~ Shouldn't you be sitting down?
I am still very, very itchy! The doctor I saw this week said yes, it is PUPPP or something like it. If it continues to be bad enough, they would consider induction at 39 weeks. I can't decide yet if I want to do that; it will depend on how bad the rash has gotten, I'm sure. At this point it seems to not be spreading, but the itching gets intense and wakes me up (and keeps me up) in the night. I'm using Sarna (camphor, menthol) and Benadryl during the day, and I still itch but not as bad. Then I use Benadryl, hydrocortisone, and IcyHot at night. I'd use the IcyHot/hydrocortisone combo day and night if it wasn't greasy and stinky, not to mention expensive going through so many tubes!
I had a baby shower with my family this weekend that my mom and Jeremiah's mom threw. It was very nice, even though it always feels strange to me to have a mix of people like that. A few friends couldn't make it who I wished had been there, but overall people were sociable and seemed to have fun. I stood too much (I have been overestimating what I am physically capable of doing lately…) and was extra swollen through the next day, but it wasn't intolerable. Oh, and the cake was worth it! My mother got a cake from Flour Power Cakery, and my goodness, that may have been the best part of the party.
I noticed at the end of last week that people are starting to stare at me as I move. Through stores, on the sidewalk . . . if I am moving, people are staring with this look that reads, "Should you be doing that?" What's funny is that I find myself staring at pregnant women too, but not because I'm worried they're going to break or collapse or gush at any moment; I am (guiltily) doing a very "woman" thing, checking to see if her feet look as swollen as mine are, if she can still squeeze her rings on her fingers, if her arms got fatter with her belly, how far along I'd guess her to be, etc.
After doing this enough times, I have decided that I am lucky because only my feet look swollen so far, not my ankles, and that makes it a lot less odd-looking. It's gross though--if I tap the ball of my foot on the ground while my leg is a few inches in the air, I can feel the swollenness sloshing around! Ew. My "sausage fingers" (Jeremiah's playful nickname for me) make it increasingly harder to grip things, so I have to concentrate very hard on grasping breakables. I actually concentrated too hard the other day, and as I lifted the pitcher of water I accidentally knocked a bowl on the ground, and it shattered.
. . . Which leads me to the other symptom of late: constantly being on the verge of crying. The bowl shatters, and immediately I start to cry. In retrospect, who cares? It's a bowl. We got them when we got married, and I'm sure they still make them. But . . . the Me of the moment starts blubbering things like "but I really LIKE those bowls!" and "but now we have to sweep and vacuum in the kitchen again!" And by we, of course, my poor hubby knows I mean him, seeing as I will be recovering from this episode for 15 more minutes.
In addition to consoling inconsolably hormonal and overworked Me, Jeremiah continues to impress me as he steps so self-assuredly into his role as Daddy. When I was 4 or 5 months pregnant, you couldn't have convinced him he should kiss and talk to my belly. My mother tried, but J read up on it and can quote studies that show that a baby absolutely can't discern voices other than the mother's from the womb. But . . . within the last month he has instinctively started to really coo at and kiss my humongous belly, and he pokes and plays with her until she wiggles and kicks back. I probably enjoy these moments more than he does even.