Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Week 20: Chugging along

I picked up the wok after what seemed like a century of absence from the kitchen. I'd finally gotten fed up with all the junk we were eating outside - fried koay teow, mediocre fried rice, Japanese, steak - and the indecision that goes along with deciding where to eat. I was also starting to get a little worried about my intake of calcium, greens and fruits; not sufficient is putting it mildly. So off I went to the nearest Cold Storage on a grocery spree.

My fried rice last night could give Little Penang a run for its money. It was just as I predicted: I CAN cook better fried rice than that place. But then again I've never doubted my ability with a wok, a pot or a frying pan or even an oven. It's just my inherent laziness that gets in the way; if only cooking were less hassle and didn't take up so much space and time.

At least the blob can rest assured it had a home-cooked meal devoid of MSG.

According to the books, it should be about 16cm in length by now. I still haven't felt any movement from it yet, not anything that I can tell from the outside anyway. It seems to have a penchant for the left of my uterus; I'm quite sure my bump's skewed to the left. When I cough or sneeze too hard, I get a stitch on the left.

It's getting harder to bend down and lifting my feet to scrub them in the shower is getting to be a chore. I try to sit as straight as possible so that my bump isn't all scrunched up and the little tyke in there has room to move. Flats are definitely easier on my legs and feet now than even low heels. The boobs still seem to be expanding and sweat can now gather freely and uncontrolled under their weight. My usage of talcum powder has increased in a tangent with the sweat. It's just about now that I'm wishing I'd bought some padded maternity/nursing bras because the nipples just won't back down. I'm tempted to get some inserts just so to stop the peaks from peeping out from under my tops.

I still can't eat too much of a full meal at dinnertime. If I do, I need to walk it off or Rizal would have to contend with my moans and whines after dinner; doesn't seem like my metabolic rate is picking up, my stamina either. At the end of my cooking session last night, I was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf from the fable, The Three Little Pigs.

I'm still hit by inexplicable waves of tiredness at odd times of the day and now, when it's really quiet, I can feel my heart going at it as if I was in a triathlon. I was looking forward to starting prenatal yoga with a friend's instructor, however that plan has been shelved because the instructor found out she was pregnant and bleeding so classes have been canceled. Talk about a weird twist of fate. I'm now on the lookout for other venues for prenatal yoga. I need to do SOMETHING to ease the dull throb at the base of my tailbone.

I'm looking forward to next week's detailed scan. I hope we'll be able to tell whether it's a girl or a boy. We can then move on to choosing names; I simply will not go through the trouble of going through every list of girls' AND boys' names to choose something suitable. Referring to the baby as the blob is also getting a bit old. The girl or the boy sounds so much more personable. I just hope the boy, as in Pixel the cat, doesn't develop an identity crisis.





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