Piglet Pie

And The Countdown Begins

Friends, my little ticker at the top of the page currently reads "welcoming our little girl in 19 days!"

NINETEEN DAYS.

When you can count on your fingers and toes the number of days til your due date, it starts becoming unbelievably real. And there's really no question that I'm nearing the end of this pregnancy journey--the signs are all too clear:

My bellybutton flattens out more by the day. For a while, it was fun to stand in front of the mirror and lift up my belly to watch the little shallow button shift and spiral. But it's lost most of its move-ability in the past two days, and now is merely a dent.

The lower part of my belly is expanding outwards too--someone's head is getting lower and lower into my pelvis. Today I had to abandon another pair of pants. In the past two weeks, I've had to stop wearing my green sweatpants that were a staple this whole pregnancy (thanks to Aunt Jenna), and now my satiny black pants. I'm down to four bottoms--one black cotton skirt, one brown cotton skirt, one pair of black terry pj-style pants, and one pair of brown terry pants. That's it.

I'm also nesting, no question about it. Today I bought new toilet brushes for our bathrooms, and proceeded to give our toilets quite the thorough cleaning. I'm also poised to get our closet organized in the next hour, and I have an uncontrollable desire to visit places like "The Container Store" because of the sheer beauty of being able to Contain everything.

Tomorrow we head out to Schulenberg, Texas, about an hour away from here, for the wedding of our dear friends Bill and Tiffani. They and their friends and families are all folk/bluegrass musicians, and it should be a wonderful, festive, musical weekend. Owen's officiating the wedding ceremony and emcee'ing the reception, and I'll be...well, I'll be basically trying to stay afloat and keep this little one all comfy inside. I really don't want to have to deal with an hour's drive back to Austin while in labor...

But she can't come yet because we still haven't narrowed down our list of names. If anything, it's expanded in recent weeks, much due to my realization that her name is the first "thing" we bestow upon her, and that I want to make sure we choose correctly. I imagine in the end we'll go to the hospital with a few choices and then find the right name once we meet her. Unless she learns Morse Code before then and lets us know from inside what she'd like to be called.

Dot...dot...dash...dot...dot.
(hmmm...Dot Dash Egerton?)

Big Fat Baby, Big Fat Belly

For your viewing pleasure, some current belly shots. These are actually from a week ago, but I look pretty much the same...round, round, and round.

While sitting in the silence of the Quaker Meeting on Sunday, I started to notice that every ten minutes or so, I'd get a menstrual cramp, way down low and light, but definitely there. It'd last about a minute, and then go away. These went on like clockwork for about 40 minutes, then disappeared. I mentioned them to Dr. Love yesterday, who told me, "Yup, those are your contractions. Your body's starting to get ready, starting to practice." Wow.

Today I'm also doing the Full Term Dance! As of 37 weeks, the baby's considered full term--nothing left to do but fatten up and come on out. My belly button's nearly gone, I'm being constantly poked and prodded by someone's feet and fists and bootylicious bottom, and I'm alternating between being absolutely floored with exhaustion, and absolutely ravenous with hunger. But even with all these very clear signs, it's still nearly impossible to wrap my head around the fact that there's a baby, a real human baby, inside my belly right now.

I can't wait to meet her.

I have a Cold.

Friends, I have a cold.
Friends, I have a full-on sneezing, coughing, wheezing, hacking, fatigued and fever-laden cold.
Friends, I feel like shit.

Perhaps worse than shit. Like shit that got steamrolled and flattened and then baked in the sun for a while and then peed on by a cat with an eye infection. Like *that* kind of shit. And trying to get sleep when you're hacking and wheezing and feeling generally crappy AND are 30 pounds larger than normal and unable to sleep on your back (squashes a necessary blood vessel, cuts off blood supply to your lower half and your baby, and, as I learned after staying on my back watching a movie on the couch a bit too long the other night, can also make you nearly pass out) and unable to sleep on your belly (for obvious reasons)...well, you just don't get much sleep.

Last night I sat at home all night making pained "pity me" noises and monitoring my slowly rising fever. I dozed on and off all night on the couch, and finally worked myself into a reasonably comfortable position in bed. All night long, I woke up every hour on the hour to cough, sneeze, hack and wheeze. My worst hour was 3 a.m., when I woke to the equivalent of a body volcano--I was coughing so violently, and sneezing so ferociously, that my eyes teared, my overly chapped lip started bleeding, my whole body broke into a sweat, my uterus went into contractions, my boobs started to leak and I'm pretty sure I dribbled a bit of pee. It took me about five minutes to get through this onslaught, and afterwards I just sat there in bed, arms spread wide in sheer awe of the explosion that was my body.

Thankfully, that was apparently just what my body needed to break the fever that was tormenting me all evening. When I took my temperature at 3 a.m. it was 100.4...when I took it again during my 5 a.m coughing fit it was a very respectable 97.5. I'm still a splotchy-faced mess of mucus and snot, but at least I don't have a fever anymore...

An image of loveliness. That sweet pregnant glow.
That's me.

Thanks to the lovers, the dreamers...

Last night Owen and I hosted the first in our new and very exciting series of Sing-a-Longs at the Alamo Drafthouse. It was an absolute blast--we sold out the first show (over 200 tickets) and had a crowd of nearly 100 for the late show (not bad for 9:30 on a Saturday night) and everyone seemed to have just an excellent time.

The theater was packed with die-hard Muppet fans. We pulled trivia questions that we thought were real stumpers, and the crowd was jumping out of their seats with the right answers. We had a Muppet impersonation contest, and some of these folks were spot-on with their voices--Dr Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker, Scooter and Animal, and of course Kermit and Miss Piggy. And then some food and drink specials--frog's legs (I still wonder if anyone ordered them), and champagne with straws.

I'm going to get photos of us taken at our next show on March 20th, but for now suffice it to say that Owen and I looked pretty stinkin' good in our Muppet costumes--he as the probosculating Dr. Teeth, leader of the Electric Mayhem (with a slight nod in costume to Bootsy Collins, bassist extraordinaire) and me as the big-round-belly-meets-little-stick-legs Kermit the Frog. One little guy (maybe three years old?) in the audience caught a glimpse of me and just stood there, jaw agape, eyes wide. It was incredibly sweet. Owen always has a tendency to pick less obvious costumes (Stevie Ray Vaughan, for one) but had a few perceptive fans recognize him right away.

My favorite moment of the night--Owen rigged up a Gonzo doll with a dozen helium balloons to float through the audience as Gonzo does so on screen. It was absolutely magical, and made the audience yelp with glee.

And all this just highlighted the featured part of the evening--watching The Muppet Movie and singing along with all the songs (we had the lyrics appear as subtitles onscreen). It was a really sweet, moving experience, right from the start. As the camera swooped down on Kermit in the swamp with his banjo, and the whole packed theater started singing "Why are there so many songs about rainbows?" I thought I might cry for the entire two hours. There was such joy in that room, such a warm, wonderful feeling. Part of it was the love that all these people shared with us for the Muppets, and the fact that we could all come together and just celebrate that love. And I think part of it was also the fact that unlike many comedy shows we do (and Sinus in particular, for Owen), we weren't expected to mock this film at all...we could just sit and cherish it and laugh and sing.

And the shows just affirmed our reason for wanting to host these sing-a-longs--people really do want permission to sing loud and proud to their favorite musicals. We don't want to be confined to singing in our showers (well, Owen does really enjoy a good shower-singing. Or am I supposed to pretend I don't hear that?).

We started collecting a list of other sing-a-long suggestions, and they run the gamut from Annie to South Park--both of which I'd LOVE to host a sing-a-long for! The crowd seemed eager to come back for more--some are already planning to return on the 20th to see The Muppet Movie again.

The sweetest personal moment for me came during the second showing, during Gonzo's song, "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday" (which always makes me weep, no matter what). I'd already watched the film once, and this time the baby was all a-wigglin' in my belly and as I listened to the words I was thinking of it all as a song about pregnancy and labor and birth and our new little family...

This looks familiar, vaguely familiar,
Almost unreal, yet, it's too soon to feel yet.
Close to my soul, and yet so far away.
I'm going to go back there someday.

Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.
Is that a song there, and do I belong there?
I've never been there, but I know the way.
I'm going to go back there someday.

Come and go with me, it's more fun to share,
We'll both be completely at home in midair.
We're flyin', not walkin', on featherless wings.
We can hold onto love like invisible strings.

There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay.
I'm going to go back there someday.

What a sweet, wild ride we're in for over these next few weeks, months, and years...

(credit to songwriters Kenny Ascher and Paul Williams)

Next Month...

As of yesterday I can officially say that I'm having a baby "next month." That feels unbelievable. Really, quite ridiculous actually.

Time flies. I get rounder and rounder. Per my doctor's appointment this morning, I've gained 31 pounds so far...all of it right in the boobs and belly. I am seriously compact and front-loaded. A new photo for you soon to enjoy...I promise.

But the computer's been on major meltdown mode, which explains my lack of posting lately. I'm on campus now, writing from the computer lab, which isn't quite as conducive to exploring my body's inner workings...but it'll have to do.

This past week was a blast. The baby shower was absolutely fantastic--everything a baby shower usually isn't. There were no silly games, no dainty foods, and a heck of a lot of tie dye! We're going to have the hippest, coolest kid in South Austin. And that's saying a lot. Here's a sample of some of the fine garments produced by my immensely talented friends:

The tie dye kit itself was so easy to use that I can't wait to do more! You'll be able to find it in the next catalog of Beneficial Bug, coming out soon (props to Carson, their buyer and my shower grand-hostess!).

I want to spend more time writing on our first birthing class last night, but for now just a quick overview. It was wonderful--a warm, welcoming environment, a nice collection of fellow pregnant couples, and some really valuable information. I'm such a bookworm that my main concern about birthing classes was that it was going to be all old-news to me. But Lanell offered both excellent pain management practice and information that took my knowledge to a deeper level of understanding. For instance, I knew that it was "better" for the baby to lie with her back to my left side, but I learned last night that it's because my hard, inflexible liver takes up room on the right. And I knew that Pitocin, a synthetic version of our natural hormone Oxytocin and often used to induce or speed up labor, caused extra-painful contractions, but I learned last night that it's because it gets infused right into the blood stream rather than being released by the brain. Since the brain doesn't know that extra oxytocin's in the blood stream, it doesn't know to release more endorphins to help with the pain. Amazing.

And I loved the pain management practice--take an ice cube and squeeze it in your hand for 60 seconds (the approximate length of a contraction). We did it once just focusing on the ice, the pain, etc. And then we did it again focusing on our breath--breath awareness, Lanell called it. It was wonderful, actually. I'm starting to think that working through labor is going to be a bit like simultaneously being in a Quaker meeting and hiking the South Rim of Big Bend.

Mostly, I'm really thankful that I'm going to have both Owen and Lanell there with me.

And then this morning, a wonderful doctor's appointment. Both Owen and I are so happy with Dr. Love--he's got such a wonderful attitude about pregnancy and birth. Today he told us that he often doesn't feel like much of a doctor, because really, for a normal pregnancy, there's not much he has to "do"--he's just watching and keeping tabs. And then for birth itself, he talked about how it's just not under any of our control except for the baby--the baby's in charge and it's her game. I like that--I like that he doesn't see himself in charge of my labor/delivery, and I like his continued awe in the face of pregnancy and birth. He's been helping birth babies for years and years and he seems just as amazed at my body and my baby as I am! 

More musings soon, and more photos. But for now, just big ole smile from one happy, thankful pregnant gal with a big ole fat belly...

A Visit from our future Mayor

Apologies for the lack of postings lately. It's been a hectic time--we bought our house, made our grand four-block move, and have started to settle in. We've also completed some dramatic baby growth in the past few weeks--she's so big these days, and so prominent in my belly, that I've begun to refer to it as my Fat Baby rather than my Fat Belly... and the fat baby's doing wonderfully, kicking and squirming and wriggling away.

This weekend we had all the grandparents-to-be in town, and much adventure was made of the Grand Fixing Of The House. Props to my dad, who discovered the source of our great sink backup--two popsicle sticks that had formed a logjam and over some unspecified amount of time collected all kinds of Disposal Matter. Then there was one (1) cracking of a toilet and one (1) purchase and installation of a new toilet. New handles were put on sinks, new locks on doors, and new patio furniture purchased, hauled, and pieced together. Add to that a few good meals and a few good baby kicks all around, and it was a fine weekend.

Late this afternoon, Owen and I were sitting outside enjoying our own little slice of Austin, when who appears to wait at our corner to catch a bus but Leslie Cochran, Austin's own homeless-cross-dresser-slash-perennial-mayoral-candidate. Leslie's known for hanging out downtown, usually around the 6th and Congress intersection, in a bright pink spandex top, stuffed boobies, a hairy exposed belly, and some brightly colored thong or teeny tulle miniskirt. He runs for mayor each election, participates in all the debates and press conferences, and usually garners around 10-15% of the vote. (For the record, our current mayor is Will Wynn, who had perhaps an unfair advantage in the name category alone).

So there's Leslie standing at our very own street corner. We gawked a bit (he is famous, after all) and wondered where he was headed. I went inside to use the bathroom (someone's got her head pressed firmly against my bladder...) and then promptly fell asleep on the couch. I woke to Owen at the fridge:

"Leslie wants a beer, so I'm giving him a beer."

Then I woke again to Owen standing over me:

"Leslie wants to charge his cell phone, so he's coming inside. We've been hanging out and talking."

Half asleep, I hauled my big ole belly into the bedroom and plunked down on the bed. As I dozed for the next hour or so, Owen and Leslie hung out in our living room. They talked life, homes, alcohol, and music. They ate pistachios. It was a fine time.

Fast forward a few hours--it's now midnight. Owen's just come back from his victorious intramural softball game at Texas State (his team of fellow MFA grad students is called the Mother Faulkners). We're sitting on the couch, catching up on our respective evenings, when there's a knock on the door. Owen gets up to get it, and sure enough, there on our front porch stands Leslie.

He comes inside, backpack slung over his shoulder, Coors Light in a koozie in his hand. He's returned because he forgot his cell phone earpiece and his lighter. He's drunk off his ass. "Ripped" might be a good term. His eyes are all squinty and he's talking like swiss cheese. He's just come from a Toni Price concert, and he's happy as can be.

Sweet, strange, harmless fellow, long straggly hair and scruffy beard, torn pantyhose and the requisite thong...looking exactly as he does in the paper, on the news, on a random street corner...but it's midnight and he's standing in my living room, in my house. Hilarious.

He has a bike, and he's going to ride it to get downtown. This is a man who is so drunk he can barely walk straight, and he's going to ride his bike on a long slope downhill from our house. We think to stop him, but only encourage him to ride carefully. He rolls away. After he leaves, Owen looks outside after him and says, "I hope he's okay." I point out that he's Leslie, and this is his town--he's been living this life for years, and Austin looks out for him. He'll be just fine.

Hiccups

My baby's got the hiccups.
There's something incredibly sweet about it--she's gotten all fidgety and I think that the hiccups feel as weird to her as they do to us. They say that hiccups in utero are a good sign that they're developing lungs well, that they're practicing breathing and learning how all their respiratory organs interact.

I spend much of my time these days lying down playing with the baby. I'm fairly certain that she's head down, and has her back along the left side of my belly. In medical terms, this is called LOA, or Left Occiput Anterior, and is the ideal position for birthing--so I'm hoping she stays like this. I can feel the curve of her back along my belly, and can feel her round little tush right under my left breast. Her feet nudge and shove and kick me along my right ribcage and side, and I occasionally feel little tickles from her hands way down low in my belly.

I love just lying here running my hand along her back, or rubbing her tush, or playing with her sweet little feet. As she hiccuped tonight, I rubbed her back and tried to soothe her, though I think she just had to get them out of her system before she'd settle down.

It's a funny thing to say, since we haven't really "met" her yet, but Owen and I really like this baby a whole lot. We feel like we're already getting to know her, that she's really quickly becoming a part of our family.

Now, if only we could find her name...

Time, Time, Time, See What's Become Of Me

Six years ago today Owen and I met for the first time.

February 7, 1999--it was a Sunday, and I had just joined the ComedySportz Austin improv troupe the week before. This was the date of our first full-cast rehearsal, and it was a fun, fine time. In the midst of it, there was a shout from the back of the room, and everyone turned around and yelled "Owen!" as a fuzzy, red-haired, red-bearded guy bounded in. He'd been off on a road trip with his trusty orange VW van, and had just gotten back into town in time for the rehearsal.

He immediately came to the table I was sitting at and plopped himself down next to me in a chair and said, "Hi, I'm Owen."

I think back now and imagine time freezing, a soft glow coming over the room, and a voiceover announcing, "Six years from today you'll be married, expecting your first child, and buying your first house...."

I imagine it would have made one of us (...ahem...) hop right back up and bounce out of the room.

But here we are. This morning, we closed on our house. We are officially homeowners--a piece of South Austin land is now ours. And the whole closing process was so delightful and easy--a bunch of signatures, handing over a big check, lots of chatting and storytelling, and in the end an extra $110 coming our way due to some little errors in our favor--not bad at all!

And so, we prepare to move. We look forward to our dishwasher, our central air and heat, our beautiful wood floors and ceilings and walls, our two bathrooms, our groovy decks and lush front yard... our very own happy, cozy little home.

Three Signs I'm Growing Larger

1. Everytime I wash dishes, I end up with a wet belly.

2. Trying to warm myself over our small room heater (next week we move into central-heat-land!), I accidentally burned the underside of my belly, not knowing that it stuck so far out. Don't worry, it's just a tiny flesh wound.

3. When I wake up in the middle of the night with shooting pains in my back and hip and a desperate need to pee, I actually lie there trying to convince myself that it's not really that bad...all because I don't want to have to deal with the movement required to get out of bed or roll to the other side.

THIRTY WEEKS

Today I am 30 weeks pregnant.

Thirty weeks.

Wow. I mean, pregnancy's only 40 weeks long. 42 at the very most. And now, I'm 3/4 of the way done. I have only 10 weeks left until my due date. That's absolutely amazing. It's hard to believe. We're really going to meet this little baby soon soon soon.

As I enter into this final quarter of pregnancy, Owen and I are starting to think on actually having this baby and all that entails--welcoming this little person into our world, expanding our notion of family, and of course experiencing the actual birth itself. Lanell, our doula and birthing class instructor, shared this piece with us this week which has really struck me, and which I wanted to share. I'm going to print out a copy and carry it with me over the next ten weeks, use it as a guide as we think towards our little one's birth-day. It's about what the author, Pam England, considers to be the Four Pillars of Birth, and I think it's really powerful stuff.

GREAT FAITH, GREAT DOUBT, GREAT DETERMINATION AND GREAT LOVE.

1. GREAT FAITH. I suggest to parents that this Faith has to be based in something unchanging and constant, something they can call on or depend on regardless of changing external circumstances. We want to believe(absolutely) that "labor is a normal process and trust that our bodies will labor normally," but even healthy bodies are sometimes unpredictable and fallible, especially in new and stressful situations. To put "all" of your faith in the (relative) belief that "labor IS normal and my body can do it" is not enough. Look deeply into what Great Faith means to you, and how you will draw from it if labor holds a surprise for you, if your body--in spite of your will and right efforts--cannot birth easily. What will you have Faith in no matter how labor unfolds?

2. GREAT DOUBT. It has been said that doubt strengthens faith. Have you found that to be true for you? Everyone has at least one lurking doubt about taking this great journey into the unknown, whether it's about themself or the birth culture. Look into, sit with what you don't quite believe or trust. After descending into the "long, dark night of the soul" and facing doubt, faith is unshakable (at least for a while). If you minimize or discount your doubt, sometimes in an effort to "look good" or feel confident, your faith remains surface-deep.

3. GREAT DETERMINATION. What is it parents should be determined to do or be in labor? Some mothers / parents are determined to birth normally, while others are resolute about getting their epidural at 4 cm, or to achieve some other specific outcome. Sometimes a parent's intention is realized, but who can say whether it was "their" determination or grace that brought about desired results? What happens to Great Determination if the determination was limited to birth normally and that wasn't what was happening? What would you be determined to do then? You see, your Great Determination should arise from and be directed toward your inner life, and be applicable to "every" situation. Great Determination has nothing to do with achieving a desired physical outcome. It is much bigger than that. I suggest parents make a commitment to bring Great Determination to birth-in-awareness, or to do whatever needs to be done next with their whole heart, or something along these lines. Don't wait for labor to practice. Bring that commitment to your everyday life now!

4. GREAT LOVE. I suggest that one of the ways parents may experience Great Love in labor is through the practice of embracing whatever is arising moment-to-moment. One way to do this, even in the midst of intensely hard work and in spite of surprising physical and emotional challenges labor often brings, is to ask yourself again and again, "How am I bringing my love to this moment?" It takes Great Determination and commitment to stay with this practice-especially in the midst of labor!

There's no need to become unrealistically idealistic here. This practice constructively re-directs our thinking. If you actually did it fully for five consecutive minutes in a day, it would be amazing! But even remembering and forgetting throughout the day, the effort to remember, raises consciousness and opens our hearts.

It's not reasonable to expect to get through labor without at least one moment of fear-if not waves of it. This is unavoidable because our socialization and our ability to think leads all of us (parents and professionals) to worry, and thus engage in avoiding or achieving. Anticipation, planning, and worry about a not-yet-unfolded labor keeps us from laboring and relaxing in-the-moment. Holding on to an absolute-intention for a certain outcome gives rise to fear of failure; all energy is then directed toward avoiding a particular outcome. It has been said that in the absence of fear-thinking, there is only love, great love.

Written by Pam England C 2000, Birthing From Within -reprinted with permission from newsletter