One more thing to enjoy

1)Swollen ankles and feet.
2)Painful plantar fasciitis in both feet.
3)Swollen, numb and tingling hands.
4)Carpal tunnel in both hands.

and now ... adding your fave and mine to the list...

5) Melasma!!! Yes, that lovely "mask of pregnancy" has made its appearance. *sigh*.

Anything else? I will add begrudgingly that the compression stockings work well (other than causing extremely stinky feet) and the braces are finally allowing me a decent night's sleep.

On the good front, I *think* I've felt the baby. Something that felt like palpitations in my stomach and I think I finally know what they mean by "flutters". It hasn't happened frequently but it did happen once with my morning coffee so I figure the kid has wised up to caffeine. That's my boy.

My level II ultrasound is on Monday, but Beaver Girl's writeup about her less than lovely experience has left me a tad hesitant. I'm hoping it goes well - it's something I've been looking forward to on a positive note, rather than the "one more hurdle" perspective.

Breach of Warranty decided to tag me with a meme or two. While I'm lousy at this sort of thing, I decided for once to be a good sport. Just please don't send me chain emails telling me how much good luck I'll have if I only send it to ten more people, or how Bill Gates wants to send me $1000 bucks for using Win95. Or whatever. Yes, I'm grumpy ... whatever gave that away? You would be too if you had a teenager who kept sighing like Darth Vader (he sure doesn't like being called that... teehee!!) Ok, here goes ...

TAG ONE:
Finish the four bookish statements and pass it on.

1) Total number of books owned - Wow. Loads. I've had to leave books behind over the years and that broke my heart. I have no idea how many I own now. Not enough.
2) Last book I bought (2)- ermmm Baby Bargains. And I bought a whole bunch of baby books at a garage sale recently ... so ...Goodnight Moon? Also, "I, Claudius" and some stuff by Gabriel Garcia Marquez that I haven't had a chance to look at yet.
3) Last book I read (2) - ermmm ... Baby Bargains. And Kushiel's Dart.
4) 5 books that mean a lot to me - Only 5?? This is hard. Brideshead Revisited. Maus I & II. Like Water for Chocolate. The Prophet. One Hundred Years of Solitude.


Pick five of the lives below and write about them. Then add one of your own and pass it on. - OK - me breaking in here to say that I'm changing the language from "if I could be" to ... "if I was" because I could be anything if I really wanted to be. Well, except for a mathematician. Yeah, and a host of other things but we're not going to bring that up, are we? And yes, this is going to be cheesy, I just know it. You're forewarned.

IF I WERE A (better)MUSICIAN: I'd make music that mattered. Not that just sounded good in the moment, or that was marketable. But music that people could really dig into and understand. And if I was a singer with a phenomenal voice, I'd DO something with it, not squander it on singing crap.

IF I WERE A POLITICIAN: I'd help create a national healthcare system for all. I'd help create a country where profit and lucre were not the most important things but rather an emphasis on society, science and humanity. In other words, I'd try and one-up Canada.

IF I WERE A SCIENTIST: I'd work to create a cure for cancer, infertility and auto-immune diseases with a particular emphasis on helping kids(who should never have to suffer).

IF I WERE A LIBRARIAN: I'd spend most of the day hiding in the stacks, reading. And when I absolutely had to come out, I'd try and share my joy and love of reading with kids who just don't get it ... yet.


IF I WERE A GARDENER: what do you MEAN, if I "were"?? I AM a gardener, damnit!! Haven't you seen the pics? I'll have you know that at last count there were 5 tomatoes coming up!! FIVE!! Hmmph. I won't even mention the peppers and carrots.

The rest of the list for those who accept this mission is: SCIENTIST, FARMER, MUSICIAN, DOCTOR, PAINTER, GARDENER, MISSIONARY, CHEF, ARCHAEOLOGIST, ARCHITECT, LINGUIST, PSYCHOLOGIST, LIBRARIAN, ATHLETE, LAWYER, INNKEEPER, PROFESSOR, WRITER, LLAMA-RIDER, BONNIE PIRATE, SERVICE MEMBER, BUSINESS OWNER, ACTOR, AGENT, VIDEO GAME DESIGNER, PHOTOGRAPHER, CIRCUS PERFORMER, SPY, FASHION DESIGNER, HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT AGAIN, MODEL, POLITICIAN, SERIAL KILLER, HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR, MOVIE PRODUCER OR ACUPUNCTURIST.
I'm adding "ASTRONAUT".

Tag, you're it.

The ongoing saga of swelling

The weekend came and went and with it my sanity ... you see, every year John and I go to the NASCAR race in Dover DE. This year was no exception - we discussed it beforehand and I figured I wouldn't be going next year ... and probably not the year after that ... or after that. Etc. I enjoy the race a lot and didn't want to miss out on it and on being with our friends. I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking.

Actually, it's pretty much of a guy's day out - I'm the only woman in the group of five but we chill well together. It helped that my very first time, my Canadian self looked aghast at the amount of Confederate flags flying and asked innocently "Is that legal??". The guys remind me of this frequently and usually after their 5th or 6th beer.

Anyway, John and I decided as long as I stayed off my feet as much as possible, it would probably be ok. What we didn't realize - because we're not clairvoyant and the Weather Channel is screwed - is that it was going to be 90+ degrees out there. Factor in the bleachers, the 28th row in the middle section, no shade and a humidity level that had been steadily rising and I found myself in the "yowza, this is not fun" factor. Fortunately we were near an exit that led to a walkway and I could sit there and chill. Literally.

I am obviously pregnant, I guess. I got many pitying looks as I gasped my way up the never-ending stairs, holding my belly. Yes, I held my belly but I didn't rub it. I swear. A couple of EMS people looked at me sternly as I made my way past them, daring me to use their services. I decided that Dover DE was probably not a good place to be in the L&D ward so I drank water like it was going out of style. Of course, that meant going to the bathroom ... some 150 steps below. And then coming back up. And again. Oy.

At yet another bathroom break, John decided to come with me and we headed downstairs. I didn't want to subject the baby and my very white skin to the 400 laps of sunshine and decibels, so John and I headed to the midway to check out merchandise. We ended up standing in the lemonade line for 30 minutes, I kid you not, and although the lemonade was FOUR DOLLARS!!!!!! it was damned good. Did I mention that the lemonade was FOUR DOLLARS????? Jesus H Murphy.

I kept close tabs on intake/output and was glad to see my urine remained pale. Yes, I'm such a nurse, what can I say? But it was the only way to measure possible dehydration. Unfortunately by the end of the day, the oppressive heat had caused my ankles to swell tremendously. It wasn't helped much by working on my feet the next day, and between that and the awful pain in my feet and hands, I called my OB late yesterday afternoon and they decided they wanted to see me the next day.

I saw him today - one I hadn't seen before. I'll call him Dr Young because he looked only slightly older than Doogie Houser but he was good and had a nice bedside manner. My pressure is good, no proteinuria, no glucosuria. As for the hands - he tapped my wrist and I nearly went through the roof. Definite carpal tunnel on the right, well on its way on the left. Splints recommended and monitoring via my family doc - which I don't really have. Oops.
As for the ankles and feet - compression stockings and elevate when possible. Keep up the fluid intake. He said resignedly "I doubt you'll see it getting much better over the next few months. As for the carpal tunnel, they don't like operating on pregnant women, but let's see what happens". Maybe I should call him Dr Positive. After all, he didn't even mention my weight gain...

Off I went to the W-mart where I picked up some compression stockings and a couple of wrist splints - far cheaper than CVS. I called John and told him and he, nice man that he is, expressed deep concern while snorting with laughter at the thought of me wearing "old lady stockings". Uh-huh. We'll see who'll be laughing later tonight.

As a side note, I will mention I have now winnowed out some of the watermelons (*SOB*)and lettuce and all the tomatoes are caged. I also put up some form of cage/trellis between the squash/cucs and the rest of the garden. Hopefully that will work and prevent them from taking over. Did I mention that the lemonade at the race was FOUR DOLLARS?????

Oh ... and I heard my son's (!!) heartbeat today. I've been worried because I haven't felt anything recognizable as "movement" and I am 19+ weeks. *whew*. I was having DBTs. I wonder if they ever go away completely.


DBTs- also known as "Dead Baby Thoughts" in the infertile blogosphere.

Maybe someday soon

I went out after work to get a body pillow - I'm hardly sleeping these days because 1) I can't breathe 2) I'm fat and 3)my carpal tunnel (in both hands) is killing me. Not to mention the hip pain.

One of the huge bath stores had a body pillow and with their 20% off coupon, I was happy at my purchase. I decided to stop at Targez to check out their selection of wrist braces as the CVS wanted 25.99 ... for ONE. They were all out.

Some voice of Satan coerced me into going to the baby and infant area ... the Classic Pooh aisle. I looked. I choked back tears. I checked out some playpens or whatever they're called now. I wandered back down the aisle and there was a beautiful little Pooh music pull thingie with Pooh sitting inside a baby blue soft jar labeled "hunny".

I sat in the car crying, listening to the soft music play. It's been so long in coming, we've gone through so much. I never ever thought we would get this far. I can't wait to play this for you, my sweet baby boy, as I rock you to sleep.

Another stressor gone and more garden p0rn

My court case has finally gone a step further and it's a good one. You see, about 3 years ago I was in a car accident. I was sitting in my car at a red light, minding my own business when someone hit the car behind me who then whacked me. They didn't even hit me that hard but it was enough to screw up my neck and back.
I was coming back from a company picnic for the Big Hospital at the time - I was actually showing one of the other nurses the way out of B-more to route 95.

The next day I could barely move. I called my doc and got seen immediately, xrays, the whole shmear - and started physiotherapy, which lasted 2-3 months. I stopped because I was feeling better. A couple of weeks later, I woke up and couldn't move again. When I tried to resume seeing the physiotherapist, I was told I had used up my PIP - which basically means any monies for my care that would be directed my way via the insurance company. I was outraged. After all, I was truly the innocent party here. So I called a lawyer.

The damage to my car had been minimal which made some lawyers balk at taking my case but one did - and he tied it into the company picnic and claimed it against Worker's Comp - and we won. I got my lost wages (a couple of days worth) and my medical bills covered. Today we went to court to establish "permanency" or basically see what degree of disability I'll be carrying around for life. Charming, huh?

Our doctor had said 20% disability upon examining me. Their doctor had said 0%. Just as I was about to go testify, the Big Hospital's lawyer came up and offered us 10% disability. We took it. It saved me from testifying (which I was prepared to do, I did well last time and other than nerves, felt comfortable) which is better for when my lawyer goes after the third party, ie, the one that started it all.

He needs to get paid, after all.

I agreed to the 10% because this was never about me getting money. All I really wanted was treatment and to have my expenses for treatment covered. But the stupid way the system works here made it necessary to involve lawyers and increase the costs for everyone.

Now it looks like everyone is going to get money except for me, likely. I may get a couple of grand from Worker's Comp, which is fine and would come in extremely handy and I am extremely grateful. But the money we win from insurance - I'll probably never see much of that. It'll mostly go to lawyers.

Anyway, I came back from court quite tired. The exterminators are here ... AGAIN ... because of damned carpenter ants. Only this time they found termites, too. *sigh*. Lovely. It's in a very limited area, but still.

I lay down for a nap ... I was just drifting off ...the buzzsaw started from across the street where they're putting up siding. I toss. I turn. It stops. I start to fall asleep. The phone rings. I try to ignore it. Start to drift off again. The saw starts. I groan and try to ignore the numbness in my hands and lie on my left like a good girl. The saw stops. I start to fall asleep. The phone rings... and here I am. Tired. Since I've been up, neither has the phone rang nor has the saw started up again...but I know if I even try and close my eyes ... so here I am.

Oh ... and I saw my first tomato!! I am so excited. Yeah, I'm strange that way. And guess what - just now as I went to take pictures of said tomato for you, my readers ... I saw another one! Now you shall be bombarded with garden pics. Because I just realized that in an 8x11 space I have the following: 17(!!) tomato plants, 3 cucs, 3 squash, a bunch of watermelon (which I will thin directly) 4 onion plants, numerous carrots and a bunch of lettuce. Did I mention the eggplant?

Oops. Someone was a tad over-reaching.




The wilderness that is my garden. I am very afraid.




First tomato. I am so proud!




Second tomato! I think it has tomato envy - look, it's hiding.
Middle children can be like that.


carrots and an onion, 2 bits.

Far too many carrots. Notice them cavorting with an escaped onion. The hussies.


Watermelons...

I have barely enough room there for ONE watermelon plant. But thinning them is killing me. I heart watermelon. *sigh*.


squash and cucs.

They are taking over in an insidious kind of way. I have to trellis them. Or something.


Peppers!

What more need be said?


lettuce

Far too many in too small a space. Ack.


onions

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with them or when they're ready other than "when the green shoots are droopy". No clue.


An extremely cute man

Note the very cute tuchas. Yum.

The results are in!

I thought I had it all under control. I hadn't panicked, hadn't gotten stressed. I called last Friday for results but was told it was too soon. I hardly thought about it over the long weekend. I promised myself I wouldn't call Tuesday either, because of said long weekend.

But I haven't been sleeping well. The numbness and tingling in my hands wakes me at night, I toss and turn and can't get comfortable. Thoughts have been racing through my mind - about everything and anything but not the amnio. Nosireebob, anything but. It's only been 10 days, after all.

Today I awoke grumpy. The sleeplessness has really been getting to me and I don't handle sleep deprivation well (yeah yeah, I know I have lots to look forward to). To top it off, the coffee maker was misbehaving and Jr was in one of his loveliest sullen moods - I guess 25 minute showers are a hardship. Anyway, I got to work only to find that my manager had given me the heaviest case load of anyone. By far. Yeah, always a nice thing to do to the pregnant girl with the swollen ankles. I said nothing. It's really just not worth it. Not yet, anyway. I'm honestly not asking for special treatment - just consideration.

I busied myself with work. At lunch time, I went searching for the phone number and finally called around 2. I left a message on the genetic counselor's voice mail. Around 4, I called again. Left a message with the secretary. By 4:30 I gave up and figured ... ah, not today. Guess the results weren't in yet.

At 4:45 the office phone rang. My heart stopped as I was called to the phone. It was the counselor. Without hesitation she told me "Your results are fine. All the chromosomes are normal, everything is normal. Your spina bifida test was also well within normal range." I started to cry, scaring the other nurses who knew pretty much what this must be about ... eventually managed to give them the thumbs up that all was well. I don't remember much else the GC said, but she reassured me that the baby is indeed a boy. I felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

A boy. A healthy, normal, sweet baby boy. I called John and told him through my tears ... our wonderful, healthy son.

I can finally relax a bit and enjoy this ... finally. I can plan ... finally. I can truly dream now ... because this dream may be coming true after all.

Just can't wait

18 weeks. Wow. I'm amazed and enthralled at the changes I'm going through. When I put on clothes, it's no longer "Hey, look at the pudgy chick!" it's "that woman is pregnant". John is delighted and overjoyed at my changing body, as am I. It's just very very cool.

And strange - Friday at work I looked down as I was walking towards my procedure room and for the first time, I could see how my stomach was protruding a bit. It's really there ... or should I say "he's" really there.

I haven't felt movement yet, not that I'm able to discern. I did press my hand over my abdomen earlier and thought I felt something, so did John ... but nothing that makes me go "yeah, I just felt my son move". I can't wait.

I'm hungry all the damned time suddenly. Which is ok, I'm trying to be careful but it's hard. Especially when I'm limited in food choices; this morning I woke up with sausages for fingers and pudgy feet because I forgot and ate hotdogs last night. Bad low salt girl, bad! I'm drinking water today but it's way more difficult at home for some reason.

I forgot to mention that John and I went garage-sale-ing during the big town days. It seems the entire town puts out crap for sale and you pretty much go from place to place. It was the weekend after the amnio, so I was definitely taking it easy, but I scored some good stuff. Yes, I broke down and bought baby stuff - but it's in storage. It's not going anywhere near The Room.

So ... brand new-appearing Boppy = $3
Brand new-appearing Snugli = $3
Bassinet and changing table = $20
Over 30 books, including Pooh, Curious George, Seuss and Goodnight Moon = Priceless.

Yes, books, my friends. I bought so many kids books ... in fact, that was ALL I was going to buy until I saw the Boppy and Snugli. John was the bassinet and changing table advocate. I just snapped up books everywhere I went. Cloth books, picture books, pop-up books, books for toddlers, books of all sorts and varieties. This child is going to be read to, read with and showered in books and learning.

Books were my escape when I was a kid - I was quiet and shy - it wasn't for many years that they figured out I had a hearing problem. I read constantly - I devoured everything. It didn't matter. If I was out of reading material, I'd read the encyclopedia. Long after bed-time, my parents would find my light on and I'd be reading under the covers, hoping to elude discovery. Books were - and are - my magic. I can read a book about a ferocious rainstorm and when I stop, wonder how it is that the sun is shining outside.

I want my son to have that magic, to understand that books can be best friends and ports in a storm. And even though I am petrified deep inside about raising an infant and all that parenting entails, I still can't wait till I get to show him how much beauty there is in this world. I honestly just can't wait. How is it that I love him so much already?

"Some of my best friends are women"

I've come to the conclusion that I really will never figure women out. Don't get me wrong - I love women and some of my best friends are women, which is a change from when I was younger when I had no women friends. I value women, their friendships and insight, their wisdom.
But the cattiness, the hormones, the back stabbing, the gossiping - I'd give that up in a heartbeat. Men don't seem to interact that way and I'm not sure why that is.

I'm a very direct and in some ways (some would say many ways!) a simple person. Tell me what you want, tell me what you need. Don't pussyfoot around it. Don't pretty it and hint (I guess I'm rather guy-like that way). Tell me "Kinneret, when you did X it really bothered me and here's why". Don't keep smiling at me as if all is well and nothing is between us, because that's passive-aggressive crap, my friends.
And I hate passive-aggressive. My mother was/is a pro at it and I loathe it.

It's because of that stuff that I stay away from women's groups, that I stayed away from girl things in my teens and even in elementary school. This probably accounts for my inept social skills. The cliques, the hair, the giggling, the "you don't fit in" stuff, the "it's all about me" crap that excludes others. It's why I was hesitant to join a ttc bulletin board. I joined nonetheless because I was lonely and needing support while John and I were going through shit.

And then I became pregnant and suddenly ... everything changed. The joy of others in our BFP quickly vanished in face of their own ttc needs, which makes complete sense. Being a subfertile/infertile, I'm pretty sensitive to others ttc. I try not to be in your face, don't chatter about baby stuff, only went to this board when I truly needed the support of others, such as my fear of the amnio, or to share joy at the knowledge that I am carrying a much-loved and desired child, a baby boy. And yet it seems that was too much for some to handle.

I realize that for some ttc, it's just too much to deal with pregnant folk. It's too painful, too much of a reminder of one's own troubles, too in your face.
It was never that way for me, in truth. Sure, working with a pregnant woman right after my miscarriage was at times damned hard and painful, but it never abated my joy for her. I'm far from a paragon of virtue, folks .. this is just the way I am. I have my many faults and foibles in many arenas but joy in other's joy? It's right here.

But if you're on a forum such as I was, and it's not working for you ... SAY SOMETHING!! Say "hey gang, we're all happy for you and we know you want to share stuff with us - but we can't deal right now. It's not personal". Don't expect me - and others - to be mind readers. We're not. And yes, maybe we're too absorbed in our own stuff - it happens. We're all on different paths. Don't shut us out and figure it will make us leave. Don't make it personal. And please ... please ... have the decency to be honest with yourself about your own motivations. I can handle you not being honest with me ... but at least be honest with yourself.

I will never understand the way women communicate. I hope this new generation is learning to do a better job of it than ours has.

A side note to those of you wondering ... this did not happen on the wonderful Resolve boards but another site.

Names, dates and jobs

Thank you all for your concern and thoughts about my fall, expressed here and on the Resolve boards. I appreciate it greatly. The baby is fine.
I saw my OB on Tuesday and heard the heartbeat. He even said the baby was moving - I'll take his word for it because I still can't feel anything, no matter how I try. This may sound terribly lame but ... I just want to feel him (ack! him!!) move. Maybe it will make this more real somehow. Right now when I see my growing belly, all I think is "fat girl". *sigh*

Something very lovely happened at work yesterday. One of the doctors and I had previously discussed Hebrew baby names and my need for a book that details them. I want something more modern, not necessarily biblical, which makes it more difficult. A different doc had given me their baby name book because they were done with it but it didn't include my name, even though it had a section for Hebrew names, even though it had a section of "popular and unusual names". Anyway, long story long, the first doc had said he may stop by the Jewish book store in Wheaton. I told him if he found anything to just let me know how much it cost, I'd reimburse him.

So ... yesterday he comes up to me and hands me a wrapped gift. I was blown away - being me, I had completely forgotten about our conversation and stared at him blankly till he told me to open it. I rip it open and there it was ... "The complete book of Hebrew baby names". I started to cry. He had even written a lovely dedication in Hebrew. Small gestures that restore your faith in humanity, I tell you. This particular doc and his wife went through multiple losses before finally having their children - he understands. I think it shows that you never forget your sorrows, not completely - but you never forget the joy in overcoming, either.

I perused it thoroughly yesterday, so did John. We have conflicting ideas on good names. Yikes. At least we still have some time. There is one name I really like, but I don't think he cares for ...

And on other parenting fronts, Jr was asked out on his first date by a young lady in his Spanish class! I am so excited for him. Do you remember the first time you were asked out? It's a big deal.
They've been spending mucho time on the phone ... her idea of a good first date is a pool hall somewhere - we are much more keen and insistent on a movie, something more traditional. We've asked him to talk to her about it but ... no dice yet. We'd just like them to be in a more monitored situation. "Pool hall" and "16 year olds" - well, it makes me think "unsafe" thoughts.
We've never met the young lady - all we know is her name and that she is a bit of a class clown. Also, she asked him out - while I realize we live in different times than when I was trouble a 16 year old, I just hope she's not a wild child. My stepson is fairly meek and I can see him being led astray easily in the quest for popularity. I would like to meet her before their first date.

Thoughts? Opinions? Ideas? What do my readers think?

Work is work. I'm not so impressed with my boss these days. I'm not asking for special treatment - I never have. But putting me in a physically demanding room when she knew I had fallen pretty hard the day before - well, let me just say that she wouldn't have done that with the other pregnant woman a little while ago. Of course, we all know that the world is out to get me, so there.

Speaking of which, I've definitely noticed a change in one of the women I work with. She has gone through infertility stuff - she doesn't talk about it a lot, it's my impression from what she said that she has physical reasons why she couldn't get pregnant. She's now 42 or so and separated from her husband for a couple of years. It's painful for her - obviously. None of us who have experienced the trials and tribulations of infertility would ever say otherwise. But her behaviour towards me as changed. I've gotten a lot of unwarranted "well, at least you ARE pregnant" type comments. She's been a touch hostile to me. It's just very strange, seeing how she didn't treat the other pregnant woman that way. Of course, the other pregnant woman didn't have a lot of the complications I've had, nor did she suffer from infertility. It's also strange because this woman may be adopting this summer, it's very up in the air but - it's possible.

I dunno. It's possible that I may be hallucinatory, but I don't think so. She's definitely cooler to me these days. And it makes me sad.

I'm also starting to think seriously about becoming an infertility RN. While I didn't go through the gamut of treatments than many of the sisterhood did, I think I have some good perspective. And I'm a good nurse. It wouldn't happen till after the baby is born, but ... it interests me a whole hell of a lot more than colonscopies. There ya go. Thoughts, opinions, ideas on becoming an IF nurse?

Let's hear from my reader!

Rain, rain, go the f*** away

I'm in a delightful mood, can't you tell? I'm tres grumpy. It's probably the rain and the cool weather - we're having an abnormally cool May and it seems like its been raining forever. I don't know how Oregonians and Washingtonians do it.

To add insult to injury, the rain has contributed to injuries in the Chaos household. There is was a wooden ramp that leads out of the garage towards the back yard and it gets slippery when wet and is usually fairly slick. I'm usually quite careful when traversing it but yesterday in my rush to get out and help John with the all-important placement of the tomato cages, I slipped. And fell. Hard. On my back and side.

Which in turn upset John a great deal - I've never seen him run that fast EVER. Once he helped me up and we determined I was relatively unscathed, the ramp was history. Before long I heard loud sounds of axe on wood - we were going to take it down anyway because of the constant slipperiness. The ramp is no more. In the process, John injured his hand, a nice deep gash on the palm. Yay.

I called the OB because the nice women on the Resolve board advised me to and the doc called me back pronto - it was Dr Shitty, but she was nice for once. She told me to take it easy, put my feet up and call her back if any cramping,spotting or fluid showed up. Now some fluid did expel when I fell, but ... yeah, it was pee. I'm such an elegant faller.

I'm sore today and pretty stiff. And once I got up at 0:mygodit'searly and traveled the requisite 75 minutes to work of what should be a 35 minute drive in the fucking pouring rain, I found out that I wasn't scheduled to work today, because it was originally supposed to be my day off and although I changed it so I could have Thursday off because of a shitload of appointments, she still kept me off the schedule for today. Only she neglected to mention that. So yeah, I'm fucking grumpy. And sore. And stiff. And I'm going to try and change my OB appointment to today from Thursday, if I can. And while I'm ranting, can I just say that Maryland drivers SUCK?? 2 concepts, people ... "following distance" and "passing lane". Read up on it, would you?

Ah good, they can fit me in at the Damascus office to see my primary OB. Done deal. I'm feeling very emotional today. It's a good day to be home.

Life can be so cruel

Some days are hard. I remember reading about Cecily's terrible loss of her twins from preeclampsia at 20 weeks. It broke my heart. Late losses are particularly awful. Well, today one of the girls I "know" from the Resolve boards posted that she lost her twins at 22-23 weeks because of contractions and incompetent cervix. This is AFTER she lost a son at 21 weeks last year. Her grief is unimaginable. What do you say to someone who has suffered such terrible losses other than "I'm sorry. I'm here if you need a shoulder"? What can you say that is meaningful? So very little.

I don't understand why good people need to suffer so in quest of a child to love. It makes you shake your fist at the sky and truly wonder if there is a supreme being up there and if he is - well, maybe it's time he got his head out of his ass.
If this is offensive to anyone - I am angry and sad and terrified. For her and for me, too. For all of us who have suffered loss before. Because this shouldn't happen, and somehow it still does, even now in 2005.

Amnio update

Well, the phone calls went back and forth for some time until I finally spoke to a nice doctor at the OBs early in the afternoon. Her perspective was as follows: "all our bloodwork for you shows you as Rh+. I don't think you need the Rhogam. BUT ... it can't hurt you to get it and if for some strange reason you do need it (ie something we're missing), well, it makes more sense for you to get it than not."

So, off John and I went back to Rockville, this time to the hospital (right next door to where we had been earlier than morning). Should I add that it was pouring rain? And should I add that because of the goddamned insurance companies, you can't get the shot in the doc's office anymore, you have to go to the hospital because they won't reimburse the docs? And should I tell you about how the hospital lab is considered "out of network"? GRRRRRRRRR. Anyway.

We got there around 1:30. They had to draw my blood again and test it. It came back Rh positive but the doc has said "get it anyway" so then I had to wait till 4:15 for someone to give me a needle in the ass. Delightful. It's done. I am going to have to try and contact the hospital in Canada where I was originally diagnosed and see if they have something they can send me. I know I'm not that kind of crazy.

In the meantime, my mother and father called and are dancing on the rooftops about our news. My mother called my sister and told her, so we felt obligated to call and tell the rest of my siblings the news. We *were* going to keep it to ourselves, you know. But I guess the four of you- my faithful readers- deserve to know too. Don't grumble if there are more than four of you. Only four or so of you ever comment so I don't know if anyone else reads this!! Comment! For pete's sake, say hi! You don't have to write something eloquent, just say hi! And then I'll up the count of my faithful readers, ok?

But until then.

I should tell you.

I suppose.

I mean, you come here and read regularly.

You've laughed and cried and sworn with me - well, except for Donnie who doesn't swear. But I digress.

I know you're curious about the gender.

You're really sure you want to know?

The ultrasound tech asked me and John "do you want to know?". John left it up to me ... I finally caved and said "ok".

It's


a


You sure you want to know this?

I mean, really.

OK OK OK.

It's



a





BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He was facing downwards and not in the most helpful position for a 3D but Dr High Risk did his best. Being my flesh and blood, you know he's not going to be cooperative. Here is ... our son. Yowza. Our son. Wow. I may be having a baby or something.



our son

Amniocentesis Day

It went well. I mean, it's not high on my list of "fun things to do at the doctor's office" but it didn't hurt - more like weird pressure and a pinch. Not like HSG pain/discomfort which is more like "come here and let me punch you".
Dr High Risk was great and totally reassuring, talked to me the entire time (the actual needle stick took about 1 minute). Nothing to be afraid of, although I couldn't watch. I just took deep breaths and broke John's hand, poor man - mostly out of nerves.

Seeing the baby on ultrasound was well worth it all. The baby is measuring 17 weeks and 3 days ...a week ahead, that over-achiever. I figure it's due to plentiful maternal intake. Ahem.

But, my life is never easy. Right now I am waiting to find out what we're doing about a possible Rhogam injection. It seems that there's some question as to whether I'm O negative or not.

Let me 'splain.

Way back in the 90's, I had an ectopic pregnancy. After emergency surgery, an RN came into my room and informed me that they were adding me to the negative blood bank. I was rather surprised and told her they had it wrong, I was O+. I had been in the military, etc ... always been classified as O+. We argued back and forth and finally decided the best thing to do was do another blood sample. O-. No ifs ands or buts.

Since then, I've always told people I'm O-. I have something called a weak D, a mixture of rhesus (the - or + part), so I have both. Here's a link about weak D if you're into reading it. It gave me a bit of a headache.

When I miscarried in December, I was treated with Rhogam during my D&C. However, recent bloodwork has shown me to be Rh+ with no antibodies, so said the ultrasound tech as she prepped me for the procedure. After going back and forth, after the emotional highlights of the procedure, I was so verklempt that I forgot to remind them about the Rhogam. I remembered while eating breakfast with hubby at the Double T Diner. I called, panicked.

Dr High Risk (via his RN) said that because a recent blood test showed me as O + with no antibodies, he can't treat me for Rh disease. Which makes sense. He also recommended that I call my OB and sort it out with them, perhaps they had documentation which showed something different, perhaps they would send me to the hospital for stat blood testing. I did and am waiting for a call back from their doctor, who isn't in the nearby office today. Now those of you who've been following at home know that the only reason Dr Delivery's office thinks I'm O- is because I told Dr Shitty so. They had me listed as O+.

In the meantime - if you're still reading AND following - I called Dr Baby's office and spoke with my old RN there who checked my chart to see what documentation they had to support giving me Rhogam after the D&C. It seems that they didn't, they did it prophylactically based on my telling them I was Rh-.
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

So, I'm waiting. John is snoozing on the couch. I'm on shpilkes, to put it mildly. I may have to go ahead and play some Diablo.

Oh, and we found out the baby's gender. Heh.

Ayin Hara

I asked a simple question on the Resolve "Pregnancy after Infertility" board and I was astonished at the sheer quantity (and quality)of response.

My question was : "Jewish women: are you having a baby shower? Decorating your nursery?"

For those not in the know, there is a strong taboo in Jewish tradition against bringing anything into the house meant for not-yet-born baby. It's said that this could attract dark spirits, or the "evil eye".

This is very much the case with the older generation and is very strong amongst the Conservative/Orthodox streams of Judaism as well. I consider myself Reform/Reconstructionist (as is my family) but old habits die hard. I know that my sisters never had a shower. I remember my mother being horrified that my long-since-ex sister-in-law had a shower.

So, the wonderful women of the Resolve board answered my call, with answers ranging from "no, nothing is entering my house till the baby arrives IN the house" to "a little of this, a little of that" to "I'm decorating and having showers, too" and everything in between. It's always fascinating to me to see how beautiful and diverse Judaism is. I could never imagine being a different religion/spirituality. There is so much room for individuality. And I say that as a relatively secular person - and maybe that's why. But I digress.

As for me, while dreams of Pooh bear dance in my head, the farthest I've gotten in planning the nursery third bedroom is to think "Ok, I need to prime this room". Something stops me from going further. And the same with baby clothes/furniture/anything. I have bought nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. I've surprised myself with my own reticence.

Now given, I am only 4 months along ... but something has stopped me in my tracks while hanging out at the nearest Targez. I've bought for friends, I've bought for co-worker's daughters whom I've never met. But not so much as a sock has entered my house.

I found this interesting article Jewish Life Cycle/Rituals: To Shower or Not. As I read through, a couple of paragraphs in particular made me catch my breath:

"Yet there are many in the observant community who will not buy so much as a sock. Some say that the tradition of shunning the baby shower is not just ancient superstition: it serves a deeper communal need.

It's not just about the couple having the baby, they say. It's about all the other couples that can't. Rabbi Jay Yaacov Schwartz and his late wife wrestled with infertility for years before adopting. When they did begin the adoption process, "we didn't even tell people when we had an adoptive opportunity, because we were afraid of ayin hara -- of bad energy," said the rabbi, a spiritual leader at the Orthodox synagogue Young Israel of Oceanside in New York.

Rabbi Schwartz was not literally afraid of demons. He feared waking the cosmic wheels of action and reaction that he believes return to us just what we give out. In this case, he knew that his happiness might cause pain for some childless couple, and their unhappiness would some day come back to bite him."

I have never considered myself particularly superstitious, but I have found out that I do believe in those "cosmic wheels of action and reaction". Or in modern terms "what goes around, comes around".

So I wait. I am not sure how long I'll wait. Perhaps tomorrow I'll see the cutest little outfit and will *have* to buy it. I don't know. I just don't want to tempt the ayin hara. Maybe that is also the reason for my ambivalence about finding out the gender. I don't know.

Call me superstitious. Go ahead. I hate feeling like I'm still living in Fear but it seems that he's still on the playground, laughing.

Tree trunks no more

I'm happy to report that my swollen ankles are now human size again. Even better than that, they're *my* size. They'd better be, with me drinking 4-5 liters of water a day. Yeesh. For those who don't know, 2 liters equals 8 glasses. Yeah. So there.

Not only have I been water-virtuous, I've also not even so much as looked at the yummy and delicious jar(*sob*) of pickled tomatoes inhabiting my refrigerator. I have had a touch of feta, but just a touch and I have limited my intake of pepperoncinis. If only you knew the level of sacrifice, if only you knew.

Last night a few of the nurses went out to Carrabas for dinner, spouses included. It was nice and the food is always decent. You'll be delighted to know that I actually told the poor waiter than my broccoli was too salty. I ate plain steamed broccoli with my salmon instead. I'm still waiting for my reward. Hmmph. No carbs either, I cut out their most wonderful mashed potatoes. Yes, I'm a good girl, darnit. And if my scale is true, I've gained no weight since my last OB appointment. So there, Dr Shitty. Neener neener.
One of the nurses had her 5 week old granddaughter with her ... so adorable. I got to hold and feed her and welled up with tears as John looked at me. I'm such a sap.

The vegetable garden looks great. Evil bunny has taken to the verbenas I planted at the end of our driveway instead of our fenced off veggies-to-be. I see some germination amongst the lettuce seeds I sowed, but nothing from the carrots or watermelons. I remain hopeful. If nothing else, I will pick up some watermelon plants from the nursery I visited last week - they told me they'd be out this coming week.

I sent my mom a picture of my belly at 15 weeks. I took pics at 13 weeks and 15 weeks, assuming there would be not much of a change. Surprise! Um ... yeah, there's a definite change. Yikes. About 10 minutes after I sent it, my mom called me, all excited and screeching about how I "have that look". I'm glad she's getting excited. I am too, although it alternates with terrified. What have I done? Veggies and cats are much easier.

And *drumroll* ... amnio is Friday. I just want that monkey off my back.

Can I just add that blogger's spellcheck sucks? Why have the "learn" button there if it never remembers anything I tell it to learn?

Low salt girl

I awoke yesterday morning to ankles the size of ...well, maybe not tree trunks but definitely branches. Thick branches. Or what we call in nurse's lingo "pitting edema". In other words, if you press on the swollen spot, it stays indented. Not much, but enough.
I showed them to one of the girls at work and she flipped out. My pressure was 134/77, which is fine but a touch high for me, who usually runs between 110-120/65-70. Anyway, I called my OB's office. They shocked me and actually had Dr Delivery himself call me back at work! I spoke to the Man, not a mere flunky. Anyway, the Man was concerned. First he reassured me it was not preeclampsia because it just doesn't happen this early in pregnancy (15.5 weeks) in singleton pregnancies. HUGE sigh of relief.

But I now am on orders to 1)Cut back the salt. 2)Drink 3-4 liters of water a day. I already drink 2-3. He nicely said in a stern voice "we recommend FOUR". *sigh*. Four it is. Like I'm not in the bathroom enough. And 3) elevate feet whenever possible. Did I mention CUT BACK THE SALT. No prepared foods. No *sob* cheeses. No *sob* pickles. Those are two staples of my diet these days. I mean, pickles of all varieties - tomato pickles, pickled carrots, beets, cucumbers ... I'm an equal opportunity pickle eater. I won't even get started on the cheese thing. Let me just say "low fat feta". *sigh*.

So I am officially a low salt girl. And my manager has really been trying to help me out by not having me stand a lot, which is nice (and almost unheard of in nursing).

It's not gonna be easy so wish me luck. And my ankles look a lot better this morning.
Argh.

PS- the bunny is brownish-black. I know he looks mutant purple but he is brown. Sorry. It would be nice to have a purple bunny.

I told you it was huge ...

the evil bunny makes an appearance

Hear me ramble

all over the goddamned place.

Last night I attempted to write this but had no Internet connection. It was odd - the other day, Internet service had been out (we have cable modem) and last night when I returned home I noticed it had come back up (ie, I had emails) but was back out. The Internet service clueless techie assured me it was my computer, not the connection at that point. I had rebooted multiple times, disconnected the modem and router, etc etc etc. I restored back several points. I rebooted again. I disconnected the router. But nada. Clueless Techie's comment seemed to be backed up by the fact that John's old decrepit computer was coming online, but mine wasn't. *sigh*

So, I called Dell. The PC is now 2 years old (pretty much obsolete in computer terms) but I've never had a problem with it till now. So, the nice tech in India (!!!)and I went through a bunch of stuff together - it was easier when he realized that I wasn't a mouth breather and stopped spelling every damned thing - and after nearly 2 hours - nada. We pinged. We netsocked. We winsocked. We restored. We regedited. Zip. Zero. Not working. So he tells me "we're going to have to reinstall the o/s (operating system. IOW, Windows). Oy!! I was not pleased, considering all the p0rnbaby stuff I have on my computer, including family pics and other fun things one files away. India tech and I made a date for tonight, with my plan to burn all my data to CDs so we could reinstall the o/s.

Well, it all sounded very drastic to me. I've been online for years and years and never had this problem with Win95a or b or even 97. Yes, Windows can suck but still. So I tried multiple more reboots and disconnected the modem and router one more time. And behold ... ping. There was my homepage. Can I add that most of this occurred during 24? Which, btw, the last few weeks has strained my credulity greatly. I mean, really. As IF a top Chinese security officer would be allowed NEAR a top-secret government/spy agency, especially during a possible nuclear disaster. Ain't gonna happen. Just ain't. He wouldn't be allowed in there on a regular day. Please. Don't insult my intelligence. And then, once inside, be allowed to question random people without anyone saying anything or trying to stop him? Please.


And while I'm on stupid TV, can I just growl at the paternalistic episode of CSI, where Willows makes out with some guy in a bar who then becomes a murder suspect? Because Gil Grissom's character really needs to get his daddy impulses under control. Do you hear me, CSI writers? I get very tired of the "shady background threatens Willow's career" storyline. Yeah, she was an exotic dancer, whatever. Yeah, she let her guard down and made a bad choice. It happens to all of us in real life too. But in episodes where male characters have fucked up, Grissom was always understanding and "I'm giving you another chance". This time it's "bad Catherine, bad girl. Daddy doesn't like it when you act that way, you slut". Interestingly, no one seemed to raise an eyebrow or curl a lip when Grissom got involved with a Dominatrix. I'm just saying. Enough already.

I really don't watch much TV. Deadwood (that show ROCKS! And the characters swear more than I do, which is saying something). 24. CSI, sometimes. Oh and the new Kojak. I lurve Ving Rhames. Anyway. I told you this was rambling.

One of the docs at work brought me a baby name book as his wife is scheduled for c-section today and they no longer need it. My quibble? It doesn't have my name in it. Now given, my name is not one you hear in every playground but it's not that rare. It's more common than "Kinnebrew". Or "shaquiquiana". Or "oogogolaoo". I am not making those up. To top it off, pretty much any name that's listed with Hebrew as its source means "gracious". Ok, enough with that. I am fluent in Hebrew and unless these are derived from multiple archaic forms of that word that I've never heard before, that book is full of shit.

Can you tell I've been storing this up?

My stepson has been absolutely impossible lately. Rude, passive-aggressive and disrespectful one moment, sun-shiny and sweet and asking for my help the next. Teenage boy behaviour, I'm guessing. It seems to be worse each time he returns from the biothing's house. He didn't get me a Mother's Day card, which stung a lot more than I care to admit. Didn't even wish me a happy Mother's Day (he was at the biothing's house that day but came home that evening). I asked John about it and his response was "I had to force him to buy a card for his *mother. Besides, I thought my card covered it." I informed him that it did not. It was the only fly in a very lovely Mother's day, otherwise.

I called my Mom to wish her a happy day and both she and my father got on the phone and wished me a happy "prospective" Mother's day. I was so blown away that I started crying. I've been a stepmom for nigh on 5 years now and they've never said anything about Mother's day before. I know that doesn't sound right, but that's just my parents. They are who they are. But for them to acknowledge this pregnancy, to treat me as if finally - finally, this is for real ... well, it meant more than my meagre writing skills can summon up to explain. Enough said.

John was a sweetheart to me all weekend long. He usually is, but more so. He catered to my incessant harping about planting a vegetable garden and we finally did so on Mother's day. It felt right. We surrounded the garden with rabbit wire as there have been many bunnies noted in the neighbourhood. One in particular, that we think belonged to someone around here (probably the previous owners of our house) and has been hanging around. It came up and snuffled my foot one day and I, blithely raking and unaware, screamed. Cold wet nose, warm sandled foot, unsuspecting woman. Yes, I screamed. I admit it, I'm not proud. This morning I looked for him to take a picture and show you, my loyal readers, but he is hiding of course. That is one BIG bunny. He'd take my cat in a fair fight.


the garden

Anyway, we planted all different kinds of tomatoes, some peppers, some cucs and squash, onions and even a cantaloupe. Today I'm going to look and see if I can find some watermelon. I love watermelon, I do. We have no idea what we're doing with this garden, we just hope we get something out of it.


more garden porn

Later that afternoon, we drove out to Wheaton to Max's kosher deli where we had the best shwarma I've had since leaving Israel. And that's saying something. It was good to just be with John, talk, laugh and share time. I am one lucky woman. I was pretty concerned about his reaction to this pregnancy - he had been a bit (ok, more than a bit) ambivalent about fertility treatments and the whole mess that is/was my subfertility, but his obvious delight in this pregnancy has been palpable. I'm the ambivalent one now, it seems. I keep telling him that what he's seeing is merely fat. He just laughs and walks away, shaking his head. A wise man.

Oh and Deb? Stay way from Utz's S&V chips. Heartburn city. Believe me. Mind you, it could have been the sheer volume of consumption, but still. Don't say I didn't warn you.


*his word, not mine.

I know I've been MIA

... but I've been very tired and feeling kind of ...well, hibernatorial. If that isn't a word, it is now.
I'm much more energized then the first trimester but by the time I get home after 10 hours on my feet, I am exhausted. I am trying to eat healthy which isn't easy when I forget to take something out to defrost for dinner. Ah well.

The spectre of the amnio is looming over me ... May 20th. I just want to get it over with so I can move forward. And I feel fat. Not pregnant. Just fat. Oh, and my thyroid panel came back within normal range so Dr Shitty is an asshat.

Ah well, time for another 10 hours of fun.

My tale of woe

I had an appointment with the OB this week. In my OB practice, you don't necessarily see the same one all the time because of their philosophy - you never know who will be on call to deliver your baby. Being a cynic, I think it has more to do with malpractice rates, but that's me.

So I saw Dr S. I thought it would go well - young woman, seemingly nice ...I had high expectations. Especially after meeting with my primary OB who was the epitome of human kindness and patience.

I had a few concerns going into the appointment, especially after the very kind RN had gone through some of the bloodwork results with me (from my first appt, which no one called me about). It seemed that my thyroid (I'm hypothyroid anyway and take Synthroid) was on the low side - T3 was .33 and normal started at .35. My TSH was normal. Also, I was concerned about the ankle swelling and my ..er.... urinary leakage of late ... and most importantly, the risk of incompetent cervix as explained to me by Dr High Risk as I've had multiple d&cs and a recent miscarriage. All legit, right? Nothing too crazy, nothing too demanding?

The nice nurse put me in the sono room just in case there was a need for ultrasound. Being an infertility patient, you *know* at the REs there's always a need for ultrasound. I mean, really. But I wasn't in Oz any longer, so I wasn't sure what they were going to do. At the RE's, it was always "better safe than sorry". But I figured I'd be on my best behaviour and see what happened.

Dr S came in and mumbled her name at me. Asked me how I was doing and if I had concerns. I explained my few concerns/questions to her. She obviously hadn't had a chance to look at my chart and started leafing through: "Oh, your bloodwork all came back normal, even the Tay-Sachs." I told her what the RN had said about my thyroid. "Oh, that's nothing to worry about. You're just barely below normal".

Ping... I heard our relationship go from so-so to abysmal in .06 seconds.

At which point I shook my head. I mean ... if I'm below normal NOW ... what is she waiting for? For the level to drop precipitously? When I *know* that thyroid level is extremely important in fetal development/mental development?
But she had already moved on. "As for the incompetent cervix, we can check that when you have your amnio at week 16". At which point I (at week 13)again shook my head but this time words came out too. "I'm not comfortable with that" I said. "I'd rather get checked now and have some peace of mind, especially after my recent miscarriage". She looked at me and although she had good doctor-face on, I could tell she was annoyed.

So she (actually noticed I was allergic to latex)got the abdominal u/s thingie ready and started moving it to and fro on my belly in a joystickesque manner. Now I may be an RN, but u/s is NOT my specialty. If you don't tell me what I'm seeing - especially while moving the wand around - I honestly have no clue, all I see is an indiscriminate blob. So as she's about to zap the Morgons ...er ...anyway, I say to her very timidly "is there a heartbeat?"

And she looks at me and says "Can't you see it moving?? Guess if it's moving there's a heartbeat, huh?".
At which point I reached out and squeezed her neck rapidly while shaking her from side to side. She quietly slid down and expired. My first OB then walked in, looked at her there on the floor, said "good riddance" and continued the ultrasound. He explained everything with great kindness and understanding.

Oops sorry. Fantasy sequence. Pardon me.

And she looks at me and says "Can't you see it moving?? Guess if it's moving there's a heartbeat, huh?".
I said nothing. Because not only was I completely dumbfounded, there was no point. She didn't get it. She had no clue, even though it said "recurrent loss" on my chart. Even though my chart is already 2 inches thick and it's only my second visit. Even though I'm 39, have some obvious problems, am obviously distressed. Even though I'm human and have feelings. Yes, I was in my nurse's uniform but that shouldn't have made the least bit of difference.

Dr Shitty kept trying to zap Morgons on my belly. Finally she gave up trying to see my cervix through my abdomen and decided (Halleluyah! The chorus of angels that is my bladder sang!) to do a transvag, something she should have done from the beginning. She didn't even offer me a picture of my "obviously" moving baby. Bitch. I was burning inside.

Ah, the familiar cooter-cam. I was overjoyed. Well, not really but at least I knew what to do. Something about familiarity. Anyway, my cervix measured 5cm. So she said. I had to ask her if that was good to which she actually laughed (!!!)and told me that I was "above the curve" as normal was 2-4cm. She ok'd me for exercise as long as I keep my heartrate around 140, no higher. She also told me bluntly that there was nothing they could do about my urinary dribbling until after the baby is born. I kind of knew that, but ... oh well. I do Kegels semi-regularly. She then proceeded to argue with me about my blood type which was listed on the chart as O+, when I'm really O-. I have a relatively rare condition called a "weak D" which means that part of my rhesus (that's the + or - part) are positive and part is negative. She didn't actually believe me until I told her that I had received Rhogam post last d&c. Grrrrr.

And then I mentioned my weight to her. She got very upset with me because I've gained too much. I've gained approximately 16 lbs and I know it's not good. Yes, I was on a restricted calorie diet before I got pregnant and the minute I started eating normally the pounds leapt on. Yes, I have a very slow metabolism (thank you O thyroid gland) and normally put on weight easily. Yes, my thyroid may be low (thank you O Dr Shitty) which doesn't help. Yes, all I was able to keep down in first trimester were carbs which definitely pack on pounds in this girl.

My endocrinologist also read me the riot act about my weight gain after I went in to see her because of my lack of confidence (re:low thyroid reading)in Dr Shitty. She is very concerned. Dr Thyroid is also petite and tiny, which made me feel lovely. But she is kind and I at least feel that she gives a hoot. I need to go get punctured again for bloodwork because the OB's office faxed over the thyroid report that Dr Thyroid's office originally sent them in March, not the recent thyroid panel from the OB that I had asked them to send. *sigh*

But now I'm terrified about pre-eclampsia and losing my baby. Note I did not say "alleged baby". Yes, that means you, Stacy.
My blood pressure has measured anywhere from 104/65 to 120/84 which is fine so that helps my state of mind. I know I need to watch what I eat, start to exercise a bit, maybe cut out the carbs as much as possible. But I feel scared, intimidated, worried and a bit like a failure. I don't want to make this pregnancy a bad experience or harm my baby in any way. I want to do what's right. But I am terrified and frozen in place.

So ... if you have thoughts, advice, assvice, concerns, words of kindness ... please share them. And if you can, leave your email address so I can at least thank you.

And know one thing. My next OB appointment is NOT with Dr Shitty. Nor will it ever be again. *sigh* Wanna guess who's going to be on-call when/if I deliver? I just know it.

Things I found out this weekend

That my family is truly overjoyed at our good news.
That my parents are really starting to look their age.
That soon, all of us "kids" are going to be over 40.
That 8 hours in a car and several subsequent hours cooking for Passover cause a certain girl's ankles to swell. Oh yeah. And I mean swell, baby.


The weekend went by far too fast. It seems we had just arrived at my sister's when it was already time to turn around and come back again. Which sucked.
The drive went well - we headed straight up route 15 which took us to NY state, then 390 to the 90 Interstate and up to Canada.
Going took us 8 hours - not bad at all. Of course John didn't let me drive. He never does. So I slept on and off, as we left at midnight. Uneventful except for a teen's snoring in the back seat. Yeesh!

Passover was wonderful. It's my favourite holiday at the worst of times and this was the best. We broke the news to my sister and her husband first - it was kind of hard to hide and she is utterly delighted. After helping her with much Seder preparation, John and I headed out to the mall to see if I could find some clothes that would fit.

I was delighted to find "Thyme Maternity" in Canada and ...score! They had a sale on. I picked up some super-comfy and stylish pants ($59 CDN)a little more than I wanted to spend but the moment they went on, I didn't want them off. Also a couple of nice tops, mostly on sale. Yeah, it wasn't terribly cheap but it wasn't crazy expensive either and I've been desperate to find reasonable and stylish pregnancy clothing. Me, the fashion maven. Please. I can hear the laughter from over there. Anyway, I may have to return some pants to JCPenney now. These others are far more comfortable and wayyyy nicer. Go Canada!

Between the return to my sister's, the last minute cooking, the reading of the Haggadah, much good food, the laughter and many songs, we announced our news to the delight of everyone present, even my infertile sister (who adopted) although her husband had a bit of a sour look on his puss. Ah well. It truly was a special and joyous evening.

Upon retiring to bed, we noticed how swollen my ankles were. Ouch. I elevated them throughout the night and have been doing so periodically since then. It's hard when you're a nurse but I've been trying. I see the OB today and have made a list of things to discuss (oh yeah, he's gonna lurrrvveee me) including aforementioned ankles as well as Dr Risky's concern regarding my possibly dilated cervix. Oh, and did I mention the small thing called the nuchal translucency?

On the drive home from the GWN (Great White North, catch up, would you?), I called the genetic counselor who informed me that our post-test risk went from 1:95 to .... *drumroll* ... 1:781! Yay for us! She was very pleased and while we're still going ahead with amnio, that big sighing sound you all heard early Monday afternoon? Well, that was me. And maybe even John a little bit. We're actually relaxing a little bit, DBTs* and all.

Oh and if anyone ever figures out a way to get a 16 year old boy out of the shower after less than 25 minutes, could you please let me know? Cutting off the water supply is getting old. I need something far more exciting. Heck, I wouldn't want to bore the child.



*DBTs=dead baby thoughts. Stolen shamelessly from the Infertility blogosphere.

Happy Passover!

I went to the Hair Butchery yesterday for a cut. *sigh*. Ah well, what do I expect for $19. At least it looks more tidy. Yeah. What the hell are these layers? Thank heavens I decided not to do colour. I'm going to wait till I'm firmly in my second trimester, roots be damned.

We are heading to Canada (land of the free, home of the brave) for Passover tonight. Yes, we're driving and since John won't ever let me drive, I expect to have a good sleep on the road.

We finally get to tell the family that we're expecting. It's very exciting!!

So - here's wishing everyone a happy and joyous Passover, filled with family, love and good food! And for those without family to go to this year, here's an invitation to the infamous getupgrrl's Infertility Seder
Next year in Jerusalem!

Wow.

warning to infertilinas - much baby and pregnancy talk and pictures to follow.

Let me start off by saying that my Perinatologist is an absolute doll. Kind, soft spoken and thorough - what more can a girl ask for?

I liked the genetic counselor who was quite thorough and seemed more concerned about my risk of breast cancer than anything else. It seems that my risk for passing chromosomal abnormalities is only age-related, nothing else. We discussed my odds - she put them around 1:95 for Trisomy 18 (Downs) and similar odds for other abnormalities. She spoke in layman's terms until I finally broke down and told her I was an RN at which point she stopped babying me a bit. But she was good and very thorough. The one thing she said that I clung to was that if the nuchal didn't look wonderful, there was the option of doing a CVS right there and then. I kept that in mind as a benchmark.

After a long discussion, she took me to what I thought was the cooter cam room. I was about to drop trou when the tech stopped me and told me just to lower my pants a bit, this u/s was done abdominally. Oops. Infertility strikes again!

Anyway, she left me with my pants slightly lowered, displaying my flabby white belly. The peri arrived and seriously, what a nice man. He introduced himself, talked a bit about what we were looking for, tut-tutted over my bad back and got to work. I could see something ... and he said "Ok, we're measuring the crown-rump length (CRL) and you're right on target, 12 weeks and 1 day!" at which point I sort of choked out "is there a heartbeat?"
Dr Risky looked at me with a very kind look, and very softly said "I'm sorry. Let's do this the right way from the beginning, shall we?". I think I fell in love right there and then. And sure enough, there was the heartbeat at 171. I even heard it, loud and clear. Faithful readers will know me well enough to know that I was sobbing at this point. Dr Risky showed me the spine and the stomach, even the bladder. It was quite something!

Then he went to measure the neck fold and the bambino was squirming away. I mean ... the bean was doing the mambo. It was tough for Dr Risky to get a measurement at first but eventually he got 1.4mm, which put me well below the 50th percentile for abnormalities. Of course, that's all contingent on the bloodwork, but no one suggested the CVS, which made me breathe easier.

And then ... and then ... he switched the ultrasound to 3D. And for an instant, just an instant, I saw my baby's face. Not this amorphous blob that kept wriggling, but a baby. With a face and a body ... a real baby. My baby.

For the first time this is starting to come home to me. I've been relatively ambivalent about this pregnancy up till this point. And now ... I - we - may actually have a baby to show for all the turmoil, pain and heartache of the last couple of years. I'm over-joyed, afraid and ... slightly less terrified than I was up till now.

12 weeks. Wow.

And here s/he is ...


the blob!


a view from the rear


3D ... and sucking his/her thumb

Just when you thought it was safe ...

I didn't sleep much last night. Not just nerves but back pain too. Yeah. Sciatica.

John and I went out to get topsoil for the garden that he tilled (by hand!) and we were getting it all ready and mixing the soil and mulch and making rows and chasing away the very large bunny that wants to check it out already ...

...and ping! I felt something give in my back. I hadn't really done much, I believe I was raking. Nothing strenuous. *sigh*. It's gotta be the extra weight I've put on. And believe me, 99% of it is "extra".

Between that and the heartburn, I didn't get much sleep last night. Doctor's list says no ibuprofen. I don't even have Tylenol in the house, it does so little. And I'm worried about using Icy Hot or something like that. Yeah, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.

May I please add that constipation and gas pains are also no fun when your sciatic hurts?

My nuchal is today. That's going to be SO much fun. And John won't be with me.

The last time he wasn't with me for a test we got bad news. I hope it's not a trend.

So, I need your good thoughts. 1)That the nuchal is ok and 2) I get through this pain without killing something. Like a certain bunny.

I really don't want to take time off work. I'm hoarding every precious hour. My mother in Toronto was horrified when I told her yesterday that there is no mandatory paid maternity leave in the United States of America. I do believe it's the only "civilized" country that doesn't have it.

So much for "family values".

But I digress. Please send good thoughts my way today? Thank you.

PS - did I mention the new girl at work who, while trying to "bond" with me (my most recent loss seems to be a topic of office conversation), felt it necessary to tell me about her miscarriage at 12 weeks? A very nice girl, but ... please.

Guess which week I'm in?

Oy.

"You'll be fine"

It's Saturday morning and the house is empty but for me and two cats. John is off golfing and Jr is at the biothing's. The cats are jonzing for food and being cute, nothing new there.

I vaguely remember last night; I came home from work, chewed on some Tums, lay down on the couch cause I was tired and not feeling wonderful ... next I know, John is taking me upstairs somehow and I am following compliantly. I remember going to the bathroom and him helping me undress. That's all I remember till this morning when my bladder woke me. Wow. 12 hours of sleep.

I didn't eat dinner so I awoke absolutely ravenous this morning and have already wolfed down a sesame seed bagel (toasted) with light cream cheese. Thoughts of food are dancing in my head - it's all I seem to think about lately. Well, that and that little thing called the nuchal translucency test.

Yeah, that. Now I am a worrier by nature and even I know that worrying about this does nothing, so I've been trying not to think about it but it's hard. As it stands, my chance of carrying a Downs baby is 1:100. Them ain't great odds, yanno.

At work everyone says "you'll be fine, you'll see!". How do they know? How on earth do they have the confidence to say that to someone? I would never do that, never tell a person "oh, you'll be fine" when I don't know for a fact that it's true. I say that as a person and as a nurse. But then again, the people at work have never understood what I've been through, or the emotional pain of being infertile or even subfertile. I believe that they think since I got pregnant without IVF treatment that I am absolutely fine. They remind me of Paula. Please go and read Emily's most excellent diatribe.

And I may be fine, I guess. Sure I needed surgery and much testing, yes I went through emotional (and to an extent) physical hell, yes I suffered loss(es), but hey ... I got pregnant the good ol fashioned way, so what am I kvetching about?
In truth, I think that too sometimes.

Then I give my head a shake. And hear nothing. Alas.

I just want this damned test to come back ok. Yes, I am scared. And nervous. And John won't be with me. I wish I could say "it'll be fine" but something inside me won't let me.

So I'm going to go immerse myself in gardening and possibly, eating. Because John tilled (by hand) the garden that I couldn't do and because we had a frost last night. I fell asleep before I could cover my nice new plants.

Ooops.

The *cough domestic cough* diva

Thanks for bearing with me as I got the vitriol out of my system. I just get so darned bitter about the whole step-parenting thing sometimes - all the work, none of the credit. Yes, I know. I know that "one day he'll realize how much you did and he'll thank you for it" ... but that's right up there with that lovely homily "oh just relax and you'll get pregnant! It worked for my mother's brother's sister's cousin's half-step uncle!"

If you know what I mean.

It's a beautiful Monday morning and I've been outside gardening. Or pretending to do so. It's my day off and I couldn't have picked nicer weather. Saturday we stopped at Walmart and I picked up a bunch of plants. I realize that it's too soon and that we could still have a killing frost, but ... tulips were 50 cents each. And there were snapdragons. And violas. And other things whose names I may not remember but they were darn pretty.

I planted a big pot full of them and it looks very lovely. I have no idea if they're compatible with each other or if I even did it right, but ... I'm giving it a good shot. I even spread mulch on the gardens. I also planted the remainder of the plants in various places in our garden - including a hydrangea. I'm just hoping it'll get enough sun where it is. What do I know?

The vegetable garden plot is now marked off. John didn't want me using a tiller by myself without him here. You know, in case I cut off my foot or something. I told him that technically, cutting off my foot wouldn't hurt the (alleged)baby, but he was not to be dissuaded. Whatever did I do before I met him and had to use power tools? By myself. With no one around at all ... *sigh*. Some things are just not worth arguing about.
Instead I have been hacked at the grass with a hoe and now have an impressive blister. I would use that excuse so not to make dinner tonight, but I already have the slow cooker going. Ah well. I even baked sugar cookies yesterday. Oy.

It's definitely too early to plant veggies, but I do want to get things going, including a bunny-proof chicken wire doohickie, as there are bunnies galore around here.
Oh, and for those few who do read this and have some gardening expertise ... PLEASE feel free to give pointers, advice, assvice, whatever. I can use all the help I can get!

I've never done this before. Never had a home of my own. Never had a garden of my own. Never started a vegetable garden from scratch. Never been pregnant this long. Never been in love like this. Lots of firsts and I am quite happy.

The nuchal is the 18th. 18 in Judaism is the numeric equivalent of "life" and is considered a good luck number. Considering what we're looking at, I'm hoping it's a good omen that the appointment is on the 18th.
But as my friend Stacy said yesterday ... "they're all good luck numbers. Just relax."
Her, I believe. She showed up yesterday with her 3 kids, 2 of which are ART babies. She's convincing that way.

I tried to take pictures of the flowerpot and garden but my dig cam is foobared and acting temperamental. I managed to snap a couple shots before it decided to go on strike - then when I uploaded the pics, there were some old and unexpected shots there somehow. So you get one of those too. Who doesn't want to see cute kitty pics, anyway?

flowerpot


lame flowerpot picture. I hate my camera.


anyone need insulin?

Dinner and a rant.

Last night we went out for dinner. Just the two of us, Jr is at the biothing's house. Before you wonder about the title "biothing", let me explain.

WARNING! BITTER STEP-PARENT RANT AHEAD!

First of all, the female in question is a miracle of "oops" pregnancies, reason enough to loathe her. 4 husbands, 4 kids. Two of which were taken away and custody given to the fathers, not an easy task in the state of Maryland. One of those kids is Jr.

She pays us next to nothing in child support. I'm serious. For nearly 16 years, she's paid the absolute minimum Maryland requires and each time John has spoken to her about raising it a bit, she quits whatever pathetic job she has. She raises huge stinks about contributing to buying him luxuries like ... glasses and clothing. And thinks nothing of buying him. I mean that, that's no typo, she'll buy him a flat screen TV for his bedroom, a new Playstation, an mp3 player. But glasses? She's supposed to pay 50% of all medical expenses. The last time we bought him glasses and rec specs, it was more than 400 bucks (he has a special Rx). We're still waiting for her half and that was nearly 3 years ago.

Let me just add (since I'm on the topic and feeling particularly bitter this morning for some reason) that John took custody when Jr was around two and a half. She had been catting about while John worked 2 full time jobs because she wanted to be a "stay at home mom" and she had 2 other kids - well, one really, because one was with the father. She filled that time screwing other men and in general neglecting Jr. John didn't know - at first - about the former.

And I say she neglected Jr because when John,who had no experience raising children or any idea of what was developmentally "on target" and who was working constantly, took Jr to daycare at close to 3 years old, he realized that Jr had almost no vocabulary, in comparison to other kids his age. Sure, he had realized that the baby was constantly dirty, as he was doing almost all the childcare when he was home and rumours from neighbours about the older daughter being left alone with Jr circulated, but my husband is a good man and loathe to think poorly of others.

But when he found out about the infidelities, he took Jr and sued for custody. By that point, Jr had been tested and found to need speech therapy (big shock!!) and a therapist was coming 2-3 times a week to John's mom's house, where they were staying. John worked heavily with Jr, leaving work early, working on speech therapy every day, making sure Jr was getting what he needed.
The biothing showed up for one session. One. And that was right before the custody hearing. She lived 5 minutes away.
She showed up to the custody hearing sans lawyer and 7 months pregnant with another man's baby. John and her were still married at the time.

Yes, I say that judgementally. I am biased, certainly, but John is a good and kind man. He is devoted to his son - and to me. He has become extraordinarily gentle around me since this alleged pregnancy, pretty much doting on me. I know that he must have been much the same way with the biobitch, who screwed him over.
I don't forgive crap like that, not even slightly.

Needless to say, that amongst other things made the judge give John full custody. Not joint, not shared. FULL custody. Which he still has. Yet my husband bends over backwards to insure that Jr has time with the biothing. When we lived closer to her, John would drive Jr to her house and back (!!!) so Jr could spend time with her. Not that she would lift a finger, of course. Now that we live farther away, he still drives halfway, a good 45 minutes in either direction. And she bitches about that. I don't know any other custodial parent who does what John does.

She does absolutely no parenting of Jr. Nothing. Which shows in the way he talks about her and treats her, she complains about his tone with her. When he spent most of 7th grade at her house because of poor school districts (PG county, for those that know) where we were living, she never made sure his homework was done, never ever went to parent-teachers, never ever made sure he was staying on track with his schooling.
As a result, Jr entered the 8th grade missing the all-important basics in math/algebra and English and he struggled mightily. We disconnected the Playstation and made him sit and do work. I bought him workbooks. By the end of 8th grade, we had made up a lot of the missing links but decided to put him in pre-algebra in 9th grade and made him do extra work in the summer. He was bitter, oh yes he was.
Smartest thing we could have done, the kid is acing algebra and geometry now. Yeah, his English leaves a lot to be desired but he really is a typical boy. Just not interested, would rather be outside playing sports. Despite that, his grades are excellent after much hard work from John, Jr and me.

Not to mention her treatment of me. I've been in the picture 5 years and she has gone to great effort to badmouth me to Jr. Calling me names, badmouthing me. When she found out I was Jewish, she hurried out and bought Jr a crucifix and made him go to church the weekends he was there. That lasted all of 3 weeks, because she didn't go to church before. When we made wedding plans, she decided that her and husband number 4 needed to have a "renewal of vows". Right before our wedding. It was pretty funny, actually. She has consistently tried to poison Jr's mind against us and even told him that John had "girlfriends" while they were married. It goes on and on. Whenever Jr comes home from a weekend there, we hear the not-so-subtly planted vitriol that she's shared with him. Because to her, it's not about the kid. It's about her.

Oh, and I've only shared the tip of the iceberg, honestly. I could go on, but there's no need. I feel much better now. On to what I was actually going to talk about.
{/end rant}

Anyway, so Jr is over there this weekend and we have a kid-free weekend. We went out to a Mediterranean restaurant, as I was craving some home-style food ( I grew up in Israel) and it was pretty decent. Tabouleh, hummus, kibbeh, dolmades, fool medames. And shwarma, which was so-so. The salads made up for it. It's a strange place - looks like a full service restaurant, but you order and pay at the counter and then sit down and wait for someone to bring you your food. Kind of odd. But tasty and it satisfied my craving to the point that I over-ate. It just tasted so good!

And the main reason I mention all this? I wore jeans.

Maternity jeans.

Nothing else fits.

Ack.

The segue post. Sorry.

I wish I had something scintillating and hip to say, but I'll leave that to the actual writers amongst us, check out my links list for their sites.
I have to say, I'm very very flattered that I'm being linked to by women I admire a great deal - it feels a bit like high school and being accepted into the "cool" clique. Are you gals just waiting to play a trick on me ala Heathers?

Only I never was accepted in real life, for fun or for real. Hah.

I was abysmally uncool all through my school years. In grade school I was an over-achiever who'd rather have her head in a book than anywhere else. That may have had something to do with the nearly-complete hearing loss in my left ear that remained undiscovered till the age of 8-ish. OK, ready for the segue?

My mother loves to tell the story of how an active, bright and babbling baby - wasn't. She grew very worried and called the doc, who was out of town on vacation. Instead, Dr Young (yes, that was his name) showed up at our house - after all, this was the 60s and housecalls were not a big deal - and examined me carefully. I was lying on the couch, completely lethargic. Mom says he then took a brightly coloured rattle and dropped it in front of my eyes - I didn't budge, track or do anything. At which point, the good doctor stood and said "Mrs B, get a blanket (it was winter), wrap your daughter up and follow me - we're going to the hospital now". That man saved my life.
That man - and the doctor who diagnosed me at Children's Hospital in Winnipeg way back then (and later became the head of Children's), who actually figured out that I had a relatively little-known disease.

You see, I had meningitis. Considering that I was a very young infant (the age changes each time my mom tells the story, but I figure around 1-ish) back in the dark ages of medicine, the mid-60s, the fact that I survived it is a miracle.
Back then, no one tested for sequelae - no one really knew.

So, the hearing loss went completely undetected until I was in 3rd grade, at which point my father had surgery on his ear.
In response to that, I took my transistor radio - do you remember the ones that had the white ear piece that you shoved in your ear? - well, I turned it up full-crank and put it in my good ear - and nearly deafened myself completely. Then tried it in my "bad" ear - you see, *I* was aware of the difference, I just figured that was the way it was supposed to be - and heard nothing. Zip. Just some vibration.
Aha! I had solved the mystery! *I* needed surgery too, just like Daddy!!

At which point I went to my mother and unilaterally declared my need for ear surgery, pronto. It was enough to make her hmmm and put a bunch of little things together ... and take me to my father's ear doctor who took no time in determining the hearing loss. 95% neuro-sensori loss. Almost complete left ear deafness.
And nothing you can do about it, either. The nerve is pretty much dead.

A few years back, I was working ICU at Johns Hopkins. We were mostly oncology-based, but we did some other stuff as well. I was caring for a patient who'd had a tumour in his ear removed - the surgery itself is what damaged his hearing, but he had no choice, the tumour had to come out. The ENT (ear nose and throat) surgeon, a personable guy, was talking to him about how they were going to help restore his hearing. My ear (hah)perked.
Afterwards, I pulled Dr Ear aside and asked him if what he had explained to the patient would work for me. Without skipping a beat, he answered that it wouldn't, but he did have something else, a pilot project, something new and relatively untested, that would work beautifully for my kind of hearing loss. A BAHA, or "bone anchored hearing aid".

And sure enough, it went through and I had the surgery, which implanted a titanium pin in my mastoid bone, to which I attach a hearing aid. It works by transmitting the vibrations via the skull (bone) to my good ear, giving me awareness of sound on that side. No, it hasn't cured my hearing, that won't happen until we figure out nerve grafting, probably not until I'm gone and buried. But, when I remember to wear the darned thing, it does help. It also picks up a lot of ambient noise, which is a hassle and gives me headaches.
IOW, I don't wear it much. But it was fun to tell you about. Here's a pic taken not long after the surgery, just to give you an idea.


the pin



the hearing aid on the pin

So the segue won. I guess this post is about my hearing aid, rather than my lack of popularity in school. I'm far too much a "stream of consciousness " writer.
Yes, I was popular with some sub-sections of my jr and high school years, but we won't talk about that this time around.

As for other things, I finally ventured into the baby section at Target. I lasted about 2 minutes before getting completely overwhelmed with all the thousands of strollers, high chairs and swings and backing sloooowwwwwllyyy down an aisle to escape. Only the aisle was filled with classic Pooh Bear stuff, my silly dream/contraband stuff that I've wanted to fill a nursery with for a long time. I promptly burst into tears and ran the hell out of there.

Not yet. I just can't do it yet.

And I still don't have results back on the 12(!!!) vials of blood they drained from me for screening purposes the other day. I'll wait one week. Then I start calling Dr Delivery's office. Yeah, they're going to love me.


PS- someone pointed out that I have pink and blue as the primary colours on my site. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!! I swear. It never dawned on me. I'm so dense sometimes.

Double digits

Yeah. I've made it to 10 weeks and to steal from grrl, NBHHY. Or, for those unfamiliar, "nothing bad has happened yet". It took me a while to figure that one out. I'm not the sharpest knife in the butcher block, yanno. BTW, go read grrl while you're at it, assuming you never have. She says it a lot better than I ever could.

Yes, I'm pretty overwhelmed today. The whole double digits thing has me going. And, I'm starting to "look" pregnant, even to me. Sure, I'm not exactly svelte to begin with, but ... there's a definite change to my body. Thicker, somehow. And I can't suck my stomach in any more. Freaky. I won't even talk about my boobs, which have suddenly seemed to develop a fondness for Madonna's cone look. Jesus Murphy.

I'm freaked out for any number of reasons, the first being "holy shit, I may actually have to birth this child", while others are slightly more pedestrian. Such as "ummm, you've changed a total of maybe 2 diapers in your life", "how the hell do I bathe a baby" and the ever-popular "what the hell am I going to do with said (alleged) baby once it gets here??"

And the more mundane "what if the testing shows something bad??". Yeah, ever the optimist. That's me, alright.

It's difficult, because no one seems to understand that there's a dark cloud that is always hovering on the horizon. Sure, it's gorgeous outside, the sun is shining and all looks well, but there's that damned cloud ... again. At work everyone expects me to be happy and bubbly about this pregnancy - so I try my best because I don't want to hear another damned lecture about pessimism. Damnit, I have GOOD reason to be pessimitic!!!

I'm Jewish!

Not to mention all the other crap I've been through. Yeah, that.

So, I'm going off to donate multiple vials of blood to my OB shortly, and I'm truly in a good mood ... just a tad frightened and trepidatious. And wondering when I'll be able to relax and just enjoy this. Probably not till after the amnio, huh? If all goes well.

*sigh*.

What's that old Carly Simon song ...?

...Constipation. Cooooooonnnstipaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaationnnn ...
There's the single reason I haven't given up (all)of my coffee intake.

Oh wait. I think that may have been the Jr High version of her song. Works for me.

I've learned the hard way (ha ha) that if I don't drink one cup of coffee per day, I am completely miserable. It seems like a small thing to bear in order to be able to go ... and all the research I've read says that 1-2 cups of coffee a day aren't a bad thing. So I'm forging ahead with the coffee drinking because - well, I just feel so much better.

I won't really mention the terrible gas. Let it suffice to say that the other day, John told me that when he had come to bed the previous night and lifted the covers, he nearly passed out. He then said excitedly "hey, now you know what it's like to be a guy!". Oy.

During the OB visit, Dr Delivery told me that he considered me high risk. Not just because of my age - I have a few other fun risk factors it seems. Ah well. Then he offered me a choice of himself doing the nuchal translucency, or sending me to a perinatologist for it. Now I really did want to see a peri, but I didn't want to insult the man. Yeah, I'm a nurse but those authority figures still have a grip on me. Luckily, my schedule just doesn't work with his availability, so I ended up having to set up an appointment with a peri this April 18th.

When I called, they also advised me that I would have a genetic counseling session prior to the appointment and that I would need a full bladder for the screening. I must have sounded hesitant because she reassured me that I'd be able to fill up during the counseling appointment. Whew! I can just imagine ... sitting through an hour long counseling session with a full bladder. Uh-huh.

The difference between a nuchal translucency test and an amniocentesis is that one is a screening test and the other is diagnostic. In other words, the former will give you the odds of you having a certain disorder, while the later will give you a factual yes/no answer. While a nuchal will give us a pretty good idea if there is something wrong, I'm pretty sure we'll go ahead with the amnio anyway. Thoughts, concerns and other info is appreciated, if anyone has experience and wants to comment. I'd love all input on this.

I realize it's a very personal choice. I will be honest and forthcoming - if the baby I am allegedly carrying has some form of either a fatal or disabling genetic disorder, it is most likely that we would choose to terminate. We have talked about this at great length and examined the pros and cons and it is the right choice for us. I hope that this is never something we have to deal with, but considering my age, it is a possibility and we are as prepared for it as anyone can be, I believe.

Hence, all input on screening, diagnostics and testing is appreciated. You're welcome to voice your own perspective on this, but please play nice. I am very pro-choice and I respect other's views, please do the same.

Ah, such a downer on a rainy Saturday morning. The nice thing is that we should have that first round of testing out of the way and done by the time we leave to Canada for Passover. If everything is well, we will be announcing to the family, as I'll be out of my first trimester by then. Nothing to see here! Keep moving ... and time for my second cup of coffee.