Month 7

Welcome, third trimester.  I've heard so much about you.  I hope you aren't as bad as everyone says!  

November brings with it Thanksgiving, which was  really hard for me my first year here.  I didn't realize just how important that meal was until I was away from it.  Easter and Christmas are so riddled with commercialism that they lost their way.  But Thanksgiving stays on the course as being the day you sit down (like it or not) with your family and/or friends and stuff your face while being reminded to give thanks for what you have.  I was a basket case my first year.  I vowed to never miss another one.  Then I got knocked up!  No worries, I had last year and I will have other years.  I threw myself into planning the Thanksgiving event at my pub.  I set the menu, helped out the Turkish chef, Erhan, who didn't have a lot of experience with some of the traditional dishes.  I handled the desserts, pumpkin and apple pies.  After much prep and work (and tears) we pulled it off.  It was pretty successful, from what I was told, in that we sold out of plates.  I'm not certain how profitable it was for the pub, but the food was outstanding and the customers loved it.  That helped distract me, but I can't help but miss everyone.  

We have started receiving donations from friends and buying things for the baby.  I got an unexpected donation of baby clothes from a friend of a coworker, all boy stuff, but greatly appreciated.  We got a car seat from the Message classifieds, for 10 Euros!!!  Its practically brand new, she hardly used it at all.  We bought our dishwasher from the Message classifieds, and that woman gave me maternity clothes, baby clothes and a bassinet.  I got an email from a friend of a friend, offering us baby clothes, for a girl, a cosleeper (an infant "crib" where one side drops so you can keep it next to you in your bed for easy night feedings) and a cocoon a baby.  Another friend is giving us a moses basket.  A dear fried of mine just gave me everything her son has grown out of since she moved here (he was a few months old then) until now, he is about 18 months.  So at this point, I have a shit ton of boys clothes, and a small amount of girls clothes.  Most of it is for the beginning, 0-6, and a decent amount for 6-12 months.  Its just as well that I feel like I'm having a boy!  A lot of the clothes really could go either way, but there are some things that are definitely boy stuff.  If I do have a girl, as Ann Marie is convinced I am having, every other person I  know who is pregnant is having a boy.  I'm not exaggerating, I know at least 9 or 10 women who are pregnant, or have just had babies, and every one of them is a boy.  I know 2 women who are also waiting for the surprise.  So, worst case scenario, I give the boy stuff to these other women and go get me some girl stuff.  Not that I"m really the pink, frilly type.  I like the more modern look for little girls.  And here, people dress their kids like little adults, anyway.  I see more trenchcoats and skinny jeans on little girls than I did on adults in the US.  Its funny.  

Some items donated to us:

This actually did not come from Annie!! But I thought she would appreciate it!!

Each one of these items is marked 3 months, maybe I'm just new at this, but I see a small difference between them

The baby has really started kicking up a fuss in there.  I'm definitely feeling it.  Unfortunately, Spud is reeking havoc on my lungs.  I can't breath.  I would be sitting there, minding my own business, then suddenly, the wind has been knocked out of me from the inside.  Stairs have become my mortal enemy.  I can use the stairs, but I need to take my time and I need to pause for a break at the top. Between the extra weight and the pressure on my lungs, its not fun.  I am definitely waddling.  Really, I have been for a while.  But there is no avoiding it now.  I waddle.  Work is getting harder.  I was really looking forward to the end of the month.  I was down to working 2 days in the pub and 1 day in the office.  But I'm ready to stop.  

People have began with the "Oh my god you're huge!  How many babies are in there?!"  I know they mean well, but its really f*%@ing annoying.  I am 5'2", I have no torso and I am carrying the baby of a man who is 6' tall and was 11 pounds when he was born.  I am going to show a bit more than a woman who is, say, 5'9".  Then I had my monthly sage femme appointment.  HAHA!!  I still had not gained any weight, since month 5 and she said my measurements were perfect.  She actually used the word perfect!  So now I got to go around telling people that I'm exactly the size I should be, so suck it.  I can still fit into my pants, without zipping them, of course.  But I can still wear some of them.  I still look exactly the same, minus the large beach ball under my shirt.  

My sleep was starting to be effected.  I can sleep, but its not continuos.  I wake up after every REM cycle, pee and then go back to bed.  Its ok, I still sleep.  But i miss a good 8 hour stretch.  Its strange, because my iron is low, so you would think I'd be more tired, thus sleeping better.  But I guess it a way for you to get used to not ever sleeping  8 hours straight again!  I got my flu shot!  So Spud and I are good for quite some time.  

We took a parenting class.  It was a weekend long class, all day Saturday and Sunday, with 5 other couples.  We went over loads of stuff about pregnancy, childbirth and the first few months.  It was really great, and in English!  

Along comes December and I get to stop working.  I spent the first weeks still scheduling myself like a crazy woman.  I was running around busy as before.  I was still doing 1 day in the office, as it is easy enough to sit at a desk and work on a computer.  I started doing modeling for a life drawing class.  Yes, it was naked.  Like I said before, I love being pregnant.  And since I'm not putting on ridiculous amounts of weight, I love the way I look pregnant.  So why not get paid for it?  It works out well, its only 2 hours a week and it pays well.  I met a really cool Irish chick, who is also pregnant and we starting hanging out.  

I got a wake up call, though, about how I was running around.  Robbie and I were hanging out at home.  He was sitting in a folding chair and then slowly started to slip towards the floor as the chair breaks in slow motion.  Needless to say, I laugh until I start peeing a bit.  As I go to the toilet and to change, Robbie notices that the back of my knee is all purple and swollen.  So in on instant I go from laughing until I pee, to crying hysterically.  I was freaking out.  I sent pictures all over the world getting feedback from my friends and family, while Robbie is on the phone trying to get a doctor to come round the house to look at me.  In the end, I put on the compression tights and laid down with my leg elevated.  It turns out, yes, I do have a small vericose vein in my leg, nothing to really worry about.  I just have to wear the special tights everyday and we will deal with it once I am done having babies.  I am also now taking it easy.  I am not making plans to go all over God's creation everyday.  I take Robbie to work, I go to my French classes 3 nights a week, I go to physical therapy and to my one day of work.  I will make some plans with people, but for the most part, I'm chilling.  

Other than that small hiccup, all is still going well.  I feel great.  I do have a few moments where the reality of being pregnant hits home.  This baby will be mine.  No one will come take it away when I am done with it.  We are the parents from now until we die.  Whoa!  But then I think of what kind of freaking miracle it is to be growing a tiny human inside of me.  I am a self contained family right now.  There is a living thing inside of my who will have their own personality and thoughts.  It will walk and talk and I made it, with a bit of help from Robbie.  (I don't want to downplay how wonderful he has been every step of the way.  He is so amazing, but you already knew that!)  

Now, I'm looking forward to the holidays and the next ultrasound!!  

New Apartment

So, as I mentioned in the last post we moved.  As with most things here in France, it is no easy feat to find an apartment.  You would think in a city specifically designed to house as many humans as possible, you could find a place to live with minimal efoort.  Oh no, my friend, you can not.  I am accustomed to searching for apartments in the US.  You find the ad, you call the person, you see the place, you leave a deposit, you move in.  Simple as, right?  Yes, there may be some competition, but the almighty dollar speaks louder than words and if you got the money, you got the spot.  

Here, there is a process.  There are 2 main websites with which to find apartments: pap.fr and seloger.fr.  The first is listed by the owner, the second you generally have to deal with an agency.  Obviously, the first is more appealing, so most people go there, which means you could be going up against dozens of other people for 1 spot, but there is no agency fee.  In the second case, there may be less competition, but you generally have to pay a 1 month fee on top of the deposit and rent.  Seems easy enough, but there is the dossier.  You need to show up with all of your most pertinent and personal details of your life, photocopied and bound, if you're feeling fancy.  In this dossier, you need proof of who you are (color copies), bank statements, paycheck stubs for at least 3 months, proof of payment of rent for your current apartment, your RIB (which is how all auto payments are done here.  You get a slip from your bank with all the important details and your landlord, electric company, cell phone provider, etc can just auto deduct the payment from your account.  It really makes life easier)  any application required by landlord or agency and a garantor.  A garantor is someone in France, who owns property and is willing to sign a paper saying that they are responsible for the rent if you decide to run off with out paying.  Most French people just use their parents.  That's all well and good if your parents live here.  But if you are like us, you have to ask a really big favor of someone, and most people will say no.  Its the same here as cosigning a house loan back home.  Seriously.  

Some places will even ask for more info, but that's a rough outline of the dossier.  There are loads of things you can add to spruce it up.  Its more serious than having a good resume/CV.  You walk into a showing and hand a blank faced person all the details of your life, without so much as a smile or a thank you for your interest!  There you are, reduced to a folder shoved in among so many other folders.  It really makes you feel how insignificant your life can be in a big city.  It can suck the life out of you.  Especially the phone calls.  I called dozens of numbers about places, hope rising in me about this beautiful place with a garden or a big kitchen, only to have the person on the other end flatly state "Its been rented. CLICK" After a day or two of that, you can feel the joy seeping from your soul.   But I'm American, dammit!! You can't keep me down!!! I will find a f@*)ing apartment if its the last f%^*ing thing I do!!!  And I will smile at you until my cheeks hurt while doing it. 

And just that we did.  Robbie had seen an ad during the summer and sent an email.  We never really heard back.  So in October, we saw the same listing still there, but the price had dropped.  So this time, we called, as our French is better orally than written.  We were sent an email telling us exactly what they wanted for the dossier and an application.  We got right on it.  Robbie also found another apartment and we got our dossier ready for them, too.  THe first one was bigger (90 m2), but in an ok area.  The second was smaller (60 m2), but in a great area.   It came down to the wire, but we went with the bigger place.  As I keep telling myself, I live inside the apartment, not outside.  I am glad we chose as we did.  

AS this was all going on, I had started packing.  It worked out well, as I was starting to outgrow my clothes.  As I retired item after item, and the seasons were changing, I packed the suitcases and readied for the move. It was fun, as I got to get rid of loads of stuff.  As I am a mix of my parents, my inner hoarder (dad) usually loses to the inner cleaner (mom).  So I enjoy the purging that comes along with a move.  Its amazing how much shit 2 people can accumulate over 2 years.  

Anyway, the word came in around the 25th of October that we would be signing the contract on the 29th and Robbie organized the move for the night of the 31st.  The 1st of November is a holiday here, so he got all of his work buddies to come over after work on the 31st with 2 vans, they loaded them and hauled us away to an apartment I had yet to see!!! I had not seen it yet as there is another fun twist to apartment hunting here, pregnancy is a very delicate subject.  You would think that a young, pregnant couple would be a great candidate for a tenant. We represent stability, planting roots, etc.  But no, not here.  You are a risk, because it is harder to kick a family out of an apartment once they are in there.  Nice, huh?!  So, as I was seriously showing at this point, I did not get to go along for the viewings.  All in 1 night, the amazing men packed our life into 2 vans and moved us into my surprise apartment.  

Also, the week before, Robbie had been offered a job managing a pub, in the same family of pubs he had worked for for years before.  It was an increase in wages and a big change in schedule.  He would go from working 7am to 4pm to working 5pm to 2am.  He would only have to work 5 days a week, compared to the 6 or 7 he was working.    Not to mention no longer having the threat of getting cancer everyday.  All while doing something he loves.  No brainer!

The morning of November 1st found us in a new apartment and Robbie starting a new job.  That weekend, we went to his old office and picked up the car he had been given by the neighbor of a coworker.  We were now the proud owners of a 1989 Peugeout 309 Chorus edition.  Pretty sweet, huh? After about 30 minutes, we got the battery started, it had been sitting at the shop for a few months.  But she is in good working order.  She only had about 100k kilometers on her, which is amazing for a 24 year old car.  (that's about 62,000 miles)  She has no frills, but she's a trooper!!  I needed to drive around to charge the battery, so I proceeded to drive for about the next 8 hours.  I haven't stopped since.  Popo, her nickname, has been great.  She has her quirks, but she is a hell of an old gal.  

So, without further ado, the photos of Popo and our new apartment:

Hallway

Our bedroom

(there is a closet to the right)

The baby's room with double closet and balconey

Bathroom with shower, tub and double sinks

Toilet room 

Laundry room

Living and dining room

Kitchen

Our gigantic terrace

This is by far the nicest apartment I have ever lived in.  Its completely brand new.  The windows in our room, the baby's room and on the terrace have shutters that are all electronically controlled.  They each have a control or there is a master in the hallway that controls all of them.  To give an idea of the size, 90 m2 is about 900 sq ft, so roughly the size of our house in the US.  When you rent an apartment here, it doesn't come with anything, except the absolute essentials: toilet, sinks, shower/tub and walls.  Everything else you must provide.  Yes, I mean the fridge, stove and the cabinets.  So it has been a bit slow going as far as getting this place kitted out in a style in which we have become accustomed, i.e. big fridge, fancy stove, dishwasher, etc.  But, its coming along nicely.  We are getting things little by little.  And each night I do a bit more organizing and getting rid of things.  As we are coming down the home stretch, we are pulling it all together.  These pictures are from 2 weeks ago and it already looks different, as we just bought a dining room table today and I've gotten a few more things for the baby's room.  I will post more pictures when its all done.  

The area is ok, its very suburban, so we don't have a choice of patisseries and boucheries outside our door.  But there is a brand new creche (daycare) across the street next to a new park.  There is a school on the street behind the new construction, which is next to our building.  They are spending a lot of time and money developing this area.  It can be a bit ghetto in some spots, but its relatively quiet.  We live very close to a bunch of shopping centers with big hypermarches, which are the equivalent to super Walmarts and Targets.  And, there is an Ikea very close.  Which we are at at least once a week, if only just for lunch!  We live near an RER train, which is the regional rail for Paris.  It takes us into Notre Dame in 5 stops (15 minutes) There is a bus which takes us right into our old neighborhood, or directly to the smaller airport, Orly.  And, of course, we have the car.  

I love it.  That's all I can say.  

Month 6

Month 6

So, I know, its January and month 6 was in October, but there have been a lot of changes going on around here.  And I'm lazy.  Unfortunately I didn't keep very good track of what went on when, so this will be a brief synopsis based on my memory, which roughly resembled swiss cheese at this point.  But here goes!

So I had previously been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.  I knew I didn't have it, but I went along with it until I could prove otherwise, which I got the chance to do.  I finally insisted that I have a second test.  The second test consists of going to the lab first thing in the morning, getting my blood drawn and then drinking this really nasty glucose stuff.  I had to sit there for an hour and get my blood drawn again.  As if the beverage wasn't bad enough, it gave me the worst reflux and I could do nothing about it.  I then had to sit there for another hour and get my blood drawn again.  At this point I wasn't sure if I was going to get sick from a mixture of reflux and hunger or pass out from exhaustion, boredom and hunger.  But my discomfort and annoyance was not wasted, for a passed the test with flying colors!! SEE!!! I told you so!! I'm not diabetic.  Suck it!!

So I no longer had to deal with all the testing and monitoring what I eat.  Freedom at last!  More importantly, I was right and I like that.  :)  The one good thing about eating that way is that I didn't gain any weight in the month, so the sage femme couldn't give me a hard time again about gaining weight! 

Work was getting a little bit tougher.  The hardest part is that I work by myself during the day, so if something needs to be done, its on me.  Carrying all the stuff up from the basement was getting a bit harder, especially since I couldn't just pile it all on and run up the stairs.  I did have some help by Paul and the guys in the kitchen.  Even the owners would pitch in by taking down chairs and doing anything I needed if I was stuck while they were around.  It was great. I love my job.  The customers were even understanding and not as demanding.  The sage femme asked if I wanted to stop right then, in mid October.  I had set my goal as the end of November and was determined to make it until then.  How crazy it is that I have the possibility of having off work from October?  Crazy!  Back home, as a waitress, you have to work right until the baby is crowning!  

Halloween came around.  I was excited to use my belly as part of my costume.  The only problem was that I had to work that day, so it had to be work friendly.  So no bun in the oven costume or funny partner costumes, like nun and priest.  But, I could use belly paints!!  So Farmer and pumpkin it is!!  Thanks to Octavia, I had a perfectly drawn pumpkin on my belly!!! 

Halloween 2012

So, after this picture was taken, and my shift ended, I immediately headed home to help Robbie and all of his co workers move us into our new apartment.  It was also Robbie's last day at the job he has had since we moved here.  No more asbestos!!! It was a very hectic week for us, to say the least. 

I will get into the apartment later.  In the meantime, we had gone to a Message event called a bring and buy.  Essentially it was a big indoor flea market, but geared specifically towards moms.  So everything there was for kids or moms.  It was the best thing ever for parents.  They had everything you could need.  We weren't sure what we wanted or needed, so we were pretty relaxed about it, but there were some serious shoppers there!!  I did get knocked around a bit, just like any normal flea market back home.  I now regret taking it so easy, but we just didn't know where we were going to be living, how much space we were going to have and what we even needed as some people were offering us things and we didn't know what we were being given.  But, i did score some good deals.  I got a shit load of maternity clothes for like 15 Euro.  I got one of those scarf, baby holder thingys and a playmat for the floor.  I can't wait for the next one!  

As for me, I was really feeling pretty great.  I see what they mean that the second trimester is the best.  I was absolutely loving being pregnant.  There are the frills, like people being nicer, getting seats on public transport, and skipping the queues at shops and in toilets.  But I was really enjoying having a person growing inside of me.  I was flying, as Robbie would say.  I was finally starting to feel something going on inside.  Not a whole lot, but enough to know that all was well in there.  I don't know how to describe it, but I just love being pregnant!  A girl from my bank, Michelle, said that to me once and I thought she was crazy, but I stand corrected.  I never would have thought I would ever say it myself, but its true.   

 We had our second echographie (sonogram).  We always tell them first thing that we do not want to know the sex.  And they are very good about it.  I learned a hard lesson that day: NEVER eat right before getting a sonogram.  She had a hard time finding all the parts she needed to see, Spud is apparently a bit surly and likes to hide.  So the tech had to really dig and push and rearrange all of my organs to find everything.  I really believed I was either going to vomit to shit myself right there on the table.  I started getting queasy and sweating.  Robbie looked at me and saw it right away.  He got me out of my sweater and tried to help me calm down.  I didn't do either, in case you were worried.  But I will never eat again before any doctor visit again!!I was also a bit miserable because she had my laying on the table in such a way that I could not see the screen at all without craning my neck all the way to the right and back.  So I essentially saw nothing and wanted to die, so I can't say it was the best thing ever! But at least I have the DVD!

I like this one as it looks like Spud is smiling.  After she was done, I was still lying on the table recovering from the internal trauma she inflicted.  Robbie looks at the screen and his face drops a bit.  "I think I know the sex now" he says.  "What?! I don't want to know!" I reply.  Then there's a bit of a pause.  "Well, I either know the sex of the baby, or that's your information up there"  he says all nonchalantly.  "Well that's just great!! Now I know the sex, you tit!"  I yell at him.  So, to be sure, he clarifies with the tech that the info on the screen is in fact MY info, so we did find out that I am a girl.  At least we have proof now, if it ever comes into question.  So we dodged that bullet and are still blissfully in the dark.  (As much as that annoys the shit out of some of you!)