, but apparently I was at 5cms dialated. Still 5cm’s to go before baby makes her entrance. Unfortunately for us, my surges started to lessen and instead of getting closer together and longer, they started to drop off in time as well. We took it in our stride, and Doctor B recommended the Sentosin drip. Lucky for me I already had the Canulla right?

Engage machine part number 3: IV of Sentosin

Am surprised they have not yet attached a robot arm to my neck, with all the machinery I am hooked up to. Damn, Damn, Damn! Sentosin was not on my list of preferences. What had happened to my natural labour? Still, I had some things to be proud of – I had so far managed without pain relief (though really, it wasn’t that bad for the first 5cms!!) and I had come to terms with the fact that medical intervention was probably going to be necessary. I still had reservations about a potential C-Section, which our Doc had advised me may need to occur if the Sentosin didn’t work, but is it worth it to have a healthy baby and mum? Of course it is.

So they put me on 1mg of Sentosin and a Saline drip.  Nothing changing – perhaps some slightly harsher surges, but still miles apart.
An hour later they up me to 2mg of Sentosin. Still no change. Surges have all but stopped. Have resigned myself to a Cesarean section later that day.

At 2.30, in a last ditch effort to get the baby moving out of there, they put me up to 4mg of Sentosin.
Holy Mary Mother-of-God did that get things moving.

In the space of five minutes, I went from very mild, spread out surges, to one every two minutes. They became not quite unbearable, but severe to say the least. I managed to keep up my ‘So Calm’ breathing. After 15 minutes, I caved and asked the midwives for the gas pain relief. They hooked it up and I gave it a go – but it made me dizzy and feel out of control, like I couldn’t control what my body was doing. One breath was enough – I gave it back and went back to so-calm breathing. My visualisations were becoming difficult to do at this point. When I could feel a surge coming I rocked from side to side breathing in and out ‘So-Calm’. I am proud to say I didn’t scream, cry or swear an awful lot – it is not like in the movies where the woman clutches the husband’s hand and tells him how much she hates him. In fact, up until now, Justin had been massaging my back and patting me, but I told him to go away because during these surges it became unbearable to have anybody touch me.

At around 2.50 I said to Justin ‘if it’s going to be much longer I’m going to need an epidural’. It had become so unbearable without drugs – and I didn’t’ want pethidine or morphine – that I was planning on caving. The Hypnosis, visualisations and breathing methods had not made the pain disappear, but had certainly made it bearable.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to go to the loo. You know, for number 2’s. (I warned you – TMI!) It had only been around 30 minutes since the doctor had checked me, so we didn’t think much of it, except for I’d already been with my milder contractions earlier on. I felt a little strange, as during my contraction, my body kept involuntarily ‘pushing’. I tried to stop it – and told my midwives that it was happening. Surely I didn’t need to push yet? I was only 5cm’s 30 minutes ago!

At 2.55 our midwives looked at each other and decided to check my cervix to see if I had dilated anymore. As our lovely midwife, Sharon, peeped up my hoo-ha, she exclaimed

‘Oh... well that's unexpected... I can see the head!’

Me: What? WHAT?! YOU CAN SEE THE HEAD?! THE BABY IS COMING?! I”M NOT READY! TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK!

Justin’s reaction was priceless – his face went into a look of shock and suddenly he was dithering about with his phone.

(Didn’t realise at the time – but Justin texted ‘Game On!” to my parents, as he didn’t have time to text anything else)

The midwife told Justin that he needed to call the Cord Blood people (We had decided to do cord blood banking and they were supposed to be called at 7cm’s dilated – which I had not reached at the last check!)

So, apparently the reason I felt like my body was being ripped in two, and that I needed an epidural, was because I was in ‘transition’, and my body was ready to go and birth our baby!

My second reaction was one of immense joy and relief – this labour was going to be over, and I could ACTIVELY do something to work with the surges, rather than simply endure them.

Anyway – this all happened in the space of about 5 minutes. 3.00pm:

-         One of our midwives Tracey ran out to get our Doctor, and a minute later ran back in saying he would be unable to attend.

-         Tracey (who had been our primary midwife up until now) had to leave at 3pm – thinking we would be in the ‘pushing’ stage (or the ‘breathing down the baby’ stage as I like to call it in line with our Hypnobirthing!) for at least an hour. We said goodbye to Tracey. Or, at least, Justin did. I was in a bit of a state by then.

-         Suddenly, without my knowledge, I was holding on to the end of the bed and doing little squats on the floor to relieve the feeling of pressure in my bottom/hoo-ha region. I had no idea why I was squatting, as this was one of the positions of labour I said I would NEVER do. So stupid looking, and really, really, unflattering! … At that point, I didn’t care who saw what.
3.01pm: My body continues to involuntarily push the baby down the birth canal. I finally undersand what hypnobirthing means by ‘you don’t need to actively push’. There was no point in this part of my labour where I felt the need to strain or use any force to push – my body did it all naturally.

3.02pm: Pushes start happening one after the other with very small intervals in between. Midwives try to get me onto the bed. I say ‘Hell no. I’m staying here’. Sharon places a mirror underneath where I am standing/squatting, and asks if I would like to watch as the baby’s head comes through the birth canal. I give her a look that could freeze hell. ‘Oh my god, No. I don’t want to see that!’. Having seen babies ‘crown’ in several birthing videos I had watched, I had no need to see that happen to me. I feel it would have scarred me for life. Justin, bless him, stayed as far away as possible from the ‘action’ end, and leaned on the bed, giving me his fingers to squeeze. I really didn’t mean to hurt him, and didn’t try, but like the ‘pushing’, it was kind of involuntary. I am quite glad he didn’t complain, or he might have lost an eye. He was my rock, telling me how well I was doing, even when it felt like each contraction was ripping my body in two, and the pressure was becoming unbearable.

Despite the unbearable pressure, this was my favourite part of the birthing. I know, I’m crazy, but it felt AMAZING to be giving birth to another person. I felt so alive, so healthy, and this part felt the most ‘natural’ of any of the labour so far (even though it was the sentosin that had hurried my contractions to the point of no return. There was NO relief! They came every 30 seconds, for 30 seconds!)

3.03pm: A giant HUMUNGOUS pressure in my bottom – not the va-jay-jay. In birthing classes they had always made it very clear that it was an ‘anal’ sensation when it was time to push, so I was pretty sure the baby was near. Midwives ask me to try to hold it back and not push, as the baby was coming too quickly. Again, I try my best, but nothing but an act of God is going to stop this baby getting out in the next couple of minutes.

3.04pm: BURNING ENSUES!! MY VAGINA IS ON FIRE!

Midwives physically hold baby’s head back in an effort to save my poor perineum. They realise this is not going to happen – that this baby needs to get out quickly.

3.05pm: Finally Sharon gives up on holding her back and says ‘Okay, I want you to give a little push. Just a little one, with the next surge.’

I do so. Not to sound gross, but I swear there was actually a ‘pop’ sensation when our baby’s head pushed out of my body. At this point I was kind of in shock, and couldn’t feel a lot of what was going on. I did not reach down and touch the baby’s head, instead, another contraction came right on top of the last one, and Sharon asked me to push again, even though she needn’t have bothered. My body pushed our baby’s body out in a matter of seconds.
OUR BABY GIRL IS BORN!

Sharon catches the baby and tries to hand her up to me. In my exhaustion, confusion and general elation, I forget the baby is attached via the umbilical cord, and try to turn around to pick her up. Justin reminds me she is attached. I announce to the whole room:

“Holy Crap, I just had a baby!”

And then, as I turn to see the state of the room and hear my baby cry for the first time. I am over the moon to hear that cry which I had unknowingly been waiting for. As I look around, I notice that everything, including our poor midwives, are COVERED in blood. Like, bathed in it.

“That’s a lot of blood…” and suddenly feel dizzy and start to shiver.

3.06pm: They place her on my chest and we move to lie on the bed, though it is quite hard to manoeuvre around the umbilical cord, as it’s not as long as I had expected, and certainly is not extendable. I don’t remember how I got on the bed, or what happened next, but suddenly Justin was holding the baby, the Cord Blood lady was there clamping and taking the cord blood (after it had finished pulsing!! I wanted my baby to get the most benefit from it!), and Doctor B had arrived, literally 2 minutes too late.

I semi-float through the next part, elated on oxytocin (natural this time, I hope!) and dizzy from the blood loss. As I find out later, the rushed birth (due to the Sentosin’s effect on my body!) pushed baby out way too quickly, and gave me a third degree tear (basically Vagina to Rectum - ewwie) in which I lost around 650ml of blood. May I add – I felt NONE of this up until the stitches – The only thing I felt throughout the whole birth was burning and pressure and exhausting contractions in my abdomen – I had no idea I had a tear until they told me, though I had a suspicion at the amount of blood that was on the floor (It looked like a scene from ‘Carrie’ or ‘Hannibal’). Gotta love mother nature!

So, I then get eight local anaesthetic needles in the nether regions so that Doctor B can give me several stitches. The Cord blood lady takes my blood (for the cord-blood people), and Justin has some skin-on-skin time with our newest Bechaz. I wanted to have time with her, but felt so shaky and dizzy after the birth, that I didn’t trust myself to hold her for a few minutes.

3.50pm: Stitches, blood letting and ‘clean up’ are complete. They finally place baby on my chest for real, and she finds the breast straight away and has her first feed. It was amazing – I can’t explain the feeling unless you have done it yourself – utter disbelief and ecstasy at the same time. She was perfect in every way – scoring 9’s in the APGAR tests and crying her lungs out up until the feed. Sharon showed us the placenta and explained what everything was. It looked like a large stomach (the sac taht the baby was in) attached to some kind of livery shaped object (the placenta) which was smooth on one side and bumpy on the other. Weirdest. Thing. Ever. Also, Sharon asked if we wanted to keep it. Justin and I looked at each other and adamantly said 'no thank you'. She looked relieved, probably happy she didn't have to package it up for us. Would you wrap it in newspaper like fish and chips, or a tupperware container? How do you transport a placenta? AND what do you do with it when it has been collected? Grossly, I've heard some cultures make a lasagne or other meal from it and eat it collectively.
No thanks. We're good.

After a quick shower (in a wheelchair and aided by Sharon our midwife… how embarrassing – all my dignity is GONE!) we head back to our room (Well, I’m pushed in the chair) and get tucked up in bed before we have our first visitors at around 4.30pm. All I can do is cuddle my baby and smile.
It took less than half an hour to go from 5cm's dilated to holding our baby. Wow. No wonder we were in shock! But there we were cuddling our beautiful, perfect, tiny baby girl.

Isla Sofia Bechaz

Born 3.05pm, 7th January 2013, weighing 3.725kgs, and 54cms long.

 
Perfect, gorgeous, adorable, amazing, miracle.
 
I loved her from the minute I set eyes on her, and who wouldn't with that gorgeous face!

It was the most amazing, traumatic, beautiful experience of my life, and she was worth every second.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

I AM A HORMONAL WRECKING BALL AND KITTENS AND LOUD NOISES MAKE ME CRY!


I AM A HORMONAL WRECKING BALL AND KITTENS AND LOUD NOISES MAKE ME CRY!

Week of Pregnancy: 12 *YAY* Nearly finished First Trimester!
Fruit to Fetus Comparison: Large Plum
Cravings: Darrell Lea Red Licorice... but this used to be a craving before I got knocked up....
Aversions: NOT MEAT! YAY! Capsicum/onion/spices – Uber heartburn.
Husband’s excitement metre: Close to Nil, but his sympathy metre is nearing the top about my fatness and incompetence at keeping my tear ducts in check.

So, last week my nausea stopped, which is great (see previous post for freak out on that), but heartburn and bloating has increased which sucks. Gained a kilo then lost a kilo (WTF? Not complaining though...) and have been eating horribly (Fish & Chips, Subway, red licorice – up to half a packet a night – and cakes, courtesy of my amazing staffroom) But eating horribly comes with the territory of Reporting/Marking weeks at school unfortunately.

This week has been hectic – our entire art room (and staff room) had to be cleared as we’re getting a new floor and the walls are getting painted, reports had to be done by Wednesday, Trying to hand stuff out to kids, but half of them took the week off (lucky bludgers!) and then, of course, our house looks like a bomb site and our kitchen smells like a dump. I feel like a disgusting human being right now, and a horrible home-person, but it’s kind of a given when you have very little time. Also, kind of craving a glass of Moscato; my inner alcoholic is getting the shakes. Instead, have been demoted to designated driver.

In amongst this I had a doc appointment (DISASTER – more on that later), a blood test, and frantically rang around trying to get a booking for an ultrasound on Monday and Tuesday of next week (FAIL! Ended up calling in a favour!) If there’s one thing I’m already regretting, it’s deciding to go to an Obstetrician who lives on the Sunshine Coast, when we live six hours away in Biloela. Smarty-pants me thought this would  be fine, as surely we wouldn’t have to go down too often. Neglected to think about where we would stay (with my lovely brother in uni-housing? Nuuuuu thank-you, or with my parents... no, wait, theyve’ sold their house and jet-setted to Scotland. Good for them!) so our lovely family friend offered us a room! 

So, down to the nitty gritty – What is the general consensus of Week 11/12?
I AM A HORMONAL WRECKING BALL!!!! (as stated in title)
"How did this come to be," you ask, “You’re such a stable, normal, person” 

Lol, Jks, I'm a psycho.

So, what has made me more of a psycho than usual? I shall tell you: freaking progesterone. SCREW YOU PROGESTERONE! 

So, on Sunday, Justin told me a sad (but uplifting) story about a lady who went through a bad trauma, something I normally would feel sympathy to, but have the rationality to brush it aside as a tragic accident. Not today. Not if Progesterone has anything to say about it.

Justin: (tells story)... but she’s fine now and has a whole new life.
Me: ... THAT”S SO SAD! *Wails with loud heaving sobs into the pillow*
Justin: Wtf?! I said she's fine now!
Me: BUT WHAT IF THAT HAPPENED TO YOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!?!?! YOU”RE NEVER ALLOWED TO GO AROUND GAS PIPES OR ELECTRICAL LINES!
Justin: (pats shoulder) Okay....
Me: OR WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO EWAN(brother) I WOULD SO BE RIGHT DOWN THERE ALL THE TIME!! HOW CAN THEY NOT EVEN VISIT!!! *wails louder*
Justin: Nothing’s going to happen to Ewan.
ME: And... And... AND I MISS MY MUM!!! *Wails*
(Just for the record – my mum is safe, healthy and happy – but currently in Scotland visiting family.)
ME: AND I”M GETTING FAAAAAAATTTTER!!!!!
Justin: (Unable to keep it in any longer and laughs) Ohhh boy, this is hilarious.
ME: (Semi crying semi laughing and sounding like a crazy person) I KNOW!!!!!!!! I... Can’t... Stooooopppp... CRYING!

This continued for about an hour. Then I got a headache because of the crying and felt worse. Then I had a long nap.

Sunday complete.

Skip to Tuesday Night. I am browsing the internet, procrastinating doing my reporting, and someone posts on Facebook a link entitled ’21 pictures that will restore your faith in humanity.’ Check out the horrifying cuteness here:


Me: Oh, Hey, this will be nice and happy and cheer me up. Doobee doobee doo...

First picture is of Christian people apologising for bigotry against gay people. Eyes well up.

Me: That’s so NIIIICE!! People are so NIIIICE! I love people! *crying*

Picture is of two guys rescuing a sheep from the ocean. Almost have to be rescued from my own ocean of tears like a horrible emo.

Me: AWW! They risked their lives for a SHEEP! Humanity is AMAZING!!

Come across pictures of guy rescuing kittens from a flood - flood of tears continues. Then picture is of a fire fighter rescuing a dog from a fire. Crying gets louder and wetter.

Me: That poor dog!!! I hope he’s okay!!! *wail*

And so on and so forth until all 21 pictures are complete.  Crying then refuses to cease for another 30 minutes as I attempt to regain my dignity.

So, to answer the question I’m sure you’re all wondering – am I more overly sensitive, or is my crying-trigger on edge. Answer: Both. Probably. However, I can totally tell I’m being an irrational idiot, thus making it worse, as I irrationally cry about being an irrational idiot.

Tune in next week for more stories of Rhona the irrational crying buffoon (complete with pot-belly - watch her cry about getting fat!)

Peace

(PS: Also - totally share those pictures! They are so lovely! I hope you enjoy them!)

Less Nausea and More Worrying That My Baby Will Turn Out Like a Square Watermelon


When not wanting to vomit makes you want to vomit...
Week of Pregnancy: 11
Fruit to Fetus Comparison: Small Apricot
General feeling: Less bloated, but feeling an actual protuberance from my lower abdomen – possibly uterus? Who knows these days. Feeling fat regardless.
Husband's excitement rating: ‘Meh’ but actually suggested a couple of baby names this week – so perhaps excitement is growing? Still peeved about my addiction to pregnancy apps on the iPhone.

So, apparently, the more nausea you have during pregnancy, the healthier the baby (according to several of my friends), which was great... until all forms of nausea ceased one day and never came back. Now I’m having a small freak out and actually wish I was feeling sicker. Yeah, I’ve gone wrong somewhere along the line, but the nausea was a factual happening that encouraged me to believe I really was pregnant, not just fat (that, and the pregnancy test, and sonogram). Now that it’s gone, I kind of wonder whether I still am pregnant. I know, weird, as I still have the cravings and aversions (to a lesser extent- trying my first steak tonight!) still get horrible heartburn that I’ve never had before, am still exhausted constantly and sleeping up to twelve hours when given the chance, but I guess not wanting to throw up has really got me worried.

So I googled it.

MISTAAAAAAAAKE! 

Half the websites said it was fine and normal (Yay!), and the other half told me something was horribly wrong. HORRIBLY! YOUR BABY MAY HAVE THE UGLINESS GENE! The sicker the mother, the healthier the baby! Your baby must not be very healthy! OMG LOOK OUT IT COULD BE AN ALIEN!

Stupid mothering board. Not to mention a lot of the mothers that use those boards are bitches. Seriously! I wonder if you just grow a bitch gene because you become a mother. Well, soon to find out! (Honestly – I know plenty of mothers in real life who are lovely and total non-bitches! Just a lot of haters on the internet!)

So I learned my lesson. No more internet mothering-boards.

But while we're on the topic of stupid people: Who invented half of these pregnancy apps you can get on your phone. Granted, I have about five (no joke! I want to be prepared - I check them daily while eating my morning toast) but they all contradict each other!! Eg: Week 11 - baby size: 5 cm, 7cm, 3cm, 5.4cm, the size of a small apricot.  I went with the fruit measurement as it felt tastier. Then, they have things like :

To Do List:
1 - schedule blood test (Check)2 - Get massage. (Uh... okay... is this compulsory? Do all expectant mothers get massages at 12 weeks?)
3 - Spend five minutes a day thinking about your baby. Are you freaking kidding? It is constantly on my mind 24/7 - the worries, the excitement, the bloating, the nausea, the lack of nausea! I'm lucky to get 5 minutes of not thinking about it! 

In saying that, I'm a bit addicted to the apps, and will not be deleting them unless they get really stupid. Also they show me 'what your fetus could look like' which is quite exciting. It's looking less like an alien and more like a small monkey right now :)

Next: All of my clothing (except my fat jeans & hoodies) is slightly too tight. Have been wearing a lot of stockings due to cold weather, and constantly have small freakouts that because they come up to the belly button (granny stockings) my uterus somehow won’t grow outwards and my baby will be long and thin. Irrational, but something to ponder. Is this how they create square watermelons?


Finally (I’ll shut up in a second) I can’t eat like I used to. I used to be able to (on a hungry day) put away a whole foot-long sub from subway no problems, and simply feel full after. Now I have to take it in sections, a quarter every half an hour. I am still determined to eat it (pretty healthy after all and I’m too busy to cook much at the moment!) but it takes a while. All our home cooked meals I’ve halved my portions. I thought you were meant to eat more while pregnant? Apparently this will be like a diet for me... for now!! Now that I can eat meat again, I plan on having a couple of steaks before the week is out.

Peace!

Edit: Successfully have put away two steak and veg dinners (not the whole lot but a good portion) and two healthy hamburger lunches over the past few days. Thanks to those who didn’t give up on my carnivorous nature. I love you guys!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Goodbye Steak, Hello Refried Beans


Goodbye Steak, Hello Refried Beans

So, you hear from the get-go about the nausea and food aversions you are likely to come across now that you are growing a placenta and other formidable things, however nobody really tells you (can they?) what it feels like. For example, steak. Yes, one of my favourite, carnivorous indulgences – the rear of a cow, done bleu (or for those non-steak-lovers – extremely rare!) but of course warm through the middle; this strange steak-love is brought to you courtesy of my Dad, who has instilled in me from a young age the importance of having your steak moo-ing. Usually I would be hoeing into a steak once a week at minimum, but since getting knocked up, two things have happened.

1: I am no longer allowed to eat rare steak, therefore rendering my love of steak incalculably less than originally thought.
2: The smell of meat (Steak, ham, mince, chicken, pork roast, bacon, rissoles, freaking ANYTHING that used to be alive) makes me want to vomit. 

So my question to the world: WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!

Why, when we are told that iron and protein are invaluable to our diet when we are growing another human, does our body reject all that is good? And, furthermore, why does it have to be STEAK?! Why can’t I be hating on celery, the food that taste forgot?

But it didn't stop there, no. As soon as my aversion to fresh meat kicked in, it’s like my hormones thought... "Aww, we feel so bad for taking away your reason to live, we’ll give you another food fetish to tide you over..."

Enter, Refried beans (sans chilli).
I have been eating them on EVERYTHING!!!! On plain corn chips, on baked potatoes, in soups, in curries, in tacos, basically, anything I can replace meat with, refried beans has done the replacing.

One morning, when I realised I wanted to eat refried beans on toast for breakfast, made up a little ditty;

I like my beans both here and there,
I like my beans upon the stair,
For breakfast, lunch, and in-betweens,
I must, I must, eat refried beans!

On baked potatoes, mashed with peas,
Instead of steak, instead of cheese,
For horrible, hormonal scenes,
I must, I must eat refried beans!

It pains me to say I have changed my diet from healthy meat, potatoes and veg, to turning each meal into something that looks like poop. Awesome. Thanks, hormones, you only make life better. (Strangely, I suppose, refried beans have quite a bit of protein in them, so at least we’re getting some form of healthy alternative and I’m not craving doughnuts.) 

On another note; told my fabulous hubby I was feeling gross and could only stomach potatoes, and he brought home curry and doughnuts. Bless his little cotton socks for trying, but neither of those things will make it down my oesophagus. At least, they won’t stay down there for long.

So, Steak, for now it is Ciao but not goodbye, for I will see and eat you in the future and I will enjoy it like the carnivore that I am. To all you cows out there, consider this the eye of the storm.

Peace xxxx

Baby Mini-Muffin Timer

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