Seriously — trying to write a blog post in the latter stages of pregnancy is… nuts. Oh I’m sure there is time. Really. But I am so spun about, freaked out, excited, anxious, happy, in awe and otherwise generally wiggin’, that when I get a minute to do something, that minute is occupied by me staring at the TV, or simply staring at the wall, the ceiling, or a book.

Or sleeping.

There has been lots of sleeping lately. I am not usually a nap person — and I am a night person to boot — once I’m up, I’m up. Saturday afternoon, though, I passed out, sitting up, for about 2 and a half hours. And I’m not sick — this time.

Robin has been especially anxious lately as well — but she has more right to it than me.

According to About.com, a Braxton Hicks Contraction

is defined by Taber’s Medical dictionary as an intermittent, painless contraction that may occur every 10 to 20 minutes after the first trimester of pregnancy.

I read this to my wife, and I have to say, the look that crossed her face at the word “painless” was, to be mild, somewhat less than amused. She had her first major one the other day. She’s probably been having them for a while, as she has mentioned previously that she has felt odd tightening sensations across her belly. This one, though, lasted a good couple minutes and made her feel like her stomach was attempting to tie itself in a giant knot. That was just uncomfortable… and a little frightening… but then it squeezed hard enough that her back got mad.

This is a definite recipe for unhappy pregnant lady.

It didn’t improve her mood on the subject when she found out what it was… She was relieved, sure, because it was normal, but then she considered that this was a “practice” contraction. False labour. Not nearly or even remotely as ouchie as the real thing. It probably didn’t help that, when we mentioned it to my little sister, my sister told a story about her best friend getting her first real contraction in the hospital and promptly getting up off the bed and trying to walk out the door saying “Nope. Forget it. I’m not doing this!”

Robin is starting to get worried.

So we went to a different doctor — the day after the last post, as a matter of fact — and got pretty much what I expected. Robin may have bronchitis, but her body is doing ok at fighting it off — and if it comes back, they would prescribe penicillin. Penicillin! The antibiotic that is pretty much safe for anyone to take (unless they are allergic). That’s what the research and the doctors and pharmacists tell me, anyway. The new doctor also reccomended against taking the other pill.

Still no word on why the one that was not proven safe was the first doctor’s first choice.

We are not going to that doctor again.

It was good to get that cleared up and all that — but Robin is still sick. And now so am I… sigh Just a cold for us both now, though — or at least something that resembles a cold and has the added effect of leaving us reeeeaaaaallly tirrrrreeeddddd. Robin is not well enough, according to her OBGYN, that she should stay at home for at least the rest of the week.

Ohhh did that throw a monkeywrench into her plans.

The pregnant lady is not happy.

Just when you think it’s safe to get back in the water…

Just when the world seems like it makes sense…

Just when you feel the need for stupid cliches has passed………

You were wrong.

Yep, you guessed it folks — and even if you didn’t, I’m going to tell you anyway — the (near) blissful (almost) comfort of the past several months (relative to the horror of the first trimester) has come to a sudden and really yucky halt. The Sickness has returned!!! …again!

It has changed form, certainly — but it is back nonetheless. And it is torturing poor Robin with the vengeance of one that has been too long denied.

Well now… this is where I ask myself:

 Do I really want to transfer all of my bad habits to my child?

Seriously. I do some pretty screwy things!

Granted, I don’t drink or do any crazy drugs or smoke or anything like that — but those aren’t the only bad habits in the world. I curse a blue streak, for example. This is a habit I picked up from my mother — although, to be fair, she also instilled in me, very vigorously, the concepts of “a time and place for everything” and “do as I say, not as i do”, which resulted in adults often telling her I was a very polite child — which I was. And am. Unless the situation calls for otherwise. So maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, cursing a blue streak… As long as it is tempered with good sense.

The kid is going to learn the “language” from other kids anyway. And from televsion — and the radio too, nowadays. Don’t even get me started on the interweb. I mean, I was swearing in at least 5 different languages or more by the time I was 9 — and my mother only speaks the one.

So maybe swearing isn’t such a big deal. I’ll just try and temper myself a bit, and attempt to teach the kid good sense.

Good.

Glad we got that covered.

Now what about these other things…?