TMI Friday!

It's Friday again (well it is in Australia), which means two things for this Momma: Firstly it's time to link up to my bloggy friend Tropical Mum who lives Across The Pond (not the usual pond I'm talking about) with a bit of witticism and Mommy mirth. Secondly it's time to spread my knees (if you please) and let the Doc check out if the Little Miss is making headway - so to speak.     

Baby is 36 weeks old today, so the count down to push time is most definitely on. A spontaneous pants wetting episode at the start of the week had Momma thinking baby's bubble had burst - but after a bit of Googling and a call to the nurse practitioner I'm now pretty convinced my amniotic sac wasn't responsible for saturating my skivvies - or for the puddle on the bathroom floor. We shall say no more. Nevertheless I'm somewhat eager to get my cervix checked out today. It feels close.

Last Friday I had my first vaginal check this pregnancy, which started out with the somewhat invasive strep B test. After swabbing a pugil-stick inside my vagina (no biggy) and a chocolate starfish sweep (a touch more embarrassing), the Doc caught me completely off guard by politely asking if I wanted my cervix checking.

I've never been asked before. I thought it was standard procedure for the Gyno to get their hands dirty at this stage. I hesitated. It's easy for me to over-think these situations: Why did she ask me? Doesn't she want to check? Of course she doesn't - why would any woman voluntarily stick her hand up inside a stranger's vagina!?!  

I couldn't do it - much like waxing bikini lines for a living - dealing with my own vagina is plenty enough punani for me, thank you very much. Yes, I realize it's beautiful (yahda yahda)  just like a flower... 

What a crock! It's got to be one of the ugliest 'attractions' known to man but for some reason nearly every man on earth loves to leer at those ghoulish red creases. I just can't fathom how that and Beyonce can both be deemed beautiful! 

hmmm, rose or vagina?

Beautiful Beyonce

Of course I'm not complaining. There are many kinky kick-backs to having your man mad about your muff! 

It's a magnanimous mystery that mother nature should let men (and a few lucky ladies)  look upon our vaginas through rose tinted spectacles. Sadly I'd be a pretty poor lesbian - I'm sure I'm missing out.

But how game are the Gynos really? Surely they are gluttons for punani punishment - they must encounter a million muffs a day! And they chose this profession! Even the male docs must get vaginad out by the end of the day.

Friends' vagina Doc sums it up on his date with Rachel the waitress: "Okay, all right, well aren't there times when you come home at the end of the day, and you're just like, "If I see one more cup of coffee..."

Back of the bathroom door instructions for
collecting a clean midstream urine sample.

Much like our faces, each coochi must be different - of varying degrees of ugliness. And I'm guessing that muff maintenance and cleanliness is not always up to scratch (and sniff) - especially in this Texas heat. The Gyno-clinic must be humming like Grimbsy fish docks by mid-August!    

That's got to be the real reason behind the mid-stream (clean catch) collection instructions posted on the back of all the bathroom doors in the building. If I had to have my head hovering around vaginas all day long I'd definitely want to make sure all the ladies had thoroughly wiped their fannies first!  

I have to say, punani protocol when it comes to pap smears and giving birth has always been a bit of a quandary for me. For my first labor I went for the fairly normal 'bearded clam' approach - we're not talking a full on long beard here - more of a genital goatee. 

a  bit like this....

OK, perhaps not quite so straggly as Brad's chin pubes but hopefully you get the idea! 

Then the last go round I went all out with a bare muff! Don't be shocked - I was hoping for a bit of regrowth by my due date but the little man was eager to be outta my beaver.  

I'm curious about how all you other Mommas out there presented yourselves for your births? Did you trim, or shave, or wax? And if so, how much is too much? I mean - is a shaven haven a little sluttish for a birth? Or is it just sensible for vagina visibility? I realize back in the day there was little to no pubic preening - or leg shaving for that matter. A bit of rug burn on the way out must have been par to the course.       

When exactly did our feminine fringes become so unattractive? After all it's such a natural thing. But it's no longer just our pubic hair that's causing offence. All of a sudden our actual vaginas and even our buttholes have come to the attention of the beauty industry. A muddy starfish is no longer acceptable - not when you can peroxide that peripheral! The first I'd heard of butt bleaching was earlier this year. Then I stumbled across vajazzing - and I'm blown away. You can even firm up those flaps and give your labia a lift! 

Many years ago back in the UK there used to be a Friday night late show called Eurotrash that showed you all the wacky sexual eccentricities that our European neighbours were into - I remember one week it featuring a waxing salon that would shape your pubic patch into any pattern you wished and even tie in a bow if you so desired. The exclusive service had to be performed with the customer on all fours so that all the hairs in all the folds and crannies - butthole included - could be accessed easily for a clean wax!   

No longer an obscure fettish, vajazzing is getting to be a trendy business! Has the world gone mad or is it high time we put a bit more vigilance into vajazzing our vaginas? We've been making-up our faces for centuries now, and we're all happy to fancy-up our feet - what's so wrong with garnishing our gashes for the guys? After all, don't we want it to look good enough to eat?

Are our fellas behind this push for beautifying our bits - or are other women behind this new fangled fancy? 

Perhaps the OBs have orchestrated it all! 

So, back to last week; I'm laying back trying to think of England with only a swift uneven shave of my bikini region to show for my vaginal efforts. Should I have dressed up down there?    

     

I was dying to know if baby girl's head was down, but it seemed a little forward to eagerly reply; "Yes, please!" so I tried to muster a casual (and very British); "If you wouldn't mind.." 

It's not the most pleasant experience, having a hand reaching right back to your cervix - in fact sometimes the Doc's probing can be pretty painful. Trying to maintain my dignity, I've always endured these internal exams without wincing, and usually I prattle on about something irrelevant - making out like I don't even notice that her hand is stuffing me like a Christmas turkey! 

All the while I'm thinking about those poor cows who often have a vet's arm - sometimes both arms - stuck inside all the way up to their elbows! And inevitably I cant help my unruly thoughts flitting to the pornographic practice of fisting for fun - I mean WTF? 

Even after two vaginal births - two fingers pushing against the back wall of my vagina is enough to make my eyes water - I can't conceive of how a clenched fist could be physically possible, let alone enjoyable! If the poor OB could read Momma's messed-up mind wanderings I'm sure she'd have security remove me from the building!!

I got the info I was wanting: head down (you go girl!), 50% effaced, 1cm dilated, everything feels soft.

Basically we're good to go! So now I have to figure out how I want my hooch to look for the actual birth. It's kind of like deciding whether or not to go for an up-do for your wedding day, only a much smaller group of folks will actually get to admire the handiwork. 

I've been playing about with the idea of watching the birth through a mirror this time around, so I can see the crowning glory for myself. Perhaps for performance purposes I'll be better able to push if I'm proud of my preened punani - a bejeweled box with bows might be a tad bit distracting for Momma, although what a way for my little diva to make her way into the world!

Talk about making an entrance! 

What do you think ladies (and I'd love to hear what the gents have to say on this hairy issue also)? We've talked about waxing our tashes - how about waxing our asses?!

34 weeks: BIG and CHUNKY!

Following my blog entry back in April Chunky Momma's back! I started a much healthier eating regime. Out with the sugar and the corn and the bad carbs and in with the whole grains, legumes and veg.

It wasn't only the 7lb weight gain I'd experienced over the four weeks since the previous Gyno visit that spurred the diet, but the imminent glucose testing (blogged about in Oh, sugar!) had me running scared also.

In the end I declined the test - rebel that I am - and fortunately I didn't have to go back and face the Doc until mid-May. But when my May check came around - I couldn't believe it - 7lb weight gain AGAIN!

WTF?! That was 14lbs gained in two months. Madagascar's Moto Moto would have no problem hittin' this hefty Momma I'm sure!


I'm not so sure that 'plumpy plumpy' does it for daddy tho....

My wholesome mock 'diabetes' diet was helping me pack on the pounds - not what I'd had in mind - surely this was going to go against my argument for nixing the glucose test!

I went in ready to fight for my right to refuse but - in spite of my rapid weight gain - the Doc was perplexingly pragmatic about my reticence to do the extended glucose testing. We compromised on two staggered fasting blood sugar tests.

DEAL!

So in early June, after a begrudging 12 hour fast - we went back in to do my blood work. It seemed churlish to refuse, after all, I was due for the whole bloody kit and kaboodle again. It had been at least three months since my last HIV test (I must have been HIV tested seven times or more in the four years I've lived in Texas. Between three pregnancies and my green card application, they're certainly not taking any chances on me!)   

In a strange turn up for the books, this time those suspect scales showed I'd lost a whopping 7lbs since my previous visit only two weeks earlier. I was still on my wholesome diet - nothing else had changed as far as I could tell. Why then, was my weight going up and down like a whore's drawers?

Was I holding my handbag on the previous check? It wouldn't surprise me! Or perhaps the fact I was running on empty had something to do with it? A cheeky black coffee had assisted in an unusually elaborate early morning clear out also - I'd wager a two pound turd is not impossible considering Momma's not so meager portions - so perhaps it wasn't such an erroneous reading after all!

Regardless, the trusty tape measure tummy check - a very standard and thought to be reliable prenatal check - was once again 'on the money', so my Doc seemed unconcerned by my weight flip-flopping.

Thankfully, by last week's visit, everything was back to 'normal'. I'd increased a few pounds - as expected - and my fasting blood sugar results were perfect (they still want to repeat it again at 36 weeks, of course.. just to make sure).

At 34 weeks gestation, my overall weight gain is at 27lbs. And what with the general guide (or is it limit?) being 1lb/week, then I've got 7lbs (with apparently an error of +/- 7lbs) to play with! Wahoo! Surely that's my license to stuff my face...?

Not on your Nelly lady! I admit, since hearing my blood sugar results, I've let my diligence drop a wee bit on the sweets ban - a celebratory slurp of the hubs' Dr Pepper in the car, a nibble of a cupcake at the cuz's shower - and then there was that illicit IHOP tryst - surely it can't hurt, right....?

It's a slippery slope Momma! On the whole I'm still exercising incredible discipline when it comes to my sweet desires! Only 6 weeks to go now - and I owe it to my baby girl to go the distance.

Besides, I'm already feeling plenty plumpy enough! I don't want to get too hot (and hefty) for the hubs to handle!