Hard times in New York Town

Tag: Pregnancy

For no gladiator could put up with my life

Sheer terror

Please vote for the most frightening moment I have endured over the last few days (my life being a kind of boring horror movie).

1/ that moment when you realize that your daughter, whom you though was on spring break for two days, is actually on spring break for A WHOLE FUCKING WEEK. Which means you will have to deal with her for two more days, while you have exhausted all your tricks ‘swimming pool / theater / please go to your room, find yourself something to do and come back in three hours’.

2/ that moment when after pretending for 9 months that you didn’t care, you finally convert your weight in kilograms. Yep, 170 pounds IS a lot, and not just in pounds.

3/ that moment when you are alone for the night and you cannot find the remote control of the apple TV. And you are too fat to look under the couch, see previous paragraph.

* swimming pool when you are 9 month-pregnant: a moment of pure glamour.

We are the champions my friend

For the first time in history, my OB hasn’t told me I’m too fat. If you are looking for me, I’ll be at the coffee shop around the corner, eating chocolate chip cookies to celebrate.

Livin la vida loca #2

It is exactly 5:02 PM.

I wake up from an unforeseen nap, lead my painful body toward the fridge, grab a bottle of whipped cream and joylessly gobble out of the bottle.

Living life to the fullest.

Game over

0/3 – set OB


– a first and slightly traumatising appointment

– a second appointment which had disturbingly revealed that the foetus didn’t have a spine (because obviously, if the spine couldn’t be seen properly at the ultrasound, it’s because it didn’t exist (in fact, the foetus just wasn’t positioned properly (but as I now know that appointments at my hospital have a lot in common with Wolfgang Petersen movies (in short: the opposite of subtle), I usually remain pretty calm (the idea being mostly for the hospital to cover its ass in the unlikely case of a real issue (FYI, the additional ultrasound and blood test both revealed an immaculate and perfect spine)))

here are accurate minutes of my third appointment. 17 seconds, 4 sentences:

– you have to drink more

– you gained too much weight

– you should now sleep on the left side, otherwise it’s going to hurt the baby

– you can put your clothes back on, I don’t need to examine you

Pregnancy – gadgets

How could I survive two pregnancies without a babypod?


For those who don’t get the concept (it took me a while to figure out) here is the explanation. For 134.81 dollars you get both a vibrator and the insurance that your foetus maximises his chances to become Mozart. Can’t believe you are still hesitating.

Livin la vida loca

It is 11:07 PM, I’m going to bed, and my computer lies on my fat belly, stuffed with (i) kettle-cooked-lighly-salted-chips, and (ii) a baby.

Living life to the fullest.

OBGYN performing C-section in my worst nightmare

Searching for Sugar OB

I am pregnant. Third (and last). That baby will be an American citizen, which is pretty cool. On the other hand, I am not thrilled to spend the price of a Cadillac on my third C-section.
So in the US, you have to choose your OBGYN from the beginning, whereas in Europe (or at least in France), it is very uncommon to know who will deliver your baby.
Obviously, I start double-checking all the OBGYN’s diplomas like a maniac. And after a careful selection, I end up choosing an OB who wears braces. I tend to find it disgusting. I bravely decide that this might however not be of essence when she will cut my belly.
OB and his assistant (foreground). Patient taken away by other assistants (background)

My first date (with my OB)

Before my first appointment with my OBGYN, I have to answer thirty pages of paperwork. My favourite questions are cascading-questions-designed-to-make-you-trust-in-your-OB.  Do you have a durable power of attorney? Do you have a do not resuscitate document? Do you have an advanced directive or living will?
Then, finally, I meet her. I have to admit I am a bit intimidated (I even wear my pretty heels for reassurance).
At first she is into the classic “how wonderful you are pregnant” (she is very good at this, except for a relatively monotone voice. She has probably been saying those exact words 3 times a day for about 30 years, I understand).
I am about to get examined, with that ridiculous sheet to cover my naked body (she should not see, but she will touch, that’s even the whole point, so as a true French I don’t really understand what’s the big deal).
And all of a sudden, in the United States of America, land of politically correct and “it’s soooo amazzzzing to see youuuu””, she says “and now, let’s see from behind”. And bam. RECTAL EXAMINATION. I swear. I am in shock, I don’t know why this should be necessary, but what I first think about is my law degree: what she just did is just EXACTLY the French legal definition of a rape (penetration perpetrated in this case by surprise).
Should I sue her to cover for the delivery, or am I becoming too American?