am i that old yet??

"maybe some people can't get pregnant for a reason"

That's really high up on my list of ass-hat comments... but I confess, over the last few weeks, I've thought it more than once.. I was thinking it about myself (I'm not that big of an ass-hat that I'd justify it for anyone else), but still..

I've spent a lot of time thinking about my health, and feeling pretty old. The way-too-young resident at the emergency room a few weeks ago made the comment "wow, you've got a pretty interesting medical history" .. I hadn't really thought about it before then. I had just finished listing my chronic conditions, and allergies... there's a few of each of those, and it seems like with each year I age, I'm getting a little more added on to my list.

It didn't help that when I was talking to my mom, she commented that I'm on a lot of the same meds that my dad is on, or has been on. He's an overweight diabetic in his 50s, I'm a reasonably healthy not-too-overweight in my early 30s... and we're taking the same medications. He keeps a list of all his medications because there's too many to remember. If I were actually taking everything they prescribed for me* I'd need a list too. Damn.

On the bright side, my blood pressure has returned to normal. If you define normal as prehypertensive, that is. I can get my systolic number into normal range, but my diastolic is stubborn. I should be thrilled about that. The downside to that is that it's high-normal on medication. My doc, he wasn't kidding about wanting me on blood pressure meds long-term. At my visit the other day, he renewed my prescription for the next three months, and suggested I see a cardiologist. Ya know, when the doc starts throwing out terms like "cardiologist", I start getting depressed.

And then yesterday I watched one too many TV shows where otherwise healthy (and young!) people suddenly dropped dead from rare but serious complications of blood pressure. Listen to Dr. G lecture about how high blood pressure is a silent killer, often with no symptoms, and you too can question your mortality.

So it made me wonder for a short minute if perhaps the reason I had difficulty getting pregnant was because my body wasn't sure if could handle gestating the Bean... and then I looked at her, my sweet princess, and realized.. I wouldn't change it for the world. My docs aren't concerned for my health, they're looking at all this as manageable, no serious consequences. Probably, I should just appreciate what I've got, and stop worrying that every ache or twinge anywhere near my chest is a heart attack waiting to happen.


Hey, I wouldn't be me if I didn't worry endlessly, and for no reason...

Coming soon: More musings on my elderly status, complete with my thoughts on how it feels to be that woman who listens to the oldies station while tooling around town running grown-up errands in a minivan.


*I'm not advocating skipping necessary prescriptions. I just got sick of taking a dozen pills, and I was questioning just how many chemicals I wanted Princess Bean ingesting with her breastmilk. So I ditched the ones I no longer needed.

.. give it a vacation!

I read a lot about how American people work too hard/too much and don't take enough time off.. but no one ever seems to acknowledge the plight of the poor overworked uterus.

Hey, I'm totally not one of those slave-driving ute-bosses. Mine gets time off for bad behavior (courtesy of the anovulatory pcos cycles), and even with that, it negotiated an agreement where it only has to put in pregnancy-induced overtime every few years and then gets a year off afterwards (we call that the "lactational amenorrhea treaty").

You'd think it would treat me better, under the circumstances.

The Duggars use and abuse the ute, forcing it into gestation every other year or so, with barely a break in between.. and yet, it's still there practically jumping up and down waiting to be wrestled into service again.

Some day I'll figure out how they're doing it.

Coming up for air...

I'm not usually one to publicly post pics of the family, but... since so many of you held my hand, sent emails and supported me through the more neurotic parts of my pregnancy, I wanted to show you my Bean.. the baby formerly known as RiceCake:

I didn't give many details when I announced her birth, so here's the short version - she was born after about 16 hours of labor (not constant - it stalled out a few times); the induction never happened, I went into labor a few hours before it was to start. I did get my v*bac, although I also got a lot more medical intervention than I thought I wanted. In the end, I really didn't care. Bean was 7 lbs, 2.8 ounces and 20" long (a full inch and nearly a pound more than G was, she still looked incredibly small to me). All those times that I worried during pregnancy because she wasn't moving much... that's just her personality. She's mellow and easy, and sleeps incredibly well - by a week old, she was sleeping a 6-8 hour stretch at night. I'm am in love, and in awe, and so very glad that she's here. I won't say the anxiety has completely disappeared, but it has changed.

In the week and a half since she was born, I've been pretty scarce. While I'd like to say that I was busy basking in the glow of new-motherhood, and being so overwhelmed with love for the babe that I was just unable to type, that would only be half of it. The other half:

~ We spent the first week busy with family stuff, trying to cram in as much baby-daddy time as we could before B left. He sailed on Monday, and it was so much harder than even I had imagined. Watching him kiss Bean goodbye was just heartbreaking, knowing that by the time he sees her again, she will have grown so much that she will be an entirely different child. It's not the first time I've ever seen B cry, but it was one of the more painful times.

~ after that, G celebrated his 4th birthday. This is the first time since his very first birthday where he had both his dad and his brother here. Come to think of it, it's the first time since then that he's had either of them here for his birthday, let alone both. He was as thrilled with that as he was with the transf*rmers that he got.

~ next... Bean's umbilical cord fell off early. Apparently it wasn't entirely healed, because yesterday it started to bleed. Since her pedi can't see her til next week, they suggested I visit the acute care clinic to have it examined, and Bean was introduced to the wonders of a walk-in medical clinic. It was my first solo trip with two kids. It was so much fun (ha!) that I am dreading tomorrow's scheduled trip to the grocery store. I never realized just how high-maintenance G really was til I had someone else to compare him to. Of the two, the newborn is far easier than the four-year-old. Never thought that would be the case.

~ and finally... When Bean was six days old, I started having some trouble with my blood pressure. That's still not fixed, but I'm learning to live with the perpetual headache, the random visual disturbances (it's like clomid all over again!) and the annoying feeling of something being 'not right'. This is nearly the exact same thing that happened after G's birth, although it went away much faster that time. At any rate, my trip to the ER today produced some real results - somehow, they found me an appointment with a real OB on Friday. Since the doc I saw last week wasn't an OB, she prescribed me the smallest possible dose of medication that might help me - it's not helping, but since I'm breastfeeding, I can't seem to get a prescription for anything stronger out of a non-OB. Hoping for better luck on Friday.

The good news is that they ruled out postpartum pre-eclampsia, and/or HELLP syndrome, so it's just my blood pressure. The bad news is that they think I'll need to be on blood pressure meds long-term this time. At this point, I just want to feel better... and hey, if I'm really searching for a sliver lining to this, I do have to admit that it's really taken my mind off of B leaving... and anything (that isn't life-threatening) that can make week 1 of a deployment easier is a welcome development.

Still, we're hoping that the upcoming week will be a little less eventful.

RiceCake arrived safely on Saturday evening.

She's beautiful.

I have a little update... I had my appointment this morning. I have had absolutely no cervical change in the last 5 days. RiceCake is comfortable and doesn't seem to be going anywhere. I'm ok with this.

Actually, feeling a lot better than I was last night (for some odd reason, I have a 12-24 hour adjustment period before new ideas or decisions feel ok to me).

Thanks for the comments. It definitely IS a victory that I've carried this baby to term. A year ago, I'd have given a limb to be in this position. I'd have volunteered for the section (and offered up the limb at the same time - save my insurance a little $$ in anesthesia costs) just for the privilege of being full-term.. looking at it that way, this really isn't the end of the world. It's small stuff. I can handle small stuff.

marie-baguette... the timing of this birth is tricky. I have at most 5 more days. My doctor doesn't allow anything past 41 weeks. I'm not comfortable waiting that long. Ordinarily, I'd be all about waiting til babe's ready, and letting things take their natural course, but I do have other things that need consideration at this point. We have very few days left before B leaves. I will be on my own with a newborn and a super-active 4-year-old. Knowing that I already have a high chance of a repeat cesarean, I just don't think the potential benefit of cooking RiceCake for an extra few days balances out the risk of not having time to recover before that. I wish things were different.. but they're not. I have to do what I can with the options I've got... and unfortunately, given the time restrictions placed on me by my doctors, and the fact that this babe appears to be in no hurry to be born, it's not so much a question of if we will evict him or her, but when.

.. and dd... I heart you. Reading your comment made me realize that this isn't about perfection, or what I want, it's about finding that peace with what is... and about understanding that each scary piece of the puzzle is just that - one piece.. and I need to take each one individually and deal with it on its own. That's something I struggle with in so many areas - all the little stuff overwhelms me until I can't see that I'm taking many tiny things and making them into one giant thing that is bigger, and scarier than it ever should be.

p.s.. you coulda just given me a swift kick in the arse, you know - I'm pretty sure I deserve it after last night's whine-fest... but you didn't. I'm going to remember that next time you're thinking you're not a kind person...

Importantly, I am at peace with the decisions we made today.

.. and speaking of those decisions... we're going in for an induction tomorrow. I know that inducing reduces my chances for a vag birth, but I'm ok with that. I've dealt with the little emotions, and while I'm still apprehensive about the possibilities, I'm determined to take it one day at a time. If I need to, I can handle one hour, or even one minute at a time... and I'm going to worry about things if they come up, rather than pre-handling all my angst at once. I don't expect I'll be totally successful at that (since, you know, worrying just in case is sort of a hobby of mine), but I'll just keep trying til I get it right... if I can be half as stubborn as the babe I'm baking, it shouldn't be so hard.

40w, 2d

In just about 12 hours, I have an appointment.

It looks like I'll be asking to schedule a c-section at that appointment.

I can't even really express how upset I am about this. It seems like such a stupid thing to be upset about.. carrying a baby to term (and beyond) is hardly a bad thing, right?

... but it feels like my body has failed me.

Again.

I couldn't get this babe in there without help, and now I can't get him/her out on my own.

I've said all along that my biggest fear was having a cesarean just before B deploys. If I wait any longer, that will be exactly what happens.

Nobody ever promised me life would be fair.

Nobody ever promised me that reproduction, birth or parenthood would be easy.

So why does it bother me to find out that it's not?

... and in the middle of the night, when my house is quiet and it's just me sitting here with my thoughts, I can admit this - I'm scared to death of dealing with all this on my own. I've had a lot of time to prepare, but I'm just not ready for B to leave. Admitting that we need to make this decision now means admitting that he really is going.

I can do this.

36w, 5d

.. and I'm so over being pregnant.

Not for the usual reasons, tho.

So far, things have been very uneventful, fortunately.

I never did get morning sickness, or boobs too sore to breathe on, and even the third-trimester aches and pains have been pretty bearable...

.. but the closer I get to my due date, the more I wish I had some v@lium. Or something.

So I panicked again this morning.

Rice really wasn't moving.

Which shouldn't surprise me - this babe is not a morning person lately, and rarely moves between breakfast and lunch.

.. but I still totally freaked.

I was thisclose to going in to get checked out (no sh!t, I even had G dressed and we were on our way to the neighbor's to see if he could hang there for a couple of hours) when Rice got hiccups and I felt a little better. But only a little.

I'm still on edge. I'm ok when the babe is active and moving, but every time there's a lull in that pattern, I start to worry again.

.. which is why I can't wait until s/he is born. I just can't handle much more pregnancy.

I really, truly wanted to be able to relax and enjoy this time, but that's so much harder than I expected.

I wanted to be able to be 'normal' and prepare and plan and go nuts over tiny little clothes and things.. but every time I buy something or make something for this babe, I get paranoid all over again. Yesterday I went shopping for a few last-minute things. Today I woke up convinced I might not need any of them. It sucks, and it's exhausting trying to talk myself out of being scared.

I had to step away from Dr Google, and now the 'net is not my friend. It's filled with scary stories and possibilities and improbable things for me to worry about.

I just want to be done. I want to be able to hold my babe in my arms, and see that she's ok, and know that if I'm worried, reassurance is just a few breaths away, rather than the interminable amount of time it takes me to try and interpret a heart rate on a doppler... because just hearing it isn't enough any more - I need to hear if there are the right amount of accels, if they coincide with movement, and if things sound the same as they have yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.

.. and I have weeks of this stretching ahead of me. Only a few weeks, but even those weeks seem long. I have stopped taking things day by day and have started looking at them hour by hour. When it it particularly rough, it is minute by minute. Each new minute can bring with it new worries...

I can get through this, I will get through this... but I do not think it will be easy.

What I need to do is step back.. stop overanalyzing, and just do what I can to be busy enough that my mind is not worrying.

.. and to do that, I need to step back from my blog. I know it seems like I already have, because I have certainly not been posting as much the last few months.. but the truth is, it's not the posting as much as the publishing that's been difficult for me. I have put my thoughts down often, and stopped just shy of clicking that publish button.

I blog to work out the problems and issues in my mind so that they won't take over my life. Now that I've reached the point where the time I spend blogging serves just to reinforce my fears, it's time for a break.

See you in a few weeks...

someone found some patience

I just wanted to update on the doctor situation - I called my clinic (again) this morning to try and make an appointment for next week. I was told (again) that they had nothing open and I should call back tomorrow after 1:00 and see if anything came up.

I hung up with the clinic and called the hospital's patient advocate, who promised to look into it and get back with me.

Got a call back this afternoon from the clinic's head scheduler, who had miraculously created an appointment tomorrow at 9AM.

It's earlier than I wanted - I'm supposed to go next week, not this week... but I'll take what I can get.

The even bigger miracle was that when I called the hospital day care, they had a slot open for tomorrow morning... I can actually get my beta strep test without G's prying eyes checking out my cervix.

Now that, my friends, makes for a good day.

Sweet Katie...

The last few days I've felt jittery and unsure about this pregnancy. Not quite paranoid, but sincerely worried.

I couldn't figure out why... until I realized the date.

Today would have been the 14th birthday of my first niece.

Tomorrow marks the 14th anniversary of her death.

I'm glad I remembered... although it makes me sad to think about her, I would be more sad to think that I forgot about her.

I have no more f'ing patience.

"We appreciate your patience.. your call is important to us..."

Uh-huh. That's why I've been on hold for the last 12 minutes?

I would never have thought that making a doctors' appointment would be so nerve-wracking. I've been calling since last week, and the earliest appointment they had last I checked (well, last I actually had a person on the line to speak with) was July 10.

I'm usually pretty flexible with this kind of stuff, but I'm getting a little fed up here. I can't exactly wait til July 10th. I'm kind of hoping to actually give birth before then. Or right around then.

Still on hold.. 15 minutes and counting...

Lots of people complain about military medicine. Mostly, I don't have a problem with it. I like it, even. I haven't ever been denied coverage for anything (forced to jump through a few hoops maybe, but that happens with a lot of insurance companies), I've never had a doctor who was dangerously incompetent, and only a few minor issues with attitudes... but this is really tweaking my last nerve.

18 minutes... finally got someone on the line.. and there are no appointments until July 11.

Is it too late to switch to a different doctor?

.. and oh yeah...

I had my official MD appointment earlier this week. My blood pressure had dropped to the lowest it's been in months, my swelling was virtually non-existant and things looked great. Looks like I might get that V*BAC after all.

One is just fine with me

I'm sure by now most of you have heard/read about the recent sets of sextuplets in the news.

Why is it that the only time IF rates nationwide headlines, it's in that "freak of nature" sense? You know, where everyone reads it and thinks "that's so unnatural" .. because let's face it, gestating six IS unnatural.

I find this frustrating, to say the least.

When we went through our IUI's, the word 'sextuplets' came up a lot... my friends, my family, they're ALL familiar with the whole fertility-drugs-produce-multiples... they didn't seem to understand that most women have ONE baby. 'Cause, you know, when I got knocked up with RiceCake, it didn't make the news. There was no headline screaming about how femar@ helped us make ONE baby. When Rice is born, there will be no frenzied media interviews, no website set up for donations, no controversy about whether or not B & I 'played God' or took a big risk with our lives, or our child's life.

I lost count of the number of times I reassured my loved ones that we weren't trying for half a dozen, that we were, in fact, actively working to prevent that sort of thing. That it would be irresponsible medical care if my doctor didn't keep tabs on my follicles and if I didn't follow his advice about when to try and when not to try... because that's what I think when I hear about 5 or 6 or 7 babies born at once - someone screwed up. That's not an outcome that should ever happen.

There is no publicity for my kinda IF treatment, or my kinda results, even though, in my RE's words, this was "an absolute perfect outcome - a single intrauterine pregnancy".*

I am not who the public thinks of when they think of fertility drugs, or IUI.

They think of the women who have birthed four or five or six babies at once.

Because that is the face the media has put to infertility.

That is not the norm.

I'm awful sick of the assumption that everyone who undergoes fertility treatment is playing reproductive roulette. On one of those trainwreck documentaries that I can't seem to turn off, the father of yet another oversized brood stated "any time someone uses infertility treatment, they have to expect multiples" .. or something along those lines... Dude... no... maybe they have to be willing to accept the possibility, but they don't have to expect it. (yeah, that guy was another "here's your clomid, call me in a month" parent)

.. and I don't see it changing any time soon.




*that was his assessment at my first ultrasound. He was immensely pleased. So was I.

VBAC: tentatively on

I'm calling it 'tentatively' because I did NOT get to speak with an actual doctor today* so I have no 'official' confirmation, but the nurse did look over my old records and she didn't see anything to contraindicate an attempt at a V*BAC.

.. on the other hand, I'm swelling up like one of those bloated dinosaurs that G likes so much, and my blood pressue is 'a little high', which means there is still a chance that things will go balls-up like they did with G, and Rice will be born early, which likely means a c-section for me.

So.. in the ultimate passive-aggressive approach to birth, I'm letting the fates decide. If I need an induction, we'll skip the formalities and break out the scalpel. If not, I'll go with the V*BAC.

Oh yeah, nothing like letting my ambivalence take center stage in my medical care!!

... after the appointment, B & I headed over to my parents' house to check on The Boy... finding him happily scouring the back yard for "roller-bugs", we headed out to the movies. We checked out the latest in the ever-growing line of Pirates movies (yeah, you know the one I mean), which wasn't half as bad as I was expecting... save for the ending, which I hated. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it and wants to, but it's pretty safe to say it's not a good thing to watch when you're an over-emotional hormonal chickie with a hubby who's deploying in less than two months. Apparently pirates are close enough to sailors when it comes to my knee-jerk tear reaction at seeing them sail away.

.. last but definitely not least, a small thing I noticed while at my OB appointment:

They're undergoing massive renovations there, and in the midst of the construction I saw a tiny sign that advised all patients that the RE clinic was moving. In just a short while, they will no longer be located in the OB clinic. Although I'm sure that logically, sharing office space with obstetrics made sense to some ass-hat, I always thought it was highly insensitive that the RE waiting room was filled with pregnancy and babies. It's about time someone corrected that... Maybe a steady parade of women will gather some odd looks down in the urology clinic, but it's a damn sight better than taking the walk of shame past all those #$%! bellies after a failed cycle. Better to be seen in urology, and outed as an Infertile than spend 15 minutes sitting in the OB waiting room blinking back tears... it's a small step, but so important, I think.




*which should not be surprising as I have yet to speak to anyone with the initials "MD" after their name - since I was released from the RE clinic, I've been seeing nurses. Just nurses. Some would call this military medicine at its finest, but hey - no skin off my back. It's oddly reassuring that things have been so uneventful thus far that I haven't rated an appointment with the big paychecks yet. I'm wondering if I can stretch this a little further and have this be the first pregnancy I've ever heard of where the first doctoral appearance is at delivery. I bet I can.

Decisions, decisions... (birth-related)

I have two days left to finalize my thoughts about how I want Rice to be born. The big discussion appointment is Friday.

You'd think this would be a no-brainer.. when the doc asks, I should just say "healthy" and leave it at that, huh?

Only, they want ME to decide if I want a planned c-section or if I want to attempt the famed V*BAC. Before Friday. At the end of this appiointment, I will either have committed to attempting the V*B, or I will have scheduled a repeat cesarean.

Most people I know have really strong feelings one way or another, and knew from the moment of conception (if not before) exactly what typs of birth they wanted.

Me, I'm still walkin' to the beat of that different drummer. OK, fine, if you want to get technical, I'm wafflin' to the beat of that different drummer.

Before Rice was conceived, I was all kinds of gung-ho about the idea of a vag birth. I didn't ever-ever-ever want to be cut open again. The very idea of a repeat section was enough to make me wrinkle my nose.

Pretty easy to be an idealist when it's all theoretical, eh?

Now, I'm not so sure.

I'll be honest. I'm afraid of the V*B. I'm not afraid of the pain (seriously - I went through a hellish section recovery with no drugs after the first 36 hours. I think I can handle the pain. even without the epidural*.. there are plenty of other drugs out there).

I'm afraid of failure. Again.

I'll spare you the details, but G was birthed by my doc in an emergency cesarean, after a failed induction.

Oh yes, I failed at birthing. After, you know, I'd spent a couple years failing at conceiving. I gave my girly bits a mental high-five for coming through for me yet again.

I don't really want to go through that again... and in my wonky logic, choosing a repeat section means I'm in control - it's not a failure of my body, it's a decision of my mind. And I trust my mind ever-so-much more than my body.

See, that makes sense, right? Somehow in my mind, it's better to choose the worse option than to attempt the better one and have the decision forced on me if my bits are uncooperative again.. and choosing a section would make it oodles easier to plan. Given our timing, and B's deployment, and the need to make arrangements for the kids, it makes sense to me. I could guarantee that I'd have a minimum of two weeks' recovery before B leaves, and both G & my stepson would be prepared in advance, knowing exactly which day they'd be spending with the g'parents... not to mention the g'parents would know exactly when to take off work.

.. and yet... I remember the recovery from G's birth**.

I want to remember Rice's first few weeks, not have them obscured in a fog of pain and tears. I want to be able to pick up my child without wincing. I want to be able to walk across the room to gaze at my sleeping babe without having to decide if it's really worth the effort. I won't have the luxury of having B here to pick up the slack if my recovery takes weeks again, and I will have to be able to keep up with G.

Therein lies the problem. If I decide to try labor and a vag birth, I have the chance of escaping the section, but I risk feeling like I've failed again. If I choose the cesarean, then I guarantee the more difficult physical recovery, but it comes with an easier mental recovery.

Tough decision.

.. and through it all, the little voice in my head reminds me that my body might not fail again. That I'll regret not taking the chance. That I am not the same person I was four years ago, and HOW Rice is birthed will not be as important to me as it was then. That I can accept whatever method is used because the end result is more important.

That little voice has the ring of truth to it... and I suppose that's all I need to know to make this decision.






*long story short, that whole uterine rupture thing has me freaked.I mean, if i have an epidural and can't feel a thing, it's theoretically possible that I'd be able to rupture and not notice, right? I'm pretty sure I don't want that. I know it's super-rare, but I am so not one to tempt fate with my girly bits... so if I go the vag route, I'd want to do it epi-free.

**standard disclaimer: my section recovery was not typical.. instead of the usual up and walking around within hours or days, I was hobbling like my g'ma for weeks. I wasn't allowed to leave the house for over two weeks, except for doctors' appointments (which were three-times-a-week for the first month), and I wasn't allowed to drive a car for six weeks... it was months before I could lift anything heavier than my little G without pain, and those are months I don't have NOW...

Some things are sacred...

My husband is asleep on the couch right now. I haven't seen him in almost three weeks. Probably, I should be sitting with him, thrilled just to have him in the house again.


Instead, I'm considering smacking him upside the head. He's a pretty easy target, being all sick and pathetic.


Why? You ask.... he touched my thermostat.


And no, I don't mean that in some euphemistic, inappropriate way. I mean he turned my air conditioning OFF.


Bastard.


He started complaining it was cold in the house a few minutes after he got home.


Which sorta tweaked my irritation radar - he's not the first to comment that it's arctic. F'ing lightweights - it's set on 72... no ice crystals forming anywhere.


But he's sick. And I was feeling a bit of pity for that.

So I got him a blanket, and opened a window next to the couch so he wouldn't freeze to death... and then I went to make dinner.


Somehow, while he was watching a movie with G, and while I was cooking, he found the time to turn my a/c OFF without properly notifying me. Or improperly notifying me for that matter.

Surely, that is grounds for a pounding. Isn't it?

almost 33 weeks, the update

I've got a million posts I've started, saved and discarded.

Somehow, nothing I write is coming together in the right way... I get hopelessly lost in a tangent, or it's too baby-related, or something... but I want to update.

I'm getting more and more uncomfortable by the day. I'm addicted to tums. My back is imploding. I think I have some stretch marks starting... and I'm thrilled to death with all of it.

My mom suggested I start cocoa buttering my belly to prevent the impending stretch marks from worsening and all I could think was no way - I've earned these fuckers and I want 'em.

Clearly, I am not right.

And I don't care.

I could live without the bitchiness, or the inability to be outside for more than 10 minutes without overheating, but all the other 'normal' pregnancy things are exciting to me.

Foot in my ribs? Holy shite, there's a foot IN ME!!

Painful foot in my ribs? Holy shite, that babe's growing! Actually growing!

Sore back? Check it out - my belly's grown and it's making my spine curve in funny ways!! Because Holy Shite, I've made it to the third trimester!!

Yeah, you get the idea.

And I'm not right. But I still don't care... because dammit, I've made it this far.

32 weeks & a few days..

Also known as "holy shit, how did this happen already??!"

Warning - Totally baby-related posting.

I did a few baby things this weekend.

Item #1 - I hit the yard sales, looking for tiny clothes to supplement the few things I had. Or at least the few things I thought I had.

Item #2 - I got out the smallish box labeled "baby clothes: preemie, newborn 0-3 months" that I had carefully packed away after G finally put on a few pounds.

Totally shoulda done that in reverse order.

In my memory, that smallish box contained mostly blue stuff, with an occasional gender-neutral item thrown in here or there... and maybe one newborn gown. Since, you know, I didn't like gowns til after G was born, and only bought boy-appropriate clothing 'cause we knew what his plumbing looked like before I even started shopping.

So.. when I was yard sale-ing, I bought a bunch of newborn gowns (gender neutral) and small, neutral outfits... and yeah, a few more frilly pink things I totally couldn't resist.

... and then I unpacked the box, which was far larger than expected, and discovered that when G was small, he wore a LOT of neutral outfits. And many more gowns than I realized. Not to mention, outfits that small, you can pack a buttload of 'em into one not-so-smallish box. Holy shit, that newborn sleep-deprived amnesia is a very real thing. Apparently, I had no idea what my child wore his first few months.. or how much of it I actually had.

Poor Rice... will be wearing many, many gowns. Even if he-or-she decides to dirty a gown an hour, we'll still be set for at least a day. And as for gender-neutral, I swear, I didn't realize that G wore so much green, orange, yellow & white. Even the little blue-and-white sleeper with the cute little bunny feet is way more feminine than I remembered. And I remembered it being pretty feminine - we used to call it G's Ralphie suit.

I found two outfits that are clearly 'boy'.

I have bought one onesie that's pretty boyish.

And at least half a dozen dresses now.

I am definitely hoping that Rice doesn't have outdoor plumbing, so to speak. That fabulous denim jumper with the little ladybugs and ruffled butt-cover will look a bit funny on a boy. Even if it IS blue, and fits my criteria for 'gender-neutral'. I mean, really, since it's both a dress (girly) AND blue (boyish), the two balance each other out and create a seriously neutral outfit, right?

OK, who else is thinking that maybe I shoulda found out the gender at that last ultrasound??

Yeah.

.. and let me repeat - holy shit.. less than 8 weeks to go.

Chicken n' dumplings...

That's what's for dinner tonight. The chicken is already simmering. It's making me hungry and it won't even be ready for a couple more hours.

I decided yesterday that we'd have chicken & dumplings tonight. It's one of my comfort foods, one that I love no matter how often I've had it, and one that I'll decide to make at the slightest provocation. The mere mention of chicken is usually enough for me to drag out the big pot and start boiling some water.

I was on the phone with a friend and she was talking about chicken, how she doesn't like it... and I got a sudden craving for dumplings.

So I'm thinking about her as I'm cooking... and thinking about her makes me think about fertility. Because she talks about it a lot.

I guess you'd call her a habitual miscarry-er. Sorry, I just can't use the phrase 'habitual aborter' however medically correct it may be. She's had a couple of ectopics, and a few miscarriages. She has no idea why. She's never had any testing done... and now that she's engaged to a man who does not want (more*) children, she is facing the prospect of a life without ever having those answers, or having a child.

Which, I guess, is her prerogative. Even if I don't understand it, it's not my decision.

But it does bother me. Especially since I can see how much it bothers her.

She's the best example of the passive approach to infertility that I know. I'm talking about the women (or men, tho I've not met any of those) who are profoundly affected by an inability to conceive or carry, but who are unwilling to walk the path of testing and treatment. Not unable, but unwilling.

Since I'm pretty wide-open about our fertility, I hear a lot of stories from the women I know. Some of them want information on where to go, what options are open or just how to deal with the frustration and emotion. I'm all about that.

.. and yet, I get a ton of The Others, too.

The ones who want a shoulder to cry on when they're not pregnant, or someone to understand their pain... despite the fact that they're unwilling to actually do anything to change their situation, or despite the fact that they've voluntarily placed themselves in a situation that is not going to change. Ever.

I can cry for months with the woman who's taking a break from treatment because of a deployment, a cyst or just plain exhaustion. I will gladly hold the hand of a friend or stranger who is frustrated that testing moves so slowly, or produces no answers. I can be there forever for a person whose infertility is unexplained and untreatable... but I have a hard time relating to the woman who is disappointed month after month, but has no plans to even try to move ahead and do something. Even if that something isn't a treatment I would have chosen.. even if that something is just a firm belief in a higher power who will assist when it's time... or an alternative approach that differs from my choices. Or a resolve to move on to a new phase in life, one that doesn't involve reproduction. At least that something I can understand.

Sitting back and doing nothing, with no plans to ever do anything.. that's the something I don't understand. I can't understand, no matter how much I try. It's not even a something, it's a nothing.

How do you deal with the friend whose approach is a nothing? How do you bite your tongue and be supportive when what you really want to do is start belting out suggestions? I haven't found that happy medium yet. For now, I'm taking a passive approach of my own, steering the conversation towards easier topics.

And making my chicken n' dumplings...








*he has four already, from previous relationships.

Iron is the debil!

They've put me on iron supplements to combat a touch of anemia.

I was actually excited about that. Iron is a normal pregnant supplement for a normal pregnancy... and besides, anything that can explain and counteract the crushing exhaustion I've been feeling, that's just a bonus.

So, I've been waiting for the whole constipation thing to kick in. I mean, that's a normal side effect and I've been waiting.

My constipation, it never showed up. I did, however notice increasing bathroom trips in the last few days, kinda like when I was on met*formin at first. When my intestines started waking me up with their wailing, I started to worry.

I mean, constipation, that's normal... but this? That's about as opposite from constipation as you can get. Literally. Maybe I'm some medical freak. Maybe I have some serious disease that makes iron react differently. Maybe the iron isn't being absorbed and I'm actually making myself worse.

So... I checked with my Dr Google and discovered that my particular supplement has a built-in stool softener. Just in case.

What. The. Hell?

We're going to talk about this at next week's appointment, but until then I'm actively seeking ways to make myself constipated.

Because it's all about being normal... and self-induced constipation, that's definitely normal in some parallel universe.

Parenting advice? Please?

Ordinarily, this is the type of thing I'd take to my not-even-close-to-anonymous personal blog, but since the child in question has a mother who reads that blog, that's probably not the best idea... so here I am, asking for parenting advice on an IF blog...


G has this friend, 'Junior'.

Junior is a pain. I know that sounds harsh to say about a three-year-old, but he is. He's kind of a bully, and G usually gets the brunt of that, while Junior's mom is oblivious til G gets fed up and retaliates, sending Junior running to his mom.. and all of a sudden then she notices the boys are fighting.

Naturally, they're 'just being boys', oh how cute.

Cute, my arse.

I have severely limited the amount of time the boys play together. G is not allowed to play with Junior any more unless I'm around to head off problems. I refuse to encourage him to fight (although B's suggestion is that if G just thwaps the hell out of Junior a time or two, maybe he'll quit getting picked on), and I refuse to parent someone else's child - i.e., I'm not going to step in until it's MY child being aggressive, save for removing G from the situation... so my best solution so far has been to closely monitor their time together and end the play date when G starts getting upset or aggressive.

Problem is, G has come away from this with a sense that being kept from his friend is punishment. This morning, he asked to play with Junior, and I told him that today wasn't a good day... naturally, I got the pathetic-boy look, a couple tears and a promise that he'd be good.

How on earth do I communicate that HE is not the main problem? I'm not a totally oblivious parent, I know that G is not entirely innocent, but he's reactive, not instigative.* He also doesn't fight with any other child he interacts with, which leads me to believe that I have a fairly normal kid on the aggression scale.

I have searched for other little boys his age in the area, thinking that if we could replace the problem friend, life would be easier.

I have not found any.

I know that when pre-k starts next year, G will have more child interaction, but for now, he gets his speech class (which consists of G and one younger child who is nearly nonverbal, and apparently completely uninteresting to my son), and his heavily supervised play dates with Junior.

.. that's the only reason I have not completely ceased contact with Junior.

For the life of me, I can't understand why G would WANT this friendship, but he does.

.. and for the life of him, he can't understand why I am turning down potential play dates, when in actuality, it's because I can't stand the thought of dealing with Junior... particularly when I know that whatever happens, G will end up being the one disciplined, and Junior will get a pat on the head and a 'boys will be boys' speech.

Suggestions?




*G has been known to taunt Junior... like, Junior will get mad and throw a toy at G. If he does not connect, G will triumphantly crow "HA! You missed!" .. and then come running to me when Junior decides that it's easier and more painful to punch G. So yeah, he's not innocent.