LSMFT

Today as I was rubbing my belly--something I do with great frequency--the phrase "so round, so firm, so fully packed" came to mind. Originally, that was part of a Lucky Strike cigarette commercial. I used to listen to the Jack Benny radio program on cassette when I worked for a printer in college, so I've heard the phrase often. In the ad, LSMFT stands for Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco. Right now to me it means L-See's Mama's Full Tummy. It's kind of a stretch to make the initialism (not acronym) work, but it's not bad.

I have read that Braxton-Hicks contractions make the abdomen hard and then relax. It's sometimes hard to tell if I'm having a contraction or if Elsie has surfaced. I'm not sure how much depth my abdomen has, but sometimes my belly is round, and other times it's got a huge lump where her back is. I used to always blame her when my belly felt taut (for which I have apologized), but a time or two I've been sure it was a contraction. But often it's her. We've got each other trained. When she surfaces, I rub her back. However, when I want to make sure she's OK, I rub and pat my belly, and she surfaces for her back rub. It's working for us.

A couple of weeks ago I felt like I had a bruise on my belly. I couldn't see anything, but it hurt. A few days later, several spots were hurting. And a few days after that, I notice that the hurting correlated with little red spots on my belly. Eventually, I figured out that I was hurting because I was coming apart at the seams. I now know that stretch marks really are like runs in pantyhose: they just keep running. So far they aren't threatening my chin, but we've got up to 2.5 weeks left and a baby with an abdomen in the 95th percentile. I started using a cream for stretch marks about a month ago to try to keep them from reaching my chin. It's not vanity, exactly. A non-pregnant belly that already looks like an accordion file tends to keep vanity in check. I just wanted to keep them from getting worse; and when they became painful, I had extra incentive to moisturize. When I ran out of cream, I discovered Tummy Butter. The cream did nothing to stop the pain, but the Tummy Butter soothes on contact. It comes in a tub and smells like vanilla. I love that stuff. Elsie does, too. When I get into bed after my bath every night, I grease myself up with Tummy Butter. And because I rub my tummy, Elsie surfaces for a back rub. It's a pretty great way to end the day.

I'm glad there's something nice I can do for Elsie (rub her back) to make up for all the times she gets bumped and squished. I try not to lean my belly against things, but my arms are short. When I stretch my arms in front of me, my belly sticks out past my elbows. This leaves me with a reach about a long as a tyrannosaurus rex's. It's inevitable that I will bump my belly just going about daily life: washing dishes, typing on a keyboard on my desk, reaching groceries on supermarket shelves. She kicks me when something presses on my belly. So when I bump my belly hard enough to hurt me, I get smacked from both inside and outside. I can't win. I've been trying to do some organizing around the house, but it's getting hard to carry even empty plastic tubs because my reach is so short.

Other than banging my painfully stretching belly on things, I'm doing well. Still no swelling. Only occasional heartburn. No wild-eyed desperate hunger attacks. No more back pain than usual. If my physical comfort were the only consideration, she could stay in there for another month or two without my complaining. However, for her own sake, I'm urging her to try being an outside baby. Perhaps all the banging and squishing will encourage her consider it.