Andrea’s Weblog

As the weeks tick away I feel I’m beginning to get used to my
limitations. I’ve trained myself to carefully squat to pick things up
off the floor (I’m not saying it still doesn’t take several swipes to
grab something). I’ve learned the steps for getting out of bed: roll
over on side to face the edge of bed, stick legs over the edge, use
arms to push upper body into sitting position, stand. I’ve also learned
how to position my various bed pillows to sleep more comfortably. I am
now sleeping with two pillows between my legs, and my hips are much
happier. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out how to roll over without
taking all the sheets off of Frank. Since my feet are exhibiting signs
of swelling, I’ve determined that sandals are much more comfortable.
Hopefully I won’t get as bad as a woman in our childbirth class who now
wears fuzzy slippers everywhere. I’m still getting used to the fact
that I can’t move as fast as I used to. Errands definitely take longer
because I’ve developed the pregnant lady wobble. I’ve learned that the
wobble is a good thing though—it means that my hips are loosening in
preparation for the baby to come through.

Yoga seems to be paying off. My instructor doubled me up with her
advanced class this week to make up for a class I missed. Fortunately,
she put me in the front so I only caught glimpses of the contortions
the other two women were capable of. I did have a minor victory
though—I actually touched my toes! Well, at least with one hand. A
classmate also complimented me on my “phenomenal balance.” How many
pregnant women can brag about that? Perhaps I should demonstrate my
skills to my coworkers. After walking by the yoga studio and seeing
someone lying down meditating, one coworker is convinced that I just go
down there to take naps. I need to run . . . err , waddlle. . . down to
his office and strike a tree pose.

The nursery is also shaping up. Frank furiously painted the whole room
last weekend before going out of town. The nursery is no ordinary room,
and we realized our painting tools were barely adequate. (FYI, the
“Paint Stick” works great.) The ceilings are about 14 feet high and the
ceiling slopes with a dormer window. I think Frank is considering
taking up yoga if he has to paint another upstairs room. It was quite a
workout to reach the ceiling and corners, and all I could do was keep
his supply of gatorade coming. While the nursery seems to be a big
room, after unpacking the presents we received at the McPherson shower,
I’m not so sure. . .