I put away my rings today. Wedding band, engagement ring - both are tucked away safely until they can fit back on my finger. Up until now, I've been pretty lucky with the whole water retention/swelling issue and haven't really been affected.. But the final trimester seems full of surprises. My "argyle" leg problem has finally crept all the way into my fingers, and I noticed yesterday that both rings were suddenly a really tight fit. This seemed especially odd because my bands are normally quite loose; they're sized that way on purpose because I figured my fingers might change as I became older.

Little did I know how much change would actually be in store!

Once I realized how much my hands had swollen, my head was immediately filled with visions of my ring finger turning purple from lost circulation and doctors snapping the bands off with nasty plier-type tools. Not worth it. The rings would have to come off now while they still could. As I twisted and pulled the bands off, I felt sad. I felt even more sad when I put them away. Felix gave me a hug, but it still seems odd to look down at my left hand and only see a faint tan line. It seems so...lonely.

I've been rubbing my finger all morning, and it's only been an hour and a half. Sigh........

We've recently started our birthing class, and I'm definitely the freak of the class. So far, we've gone to two sessions. Every Wednesday evening, Felix and I hop in the car, drive over to the clinic, and toddle into a room full of third trimester couples, all clutching pillows to keep them comfortable for the next 2.25 hours. Everyone sits in a u-shaped arc around our instructor, and the ages seem to range between late twenties to mid/late thirties. It's basically one big pregnant fest - about fourteen round-bellied women with their husbands in tow.

Naturally, with so many different couples, the questions and comments run across the full spectrum of possibilities. This week, one woman shared a lovely story about a friend whose doctor insisted she wasn't in labor and was only the victim of constipation. One laxative prescription and a few hours later, the friend is in the restroom and - PLUNK! - her baby's born right into the toilet bowl. Our instructor's thoughts? "OK, well, that's very very very very unusual. I really don't think that's going to happen to any of you."

With all the sharing, frank questions, and down n' dirty discussions, you would think that nothing would seem strange. I mean, really, what could be weirder than the story above?! No, apparently I am weirder than that story, and at the rate I'm going, I think I might end up making us the class pariahs.

Class 1. We have an overall get-to-know-you ice breaker, followed by a general overview of pregnancy. Since everyone in the room is clearly in the third trimester and share due dates within two weeks of each other (yes, these are exactly the couples I'm going to have to do battle with to win a private hospital room when I deliver), we spend extra time discussing weeks 30-40. Our instructor points out that our babies are already quite developed; even in the womb, they can distinguish light and dark, are moving around, and can respond to sound. When asked whether any of us have tried testing any of this out, I raise my hand. I found on my Baby Center website that babies love Vivaldi, so Felix and I have been playing the Four Seasons for our little one. Sure enough, certain musical segments make her move around and kick like crazy (the Winter piece, Felix pipes up), and it's great because it's a sure-fire way to let Felix feel her move.

Immediately after my story, another pregnant Asian woman raises her hand and asks several questions about the benefits of prenatal learning; can we make our children smarter? I'm totally indignant. Oh, for Pete's sake, I think. Everyone's going to link me to this freakish woman who's already trying to create an Einstein before birth. I am NOT one of those kind of Asian parents! So even as the instructor is laughing and responding that she thinks it's a little over the top to try to instruct your fetus, my hand is already back in the air. When I'm called on again, I point out that Felix and I do NOT play Vivaldi for our baby because we think it'll make her smarter. We do it because we think it's fun and enjoy feeling her move around. Sure, I'm rather firm in my comments, but I think my smiles and friendly tone make up for it.

On the car ride home, Felix let's me know that he thinks I'm a hilarious nut. He says I was definitely on my soapbox, and my attempt to make myself not seem like a freak...made me seem like a freak. Terrific.

Class 2. We start off the session with a group check-in, where each of us says our name and due date again, as well as how our week went. I'm the very last person in the semi-circle, and as the instructor polls her way through the group, couples talk about rough days at work, difficulty sleeping, frequent trips to the bathroom, etc. It's finally my turn. I look around at the group, and trying to make up for my moment last week, I say, "Well, I'm not sure if any of you have experienced this, but it turns out that I've started snoring! Ha, ha...so not only am I having trouble sleeping, but so is poor Felix." Dead silence. The instructor indicates that snoring is actually a very common symptom of late pregnancy and asks if anyone else is also in the same boat. More silence. One guy raises his hand and reveals that he's the one that snores in their house! That's just great. I'm out there on a limb as the snoring pregnant lady, and the only person who steps out on the branch with me is a random thirty-something year old man. Of course, I lean over and whisper in Felix's ear, "Whatever! I bet these men are just too chicken to tell their wives they snore! Humph."

We later proceed to write down possible things we can do when we're in the early stage of labor, which is too soon to go to the hospital and can last for several hours. Again, the instructor polls the class, jotting down notes on the wipeboard with her blue marker. Call friends...eat some food...take a nap...have my husband give me a massage...go for a walk...so forth, and so on. It's my turn, and I figure what the hell?! Why stop now? I might as well step proudly into my freak-of-the class position and be who I am, 100%. "I'm going to go the bathroom as many times as possible. My brother is a med student, and after talking to him and many mutual friends who've attended births and done their OB rotations, I want to do whatever I can to clear out my system and minimize the mess I'm going to make when the baby's born." Man, and I thought the room was silent before! Crickets. Serious crickets.

The instructor launches into a lecture about how natural childbirth is, how most women, no matter what you do beforehand, will poop and/or pee during delivery, and there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. The instructor also does NOT write my activity on her wipeboard list, much to my indignation. Of course, this just makes me whisper to Felix even more - "I don't care what the class thinks or how natural the instructor thinks all this is. I am NOT making a big ol' poopie on the floor of our delivery room, and in early labor, I am going to the bathroom!" By the time we're driving home in the car, I'm thoroughly convinced I did my classmates a favor. There are some truths to birth that I think everyone should be aware of, and if you can't find it in a book or get it from a friend, you can always count on me to fill you in!!!

Poor Felix! We still have four more weeks of class!

I've hit week 30! It really feels like a turning point; I've completed my transformation and am fully someone else. That's right - Kathy Chi as she was known is GONE, replaced by an awkward, heavy, emotionally-unstable, pregnant woman who snores and pees every hour. Seriously, I don't even recognize myself anymore, mentally or physically, and now that I'm approaching the end, the reality of how much I've changed has finally sunk in.

Don't believe me? Let me walk you through the truth.

Emotional instability. One evening last week, Felix came over to tell me he was going to bed and headed upstairs. A very normal announcement he's often made in the last three years we've been married. This time, however, I knew he was being malicious. How dare he just go to bed without asking me if I wanted to go, too? What about my feelings? Doesn't he love me enough to want to share bedtime with me, too? I promptly went upstairs after him and gave him the worst cold shoulder I could muster. It took him about 2.5 seconds to figure out I was upset (he knows me so well), and when confronted, I immediately burst into tears, accused him of hurting my feelings, and sobbed that I didn't feel like he cared enough about me at bedtime. I'm not kidding - ask Felix and he'll tell you this is really how I reacted. It only took about another seven minutes of probing for me to admit through my tears that I was actually feeling really isolated as a pregnant woman and sick of not being myself. You just take so many things in life for granted pre-pregnancy - like sleeping like a normal person!!! - and I was filled with a desperate longing for those good ol' normal nights.

Physically awkward. We went on a walk through the foothills this past Sunday to check out the wildflowers. You gotta go see them when you can in California because once the weather warms up and it stops raining, everything immediately runs through its brief lifespan, dies, and turns brown. We head up the trail at pregnant-wife-pace, and it isn't long before people start catching up with us and needing to pass us by. Including several - no, many - elderly folks. Were they walking slowly? You bet! Regardless, it was piece of cake to pass the twenty-eight year old pregnant girl 'cause she's just too heavy and awkward to move any faster. To top it off, I wore my cute knee-high argyle grey/white/black socks yesterday...but when I took them off at night, I discovered that my legs had been imprinted in the same argyle pattern. Argh! The worst is coming true; I'm retaining water and swelling up to the point where I have ARGYLE LEGS. I screamed and ran to show Felix immediately. It was a nightmare.

Snoring. Even though I'd been warned by others, including my own sister-in-law, I just assumed I'd be one of those people who got through pregnancy without snoring. After all, pregnancy is a neverending litany of possible symptoms, some of which you suffer from, some of which you avoid. There was no way I was going to start snoring. I NEVER snore. Never. Never. Sadly, no amount of denial could stave off the inevitable. The last few days, poor Felix has been stumbling around rather sleep-deprived. My snoring has been waking him up and keeping him awake at night. Unhappily resigned to the truth, I've already offered to sleep in another room. There's no reason he should also suffer from sleeping poorly just because I am. Felix, however, has bravely and sweetly turned me down, insisting that it's not that bad. Hmmm...we'll see. There are still two months to go, and this morning, Felix was driven out of our room at a little before 6am. He just couldn't stand it anymore. I think it can only get worse.

So you see? I'm obviously not myself anymore. The old Kathy is long gone, and a 30-week, 3-pound munchkin has taken my place. I have to admit, though - despite all the craziness, feelings of isolation, loss of self, and everything else....I'm so excited about the baby and her eventual arrival. That's the one happy thought that keeps me going, and I'm certain it will still sustain me through the heinous 10 weeks to go (or less, if I'm lucky!!!).