Um... How did my ribs get there?

My ribs have moved to a new location.  I mean, they aren’t in my legs or anything, but they have definitely spread apart.  And, much like the doctor telling me last year that miscarrying would be like “normal period cramps,” I feel completely unprepared for this.  After doing some research, I have determined it is normal.  It seems the ribs spread to make more room for your lungs, which are moving to make more room for the baby as he fattens up, all Hansel and Gretel style.  What I don’t understand is: Why didn’t anyone tell me my ribs were going to move?  I mean, holy shit.  My ribs have been in the same place for 30 years, then, all of a sudden, they are further apart.  I attributed that dress I like being tight around the chest because my boobs are getting bigger, but no.  It’s probably because my rib cage is spreading so wide it is going to open up and swallow the universe or something.

So, let this serve as a warning to any of you who are pregnant for the first time, thinking about getting pregnant for the first time, or just never really noticed before: your ribs are going to move.  Since I noticed this last night, I keep checking them to make sure they are still there/haven’t moved any further.  I mean, it’s so weird.

Okay.  I’m done.  Probably.

I saw the midwife the other day.  She moved to a new office and has a new assistant who is delightful and hilarious!  I like my midwife because, even if she doesn’t think I am as funny as I do, she does an excellent job pretending.  Like, after I drank the orange drank (aka glucose cocktail, which tasted like an orange otter pop before it was frozen) she had a list of stuff to go over with me.  She asked me if we had thought about birth control for post-baby and I said, “I’ve traditionally relied on my personality, but that didn’t work so well this time.”  Apparently in her 27 years delivering babies, she’s never heard that.  I then proceeded to tell her about my three-tier birth control plan that kept me child-free throughout my twenties.  1) Personality.  2) Condoms. 3) The pill/patch/ring thing (I tried them all.  Used the pill the most.  I have sensitive skin and the patch gave me a rash and, as far as the ring goes… I felt weird leaving something in my vagina for three weeks at a time).  If you are interested in not getting pregnant, I can attest that, if followed per the instructions on each package, it works!  Amazingly!  Though, it is possible that not all of you have the personality that wards off potential suitors.  Worry not!  I can teach you.  For me, it mostly consists of saying questionable things at inappropriate times, like when I made that rape joke at the dog park a few weeks ago.  But really, if you’re going to dress your dog in a collar like that, what do you expect?

My midwife has done two deliveries at the new hospital she is delivering at.  She said that both went really well and that the staff were very supportive and more curious than anything else, because they haven’t had a midwife at that hospital before.  We chose a hospital-based midwife because Mr. Adventure has a beautiful daughter that had complications during birth and when things go wrong, they tend to go wrong rather quickly, so he wants a hospital birth.  I want an all-natural home birth, so we compromised.  We also looked at a birthing center that is very close to one of the hospitals, but it was a little bit too tie-dye and patchouli for my tastes (and I spent a lot of my late teens and early twenties going to Rainbow Gatherings and the Oregon Country Fair).  But it worked out because I love my midwife.  I trust her and her experience and I’ve never felt like that in a medical office before.

We also started talking birth plan, which is great because I’ve been reading a lot about that lately and my understanding is that you want to be succinct and not repeat any information that is routinely done in the hospital.  You only want to include information where it deviated from the normal routine and don’t use a condescending tone because you will only irritate the nurses.  No one likes to be told how to do their job by an amateur.  I also read that nurses love baked goods, which is true.  My mom was a nurse for a million years.  (Hell, the ladies in my lab love baked goods.  I think science and treats just go hand-in-hand, although, science is a treat in and of itself, of course).  So, if you have time, bake the nurses some cookies before you go to the hospital.  If not, have your partner or someone on Team Baby go and pick something up from the local bakery.

Anyway, my midwife has a birth plan form that her patients fill out and it goes into their chart so when you call the hospital to let them know you’re on your way, the nurses have already read it.  My midwife highlights things in it that she thinks are super especially important and it asks things like, if you prefer to labor at home as long as possible, if you prefer dim lights, low noise, your own music, how you want your contractions monitored, if you mind medical students coming in and staring at your lady bits and poking you in the belly, your pain tolerance, whether you want a medication-free birth and how committed you are to that feeling and so on.  It also has a ton of questions about how you want the baby treated like if you want to hold him while initial exams are being done, whether you want the eye ointment, vitamin K shot and hep B shot and so on.  So, it’s a lot of information put into a very neat format that the nursing staff can look at quickly to get the information they need without having to read excess verbiage, unlike this post.

And I am slated to learn even more when we start our 7 week Confident Birthing class in July.  It’s a three hour class once a week.  Mr. Adventure isn’t very excited about it.  I told him he is allowed to complain all he wants the way there and the way back, but not during the class.  I’m excited because, as labor comes closer and closer, I can’t really avoid thinking about it anymore and, much like the movement of my rib cage, the thought of it is kind of freaking me out.

That is all.