Thursday, October 30, 2014

last dance

So this kid has a dance party starting every evening at about 4 p.m.  Sometimes she settles down at about 8, and sometimes she doesn't stop until after midnight. And now that she's a lot bigger, her John Travolta moves are perceptible to people other than just me--when she sticks her leg straight out, my belly looks a little like one of those old-school cartoons where the character gets hit over the head and the bump protrudes like a unicorn horn. Or my entire belly contorts into odd shapes. No joke.

Today is no different. In fact, she just sort of rolled over under my skin. I will never get used to that feeling, but I would never want to. I am going to miss that so much later when she's on the outside and it'll take more than a few soothing words and a reassuring rub to get her to settle down.

Today is also her official due date. And I'm still pregnant.

Here we are, the people whom the doctors thought would be lucky to be on this side of 24, 28, 30, 32, 37 weeks; WE ARE AT FULL TERM. That's 280 days. And something I never expected.  Despite the fact that no matter what anyone said, I always replied, "We're going all the way to 40! Plus one day, so she can come out on Halloween, her father's birthday." I was banking on it, but didn't *really* think it could happen. I never did get him a present, but now I don't have to. I could never top this.

I went to the doctor today and she said there's no point in letting Baby go past her due date. I'm 4 cm dilated, 100% effaced. In the office, the doctor stripped my membranes (basically detached the bag of waters from the uterus), which can sometimes get the process going. And, in case she doesn't feel like coming out on her own, the doctor scheduled us to show up tomorrow--Halloween, her father's birthday--at 7:15 a.m. to be induced.

So it's going to happen. Like, for real. I am still sort of in shock that by this time tomorrow, I'm going to be somebody's MOTHER. Like in charge of her well being. Like having to make decisions for her. Holy crap.

Wish me luck!

Bed rest, I will not be missing you.





Sunday, October 12, 2014

beyond expectations

So we are here at week 37. I can't believe it. And yet, I don't want this baby to come out yet.

There haven't been very many worry-free weeks (none, actually), and from what I gather about parenthood there never will be again. You're not *safe* after 12 weeks, 20 weeks, 24 weeks, 32 weeks or even 37 weeks of pregnancy. You're not *safe* at labor or when the kid is a toddler or a sixth-grader or a college freshman. Hell, you're not even *safe* when your kid has her own wedding, mortgage and career. So I guess worrying is going to be a part of life. Good thing I have so much practice.

This is going to sound mommy-blog cheesy, but I actually enjoy being pregnant. Even with all the puking and the stitch-pulling and bed rest and Dennis the Tricky Hip, it's pretty mindblowing to think there's a person in here whose favorite color might be yellow and favorite music might be rockabilly and favorite pastime could be lacrosse (all things I'm going to have to learn to appreciate). But she's inside me, bouncing around like nobody's business, and completely out of my control.

Other people see my belly randomly contorting into weird shapes and bulging out not of my will and tell me that they wish they could feel that feeling again. I know what they mean. I wish I could bottle this up and save it for when she goes away to college and I'm sitting in her bedroom and feeling lonely. I'd open it up, savor the exciting alien feeling and then whine to Jon about how quickly the time has gone.

But I've always been this way: During those three years when Jon and I were dating long distance, I'd start to get sad as soon as he got off the plane--pre-mourning the weekend together that would be over much too soon.

I feel like I've wasted so much of my life blinking.



Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Bonus post: Why I will never learn to like baseball

Jon is downstairs screaming his head off at the Dodgers. The other night when they lost, he lost his voice and did not sleep all night. I'm just waiting for the neighbors to call the cops one of these days--they probably think someone is getting beaten here, not just his favorite team on television.

week 36.5 and no baby in sight

So "strict bed rest" only lasted five days. And praise all that is lovely and good--I was going B-A-N-A-N-A-S truly not moving all day. Plus each day I was lying around watching DiY network and knitting and looking out the window was one fewer day I could use to spend with my kid after she comes out.

Went to see the doctor, and while I'm 2 cm dilated, there is no sign of baby yet. I am still holding out for a Halloween birthday (that she can share with her father). MD said I could go back to working from home.

Jon starts a new job next week, so he had planned to take this week off (I was supposed to have had the stitch removed this week). He is very busy building stuff for the nursery--today was the crib and cleaning everything. Yes, we are behind a "normal" expecting couple's schedule, but I have always done everything at the last minute. Plus much earlier than now, things were too tenuous.

I am caught up on watching Scandal and The Good Wife and will likely be starting Parenthood soon. I am also reading Jim Gaffigan's Dad is Fat, which has some very appropriate essays about being pregnant and having an infant. And funny. I feel guilty for not reading as much as I would have liked, but I can't multitask as much when reading--and I have become obsessed with multitasking.

Other than that, nothing new is going on. Hope all is well with you!

Saturday, September 27, 2014

I have a tricky hip and his name is Dennis

I had a doctor's appointment Wednesday. I had been having increasingly painful contractions for the last two weeks (about 30 minutes apart and strong enough to wake me all night). I had also been extremely uncomfortable for the previous few days. That morning I woke up to some, um, different stuff coming out of me that led me to believe that there might be some straining on the cervical cerclage stitch that could be pulling on the cervix, so I figured it was going to be an eventful day.

I went in (last progesterone shot, hooray!) and the doctor checked me—WOW that time hurt. She was like yeah, I'm taking your stitch out today so it doesn't tear your cervix (that had been scheduled for next week). She sent me straight to the hospital.

Contractions were still coming, but my physician had to attend to an emergency twin c-section (those kids are ok, thank goodness), so my mom and I were hanging tight and waiting for Jon to show up.

At about 7:15 p.m., my doctor came in, scootched up to my bed and snipped the stitch. It was pretty quick, but not pleasant. The stitch was basically wrapped around the cervix and cinched tight like a Hefty trash bag. It snapped SO loudly, I jumped at the noise. But I immediately felt a loosening down there.

They kept me for observation and I continued to have contractions till 10:30 p.m. when they sent me home. My doctor said no more work; I'm on "strict" bedrest now. She said if I needed to we could just turn around and come back to the hospital.

Since the stitch has been out, my back pain has lessened, I walk more like a normal pregnant person, instead of a 90-year-old without her walker. My inept, tricky right hip (whom I call Dennis) that never seems to want to cooperate because of nerve pain has started to play a little nicer. I SLEPT for the first time in several weeks (only got up twice to pee) and didn't have painful contractions! The last two days I have lay in bed/couch all day and had the tightening of contractions, but they are nothing compared with the ones I had the last few weeks with the stitch intact.

It's really weird not to work. Especially because my work team is down a couple people already and I'm leaving them a few weeks earlier than anticipated. But I have to say, the not having to work has been oddly relaxing. I watched six hours of Rehab Addict on Thursday--I've decided this house needs to be gutted and restored to how it was originally in 1968. I am knitting a few little items for the baby, bingewatching Scandal, trying to read more and trying to ignore my compulsion to want to clean everything.

Last night I had a mini freakout because the baby wasn't moving around as much as she normally does. Usually when I tracking her movements (doctor said 10 an hour is good), I get 10 in the first three minutes. But last night it took her almost the full hour to get to 10. And they weren't the regular jabs of appendages stretching out or shifting positions but instead lighter blip-like movements. Even after I had a little lemon sorbet. I got upset. My mind went to the edge of the scary place. I think it even rattled my even-keel husband. This morning she is moving around more like normal. The sweet parathas probably helped, too.

I need to keep more busy.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

week 34


Quick update: We are now at week 34. The baby is fantastic. Any problems I'm having can only be blamed on my body being angry at being taken for granted all this time and using this opportunity to make me pay for it. As a result, I now have a deep, lifelong respect for all that the disabled must endure.

I'm having fake-out (Braxton-Hicks) contractions that should be fake-painful as well, but that's apparently not how this works. My tricky hip (nerve pain that has made turning over in my sleep a ridiculous process since month two) makes everyone think I'm 11 months pregnant because of the way I waddle and cannot get in and out of vehicles without assistance.

But! This kid is doing great: She's got one foot up by her face and one foot down by her booty so she can simultaneously kick me in the groin and the ribs. And I don't mind one bit. I am so, so thankful to be here at this point. The cervix is 2.5 cm but soft like Jell-O and the physicians can feel the baby's head right there. There's a possibility I may be 1 cm dilated. I am having about four contractions an hour--which make for some interesting pauses during conference calls, let me tell you.

Anything can happen, folks. 


Wednesday, September 17, 2014

leather

photo by SecondPrint Productions

Happy third anniversary, Jon. That was the best day of my life...so far.

Friday, September 12, 2014



Brother. It is a little ironic that the one celebration that you could/wanted to spend with us on your actual birthday in a very, very long time didn't end up happening because I got scared and went to the hospital. I feel bad that you were hanging around near the restaurant for hours was while I was hooked up to monitors trying to figure out if those contractions were real and if I was leaking amniotic fluid (not really and no, everything turned out to be fine; it just took a really long time to confirm).

As much as you would never admit it, I know it's going to be different when this baby comes. Your wants and needs have been first priority for so much of the past three decades--how could they not? I don't resent you for it; I worry about you as much as mom and dad do. I know you have been wiggling out from under the parental blanket of concern for a long time, and you've done an exceptional job proving that you are your own man who can handle your own business. We don't need to worry, but it's not something we can turn off.

It has been tremendously hard for me the past few months to be the person that isn't allowed to help, can't even get up from a chair without extreme difficulty and is basically at the mercy of everyone else. The biggest lesson I've learned during the last few years is that apparently I can't control everything, which was clear to you since you were just a baby. It's probably just as hard for you to now be the one worrying, waiting for a call that everything is ok...or not. We've both done a lot of growing up in the last few years.

Happy Birthday.