A Swell Time

Maybe it's the summer heat and humidity or just the desk-bound life I lead, but this past week I've had a lot more swelling in my legs and ankles. Even to the point that taking my little walks from the train or thinking of cruising Central Park with Nacho have made me sigh with exhaustion before I've even begun. And yet every morning, just like magic, I can raise my feet in the air while lying in bed and they have miraculously returned to their normal size with hardly a bulging vein to see. I guess that's the reality of pregnancy with 40-50% more blood volume swishing around my body, most of it feels like it's in my "cankles" by nightfall and the commute home is especially slow and laborious. It almost feels like I have ankle weights tied to me like some bad Jane Fonda exercise video.

Of course, I've been told these fluids rapidly deplete in the weeks after birth. Mostly through sweat which I'm really looking forward to (as if I wasn't already sopping wet on the subway each day). But I suppose it's the fastest way to lose 10lbs. so I won't be complaining. The real joy will be when I have the spring back in my step and a little one tied up papoose-style and can enjoy the cooler weather this fall. That's what's keeping me smiling as I sit and sweat sauna-style back and forth each day, propping my feet up at night. All this too shall pass...or at least go down by morning.

Taking Classes

Last weekend Nacho and I participated in a childbirth preparation class at the very popular RealBirth center in mid-town Manhattan. Considering this was the same weekend his childhood friends in Spain were celebrating a riotous bachelor party, I suppose the contrast was especially fitting. We both knew the time was dwindling for us to get some instruction on what to expect throughout labor and after our NYU Meet the Doctors night last week, it was becoming clearer to me that having another perspective to guide us through this would be very important to our overall birth experience.

The instructor of our two-day birthing extravaganza was a "doula," or labor coach, who resembled Annette Benning or possibly Cokie Roberts, but with more of a yoga instructor's physical presence and a clear agenda of making birth sound like the most natural, "mammalian" act possible. She spent a good portion of the class asking about our goals and preconceptions about different aspects of labor and then showing videos, charts, and lots of massage techniques to help us understand ways to have a labor we could not only endure, but perhaps enjoy. I wouldn't say she completely converted me to the drug-free concept of labor, but after watching a lot of ugly people giving birth in the mostly 80s-inspired videos, I felt like this was a much more manageable process and maybe one I could try without running into Labor & Delivery screaming for an epidural.

Reality of course says that if 90% of the NYU births involve epis (as statistics show), I will be among them. But somehow the rebel in me wants to resist--at least as long as I can. There are so many reasons why having a needle in my spine and laboring on my back don't sound particularly appealing, but mostly I think that if I've had these childbirthin' hips since puberty, they ought to be good for something. And the progression of medical intervention into more and more "normal" labors does sound like something out of a Brave New World when you realize how many women of my generation are getting inductions, epidurals and c-sections without perhaps understanding there are alternatives. So, we'll see. This could be the post I live to regret. But for now, I'm feeling well-educated if nothing else, and really that's about all I can do until I see what this whole fuss is all about.

Timing is everything

Now that we're in the homestretch, so to speak, lots of small considerations have become BIG issues. Things like finally taking our childbirth preparation class (next weekend--yay!), making space in our bedroom for all the baby stuff, and planning our leaves of absence from work (yes, Nacho is joining me in that department--if only for a month). But while I might be most concerned with when to have my mom fly up before the baby is born or making sure that we actually have her clothes laundered beforehand, Nacho has a more pressing concern--making sure this baby arrives before the U.S. Open begins.

On Friday he bought tickets for his family to go and watch the men's quarterfinals on September 4th, which has him almost as excited as Spain winning the Euro Cup two weeks ago. Since his mom, Pauli, Ignacio, Kiki and Amaia are all flying over on September 3rd, we've actually been almost as excited planning their trip as we have been thinking about the upcoming birth. This will be their first visit to see us in NYC (except for Amaia who has made it over twice already), so we're looking forward to seeing them again and getting to spend time with them on our turf. And while I wouldn't begrudge Nacho getting to go to the U.S. Open (afterall, I went last year with Protima to watch Federer beat Rodick), I can't help but think that if it came down to me being a week and a half overdue and in labor vs. getting to watch Rafa or Roger...well, let's just say that's a choice I don't want to force. Not sure I'd come out victorious.

"...I'm just big-boned."

Since I haven't been traveling much these days, here's a photo for those of you who haven't seen the expanding waistline!

As Nacho kindly put it, "I really thought you'd be bigger by now." Ah, what a sweetheart...I think. But don't worry, the last month will be the best, or so I'm told. Gaining somewhere in the neighborhood of 1-2 lbs. a week (with 1/2 a lb. going straight to Elisa's bum), I'm sure I'll get big enough to impress Nacho. Just wait.

The Countdown Begins...

So, I'm not sure why I decided to start blogging today about a baby that has yet to arrive. But my hope is that by the time she gets here, I'll have this up and running and can keep everyone far and near up-to-date on her progress. Of course, that baby would be the daughter Nacho and I have taken to calling Elisa. She is already almost 34 weeks old (for those counting at home) and has developed into quite the little alien kicking machine.

I thought the onset of summer would make me completely miserable, but I have to admit that so far, so good. I'm not sure any woman who's 8 months pregnant is entirely comfortable, but I haven't been feeling too put upon. Yes, the subway ride is stiffling and the feet are swollen by night's end, but then that's part of city living where feet are transportation and the seasons bring all kinds of temperature differentials above and below ground. Being pregnant just means, I MIGHT have a better shot at a seat on the train!

Having said that, we just spent the holiday weekend pingponging between IKEA and Target, getting the apartment ready for her arrival (or at least starting to). Seeing how much we have already taken in (from very generous friends and family) I am feeling pretty excited about actually USING this stuff! It's amazing how close August is getting, and while her due date is August 20, 2008, I'm sure Elisa will pick the right moment to make her big entrance.