I know of approximately two people reading this blog who will appreciate what I am about to say.  When I was about 25 weeks pregnant, I noticed for the first time that the baby would startle to loud noises.  The first time I noticed this, I was eating breakfast and text messaging with my good pal Sue before I left for work.  I had my phone sitting on my lap, and when a text message came through, the phone beeped and vibrated.  The baby suddenly jumped, presumably in response to this.  Maybe a week after that, Rob went to turn on the stereo not realizing that the volume was already turned up a tad.  When the music came on, the baby jumped very suddenly.  The important thing to point out here is that in both instances, these responses were completely independent of my own behavior.  I didn’t jump or startle whatsoever to either of these stimuli, yet the baby was exhibiting what I assume to be a robust startle response to unexpected, loud stimuli, when things were otherwise quiet and calm.  What is most exciting about this is the following:

 

At just 25 weeks gestation, the baby can not only hear, but also can exhibit the wonderfully adaptive startle response, consisting of just three synapses.  At 25 weeks pregnant, I was in awe about this!  “My baby has those synapses already!” I kept thinking to myself.  It still really amazes me when I think about it—for those of you (two of you) reading this who have studied startle in rats or mice, feel free to giggle at me for being so excited about this.  

I’ve decided that the last few weeks of any pregnancy are more about pain management than about relaxation or preparing for the baby. My grading was officially complete on Monday, yet miscellaneous student woes continue to consume my time through next Tuesday. Eventually I will be done working, I swear.

In the meantime, I am trying to stay comfortable. In the last few weeks, I went from doing OK to being in almost constant discomfort and having zero mobility. I had only gained 2 pounds in the 2 weeks between my last midwife appointments, so what gives? Here I am at a little over 35 weeks, not looking enormous, but definitely feeling that way:

Now, nearly a week later, I feel even more massive and uncomfortable.  What is sleep?  What is helping Rob with things around the house?  What is helping Rob with anything?  Poor guy……Here is my feeble attempt at gardening last weekend:

If I look as if I am complaining to Rob in that picture, it’s probably because I am.  My “help” in the garden consisted of me sitting on an overturned crate, half-heartedly digging in the dirt, and bitching about how the baby WILL NOT move out of my ribs, how I can’t do anything I used to, and how I want that baby out NOW.  I want to be able to trim my toenails without gasping for air.  I want to be able to drop things on the floor and not have it be the end of the world.  I can’t imagine what shape I’d be in if I hadn’t remained active throughout the pregnancy.  Exercise during pregnancy is great for so many reasons, not just for maintaining muscle tone and relieving stress.  It’s also great for boosting BDNF (brain-derived neurotrophic factor) levels in the developing fetus, and for augmenting the release of endogenous opioids during labor and delivery.  

First hike of the pregnancy (with view of Lake Elmore) day after I found out I was pregnant (4 weeks along!), just 2 weeks before the real sickness and awfulness of the 1st trimester set in:

Here’s hiking Mt. Philo and sledding at 22 weeks pregnant:

Kayaking at 32 weeks pregnant:

Now all we need is for Rob to get a shot of me in downward-facing dog, and we’ll be all set.  All of my first trimester pictures consist of me laying in bed.  That’s really all I did for about 2 months.  I ate cereal, crackers, and drank water.  I managed to take vitamins at night because they made me less sick right before bed.  

In bed at about 10 weeks, with a cat and a concerned Rob to keep me company:

Speaking of the cat, he really deserves a blog entry dedicated exclusively to him.  Stay tuned for a felid-related update—he certainly seems to sense that something is afoot.  I just can’t yell at the little guy, no matter how much he misbehaves.  I really should get him to understand that the crib is not his to lay in, and that the Boppy (while snuggly and perfectly suited for his size) is also not his to use.