Waddling and home decor photos

Today marks the first day that I acknowledged my waddle. Got my waddle on. However you want to dress it up, I no longer walk in a lady-like fashion.

My saunter has taken on a rather wide stance. It's like I'm a sumo wrestler prepping for battle. I plant a foot and then lean my entire mass over to the other side of the room, before repeating again. At least I had myself fooled until the third trimester.

In other news, PapaBear and I are thisclose to finishing the baby's room. You can check out our photos here.

And in more unrelated news, I'm meeting some Wharton alums for dinner tonight. Clearly, I didn't propose the 7 pm start time, as it's no more than 30 minutes before my bed time. Fingers crossed I can stay awake through drinks and appetizers before shuttling myself home.

The lies people tell pregnant women

Oh, the lies people will tell when speaking with a pregnant woman! I've chuckled at a few and wondered if I ever spoke these words to a pregnant friend:

1. It's all baby. You haven't gained weight anywhere.
If my 16-pound weight gain is all baby, then I'm in serious trouble. I don't even want to think about how one delivers a 16-pounder today, let alone how big said baby would be at full term.

2. You don't look pregnant from the back.
A while ago, I asked PapaBear if I looked pregnant from behind in a rather clingy sweater. He stammered, paused, and eventually asked, "What answer to you want?" At least I can rest assured that my husband is straight with me.

3. Nursing will melt away all the weight gain
Hmmmm...if, as they say, I'm not porking up, then why would I need breastfeeding to address the post-baby pudge?

I heard my favourite lie last night, as my hair stylist was flat ironing my 'do. "You look just like Katie Holmes. And with your hair so straight, you are thisclose to being Posh Spice!"

Yes, that's me. Katie Holmes and Posh Spice, all rolled into one...and hiding inside this 26-week pregnant body that wasn't exactly lithe 26 weeks ago.

What is my "special place"? My conscious mind has no idea

PapaBear and I have taken hypnobirthing to a new level. After sacrificing 4 Saturday mornings for an admittedly lame course, we found HypnoBabies. (In truth, I found HypnoBabies and PapaBear continues to play along like a champ.)

My HypnoBabies home study materials arrived last week. Since breaking open the shrink wrap, I have listened faithfully to the prescribed hypnosis tracks on my collection of iPods (one for every occasion and outfit worn by this new media mama).

In fairness, it would be a stretch to say that "listening" is actually a part of my hypnosis practice. On each of my 4 listening attempts to date, I have fallen asleep. Somewhere between the cues to "Focus on your breath" and "Prepare to assume a state of relaxed alertness", I am out like a light.

The goal-0riented gal that I am is really struggling. Last night I tried to work through the "Special Place" tracks, but I have no idea where my special place is supposed to be. Let's hope that it involves my bed and a dozen strategically placed pillows, because that's all I've got at this point.

Underwear

I need new underwear. Right now. My current pair can no longer stretch to accommodate my belly. Forget saving the planet and encouraging world peace. Right now, I need comfort.

Sitting at my desk, the situation is dire. I tried shifting the waistband down low (the "sub belly" fold) and BabyBear had a fit. It would seem that she uses that space too. If I hike it up as high as she rides, my sidekick squirms up a storm. Regardless of what I do, I'm cramping BabyBear's style.

All was reasonably well before lunch. Then things got crowded and I'm in agony.

Would it be wrong to change into my maternity tankini bottoms? I could think of it as getting ready for tonight's swim really, really early.

Is this pregnancy brain?

My MIL called recently, worried that silence on the blog meant something was wrong. But don't fret. I'm still here, just quieter for a stretch there.

A friend of mine went through a significant life crisis last week and said drama took my attention. She crashed in our basement for a while and needed a shoulder to cry on. Multiple shoulders later, I didn't feel like being witty about the joys of pregnancy. My complaints and misadventures were nothing compared to what life dealt others.

On Friday, as the fog lifted, I reconnected with my preggy fun. Two hours into a 3 hour chat with some consultants, I had trouble understanding what one of the dudes was saying. I focused hard, understood all the words, and didn't have a clue as to whether his sentences conveyed anything meaningful.

My colleague nodded a lot and seemed very excited about what she heard. Was she sifting these random phrases into something intelligent and useful? Or was she just hopping that enthusiastic response would get them out of her office quickly?

If she really thought they were onto something, I think I just experienced my first case of "pregnancy brain". When talking to consultants, however, one can never be sure.

Waddling of a different kind

John Bingham is one of my favourite running personalities. His "Penguin Brigade" proudly encourages slow runners to "Waddle on!", sentiment that I have taken to heart while training for past marathons. (After all, I had little choice but to embrace his philosophies. My mom always said that I have two speeds: slow and stop.)

Many pregnant women feel their graceful stroll morph into a wide-stanced waddle. And I could easily sport one of Bingham's signature "I'm slow. I know. Get over it." t-shirts right now. The similarities between marathons and pregnancy do not end with speed and lanky movement, however.

Consider the following parallels:

1. Water and protein consumption: I'm drinking copious amounts of water, the likes of which I have not seen since my marathon training days. I target a serving of protein each meal in an attempt to avoid swelling, something I haven't done since I broke down my quads on the roads each morning.

2. Massage therapy: My RMT has commented that my calves are as tight as those of a sprinter. Too bad the rest of me doesn't look like I just cooled down from a killer speed workout.

3. Core strength: I used to do crunches to support an efficient posture at the end of a race. Now I'm doing kegels, yoga, and transverse abdominal work (apparently, strong transverse abs help increase abdominal pressure and speed delivery).

Running friends tell me delivering a baby is like running the last 6 miles of a marathon over and over again for a few days. Is there any chance that the mental toughness I developed on the roads will get me through the big day? Let's hope so, because I sure don't have the physical fitness that I had when in marathoning days.

Political commentary in utero

BabyBear is incredibly astute for a kid who has been gestating for just 23 weeks. She has been dancing up a storm all morning and I think I know why. Clearly, she's elated over Barack Obama's performance in Iowa.

How many other fetuses would understand what the talking heads on CNN were saying this morning? How many would express their delight via an upbeat interpretive dance set to a "change is going to come" theme?

In fairness, she could have been celebrating the fact that she will not have to rely on Britney Spears' parenting skills once born. Either way, this kid is up on her current events.

An update from the pool

I hit the pool again last night, but didn't have time/self-assurance for aquafit. Instead, a half-hour swim suited better.

From a distance, the aquafit class seemed different. I couldn't put my finger on what had changed. Same line of elderly women, same unitard-encrusted instructor, same low, underwater kicks.

And then it hit me, the instructor must have received a new collection of orchestral music for Christmas. Specifically, a Dorsey Brothers Orchestra CD featuring the hits of the 40s and 50s. The class liked one track in particular, so the instructor just left it on a repeat loop once the warm-up was done.

As I swam my laps, I concluded a few things:
1. I never need to hear "Tea for Two" set to a cha-cha rhythm ever again
2. Pregnancy makes me remarkably buoyant. Could be my belly or perhaps the giant pontoons strapped to my chest
3. I'm burning my maternity swimsuit as soon as possible

Filing cabinets are the root of all evil

While organizing my desk this morning, I swung around too quickly and clocked a filing cabinet. The offending weapon did not involve a stack of books or a baseball bat. Instead, my belly made a square-on collision with an innocent inanimate object. Without question, I'm officially huge.

To be fair, today does not mark the onset of my enormity. I've been ignoring clues for weeks. A neighbour noticing, "My, you are certainly blooming!", my mother's less subtle, "Wow, you are really big", or a colleague saying, "Tam, that's quite a rack you've got there".

I'm convinced that BabyBear has positioned herself perpendicular to my spine. How else can one explain my size?