The benchmark for fatness

Is it just me or do pregnant people typically get a bit touchy about their weight during their last trimester? As it is, I’m majorly bummed about having to lumber around like a hippopotamus with a watermelon for a stomach, so talking about it isn’t like my favourite thing to do.

During my last visit to the gynae a week ago, the first thing my friendly doctor said to me was: “Mmm… putting on the weight a bit too quickly huh, I think we need to scale it back for the next few weeks.” Admittedly, I might have eaten a few too many slices of bacon in Melbourne but in my defence, that was delicious free range bacon that baby Theo enjoyed thoroughly.

In my defence Part Deux, I also played some ball at a street court to compensate for all that bacon. Clearly, it wasn’t very effective.

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On a sort of related note, this reminds me of a conversation I had with the kids that also didn’t hurt my feelings at all.

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Kirsten: Kor kor, did you know that El Macho is SUPER FAT! Even fatter than mommy, you know!

Tru: Hahahahah, I know! Mommy is only this fat (gestures to his imaginary belly with his hand) and El Macho is THIS FAT (gestures to an even bigger belly).

Me: Oi! Who is this El Macho and why have I become the benchmark for fatness? I hope there’s a compliment in here somewhere, guys.

Tru: El Macho is the bad guy from Despicable Me 2. He’s really fat and you are only a little bit fat, that’s why.

Me: <Sighhhhh>

Kirsten: Is it because sometimes you eat instead of facing your problems?

Me: WHUTTTT??

Kirsten: Mr. Gru said it. In Despicable Me.

Me: NO! Maybe. Sometimes a little bit. And sometimes I eat because it’s delicious. Plus I’m pregnant. Also, I think we need to stop watching that show.

About dads

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I’ll admit it. When I was 19 and in the game, high on my list of qualities to look for a in a guy was the dad factor – whether he’d be a good dad. See, I knew back then that I’d be having a whole brood of kids, I’m weird that way.

When I met the husband, I knew he’d be a great father. I just didn’t know he’d be this good.

So usually in the first year of a baby’s life, mothers usually have the upper hand because we’re a natural at this. We do the feeding, bathing, cuddling and soothing just a little better. I’m thankful that the husband was a pro at all of it, but I remember thinking that if there was ever a contest of being generally more awesome with babies, I’d crush him every time.

But as the kids grew bigger, it became clear that the husband was levelling the parenting playing field. He’d found his niche and he was killing it.

Like no matter how hard I try, daddy’s approval and validation means so much more. Why is that? I often tell the kids they’ve done a great job and I’m really proud of them and they’re like “yeah, ok, I know, mom.” But when the husband does it, they beam and beam like they’ve just won an olympic gold medal.

Daddy’s also the super fun one. He usually does the crazy games with the kids and when he’s working late, I try to do my own version with them. Apparently, my fun level is vastly inferior. One time, we were halfway through a game and Truett said, “I think we can go to sleep now, we’ll play with daddy tomorrow, it’s more fun.” Welllll…ok then.

Daddy’s the fixer, the smart one, the hugger, the anchor, the bringer of fun, the cool one, the designated driver, the atm and storyteller, basically everything that’s awesome to a kid.

And momma’s gotta bring back her A-game.

Okay, I kid about the competition, it’s all very friendly. I’m glad the husband is a wonderful father because we’re in this together and there’s no one else I’d want in my corner.

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Happy Father’s Day, sweetheart.

Let’s talk about labour

I know I’m supposed to but I haven’t spent any time thinking about my birth plan yet. Partly because thinking about it makes it more real and the thought of going into labor again is terrifying. The labor hurts, the epidural needle hurts, the pethidine hurts, the IV hurts and the cervic check makes me want to hulk smash something. Yes, I’m a big baby even after 3 deliveries.

I had a bit of a scare last night with some pretty bad crampish pain so I guess it is time to start thinking about it.

Here’s the general idea of how it’s gonna go down: Contractions -> Get to the hospital -> PUSH, C’MON PUUUUSH!! -> Baby -> YAYYY -> The end.

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If you want deets, I’ve readjusted some parts of Finn’s birth plan and this round is going to be quite different. Read on only if you’re ready for some TMI.

Epidural: YES. 

I attempted going meds free with Finn and chickened out almost immediately once the contractions started coming in hard and fast, which is when I realised that I’m an epidural kind of girl and that’s ok.

Mobility: Not much. 

It’s my third VBAC and there are the usual risks of wound rupture so I’ll have to be hooked on to the CTG machine once I get in. Ain’t gonna be much walking around once the party starts.

Episiotomy: Not entirely keen but likely.

Both Kirsten and Finn got a little bit stuck on the way out and the gynae recommended one to minimise the pressure on the C-section wound. If it has to happen, I’ll take one for the team, is all I’m saying.

Video Footage: HELL NO. 

No, just no.

Backup plan: Emergency C-Section. 

I hope it doesn’t come down to this but if there are any complications, immediately abort mission and go for a C-section.

Post delivery: Boob time and lots of cuddles.

I finally nailed the breastfeeding with Finn so it’ll also be full breastfeeding fresh from the boobs with baby Theo. With any luck, it’ll be a piece of cake.

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