Safe exercise ideas for mums to be

When I was pregnant with Daniel, I exercised all the way until I was 37 weeks and my gym membership ran out. I spoke to my doctor first to make sure the things I was doing were safe for me and my unborn baby. There are definitely some exercises you shouldn’t do when pregnant, so today’s guest post contains some that most people can do when they have a bun in the oven. (it’s always important to speak to your doctor before embarking on an exercise journey whilst pregnant):

Exercise; for some people it’s a swear word, but for others it’s what gets them through life, and keeps them sane in a mad world. When it comes to pregnancy, exercise can be a good friend, because it can help to prevent complications such as pre-eclampsia. It is believed that it can also help with a shorter labour, which is every mother-to-be’s sweet dream. An active lifestyle during pregnancy can also assist with keeping the body in shape, and reducing back pain, constipation and fatigue. So when you think about it, exercising during pregnancy is really actually the only way to go, if you want to get the most out of the experience! Here are some safe exercise ideas for Mums-to-be.

Yoga

Yoga is probably the best exercise in the world, because it is so gentle, yet does so much for your body. Most yoga teachers have specific classes for people who are pregnant, where they will work specific muscles according to what the mother’s body needs at the time. Yoga truly is an amazing tool for keeping the body in optimal condition and there are poses for soothing any pain, or bodily concern – all you have to do is ask. Always communicate with the teacher about your concerns as they will be able to guide you. It is important to avoid laying on your back after 16 weeks as the weight of the baby presses on a main blood vessel. If the worry is about finding the right clothes to fit, check out this URL for some lovely maternity wear for Mums-to-be.

Walking

Walking is an excellent choice as it gets you out of the house, and out into the world. Often during the hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy, the mother-to-be can experience bouts of depression, or other feelings and walking will help with getting a change of scene. Sitting in a house, worrying, and dwelling on the pregnancy and birth is not going to do anyone any favours so get out, get the blood moving and get some fresh air into your body.

Swimming

The great thing about swimming is that it is so low impact. Any exercise that you do in the water is supported, and it is the one place during pregnancy where you will be able to experience feeling weightless – which is a stark contrast to the heavy feeling of carrying the lump!

Me at 37 weeks pregnant with Hannah. I used to do aqua aerobics during my first pregnancy.

Pilates

Pilates is awesome for strengthening and toning, but can be quite a lot of work if you are doing the regular class, so make sure you find a teacher who can tailor the class to your needs as a pregnant woman.

Exercise Bike

An indoor exercise bike will mean that you can still exercise will staying in the comfort of your home, which is definitely advantageous if you are getting to the later stages of the pregnancy.

It’s best to mix it up and vary the sorts of exercise that you do, as this will help to work all the different muscles. Half an hour of exercise a day is a decent amount for a pregnant woman, and this can be easily split into 3 ten minute sessions. Any activity counts, (even housework!) so it doesn’t have to be formal exercise to get the benefits of an active pregnancy.

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

Looking good when pregnant

I would like a pair of these now, thanks.

I loved being pregnant. Sometimes. Like when I could feel the baby kicking my hand in response to me pressing on my stomach.

But most of the time I felt like a bloated, beached whale. Add hideous over-sized t-shirts or too-small-can-see-my-stretched-to-the-max-stomach-hanging-out-over-my-pants tops to the mix, and I felt truly yuck.

Lucky for you, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore, and you don’t even have to break the bank to look and feel like a glowing

pregnant woman, rather than a beached whale in a burlap sack. The following post on maternity style is sponsored by ASOS. Let’s just say they had me at ‘purple maternity jeans’ (how I wish I’d known about them when I was pregnant…).

Maternity Style

First of all being pregnant doesn’t mean you have to lose all sense of style. There are so many stores
and online retailers that have (finally) realised the need for high quality maternity wear that doesn’t
just consist of oversized t-shirts and sweat pants. So here is some maternity styling advice from
ASOS.

When your maternity wardrobe is only going to be worn for a few months it is important to get the
basics right. A pair of black skinny jeans will suit most occasions from a trip to the supermarket to a
romantic meal for two. Dressed down with a chunky knit cardigan for chilly winter days this look can
be turned around with the adding on of a cute printed blouse and some low wedges.

A maxi dress will always be a perfect choice for pregnancy as the flowing material is brilliant for
skimming your ever growing bump and will be a gorgeous choice for formal occasions such as a
winter wedding. This one shoulder jade green dress from ASOS has an elegant Grecian feel to it and
will need minimal accessorising- it is a statement piece all in itself- just add on some flat sandals and
an envelope clutch and you will be ready to go.

When choosing your maternity wear it is important to think about what shoes and bags you already
own as you don’t want to be buying new accessories as well as clothes- well you could if you really
wanted- but when trying to be purse friendly this is something to consider. Neutral accessories in
colours such as black, tan and nude will go with almost anything but if you have a favourite handbag
that isn’t your average colour think about this when picking your new clothes.

I LOVE this

So for a maternity wardrobe that is as stylish as you are think about what you already have in your
wardrobe that you won’t need to change and build your style up from there.

If you enjoyed reading this, please vote for my blog. All you have to do is click the link below. That’s it… Clicking the link brings you to the Top Mommy Blogs home page. You don’t have to do anything else. Any clicks from my site to theirs is a vote.  THANKS!

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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

A story about stretch marks

I was really lucky, I didn’t really get stretch marks when I was pregnant. Well, I got some on my butt, but I’m pretty sure they are gone now. Maybe. I can’t see them, so they don’t really bother me. I have one little tiny stretch mark on my stomach, just under my belly button from the rambunctious, posterior Daniel.

People generally don’t like stretch marks. They don’t want them. They hate them when they have them. At least that’s what I though. Until I read this story (by Amy Neff, writer of The Neff Family Blog):

Age: 28
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: Baby #1: 2 years. Baby #2: 6 months

Here I am. Almost six months after the birth of my second daughter. Complete with stretch marks, sagging skin, extra weight, and everything just…misplaced, for lack of a better word.

I had two babies in less than two years, my second being rather large. To say I got stretch marks is an understatement. I have been drenched in stretch marks! I remember when I was pregnant with my first daughter and the stretch marks starting popping up and the weight piled on. As ashamed as I almost am to admit this, I was sad and upset. I remember crying as I was trying on maternity clothes, thinking about how my body would never be the same. By the end of the pregnancy my entire abdomen, hips and thighs were covered in stretch marks despite every effort by me, covering myself in every cream and body lotion I could find. Nothing worked. I was just predisposed to get these things. By the time my second daughter came along the stretch marks had faded. But she, being her strong-willed and determined self, added her own marks. While my first daughter decorated my stomach (now nicknamed her “old apartment” by my husband) with mostly vertical stripes, my second was much more creative. She added horizontal lines, squiggly lines, and extended the vertical ones even higher. She was much larger than my first daughter, so the saggy skin was greatly intensified. I would look in the mirror at my post baby body and cringe. I would think, how on Earth could my husband EVER find this attractive?!! But, oddly enough, he somehow does.

Something happened recently that has entirely changed my outlook on my body, my flaws, and my “ruined” abdomen. This story is very sad, but I wanted to share it because it was been so inspirational to me.

On Christmas Eve, 2010 my twin sister found out that she was pregnant. I remember her calling me just minutes after the two lines appeared on the pregnancy test. She was excited, and scared, and a little in shock, as most newly pregnant women are. Her pregnancy progressed well. Everything was fine and uneventful. I remember the day that she got her first stretch mark. She called to tell me about it, and she was EXCITED! She was actually HAPPY about it! She said that that stretch mark showed that her baby was growing. That was the most important thing to her. She was not upset in the least. She was thrilled that her pregnancy was progressing, and that her baby was getting bigger. She had been having premonitions that something wasn’t quite right, and that her baby wasn’t big enough. Everyone, her doctors included, assured her that everything was fine. To her, that stretch mark was just more reassurance that her baby was, in fact, growing.

Tragically and suddenly, at almost 37 weeks pregnant, my sister lost her baby. The details are incredibly sad, so I won’t share them all. She had to deliver her baby and say goodbye. It was, without a doubt, one of hardest things I can ever imagine someone having to go through. After she had been released from the hospital and was sent home, she was telling me how her abdomen had shrunk down so much. How strange that felt…that her pregnant belly was gone, and she was left feeling completely empty. She said that she still had just that one stretch mark. I asked her if it was hard for her to have to see it. She said no. She said that her one stretch mark would always be proof that her baby existed. Those words stuck with me, and will stay with me forever.

Now I look at my stretch marks and saggy, floppy skin quite a bit differently. I was BLESSED with the opportunity to carry my babies full term. I had healthy, full term pregnancies, and I was rewarded with two big babies. Sadly, so many women aren’t this fortunate, which I’ve now seen firsthand. I’ve realized that the sacrifice of my more youthful and skinnier body has been more than worth it.

My sister’s pregnancy was the only time she was given with her baby. I know that she will remember and truly cherish the memories of every kick, every hiccup, every elbow jab. Now I feel that because I was lucky enough to bring my babies home, feed my babies, cuddle with my babies, and raise my babies, the last thing I should do is complain about my less than perfect mid-section.

When I look in the mirror now, do I think my body is pretty, or attractive? No, definitely not. But this body has been through a lot in the past two and half years. Two births in 23 months, a combined weight gain of over 70 lbs, 18+ months of breastfeeding. It takes its toll, and I am grateful for all of it. I’m PROUD of what my body has done and, most importantly, what it has given me. My pregnancies were, by far, the most exciting times of my life. I often miss the moments of pure excitement and anticipation. I miss rubbing my pregnant belly, and bonding with my baby before she was even born. Both pregnancies were such specials times that I will always look back on with so much fondness.

My little niece, who I was never lucky enough to meet, and my incredibly amazing sister have taught me so much and inspired so many, and I wanted to share this story with you. These stretch marks are here to stay, and that’s fine with me.

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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

Yes, I had a baby

right after giving birth

Hello Everyone!!  So as you’ve noticed, I’ve been absent for a little while.  I do have a good excuse, I promise!!!  Brace yourselves (because it’s not like you saw this coming or anything…)… I had a baby!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, 8 August, I was trying to get some last minute things done (vacuuming, making some meals for Hannah to put in the freezer, etc.), when my water broke.  Now I’m not talking about just a little trickle.  No sir, this was like a flood.  I was standing there peeling an apple, and WHOOSH!!  Niagra Falls in my pants.  Without all the boats.

I ran to the bathroom, stripped my pants off and sat on the toilet.  It kept coming and coming.  Sigh.  My phone was in the kitchen.  Aaron had just taken Hannah to the park.  I grabbed a pad, held it to my nether regions and made a run for it, hoping and praying that none of the neighbours happened to be looking in the direction of my open window as I dashed around the house half-naked and leaking.

Back to the toilet.  I called Aaron.  No answer.  Crap.  I called again.  No answer.  Crap.  I called Grandma’s house.  She wasn’t home.  Crap.  I called her phone (that she wore around her neck vigilantly whilst awaiting this very call).  She was on the bus, but she answered.  She hopped off that bus, ran as fast as an 81-year old with a pinched nerve, arthritis, and shopping trolley full of stuff can, and got a cab straight here.

I finally got a hold of Aaron in the mean time and he came home too.  I still sat on the toilet, the liquid contents of my uterus leaking out.

The hospital wanted me to come in for a check.  Make sure no meconium (first baby poop) was in the fluid.  There wasn’t any, but they made me stay overnight anyway.  Baby Boy’s head had moved back up, and since my waters broke, the cord could prolapse.  I wasn’t even in labour by the way.  Just leaking and wearing 2 giant maternity pads in my underwear.  They were going to induce me in the morning, so I just had to go to the antenatal ward and sleep until then.

I woke at 12am to pee.  I went back to bed and started getting contractions.  I put my TENS machine on and went back to sleep.  Well, between contractions anyway.  I did manage to get some sleep on and off until 4, when I could no longer sit or lie in bed.  Contractions suck way more when laying or sitting.  I needed to walk.  Everyone else was asleep.  This was, after all, the antenatal ward.  No one else was actually in the process of having a baby.

I paced the halls, one hand on my sore belly (for some reason, the contractions were really painful on the bottom of my stomach, not my back as you’d expect in a posterior labour), the other holding my TENS machine for dear life, cranking it up during each contraction.  The staff asked me how I was doing, and were pleased when I told them I was in labour.  No induction needed, thank you.  I painfully paced the dark empty halls by myself for an entire hour, updating my facebook status between contractions (there was nothing else to do, and I had my phone with me).

At 5 I asked if I could call Aaron, the pain was getting quite severe and I wanted him there for moral support.  They said he could come at 6, but not before because everyone else was asleep.  Antenatal ward remember.  These ladies needed their sleep.  They tried to get me a delivery suite to pace around in instead (and so my husband could come), but none were free.  So I paced some more.

By 5:30, they felt sorry enough for me that they called one of the midwives and told me she’d be up soon so I wouldn’t be alone.

The midwife came up and decided to check me out.  There was now 1 delivery suite available and they wanted to keep it free for someone who may come in and urgently need it.

Ring ring.  Aaron wanted to know if he had time to stop and get some breakfast.  “Sure.” I told him.

The midwife manually checked my progress “call him back, no time for breakfast, you’re 8cms dilated.”

Oh my gosh!  I wasn’t expecting that!  We went straight down to delivery, shocking all the staff.  No one thought I was that far along. I hide it well.

I paced around my delivery suite for a little bit, Aaron arrived, then it was time to push.  I got on the bed with an exercise ball, leaned my torso over it, put my knees on the bed and waited for the next contraction.

Oh.  My.  Gosh.  Pushing is hard!  I Probably should have done my pelvic floor exercises after giving birth to Hannah.  I felt like my every ounce of effort was doing nothing.

I pressed on.  It seemed like hours passed.  Finally the head started coming.  Oh.  My.  Gosh.  It felt like a giant red-hot knife was going to town on my nether region.  But there was no turning back, I had to keep going.  Finally the head was free.  One more push and out came Baby Boy, 22 minutes after I started pushing, 7 hours after my first contraction and only 3 hours after established labour.

They passed him to me between my legs as I grabbed him and turned around to lie on the bed for a cuddle.  We named him Daniel.  Our precious little Daniel, 7lb, 3oz (3.2kg), 50cm long.

They stitched me up and then I had a shower. I was covered in blood and poo.  Yeah poo.  Daniel did a poo as he came out and until then I hadn’t noticed it was actually all over me.  Ew.

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The smoking bathroom

We LOVE our new place.  Sure, we went from a 4 bedroom house with a yard to a 2 bedroom apartment.  But it’s ours.  Well, we don’t own it, but you know, only our little family lives in it.  It’s cozy.  I can prepare dinner on the large kitchen bench that overlooks the living/play/dining room while Hannah happily plays.  I got to organise everything in the kitchen just the way I like it.  If I have to pee in the middle of the night (who am I kidding, I’m 39 weeks pregnant, it’s more like when I have to pee in the middle of the night), I can roll out of bed and walk to the bathroom naked.  No clothes needed, I’m not going to run into anyone except for Aaron, and he likes it when I’m naked anyway (I’m sure he’s blushing as he reads this…).  There is a big bathtub and a modern spacious kitchen.  The list goes on and on.

Even Hannah loves it here.  Whenever we go elsewhere, she looks at me all serious-like and says “Hannah go home now to new house.”  Never in a million years did I think she’d take to a new place so well, especially since it meant leaving Grandma and YaYa behind.  I guess she thought it was too crowded too.  Plus now the big screen TV is in the same room she plays in, so she gets to watch Mickey and Dora on it; something she never got to do before.  She even said she wants to share her room with Baby Brother.

The move probably would have been a lot smoother if Hannah didn’t get sick soon after and end up in the hospital, but that’s a whole ‘nother story….

The only problem with the new place is the smoking.  We don’t smoke.  Yuck.  I’ve never even tried one.  Ick.  Just the thought makes me cringe!  But our neighbours all seem to smoke.  Except maybe the other new tenant across the way who also has a 2 year old girl.  And smoke travels.  There is no smoking allowed inside the building, so everyone goes just outside their doors and smokes there instead.  I can smell smoke like no ones business.  Sigh.  It comes under our door and assaults my nostrils.  Smoke that has been in someone else’s body comes in my door and enters my body.  Ew. Just because you want lung cancer doesn’t mean I do…. I think I need to buy a door snake.  Maybe that will help.

Fair enough, I can see why the smoke comes in under the front door.  That makes sense.  But a some of the time, there is a strong smell of cigarette smoke in the bathroom.  Yeah, the bathroom.  The bathroom that has a closed window, is on the second story of the apartment building (with the rest of our apartment of course), has no common walls with any other unit, and has a bunch of trees right out side it (so no one can stand under it smoking).  I can’t for the life of me, figure out why the bathroom smells like smoke.  How did the smell get there?  It’s not like Aaron or I am hiding out in the bathroom chain smoking.  It’s certainly not Hannah. Are all the vents connected and someone is cheekily smoking in their bathroom?  But then wouldn’t I see smoke coming out of them? Maybe it’s like Toy Story and our bathroom fixtures all get together and party while we’re out. Hmmm…..

The long hug good night

Today is the last day we’ll have the internet for a little while.  Sure, I’ll have the internet on my phone, but I have enough trouble hitting the right buttons with my fat pregnancy fingers when just trying to type a text message.  There’s no way I can do a whole post from my phone.

Yes, we are moving tomorrow!  HOORAY!!!!!  I’m not going to think about the fact that the last people who lived there failed to clean the place.  The carpet hasn’t been vacuumed, kitchen floor not mopped, a years worth of dust is still chillin’ on all the window sills (sils?), the laundry sink has been drained and then left with a ring of crap around the bottom.  Sigh.  Nope, not thinking about all the cleaning I have to do at 37 weeks pregnant when it should have all been done before we got the keys.

Instead, I’m thinking about the shower.  The wonderful, more-than-a-trickle, you-can-have-hot-water-AND-water-pressure shower that awaits me in our new apartment.  The shower here is atrocious.  I dread showering every single day.  I’m not exaggerating at all when I say you can have a warm/hot shower, OR, you can have water pressure.  I opt for the warm, it’s like 2 degrees in the morning, I can’t have a cold shower!  Then when you get the temperature just right, it decides to burn you instead.  So then you turn the cold up just a tad, and it freezes you.  Mean while, the shower door is broken, so it doesn’t shut (letting out all that warm steam that usually keeps one warm whilst showering.  Since you’re only under a little trickle of water, one side of you is nice and warm while the other side, is hanging out of the shower stream and freezing cold.  Yes, I HATE that shower.

And we’ll have the place all to ourselves.  No waking up in the middle of the night to pee (side effect of being 37 weeks pregnant of course), only to find someone else in there and have to pop a squat in the freezing cold backyard in the rain while trying not to fall over or knee myself in the baby.

I can arrange my pantry any way I want.  No one is going to put a can of pasta sauce in the tuna row.  Or flour on the snacks shelf.

Yes, I can not wait!!!

Moral of the story though, we haven’t arranged the internet connection yet, and these things usually take way too long in the first place.  So, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to post again, but I will be back.  Maybe with a baby, maybe still pregnant.  I don’t know, but I’ll be here, surely with plenty of amusing stories when I’m back.  In the mean time, please keep voting for me, and I’ll try to keep my legs crossed so baby boy doesn’t make an appearance on moving day.

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Never say to a pregnant woman….

We were all sitting down to breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, baked beans for those who don’t think they are uber disgusting (like myself)….  It’s winter, but sometimes it gets a bit hot.  Well, sometimes I get a bit hot.  Probably because I have my own little personal furnace in my belly that gives me hot flushes like a menopausal woman from time to time.  Yes, the joys of pregnancy.

I took off my jumper (uh…that’s sweater, for those of you who don’t speak Aussie).

“Your arms look big.”  Grandma told me.

My eyes grew to the size of saucers.  I was mortified!  Visions of old ladies with masses of loose skin and fat dangling down when they hold their arms up filled my head.  I didn’t know what to say.  Yes, I was lost for words.  What does one say when someone is causally saying that your arms are now jiggly lumps of jelly (jello)?  I sat there, jumper half on, half off, staring at her in shock.  Aaron stared at me.  YaYa stared at me, both wondering what on earth I was going to say.  Hannah continued singing twinkle twinkle little star to herself whilst eating her porridge.

Grandma must have noticed my mortification. “I’m just not used to your arms being that big,” she told me “I’ve never seen them that big before.”

“You’re just digging yourself a hole Grandma!”  Aaron told her.

“Ok, I think I’m just going to put my jumper back on and never expose my fat arms again…”  I told everyone, still mortified.

“You can’t tell a pregnant woman that she’s fat Grandma.”  Aaron said.

“I’m 81, I can say whatever I want, I don’t care!  I didn’t say she’s fat, I said her arms are fatter!  You’ve put on fat everywhere, your boobs, your butt, your face…”

I would have curled into a ball and hid under a rock had it not been so funny.

“Hold on, I have to get a piece of paper and a pen, I have to write this down!”  I scrambled off to write everything down, word for word.  “This is definitely going on the blog!”

“You’re just digging deeper Grandma.”  Aaron told her.

“What?!  You can’t blame the baby for all that fat, it’s not gonna be 10 stone!  It’s not even gonna be 10 pounds!”

By this stage, everyone except Grandma, who still maintained that she had said nothing wrong, was hysterically laughing.  Totally not the point that I’ve gained over 16kgs (35lbs) so far.  As of a couple of weeks ago anyway.  I haven’t been game enough to weigh myself since then.  Sigh.

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The pregnant belly dance

Boy Baby is posterior.  He is head right down in my nether region (making me feel an incredibly strong urge to pee every time I stand up), but his head is facing out.  Not in, like they are supposed to.  That, of course, means that his little strong legs are also facing out, towards my belly button, and you can physically see limbs moving across my stomach from time to time.  I can tickle a whole foot.  Judging by the strength of these movements, I’m actually kinda glad that he’s not facing inward.  I think my intestines and internal organs will thank him for it later.  Of course his spine is on my spine, so my spine thinks otherwise.  And my legs.  He seems to pinch some nerves from time to time, making me nearly fall over mid-stride, legs unable to work, and in great pain.

But look on the bright side, without a posterior baby, I wouldn’t get footage like this (taken yesterday @ 35 weeks pregnant):

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Wordless Wednesday: Family portraits

I don’t have anything profound or hilarious to write about today, (or maybe I just can’t be bothered) so I’m going to do what a lot of people do and go with Wordless Wednesday. What? It’s not Wednesday? Meh, merely details. Plus, I may not be in the U.S. but I am from the U.S., and guess what?  It’s Wednesday there!!  What?  There are words in this post?  Whatever, I don’t think I could ever have a post with no words at all….

Anyway, we have been meaning to do some family portraits for many months now, but we were kinda lazy and didn’t do it until last Saturday.  Or Sunday.  Can’t remember.  We have a couple of sponsor kids from Indonesia, and we were supposed to send them a letter and family photo quite a while ago.  I guess we suck as sponsor parents because we haven’t yet done it, due to needing a current family photo.

I finally remembered to ask The Jess (aka The Sister-in-Law) to come over and take some lovely photos (in addition to helping paint Baby Boy’s ceiling).  So, here they are (taken at 26 weeks pregnant):

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A day without plumbing

Yesterday morning, our sewer got blocked.  This apparently happens every 5 years or so due to a large tree in the back yard that enjoys growing roots in the sewer line.

“Can you call your plumber?”  We asked Grandma.  Yeah, she has a plumber, she’s all loyal like that.

“He won’t be able to come out today, he’ll be drunk, I know what he’s like!”  Grandma told us.

“Why do you keep using him then??!!”  Aaron asked.

She explained that she keeps him as her plumber because he has never ripped her off and does a good job.  He just likes to get drunk after work and on weekends.  Apparently….

“It will be expensive to get someone out today.  Last time I called someone on the weekend, they wanted to charge $600 just to come out!”  Grandma is so stubborn. Besides, we were paying for it anyway.

“We can’t go without plumbing Grandma, there are too many of us!  What about the dishes, the laundry, Hannah’s bath, Aaron’s shower in the morning…”  I told Aaron and Grandma.

“You two are spoilt!  Just wait until tomorrow.”  Grandma told us.

Ok, I can pee in the woods just fine when I’m camping, but it’s normal to do that when you’re camping, everyone else is doing it too.  And no one has a shower, but no one else is either, so it’s fine.  But at home?  No, sorry, it’s not normal to pop a squat in your backyard, especially when your neighbours could easily look out their windows and see you doing just that.  Plus, I’m 26 weeks pregnant.  I can barely bend over, let alone squat!  If I tried to relieve myself in the bushes, I’d probably end up on my backside, with a stick up my @$$ and pee all over my legs.  And what about Grandma?  She’s 81.  She certainly can’t go in the bushes!

I called the emergency plumbers.  Humph, they wanted to charge $380 just to come out.  Well, one did, the other didn’t actually answer the phone.  How can you have a 24/7 emergency plumbing business if you don’t answer your phone on a Sunday when the rest of the places are closed??

Fine, a day without plumbing it would have to be.  Sigh.  At least I didn’t have to do any dishes.  Of course that meant they’d pile up all day and I’d have a heap to do the next day.

“What happens if I flush the toilet or use the sink?”  I asked Grandma.

“Poo will go all over the yard.”  Yuck!

Everything was going fine, we weren’t making too many dishes. Hannah didn’t get so grubby that she had to have a bath.  Aaron was peeing in the bushes out back.  Grandma and I were peeing the least often we possibly could and then going in the toilet without flushing (gross, I know, but what else could we do?).  We only used a bit of water to wash our hands.

But then I had to poop.  Yes, unfortunately, I didn’t have to go that morning, before the sewer was blocked.  Humph.  I was cooking Hannah’s dinner.  I could feel the need rising.  And rising some more.  Getting more and more urgent.  Nope, I couldn’t make it until the next morning.  I have a baby who enjoys laying as far down as he possibly can, with frequent kicks on my bladder and backside, from the inside.  Nope, couldn’t possibly hold it all night long.

“What do I do?”  I asked Aaron.  “Seriously, what do I do??

I looked around, hoping to find some inspiration, an idea.

“I could put a bag on a bucket and go in that, wrap it up and then put it in the trash.”  I’m pretty sure he was trying not to laugh. But then I couldn’t ever use that bucket again.  No, that was no good.

“What if I put a bag over the toilet seat and go in that, wrap it up and throw it away?”  No, what if the bag falls in the toilet?  Then what?  Ew.

I continued walking around the house, increasingly frantic and crazy like, wondering what I was possibly going to do.

“Why don’t you go to the gym and use the toilet there?”  Aaron asked me.  Yeah, seems logical, but we all know how I feel about pooping in public.  And seriously, that would be way worse because that is my gym.  I see those people every time I go there.  They’d know that I went there just to poop, and who does that?

“I can’t do that, they’d know what I did!  I’d check in there, go to the bathroom and leave.  What if they asked me about it?”

“Go to the gas station, fill up the car and use the bathroom there.”

“I can’t do that!”  What if the bathroom was inside?  Gas stations are only little, they’d know how long I was in there, they’d know that I pooped in there.  And then I could never ever go to that gas station ever again.

“Ok, I’ll go hide amongst the trees in the backyard and go there.”  I went out the back.  I looked around the entire yard for a suitable spot where no neighbours would look out the window and see my bare bottom hanging out.  Thinking about actually squatting to poo in the yard was too much.  I couldn’t do that.  Not in broad daylight, neighbours about (“Oh hey ___  *waves while squatting in the bushes*.  Yeah, I’m just relieving myself here, mind not looking?”), and certainly not while pregnant with high likely hood of ending up in the product of attempted squatting.

I went back inside. Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?

“Ok, you finish cooking Hannah’s dinner, I’m going to Kmart.  I have to go now!”

Hannah started crying.  She wanted to come to.  I couldn’t bring her, I needed to go!  I had to just leave her there, crying, without comfort from me, bawling in the hallway as I made my hasty exit.  “Mommy!  Hannah come too!  Mommy, Mommy!”  I kept going.

I drove past the local park.  The lights were on in the toilet block.  Should I stop?  Usually the toilets are locked.  I’m not sure why they even have toilets there, they are never open.  But the lights were on.  If they were open, I wouldn’t feel so stupid driving all the way to Kmart and I’d finally be able to relieve myself.  But, if it wasn’t open, I’d be wasting more time, getting more uncomfortable.

I stopped.  The toilets were locked.  $&@^*#(#($(@@***!!!!!!!

I got back in the car, making sure to stick to the speed limit, driving carefully.  I was paranoid of being pulled over, adding more time to my predicament.

“I’m sorry officer, but I really have to poop!  Can we talk about this later, I have to go now!”  That would be just my luck.

I made it to Kmart without incident.  I went inside.  The women’s bathroom was empty.  Relief sigh.  I finally did my business.  Phew.  And then I drove home, thoroughly embarrassed, yet very relieved.

I’m so glad the plumbers came at 7:30 this morning and pulled the tree roots out.  Now we can use water and flush the toilet.  Pregnant women should not be without plumbing!

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