A short visit to L&D ...

It's quite odd. I get 40-50 hits a day on this blog ... but only a couple of you leave comments. Please leave comments, even just to say "hi". If not, I'll eventually have to track you down and bang on your door.

So, a touch of excitement in the Chaos household Thursday. John's birthday and I ended up in L&D by myself ... so much for dinner at the Macaroni Grill.

I went for a breast exam because of the blood in my colostrum. The doctor, an older man, was very sweet and exclaimed "5 pregnancies! And no children. hmmm. Don't give up, dear. We had 5 miscarriages but my 3 kids are having their own kids now ...." Made me smile and maybe a touch watery in the eyes.

The exam went well and everything seemed to be normal although he wants ultrasounds done to both breasts. I thanked him and hurried back to work.

Around 2 o'clock, I started getting contractions. Braxton-Hicks contractions, but still. They were unrelenting and uncomfortable, to the point where I was getting short of breath and unable to walk very far without huffing and puffing. I started to get very scared and even the other RNs I work with were getting a bit concerned.

After 2 hours of this, I called the OB and she was concerned because of the discomfort and sob ... told me to go to L&D. I was at work, so I went to the hospital across the street. I called John and told him - I don't think he grasped exactly what was going on. He did, to his credit, call me back later and ask if I wanted him to be there, but I saw no point to it at that stage.

L&D was full! I had to wait in the waiting room with 3 other pg ladies, all having symptoms of pre-term labour. Not fun. One of the girls from work came and sat with me for a while, which was nice. But the thought of an L&D floor being full is quite scary. The hospital closer to home may be a very good choice, in the long run. It's probably less busy than this one is.

Sometimes being a nurse has its perks - they took me in before some of the other women (although there may have been good reason why, I don't know). I did get admitted and monitored after waiting for over an hour ... and the baby is fine.

If nothing else, it was wonderful to just lie there for hours and listen to his heart beating - if nothing else, that was worth the time spent. He is an active little one, my son is.
I was still having a few contractions but by the time they got me on the monitors, they had mostly subsided. 3 hours of contractions was enough for my body, it seems.

The nurses were great and the OB was super nice ... I apologized to him for taking up a bed at a very busy time and he said "I've read your chart ...you've worked very hard to get to this point. I appreciate paranoia like yours - you did the right thing by coming in"
I started to cry, of course, It's always good to hear recognition of the struggles you've been through, especially from a busy doctor.

Anyway ...all is well. I'm officially on light duty for a while which should help and no more breast exams, necessary or not. No one is completely sure what precipitated this and I'm not rushing to find out. My fluid intake had been a tad lower than usual that day, so that may have been a contributing factor - I also think that pushing heavy stretchers doesn't help much. They want to see me in the office this week as well as next. Oy.

I am officially taking it easy this weekend. John went off golfing and I have several pounds of tomatoes to make into sauce ... or something. Other than that? Feet up on the couch and lots of popsicles. At least it's cooler this weekend. Small miracles.

Preggo brain

Here's a pic of today's yield from the garden. I brought a bunch of tomatoes into work and they vanished in seconds. It's a nice feeling.


These are fated for tomato sauce and maybe some salsa this weekend. If I have the energy. Thankfully, Jr will be at the biothing's house this weekend, so ... there ya have it.

Before I forget, please head over to Danae'sand wish Grrl, Mr Grrl, Sarah and baby Gefilte a hearty mazal tov!

In my garden zeal and other issues yesterday, I forgot to update you about a bad case of preggo brain.
I had been calling my OB's office because they needed to reschedule me - a story I won't get into, say thanks now ... but all they could do was schedule me way the heck and gone for Tuesday, August 2nd at the Rockville office. Lots of docs are vacationing, so there's a touch of a shortage and while Rockville is a bit of a hike on my day off ... well, that's what there is. I called a few times to see if there were cancellations and even called Monday and ask if there's any way they can switch my appt on the following day ... but nada. Everything is booked.

So yesterday, I take Jr and myself all the way to Rockville. I'm not terribly happy about this because I wanted to go to the Prime Outlets in Hagerstown to 1)hunt for a birthday present for John and 2)to shop the Motherhood maternity outlet store. I brought Jr along for the ride so he could spend his hard-earned cash (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! ... oh sorry. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! oh stop. Just a little humour there. Uh-huh. *snort*) on a gift for his father.

So I get to the Rockville office with 5 minutes to spare and the nice receptionist looks at me and says ... "but Ma'am, your appointment isn't till next week ..." at which point I realize that indeed, I am a week early.

Preggo brain in action, folks. I totally managed to convince myself that my August 2nd appointment was, in fact, on July 26th. For no other reason than my day off is Tuesday during both weeks. Oy.

They were extremely nice in the office and the doc saw me anyway, although I had to wait a bit and understandably so. His Highness is doing well, heartrate in the 140s and my belly was measured for the first time. I am now starting biweekly visits, it seems. My gestational diabetes testing is coming up. Oh ... and I mentioned the bloody colostrum thing to the doc who, it seemed, knew nothing about it although supposedly it was going in my chart when I called 2 weeks ago and was told "it's nothing". He checked my breasts and found nothing but guess what? I'm going to the surgeon tomorrow for a look-see. He told me "don't panic, but we should have this looked at". So I'm not panicking but ... ok, maybe a little. I lost a cousin to breast cancer last year and my aunt is a survivor - so we have history.

Instead I'm trying to focus on the fact that my weigh-in showed a 2 lb loss. Yessssssssssssssss.

We did eventually make it to the outlet mall where I purchased a pair of Aviator Ray-Bans for John - he never reads this, so I'm safe. I also bought a couple of really nice blouses that might be usable later, a pair of much needed maternity shorts, a maternity swimsuit (YESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and finally - at long last - maternity undies!!! They are so damned comfortable.

And the piece de resistance ... a bra extender!! Ladies, I never even knew such a thing existed but I have to tell you ... my rib cage is thanking me mightily today. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet.

Oh, and the latest Patricia Cornwell book in paperback, which is calling my name as I type.I started it at the pool yesterday in the ridiculous heat we've been having ... but I had my swimsuit. It felt so damned good to float like that and take some weight off.

So there you have it. Wish me luck tomorrow.

Tired of being a cash-cow.

I feel extremely frustrated. Every time I try and make a point to my stepson about the importance of getting a job and making money of his OWN, my beloved husband throws money at him under some guise. Today, after Jr borrowed money from a friend to get a cell phone card so he can use the cellphone his female biounit bought him, while counting on his allowance next week to fund that purchase, John came home and decided that the work Jr did while painting was enough to cover that debt.

John has already given him money for painting.

Jr was not expecting more money from painting.

This was after I had spoken to Jr about the evils of borrowing money from friends AND when you don't have a pot to piss in and reminding him of the need for a job.

Then John told me he didn't know how Jr was going to get a job anyway, since he's going to the biounit's house for a couple of weeks.

The kid is going into 12th grade and is still getting an allowance.

He's shown no drive or motivation to get a job, his driver's license, look at colleges or anything else.

Both of his bioparents keep enabling this behaviour.

I am done. I am silently furious with John on this matter and next time a large expense comes for Jr's grad, I'm just going to say that the biounit better be paying for half because I am not. The biounit pays less per month than I do to feed, clothe and shelter her son ... I'm tired of my paycheque being a repository for a lazy teenager and his lazier mother and tired of my opinions being dismissed. I'm not asking for the moon nor am I cheap, I'm just trying to teach the kid some fiscal responsibility - ANY responsibility for that matter.

Fuck that noise. I'm done.

Garden P0rn

More garden fun for Day and the rest of ye... I'll remind you of what the garden looked like before this ... here
Remember, I am not a great photog ... as if it wasn't evident.



You can actually *see* the humidity this morning ... ick.



These are mostly ginormous tomato plants, attempting their takeover of the universe. It's hard to see, but there are hundreds of tomatoes on those vines.




Dare I hope? A cantaloupe??


These are HUGE suckers. Man, I better start making tomato sauce. Anyone with a great recipe out there?



YES!! A watermelon. I'm such a proud mama.


Jalapenos. We planted 2 plants. Why? I have no idea. John dislikes spicy food.




John worked very very hard on the deck. It looks absolutely amazing now - it was grey and green-ish before. The grey on the house is primer, we are starting to paint. Eventually we may paint the ...er... third bedroom too. Oh, and if you live in Maryland? Feel free to drop by for some free tomatoes ... and maybe a hot pepper or six.

For Day ...

Sorry babe, got home and forgot to take pics of the jungle but here's some of the yield. The yellow tomatoes are delish!!




More later, including my disgust with the National Hockey League in general and Gary Bettman in particular.

I figured

I wouldn't get much commentary on my last entry. C'est la vie.

As for baby-related stuff, I am officially 26 weeks. His Highness has been vigorous and it makes me smile - in fact, I saw my t-shirt move for the first time the other day. It's very sweet when you think about it. I love feeling him move ... I realize I may not feel that way at week 36, but I do now.

I talk to him on the drive into work each morning, call him by his unofficial name sometimes just to see if it fits. I try and remember Hebrew lullabies but ... they are fleeting memories. I need to get my hands on some before it gets much later in this pregnancy.

The wallpaper border that I ordered off ebay arrived and John and I went to the Depot of Homes to match paint and also get paint for the outside of the house ... we had a small (very) windfall with the arrival of my disability cheque, so we are finally in a slightly (very) more comfortable financial place. We bought a couple of quarts of paint to see if they will go with what I envision in the ...er... third bedroom. The catch being that John doesn't love the bedding I picked out which would go beautifully with the Pooh border. I may stick to my guns on this one. We shall see. But it's expensive and it's order-only. Still, it's not as expensive as some!!

I really like it. Should I say that again? Your thoughts?

John also vetoed the Graco Snugride for an infant seat - yes, I finally got him to go to Buy Buy Baby. We've decided to go with the Combi Connection because it fits better in the Kolcraft Universal Carrier. How's that for bandying around names? The Combi feels more secure in there ... and I like the Kolcraft carrier better than the Combi carrier - it's roomier. So much for saving money though ... the Combi is more expensive by about 50 bucks. Together they work out to almost the same price as a travel system ... but with much less weight and that is appealing to me.

And that's all, folks. I may have gratuitous gardenp0rn to show you later but I will admit, we have been harvesting squash, zucchini and jalapenos, as well as a couple of tomatoes. I found a watermelon and 'lope growing. All the carrots and most of the other peppers have passed on because they weren't getting enough sun due to the humungous tomato growth.

Oh, and John finished the deck. It looks gorgeous, so I may sneak in a shot of that later. Off to do some weeding!!

PS ... anyone want a nearly 17 yo teenage boy? Cheap ...nah, free to a good home. Sulking and whining at no extra charge. Promise.

In which I get (more)political on yer asses

Lately I've been feeling particularly political and in correlation, more despairing than ever. I've watched the bombings in Britain with great sadness, as have most of us. Of course, the one question that started niggling in my brain not long after that first terrible attack was "why is a bus bombing in Britain called a 'terrorist' or 'terror' attack but when the exact same thing happens in Israel it's not?"

I asked a couple of people about this and was surprised to hear "oh, well that's because it happens in Israel all the time" and other like responses. So lemme get this straight ... if terrorist attacks happen ALL the time in one place, they are too humdrum and commonplace to label appropriately? Sounds like intellectual laziness to me. Strangely, no one had an answer for that.

I also found it particularly sad that a couple of days after the first attack in London, there was a terrorist attack and explosion in Iraq in which a number of schoolchildren were killed. CBS radio and TV screamed "Slaughter of the Innocents!!" and covered this for a couple of days and rightfully so. The murder of children for political gain has no place in this world. But what saddened me more was that a number of schoolchildren in Israel were killed the next day by a Hamas suicide bomber ... and no media station screamed out in protest about the slaughter of innocents. In fact, it was a mere sideline in the evening news. Terrorism was never mentioned. No, it was an attack by "militants".

These two stories make me wonder ... Why is it only called "terrorism" if Jews are not the target?

Hamas have come out and said:

Hamas will not compromise on one inch of Greater Palestine, Hamas leader Mahmoud al-Zahar told an Italian newspaper earlier this week.

Speaking to the Corriere Della Sera newspaper, al-Zahar said Hamas would "definitely not" be prepared for coexistence with Israel should the IDF retreat to its 1967 borders.
"It can be a temporary solution, for a maximum of 5 to 10 years. But in the end Palestine must return to become Muslim, and in the long term Israel will disappear from the face of the earth."

That is the face of terrorism. Plain and simple. So why the hesitation to brand it as such? Why is Al Qaeda the only accepted "terrorist" organization?

I don't mean to be disingenuous. It truly does seem to be a double standard. I've seen the copies of Time and Newsweek with "Terror in London" emblazoned all over them ... I've never seen the same coverage given to bombings in Israel (which at times have sadly killed more than 50+ people), nor headlines blazing, nor the word "terrorism" used, nor Christiann Amanpour (ick)rushing to the scene.

I guess it's still ok to kill Jews ... the world doesn't seem to make a big deal about it 50 years later, either.

Great. Just great ...

The Shrub nominated John Roberts Jr for the Supreme Court position vacated by Sandra Day O'Connor.

(stolen from "Alas, a blog" which seems to have left us temporarily)
John Roberts
Biography
Current Position:- U.S. Court of Appeals - D.C.

The Buzz:
- Known conservative but considered a ’stealth candidate’.
- Former supreme court clerk under Rehnquist
- Under the former Bush Administration, he played an active role in efforts to limit abortion. Roberts argued in a brief before the U.S. Supreme Court that “[w]e continue to believe that Roe was wrongly decided and should be overruled.”
- Age 50

From Law.Com:
Yet those who know Roberts say he, unlike Souter, is a reliable conservative who can be counted on to undermine if not immediately overturn liberal landmarks like abortion rights and affirmative action. Indicators of his true stripes cited by friends include: clerking for Rehnquist, membership in the Federalist Society, laboring in the Ronald Reagan White House counsel’s office and at the Justice Department into the Bush years, working with Kenneth Starr among others, and even his lunchtime conversations at Hogan & Hartson. “He is as conservative as you can get,” one friend puts it. In short, Roberts may combine the stealth appeal of Souter with the unwavering ideology of Scalia and Thomas.


~~~~~~~~~
So ... not only did we NOT get a woman justice or a person of colour but he gives us a person who is fundamentally opposed to affirmative action, is not a fan of the environment and who is anti-choice. And I quote ..."as an attorney in the Justice Departments of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush, Roberts repeatedly argued for the reversal of Roe v. Wade stating that there was "no support in the text, structure or history of the Constitution" for the reasoning behind Roe."

I better start packing my bags for Canada.

And one more thing ...

So after my shower this morning, I gently pressed my nipples - I don't exactly know why I do this but that a girlfriend told me I should do it to "toughen them up for breastfeeding".
Colostrum sprang forth readily ... as did blood from one place, mixed within the colostrum. I tried again, more gently. Same result.

Several hours later I tried yet one more time. Yep. Still some blood.

Yes, of course I googled the snot out of it, oh ye of little faith. And yes, it does happen. That is followed by the admonition to "call your doctor".

I'll be calling the OB tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm trying to quell my rising panic.

Highlights and lowlights of this past week

I'm going to try and write the post I started last night, but be forewarned ... my memory ain't what it used to be. And I can't blame the ice cream for that, it's definitely been worsening over the last several weeks.

So, highlights and lowlights of last week:

My parents visit here was wonderful. They truly made much of me and spoiled me rotten, including buying us a highly-rated "Baby's Dream" crib. My mother talked some sense into me regarding the need for a drop-side crib as my back does suck and this one is very similar to the convertible one I had spotted while out with my friend Stacy.

Mom also bought me a bunch of cotton shifts to sleep in - I usually sleep in the buff, but these are wonderful and methinks I'll be living in them over the next long while. She loved Buy Buy Baby and all the stuff in there ... I really need to trim down my registry! I think she and dad went a little bit nuts with the registry gun.

Dad kept talking about the bris and what we need to do to get the house ready. We'd love to, but it costs money and that we just don't have right now. In fairness, he and my mother (and John) worked at small things around the house, trying to fix them up. The house looks way better than when we bought it, but it does need a lot of work to the outside. We'd put up siding but ... there's that $$ issue again. We'd also love to pull up the badly stained carpet in the family room and put down laminate but ... same issue. We're just seriously tapped.

Property values around here are skyrocketing, so chances might be that we can refi and pay off some debt - I'm trying to look into that. The house beside us is for sale - it just sold last August for 285 ... we don't know why the couple that bought it are selling - we shower regularly, promise ... but I just googled their asking price and it's THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!! Comparable houses in our area are going for 320 ... yowza.

Given, they put on new siding and a new driveway and a bunch of other small renos, but holy shit, Batman. That's way more than we paid for ours only last April ...

OK, I digressed.

I've been feeling crappy all week long. Tuesday I ended up leaving work and heading to the OB because the stomach pains which had started the night before, were worsening and the phone advice I received to "put your feet up and take some Tylenol" wasn't quite doing it. Especially as I had done exactly that the night before and nada. Especially as I'm a nurse and "put your feet up" doesn't work.

I got to see hottie OB once more - he did a PV and found my cervix to be "long, closed and thick ... all the things we want in a cervix at this stage!" said he jovially. Ultrasound showed his Majesty with a heartbeat in the 140s and definitely less room in Chez Uterus than last ultrasound at 20 weeks. The pains? No one knew for sure ... a combination of constipation, possible urinary tract infection and round ligament pains were suggested. I burst into tears at some point ... knowing the baby was fine was really all that was important to me - I can handle pain and a lot of it ... but the coming and going of these pains as well as their increasing strength and not feeling much movement from HH ... well, I was beside myself.

I went home feeling strangely despondent and weird and have stayed there all week long. My first decent BM in a long time made me feel better - yes, laugh if you must but it makes me wonder if I had a stomach bug of some kind or if I overdid it while out with the 'rents.

The other thing that has been chapping my enormous (and growing)rear end is my work situation. My boss just doesn't seem to get it. Let me 'splain.

I work in an outpatient procedure center. We do procedures on patients and they usually go home an hour after their procedure if all is well. There are three stages to the process:
1) the admitting process, in which an RN takes a medical history, vital signs and starts an IV. They also answer the phone a lot and talk to patients.

2)The procedure itself, in which an RN takes the patient into the procedure room, gets them hooked up to vital signs monitors and oxygen and administers IV sedation per the physician's orders, notes labs taken (biopsies), assists the physician with the messier end of things, does abdominal compressions when necessary and monitors the patient throughout. Then she takes the patient by stretcher to the recovery room, which is stage 3. Most physicians have between 8-12 procedures like this a day.

3)Recovery room - the nurses monitor the patient as they wake up, insure their vital signs are stable and that they are in no discomfort. They move the patients into various recovery procedures, make sure they are drinking and attempt to get them out the door within an hour of their arrival their. They also deal with patients who are nauseated, throwing up, and other fine details of nursing which I will spare you. They also care for the families which have rejoined their loved ones at this point - and sometimes families need more care than the patients.

Out of all three, which to you sounds the least physically demanding? Guess which one I have barely been put in, despite the fact that our staffing has been more than adequate and that our nurse manager is well aware that my OB said "feet up when possible and take it easy" and is well aware of the cramps and discomfort I've been feeling this week?

So yeah, I'm bitter and ticked off. Especially when I see other nurses who are being coddled for crap and when I know that the nurse that gave birth recently barely saw the inside of a procedure room once she started getting big. Might I add in my bitterness that the same nurse was young and healthy with no risk factors?

Yes damnit, I know I sound whiny and pathetic. But you try pushing stretchers with sedated 200+ lb individuals by yourself when you're 6 months pregnant. It's not easy. And dealing with a physician who finds it really amusing to make a pregnant woman nauseated is so much fun too. Grrrrrr.

I'm contemplating calling my OB and asking for them to write me a note requesting lighter duty. At the same time, I don't want to be a "whiner". Too late for that, huh? But maybe that will turn a light on inside the manager's head.

So, I've been Crabby, Grumpy and Bitchy - in fact, every one of Snow White's dwarves have shown up. Today it was "Whiny". Although all of said dwarves seem to be easily placated with a variety of chocolate ice cream. Yeesh. I'm such a cliche.

Maybe I should tell the nurse manager to stock chocolate ice cream?

Long time no speak

I don't even know where to begin, this week was weird. Suffice it to say I had a tres shitty day at work today and it hasn't left me yet. John has tried to be nice but he doesn't know shit about really listening the way a good girlfriend does. He reminds me sometimes of seeing a doctor - get the stuff that's really important out in the first 3 minutes because after that you're tuned out. Not that he's been an asshole or anything, he's just being a man.

So here's the scoop. Mom and Dad came for a really nice visit - they made much of me, spent WAY too much money on me and on the baby ... it was impossible to stop them, from washing windows to washing draperies. They also bought us a beautiful crib and my father insisted on buying the mattress too. Word to the wise - do not buy your baby mattresses at specialty stores - the price at Targez and the W-store was over 60% less for the exact same thing. Yes, you read correctly. 60%. BRU online was 20 bucks more expensive. Even Sears was more expensive.

...OK. I am now feeling slightly better, because my beloved husband made dinner and agreed to "share" a beer with me. I took a larger part of ownership in said beer, something I rarely do when not preggers, so this was surprising. I'm sure His Highness will sleep well tonight - hopefully I will too. Sleep has been elusive of late and PLEASE do not say "it's in preparation for the baby!!" because I will then be obligated to hunt you down and kill you in some painful manner which I will not reveal here.

High Alert! High Alert! The husbandly one just walked in and presented me with his spoils from the grocery store ... Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk & Chocolate Therapy, as well as Starbuck's Java Chip. All this because I approached him after dinner and informed him morosely of a looming crisis ... the lack of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. Ah, what was I saying when I thought he wasn't listening earlier?? Of course, he did mention the possibility of nookie between this evening and tomorrow morning, but I do believe the shittiness of my day sunk into his brain. Yes, he did snort with laughter at the sheer cliche-edness of my demanding sulking whining requesting ice cream with fervour in this, my 24th week of pregnancy but even I can let some things go.

Now I had not previously experienced the delights of either Ben & Jerry's flavour but rest assured, o loyal readers, that I sampled mightily from each of the 3 selections and found them to be good. Nay, verily let me sing the praises of the NY Super Fudge Chunk because it was good and filled with crunchiness. I mean really - what's a good chocolate ice cream without crunchy bits???

Hmmm ... what was I saying pre chocolate induced stupor? Something about shitty, something about parents ... it's gone.

It will return tomorrow and so will I.

The things I go through for this kid ...

The hottie OB that I love turned to me this morning during my visit, chest hair peaking out from his scrubs and blue eyes twinkling, and said "So, what do you want to talk about this time?"

And bless him for not blinking an eyelid when I said "Well ... It seems that there's a chance I might actually be having a baby, so ... birth plans?" and then actually reached out and touched wood. He nodded sagely as if there was nothing at all odd with a woman nearly 6 months pregnant, in slighthuge denial about an impending birth. He mentioned viability ... "one more week for you!" he smiled warmly. He also mentioned things I should look out for, ie contractions, bleeding ... he may have mentioned more things but I was entranced by his smile.

So we talked about episiotomies (ixnay unless there is a really damned good reason) and drugs (don't want sedating meds)and his hospital recommendation (here is great), etc etc and ... then he dropped the bombshell. Not only will I not be having any more ultrasounds between now and delivery( barring something unforeseen), he's also leaving the practice in 2 weeks.

Which just elevated my chances of having Dr Shitty deliver my kid. *sigh*. I tell ya, the things I go through for this kid.

Good news is that His Highness is doing well, heart rate 120-130s (I have a laid back son), my weight gain is not horrific and my urine remains stellar. Blood pressure is 110/70 which is excellent and although the swelling remains and the carpal tunnel has worsened, so far all systems are go.

I got stabbed for thyroid levels and my next appointment will be my gestational diabetes testing. I am nearly 24 weeks. Holy crap. I may actually be having a baby.

Oh yeah ... and I registered this weekend. Yikes. Thank you, Auntie Em.

What's your out?

It's early morning of the Fourth and here I am, coffee in hand and typing away. Yes, damnit, feel honoured that I'm writing here instead of boinking my delectable husband.

It's odd - first trimester I had absolutely no interest in sex. None. Zip. Zero. Nada. That may have been due to the overwhelming nausea, but for a gal like me ... very odd.

Second trimester - it's been "bring it on, big man!". Crazy monkey sex, I'm telling you. Yes, I know it's more information than y'all needed but hey it's my blog, damnit. Now I had read that orgasms are easier to reach in second trimester (what, you think I google stuff for the baby??)but oh MAN! Even for a sexually unrepressed woman such as myself, these several weeks have been a joy and delight.

In honour of that bliss, I wish you all a Happy Fourth of July, as well as a belated Happy Canada Day to my Canadian followers (I believe that means you, Jocelyn).

Also, in honour of that bliss and all it entails, I urge you in the strongest manner, to email, call and write your senators and representatives and tell them in no uncertain terms that we do NOT want a political appointee on the Supreme Court. Please tell them how Roe v Wade should remain the law of the land, if for no other reason than the government should keep its morals off all of our bodies. It's a slippery slope, folks ... if Roe is overturned, how long before we have a real-life re-enactment of The Handmaid's Tale?

Yes, it may sound hysterical and knee-jerkish, but Bush seems to be in love with "embryo adoption". Seeing how virulently anti-choice those who do his thinking for him are and how an ultra-con nomination to the Supreme Court would put all branches of government under the thumb of aforementioned ultra-cons ... well, I'd be pretty damned afraid.

You see, I believe in my own right to self-determination. I don't need the government to tell me that they can do my thinking for me and decide that, for example, abortion is wrong. I can decide for myself, thankyouverymuch. I have the ability to reason, consider and weigh possibilities and rationale. White male conservatives should not have the ability to tell me how to think or what to do with my reproduction and body parts. Screw that - men have been doing that to women for centuries. Roe changed that. And Bush et al want to go back to the Taliban era.

But I have an out. I'm Canadian. And I tell you, nice people, that much though I love this country and all that goes with it, and no matter how proud I am that I will eventually get my US citizenship ... if Roe goes out, so do I. I will rise without question, sell what I own (hah!) here and move back to Canada, land of the free, home of the brave.

Yeah, it may be a chickenshit reaction. Sure, I could stay here and "fight". But why? In Canada, we had this same fight in the 80s when they finally decriminalized abortion (yeah, it was a slow process. You could get one before that, but it was tougher). I'm done.

It's 2005. We're supposedly an intelligent and (slightly) enlightened society. Why should I have to justify my decisions about MY body to anyone, especially a bunch of neocons? Why should I stay in a country where being white and a certain kind of Christian seems to, increasingly, be the only way to go?

I'll go home to Canada and take my husband and infant son with me -where it's safe. Where multi-culturalism is embraced and the taxes are high and things are by no means perfect. Where your surgery might get cancelled the day before it's scheduled even after you've been waiting 4 months for it, but you will eventually get it. Gratis. And where you get one year of paid maternity leave because the country believes it's important that mothers (or fathers)and infants do better when they've had time to bond and grow. Where hockey is the only national religion that counts.

So yeah, I have an out. I can move back home. What are you going to do?

I got nothing but the blues

It's official. I'm grumpy.

I'm not sure why it is that I'm grumpy, but I am. I ate Quiznos (salad). I lost my ColdStone Creamery virginity. I even got the latest Janet Evanovich book (in paperback) on sale at the generic giant superstore (GGSS) nearby.

Of course, I did all that while chauffeuring Jr around to A) a doctor's appointment for his umpteenth sinus infection and B)apply for jobs because I'll be damned if he sits on his keister all summer long. While it wasn't exactly painful, it was not high on my list of "Fun things to do on my day off".

We came home and I went for a nap/read. I finished the book (I'm a speed reader, have been since I can remember) and couldn't sleep. Now John is home and I realized I forgot to defrost something for dinner. *sigh*. Oh, and I'm still pregnant. In fact, for the first time, a woman at the GGSS accosted me out of the blue and wanted to know all my pregnancy details. She then informed me she might be seeing me at the nearby hospital when I give birth, as she had just applied there. I wasn't reassured.

Nothing earthshattering, nothing outstanding. Just grumpy. I got nothing, I tell you.

To comfort you, here's a picture of the squash I picked from the wilderness that my garden has become. I told you, I got nothing.



Oh and here's a belly pic or two. Because like I said, I got nothing but a bad case of the grumpys.





And please don't tell me how enormous I look for 5.5 months.

Oh, and here's a poll too :)

Open letter to His Highness, the baby

OK, so it's like this.

I'm not feeling a lot of movement from His Highness. I realize that His time is precious, what with all that growing, developing and swimming around in utero, but is it THAT much to ask Him to pay some attention to His mother's needs, I ask you?

So, having googled "fetal movement, 22 weeks" and "auscultating fetal heart tones" (with an adult stethoscope... )till I'm blue in the face, as well as lying on my back and attempting to feel the baby's heartbeat, I decided drastic action was necessary.

I sacrificed heavily by eating 2 ice cream sandwiches for breakfast in an attempt to stimulate His Highness. Not much doing.

So, Your Highness, when you get off your keister and wake up, would you please kick your mother vigorously several times to insure that she doesn't have a panic attack very very soon?

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Your loving mother.

The good, the bad and the stupid. Now with TMI!

Sorry I've been MIA but I've been feeling kinda hibernatorial. Don't know why, it's just that post-20 week crunch - you know, when you realize all the cool ultrasounds and tests are done with and now ... wait for it ... you are/might actually (be) having a baby. And there's TONS of shit to get done. And no more cool ultrasounds. So I've taken care of stuff that has nothing to do with the baby. Baby? There's a baby coming? What? I can't hear you!!

Father's day was nice and low key. Jr is with the biobitch and she didn't even have him call to wish his dad a happy day. Is it a wonder I call her the biobitch? But John and I spent a nice quiet Sunday together and it's all good. He is the best thing in my life. Fact.

My garden is going absolutely wild. Tomatoes are growing. Carrots are flourishing. We've eaten lettuce and spring onions already. The cantaloupe and watermelon are trying to take over everything. Squashes are popping up. Yikes.

My belly has also popped up, seemingly overnight. I'm either 5+ months pregnant or I'm getting very fat. One of the girls at work said "wow, you're getting really big!". Of course, she weighs as much as one of my (formidable) thighs, so she has no perspective. Hmmph.

Neat pregnancy things I've noticed:
1)Colostrum - yeah, I think it's neat, I'm kooky that way.
2)Lots more "flutters" and whooshes in my stomach. I actually felt one with my hand on my belly the other day. Cool beans.
3)A sign in the local supermarket's parking lot for "expectant mothers". No, I didn't use it. I won't till I'm HUGE. Which won't be long, it seems. Yikes.
4)Not gaining much weight lately. Yes!!
5)Stressing about baby registry and nursery crap.

Not-so-neat pregnancy things I've noticed:
1)Pain in hips and knees (oh my hips!)and other miscellany as noted below(although pain and swelling have improved with braces (wrists) and compression stockings (ankles). Nothing helping the hips yet.
2)Assvice and horrifying labour stories from women I work with.
3)Missing my sister's 50th birthday because I was too nervous to drive ten hours to Canada. Doc didn't think it was a good idea either.
4)Inconsistent bowel habits and stress incontinence. Yeah. I warned you about the TMI.
5)Stressing about baby registry and nursery crap.

Oh and stupid things people have said to me. I'll pick the best one.

It seems that fertiles don't have the market cornered on stupid comments. There is a woman at work who is infertile - she is mid-forties now and it's my understanding she and her husband (they are now separated)tried for a long time but couldn't conceive. She was semi-sympathetic to the things we were going through but she also kept talking about God and how God would provide and I just needed to have faith.

{sidebar}Now ... my faith and however I feel about God are my business ... it's my opinion that God, if s/he/it exists, has better things to do than involve itself in each person's individual issues - IOW, my fertility has little to do with God. Or religion, for that matter. Yes, I had an abortion when I was younger. No, my later lack of fertility was not "divine punishment". That kind of thing. Anyway, I'm digressing. {end sidebar}

I tend to be very sensitive around this woman. She really is a lovely person and her fertility issues are obviously painful for her - I know enough not to salt the wound. I say little to her about my pregnancy, although my burgeoning stomach speaks for itself - and for the most part, she has been happy for me, despite some pointed comments here and there about how I shouldn't complain, etc etc.

So, the other day she calls me to count narcotics(yeah, we have to count them each shift, we can't just take em home, more's the pity). It's the end of the day and I'm knackered. I mean absolutely beat - a long day on my feet and I'm exhausted. I walk over to her quietly and reach for the control book and she says to me nicely "are you tired?" . And I say softly "yeah. Very.".

And she says: "Well, you should just be GLAD you're pregnant!!".

I was blown away. I hadn't said anything. I hadn't opened my mouth. SHE asked!!

So I turned to her and said as nicely as I could: "Listen, J. YOU asked. If you don't want to know and don't want to hear about it, DON'T ASK!!!" She had the good grace to mumble her acknowledgment.

*sigh*. Some days you just can't win.

Oh and please go visit Day and wish her the best. She just gave birth to their much awaited (and gorgeous)baby boy and is having some complications. I know she'd love to hear from you!

And here he is ...

I was sitting at the computer this morning and all of the sudden .. whoosh!! I felt something in my belly. As if someone was tapping on the inside.

All the other feelings I've had I've put down to gas or other abdominal problems but this was unmistakable. Either that was the baby or my gas problem is growing a mind of its own. It was an extraordinary feeling and once everything dawned on me, I started to cry. Of course.

I also had my Level II ultrasound today and I'm happy to report it was a nice experience ... the baby is measuring a bit ahead, heart, brain, kidneys, everything is perfect and measuring well. He is facing downwards and is a wiggly worm, it was hard for the tech to get all the pictures - but eventually she did. I was hoping she wouldn't, so I'd get to go back. Oh well! But I saw his beautiful face ...

So now, without further ado ... (please excuse the shitty quality of my digital camera)


My son

All in the family

My sister T and her husband adopted two beautiful children from the former Soviet Union. Their first, a girl, is turning 7 this month. Their second, a boy, is nearly 3. They are wonderful, bright and precocious children who light up any room they are in and my sister and her husband are wonderful parents.

They adopted after trying to conceive for several years. T met her future husband while in her late thirties - they started trying to get pregnant before the wedding (she was nearly 37 at the time). After not much luck, they went to an RE and started with IUI, then IVF. She had one miscarriage at 8 weeks and then not long after that, a molar pregnancy. Her HCG levels remained elevated for over a year, so no treatment ... they decided to adopt and got their daughter. They tried IVF one more time - with her at 40 years old - with no luck. At that point they gave up and adopted their second child. Those children are their delight and joy - and worth every moment of previous heartache, per my sister.

Last year when I was pregnant with the enlarged yolk sac, we went up to Canada for a family do. I broke the news of my pregnancy very gently to my sister T, who was delighted for us but who burst into tears. She told me that no matter what, she would never want to change the path her life has taken - her children are the light of her life and everything she always wanted. Infertility had led those children to her and she would never let go. But it was hard for her, despite everything. She was wonderful to me when I miscarried - compassionate and very there - she completely understood. She let me grieve and held me, even if it was over the phone.

This time ... I think it's harder for her still. We told the family at Passover and T came over and held me tight, with tears of joy streaming down her face. As she cried and held me close, I could feel the pain emanating from her, the dark tears that mixed in with the others.

The other day she called me to tell me how overjoyed she is for us - how hard she knows our road has been. She doesn't want me to protect her from my pregnancy, which I've definitely been doing. She wants to see pics of my belly "maybe not every week" she said to me but since my family is far away in Toronto ... it's the only chance they get to really share in this. It's difficult to explain how the conversation with her went, exactly ... and hard for me to know where her line in the sand is. For example, when I mentioned feeling the baby, she told me that was really hard for her to hear that - because it's something she'll always miss out on, she'll never experience. Completely understandable, you know? But it makes it hard to know what to tell her and what not ...

I still haven't sent her a "belly pic" although I have sent one to my other sister D (with whom I'm closer) and to my mom. Something in me is holding back - she doesn't want me to protect her but ... I can't help it. I know that she spoke to D and they are both planning on coming for the bris. She wants to send me a book on Hebrew baby names and baby stuff from her son, we spoke about that but nothing has arrived. It's like walking on eggshells. I just don't know how much to say.

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?