Posts
Thank you so much for your well-wishes. It has been a long and exhausting couple of days, and today I am back at work, moving gingerly and sitting carefully. Everything hurts, and oddly, my hips feel loose and slightly out of whack. Baby doesn't seem to mind, though, and has been utilizing its breach position to its full advantage. The ribs on my right hand side are apparently highly entertaining, and feet or fingers are in there all the time.
Yesterday was spent on the couch, trying to rest and feeling antsy at the same time. I felt fine unless I actually moved any muscles, so I alternated between deciding to get up and do something and then changing my mind once I made any attempts to move. I reviewed our registry several times, and got a bit freaked when I discovered that people have bought some of the gifts! The gifts that I haven't finalized yet and weren't ready to be purchased! Now I know what I'll be doing this weekend, I suppose.
The other frustrating news, is that while I was at the hospital, the doctor suggested that I go ahead and do the glucose test since I was having rounds of bloodwork anyway. I would normally have been excited about this, except that right before my fall, we'd attended a "break fast" party for Yom Kippur, and my dinner consisted of soda, cake, decaf coffee with tons of sugar, cake, kugel (noodles, cream cheese, pineapple and raisins), and cake, so I suspected that my glucose levels were rather high to begin with. The cutoff is 140, and my result was 141. Sigh.
Now I have to fast from midnight tonight until 1pm tomorrow, murder for a pregnant woman, as you might expect, and do the 3 hour glucose test at the hospital. My doctor assures me that she wouldn't even do the repeat at all, except that if she doesn't, the number will stay in my record and eventually someone will raise a fuss that I never technically passed the test. Better safe than sorry, I guess, although I would rather have held off on the initial test until I had eaten a regular meal.
So to tell you the truth, besides feeling immensely grateful that baby seems fine, things are rather grumpy in the pregnancy world. Grumpy, punctuated with adoration for the rolls and kicks. I figure that I'll give myself a day or so to feel grumpy, and then kick myself out of it.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
just for kicks
It was getting a bit boring around here, what with all the love and mushiness and registry talk, so I fell down the basement stairs last night in spectacular fashion. Spectacular, I tell you. Feet flying out from under me, with hands full and unable to break my fall at all. I fell flat on my back and butt, stopped my head from slamming into the stairs by slamming my elbows into the stairs and then fell the rest of the way (about 6 steps). A glass pitcher flew across the basement, the steel pan that I was carrying in the other hand was flung against the wall, and then I collapsed at the base of the stairs in hysterics.
I couldn't catch my breath, and it hurt SO DARN MUCH that I thought for sure I'd broken my tail bone, and I kept thinking about the baby, oh my GOD, the baby. I was sobbing, eyes closed, shaking and trying to catch my breath while Josh ran down the stairs to my side and begged me to tell him what had happened. It felt like an eternity before I could breathe enough to tell him how hard I'd fallen and that he needed to call the doctor's emergency line.
So we spent last night being monitored for several hours in the labor and delivery ward, with ultrasounds and baby monitors and contraction monitors and blood work. Everyone is FINE, except for the massive bruises up and down my butt and back and elbows. Frankly, though, I'll take those 1,000,000 times over, just to hear that my baby is happy and safe.
We drank some orange juice right after the fall to encourage baby to move, because he or she was strangely quiet. During the race to the hospital, baby was moving fairly actively and once we got to the hospital and I was hooked up to the monitor, the kicking and twisting was nonstop. No contractions, no bleeding, the ultrasound looked fabulous, although the little bugger decided to turn fully breach, with its bottom near my cervix, head near my ribcage, and legs and arms stretched straight out into my right side and in front of baby's face. On the ultrasound we watched him playing with his toes and umbilical cord. Baby even regaled us with practice breaths and the hiccups while on screen.
We went home around 4am after they were satisfied that everything was fine, with strict orders to rest all day and come in immediately if anything seemed amiss. Everything has been fine all day, with only soreness and bruising to show for the experience. That, and new rules about walking around the house with rubber soled slippers instead of socks. I'm only a step above going down the stairs on my bottom, at this point.
I'm hoping this is the end of the excitement for this pregnancy, I think Josh and I have had enough.
I couldn't catch my breath, and it hurt SO DARN MUCH that I thought for sure I'd broken my tail bone, and I kept thinking about the baby, oh my GOD, the baby. I was sobbing, eyes closed, shaking and trying to catch my breath while Josh ran down the stairs to my side and begged me to tell him what had happened. It felt like an eternity before I could breathe enough to tell him how hard I'd fallen and that he needed to call the doctor's emergency line.
So we spent last night being monitored for several hours in the labor and delivery ward, with ultrasounds and baby monitors and contraction monitors and blood work. Everyone is FINE, except for the massive bruises up and down my butt and back and elbows. Frankly, though, I'll take those 1,000,000 times over, just to hear that my baby is happy and safe.
We drank some orange juice right after the fall to encourage baby to move, because he or she was strangely quiet. During the race to the hospital, baby was moving fairly actively and once we got to the hospital and I was hooked up to the monitor, the kicking and twisting was nonstop. No contractions, no bleeding, the ultrasound looked fabulous, although the little bugger decided to turn fully breach, with its bottom near my cervix, head near my ribcage, and legs and arms stretched straight out into my right side and in front of baby's face. On the ultrasound we watched him playing with his toes and umbilical cord. Baby even regaled us with practice breaths and the hiccups while on screen.
We went home around 4am after they were satisfied that everything was fine, with strict orders to rest all day and come in immediately if anything seemed amiss. Everything has been fine all day, with only soreness and bruising to show for the experience. That, and new rules about walking around the house with rubber soled slippers instead of socks. I'm only a step above going down the stairs on my bottom, at this point.
I'm hoping this is the end of the excitement for this pregnancy, I think Josh and I have had enough.
Friday, September 29, 2006
nooooo, no hormones over here
My mom told me years ago that before you have a baby, love songs are about your significant other, whoever they happen to be. But once you have a child, every love song brings you back to this new love of your life. When people talk about unconditional love, you realize that your love for your baby takes it to a whole new level. These days, I am consumed with love for this being that spends every second with me. This belly that is fast approaching the size of a (rather large) pumpkin. I try to picture what this baby looks like, and I don't mean whether he has Josh's cleft chin, or she has my straight brown hair, but just a picture of an actual baby. With eyes and ears and hands that she keeps by her face, and feet that he kicks around and crosses and uncrosses. A real live baby, fully formed, gaining weight and practicing breathing.
We had our final hypnobirthing class on Tuesday, and at the end watched another video of a birth. It seems almost impossible to me that at the end of this wonderful journey, that tiny baby might be placed in my arms. Josh seems to believe it more, and his most common refrain when he chats with the belly is to remind him or her or how excited he is to meet his baby. He squeezes my hand when we see an infant, and his face lights up when someone asks him about the pregnancy. I am equally consumed with love for him these days, with watching how he is changing, how our relationship is changing, imagining what kind of father he'll be.
So I wasn't wholly surprised when I burst into tears the other day when a sappy love song came onto the radio. I was surprised when I couldn't stop crying for the rest of the ride to work, but I guess pregnancy will do that to you.
The other day, another associate came into my office to tell me that her doctor had decided to induce her that day, at 38 weeks, and that she was off to pack a bag and head to the hospital. She confessed that she was nervous to be induced and nervous about how painful labor would be. I could hardly contain my excitement, though, and I clapped my hands together and reminded her that she would be meeting her baby soon! If not tonight, then tomorrow! And then, I promptly burst into tears.
BURST INTO TEARS. And I don't really know this girl, she is just a friendly colleague. So she stood there looking awkward, while I tried to contain my tears, then hugged me quickly, wished me luck, and ran the hell out of my office. It took me 5 minutes just to get my tears under control, all the while feeling terribly embarassed. I guess the idea that someone, anyone, would get to meet their baby today, just pushed me over the edge. I felt like I was in a sitcom.
I pity Josh a bit, because I'm starting to think that despite my denials, I may be just a tad hormonal.
We had our final hypnobirthing class on Tuesday, and at the end watched another video of a birth. It seems almost impossible to me that at the end of this wonderful journey, that tiny baby might be placed in my arms. Josh seems to believe it more, and his most common refrain when he chats with the belly is to remind him or her or how excited he is to meet his baby. He squeezes my hand when we see an infant, and his face lights up when someone asks him about the pregnancy. I am equally consumed with love for him these days, with watching how he is changing, how our relationship is changing, imagining what kind of father he'll be.
So I wasn't wholly surprised when I burst into tears the other day when a sappy love song came onto the radio. I was surprised when I couldn't stop crying for the rest of the ride to work, but I guess pregnancy will do that to you.
The other day, another associate came into my office to tell me that her doctor had decided to induce her that day, at 38 weeks, and that she was off to pack a bag and head to the hospital. She confessed that she was nervous to be induced and nervous about how painful labor would be. I could hardly contain my excitement, though, and I clapped my hands together and reminded her that she would be meeting her baby soon! If not tonight, then tomorrow! And then, I promptly burst into tears.
BURST INTO TEARS. And I don't really know this girl, she is just a friendly colleague. So she stood there looking awkward, while I tried to contain my tears, then hugged me quickly, wished me luck, and ran the hell out of my office. It took me 5 minutes just to get my tears under control, all the while feeling terribly embarassed. I guess the idea that someone, anyone, would get to meet their baby today, just pushed me over the edge. I felt like I was in a sitcom.
I pity Josh a bit, because I'm starting to think that despite my denials, I may be just a tad hormonal.
Monday, September 25, 2006
operation baby
Do you know what today is? Today is September 25th. The 25th. As in, 3 months from December 25th. Also known as 3 months from my due date, the date on which I have forbidden this baby from appearing any earlier. I hear most women hoping their baby appears a couple of weeks early, or at the very least right on their due date, and instead I find myself lecturing my uterus on the fine art of patience and remaining inside until I am ready for baby to emerge.
My mom bought us a tiny little countdown clock that we keep on the mantle, and I noticed a few days ago with no small measure of alarm that the clock has bypassed 100 and dropped into double digit numbers. Double digits! On the one hand, Christmas seems forever away, and I have more than enough time to finish the registry, and get Josh to paint the room, and purchase the crib, and order the dresser and the rocker, and get diapers, and do all of those things that everyone tells me don't actually need to be done before the baby is born but I feel a pressing need to complete. Yesterday, though, when I saw the Christmas display already set up and twinkling at Target, I felt a little sick to my stomach. Excited sick, but sick nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Josh skips around the house singing and alternately cupping my belly in his hands and telling baby to come "faster, faster!" because he can't wait for December to arrive. Every night he presses his hands against my abdomen as we wait for the nightly internal kickboxing show to begin, and every night he ends up sighing and telling me how jealous he is that I get to feel our baby every single day. I am so lucky, on so many levels, there is not doubt about that.
So that is what we're doing these days. I try to get my head around the idea that a baby might come home at the end of all this, and it seems impossible. Instead, I focus on cleaning out the closet, finding spaces for the junk accumulated in that room. I've discovered that the color yellow is an evil bastard, and I have 6 different 2*2 foot swatches painted on the wall to prove it, none of which match the yellow of the crib bumper exactly right. Did you know that yellow can be too green and too orange and too icy and too pale and too just plain wrong? Because I didn't. But when I asked at the paint store for a common yellow used in a nursery, the clerk just laughed and laughed. I should have known then.
Yesterday I attended a prenatal yoga class, and I'm in all kinds of pain right now. Pain in places where I didn't know I had muscles, like my ribs and my back and my shoulders. Ouch. I'll try to believe the teacher, though, when she tells me that I'm making space for my baby by stretching out my chest and doing squats. Seriously, though, OUCH.
Besides all of this, I herald the arrival of my favorite season, of course. My favorite holiday is coming up soon, and then I suspect that the days will fly by from there. I'm just trying to hold onto these last couple months before they slip through my fingers.
My mom bought us a tiny little countdown clock that we keep on the mantle, and I noticed a few days ago with no small measure of alarm that the clock has bypassed 100 and dropped into double digit numbers. Double digits! On the one hand, Christmas seems forever away, and I have more than enough time to finish the registry, and get Josh to paint the room, and purchase the crib, and order the dresser and the rocker, and get diapers, and do all of those things that everyone tells me don't actually need to be done before the baby is born but I feel a pressing need to complete. Yesterday, though, when I saw the Christmas display already set up and twinkling at Target, I felt a little sick to my stomach. Excited sick, but sick nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Josh skips around the house singing and alternately cupping my belly in his hands and telling baby to come "faster, faster!" because he can't wait for December to arrive. Every night he presses his hands against my abdomen as we wait for the nightly internal kickboxing show to begin, and every night he ends up sighing and telling me how jealous he is that I get to feel our baby every single day. I am so lucky, on so many levels, there is not doubt about that.
So that is what we're doing these days. I try to get my head around the idea that a baby might come home at the end of all this, and it seems impossible. Instead, I focus on cleaning out the closet, finding spaces for the junk accumulated in that room. I've discovered that the color yellow is an evil bastard, and I have 6 different 2*2 foot swatches painted on the wall to prove it, none of which match the yellow of the crib bumper exactly right. Did you know that yellow can be too green and too orange and too icy and too pale and too just plain wrong? Because I didn't. But when I asked at the paint store for a common yellow used in a nursery, the clerk just laughed and laughed. I should have known then.
Yesterday I attended a prenatal yoga class, and I'm in all kinds of pain right now. Pain in places where I didn't know I had muscles, like my ribs and my back and my shoulders. Ouch. I'll try to believe the teacher, though, when she tells me that I'm making space for my baby by stretching out my chest and doing squats. Seriously, though, OUCH.
Besides all of this, I herald the arrival of my favorite season, of course. My favorite holiday is coming up soon, and then I suspect that the days will fly by from there. I'm just trying to hold onto these last couple months before they slip through my fingers.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
my hips (and my heels!) don't lie
I have to go back in time for a second to comment on the advice! My goodness, people, the advice! I love it! I'm going to print it all out, 3 hole punch it, put it in a binder, and hand it to the salesperson at Oversized Baby Store and tell them to pick all my products for me. Or I might give it all to Josh who will then collate it into a spreadsheet laying out the median responses of all participants, and then maybe make a graph for each product that includes yesses and nos, because that is the type of thing these MBA students like to do. You think I'm joking, but I'm not.
Seriously, though, THANK YOU! I will be going into Oversized Baby Store to begin our registry there and I will most certainly NOT be adding a wipes warmer or a bottle sterilizer to our list. I will also be sitting down tonight and analyzing whether we even have the space for all this junk, because indeed, as a couple of you pointed out, perhaps our 1500 square foot house may be a bit small for the goods. The baby's room is a solid 9 foot by 9 foot, a fact that makes me want to weep a bit as I look through baby magazines and catalogs. Oh the things I could do with a normal sized room that doesn't have 2 windows, a door, a closet and a wall of built in bookshelves.
Since my post asking for all of your suggestions, I failed to mention one of the major milestones of my second trimester a couple of weeks ago- Josh and I met up for a Shakira concert at the Boston Garden! Shakira, I know, but I am not ashamed to admit that I love Shakira's music with a fiery passion. I have been listening to her for years and years and years, having picked up her music on one of my many visits to Buenos Aires in high school and college. I think her music is intertwined in my mind with wonderful outings with cousins and friends, and freedom to explore a city that is foreign but feels like home at the same time.
Attending her concert and hearing the songs I've been singing for years in person was a fabulous gift, and she played all of my favorite songs, even one of those random ones that I simply adore but was never a top hit. Josh and I danced so much standing in our seats and in the aisles that for days afterwards my heels were bruised a dark black and blue. I worried a bit about the baby's hearing since some of her songs are very loud, especially her newest hit with Wyclef Jean, but the baby seemed content to dance along with me via the womb. I've thrown her CD in a few times since then, and baby kicks along with my singing, so either he or she likes the music, or is adamantly asking me to STOP.
But again, thank you for all your tips! I am feeling much more relaxed about the whole registry thing, and I'm confident that I won't start crying when they hand me the clicker!
Seriously, though, THANK YOU! I will be going into Oversized Baby Store to begin our registry there and I will most certainly NOT be adding a wipes warmer or a bottle sterilizer to our list. I will also be sitting down tonight and analyzing whether we even have the space for all this junk, because indeed, as a couple of you pointed out, perhaps our 1500 square foot house may be a bit small for the goods. The baby's room is a solid 9 foot by 9 foot, a fact that makes me want to weep a bit as I look through baby magazines and catalogs. Oh the things I could do with a normal sized room that doesn't have 2 windows, a door, a closet and a wall of built in bookshelves.
Since my post asking for all of your suggestions, I failed to mention one of the major milestones of my second trimester a couple of weeks ago- Josh and I met up for a Shakira concert at the Boston Garden! Shakira, I know, but I am not ashamed to admit that I love Shakira's music with a fiery passion. I have been listening to her for years and years and years, having picked up her music on one of my many visits to Buenos Aires in high school and college. I think her music is intertwined in my mind with wonderful outings with cousins and friends, and freedom to explore a city that is foreign but feels like home at the same time.
Attending her concert and hearing the songs I've been singing for years in person was a fabulous gift, and she played all of my favorite songs, even one of those random ones that I simply adore but was never a top hit. Josh and I danced so much standing in our seats and in the aisles that for days afterwards my heels were bruised a dark black and blue. I worried a bit about the baby's hearing since some of her songs are very loud, especially her newest hit with Wyclef Jean, but the baby seemed content to dance along with me via the womb. I've thrown her CD in a few times since then, and baby kicks along with my singing, so either he or she likes the music, or is adamantly asking me to STOP.
But again, thank you for all your tips! I am feeling much more relaxed about the whole registry thing, and I'm confident that I won't start crying when they hand me the clicker!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
holy reflux, batman
People kept warning me that along with closeness to your due date, the third trimester also delivers lovely gifts such as heartburn and acid reflux.
I didn't actually realize that by acid reflux you meant "clawing at your chest, having to get up at 4am because your esophagus is being burned from the inside, uncontrollable burping all day at work, can't drink decaf coffee anymore" type of acid reflux.
It's been lovely, really.
I'd had a few instances of heartburn before last night, but this was just ridiculous. I'm hoping that this will not be a regular occurrence, and I plan on using Dr. Google to let me know what types of foods I should avoid and whether I should try getting up or drinking milk, or what I can possible try the next time I am unable to lie down because of the burning.
Advice? It was just the one time, right? It isn't going to happen again? Because holy reflux, I am only 25 weeks! There are (hopefully) a lot of weeks to go!
I didn't actually realize that by acid reflux you meant "clawing at your chest, having to get up at 4am because your esophagus is being burned from the inside, uncontrollable burping all day at work, can't drink decaf coffee anymore" type of acid reflux.
It's been lovely, really.
I'd had a few instances of heartburn before last night, but this was just ridiculous. I'm hoping that this will not be a regular occurrence, and I plan on using Dr. Google to let me know what types of foods I should avoid and whether I should try getting up or drinking milk, or what I can possible try the next time I am unable to lie down because of the burning.
Advice? It was just the one time, right? It isn't going to happen again? Because holy reflux, I am only 25 weeks! There are (hopefully) a lot of weeks to go!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
baby scares
I guess no pregnancy can be totally perfect, and maybe every baby has to give you a bit of a scare before he or she is born. This Sunday, as we were leaving to run errands like picking up paint samples and looking at cribs, I began having stabbing abdominal pains. At first, I wasn't concerned, but simply followed the advice of all my pregnancy books and drank a glass of water, put my feet up, tried lying on my left side, but nothing helped.
The pains got worse, until I couldn't stand up straight and Josh was begging me to call the emergency line at my Ob/Gyn. We finally got through to the doctor on call at the hospital, when she proceeded to further scare me to death by telling me that she was concerned that I was either in early labor or had appendicitis and wanted me to go straight to labor and delivery. The pains were radiating downward, starting at about an inch to the right of my belly button and a couple of inches down. Walking or touching the area made the pains worse.
I tried to keep my emotions under control, but the only thought running through my head was "25 weeks... 25 weeks... 25 weeks... it is just too early." I didn't know whether a baby could survive surgery, if it really was appendicitis, and even contemplating anything different made me want to vomit.
After 3 hours at the hospital, blood tests, urine analysis, exams and ultrasounds, we could come to no conclusions. The pains eventually faded after a couple of hours, and the on-call doctor's best guess was that my growing uterus had been compressing one of the organs in the area, causing the organ to be unable to function and therefore spasm and contract with accompanying pain. I was told to come straight in if the pain recurred, but in the meantime I could resume all normal activities and try not to worry.
All has been well since then, and I'm back to feeling great. Thankfully, the whole time I was experiencing the pains, the baby was kicking up a storm so I didn't worry about how the baby was at that instant. I just worried about the future.
I guess I'll just chalk this one up to phantom pregnancy pains, and put it in my pregnancy book as one of the many things I'll hold over this baby's head along with labor, hemorrhoids, and sleepless nights.
The pains got worse, until I couldn't stand up straight and Josh was begging me to call the emergency line at my Ob/Gyn. We finally got through to the doctor on call at the hospital, when she proceeded to further scare me to death by telling me that she was concerned that I was either in early labor or had appendicitis and wanted me to go straight to labor and delivery. The pains were radiating downward, starting at about an inch to the right of my belly button and a couple of inches down. Walking or touching the area made the pains worse.
I tried to keep my emotions under control, but the only thought running through my head was "25 weeks... 25 weeks... 25 weeks... it is just too early." I didn't know whether a baby could survive surgery, if it really was appendicitis, and even contemplating anything different made me want to vomit.
After 3 hours at the hospital, blood tests, urine analysis, exams and ultrasounds, we could come to no conclusions. The pains eventually faded after a couple of hours, and the on-call doctor's best guess was that my growing uterus had been compressing one of the organs in the area, causing the organ to be unable to function and therefore spasm and contract with accompanying pain. I was told to come straight in if the pain recurred, but in the meantime I could resume all normal activities and try not to worry.
All has been well since then, and I'm back to feeling great. Thankfully, the whole time I was experiencing the pains, the baby was kicking up a storm so I didn't worry about how the baby was at that instant. I just worried about the future.
I guess I'll just chalk this one up to phantom pregnancy pains, and put it in my pregnancy book as one of the many things I'll hold over this baby's head along with labor, hemorrhoids, and sleepless nights.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
all my lists won't really help, will they?
This morning I was thinking about Yankee, Transferred and Jo(e) who are each watching one of their children head off to college. Jo(e)'s eldest son and Yankee's older daughter are beginning their new adventures this year as freshman at their respective universities. I know that watching your child spread their wings and make the natural progression to leaving your home brings with it a whirlwind of emotions, but for me, this morning, it brought a crying jag lasting over an hour.
I have moments when the happiness of a solitary kick or roll can bring me to tears, but today I am terrified at the thought that someday this baby will leave me. Someday soon, I won't be able to simply cover my belly with my hands to shield it from the outside world. Much sooner than I can even fathom, I'll have to watch this baby walk away from me at a playground, or at the doors of preschool, or for a school dance, or for college. They are all things I want for my child, of course, but if I love this tiny thing so much already, when we haven't even met, how will I ever be able to let go?
It scares me to death.
It makes me wonder how I could allow myself to do this, make myself so vulnerable? And yesterday, when I read on Chris' blog that you wait 9 months for this baby to come out, to see for yourself that he or she is safe. When really, the only time your baby is really safe is when she is safely esconced in your uterus. That just makes me burst into tears all over again.
I'm not a person that opens herself up to hurt or pain, although I admit that I am rather sensitive. I tend to protect my emotions more often than not, but in this case, I've made this decision that will change my life forever. It will never be about just me or just me and Josh ever again.
And the day I finally give birth to this wee kicking monkey, I'll have to share him or her with everyone else. When I think about it that way, the first 6 months seem so easy, because at least this baby will rely on Josh and I for everything, and I can shelter him or her in my arms. But as soon as he crawls, or walks, or runs, I'll have to learn to start letting go.
But how do you do it? Also, how do you stop crying long enough to do it?
I have moments when the happiness of a solitary kick or roll can bring me to tears, but today I am terrified at the thought that someday this baby will leave me. Someday soon, I won't be able to simply cover my belly with my hands to shield it from the outside world. Much sooner than I can even fathom, I'll have to watch this baby walk away from me at a playground, or at the doors of preschool, or for a school dance, or for college. They are all things I want for my child, of course, but if I love this tiny thing so much already, when we haven't even met, how will I ever be able to let go?
It scares me to death.
It makes me wonder how I could allow myself to do this, make myself so vulnerable? And yesterday, when I read on Chris' blog that you wait 9 months for this baby to come out, to see for yourself that he or she is safe. When really, the only time your baby is really safe is when she is safely esconced in your uterus. That just makes me burst into tears all over again.
I'm not a person that opens herself up to hurt or pain, although I admit that I am rather sensitive. I tend to protect my emotions more often than not, but in this case, I've made this decision that will change my life forever. It will never be about just me or just me and Josh ever again.
And the day I finally give birth to this wee kicking monkey, I'll have to share him or her with everyone else. When I think about it that way, the first 6 months seem so easy, because at least this baby will rely on Josh and I for everything, and I can shelter him or her in my arms. But as soon as he crawls, or walks, or runs, I'll have to learn to start letting go.
But how do you do it? Also, how do you stop crying long enough to do it?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
registry hell
Since I don't like to upset the delicate balance we've crafted of "doing nothingness for the baby", and because I like to uphold my jet-setting image (yeah, right), I'm off to my home town of San Francisco for the weekend. My parents are meeting me at the airport, and I expect 4 days of pure pampering and holding court over the belly. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but I'd like to not clean my house, or take care of the dogs, or worry about baby lists and furniture hunting and scheduling. I'd also like to hit some cute baby stores while we're there ; )
My title might be a tad bit dramatic, but that is what it feels like these days. I've been holding off on registering or purchasing anything until we returned from vacation, and now, of course, we're back and I'm starting to panic at the lack of productivity. Last weekend was a whirlwind of activity, between visiting furniture stores, arguing over necessary baby items and starting registries online, and planning out the baby's closet at the Container Store. I'm not sure why I'm shocked when I find myself exhausted at the end of the day.
My blogging buddies, I need your help. I have read multiple guides to baby necessities, and I am overwhelmed. I've decided to compile a list, in the hopes that you will share your advice on what you couldn't live without, and what was a total waste of money. Some of the things on my list aren't really necessities, but things I'd just like to have so just ignore some of those. Help!
Baby-to-be List
Crib
Crib mattress (is foam fine?)
Bassinet
Dresser (I can't find a changing table that fits in the room!)
Rocker with ottoman
Crib bumper
Quilt
Crib skirt
Fitted sheet (4-5?)
Waterproof mattress pad fitted (2?)
Waterproof mattress pad flat (2?)
Blankets (for stroller or chair or floor- how many? 2? Do I need to register or will people just get them?)
Rug
Car seat
2 Bases for car seat
Stroller
Umbrella stroller
Bouncy seat
Swing
Exersaucer
Curtains
Curtain rods
Table lamp
Diaper bag
Towels (4?)
Changing pad (for floor or bed or chair, since I won't have a changing table)
Boppy
Burp cloths (how many? 20?)
Bundle me car seat cover
Mobile
Diaper caddy (2?)
Baskets (3?)
Sling and Baby Bjorn (sling purchased in Amsterdam- at least I can carry the baby around!)
Playpen/Pack and play
Playmat for floor
Baby monitor (does anyone have the video ones? Are they a waste?)
Safety gates
Thermometer
First aid kit
Diaper pail (which one?)
Snowsuit (for my December baby!)
Breast pump
Breast pads/shields (what else?)
Bottles (what brands? How many if I'm planning on breastfeeding?)
High chair
Bath tub (can I wash baby in the sink?)
Bath accessories (lotion, soap, etc.)
And??? I feel like this list is so long already, but something tells me that I don't have everything. What about things that I think are unnecessary, like wipe warmers and bottle sterilizers? Should I register for outfits? Or wait to receive them?
The only decision I have made is on the bedding, thank goodness, or you'd probably have a hysterical Halloweenlover on your hands. We decided to go with a unisex bedding, since I couldn't bring myself to pick both a boy and a girl bedding, so this is what we chose. I love it! I wish my room could be decorated in this pattern!
I welcome any and all advice, so please share! But be gentle! I am a hormonal pregnant woman! In the meantime, I wish you all happy Labor days! And I hope you labor very little during this time!
My title might be a tad bit dramatic, but that is what it feels like these days. I've been holding off on registering or purchasing anything until we returned from vacation, and now, of course, we're back and I'm starting to panic at the lack of productivity. Last weekend was a whirlwind of activity, between visiting furniture stores, arguing over necessary baby items and starting registries online, and planning out the baby's closet at the Container Store. I'm not sure why I'm shocked when I find myself exhausted at the end of the day.
My blogging buddies, I need your help. I have read multiple guides to baby necessities, and I am overwhelmed. I've decided to compile a list, in the hopes that you will share your advice on what you couldn't live without, and what was a total waste of money. Some of the things on my list aren't really necessities, but things I'd just like to have so just ignore some of those. Help!
Baby-to-be List
Crib
Crib mattress (is foam fine?)
Bassinet
Dresser (I can't find a changing table that fits in the room!)
Rocker with ottoman
Crib bumper
Quilt
Crib skirt
Fitted sheet (4-5?)
Waterproof mattress pad fitted (2?)
Waterproof mattress pad flat (2?)
Blankets (for stroller or chair or floor- how many? 2? Do I need to register or will people just get them?)
Rug
Car seat
2 Bases for car seat
Stroller
Umbrella stroller
Bouncy seat
Swing
Exersaucer
Curtains
Curtain rods
Table lamp
Diaper bag
Towels (4?)
Changing pad (for floor or bed or chair, since I won't have a changing table)
Boppy
Burp cloths (how many? 20?)
Bundle me car seat cover
Mobile
Diaper caddy (2?)
Baskets (3?)
Sling and Baby Bjorn (sling purchased in Amsterdam- at least I can carry the baby around!)
Playpen/Pack and play
Playmat for floor
Baby monitor (does anyone have the video ones? Are they a waste?)
Safety gates
Thermometer
First aid kit
Diaper pail (which one?)
Snowsuit (for my December baby!)
Breast pump
Breast pads/shields (what else?)
Bottles (what brands? How many if I'm planning on breastfeeding?)
High chair
Bath tub (can I wash baby in the sink?)
Bath accessories (lotion, soap, etc.)
And??? I feel like this list is so long already, but something tells me that I don't have everything. What about things that I think are unnecessary, like wipe warmers and bottle sterilizers? Should I register for outfits? Or wait to receive them?
The only decision I have made is on the bedding, thank goodness, or you'd probably have a hysterical Halloweenlover on your hands. We decided to go with a unisex bedding, since I couldn't bring myself to pick both a boy and a girl bedding, so this is what we chose. I love it! I wish my room could be decorated in this pattern!
I welcome any and all advice, so please share! But be gentle! I am a hormonal pregnant woman! In the meantime, I wish you all happy Labor days! And I hope you labor very little during this time!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
brussels and chocolate
We only planned one day in Brussels, and that day happened to be the day we arrived. In retrospect, perhaps that wasn't the best idea. After our 3 hour advance arrival at the airport due to increased security measures, and then the flight to Newark and the 3 hour wait until our flight to Brussels, and then the 6+ hour flight to Brussels, overnight, plus the jet lag, I was a leeeetle bit tired. Maybe even a little bit grumpy, although I won't admit to that.
We did lots of walking in Brussels, ate lots of chocolate, sampled some frites, and enjoyed the sights. Thankfully, Brussels wasn't too big and didn't have an overload of sights for us to visit, so we were able to see everything we wanted to see without too much trouble. It was, however, very charming and pretty. We started at our hotel, took the subway to the center of town, and stopped at the center, where the Town Hall was surrounded by restaurants, cafes and museums. It so happened that it was also a yearly festival where the square is decorated with thousands of flowers.
It made for lots of crowds too, so I spent a good bit of time maneuvering my way around while protecting the belly against wayward strollers and elbows.
There were some interesting street vendors also, creating a variety of smells that assaulted a pregnant woman's nostrils.
Look at how they decorate the mailboxes and sign posts! These flowers were so pretty! I wished we could have brought them back with us.
We rested quite a bit in Brussels, and stopped for chocolates and coffee (decaf, of course) and beer for Josh. He was very impressed with the array of beers available at every cafe. He isn't a big drinker, but sipping a leisurely brew on a hot summer day while people watching is certainly his idea of a good time.
Mmmmm, chocolate.
Sorry the picture isn't clear, but this was a smuggled photo since the woman was watching customers like a hawk. I pretended to be adjusting the camera around my neck while I shot this photo.
Of course, we couldn't miss the most famous statue in Brussels- Mannekin Pis. Surprisingly, he is quite small for a boy that attracts such a huge crowd! Isn't he a cutie, though?
Our visit wouldn't have been complete without some of Brussels most famous treats.
Mussels in Brussels, and frites! And Beer! What else?
Unfortunately, mussels were another one of those smells that assaulted the pregnant woman's nostrils, so I opted not to partake. Perhaps next time!
We did lots of walking in Brussels, ate lots of chocolate, sampled some frites, and enjoyed the sights. Thankfully, Brussels wasn't too big and didn't have an overload of sights for us to visit, so we were able to see everything we wanted to see without too much trouble. It was, however, very charming and pretty. We started at our hotel, took the subway to the center of town, and stopped at the center, where the Town Hall was surrounded by restaurants, cafes and museums. It so happened that it was also a yearly festival where the square is decorated with thousands of flowers.
It made for lots of crowds too, so I spent a good bit of time maneuvering my way around while protecting the belly against wayward strollers and elbows.
There were some interesting street vendors also, creating a variety of smells that assaulted a pregnant woman's nostrils.
Look at how they decorate the mailboxes and sign posts! These flowers were so pretty! I wished we could have brought them back with us.
We rested quite a bit in Brussels, and stopped for chocolates and coffee (decaf, of course) and beer for Josh. He was very impressed with the array of beers available at every cafe. He isn't a big drinker, but sipping a leisurely brew on a hot summer day while people watching is certainly his idea of a good time.
Mmmmm, chocolate.
Sorry the picture isn't clear, but this was a smuggled photo since the woman was watching customers like a hawk. I pretended to be adjusting the camera around my neck while I shot this photo.
Of course, we couldn't miss the most famous statue in Brussels- Mannekin Pis. Surprisingly, he is quite small for a boy that attracts such a huge crowd! Isn't he a cutie, though?
Our visit wouldn't have been complete without some of Brussels most famous treats.
Mussels in Brussels, and frites! And Beer! What else?
Unfortunately, mussels were another one of those smells that assaulted the pregnant woman's nostrils, so I opted not to partake. Perhaps next time!
Monday, August 28, 2006
buddha
I've hit that stage in pregnancy.
That glorious wonderful stage where you feel fantastic, with loads of energy, and a belly just big enough to be cute, but not big enough to be cumbersome. I feel the baby moving all the time these days, kicking and rolling and making himself or herself known. He or she seems to respond to the sounds outside, like the dog's squeaky toy, or Josh pressing his mouth against my belly button every morning and sounding a fake wake-up bugle alarm, as if the baby were in the Army. I'll bet he or she just loves that.
I'm aware every day of this wonderful event that is happening to us. I get weekly emails reminding me of the baby's stages of growth and development, as well as notes on what I might be feeling. Each Monday morning, when I open my email, these notes remind me of the miraculous thing that is happening to the wee monkey, who we call Buddha most of the time, after my growing Buddha belly.
I told Josh the other day that I never want this to end. This newness, this feeling of excitement, the knowledge that we'll never do this for the first time again. I don't doubt that the love and excitement and anticipation are the same with subsequent pregnancies, but this exhilaration tinged with fear? Does it ever happen again? Every day feels like an adventure.
And all of this doesn't even take into account the reactions of friends, family and colleagues around me! People seem to love pregnant women! My colleagues are incredibly helpful and complimentary, people stop me in the halls to inquire as to how I'm feeling. They are all just so nice, I'm definitely sure I don't want this part of it to end!
People keep telling me that one day I'll be so uncomfortable and tired that I'll start wishing for the pregnancy to be over, and I do hope I reach that stage (although hopefully not until after December 25th). I'm anxious to meet this baby, but at the same time I'm so enjoying how great I feel and how fabulous having the baby inside is, that I hate for it to end.
This pregnancy is flying by, I want to savor every moment! Grateful and happy is my new motto!
That glorious wonderful stage where you feel fantastic, with loads of energy, and a belly just big enough to be cute, but not big enough to be cumbersome. I feel the baby moving all the time these days, kicking and rolling and making himself or herself known. He or she seems to respond to the sounds outside, like the dog's squeaky toy, or Josh pressing his mouth against my belly button every morning and sounding a fake wake-up bugle alarm, as if the baby were in the Army. I'll bet he or she just loves that.
I'm aware every day of this wonderful event that is happening to us. I get weekly emails reminding me of the baby's stages of growth and development, as well as notes on what I might be feeling. Each Monday morning, when I open my email, these notes remind me of the miraculous thing that is happening to the wee monkey, who we call Buddha most of the time, after my growing Buddha belly.
I told Josh the other day that I never want this to end. This newness, this feeling of excitement, the knowledge that we'll never do this for the first time again. I don't doubt that the love and excitement and anticipation are the same with subsequent pregnancies, but this exhilaration tinged with fear? Does it ever happen again? Every day feels like an adventure.
And all of this doesn't even take into account the reactions of friends, family and colleagues around me! People seem to love pregnant women! My colleagues are incredibly helpful and complimentary, people stop me in the halls to inquire as to how I'm feeling. They are all just so nice, I'm definitely sure I don't want this part of it to end!
People keep telling me that one day I'll be so uncomfortable and tired that I'll start wishing for the pregnancy to be over, and I do hope I reach that stage (although hopefully not until after December 25th). I'm anxious to meet this baby, but at the same time I'm so enjoying how great I feel and how fabulous having the baby inside is, that I hate for it to end.
This pregnancy is flying by, I want to savor every moment! Grateful and happy is my new motto!
Friday, August 25, 2006
four happy years
Four years ago, on a Sunday afternoon, I married the love of my life.
It had rained profusely for several days preceding, and everyone around us was a bit nervous at the thought of our outdoor ceremony and reception being rained out. I, however, refused to consider the possibility, and stopped watching the weather reports. I was confident that my garden wedding would be a reality, and I even made everyone rehearse in the drizzle on the night before.
As I opened my eyes on Sunday morning, I stood on the bed in the hotel suite I was sharing with my bridesmaids and mother, and flung the curtains open to reveal a bright blue sky, with lazy puffy clouds floating across in the distance. A cheer rose up behind me, and we jumped around in joy for a few minutes before going on to begin the process of getting ready.
That day was the happiest of my life.
I walked down the aisle to a song by Sarah Brightman, called "There's No One Like You." A young woman sang the words into the crowd as I walked in with my parents.
Happy Anniversary Mimoso! I hope we have at least one hundred times as many wonderful years ahead of us, and then some!
It had rained profusely for several days preceding, and everyone around us was a bit nervous at the thought of our outdoor ceremony and reception being rained out. I, however, refused to consider the possibility, and stopped watching the weather reports. I was confident that my garden wedding would be a reality, and I even made everyone rehearse in the drizzle on the night before.
As I opened my eyes on Sunday morning, I stood on the bed in the hotel suite I was sharing with my bridesmaids and mother, and flung the curtains open to reveal a bright blue sky, with lazy puffy clouds floating across in the distance. A cheer rose up behind me, and we jumped around in joy for a few minutes before going on to begin the process of getting ready.
That day was the happiest of my life.
I walked down the aisle to a song by Sarah Brightman, called "There's No One Like You." A young woman sang the words into the crowd as I walked in with my parents.
When Josh stomped down on the glass and dipped me into a romantic kiss under the chuppah, I thought I couldn't love him more. But four years later, as I sit here with my growing belly and the wee monkey doing flips within, I know how wrong I was. He was my best friend then, but he is so much more now.In your eyes are my secrets that I've never shown you
In my heart I feel I've always known you
In your arms there's a comfort that I never knew
You're what I've been waiting for, there's no one like you
Sure as the sunrise, pure as a prayer
You fashioned hope right out of thin air
Ev'ry dream I abandoned, seems it could come true
I believe in miracles, there's no one like youInnocent as a newborn in a world so fright'ning
It's as if my world's been struck by lightning
Ev'ry dream I abandoned, seems it could come true
I believe in miracles, there's no one like you
Happy Anniversary Mimoso! I hope we have at least one hundred times as many wonderful years ahead of us, and then some!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
we're back!
Safe and sound! Everyone survived and had a fabulous time, including the wee monkey inside my belly.
I now feel confident providing a list of suggested advice for other pregnant women thinking about taking a trip, especially one that will require long flights and lots of walking at the destination. I wish someone had told me this before we left.
1. Forget the cute shoes. Seriously, just forget them. Within 2 hours of arrival your feet will hurt more than they've ever hurt before, and cute shoes will just make it worse. Trust me on this one.
2. Bring your most comfortable shoes, even if they are hideous. And bring more than one pair of ugly shoes, because if you try to wear just the one pair over consecutive days, your feet will start to hurt in certain specific spots that you never knew existed (my pinky toe is still a little numb).
3. Pack layering clothes. Your thermostat is a bit out of whack these days and can swing wildly from freezing to sweat running down your legs in the span of two minutes. It isn't pleasant.
4. Bring prunes, or stop at a grocery store and pick up something else resembling prunes. This can greatly impede your ability to walk around, and when I say GREATLY IMPEDE, I mean greatly. 'Nuff said.
5. Protect your belly when on a bus or subway or in crowds. Maybe some of you feel a natural urge to cover your belly with your hands in crowds, but I didn't. And then when someone accidentally falls into you on the subway and punches your belly, you won't dissolve into uncontrollable heaving sobs because they might have hurt your bayyyyybeeeeee.
6. Anticipate some crazy hormonal changes because of jet lag and exhaustion. Expect to have some trouble sleeping. Expect to start crying over something silly, in public, when you least expect it.
7. Make intelligent decisions about where to take your pregnant hormonal self. Perhaps visiting the Anne Frank House is not the best idea when you are incredibly sensitive. You should also avoid that exhibit at the Dutch Resistance Museum showing the babies abandoned in basements and churches and empty buildings by Jewish families sent to concentration camps, in the hopes that someone would save their children. Impending motherhood is not the best time for you to read and see these images. But if you do, bring buttloads of kleenex, and wear your most obviously pregnant shirt so that people are sympathetic.
8. Rest at every opportunity, especially when your body tells you it is tired. This may sometimes be less than an hour since your last rest stop, but who cares? Do it anyway. Take advantage of these stops to have a decaf latte, or a hot chocolate, or that delicious cheesy melted sandwich that guy is having over there, whatever it is. I'm still having dreams about my pain au chocolate from Brussels and my croque madame from Amsterdam. Mmmm.
9. Use every bathroom you find, even when you don't think you have to go. Go twice if you can, because if not, you'll get half a block down the street and have to pee. You might still get half a block down the street and discover you have to pee, but then your partner won't roll his or her eyes nearly as much.
10. Take tons of pictures, even if you feel huge in all of them! You'll love seeing your belly in pictures later, and you'll probably love how relaxed you looked before the baby was actually born.
11. Ignore random advice of strangers, including that person who sprinted across the restaurant to tell you not to eat that cheese.
12. Sleep a lot and shop a lot!
13. ENJOY YOUR BABYMOON! Even when you're tired and sore and your feet hurt and you have to pee and you're hormonal and cranky. You are still having a wonderful time, and you'll still look back on it fondly and wish you were back there!
I now feel confident providing a list of suggested advice for other pregnant women thinking about taking a trip, especially one that will require long flights and lots of walking at the destination. I wish someone had told me this before we left.
1. Forget the cute shoes. Seriously, just forget them. Within 2 hours of arrival your feet will hurt more than they've ever hurt before, and cute shoes will just make it worse. Trust me on this one.
2. Bring your most comfortable shoes, even if they are hideous. And bring more than one pair of ugly shoes, because if you try to wear just the one pair over consecutive days, your feet will start to hurt in certain specific spots that you never knew existed (my pinky toe is still a little numb).
3. Pack layering clothes. Your thermostat is a bit out of whack these days and can swing wildly from freezing to sweat running down your legs in the span of two minutes. It isn't pleasant.
4. Bring prunes, or stop at a grocery store and pick up something else resembling prunes. This can greatly impede your ability to walk around, and when I say GREATLY IMPEDE, I mean greatly. 'Nuff said.
5. Protect your belly when on a bus or subway or in crowds. Maybe some of you feel a natural urge to cover your belly with your hands in crowds, but I didn't. And then when someone accidentally falls into you on the subway and punches your belly, you won't dissolve into uncontrollable heaving sobs because they might have hurt your bayyyyybeeeeee.
6. Anticipate some crazy hormonal changes because of jet lag and exhaustion. Expect to have some trouble sleeping. Expect to start crying over something silly, in public, when you least expect it.
7. Make intelligent decisions about where to take your pregnant hormonal self. Perhaps visiting the Anne Frank House is not the best idea when you are incredibly sensitive. You should also avoid that exhibit at the Dutch Resistance Museum showing the babies abandoned in basements and churches and empty buildings by Jewish families sent to concentration camps, in the hopes that someone would save their children. Impending motherhood is not the best time for you to read and see these images. But if you do, bring buttloads of kleenex, and wear your most obviously pregnant shirt so that people are sympathetic.
8. Rest at every opportunity, especially when your body tells you it is tired. This may sometimes be less than an hour since your last rest stop, but who cares? Do it anyway. Take advantage of these stops to have a decaf latte, or a hot chocolate, or that delicious cheesy melted sandwich that guy is having over there, whatever it is. I'm still having dreams about my pain au chocolate from Brussels and my croque madame from Amsterdam. Mmmm.
9. Use every bathroom you find, even when you don't think you have to go. Go twice if you can, because if not, you'll get half a block down the street and have to pee. You might still get half a block down the street and discover you have to pee, but then your partner won't roll his or her eyes nearly as much.
10. Take tons of pictures, even if you feel huge in all of them! You'll love seeing your belly in pictures later, and you'll probably love how relaxed you looked before the baby was actually born.
11. Ignore random advice of strangers, including that person who sprinted across the restaurant to tell you not to eat that cheese.
12. Sleep a lot and shop a lot!
13. ENJOY YOUR BABYMOON! Even when you're tired and sore and your feet hurt and you have to pee and you're hormonal and cranky. You are still having a wonderful time, and you'll still look back on it fondly and wish you were back there!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
coming out of where?
Last night we had our first childbirth class. Now, I really felt that 20 weeks was a bit early for anyone to be discussing with me the notion that someone was coming out of somewhere, since I still have 20 weeks (minus 2 days) to go. But when I spoke to my doctor, I was informed that actually I am behind on scheduling my classes and that many of them might be filled up. Ahem.
Now, before I tell you about how the class went, I'd like to discuss this phenomenon for a second.
Before I was 12 weeks pregnant, I mentioned how certain people would caution me not to get attached to the idea of this pregnancy. Some people went so far as to tell me that they never would have told anyone before 12 weeks and were surprised that we would. We even had some decidedly mixed reactions from friends who were shocked that we would reveal our news at 10 or 11 weeks, even though my own DOCTOR assured me that after my 10 week visit, I had a less then 1% chance of miscarrying.
Don't get me wrong, I still spent those weeks terrified at all of the possibilities of miscarrying. I still worry, although measurably less, and I often give myself pep talks telling myself to stop focusing on the worst. After my 7 week ultrasound, when we saw that beautiful heartbeat and the little worm looking baby curled up, I told myself to stop with all the negatives. That little embryo was trying its best, and I decided that thinking dooms-day scenarios would not help, so I'd work to make its little environment as pleasant as it could be. But still, for the weeks before I hit 12 or 13 weeks, I was told by everyone not to get attached, not to tell anyone, not to get my hopes up.
Then I hit the magical 13th week, and all of a sudden, I was behind on everything. At which hospital was I delivering? Who was my pediatrician? What about childbirth classes? Did I have a birth plan? Was I finding out the sex? Had I registered? Was I breastfeeding or bottle-feeding? What would I do about work? It was overwhelming and infuriating! As of last week, I had no pregnancy to speak of, but a mere week later, I was a negligent pregnant woman who had thought of nothing.
So of course, now I'm 20 weeks and behind on many things, most notably my childbirth classes, and since I'd like to have this child exit my body at some point, I scrambled to find one that would work. The class thing is compounded by a couple of problems, (1) We are on our Babymoon next week, (2) I work long hours, (3) Josh has classes on Monday and Wednesday nights until December, and (4) we wanted to take Hypnobirthing. After a few days of tearing my hair out and 20 phone calls later, I finally found a Hypnobirthing instructor that would allow us to take the first class last night, and then finish up the other 3 in September when it fit with Josh's class schedule.
Anyway, last night we all crowded around in a circle, prepared to hear about the wonders of Hypnobirthing and how labor wasn't going to hurt at all. Right? RIGHT? I plan on having no pain during my labor, and if you try to tell me differently, I'll plug my ears and sing "la la la la la."
Instead, the first thing they showed was that video. You know which video I'm talking about. The one where they did a full frontal shot of several different women pushing a baby out of their nether regions, and even though I've seen it before, even in person, I still felt some measure of queasiness and lightheadedness as I looked around to see if anyone else looked a little green. Josh squeezed my leg as the baby slid out, looking all slimy and brand-new, and I wondered about his mental state. At least this wasn't new to me, but he must have been a little freaked at the imagery of his wife's body stretching to accommodate such an exit. As we climbed into bed last night, though, he turned to me with tenderness in his eyes, and a soft voice and said, "wasn't that the most beautiful thing ever? Can you believe we'll be having a baby? Can you believe our baby might come into the world like that?" All the while, I'm looking at him in horror and wondering if we saw the same video.
Following the video, we had lots of talking, questions, and then some relaxation and meditation exercises. So I settled down on the floor, got comfortable, and she started explaining how to relax your body, starting at the top of your head. I fell asleep when we got to the forehead. And no, I am not joking. She said to relax the top of your head, your ears, your eyes, your forehead, zzzzzzzzzzz. I don't remember anything else about the 40 minute exercise. Josh, on the other hand, fell asleep when she got to the legs, so we make a fabulous pair. We are clearly going to be wonderful at the Hypnobirthing, no?
Our assignment is to read our Hypnobirthing book and listen to our relaxation exercise every single day for 20 minutes. I'm psyched, because clearly this means that I'll be falling asleep very easily, based on this prior experience. Maybe I'll sleep through labor! You know, what with the no pain and all that. Perhaps that will be the positive imagery I will focus on, taking a wonderful nap and waking up ready to push. It's totally doable, don't you think?
Now, before I tell you about how the class went, I'd like to discuss this phenomenon for a second.
Before I was 12 weeks pregnant, I mentioned how certain people would caution me not to get attached to the idea of this pregnancy. Some people went so far as to tell me that they never would have told anyone before 12 weeks and were surprised that we would. We even had some decidedly mixed reactions from friends who were shocked that we would reveal our news at 10 or 11 weeks, even though my own DOCTOR assured me that after my 10 week visit, I had a less then 1% chance of miscarrying.
Don't get me wrong, I still spent those weeks terrified at all of the possibilities of miscarrying. I still worry, although measurably less, and I often give myself pep talks telling myself to stop focusing on the worst. After my 7 week ultrasound, when we saw that beautiful heartbeat and the little worm looking baby curled up, I told myself to stop with all the negatives. That little embryo was trying its best, and I decided that thinking dooms-day scenarios would not help, so I'd work to make its little environment as pleasant as it could be. But still, for the weeks before I hit 12 or 13 weeks, I was told by everyone not to get attached, not to tell anyone, not to get my hopes up.
Then I hit the magical 13th week, and all of a sudden, I was behind on everything. At which hospital was I delivering? Who was my pediatrician? What about childbirth classes? Did I have a birth plan? Was I finding out the sex? Had I registered? Was I breastfeeding or bottle-feeding? What would I do about work? It was overwhelming and infuriating! As of last week, I had no pregnancy to speak of, but a mere week later, I was a negligent pregnant woman who had thought of nothing.
So of course, now I'm 20 weeks and behind on many things, most notably my childbirth classes, and since I'd like to have this child exit my body at some point, I scrambled to find one that would work. The class thing is compounded by a couple of problems, (1) We are on our Babymoon next week, (2) I work long hours, (3) Josh has classes on Monday and Wednesday nights until December, and (4) we wanted to take Hypnobirthing. After a few days of tearing my hair out and 20 phone calls later, I finally found a Hypnobirthing instructor that would allow us to take the first class last night, and then finish up the other 3 in September when it fit with Josh's class schedule.
Anyway, last night we all crowded around in a circle, prepared to hear about the wonders of Hypnobirthing and how labor wasn't going to hurt at all. Right? RIGHT? I plan on having no pain during my labor, and if you try to tell me differently, I'll plug my ears and sing "la la la la la."
Instead, the first thing they showed was that video. You know which video I'm talking about. The one where they did a full frontal shot of several different women pushing a baby out of their nether regions, and even though I've seen it before, even in person, I still felt some measure of queasiness and lightheadedness as I looked around to see if anyone else looked a little green. Josh squeezed my leg as the baby slid out, looking all slimy and brand-new, and I wondered about his mental state. At least this wasn't new to me, but he must have been a little freaked at the imagery of his wife's body stretching to accommodate such an exit. As we climbed into bed last night, though, he turned to me with tenderness in his eyes, and a soft voice and said, "wasn't that the most beautiful thing ever? Can you believe we'll be having a baby? Can you believe our baby might come into the world like that?" All the while, I'm looking at him in horror and wondering if we saw the same video.
Following the video, we had lots of talking, questions, and then some relaxation and meditation exercises. So I settled down on the floor, got comfortable, and she started explaining how to relax your body, starting at the top of your head. I fell asleep when we got to the forehead. And no, I am not joking. She said to relax the top of your head, your ears, your eyes, your forehead, zzzzzzzzzzz. I don't remember anything else about the 40 minute exercise. Josh, on the other hand, fell asleep when she got to the legs, so we make a fabulous pair. We are clearly going to be wonderful at the Hypnobirthing, no?
Our assignment is to read our Hypnobirthing book and listen to our relaxation exercise every single day for 20 minutes. I'm psyched, because clearly this means that I'll be falling asleep very easily, based on this prior experience. Maybe I'll sleep through labor! You know, what with the no pain and all that. Perhaps that will be the positive imagery I will focus on, taking a wonderful nap and waking up ready to push. It's totally doable, don't you think?
Monday, August 07, 2006
20 weeks
Dear Baby-to-Be,
Today marks the beginning of my 20th week of pregnancy. According to the wacky calendar of our doctor and all my books, that also means that this is the halfway point for this pregnancy. We are halfway there to meeting you, and this fills me with immeasurable happiness. I try to imagine what it will be like to see you for the first time, to hold you in my arms, to take you home with us, and my imagination fails me. I have no doubt that it will exceed my wildest expectations.
These days you are making yourself felt regularly. I can often distinguish a kick or punch from a roll, and I rest my hands on my belly to see what you might be doing in there. I have always dreamt of being pregnant, and feeling your kicks has been more magical than I ever dreamed. I'm surprised more women don't talk about it, because the feeling is amazing. Maybe we all like to keep it our own little secret, our private connection with the future loves of our lives.
My belly grows daily as well. When I was first pregnant, I anxiously awaited the moment when a stranger might be able to obviously tell that this was a baby belly. I'm just reaching that point, and now I find myself looking down at my growing bump with a good measure of fear, wondering just how big it will actually get. Bigger than I imagine, I'm sure. Probably even bigger than I'd like!
I've been so excited to start preparing for your arrival, I made myself promise that I wouldn't do anything until I reached 20 weeks. I picked that date in my mind, thinking that I'd have lots of time over the subsequent 20 weeks to get everything ready for you, and it has been a test of willpower to stick to my plan. I'm dying to have your room ready, to start picking out blankets and strollers and bedding and more. Now that I'm here, the task seems daunting, but I remind myself that the most important thing I can do for you is already being done. The rest will get finished sometime.
These first 20 weeks have flown by, and I'm sure the next 20 will go by in the blink of an eye. Years from now, I'll have a hard time remembering what it was like to have you inside of me, so I work to cherish as much as I can. Your father and I can't help but think about your arrival, your personality, your future. We talk about you all the time, we can't resist it.
We can't wait to meet you, my sweet baby. We're in love with you already.
Love,
Mama
Friday, August 04, 2006
babymoon
At the end of next week, Josh and I leave for our final vacation before this baby is born (you can't see me, but I just spit and knocked on wood). I'll be visiting my parents in San Francisco for Labor Day, and hopefully we'll be doing an overnight leaf-peeping tour in New England in October, but as far as real vacations go, this'll be it. I was in charge of planning our escape, and I thought long and hard about what I'd want when I was 21 weeks pregnant.
Beach or touring?
Lazy or active?
Cold or warm?
Josh has been harassing me to take him to visit my family in Argentina, but it is the middle of winter right now in South America, and our Boston summers are so short that I couldn't fathom having to pull out jackets and pants in August. Our last vacation was a beach one, and it was a fantastic time, but I've been craving some real sightseeing and touring. So I started narrowing down on location.
I had important criteria to satisfy also. We needed first class medical care, just in case. I needed air conditioning and safety. I wanted an area small enough to be visited in a week by a pregnant woman that can't walk that fast. Oh, and I wanted to be able to shop. A few visits to websites, a few discussions with Josh later, we settled on Belgium and the Netherlands.
I didn't tell Josh this until after he'd agreed, but it just so happens that Amsterdam is the baby capital of the world. Tons of baby designers are located there, and it also just so happens that I'm in the market for baby stuff. Shocker, I know!
After some research, I planned our itinerary as follows:
Day 1: Fly into Brussels, spend the day exploring the city if the red-eye flight hasn't made me keel over with exhaustion
Day 2: Explore Brussels in the morning, move to Bruges for the next two nights (via train)
Day 3: Bruges (and chocolate! Lots and lots of chocolate!)
Day 4: Bruges (and french fries! And Belgian waffles!) Leave in the afternoon for Amsterdam (via train)
Day 5: Amsterdam (does Amsterdam have chocolate? How about french fries? They must have something, right?) Visit museums, take canal tours, look longingly at the people on bicycles because your husband has forbidden your pregnant self from riding one.
Day 6: Amsterdam and more sightseeing. I know you can't wait to see pictures of my pregnant belly in the red light district, right?
Day 7: Amsterdam and shopping! My sources confirm that Amsterdam has some of the best strollers in the world, and if I can find one that opens and closes easily, doesn't weigh too much, and complies with my other crazy requirements, I'm hoping that one of my return luggage will be a stroller!
Day 8: Final exploration of Amsterdam, fly back to Boston in the afternoon. Sob.
Day 9: Spend day in bed crying because you don't want to go back to work tomorrow, and this is your last vacation day until your maternity leave starts in 4 and a half months. Sob again.
I'm trying not to focus too much on Day 9.
I've been looking forward to this trip for months, and I'm itching to jump on that plane, even though it is still a week away. I suspect that we'll look longingly on this last adventure away, come December 25th. I also suspect we'd never want to go back in time once this baby arrives, but still, the memories of freedom will be nice.
My parents are watching our pooches at our house, so this will be real freedom, unlike our trip to St. Croix when we had our sidekicks along for the ride. So any suggestions? Favorite spots? Recommendations? We'll be doing the typical walking tours, visiting Rembrandt's museum, Anne Frank's house, marketplace visits, and whatever else our guide book says is a must-see. But if you've been there or have heard fantastic things- please please please tell me! I'm sure I'll be bringing back some Belgian chocolate, and if you can wrestle it away from the hands of a pregnant lady, I'll even share!
Beach or touring?
Lazy or active?
Cold or warm?
Josh has been harassing me to take him to visit my family in Argentina, but it is the middle of winter right now in South America, and our Boston summers are so short that I couldn't fathom having to pull out jackets and pants in August. Our last vacation was a beach one, and it was a fantastic time, but I've been craving some real sightseeing and touring. So I started narrowing down on location.
I had important criteria to satisfy also. We needed first class medical care, just in case. I needed air conditioning and safety. I wanted an area small enough to be visited in a week by a pregnant woman that can't walk that fast. Oh, and I wanted to be able to shop. A few visits to websites, a few discussions with Josh later, we settled on Belgium and the Netherlands.
I didn't tell Josh this until after he'd agreed, but it just so happens that Amsterdam is the baby capital of the world. Tons of baby designers are located there, and it also just so happens that I'm in the market for baby stuff. Shocker, I know!
After some research, I planned our itinerary as follows:
Day 1: Fly into Brussels, spend the day exploring the city if the red-eye flight hasn't made me keel over with exhaustion
Day 2: Explore Brussels in the morning, move to Bruges for the next two nights (via train)
Day 3: Bruges (and chocolate! Lots and lots of chocolate!)
Day 4: Bruges (and french fries! And Belgian waffles!) Leave in the afternoon for Amsterdam (via train)
Day 5: Amsterdam (does Amsterdam have chocolate? How about french fries? They must have something, right?) Visit museums, take canal tours, look longingly at the people on bicycles because your husband has forbidden your pregnant self from riding one.
Day 6: Amsterdam and more sightseeing. I know you can't wait to see pictures of my pregnant belly in the red light district, right?
Day 7: Amsterdam and shopping! My sources confirm that Amsterdam has some of the best strollers in the world, and if I can find one that opens and closes easily, doesn't weigh too much, and complies with my other crazy requirements, I'm hoping that one of my return luggage will be a stroller!
Day 8: Final exploration of Amsterdam, fly back to Boston in the afternoon. Sob.
Day 9: Spend day in bed crying because you don't want to go back to work tomorrow, and this is your last vacation day until your maternity leave starts in 4 and a half months. Sob again.
I'm trying not to focus too much on Day 9.
I've been looking forward to this trip for months, and I'm itching to jump on that plane, even though it is still a week away. I suspect that we'll look longingly on this last adventure away, come December 25th. I also suspect we'd never want to go back in time once this baby arrives, but still, the memories of freedom will be nice.
My parents are watching our pooches at our house, so this will be real freedom, unlike our trip to St. Croix when we had our sidekicks along for the ride. So any suggestions? Favorite spots? Recommendations? We'll be doing the typical walking tours, visiting Rembrandt's museum, Anne Frank's house, marketplace visits, and whatever else our guide book says is a must-see. But if you've been there or have heard fantastic things- please please please tell me! I'm sure I'll be bringing back some Belgian chocolate, and if you can wrestle it away from the hands of a pregnant lady, I'll even share!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
a future soccer player?
At the ultrasound last week, I mentioned to the ultrasound technician that I'd been feeling the baby move in the last few days. He quickly assured me that what I was feeling was NOT the baby, since the baby was far too small to be felt. He was quick to follow up with a "you'll feel it move in a few weeks, don't worry."
This struck me as odd, because:
(a) I was 18 and a half weeks at the time, not outrageously early from what I've heard,
(b) the feeling is rather unmistakable, and not like anything I've ever felt before, and finally,
(c) if a pregnant woman tells you she feels her baby, you DO NOT tell her that she doesn't!
People seem to describe the feeling as fluttering, but I never felt that. A couple of weeks ago I called my doctor because I was feeling a strange pressure in my lower abdomen. It would come and go, and wasn't necessarily painful, just uncomfortable. I called her because I was worried that perhaps I had a bladder infection, or was having mild contractions. She thought maybe it was my round ligaments stretching or something to do with my uterus growing, but nothing to worry about.
That weekend, the pressure continued, but was followed up with tapping coming from inside, and it was then that I realized that I'd been feeling the baby moving around. What I described as pressure must have been movements that weren't yet strong enough to feel clearly. Since last weekend, the tapping has been getting stronger and stronger.
There is no doubt in my mind that I am feeling this baby moving and shaking. All of last week, I noticed an increase in how much movement I could feel, and particularly, an increase after I ate. On the way to work one morning, I played the music loud and sang along, and felt baby kicking up a storm for the 20 minute drive.
Yesterday, though, were the strongest movements yet. I generally notice the movement most at nighttime when I collapse on the couch, but yesterday I felt baby while both sitting and walking around in my office. A couple of times, I felt hard jabs that I can only imagine are kicks, and even felt my hand move while resting it on my belly.
Armed with this knowledge, I made Josh sit next to me when he got home from the Red Sox game and rest his hand on my belly. I poked my stomach a few times, and settled in to see what happened. I did the play by play at the same time, moving his hand around, telling him when I felt the taps, and all the while he insisted that it wasn't the baby. And then, baby followed through with a beautiful hard kick aimed right at the center of his palm, and his head whipped around in shock. "I felt that!"
So last night marks the first time that baby made his presence known to daddy. I'm sure it won't be the last.
This struck me as odd, because:
(a) I was 18 and a half weeks at the time, not outrageously early from what I've heard,
(b) the feeling is rather unmistakable, and not like anything I've ever felt before, and finally,
(c) if a pregnant woman tells you she feels her baby, you DO NOT tell her that she doesn't!
People seem to describe the feeling as fluttering, but I never felt that. A couple of weeks ago I called my doctor because I was feeling a strange pressure in my lower abdomen. It would come and go, and wasn't necessarily painful, just uncomfortable. I called her because I was worried that perhaps I had a bladder infection, or was having mild contractions. She thought maybe it was my round ligaments stretching or something to do with my uterus growing, but nothing to worry about.
That weekend, the pressure continued, but was followed up with tapping coming from inside, and it was then that I realized that I'd been feeling the baby moving around. What I described as pressure must have been movements that weren't yet strong enough to feel clearly. Since last weekend, the tapping has been getting stronger and stronger.
There is no doubt in my mind that I am feeling this baby moving and shaking. All of last week, I noticed an increase in how much movement I could feel, and particularly, an increase after I ate. On the way to work one morning, I played the music loud and sang along, and felt baby kicking up a storm for the 20 minute drive.
Yesterday, though, were the strongest movements yet. I generally notice the movement most at nighttime when I collapse on the couch, but yesterday I felt baby while both sitting and walking around in my office. A couple of times, I felt hard jabs that I can only imagine are kicks, and even felt my hand move while resting it on my belly.
Armed with this knowledge, I made Josh sit next to me when he got home from the Red Sox game and rest his hand on my belly. I poked my stomach a few times, and settled in to see what happened. I did the play by play at the same time, moving his hand around, telling him when I felt the taps, and all the while he insisted that it wasn't the baby. And then, baby followed through with a beautiful hard kick aimed right at the center of his palm, and his head whipped around in shock. "I felt that!"
So last night marks the first time that baby made his presence known to daddy. I'm sure it won't be the last.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
i'm having a boy (or a girl)
I've been thinking over the past few days about why I've been so adamant about not finding out the sex of this baby. The first reason is that Josh really really really didn't want to find out. If I'd been desperate to know, perhaps I could have persuaded him, but he was certain that he didn't want to know. The truth is, though, that I simply don't care. I can imagine having both a girl and a boy as my first child, and either one seems splendid and wonderful. Either one would be magical and carries with it so many dreams and ideas. I will be equally happy either way.
Mainly, though, I have this weird theory about life that ties into it.
I believe that along the way, we make decisions and choices that change our life's trajectory. Some are within your control, and some are not, but all choices become part of your life story. If you choose to go to law school, whether you practice or not, you'll always have been changed by your time in law school. If you get married or not, you'll be changed by that decision. If you move across the country on a whim, you'll never be the same person again. In the same way, when you make certain choices, you close off doors to a different choice. In some cases, that choice will never be available to you again.
When I said yes to Josh's proposal, I knew that this would be the only time I'd ever be engaged for the first time. When we got married, I knew that this part of my story was set. I hoped and hope (!!) that this is it for us, but regardless, this is our first marriage, our first mistakes, the only time we'd have this innocent giddiness, the first time I'd have my first married fight.
When Josh and I decided to stop using birth control, I realized that my life story was being set in a certain way. I was going to know soon (hopefully) whether I'd ever be pregnant. From then on, I'd never go back to that state of not knowing what it is like to try to get pregnant. There is something in that first excitement of trying, when you think it'll happen right away, when you imagine that it'll be easy and blissful. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't, but from then on, your story will be different.
Right before I took the pregnancy test for this baby, when my boobs were on fire and I'd crawled out of bed before Josh woke up to see if my suspicions were true, I thought to myself that this could be the last time I ever got a positive pregnancy test for the first time. Every other time might be wonderful and special and unbelievable, but it would never be the first time again. When it came up positive, I didn't know much. I didn't know whether I'd carry a baby to term, whether tomorrow I'd get my period, whether any of it would work out, but I knew that I could get pregnant, even briefly.
All of that, all of this, is the beginning of our story to build a family. This will be the only time I carry my first child, no matter what happens. If I'm lucky enough to have a first or second or third child, they will all be equally amazing and different, but it'll never be the first time I do it all. The first ultrasound, the first kicks, the first birth, even the first episodes of morning sickness.
Today, I know that I am having a baby. That part of my story is set. If I find out whether it is a boy or a girl, that part of my story will be set too. From then on, I'd imagine myself with one or the other, and I'd know what my first child will be. Not knowing feels like this delicious secret that will be unveiled to me at the very end. As many people have mentioned, it doesn't matter whether I know today or at the birth, it will still be a surprise. But when so many decisions that we make change our life's trajectory for us, it feels nice not to know.
In reality, our story is already set because this baby IS one or the other. But until I know, I can dream about both. I can imagine my husband's cleft chin on a boy, or my dimples on a girl. Life is so short and goes by so quickly, and it is fun that this part of my story is a secret, even to me.
Mainly, though, I have this weird theory about life that ties into it.
I believe that along the way, we make decisions and choices that change our life's trajectory. Some are within your control, and some are not, but all choices become part of your life story. If you choose to go to law school, whether you practice or not, you'll always have been changed by your time in law school. If you get married or not, you'll be changed by that decision. If you move across the country on a whim, you'll never be the same person again. In the same way, when you make certain choices, you close off doors to a different choice. In some cases, that choice will never be available to you again.
When I said yes to Josh's proposal, I knew that this would be the only time I'd ever be engaged for the first time. When we got married, I knew that this part of my story was set. I hoped and hope (!!) that this is it for us, but regardless, this is our first marriage, our first mistakes, the only time we'd have this innocent giddiness, the first time I'd have my first married fight.
When Josh and I decided to stop using birth control, I realized that my life story was being set in a certain way. I was going to know soon (hopefully) whether I'd ever be pregnant. From then on, I'd never go back to that state of not knowing what it is like to try to get pregnant. There is something in that first excitement of trying, when you think it'll happen right away, when you imagine that it'll be easy and blissful. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't, but from then on, your story will be different.
Right before I took the pregnancy test for this baby, when my boobs were on fire and I'd crawled out of bed before Josh woke up to see if my suspicions were true, I thought to myself that this could be the last time I ever got a positive pregnancy test for the first time. Every other time might be wonderful and special and unbelievable, but it would never be the first time again. When it came up positive, I didn't know much. I didn't know whether I'd carry a baby to term, whether tomorrow I'd get my period, whether any of it would work out, but I knew that I could get pregnant, even briefly.
All of that, all of this, is the beginning of our story to build a family. This will be the only time I carry my first child, no matter what happens. If I'm lucky enough to have a first or second or third child, they will all be equally amazing and different, but it'll never be the first time I do it all. The first ultrasound, the first kicks, the first birth, even the first episodes of morning sickness.
Today, I know that I am having a baby. That part of my story is set. If I find out whether it is a boy or a girl, that part of my story will be set too. From then on, I'd imagine myself with one or the other, and I'd know what my first child will be. Not knowing feels like this delicious secret that will be unveiled to me at the very end. As many people have mentioned, it doesn't matter whether I know today or at the birth, it will still be a surprise. But when so many decisions that we make change our life's trajectory for us, it feels nice not to know.
In reality, our story is already set because this baby IS one or the other. But until I know, I can dream about both. I can imagine my husband's cleft chin on a boy, or my dimples on a girl. Life is so short and goes by so quickly, and it is fun that this part of my story is a secret, even to me.
Monday, July 31, 2006
stupid-er
Today marks the second time I have walked into a Dunkin' Donuts, paid with a $20 bill, and walked out without getting my change.
Twice.
I think this pregnancy is making me stupid-er.
Twice.
I think this pregnancy is making me stupid-er.
Friday, July 28, 2006
happy birthday to me
Yesterday we went in for our 18 week ultrasound. Everything was wonderful and baby was beautifully healthy and kicking like the devil I already know he or she is. We had two technicians exclaim that we had a very active baby in there (while he or she twisted and turned and changed positions 4 times). I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present.
We checked out the brain, the spine, the stomach, the bladder, the umbilical cord, the heart, the fingers and toes and legs and arms, oh my! Everything was perfect. Although I will tell you that this baby, at 18 weeks, 3 days, had a 20 week old head. This did not please me. I'd like to know why he can't have long legs instead? How about a big belly? Why the one body part that allegedly has to exit my nether regions first? Why must that be far larger than normal? The technician kept asking me if I was sure about the dates, and then if anyone else had ever mentioned this before. But I'm quite sure about both the cycle dates and the date of conception, so no question there. Baby just has a big noggin.
In measuring the big noggin, though, the technician (who was actually a doctor), kept measuring and remeasuring the belly and femur to see if the baby was ahead on all counts. The answer is yes, around 19 weeks for the belly and femur, but not the whopping 2 weeks ahead like the head. While doing so, he kept returning to one particular view, coming up from the bottom. In it, I could see the butt, two legs, spread-eagled, and then, umm, something in the middle. Since he was talking throughout his examination, it became crystal clear what direction we were looking from. At one point, I turned to Josh and asked, "Do you see what I see?" and his response? "I choose to ignore what I think I see." So we have no confirmation.
Clearly, I am no ultrasound technician. I have seen only a handful of boy and girl parts in ultrasound pictures from friends, and I can't be sure of what I saw. I also know that at this stage of the game, boy or girl parts are both very exaggerated and still settling into their relative positions. So the truth is, we still don't know and are keeping it that way until this baby decides to pop out and meet us. If anyone asks me, though, I am leaning toward thinking this baby is a boy. That would at least explain why I can only come up with a boy name for this baby, even though I've always thought that girl names are easier!
We'll see in December or January, I suppose.
The very most important thing, though, is that this beautiful little monkey is healthy and growing well so far. We watched him or her yawn, play with his or her face, kick around like crazy, curl up and stretch out and rub his or her eyes. It was amazing and I'm walking around on cloud 9, wondering how I can be so blessed, so very very fortunate.
I have a frame on my desk this morning, with a profile shot of my little tenant, one hand rubbing his eye and the other on his chest. The picture is in an engraved silver frame with the following at the bottom, "there is no such thing as a little moment."**
Indeed.
_____________________________
** Gift from Chatty Cricket.
We checked out the brain, the spine, the stomach, the bladder, the umbilical cord, the heart, the fingers and toes and legs and arms, oh my! Everything was perfect. Although I will tell you that this baby, at 18 weeks, 3 days, had a 20 week old head. This did not please me. I'd like to know why he can't have long legs instead? How about a big belly? Why the one body part that allegedly has to exit my nether regions first? Why must that be far larger than normal? The technician kept asking me if I was sure about the dates, and then if anyone else had ever mentioned this before. But I'm quite sure about both the cycle dates and the date of conception, so no question there. Baby just has a big noggin.
In measuring the big noggin, though, the technician (who was actually a doctor), kept measuring and remeasuring the belly and femur to see if the baby was ahead on all counts. The answer is yes, around 19 weeks for the belly and femur, but not the whopping 2 weeks ahead like the head. While doing so, he kept returning to one particular view, coming up from the bottom. In it, I could see the butt, two legs, spread-eagled, and then, umm, something in the middle. Since he was talking throughout his examination, it became crystal clear what direction we were looking from. At one point, I turned to Josh and asked, "Do you see what I see?" and his response? "I choose to ignore what I think I see." So we have no confirmation.
Clearly, I am no ultrasound technician. I have seen only a handful of boy and girl parts in ultrasound pictures from friends, and I can't be sure of what I saw. I also know that at this stage of the game, boy or girl parts are both very exaggerated and still settling into their relative positions. So the truth is, we still don't know and are keeping it that way until this baby decides to pop out and meet us. If anyone asks me, though, I am leaning toward thinking this baby is a boy. That would at least explain why I can only come up with a boy name for this baby, even though I've always thought that girl names are easier!
We'll see in December or January, I suppose.
The very most important thing, though, is that this beautiful little monkey is healthy and growing well so far. We watched him or her yawn, play with his or her face, kick around like crazy, curl up and stretch out and rub his or her eyes. It was amazing and I'm walking around on cloud 9, wondering how I can be so blessed, so very very fortunate.
I have a frame on my desk this morning, with a profile shot of my little tenant, one hand rubbing his eye and the other on his chest. The picture is in an engraved silver frame with the following at the bottom, "there is no such thing as a little moment."**
Indeed.
_____________________________
** Gift from Chatty Cricket.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
lots on the brain
1. Last night we attended a cooking class for Argentinean Barbecue at our local community center. I'm not sure why I planned this, since I could probably teach a class on Argentinean Barbecue, but Josh's birthday was a couple of weeks ago and I thought he'd like it. In theory, it could have been fun, but I found myself internally correcting the teachers at times. It was obnoxious, even to me, and it took something away from the class. Josh had fun, though, and so did two of our friends that came along. That is the important part.
2. Tomorrow is our big ultrasound, the one where they look at all the parts. Up until now, I've convinced myself that finding out the sex of this wee baby is not an option. It just isn't. Josh and I agreed that it was a surprise, and we're just not finding out. But for some reason, knowing that I could find out tomorrow is a little bit like torture. I really don't want to. I really want a surprise. I really think that waiting until the birth will be better for me. Still, a tiny part of me is screaming, "HOW CAN YOU NOT FIND OUT?!?!"
3. Yesterday my mom asked me if I talk to the baby all the time. Umm, I don't. Does this make me a bad mom already? I think about him or her all the time, and I keep being surprised by these little movements and teeny kicks. Sometimes I am in someone's office and out of the blue feel the tap, and it feels like this delicious secret between the baby and I. I almost cannot believe that other people don't realize this is happening. But I'm not talking to the baby, and I'm barely keeping up with my belly journal that asks me for thoughts and feelings. Is this strange?
4. Is it possible that my belly is growing by the day? Seriously? I think it is bigger since Sunday.
2. Tomorrow is our big ultrasound, the one where they look at all the parts. Up until now, I've convinced myself that finding out the sex of this wee baby is not an option. It just isn't. Josh and I agreed that it was a surprise, and we're just not finding out. But for some reason, knowing that I could find out tomorrow is a little bit like torture. I really don't want to. I really want a surprise. I really think that waiting until the birth will be better for me. Still, a tiny part of me is screaming, "HOW CAN YOU NOT FIND OUT?!?!"
3. Yesterday my mom asked me if I talk to the baby all the time. Umm, I don't. Does this make me a bad mom already? I think about him or her all the time, and I keep being surprised by these little movements and teeny kicks. Sometimes I am in someone's office and out of the blue feel the tap, and it feels like this delicious secret between the baby and I. I almost cannot believe that other people don't realize this is happening. But I'm not talking to the baby, and I'm barely keeping up with my belly journal that asks me for thoughts and feelings. Is this strange?
4. Is it possible that my belly is growing by the day? Seriously? I think it is bigger since Sunday.
Monday, July 24, 2006
kicks and dreams
On Saturday night, I had a terrible dream that I'd given birth to this baby, but I couldn't remember anything about it. In the dream, I'd accepted painkillers for the labor and for some reason, these painkillers wiped my memory clean of the birth or any of the aftermath. I was at home, it was 24 hours later, the baby was still at the hospital, and everyone refused to take me to go see her. In the midst of my begging to see my baby, Josh told me that he'd named her himself and already signed the birth certificate. I remember crying because he'd named her Sophia, and while I thought it was a perfectly lovely name, it wasn't what I had chosen for a girl!
But the worst was this horrific feeling in my stomach, because I needed to see my baby. I wanted to try to breastfeed, I wanted to hold her, and no one seemed to be taking me seriously. It was awful. I woke up Sunday morning, and spent most of the morning with a stomachache, because it felt so real.
We went out to breakfast to have some bagel sandwiches, and as I sat down to eat, I felt it, clear as day.
Kick... kick... kick...
Truthfully, it was more like a tap... tap... tap... but it wasn't gas, it wasn't ligaments, it wasn't anything except this baby kicking away. I felt it a couple more times that day, usually only once or twice, and today I've felt intermittent moments of pressure with a slight tap. I'm assuming that is the baby rolling or swimming, or whatever it does in there. It is lovely, and I'm anxious for it to move more. During a lunch meeting this afternoon, I found myself zoning out and focusing on my abdomen in the hopes that I might feel more of those sweet movements. I can hardly believe that it is only going to get stronger from here on out.
Up until now, I've been telling people that time is flying by, and that I am in no hurry for December to get here. The list of items to purchase and rooms to organize is overwhelming, and although I know that our lives will change this winter, I need more time to actually believe it. On Sunday morning, though, I realized that at the same time, I cannot wait for this baby to get here. I cannot wait to hold him or her in my arms!
I'm searching for a balance now, between trying to enjoy every moment of this pregnancy, and looking anxiously and happily toward the future. The truth is that time IS flying by, and I can hardly believe that August is right around the corner. We are taking a babymoon next month, and once we get back, the real job of preparing for this little one will start. I can't wait!
But the worst was this horrific feeling in my stomach, because I needed to see my baby. I wanted to try to breastfeed, I wanted to hold her, and no one seemed to be taking me seriously. It was awful. I woke up Sunday morning, and spent most of the morning with a stomachache, because it felt so real.
We went out to breakfast to have some bagel sandwiches, and as I sat down to eat, I felt it, clear as day.
Kick... kick... kick...
Truthfully, it was more like a tap... tap... tap... but it wasn't gas, it wasn't ligaments, it wasn't anything except this baby kicking away. I felt it a couple more times that day, usually only once or twice, and today I've felt intermittent moments of pressure with a slight tap. I'm assuming that is the baby rolling or swimming, or whatever it does in there. It is lovely, and I'm anxious for it to move more. During a lunch meeting this afternoon, I found myself zoning out and focusing on my abdomen in the hopes that I might feel more of those sweet movements. I can hardly believe that it is only going to get stronger from here on out.
Up until now, I've been telling people that time is flying by, and that I am in no hurry for December to get here. The list of items to purchase and rooms to organize is overwhelming, and although I know that our lives will change this winter, I need more time to actually believe it. On Sunday morning, though, I realized that at the same time, I cannot wait for this baby to get here. I cannot wait to hold him or her in my arms!
I'm searching for a balance now, between trying to enjoy every moment of this pregnancy, and looking anxiously and happily toward the future. The truth is that time IS flying by, and I can hardly believe that August is right around the corner. We are taking a babymoon next month, and once we get back, the real job of preparing for this little one will start. I can't wait!
Friday, July 21, 2006
improvement on the horizon
Thank you for your sympathy and your advice. It is amazing how your comments made me feel like I wasn't going to lose my mind anymore. Friends really can change your outlook.
It has been almost 36 hours since Murray last threw up. He has been begging for food nonstop since about 6pm last night, and gulping down the tablespoons of water I offer him every hour. At 6:30am this morning Josh gave him a teaspoon of rice with boiled chicken, and I gave him another teaspoon at 8:30am. Both of which he happily inhaled with grubby snorting licks. I am keeping fingers and toes crossed, and encouraging baby to do the same in utero, that this marks the end of our forays into vomit and diarrhea. Please, oh please, let this be it.
I'm terrified that this might be an existing problem in the house, so I'm taking all of your suggestions. We're super washing the bowls and bedding, throwing out all of the current dog food and starting over with a new bag. I'm searching the house for plants or dirt or dust, or any other material that they might be eating inside. I watch them like a hawk if they step outside for 5 minutes. Besides that, I'll just hope that this is it.
In excellent news, though, my mom came to visit this week and has been helping out on the dog care. I feel much better knowing that she is home with them all day, watching to make sure no one gets sick. She also brought with her a creamy dill dip from a bakery in Sacramento (La Bou). I've been craving that dip for more than a month. It even inhabits my dreams. So every day, I get to eat some baguette dipped in the creamy dill, some vegetables dipped in the creamy dill, I even sometimes resort to eating the creamy dill straight off of my fingers. Ahhh, pregnancy cravings are a wonderful thing.
If you can believe it, though, getting the dip was an adventure. When my mom went to the bakery last week, they refused to sell her more than 5 tiny containers of it. 5 tiny containers about the size of what you would get mustard or mayonnaise at a sandwich shop, those small clear containers with a lid. It must hold about 3 teaspoons of liquid. The bakery claimed that their company policy did not permit them to sell more than 5 containers in one day to anyone. My mom explained the story, assuming that the tale about carrying the dip across the country to her pregnant daughter in Boston would clearly be enough to thaw their hearts. Nope, company policy.
Mom asked if she could come back later in the day and pick up 5 more containers. Nope, company policy. Then she was told that if she didn't cause too much trouble, they wouldn't call the other stores to warn them that she might be coming to buy more dip. They actually said that, out loud, to my mother. Almost like a threat, as if it would even be legal to try and stop her from purchasing another product at another bakery across town!
So we sent my dad to do the purchasing, and when they gave him the same line about 5 containers, he made a scene, telling people at the tables about his poor pregnant craving daughter in Boston, until he had people offering to purchase containers of dip for him, and the bakery finally relented.
Victory only makes the dip all the sweeter.
Too bad Murray and Tango can't have some too.
It has been almost 36 hours since Murray last threw up. He has been begging for food nonstop since about 6pm last night, and gulping down the tablespoons of water I offer him every hour. At 6:30am this morning Josh gave him a teaspoon of rice with boiled chicken, and I gave him another teaspoon at 8:30am. Both of which he happily inhaled with grubby snorting licks. I am keeping fingers and toes crossed, and encouraging baby to do the same in utero, that this marks the end of our forays into vomit and diarrhea. Please, oh please, let this be it.
I'm terrified that this might be an existing problem in the house, so I'm taking all of your suggestions. We're super washing the bowls and bedding, throwing out all of the current dog food and starting over with a new bag. I'm searching the house for plants or dirt or dust, or any other material that they might be eating inside. I watch them like a hawk if they step outside for 5 minutes. Besides that, I'll just hope that this is it.
In excellent news, though, my mom came to visit this week and has been helping out on the dog care. I feel much better knowing that she is home with them all day, watching to make sure no one gets sick. She also brought with her a creamy dill dip from a bakery in Sacramento (La Bou). I've been craving that dip for more than a month. It even inhabits my dreams. So every day, I get to eat some baguette dipped in the creamy dill, some vegetables dipped in the creamy dill, I even sometimes resort to eating the creamy dill straight off of my fingers. Ahhh, pregnancy cravings are a wonderful thing.
If you can believe it, though, getting the dip was an adventure. When my mom went to the bakery last week, they refused to sell her more than 5 tiny containers of it. 5 tiny containers about the size of what you would get mustard or mayonnaise at a sandwich shop, those small clear containers with a lid. It must hold about 3 teaspoons of liquid. The bakery claimed that their company policy did not permit them to sell more than 5 containers in one day to anyone. My mom explained the story, assuming that the tale about carrying the dip across the country to her pregnant daughter in Boston would clearly be enough to thaw their hearts. Nope, company policy.
Mom asked if she could come back later in the day and pick up 5 more containers. Nope, company policy. Then she was told that if she didn't cause too much trouble, they wouldn't call the other stores to warn them that she might be coming to buy more dip. They actually said that, out loud, to my mother. Almost like a threat, as if it would even be legal to try and stop her from purchasing another product at another bakery across town!
So we sent my dad to do the purchasing, and when they gave him the same line about 5 containers, he made a scene, telling people at the tables about his poor pregnant craving daughter in Boston, until he had people offering to purchase containers of dip for him, and the bakery finally relented.
Victory only makes the dip all the sweeter.
Too bad Murray and Tango can't have some too.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
and the universe continues to conspire
Let me tell you about my last three weeks, okay?
Three weeks ago, Tango started acting funny. We didn't know why, but he was hobbling around the house in pain. At night, he would get up and down and pace around the room or the bed. This meant that I was up for most of the night with him, trying to make sure that he wasn't throwing up or having diarrhea, or in excruciating pain of some sort. I eventually called the emergency veterinarian, who told me to wait and see if other symptoms developed. After a couple of days, he started to have diarrhea and continued with his strange behavior, so I brought him in. The doctor examined him and prescribed some antibiotics to see if it would take care of the stomach troubles, and we started him on a strictly bland diet. After a few days, he seemed better.
For about a week, we had a blissful period where no one was sick. Both dogs were cheery, we kept with the bland feeding program and all was well.
A week and a half ago, Murray broke out in hives. All over his abdomen. Of course, it happened on a Sunday, because it seems that dogs never get sick in the afternoon or morning, preferring the late night or wee hours of a weekend. I waited a few hours, and his hives began to spread into bigger rings, so I sent Josh to fetch some baby Benadryl while I did research on the internet for dosage instructions. I eventually found a dosage on a veterinary web site, and gave Murray a little bit that night. He was able to sleep without scratching and his hives seemed mildly improved, so I gave him a little more in the morning. And then he started throwing up.
Since we didn't know whether the throwing up was because of the hives or because of the Benadryl, Josh took him to the vet. There he received subcutaneous fluids, and a shot of Tagamet to stop the vomiting. Thankfully, after only a couple more episodes, the vomiting ceased that night.
We had new strict orders to watch him carefully for dehydration, feed him small amounts of water and after 24 hours without vomiting, small amounts of rice and chicken. I worked from home in order to watch him and make sure all was okay. Unfortunately, that day coincided with Josh's birthday. The poor guy had to spend it listening to me complain and fret over Murray's health, and then come home to no birthday celebration because I was afraid to leave Murray in order to go to the store. That night, Josh went to play in a softball game, and five minutes after he left, Murray had explosive diarrhea all over the house.
When I say explosive, I mean that I left to grab a glass of water in the kitchen and came back to diarrhea on the couch, on the living room rug, in the front hallway, in the office, and on the stairs. To the point that I sunk to the floor and sobbed at the injustice of it all. I gagged through cleaning it up, while leaving Josh tear-filled messages on his voicemail begging him to come home. I was up with him that night, and the next night, every time he padded over to the door begging to be let out.
Murray continued having diarrhea for 4 days, until it finally tapered off, and we again had 3 days of peace and harmony and health.
And then, last night he started vomiting again. He vomited a couple of time last night, a couple of times this morning, and now again this afternoon. My mom is home with him, and she has called to report on his behavior.
I'm at my wits end. I hesitate to take him to the vet again, because I'm certain that their response will be to charge me $200 and then tell me to continue with a strict diet. At the same time, though, I'm worried that he isn't getting better and that maybe he is dehydrated. He is acting mostly fine, with only a little bit of sadness or gloominess when he throws up. On the other hand, I feel like I'm losing my mind.
I don't know how people deal with sick dogs when they have to work. How will I deal with these sick dogs when I have a baby? I guess I just will. In the meantime, I'll wait to hear from the vet and hope that soon we'll be done with these ongoing sicknesses. Sigh.
Three weeks ago, Tango started acting funny. We didn't know why, but he was hobbling around the house in pain. At night, he would get up and down and pace around the room or the bed. This meant that I was up for most of the night with him, trying to make sure that he wasn't throwing up or having diarrhea, or in excruciating pain of some sort. I eventually called the emergency veterinarian, who told me to wait and see if other symptoms developed. After a couple of days, he started to have diarrhea and continued with his strange behavior, so I brought him in. The doctor examined him and prescribed some antibiotics to see if it would take care of the stomach troubles, and we started him on a strictly bland diet. After a few days, he seemed better.
For about a week, we had a blissful period where no one was sick. Both dogs were cheery, we kept with the bland feeding program and all was well.
A week and a half ago, Murray broke out in hives. All over his abdomen. Of course, it happened on a Sunday, because it seems that dogs never get sick in the afternoon or morning, preferring the late night or wee hours of a weekend. I waited a few hours, and his hives began to spread into bigger rings, so I sent Josh to fetch some baby Benadryl while I did research on the internet for dosage instructions. I eventually found a dosage on a veterinary web site, and gave Murray a little bit that night. He was able to sleep without scratching and his hives seemed mildly improved, so I gave him a little more in the morning. And then he started throwing up.
Since we didn't know whether the throwing up was because of the hives or because of the Benadryl, Josh took him to the vet. There he received subcutaneous fluids, and a shot of Tagamet to stop the vomiting. Thankfully, after only a couple more episodes, the vomiting ceased that night.
We had new strict orders to watch him carefully for dehydration, feed him small amounts of water and after 24 hours without vomiting, small amounts of rice and chicken. I worked from home in order to watch him and make sure all was okay. Unfortunately, that day coincided with Josh's birthday. The poor guy had to spend it listening to me complain and fret over Murray's health, and then come home to no birthday celebration because I was afraid to leave Murray in order to go to the store. That night, Josh went to play in a softball game, and five minutes after he left, Murray had explosive diarrhea all over the house.
When I say explosive, I mean that I left to grab a glass of water in the kitchen and came back to diarrhea on the couch, on the living room rug, in the front hallway, in the office, and on the stairs. To the point that I sunk to the floor and sobbed at the injustice of it all. I gagged through cleaning it up, while leaving Josh tear-filled messages on his voicemail begging him to come home. I was up with him that night, and the next night, every time he padded over to the door begging to be let out.
Murray continued having diarrhea for 4 days, until it finally tapered off, and we again had 3 days of peace and harmony and health.
And then, last night he started vomiting again. He vomited a couple of time last night, a couple of times this morning, and now again this afternoon. My mom is home with him, and she has called to report on his behavior.
I'm at my wits end. I hesitate to take him to the vet again, because I'm certain that their response will be to charge me $200 and then tell me to continue with a strict diet. At the same time, though, I'm worried that he isn't getting better and that maybe he is dehydrated. He is acting mostly fine, with only a little bit of sadness or gloominess when he throws up. On the other hand, I feel like I'm losing my mind.
I don't know how people deal with sick dogs when they have to work. How will I deal with these sick dogs when I have a baby? I guess I just will. In the meantime, I'll wait to hear from the vet and hope that soon we'll be done with these ongoing sicknesses. Sigh.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
i can't make this stuff up
The pooches and I have a routine in the mornings. I get up while they lounge in bed, I shower and get dressed, and then I spend 10 minutes coaxing them out from under the covers and off the bed. We go downstairs, I make myself a bowl of cereal or oatmeal, and we head out to the front yard while I sit on the stoop and eat my breakfast and they run around like banshees. Right before I leave, we come back inside, I fix them breakfast, do last minute things like brush my teeth, organize my lunch, and I leave for the day while they are munching away.
This morning, Tango stood patiently by the door as I poured myself the bowl of cereal, but when I turned the knob and slowly opened it, I heard this awfully loud screeching sound. It sounded as if it were coming from the door itself, or from something inside the front entryway. At almost the same moment, the phone rang, and I turned away to pick up the call. I started chattering away to Josh, and walked back to the door, and as I reached to open the screen, I again heard the loud screeching. I leaned close to the screen door to see what was outside of the door making the awful noises. As I came close to pressing my nose against the metal, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
Yup, a bat had wedged itself into our screen door, and was protesting loudly that someone was disturbing his daytime rest.
First I screamed, then I hopped up and down, then I slammed the door shut until I figured out that, in fact, it wouldn't be able to get to me on the other side of the door. And then I got the camera.
It didn't like the camera flash, and proceeded to screech loudly every time the flash went off.
After 15 minutes of alternating banging and flashing, it eventually jumped out from the screen door and onto the front porch. While on the front porch, it started crawling around in circles, with no apparent goal to depart from our front step. At that point, I started to worry that perhaps this particular bat had rabies or was injured. Ironically, about 2 weeks ago I saw a special on Martha Stewart on the different species of bats, and how helpful they are in their bug-eating capabilities. That being said, while I'm grateful that this bat digests the many mosquitoes that are out these days, I'd prefer that he not hang out on my front stoop.
I called my town's Animal Control, and their suggestion was that I swoosh it off the steps with a broom. I assured him, though, that I didn't think my ob/gyn would want me outside playing around with a potentially rabid FLYING animal, so he agreed to come out and help it along.
So that's what I did this morning. How about you?
This morning, Tango stood patiently by the door as I poured myself the bowl of cereal, but when I turned the knob and slowly opened it, I heard this awfully loud screeching sound. It sounded as if it were coming from the door itself, or from something inside the front entryway. At almost the same moment, the phone rang, and I turned away to pick up the call. I started chattering away to Josh, and walked back to the door, and as I reached to open the screen, I again heard the loud screeching. I leaned close to the screen door to see what was outside of the door making the awful noises. As I came close to pressing my nose against the metal, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
Yup, a bat had wedged itself into our screen door, and was protesting loudly that someone was disturbing his daytime rest.
First I screamed, then I hopped up and down, then I slammed the door shut until I figured out that, in fact, it wouldn't be able to get to me on the other side of the door. And then I got the camera.
It didn't like the camera flash, and proceeded to screech loudly every time the flash went off.
After 15 minutes of alternating banging and flashing, it eventually jumped out from the screen door and onto the front porch. While on the front porch, it started crawling around in circles, with no apparent goal to depart from our front step. At that point, I started to worry that perhaps this particular bat had rabies or was injured. Ironically, about 2 weeks ago I saw a special on Martha Stewart on the different species of bats, and how helpful they are in their bug-eating capabilities. That being said, while I'm grateful that this bat digests the many mosquitoes that are out these days, I'd prefer that he not hang out on my front stoop.
I called my town's Animal Control, and their suggestion was that I swoosh it off the steps with a broom. I assured him, though, that I didn't think my ob/gyn would want me outside playing around with a potentially rabid FLYING animal, so he agreed to come out and help it along.
So that's what I did this morning. How about you?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
an actual baby
Pregnancy consumes my mind these days. I find myself looking down in awe at this growing belly that blocks my view of my feet. Josh noted the other day that my belly button has become somewhat larger as the area swells outward. In quiet moments I try to keep still, looking for that fluttering everyone tells me about. The other day, I felt a mild tap tap tap from within, and I held my breath at the thought that perhaps those were the tiny tap tap taps of tiny feet. Only time will tell, I guess.
At the same time, though, I try not to talk about the pregnancy as much as I'd like. At home, I talk poor Josh's ear off, with ideas and plans and schedules. My mother also gets the brunt of my chattering, but other than that, I try not to be the all-consumed, self-centered preggo that I actually feel.
Despite all of the pregnancy thoughts, it is only recently that thoughts about an actual baby have entered my mind. Listening to the heartbeat at appointments seemed so surreal, as if something strange was making that lovely chug-a-chug-a-chug, not an actual beating heart. So it was with a good deal of shock that I saw a real live baby on the screen today during an impromptu ultrasound.
I've decided to switch doctors, despite loving my current ob-gyn because I'd gotten some pressure from friends regarding the hospital at which she delivers. With the wealth of options in Boston, many of my friends and family felt that we should be delivering at one of the top rated hospitals, rather than the community hospital associated with my doctor. It was a difficult decision to make, because my doctor is truly a lovely person. Very friendly and kind, laid back and calming, but the possibility of delivering a baby in need of a neonatal intensive care unit was weighing on my mind, despite the low probability of that happening. I wanted to know that the best NICU in New England was a corridor away, rather than a 15 minute drive. Paranoid, I know, but that is first time motherhood for you.
So today, at my introduction appointment with the doctor, I was stunned when she suggested we "take a quick peek" at the baby. Poor Josh had opted to miss his first appointment of this pregnancy, since this was an introductory appointment that was supposed to take 15 minutes, and it was in the middle of the day. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the most exciting one thus far.
I felt that same momentary panic as she got the ultrasound machine set up. That fear that this time something will go wrong, but as she pressed the wand against my abdomen, a fuzzy image of a beautiful, sweet baby filled the screen. A baby that played with one hand against its chin while holding the other hand against its cheek. A baby that flexed and pointed its teeny tiny feet, and turned its head from side to side. A baby's whose beautiful heart showed 4 beautiful chambers that were beating at 140 beats per minutes. It even wriggled a few times on screen, showing off a healthy spine and rounded belly. Two eyes, a little nose, a mouth that opened and closed.
Folks, there was a BABY inside there.
Not some random growth that is forcing me out of regular clothes faster than I can buy maternity clothes to replace them. Not a parasite making me vomit for weeks on end. An actual baby that might actually be born, that might actually come to live in our house. It blew me away.
The doctor said we were taking a quick peek, but in fact, we spent several minutes while she pointed out the different body parts and did a heartbeat measurement. It was amazing, and for much of today I've been walking around in a daze, tears prickling my eyes when I remember the little face turning from side to side.
A baby. Who knew?
At the same time, though, I try not to talk about the pregnancy as much as I'd like. At home, I talk poor Josh's ear off, with ideas and plans and schedules. My mother also gets the brunt of my chattering, but other than that, I try not to be the all-consumed, self-centered preggo that I actually feel.
Despite all of the pregnancy thoughts, it is only recently that thoughts about an actual baby have entered my mind. Listening to the heartbeat at appointments seemed so surreal, as if something strange was making that lovely chug-a-chug-a-chug, not an actual beating heart. So it was with a good deal of shock that I saw a real live baby on the screen today during an impromptu ultrasound.
I've decided to switch doctors, despite loving my current ob-gyn because I'd gotten some pressure from friends regarding the hospital at which she delivers. With the wealth of options in Boston, many of my friends and family felt that we should be delivering at one of the top rated hospitals, rather than the community hospital associated with my doctor. It was a difficult decision to make, because my doctor is truly a lovely person. Very friendly and kind, laid back and calming, but the possibility of delivering a baby in need of a neonatal intensive care unit was weighing on my mind, despite the low probability of that happening. I wanted to know that the best NICU in New England was a corridor away, rather than a 15 minute drive. Paranoid, I know, but that is first time motherhood for you.
So today, at my introduction appointment with the doctor, I was stunned when she suggested we "take a quick peek" at the baby. Poor Josh had opted to miss his first appointment of this pregnancy, since this was an introductory appointment that was supposed to take 15 minutes, and it was in the middle of the day. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the most exciting one thus far.
I felt that same momentary panic as she got the ultrasound machine set up. That fear that this time something will go wrong, but as she pressed the wand against my abdomen, a fuzzy image of a beautiful, sweet baby filled the screen. A baby that played with one hand against its chin while holding the other hand against its cheek. A baby that flexed and pointed its teeny tiny feet, and turned its head from side to side. A baby's whose beautiful heart showed 4 beautiful chambers that were beating at 140 beats per minutes. It even wriggled a few times on screen, showing off a healthy spine and rounded belly. Two eyes, a little nose, a mouth that opened and closed.
Folks, there was a BABY inside there.
Not some random growth that is forcing me out of regular clothes faster than I can buy maternity clothes to replace them. Not a parasite making me vomit for weeks on end. An actual baby that might actually be born, that might actually come to live in our house. It blew me away.
The doctor said we were taking a quick peek, but in fact, we spent several minutes while she pointed out the different body parts and did a heartbeat measurement. It was amazing, and for much of today I've been walking around in a daze, tears prickling my eyes when I remember the little face turning from side to side.
A baby. Who knew?
Thursday, July 06, 2006
fourth of july fun, cookies and blogger meetups
The week before last was a rough week around these parts, and I was counting the minutes until we headed out of town on the Friday night before the Fourth of July to visit my inlaws in the Berkshires. Work conspired against me, and we didn't hit the road until after 10pm. Not ideal for a 2 hour drive, but I was terribly anxious for a change of scenery. I couldn't help but feel flooded with guilt all of last week, whether that makes sense or not, whether it is healthy or not.
Getting away to my inlaws' home, in the middle of nowhere, with mountain views from every window, and deserted roads for walking, and nothing to do but play with the pups and eat, was exactly what I needed. My inlaws were stellar to us, too. We went swimming at a local pond per my request, went to see Superman Returns at the drive-ins with a picnic dinner and big cushions to sit on while watching the movie. My mother in law baked chocolate chip cookies for me at 9pm at night, just because I said I was craving them. It was enough to make me want to never come home.
I have to admit, though, that the highlight of our trip was a visit out to visit Chris of Notes from the Trenches. Josh kept asking me what having 7 kids must be like as we drove over to her house, and as we were leaving, he told me that he never thought someone could make it look as easy as Chris did. Her children were beautiful, sweet, and incredibly well-behaved, to the point that we were wondering what she feeds them. There wasn't a single fight amongst them, and each of her adorable children was polite and friendly and chatty. After we'd left, we also marveled at how Chris and Rob can look so unbelievably young too! Josh kept asking me if I was sure that Chris wasn't in her 20's. It was fabulous to put a face to her hysterical posts, and meeting her felt like seeing an old friend. I can't wait to do it again!
After all that fun and inlaw pampering, it was hard to return to regular life in Boston. For some reason, everything is overwhelming these days, and I guess I just have to chalk it up to hormones. It doesn't help that both Tango and Murray have been putting us through the ringer with different stomach problems. Last week we were up all night with Tango throwing up, and starting this Saturday, we've been up and down with Murray and his stomach problems. I had to work from home today because Murray couldn't stop throwing up until the wee hours of the morning and we were terrified that he'd get dehydrated. I'm praying he is feeling better by tomorrow morning because I don't think I can manage another day away from the office.
Besides that, life is great. I've been feeling pretty good except for random headaches that I'm starting to think might be attributed to sugar. My belly is also starting to look actually pregnant instead of just chunky, and seeing myself in mirrors is a bit of a shock. I can't believe my body is actually doing this!
Anyway, sorry for the bloggy break, I'm going to have to kick myself back into gear and resume my regular blogging.
Getting away to my inlaws' home, in the middle of nowhere, with mountain views from every window, and deserted roads for walking, and nothing to do but play with the pups and eat, was exactly what I needed. My inlaws were stellar to us, too. We went swimming at a local pond per my request, went to see Superman Returns at the drive-ins with a picnic dinner and big cushions to sit on while watching the movie. My mother in law baked chocolate chip cookies for me at 9pm at night, just because I said I was craving them. It was enough to make me want to never come home.
I have to admit, though, that the highlight of our trip was a visit out to visit Chris of Notes from the Trenches. Josh kept asking me what having 7 kids must be like as we drove over to her house, and as we were leaving, he told me that he never thought someone could make it look as easy as Chris did. Her children were beautiful, sweet, and incredibly well-behaved, to the point that we were wondering what she feeds them. There wasn't a single fight amongst them, and each of her adorable children was polite and friendly and chatty. After we'd left, we also marveled at how Chris and Rob can look so unbelievably young too! Josh kept asking me if I was sure that Chris wasn't in her 20's. It was fabulous to put a face to her hysterical posts, and meeting her felt like seeing an old friend. I can't wait to do it again!
After all that fun and inlaw pampering, it was hard to return to regular life in Boston. For some reason, everything is overwhelming these days, and I guess I just have to chalk it up to hormones. It doesn't help that both Tango and Murray have been putting us through the ringer with different stomach problems. Last week we were up all night with Tango throwing up, and starting this Saturday, we've been up and down with Murray and his stomach problems. I had to work from home today because Murray couldn't stop throwing up until the wee hours of the morning and we were terrified that he'd get dehydrated. I'm praying he is feeling better by tomorrow morning because I don't think I can manage another day away from the office.
Besides that, life is great. I've been feeling pretty good except for random headaches that I'm starting to think might be attributed to sugar. My belly is also starting to look actually pregnant instead of just chunky, and seeing myself in mirrors is a bit of a shock. I can't believe my body is actually doing this!
Anyway, sorry for the bloggy break, I'm going to have to kick myself back into gear and resume my regular blogging.
Friday, June 30, 2006
don't cry for me...
Annnnddd, Argentina is out of the World Cup.
I would cry, but frankly this week has been so bad that I have no tears left, plus, these days I really have perspective.
Tango has been in and out of the vet all week, keeping me up until all hours of the night throwing up and having all other manners of unpleasant stomach problems, and generally trying to kill me.
Plus, my previous post.
And to top it all off, sweet wonderful Jill is having her sixth miscarriage. If you have some love to give, please swing over to her place.
I hope you all have restful and happy weekends. Happy Independence Day.
I would cry, but frankly this week has been so bad that I have no tears left, plus, these days I really have perspective.
Tango has been in and out of the vet all week, keeping me up until all hours of the night throwing up and having all other manners of unpleasant stomach problems, and generally trying to kill me.
Plus, my previous post.
And to top it all off, sweet wonderful Jill is having her sixth miscarriage. If you have some love to give, please swing over to her place.
I hope you all have restful and happy weekends. Happy Independence Day.
Monday, June 26, 2006
wishing things were different
This weekend one of my dearest friends had a miscarriage at 9 weeks. We work together, play together, spend countless hours together, and had often joked that our babies would turn their heads to each others voices, more so than our own husbands.
It is impossible for me to put into words how excited we were to have babies so close in age, to be on maternity leave together, to take day trips and support each other. And my heart breaks that this has happened, especially at a time when she was trusting more and getting more excited at the prospect of having a baby.
If you have positive thoughts and prayers to share, please do. There is so little I can do to help her, except be sad along with her, and wish from the bottom of my heart that things were different.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
i feel a little sick
I just spent the last 15 minutes licking each individual chip in the Doritos Cool Ranch package to get all of the powder off. I didn't eat the chips, just licked off the outside, before depositing the chip neatly back into the bag.
I think I need help.
I think I need help.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
13 weeks, and the reaction
13 weeks this past weekend! Yay! I celebrated by feeling terrible again and relaxing on the couch all day. I've come to realize that in my newly pregnant state, I'm unable to tolerate the heat. Or at least, that is my interpretation of why every time it gets above 75 degrees here in Boston, I seem to shut down. On Saturday I walked to our town center, about a 3/4 of a mile walk, in about 85 degree heat, and ended up totally sick again that evening. It was hot, but I walked slowly, and with water, and it wasn't THAT far! Regardless, I was out for the count the rest of the night and all of Sunday. I feel like such a weakling every time it happens, even though Josh is fabulously understanding. He never complains about taking over the brunt of the housework, and reassures me constantly that he understands, all while fetching juice and water and snacks.
Last night at 10:30pm, he even drove to the grocery store to purchase green olives stuffed with jalapenos (I know, yuck) and plums, because after seeing people on the television having martinis with olives in them, I became desperate for them. The olives, not the martinis. And plums, well, just because. I have no explanation for the strange combinations.
I also told my work last week, and wisely told the head of our department, who is a woman with three children. They were very excited! In fact, the head of the department jumped up and down! And then another senior partner told me to name the baby after him, whether it was a girl or a boy. I told a couple of the other partners, and a few associates, but left the news to travel on its own to most people. So far, everyone has been very enthusiastic and excited. The partners have offered part-time (3 days a week) or flex-time (4 days or some other combination of home and in-office work) or any other combination I'd like, as alternatives after the baby is born. I'm definitely coming back to work for a number of reasons, but I will likely have to wait and see how I feel after the baby is born before deciding the number of days I'll work. I can also take extended maternity leave, although my regular maternity leave is 5 and a half months, and my mom thinks that might be enough time for me. We'll have to wait and see.
I was extremely nervous going in to tell them, but was very pleasantly surprised. It was a great experience, and everyone has been happy and excited for us. The head of the group even gave me lots of breastfeeding and pumping advice, since she pumped for all of her kids even after she came back to work and breastfed for over a year. I feel very supported, which is great.
And just in time, because I am starting to show these days! Only two people told me that they'd wondered about my new growing belly, which surprised me, because I am finding it rather obvious. Today is the first day that my stomach appears to be bigger than my boobs! I figure that is the big giveaway to most people.
So all in all, it has been a good week. I have ups and downs with the nausea, but I feel good most of the time. The best part of all this is that I am starting to get very excited over the whole thing! We have done absolutely nothing with regard to the pregnancy, and we are probably going to start some minor preparations soon, especially while I feel good. The guest room that will be the nursery is in shambles, so we'll have to start emptying and rearranging that stuff around the house. The closet is still full of Josh's clothes, so we'll have to empty that too, and then I might start looking at paint samples.
I can't remember if I've mentioned that we aren't finding out what this baby is, so I can go ahead and look at colors and bedding if I feel like it. Josh thinks we should get two sets of bedding, one girl and one boy, and then return whichever one we won't use. I have to decide if I want to do that, or pick something unisex. I have lots of time, though!
Last night at 10:30pm, he even drove to the grocery store to purchase green olives stuffed with jalapenos (I know, yuck) and plums, because after seeing people on the television having martinis with olives in them, I became desperate for them. The olives, not the martinis. And plums, well, just because. I have no explanation for the strange combinations.
I also told my work last week, and wisely told the head of our department, who is a woman with three children. They were very excited! In fact, the head of the department jumped up and down! And then another senior partner told me to name the baby after him, whether it was a girl or a boy. I told a couple of the other partners, and a few associates, but left the news to travel on its own to most people. So far, everyone has been very enthusiastic and excited. The partners have offered part-time (3 days a week) or flex-time (4 days or some other combination of home and in-office work) or any other combination I'd like, as alternatives after the baby is born. I'm definitely coming back to work for a number of reasons, but I will likely have to wait and see how I feel after the baby is born before deciding the number of days I'll work. I can also take extended maternity leave, although my regular maternity leave is 5 and a half months, and my mom thinks that might be enough time for me. We'll have to wait and see.
I was extremely nervous going in to tell them, but was very pleasantly surprised. It was a great experience, and everyone has been happy and excited for us. The head of the group even gave me lots of breastfeeding and pumping advice, since she pumped for all of her kids even after she came back to work and breastfed for over a year. I feel very supported, which is great.
And just in time, because I am starting to show these days! Only two people told me that they'd wondered about my new growing belly, which surprised me, because I am finding it rather obvious. Today is the first day that my stomach appears to be bigger than my boobs! I figure that is the big giveaway to most people.
So all in all, it has been a good week. I have ups and downs with the nausea, but I feel good most of the time. The best part of all this is that I am starting to get very excited over the whole thing! We have done absolutely nothing with regard to the pregnancy, and we are probably going to start some minor preparations soon, especially while I feel good. The guest room that will be the nursery is in shambles, so we'll have to start emptying and rearranging that stuff around the house. The closet is still full of Josh's clothes, so we'll have to empty that too, and then I might start looking at paint samples.
I can't remember if I've mentioned that we aren't finding out what this baby is, so I can go ahead and look at colors and bedding if I feel like it. Josh thinks we should get two sets of bedding, one girl and one boy, and then return whichever one we won't use. I have to decide if I want to do that, or pick something unisex. I have lots of time, though!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
community supported agriculture, and mysterious vegetables
Last summer, I heard about something called community supported agriculture, or CSA, where you sign up to purchase a share in a nearby farm. The cost of your share covers the farm's expenses throughout the winter and spring, in anticipation of a good bounty that summer and fall. You have to pledge in advance to support the farm with your subscription, and when late spring hits, you begin to receive a basket of fruits and vegetables per week. In my case, my farm delivers from June 9th (15th this year because of all the rain) until November 27th. During this time, we are also free to go to the farm for pick-your-own events, like strawberry or snap pea picking.
The benefits are clear- you support small community farmers, you get fresh in-season food, often picked that day, and you get it delivered to your home (in our case, a pickup spot in our neighborhood). Of course, if the farm has a terrible season, such as (ahem) raining for weeks on end, you might lose out on a week, or the produce might be limited to what has survived the deluge. You also get no choice in what is delivered to you, so it requires a spirit of adventure.
In our case, for the last year and up until this morning sickness hit, I'd been eating as a vegetarian so we figured that I'd consume most of what was delivered. The produce is enough for 1-2 vegetarian adults or a family of 4 non-vegetarians. Now that the morning sickness is fading (I hope!), I've started consuming fruits and vegetables again. Yesterday and today, I was able to eat a spinach salad without feeling sick afterwards. Hurray!
Today was the first pick-up date for our CSA share. Josh picked up a fairly large box of spinach, romaine lettuce, boston bib lettuce (or outside of boston bib lettuce, as Josh is calling it), arugula, radishes, and then something that I've never seen before. This is where the spirit of adventure (and blog friends that might know what this is) comes in handy. So my bloggy buddies, what is this stuff?
My flier said braising mix, so does that mean that I cook it? And eat it with what? I've been pretty excited for our share to start this summer, because it seems so fun and exciting to come up with meals based on whatever we receive. We have projected list of what should arrive in the weeks to come, like cabbage and bok choy (which I don't know how to make), strawberries, etc., but nothing definite.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
12 weeks! and my new love affair
TWELVE WEEKS! I thought there would be some fanfare when I made it this far, but the cake and balloons must have been delayed because nothing showed up at my house! I've already warned Josh that if I make it to my due date, I expect a cake. Everyone deserves a cake on their due date. With chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
I was rewarded, however, by the return of my energy. For a few brief shining hours on Sunday, I felt like a normal person again! I took advantage of this by checking out some yard sales, looking at the local YMCAs to see which one I will join, going strawberry picking, planting my tomato plants, planting some annuals, and weeding my whole backyard since I've been ignoring it since before I got pregnant. It was such a relief to not be paralyzed by nausea and exhaustion for the first time in 8 weeks! Sunday night brought a return to the nausea, but I am pleased to report that I have enjoyed several hours of nausea-free living over the last two days. I'm so pleased, I could cry.
Unfortunately, my zeal for gardening and weeding brought a flare up in my sciatica, and although I'm not nauseous, I am walking around the office with a limp. My thighs and butt are killing me, but I attribute that more to my excessive movements after so many weeks of lying around.
Along with the relief from nausea and vomiting, I have discovered a new love in my life.
Food. Delicious, fantastic, flavorful food.
If I see someone eating something at lunch, I have to have it within the following few hours. If I see a commercial for food, I dream about the food until I can convince Josh to take me the restaurant. If people on television are eating something, Josh will have to restrain me from cooking at 11pm. He seems to think that egg salad sandwiches are inappropriate to make after midnight. The other night, someone at work had a rotisserie chicken for dinner, and I begged Josh to pick one up for me to have when I arrived home from work at 10:30pm. I actually CRIED big, fat, hot tears when none of the nearby grocery stores had any more rotisserie chickens in stock. Then I accused him of being selfish because he wouldn't drive the half hour to a far away large grocery store. This weekend we stocked up with 3 rotisserie chickens, because this won't happen to me again!
When I do eat whatever I have been craving, it is definitively the best whatever it is I have ever had. This weekend I had the best two salads of my life. Today I had the best lemonade of my life. Yesterday I had the best cookies of my life. I'm starting to get concerned. I have to literally convince myself sometimes that I will most certainly be able to eat whatever it is tomorrow. It doesn't have to be right that second.
What a change, though! The thought of most foods used to turn my stomach, and while many things still make me feel a bit queasy, I am seeing such an improvement in my stomach's abilities. You told the truth! You said I'd start to feel better! I'm so happy!
I'm still waiting for the sex drive you all have promised, although I have been having rather *ahem* vivid dreams. Josh is waiting with bated breath, too. ; )
I was rewarded, however, by the return of my energy. For a few brief shining hours on Sunday, I felt like a normal person again! I took advantage of this by checking out some yard sales, looking at the local YMCAs to see which one I will join, going strawberry picking, planting my tomato plants, planting some annuals, and weeding my whole backyard since I've been ignoring it since before I got pregnant. It was such a relief to not be paralyzed by nausea and exhaustion for the first time in 8 weeks! Sunday night brought a return to the nausea, but I am pleased to report that I have enjoyed several hours of nausea-free living over the last two days. I'm so pleased, I could cry.
Unfortunately, my zeal for gardening and weeding brought a flare up in my sciatica, and although I'm not nauseous, I am walking around the office with a limp. My thighs and butt are killing me, but I attribute that more to my excessive movements after so many weeks of lying around.
Along with the relief from nausea and vomiting, I have discovered a new love in my life.
Food. Delicious, fantastic, flavorful food.
If I see someone eating something at lunch, I have to have it within the following few hours. If I see a commercial for food, I dream about the food until I can convince Josh to take me the restaurant. If people on television are eating something, Josh will have to restrain me from cooking at 11pm. He seems to think that egg salad sandwiches are inappropriate to make after midnight. The other night, someone at work had a rotisserie chicken for dinner, and I begged Josh to pick one up for me to have when I arrived home from work at 10:30pm. I actually CRIED big, fat, hot tears when none of the nearby grocery stores had any more rotisserie chickens in stock. Then I accused him of being selfish because he wouldn't drive the half hour to a far away large grocery store. This weekend we stocked up with 3 rotisserie chickens, because this won't happen to me again!
When I do eat whatever I have been craving, it is definitively the best whatever it is I have ever had. This weekend I had the best two salads of my life. Today I had the best lemonade of my life. Yesterday I had the best cookies of my life. I'm starting to get concerned. I have to literally convince myself sometimes that I will most certainly be able to eat whatever it is tomorrow. It doesn't have to be right that second.
What a change, though! The thought of most foods used to turn my stomach, and while many things still make me feel a bit queasy, I am seeing such an improvement in my stomach's abilities. You told the truth! You said I'd start to feel better! I'm so happy!
I'm still waiting for the sex drive you all have promised, although I have been having rather *ahem* vivid dreams. Josh is waiting with bated breath, too. ; )
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
it is overtaking me!
I look at these pictures and wonder how my colleagues haven't figured it out yet. Do they just think I've been gaining lots of weight?
This is where we started. The little pokey thing is the buckle on my pants. The pants that haven't fit me for 3 weeks.
This is where we started. The little pokey thing is the buckle on my pants. The pants that haven't fit me for 3 weeks.
At 11 weeks exactly, this is where we are now:
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Clearly, I'm going to get bigger. But isn't this a little ridiculous for something the size of a lime? Also, 3 pounds gained! So where is the rest coming from?
It has been 4 days since that picture, and I swear, it is even bigger. I'm going to have to break down and tell work tomorrow or Monday. Wish me luck!
Monday, June 05, 2006
11 weeks!
Did I mention that I'm tired? Yesterday, I fell asleep while waiting for Josh to finish dinner. Then I fell asleep after dinner on the couch. After sleeping 11 hours the night before, and last night I tumbled into bed and could barely drag myself out after 8 hours of sleep. This whole baby incubating thing is kicking my ass! Who knew it was so hard to grow a person?
Thankfully, Josh has been my saving grace and has taken over all of the household tasks with no complaint. In fact, he is far better now that I'm practically incapacitated than he was before! Maybe I should stick to laying on the couch and moaning. It seems to get results. This weekend he did 4 loads of laundry, cleaned the house, made lunch and dinner, cleaned up after the dogs, and ironed all of the shirts I haven't worn since my mom visited in December -because that is how long it has been since anyone touched the iron.
The nausea is about the same. I have good days and bad days, and it is difficult for me to tell which one it will be until I'm up and moving. My first indication is whether I start gagging in the shower or while brushing my teeth; those are clearly bad days. Saturday, I felt like a normal person that didn't need to ingest chicken at regularly spaced 2 hour intervals! It was fantastic! Sunday came and I apparently was hit with the nausea stick during the night because I could barely move without gagging. But I am NOT complaining, I am merely posting the details for your enjoyment. I also post them in my belly book of memories, because I would like this child to know that when the male associate came into my office this morning, I gagged on the smell of his cologne. If this isn't love, I don't know what is.
I am also currently enjoying the fact that my belly is straining against the buttons on my shirt. This morning, I was pleased with the fact that I still fit into one pair of pre-pregnancy pants and button-down shirt. By nightfall and 3 meals later, however, I look like I am wearing clothing one size too small. Thank goodness people are too busy working to notice my humpty dumpty shape!
I tried for an hour to upload a belly picture for you, but it wouldn't come through. I'll make another attempt tonight, so that you can enjoy the ridiculosity that is my 11 week belly. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to look like this for another month or so, but my stomach hasn't been listening.
So life is good! Gestating is still going well, and I am taking your assurances to heart that at 13 weeks I'll feel fantastic. Don't try to tell me otherwise. I only have 12 days to go.
Thankfully, Josh has been my saving grace and has taken over all of the household tasks with no complaint. In fact, he is far better now that I'm practically incapacitated than he was before! Maybe I should stick to laying on the couch and moaning. It seems to get results. This weekend he did 4 loads of laundry, cleaned the house, made lunch and dinner, cleaned up after the dogs, and ironed all of the shirts I haven't worn since my mom visited in December -because that is how long it has been since anyone touched the iron.
The nausea is about the same. I have good days and bad days, and it is difficult for me to tell which one it will be until I'm up and moving. My first indication is whether I start gagging in the shower or while brushing my teeth; those are clearly bad days. Saturday, I felt like a normal person that didn't need to ingest chicken at regularly spaced 2 hour intervals! It was fantastic! Sunday came and I apparently was hit with the nausea stick during the night because I could barely move without gagging. But I am NOT complaining, I am merely posting the details for your enjoyment. I also post them in my belly book of memories, because I would like this child to know that when the male associate came into my office this morning, I gagged on the smell of his cologne. If this isn't love, I don't know what is.
I am also currently enjoying the fact that my belly is straining against the buttons on my shirt. This morning, I was pleased with the fact that I still fit into one pair of pre-pregnancy pants and button-down shirt. By nightfall and 3 meals later, however, I look like I am wearing clothing one size too small. Thank goodness people are too busy working to notice my humpty dumpty shape!
I tried for an hour to upload a belly picture for you, but it wouldn't come through. I'll make another attempt tonight, so that you can enjoy the ridiculosity that is my 11 week belly. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to look like this for another month or so, but my stomach hasn't been listening.
So life is good! Gestating is still going well, and I am taking your assurances to heart that at 13 weeks I'll feel fantastic. Don't try to tell me otherwise. I only have 12 days to go.
Friday, June 02, 2006
just call me grumps
I've noticed that for the past few weeks I've been rather, ummm, how shall I put it, moody?
It isn't anything outright obvious, but sometimes people do or say things that infuriate me. And when I look back on them, I realize that perhaps these are the hormones people are talking about.
For example, the other day, I was preparing for a visit by Tango to one of our neighborhood nursing homes. We do this once a month or so, with a group that certifies dogs to visit hospitals, nursing homes and rehabilitation centers. A couple of times, the visits have been cancelled due to a viral outbreak at the facilities, and I figured that it might be a good idea for me to alert the scheduler of the program that I was pregnant. That way, if she heard news about a facility, she could let me know in advance whether I should attend or not. I emailed her, and thought I conveyed in the email that it was early (about 8 or 9 weeks) and that we weren't telling people, but I wanted her to know for the above reasons. Apparently I wasn't clear, because when I went to the visit, one of the other dog handlers came up to me to let me know that she knew, and that she would "keep her fingers crossed for me, because it was sooooooo early, and she neeevvveeerrr would have told people so soon, but she'd keep her hopes up for me." All with this very sympathetic and condescending look on her face. I was stunned, to say the least, and didn't say much, except to assure her that all was proceeding well and that we'd already had an ultrasound and were very hopeful. But I spent the rest of the visit and the rest of the day stewing. I was INFURIATED that she would put a damper on my happy news! I wasn't sharing with the world at that point, but if I was, who was she to tell me when I should and shouldn't tell people?
Last night, it happened again. I finally climbed into bed around 11pm, when my nausea is at its absolute worst, and told Josh for the 30th night in a row, I'm sure, that I was so tired of feeling sick. When will I stop wanting to throw up all the time? And in his characteristically lighthearted manner, he told me that maybe sex would cure the nausea. I could "sex it off" and he was sure I'd feel better. Well, for future reference, this wasn't a good response. I was so angry that I literally couldn't speak, and shut off my light with a bang, while he chuckled at his own wit. I found myself wanting to scream at him, and it took all my will power to convince myself to wait until the light of day before telling him that I was mad. I did mutter a few "I'm sick of the jokes," but I fell asleep without making it into a big deal.
Since I don't normally get hopping mad at people without extreme provocation, I'm assuming this is all resulting from the hormones. Well, the hormones and feeling sick all the time. It takes its toll. I walk around in a good mood for most of the day, but then someone does something, and it sets me off.
Tell me this won't last for the whole pregnancy... will it? It isn't as if I react to the anger, but it is disconcerting, to say the least. I'm not going crazy, right? This is normal? RIGHT?
It isn't anything outright obvious, but sometimes people do or say things that infuriate me. And when I look back on them, I realize that perhaps these are the hormones people are talking about.
For example, the other day, I was preparing for a visit by Tango to one of our neighborhood nursing homes. We do this once a month or so, with a group that certifies dogs to visit hospitals, nursing homes and rehabilitation centers. A couple of times, the visits have been cancelled due to a viral outbreak at the facilities, and I figured that it might be a good idea for me to alert the scheduler of the program that I was pregnant. That way, if she heard news about a facility, she could let me know in advance whether I should attend or not. I emailed her, and thought I conveyed in the email that it was early (about 8 or 9 weeks) and that we weren't telling people, but I wanted her to know for the above reasons. Apparently I wasn't clear, because when I went to the visit, one of the other dog handlers came up to me to let me know that she knew, and that she would "keep her fingers crossed for me, because it was sooooooo early, and she neeevvveeerrr would have told people so soon, but she'd keep her hopes up for me." All with this very sympathetic and condescending look on her face. I was stunned, to say the least, and didn't say much, except to assure her that all was proceeding well and that we'd already had an ultrasound and were very hopeful. But I spent the rest of the visit and the rest of the day stewing. I was INFURIATED that she would put a damper on my happy news! I wasn't sharing with the world at that point, but if I was, who was she to tell me when I should and shouldn't tell people?
Last night, it happened again. I finally climbed into bed around 11pm, when my nausea is at its absolute worst, and told Josh for the 30th night in a row, I'm sure, that I was so tired of feeling sick. When will I stop wanting to throw up all the time? And in his characteristically lighthearted manner, he told me that maybe sex would cure the nausea. I could "sex it off" and he was sure I'd feel better. Well, for future reference, this wasn't a good response. I was so angry that I literally couldn't speak, and shut off my light with a bang, while he chuckled at his own wit. I found myself wanting to scream at him, and it took all my will power to convince myself to wait until the light of day before telling him that I was mad. I did mutter a few "I'm sick of the jokes," but I fell asleep without making it into a big deal.
Since I don't normally get hopping mad at people without extreme provocation, I'm assuming this is all resulting from the hormones. Well, the hormones and feeling sick all the time. It takes its toll. I walk around in a good mood for most of the day, but then someone does something, and it sets me off.
Tell me this won't last for the whole pregnancy... will it? It isn't as if I react to the anger, but it is disconcerting, to say the least. I'm not going crazy, right? This is normal? RIGHT?
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