19 january 2000
leg cramps
observe my new dance steps.
The quote of the day:
Millenium Actually Starts In 2001, Terrorists Note.
-- The Onion

Today's news question:
Actress Hedy Lamarr (not "Hedley") died today at 86. While best known for being a screen siren in the 30s and 40s, she also helped to invent what military technology?

(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)


One of the things they warn you about with pregnancy are leg cramps. You know, charley-horses.

I thought, Oh, that's no big deal. I don't get leg cramps normally, and when I did (when running) I took care of them rather quickly. Potassium -- a banana every day or so -- takes care of the problem.

I haven't been sleeping very well of late -- I wake up 4 times a night on average, and, if you don't think that makes you groggy and disoriented after a few nights, you're wrong.

Sunday morning was no different: I heard Darin laugh, the way he does when he comes across something funny in the book he's reading in bed. I couldn't believe he was not only reading in bed at some godawful early hour, but laughing as well.

"What are you laughing at?" I asked, somewhat peeved.

"What?" he asked, groggy and disoriented himself.

Oops. He'd been asleep. Either he'd sleep-laughed or I'd dreamed that he'd laughed. I was losing my mind.

We went back to sleep.

An hour later I got one of those leg cramps. This was not what I would call a "cramp" or even your run-of-the-mill "charley-horse" -- this was my entire leg freaking out. My left leg shot out, taking our covers with it, and startling the hell out of Darin, who sat up and grabbed it. We'd learned in the Prepared Childbirth class that the way to deal with these cramps is to a)flex the leg, don't point (pointing makes it worse) and b)massage the leg. He massaged my calf for a while, once he managed to force my foot into a flex -- despite the fact that pointing hurt more, that was all I wanted to do.

I'd set the alarm for 8:30am, but we were clearly up for the day with this kind of craziness. After a couple of minutes he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Feels much better," I said.

Ha. If I only knew.

We got up and went to the second class, in which we saw the first of several videos showing actual births. I especially liked the way the babies waved their arms around once the arms were free of the birth canal, as if to say, "Whoo hoo! I'm outta there!" I started to tear up when the babies were handed to their mothers. I think this whole pregnancy thing is affecting me more than I'm willing to admit. We also practiced slow breathing -- I had the slowest breathing of anyone in the class: 10 breaths in a minute normally, 5 while trying to breathe slowly -- and faster breathing. I like the part where the partner has to massage the pregnant lady. I ask Darin to practice that part a lot.

As far as I can remember, my leg didn't bother me the rest of Sunday.

It has, however, hurt ever since. It's Wednesday and I'm still stretching it out, massaging it, trying to work the kink out of the muscle. Walking up and down stairs is a trial. If I sit for any period of time, I have to remember to flex my foot and stretch the calf muscle; otherwise the muscle gets frozen and I can't stand up. It isn't cramping; it's just horribly, horribly sore.

I sure hope I'm not going to get a lot of cramps before D-Day. I'll be crippled in no time.

 * * *

Have I mentioned that Bug has found one particular spot at the top of my abdomen that she likes to kick over and over and over again? I think I must have an internal bruise. I've asked her to show a little variety and demonstrate her dance steps in a few different places. She's obliged me in the past few days. Maybe there is something to the concept of prenatal communication. Or not.

 * * *

Darin and I are pretty certain we've come up with a name for Bug. If you promise not to tell anyone, here it is: Malibu Barbie.

Okay, just kidding. Actually, we do have a name -- middle name and everything -- but we're not telling anyone. Suffice to say it isn't Emily, Savannah, or Destiny. (Have I mentioned here before that my friend told me how the Jewish preschool her son attends has three Savannahs? I said I didn't think that sounded like a traditional Jewish name, but perhaps I should page through Kings again.)

On the March Moms list a few women are posting ideas they have for names and are asking other list members for feedback. This strikes me as dangerous -- someone's going to hate every name, and asking perfect strangers what they think... I don't know, I wouldn't do it. A few women have posted the names they've chosen definitely and other list members haven't been shy about criticizing them either, which strikes me as rude.

 * * *

The answer to yesterday's question: The Israeli-Syrian peace talks have broken down recently because of a dispute about the boundaries of Golan Heights, which Syria wants moved back to where they were before the Six Day War. I heard today that Israel has tentatively agreed to this (with, I assume, some stipulations about water rights and perhaps some settlers), but I can't find any confirmation of this on-line and I never trust my recollection of what I've heard on "All Things Considered," so take this with a grain of salt.


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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
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