The Land of UBRs

A UBR is an Unauthorized Belly Rub.

I just can't (and don't intend to) understand the fascination with pregnant ladies' bellies. Never in my entire life have I felt compelled to reach out and touch someone else's belly -- especially not some stranger! Lately though, I have become acutely aware of this crazy phenomenon.

To date I've been the recipient of three UBRs. The one that started it all I already talked about in an earlier blog. When the second one happened, not only was I speechless, but I felt powerless to stop it. I had gone out for happy hour with a couple of my friends, and we ended up meeting up with a couple of guys who knew one of the ladies. The two gentlemen were nice enough. One -- The Offender -- actually knew quite a few of the same people as I did, so we had a great conversation. After I finished eating, I called it a night early. Before I left, I hugged my friends and shook the hands of the two gentlemen.  As I was shaking The Offender's hand, he reached in, touched my belly -- which you could barely see in my too big for me dress -- and told me to take care. Seriously? A UBR... in a bar? I only met him that night! Neither of us has had that much to drink in less than 90 minutes that would make conditions for a UBR appropriate.  Once again though, it happened so fast, that just as I became enraged that it was happening at all, it was over.  Traumatized, I took my belly shopping. We got some cute things from Baby Gap.

The next one was even weirder. I went to get my eyebrows waxed. I hopped up on the table and assumed the position. As I lay waiting for the technician to begin, she started asking me questions. Boy or girl? When?  Then. It. Happened. She didn't just touch it, she RUBBED it as if she was making a wish!  And all the while, I was trapped on the table and couldn't -- more correctly wouldn't -- leave because my eyebrows were a bushy mess!  But no tip for her!

What blows my mind is there are people who have actually confessed their obsession with wanting to touch my belly, but have refrained at this point. Let me repeat:  They are obsessed.  Stop the madness!  What for?!?  I just don't get it. And when I asked what was the big deal, the response blew my mind. One explanation in particular began with a scene from a science fiction movie where the kids are touching those balls with the electrical current flowing through it. You remember them, right?  The ones where the current move to match wherever you put your hands. What came next was even more mind blowing...something about feeling disconnected from the "supreme power," and because there is a life growing inside me, touching my stomach would make them feel more connected to this so-called "supreme power." Can we say cuckoo for cocoa puffs! Now, what do you say to that?  I know one thing, based on that confession and obsession, I'm even more against you touching my belly! I don't know what kind of vibes would be passed on.  Hell, even Kyle's asks before he touches it.

As I said before, it will happen again.  I've accepted that.  But, I can't even fathom what my response will be like when I'm pushed to my breaking point and go off. 

Pray for me...and them!



A sampling of shirts I found at www.cafepress.com to address the issue. Which one should I get?

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Holy Crap!

I'm warning you...this one might fall in the category of too much information, but some folks need to know!

Since I got pregnant, I've experienced a  multitude of body changes. Belly, boobs, and butt -- there isn't one part of my body that isn't undergoing some massive reconstruction.  My sense of smell is out of control. Things I could barely smell before on my own plate I can now smell from across the room.  Fortunately, I didn't get morning sickness, but far worse in my opinion is what I did get, unbelievably constipated.

What really sucks is I wasn't all that regular before, take pregnancy and the hormones that come with it, production slows down in your digestive system, and you've got a recipe for complete disaster! Experts say "drink more water" and "eat more fiber."  Even after a good faith effort to heed these precautions, it still hasn't worked for me.

I've never been a fan of going number 2 in public, so I've been fortunate that my pregnancy poops have hit me at home. It's still kind of an ordeal though. I grab my book, turn on the radio, and settle in for what sometimes can turn into a 30 to 40 minute ordeal -- sometimes more -- and often the fruits of my labor are nothing more than just "rabbit pellets" (as described by my friend Nicki). All that hard work for virtually nothing!

This time I wasn't so lucky. I had an early class and after class I went the to library to study.  I sat down, and wouldn't you know it, within 10 minutes I began to feel the signals that my body gives me when it's ready to go:  lower back aches and aches in my legs.  Damn it!  I didn't want to go in there, but I couldn't hold it (years ago I held it for a four-week stretch and the outcome was not good). Off to the toilet I went without my usual comforts. Although I was in the library, I couldn't very well take a book into the toilet, especially considering there's a sign on the door that said, "For hygiene reasons library materials are not allowed in the restroom."

I pinched the first one off without too much trouble, checked it out and did a courtesy flush. Not bad...met the requirements as outlined by About.com, http://altmedicine.about.com/od/gettingdiagnosed/a/stools.htm.  It was the color of plain cardboard, left the body easily without strain or discomfort, was four to eight inches long and the consistency of toothpaste.  But the next couple?  Whew!  I wasn't prepared at all.  I worked hard for them.  Once I finished and I wiped, I checked out the fruits of my labor. OMG! They were huge, looking like two boulders stacked on top of one another!  I didn't see a good ending to this story, but there was nothing I could do but wait. The automatic flush activated...and the boulders, stacked on one another along with the toilet paper stayed right where they were, taunting me.

At this point I assessed my options:  1) Leave it and make it someone else's problem or 2) Stick my hand in the toilet to move things around. One more attractive than the other, but I didn't think I could do either in good conscience, so I said a prayer instead. (Oh shut up, people have prayed for worse!)  Thankfully God heard me and on the next flush everything down. That truly could have been a hot mess! Could you imagine if someone came in while I was huffing, puffing and bracing myself against the stall?

The lesson here is try harder to eat more fiber and drink more water so I can control the bowel movements and not let them control me! Believe me, it's a lot harder (figuratively and literally) than it sounds.

Better luck for me next time!

He's Coming!

Most people already know this, but Kyle and I found out we're having a boy! We were excited...and relieved!  I've been very anxious the last few weeks thinking we might have a girl. Not that we wouldn't have been just as excited, but mentally I don't think we are/were prepared for raising a girl. I'm not prissy. What if we had a prissy girl? Everyone kept saying that she would grow up to be however we modeled her. I say, nope. My mom was kind of prissy back in the day and my sister and I are damn near frat boys! My prayer was answered. Our baby boy is healthy so far and we'd like to keep in that way!

The ultrasound was a lot of fun. Our doctor was awesome. He regaled us with stories of 11-pound babies (please pray that doesn't happen to me) and deliveries from the old days of anesthesia and forceps while we watched our little boy move around on the screen. He's a feisty one...or maybe it was the Diet Coke I had that morning to make sure he wasn't sleeping and we could check out his package and know what we're getting into.  It was really cool. While the doc took various pictures of our growing boy, I tried to figure out what was on the screen. At one point I asked if one huge circle was his head. The doc said, "No, that's his butt." That's when he pointed out the "pee pee" (as he called it). Can't believe I thought my son's package was a really big ear! Good thing we have a professional -- he gets paid to make me look crazy, but I really didn't need any help!

Because my fiancé has proved to be a sensitive one, at one point I felt like I had to check on him as he watched the ultrasound over my shoulder.
Me:  You alright back there?
Kyle: Yep.
Me:  You sure? We got any tears?
Kyle: Nope, I'm keeping it in.

I only tease him because I love how he's so involved in it all and I'm privileged to be with a man that isn't ashamed to show his emotions.

Now that we know it's a boy, we've narrowed down the names but have decided that we'll keep the one we choose to ourselves -- not necessarily my choice, but Kyle doesn't ask for a lot, and since he's asked for this, I will oblige. See, I CAN compromise!

I know, this isn't like my usual posts, but it was one I wanted to share.
Happy Easter!

Isn't he precious?