January 20, 2012
Baby, Health, Pregnancy
The baby is fashionably late.
I hope this is not an indicator of how long she will take to get ready in the future…but it’s kind of cute. She has everyone wrapped over her little finger already, so many people are calling to ask if she is here yet…(no, not yet). Furhermore a few people who were due after me already had their babies so I am literally thinking that I am the only one left…Since I am hormonal and fed-up with waiting a have a few times burst into tears when I heard that someone had their baby (so far…4 people did! FOUR!!!)
The conclusion I came to is that the baby just doesn’t want to share her birthdate with anyone yet. She is just sitting tight and waiting for the right moment.
Meanwhile I have been following a lot of advice on how to get things going (but as you see none of it has helped yet…). I’ve eaten a chilli pineapple salad that consists of cubed pineapple, lemon, chilli flakes, sweet chilli sauce and a little coriander. A really strange combination. The baby kicked up a storm after I ate it (she must have tasted the chilli) but it did not give her any “evacuation” ideas. Other than that I’ve been trying to go for walks once or twice a day, although this doesnt directly help you go into labor it does take some of the anxiety off and keep you fit- so why not? I’ve also been going to my yoga classes (yes I am the most pregnant lady there) and I even treated myself to a facial and a massage one of the days when I thought I just couldn’t take it anymore and needed to let off some steam!
So the baby may take her sweet time making an entrance but the doctors are not letting me go past Sunday evening. Although the idea of a medical induction terrifies me somewhat I am also kind of glad there is finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
So this may be my last post in my “forever pregnant” status as come Monday morning (if all goes according to plan) I should finally be done with being pregnant.
40 weeks people. 4o. Weeks. You do the maths…
January 11, 2012
Baby, Children, Friends, Health, My Cynthia, Pregnancy, Rants
Pregnancy- day two hundred seventy freakin’ three. No seriously. I am still pregnant.
although I am not overdue (yet…) statistics do show that most first time mothers give birth a week or two before their due date, the same darn statistics that promised me that only 5% of women deliver on the actual due date that has been forecast.
Yet, here I am. Excited, nervous and oh-so-sick of waiting. (Not to mention bloated, uncomfortable, tired, swollen…just peachy basically…)
I read somewhere that the most common craving that pregnant women have is not to be pregnant. That might seem a little over the top but trust me 9 months into it even the most “sunshine-up-their-butts” mothers start to feel like this just can’t end soon enough. The exhaustion you feel is both mental and physical, your mind is constantly replaying possibilities of “what could go wrong in labor” and your body aches from your toes to the ends of your hair.
I also miss the little things. Like seeing my feet when I look down, fitting into my clothes and shoes or simply getting out of bed without having to roll to the side and readjust the 4 pillows that are prompting my back. Ugh.
The general opinion here (amongst husband and family) is that I still have time and the baby will come out when she needs to and when she decides. But wait, I though I was the boss of this baby- why can’t she come out when I want her to? I pick now. Or at least today. Please?
I have friends calling me every single day asking me if she is here yet or every time I call one of them they thing it’s only because I am in labor…nope…still pregnant…just wanted to say hello. The conversation I have with My Cynthia everyday is a straight replay out of Shrek ” Are we there yet? ” ….” No not yet”….”What about now”….”Still not”….It’s rediculous.
I apologize if you were expecting a touchy-feely post about how prepared and excited we are to welcome our daughter any day now and instead you got stuck reading the rantings of a sick-and-oh-so-tired pregnant woman. Believe you me, we are ready. The bed is made, the hospital bags packed, the baby bottles sterilized and even the video camera is charged. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands…just waiting for the grand entrance now.
I shall keep you posted.
October 21, 2011
Health, Oman, Pregnancy
Yes. I am still here. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.
I am just working. A lot. Buzzing around running errands. Housewifing. Working. Did I mention I’ve been working a lot? Perhaps the only pregnant thing I’ve been doing recently is the yoga. Oh I am enjoying pregnancy yoga so much. It’s the one and half hours a week when I don’t have to answer emails, think about work, responding to my madly beeping BlackBerry, huff and puff in the kitchen…I don’t have to do anything except breath-stretch-and-focus-on-the-baby.
I would absolutely recommend it. The only issue I have with yoga is that every Sunday evening I am reminded that yet another week flew by (whooooosh). Sunday after Sunday. I am subconsciously reminding myself to keep calm every time yet another Sunday approaches. I have a little under three months left and at the rate that time is currently going…I am not even going to notice them zoom past me.
The experts call the second trimester “The Honeymoon” stage of pregnancy. At this stage expecting mothers don’t exactly have many complaints (hopefully!). I am feeling well enough to get through 9 hours of work and come home full of energy to carry on with the dinner, the tidying up or to even go out! I haven’t exactly become any slower at work either. I seriously though by the 6th month I would not be bothered to drive, to meet people, to run around like a headless chicken, to constantly deal with DRAMA…but I am finding rather bearable. So far so good. I’ve decided to stay at work for as long as I physically can and when the giant stomach or the lack of energy becomes too much of a burden I will go on maternity leave. I fundamentally plan to return to work a few months after the baby is born. I realize this isn’t the right choice for every woman and it depends on so many personal factors and trust me, I have considered them all and made the decision to go back to work shortly after we have the baby. I have a lot of hands on board…my family is here…my mother in law will visit us for a few months to help with the baby. So it isn’t exactly like I will be relying on a questionable babysitter to raise my child- we just have a very big family and loads of people are willing to help.
Talking about help. I wanted to share a very pleasant experience with you. (See, I can do more than rant!). This morning whilst buying a few groceries (ahem…a few dozen bags of groceries) in Sultan Center, I encountered perhaps the best service I have ever experienced. Yes. It was 100% down to the fact that I was pregnant and grocery shopping alone. I got out of lines…the staff went out of their way to accommodate me, they even brought me a trolley! As I was heading out of the store to my car one of the staff took the trolley from me, drove it to my car, unloaded my bags into my car and pushed the trolley away. (Yes, I did give him 200bz for his efforts).
It may have been sheer pity…but I will take pity over “standing-in-long-supermarket-lines” anyday! 🙂
October 3, 2011
Baby, Health, Oman, Pregnancy
Yesterday I attended my first ever (pregnancy) yoga class. Closing in on my 6th month now I was getting quite achy and restless (see the house moving post) and felt that I needed to vent and channel my energy into something positive like my health. I came to know about this yoga class at the Hayati Spa because my little brother attends their Karate Classes and I happened to pick up a schedule of classes sometime back. Also a reader suggested I try it out and highly recommended the teacher- Karen.
I could not join them sooner because Pregnancy Yoga classes start at 6pm and that is exactly when I finish work, but miraculously since the 1st of October our working hours have decreased and I am now as free as a bird by 5:30pm! I was seriously excited about this class because deep inside I am an untamed hippy-yoga/saving the planet/Greenpeace and all. Plus, some exercise definitely can’t hurt!
The Hayati Salon is a very nice place, well-lit, cozy and professional. Our pregnancy yoga class has about 8 women in it all between 24 weeks and 34 weeks pregnant. I was quite unprepared for how aware of my pregnancy I became during the class. With Karen constantly reminding us to “focus on the baby” or “direct your breathing at the baby”, I was suddenly completely consumed with the thought of THE BABY. Normally, because my days are so hectic and I have absolutely no time to think about it I only get to focus on THE BABY between 8pm and 10pm. It turns out that being surrounded by bulging bellies really puts things into perspective.
I would highly recommend this class to everyone who is expecting and don’t worry if you have never done yoga before- it isn’t critical. The most important lesson for me that evening was remembering to breath- deep long breaths and exhaling. The poses you will get into are by no means difficult- generally it is just a lot of stretching and balancing. I felt a lot better after, since I spend about 8 hours of my working day behind the computer- my back exhibited gratitude by cracking in 4 different places! Oh and being pregnant makes it very hard to balance on my leg- the stomach keeps tipping you over.
Here is their schedule and contacts if you feel like giving it a try(click to enlarge):
August 27, 2011
Health, Oman, Pregnancy, Rants
This could turn out to be a raving/raging post (yet again) about hospitals in Oman but because I currently lack the energy to be angry…I shall refrain from typing in CAPS and cursing after every second word.
A disclaimer: a first-time expectant mother will worry about every little thing that doesn’t “feel right”. She does not necessarily need to be in agonizing pain or in a life threatening situation to be rushed to the hospital. Sometimes a light fever and consecutive dizzy spells are all that’s needed to seek medical attention.
So there I am (at work-that’s where) on Wednesday morning when all of a sudden I begin to feel a little feverish and simply “off”. I also had a few other symptoms that should solemnly remain between me and doctor so that half the world is not grossed out. After fighting the sinking feeling that maybe this isn’t simple fatigue I caved and called a fellow doctor- who in turn told me to go to the nearest clinic and get checked out “just to be on the safe side”.
I seriously told my superior I will be back in an hour because I am going for a quick check up. (I should have said Inshallah at this point.) Alex picked me up and we went to the nearest clinic as suggested, the closest one being Al Raffah where I am currently registered. On my way there I kept on calling the operator to make sure there is a gyno there I could see. No one picked up. I called about 8 different times. Yes I had the right number- they just didn’t pick up!
As we stormed the lobby of Al Raffah hospital we soon came to learn that there was no gyno on call and my doctor would not be available until 6pm. Because…you know…doctors work in shifts. Apparently it is perfectly acceptable not to have a doctor there for 6 hours at a time!!! They only had a GP- which would have helped if I had a bruise or maybe a sore throat…
Suppressing our anger we drove to the closest hospital from Al Raffah- Muscat Private Hospital. Again, I called them on the way there the operator picked up (Hooray??!!) but the line quickly died when she was transferring me to the “correct” department. Ugh.
I quickly felt like I was having the most surreal déjà vu of my life when we learned that they too did not have a gyno on call because “the entire department was attending a lecture and will only be back in a couple of hours”. Now, please note that both of the above hospitals have DELIVERY WARDS and possibly women going into labor that very instant- but who gives a monkey’s I guess?
I began to feel quite anxious as by that point in time all sorts of nasty scenarios regarding the baby’s health ran through my mind. We did the only thing we could think of. We drove to Sultan Qaboos University Hospital. FIY (if you aren’t local) that hospital is 45 minutes away. Make that 1h and 25 minutes when you are driving there at 2:30pm just as about everybody in Muscat is leaving work and heading home.
Keeping a long story short- we finally found ourselves registering at the Accidents and we Emergencies department of SQUH and they quickly send me to get my blood pressure and temp measured (both were high!). The nurse (an attentive young man) was however very reassuring and told me that he marked my file as urgent so that the Emergency department makes me their priority. An hour and a half later we are still sitting there. Alex is dying for some water. I keep pacing the waiting area (which is divided into male and female sections). I “borrowed” the chair the security guard was using, by the door, and sat on it with Alex standing responsibly by my side. We seriously watched dozens of people come in and leave, leave and come in again…and we were still waiting. They reassured me that this was unusual and the emergency gyno department was having a rather hard day with 3 women coming in with bleedings and what-nots. Now, had I been in any serious pain or god-forbid bleeding, I am fairly certain they would have seen me sooner. About two hours into our waiting game we began to notice amusing details about the waiting room such as the “Welcome to the Accidents and Emergencies Department” poster- which Alex found hilarious and also the fact that my in-patient bracelet said that I am 170 years old. I thought about telling the doctor that my emergency is “old age” when she asks me what I am in there for.
But other than that when we were finally admitted the doctor was lovely, the nurses were lovely and their approach was absolutely relaxing. Although they did kick daddy out at some point as he was being overly anxious. They did a quick check up, a whole bunch of tests and a quick ultrasound to check the baby’s heartbeat and movements. Everything turned out to be ok at the end.
As we were leaving I received my registration card, neatly typed up to include my admission number, name and get this….”English People” in the nationality field. I laughed at this thinking that now I have a valid document to present to the British Embassy once I apply for my UK passport (because my hospital registration card says I am British- that’s why!). It wasn’t until we paid and received a receipt addressed to an Olga Mubarak (P.S that isn’t my actual last name) that I realized perhaps my dream of obtaining a UK passport might have to be abandoned due to my newly-acquired-obviously-Arab last name.
A little bit of humor can get you a long way.