Yeah, so getting away for a few hours was a really good idea. Family still gets under my skin, but it's much easier to handle when I've given myself a little breathing room.
We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, so all of the presents are open (I'm currently posting from a fabulously tiny netbook that was the major gift for H and I this year). Today is reserved for food and family. My mother is already in the kitchen working and has been since yesterday, basically breaking only to go to church, eat Christmas Eve dinner and to open gifts afterward. We do holidays around a heavily laden table in this family.
Last night, however, found me in tears, though this time, not due to emotional duress as usual, but this time, from a crippling headache that came on really suddenly. I am prone to migranes, and I have had some cluster headache-ish things that were hitting me really hard last spring, but this was out of nowhere, totally sudden, and hurt like hell. Tylenol didn't even begin to touch it. I stayed home from church, unable to handle the noise and lights. I finally called the on-call nurse at the clinic, who suggested that (duh) I eat something, since I only ate half my lunch, and had snacked on a christmas cookie or two, but otherwise hadn't eaten much for several hours. And suggested that I soak in a tub (check) and use a hot pad on my neck (check), and drink a few glasses of water (check). Because it set on so suddenly, she really thought it might be just a really bad tension headache. I usually have several hours of warning when I get a true migrane, beginning with visual disturbances and mild aphasia before the vice-grip pan sets in, so I think she was probably right.
By the time my family was home from church an hour and a half later, I was feeling much better. Truthfully, I felt better the second that there was some peace in the house (and much, MUCH better after I put some food in my stomach). And since the nurse also suggested that it might be allergy/sinus stuff (as I am allergic to everything in Austin, including a mild allergy to dogs and cats, of which both types of creatures inhabit my parents' house), so I also took a benadryl, which helped as well. I know I'm eating enough, and while my eyes are itchy, it's manageable, but with everything happening all at once and the chaos of the holidays and not eating frequently enough and not taking enough time to just chill by myself (tried to watch a movie, but mom doesn't pay attention and so asks questions through the whole thing when she doesn't catch something-- really relaxing, let me tell you... though Up was a very good movie in spite of the interruptions), my body clearly just shut itself down, decided it needed a reboot.
My head still hurts a little today, but I think I'm going to beg my mother to schedule me a massage on Saturday, as I am clearly in need of some forced physical relaxation (and an hour of virtual solitude and quiet). I think I hadn't really realized it until recently, but H and I lead very quiet lives. We have a few local friends, but most of our communicating with people happens in short fits and starts with phone conversations or emails. There's just not much noise in our house.
Of course, the quiet and the solitude will change soon enough. I find myself oddly divided between reactions upon encountering screaming children in public as is wont to happen during the holiday sugar-and-WANTWANTWANT-filled season. Half the time, I feel badly for the parents, knowing that sometimes, there's just nothing you can do, but the other half of the time, I want to beg them to take the screaming child outside, because DAMMIT, I have roughly five months before my life becomes a complete absurdist cicrus of kid noise-- I really don't want to sit next to your whiny four-year-old who is clearly SO TIRED and wants to go home (by the way, what the eff are you doing taking your end-of-their-rope tired kids out to dinner at a nice restaurant at 9:00 p.m.? Seriously. It's our anniversary. We'd like to hear each other speak from across our tiny table...), while you pedantically repeat, "take a bite, Macy. Take one bite, Macy. It's not hot, Macy. Take a bite, Macy. Just one bite, Macy," while Macy sobs and whines and whines and WHINES AND WHINES AND WHINES.
Er, yeah. Sometimes I just want to pull people aside and say, "remember those months before your child arrived, how you and your partner felt about your lives, how you cherished those last moments as just the two of you? Imagine those moments now being disrupted by YOUR SCREAMING CHILD." or alterately, "We're expecting twins, and we have just a few more months of quiet before it becomes nonstop kid noise. Could you take your kid outside or at least stop ignoring him while you chat with your girlfriends over Cosmopolitans?"
I guess that just goes back to the whole 'why the fuck can any Joe Asshole have a baby, but we have to go to the ends of the earth to become parents???' Yeah, I don't have an answer for that one either.
Regardless, despite all of the ups and downs, it's been a good visit so far, and a pretty good Christmas, too. I also got a tiny video camera (kinda like a Flip, but Sony brand), and a bunch of books, and a great sweater. Oddly, someone bought the Snuggie off my Amazon list (hell yeah, I want a Snuggie! Behold, the coldest pregnant woman to ever have lived!), but I didn't get it. My dad got one, and I think my mom may have ordered it for me and forgotten and decided that she must've ordered it for my dad... Anyhow, lots of great loot, and everyone liked the presents they got from us, so it was a good evening all around.
What about you? Get any cool stuff? Kill any family members yet? What will be on your holiday table?
Friday, December 25, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Holiday Post, the first
What is awesome about the holidays:
-having time to come to Austin (aka civilization) and visit friends and family which allows for:
-mainlining Chuy's Deluxe Tomatillo sauce
-Barbeque. Oh, the barbeque. None of that pulled pork Carolina crap-- real beef brisket and Elgin sausage. Mmm.
-Potato salad, with extra pickle on the side, which comes with the barbeque, of course (the babies are BIG fans of potato salad).
-sitting at Epoch coffee shop for hours and hours doing absolutely nothing, which allows for:
-running in to all the random friends who I don't keep in touch with online, who I only see at the coffee shop, who I miss so terribly.
What is not awesome about the holidays:
-spending too much time with family, especially when one has a mother who:
-for the 4th year in a row has remarked about how much more she bought this christmas as gifts for Brother J and his new wife than she did for you and your husband. Fourth. Year. In. A. Row.
-remarks on the fact that the last entry she made in your baby book is to paste a copy of the arrest warrant that was issued for you because of an expired-tag-plus-no-insurance ticket that you couldn't afford to pay (which she would not lend you the money to pay for, until said warrant was issued and was several years old, which you only got in the first place because you let your auto insurance lapse because you couldn't afford it plus groceries one month and again, she wouldn't lend you the money to tide you over...), while subsequently remarking about the (fucking) attorney she hired (and paid a few thousand for) to battle a ticket that Brother J got for going 105 mph in a 45 mph zone in a tiny west Texas town, not so that he would escape jail time, but so that he wouldn't have to pay the enormous fine for going that fast over the speed limit.
-says she'll do nice things for you, but then bails at the last minute (like asking me repeatedly if I need a massage, after telling me for three months that we should get massages when I come to town, and telling me that she'll make an appointment for both of us, only to decide to schedule herself for an appointment for a time when, per her exact words, "I knew y'all would have other plans", as we are scheduled to go to dinner this evening together for our wedding anniversary)
-makes massive projects out of everything and then acts put out and complains if she asks what you want and it isn't convenient for her, like deciding to schedule a massage during the one time when we need to use her car, and so decides to rent a car because she strongly encouraged Brother J to take their other vehicle so that he could take the rest of the good furniture that they were getting rid of, which was supposed to have been brought to H and I a year ago in NC (but instead they filled the truck up with a bunch of total shit from dad's garage and didn't have room for the furniture they were supposed to bring to us), which left us here with my brother's borderline non-operational car (whose alignment is out of whack and tires are jacked up so that won't stay in it's lane, that Brother J knew about when he left the car with us, but was too effin' cheap to fix before taking the one other operational vehicle to move stuff back to College Station, where he is "employed" as a PhD student with two generous fellowships that pay more than H's job does and so can definitely afford new tires), a car which my mother won't drive, and a car which I (and my dad) don't feel is safe to drive, and so instead of rescheduling the massage, she rents a car and calls it our "anniversary present", even though I have to pay for it on my credit card and she will pay us back (which, I will believe when I see...). But contrarily, when asking what you want to eat, if it isn't something that she is interested in, acts as though you are the WORLD'S BIGGEST ASSHOLE for stating a preference that isn't automatically what she wants. Like when I say I want barbeque and say that there's a place I used to like that's on the way home, that we can pick up stuff and take it home and she can eat that or we can stop for something else or she can eat at home (which is what she wanted to do), but instead decides that she doesn't like that place (eventually dramatically revealing that she "got sick" after eating there once) and pushing to go (not to one of ten other acceptable places on the way home, but rather) to one particular place that is near one of the major shopping areas, thus inciting an hour of complaint about how traffic sucks and how she just wanted to eat a sandwich at home even though we only went to that place because she didn't want us to eat at a place where she didn't want to eat, even though she would have been able to eat at home anyhow.
You know. Because "projects" are okay when she's at the helm (like hassling with a fucking rent car), but not okay if they are driven by someone else's wants (like wanting barbeque being turned into a project that she ends up pissed about because even though it became a project because of HER, it wasn't her idea in the first place and is therefore a pain in her ass).
-living at a house with your crazy fucking family for three weeks, especially when said house is a constant wreck because no one cleans up after themselves, which is ironic considering how much shit I got as a kid because my room was always messy, how many tears were shed because my mom would berate me for not being tidy when the entire house was basically one enormous pile of mess... which caused me to lose my shit last night when I went to put away one thing and ended up cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom, straightening the living room and sitting room, and then following my mother around the game room as she wrapped presents, picking up and putting away and organizing all the gift wrap shit, throwing away all the scraps of paper and ribbon, over and over and over again, laughing to myself as she repeatedly bitched about losing the scissors or the pen or whatnot (because she kept burying them under rolls of paper or sheets of gift tags...).
So yes. So far this holiday it's felt like a merry fucking christmas. Luckily, I will go this afternoon and rent a car (even if I end up paying for it, it's worth it, I guess), and get out of the insanity and sit at my favorite coffee shop and knit another baby hat (oh, how fun to knit tiny things!) or read a magazine or just chill and talk with friends, and then go out to a nice dinner with my beloved husband of four years.
And you? How are your holidays progressing?
-having time to come to Austin (aka civilization) and visit friends and family which allows for:
-mainlining Chuy's Deluxe Tomatillo sauce
-Barbeque. Oh, the barbeque. None of that pulled pork Carolina crap-- real beef brisket and Elgin sausage. Mmm.
-Potato salad, with extra pickle on the side, which comes with the barbeque, of course (the babies are BIG fans of potato salad).
-sitting at Epoch coffee shop for hours and hours doing absolutely nothing, which allows for:
-running in to all the random friends who I don't keep in touch with online, who I only see at the coffee shop, who I miss so terribly.
What is not awesome about the holidays:
-spending too much time with family, especially when one has a mother who:
-for the 4th year in a row has remarked about how much more she bought this christmas as gifts for Brother J and his new wife than she did for you and your husband. Fourth. Year. In. A. Row.
-remarks on the fact that the last entry she made in your baby book is to paste a copy of the arrest warrant that was issued for you because of an expired-tag-plus-no-insurance ticket that you couldn't afford to pay (which she would not lend you the money to pay for, until said warrant was issued and was several years old, which you only got in the first place because you let your auto insurance lapse because you couldn't afford it plus groceries one month and again, she wouldn't lend you the money to tide you over...), while subsequently remarking about the (fucking) attorney she hired (and paid a few thousand for) to battle a ticket that Brother J got for going 105 mph in a 45 mph zone in a tiny west Texas town, not so that he would escape jail time, but so that he wouldn't have to pay the enormous fine for going that fast over the speed limit.
-says she'll do nice things for you, but then bails at the last minute (like asking me repeatedly if I need a massage, after telling me for three months that we should get massages when I come to town, and telling me that she'll make an appointment for both of us, only to decide to schedule herself for an appointment for a time when, per her exact words, "I knew y'all would have other plans", as we are scheduled to go to dinner this evening together for our wedding anniversary)
-makes massive projects out of everything and then acts put out and complains if she asks what you want and it isn't convenient for her, like deciding to schedule a massage during the one time when we need to use her car, and so decides to rent a car because she strongly encouraged Brother J to take their other vehicle so that he could take the rest of the good furniture that they were getting rid of, which was supposed to have been brought to H and I a year ago in NC (but instead they filled the truck up with a bunch of total shit from dad's garage and didn't have room for the furniture they were supposed to bring to us), which left us here with my brother's borderline non-operational car (whose alignment is out of whack and tires are jacked up so that won't stay in it's lane, that Brother J knew about when he left the car with us, but was too effin' cheap to fix before taking the one other operational vehicle to move stuff back to College Station, where he is "employed" as a PhD student with two generous fellowships that pay more than H's job does and so can definitely afford new tires), a car which my mother won't drive, and a car which I (and my dad) don't feel is safe to drive, and so instead of rescheduling the massage, she rents a car and calls it our "anniversary present", even though I have to pay for it on my credit card and she will pay us back (which, I will believe when I see...). But contrarily, when asking what you want to eat, if it isn't something that she is interested in, acts as though you are the WORLD'S BIGGEST ASSHOLE for stating a preference that isn't automatically what she wants. Like when I say I want barbeque and say that there's a place I used to like that's on the way home, that we can pick up stuff and take it home and she can eat that or we can stop for something else or she can eat at home (which is what she wanted to do), but instead decides that she doesn't like that place (eventually dramatically revealing that she "got sick" after eating there once) and pushing to go (not to one of ten other acceptable places on the way home, but rather) to one particular place that is near one of the major shopping areas, thus inciting an hour of complaint about how traffic sucks and how she just wanted to eat a sandwich at home even though we only went to that place because she didn't want us to eat at a place where she didn't want to eat, even though she would have been able to eat at home anyhow.
You know. Because "projects" are okay when she's at the helm (like hassling with a fucking rent car), but not okay if they are driven by someone else's wants (like wanting barbeque being turned into a project that she ends up pissed about because even though it became a project because of HER, it wasn't her idea in the first place and is therefore a pain in her ass).
-living at a house with your crazy fucking family for three weeks, especially when said house is a constant wreck because no one cleans up after themselves, which is ironic considering how much shit I got as a kid because my room was always messy, how many tears were shed because my mom would berate me for not being tidy when the entire house was basically one enormous pile of mess... which caused me to lose my shit last night when I went to put away one thing and ended up cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom, straightening the living room and sitting room, and then following my mother around the game room as she wrapped presents, picking up and putting away and organizing all the gift wrap shit, throwing away all the scraps of paper and ribbon, over and over and over again, laughing to myself as she repeatedly bitched about losing the scissors or the pen or whatnot (because she kept burying them under rolls of paper or sheets of gift tags...).
So yes. So far this holiday it's felt like a merry fucking christmas. Luckily, I will go this afternoon and rent a car (even if I end up paying for it, it's worth it, I guess), and get out of the insanity and sit at my favorite coffee shop and knit another baby hat (oh, how fun to knit tiny things!) or read a magazine or just chill and talk with friends, and then go out to a nice dinner with my beloved husband of four years.
And you? How are your holidays progressing?
Thursday, December 17, 2009
First Nursery Photos
Just a quickie before I leave...
Here are some pictures of some of the nursery decor. Pardon in advance the exposure issues and the horrible mess, etc. I'm really glad I started now, because there's a million-bajillion things to undo in this room before it will be ready for babies.
The half-office/half-nursery look... the height of modern clutter-chic design. But you can see the rug and crib here. I don't think this will be the permanent location for either but that's where they fit for now.
These are the curtains on our large window (pardon the color/exposure issues... I was in a hurry!). I just love this pattern! Elephants racing in teacups, kittens in wheeled houses, a frog in a bathtub? Ugh! Adorable!!!
And this is the side curtain that coordinates with the patterns on the other curtain. So sweet!
And so, I'll (of course) post more pictures when this room is closer to done, but for now, here's a sneak peek before I head off to civilization for the holidays.
Here are some pictures of some of the nursery decor. Pardon in advance the exposure issues and the horrible mess, etc. I'm really glad I started now, because there's a million-bajillion things to undo in this room before it will be ready for babies.
The half-office/half-nursery look... the height of modern clutter-chic design. But you can see the rug and crib here. I don't think this will be the permanent location for either but that's where they fit for now.
These are the curtains on our large window (pardon the color/exposure issues... I was in a hurry!). I just love this pattern! Elephants racing in teacups, kittens in wheeled houses, a frog in a bathtub? Ugh! Adorable!!!
And this is the side curtain that coordinates with the patterns on the other curtain. So sweet!
And so, I'll (of course) post more pictures when this room is closer to done, but for now, here's a sneak peek before I head off to civilization for the holidays.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Twelve
Ah. Today marks 12 weeks. TWELVE FRICKIN' WEEKS.
Can you believe it? I hardly can.
So today, depending on who you listen to, I depart my first trimester and enter the gloriously honeymoonish second trimester. I don't know how much stock I put in that whole "second trimester is AWESOME" thing. Frankly, the first trimester hasn't been that bad for me. I have certainly had symptoms of pregnancy, but nothing like the horror that some other people seem to have experienced-- I'm not barfing day and night, I'm not enduring wave after wave of nausea, I'm not feeling like I've been taken over by an alien, etc. I think it's just a matter of chance or possibly a person's bodily inclinations, but pregnancy seems to suit me so far. I'm not sick or terribly uncomfortable (yet), and aside from severe exhaustion (which is not too different from my pre-pregnancy state), I'm really enjoying this gestating thing. I looked with glee in my bathroom cabinet the other day, knowing (well, knowing as much as an infertile can ever know) that I won't have to use those effin' tampons for close to a year. I don't think I can emphasize enough how much I hated getting my period, and not just because it meant I wasn't pregnant yet again. Messy, uncomfortable, exhausting, not to mention the awesome bloating and cramping. I think my body really, REALLY didn't like the whole menstruating thing, 'cos it seems to be enjoying the break.
And so, the real reason you stopped by...
I promise I have not been purposefully holding out on you-- I just didn't get prints of any of my last ultrasounds. But today was my Nuchal Fold Translucency scan thingy, and finally, I have some pictures:
Flicker (aka B) with little shadows of fingers in the top center of the frame.
Sparkle (aka A) with an oh-so-H.ish pout*. What in the world am I going to do with TWO pouters living in my house???
A rare shot of both babies in the frame at the same time. They're laying head to head here-- Sparkle is laying across the screen and Twinkle is laying perpendicular to the screen.
Initial reports show that their nuchal folds measure well below even the borderline lowest limits. I have to do two blood draws, one now, and one 4 weeks from now. I'm just really not all that worried about it for some reason. It's like for me, the biggest obstacle has been getting pregnant, and while I'm worried about staying pregnant, I'm not all that concerned about chromosomal or developmental abnormalities. If I didn't have anything else to worry about, if I hadn't used IVF to get pregnant, etc., I might have enough worry-energy to allocate some to that issue, but as of now, I'm keeping it on the back burner.
I have another appointment this afternoon solely for a heartbeat check, which is kind of pointless given that I just had a lengthy look at the babies and their beating hearts this morning. But since I have some questions (1. What can I take for insomnia? I can fall asleep just fine, but I keep waking up in the middle of the night and sometimes, I just cannot fall back asleep. 2. What can I do about the itchy nipples? It's driving me crazy, and nothing seems to alleviate the incessant itch!), I figure it won't be a total waste of time, and hey-- it's a totally gratuitous look at the babies, so that's cool, right? Maybe I'll even finally have a sonogram where I don't start panicking the second I sit on the table, waiting those interminable minutes before they confirm both babies' beating hearts...
Anyhow, I leave for Texas tomorrow, and will be gone for three weeks. I imagine posting will be sparse (though who knows? Sometimes I think I'll have no time at all and I end up blogging a ton.), but I will try to continue to keep up with all my bloggy friends. I will also attempt to take some pictures of the nursery and post them before I leave tomorrow (I hung curtains, laid the rug, put together the dressers and have been moving stuff around, though I'm nowhere near done), but that will largely depend on how much packing I get done this evening. Home! Gah, I'm so excited, I can't WAIT!
And you? Any great plans for the holidays?
*for those that don't know, my husband is a champion pouter. I have never known anyone who can jut out their lower lip like that and have the perfect little lip tremble, before one giant fat tear rolls down their cheek. Seriously. Dangerous.
Can you believe it? I hardly can.
So today, depending on who you listen to, I depart my first trimester and enter the gloriously honeymoonish second trimester. I don't know how much stock I put in that whole "second trimester is AWESOME" thing. Frankly, the first trimester hasn't been that bad for me. I have certainly had symptoms of pregnancy, but nothing like the horror that some other people seem to have experienced-- I'm not barfing day and night, I'm not enduring wave after wave of nausea, I'm not feeling like I've been taken over by an alien, etc. I think it's just a matter of chance or possibly a person's bodily inclinations, but pregnancy seems to suit me so far. I'm not sick or terribly uncomfortable (yet), and aside from severe exhaustion (which is not too different from my pre-pregnancy state), I'm really enjoying this gestating thing. I looked with glee in my bathroom cabinet the other day, knowing (well, knowing as much as an infertile can ever know) that I won't have to use those effin' tampons for close to a year. I don't think I can emphasize enough how much I hated getting my period, and not just because it meant I wasn't pregnant yet again. Messy, uncomfortable, exhausting, not to mention the awesome bloating and cramping. I think my body really, REALLY didn't like the whole menstruating thing, 'cos it seems to be enjoying the break.
And so, the real reason you stopped by...
I promise I have not been purposefully holding out on you-- I just didn't get prints of any of my last ultrasounds. But today was my Nuchal Fold Translucency scan thingy, and finally, I have some pictures:
Flicker (aka B) with little shadows of fingers in the top center of the frame.
Sparkle (aka A) with an oh-so-H.ish pout*. What in the world am I going to do with TWO pouters living in my house???
A rare shot of both babies in the frame at the same time. They're laying head to head here-- Sparkle is laying across the screen and Twinkle is laying perpendicular to the screen.
Initial reports show that their nuchal folds measure well below even the borderline lowest limits. I have to do two blood draws, one now, and one 4 weeks from now. I'm just really not all that worried about it for some reason. It's like for me, the biggest obstacle has been getting pregnant, and while I'm worried about staying pregnant, I'm not all that concerned about chromosomal or developmental abnormalities. If I didn't have anything else to worry about, if I hadn't used IVF to get pregnant, etc., I might have enough worry-energy to allocate some to that issue, but as of now, I'm keeping it on the back burner.
I have another appointment this afternoon solely for a heartbeat check, which is kind of pointless given that I just had a lengthy look at the babies and their beating hearts this morning. But since I have some questions (1. What can I take for insomnia? I can fall asleep just fine, but I keep waking up in the middle of the night and sometimes, I just cannot fall back asleep. 2. What can I do about the itchy nipples? It's driving me crazy, and nothing seems to alleviate the incessant itch!), I figure it won't be a total waste of time, and hey-- it's a totally gratuitous look at the babies, so that's cool, right? Maybe I'll even finally have a sonogram where I don't start panicking the second I sit on the table, waiting those interminable minutes before they confirm both babies' beating hearts...
Anyhow, I leave for Texas tomorrow, and will be gone for three weeks. I imagine posting will be sparse (though who knows? Sometimes I think I'll have no time at all and I end up blogging a ton.), but I will try to continue to keep up with all my bloggy friends. I will also attempt to take some pictures of the nursery and post them before I leave tomorrow (I hung curtains, laid the rug, put together the dressers and have been moving stuff around, though I'm nowhere near done), but that will largely depend on how much packing I get done this evening. Home! Gah, I'm so excited, I can't WAIT!
And you? Any great plans for the holidays?
*for those that don't know, my husband is a champion pouter. I have never known anyone who can jut out their lower lip like that and have the perfect little lip tremble, before one giant fat tear rolls down their cheek. Seriously. Dangerous.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Whoops!
Alternately titled: How I Accidentally Spent $600 On Babies That Don't Even Fully Exist Yet
So yesterday found H and I sitting at home, wondering what we were going to do that day. A rare occasion, I assure you, we had absolutely nothing on our agenda. I remarked that if we were going to get much of the work done before the babies got here, it would need to happen as soon as we were back from Austin for the holidays, as I would quickly become too large to do most of the work myself. And so I also remarked that Ikea had a few things I wanted to look at, things that I felt it was important to see in person, things I just wanted to check out, put my hands on, investigate, etc. (no need to buy today, I said) and so we decided to take a little field trip to Charlotte to visit Mecca (aka Ikea...).
And well? Do I even need to go any further?
Here is what we ended up purchasing:
Two cribs with two crib mattresses (the Gulliver crib in white)
Two waist height dressers, to be used as storage/changing table (Malm chest in white)
--still need to get the pad thingy (and might build a top piece with small rail to make a deeper space for changing, but haven't yet decided how ambitious I want to be), but we purposely chose two separate dressers rather than one large one, so that later they can be split for each child to have their own storage space
Desk/Table for computer (like this: Vika Build-Your-Own table)
--we decided that the main desktop computer needs to me moved to a more central location, since our office is going to become the nursery, and our current desks, while functional and appropriate for the current space, are not only too big, but are not so nice looking, we decided to buy a slightly nicer looking table and put the computer in our living room.
Curtains and Two Rugs (Fabler series: This rug in blue, and these curtains... er, I can't find a picture of the curtains, but it's this series: Fabler Resa, and if you click here, then scroll the slider all the way to the right, you'll see the series put together...)
--we also got a roll of fabric that goes with that series to make a curtain for a smaller window, and some light-dimming curtains to go behind these, since the sun really pours through those windows first thing in the morning.
So. We still need a few things for the nursery, but come January when we return from Austin, I'll have the "bones" I need to put the nursery together. I'm debating right now as to whether I want to put a wide, cushiony rocker in there for nursing/comforting, etc., or whether I'd rather have a small loveseat (perhaps a sleeper sofa, in the event I find it easier to room in with the babies in the early weeks rather than having them room in with me). It seems that if I'm going to give tandem nursing a try (hey, a girl can always try...), it would make more sense to have a wider area to sit in such as a loveseat, just for coordinating movement of two babies. But for comforting/soothing, it might be better to have a rocker. I don't know. Thoughts?
I am just so very enchanted with the textiles I found at Ikea. I should have known they would offer textiles that are appropriately baby-ish without being either garish or the standard pale spectrum: blue, pink, green, yellow. I think they are charming and whimsical without being too cartoonish, which I like. And I'm sorry, but isn't this just the cutest dang thing ever? I love the little animals leaning over the side of the balloon basket looking down. And style-wise, it even matches the little springy-animals we bought in Germany this summer...
All of this is very exciting, and I am very pleased with our purchases. But yet, I found myself wide awake at 1:30 a.m., trying to figure out how it was all going to get done, and what on Earth I was thinking, buying all this stuff when the babies aren't even 12 weeks into existence yet. They aren't even babies. They're almost-fetuses, technically still embryos to be precise. It feels so arrogant to expect that I will not only bring home one baby, but two.
Timing-wise, I could have waited to buy stuff after we were back from the holidays, but I know how those things go at that time of year. We get home, we get settled and then 30 seconds later (it feels like) H is back to teaching and I'm on my own at home again. Who knows when the shopping would have gotten done? And while I know that I could have been practical and only bought one crib for now, not spent quite so much, I would have felt really weird later on (if things keep going as they are) when I had to remember that I didn't have enough trust in my body to make sure both babies made it here safely. It just feels weird, like I can't win for trying. I have this incredible thing that I've waited so long for, times two, and it feels like I'm just doing a really good job of faking it, like any second, reality is going to crash in, and I'll feel so foolish for believing that I was actually going to be a mom.
And here you thought this was just going to be a happy-positive post about cute crap for the nursery...
But anyhow, what's done is done, and I'm happy that it is done. Looking around our house, I don't think I realized until a few weeks ago exactly how much stuff has to be done to make this house baby-friendly. I need to rewire two outlets to be grounded outlets and place a third outlet in the to-be playroom (current dining room). I think I'll let a pro do those, though it will certainly cost more and I could at the least replace the two outlets myself, but I don't want to worry that the appliances plugged in to those outlets might fail or that there might be some sort of electrical hazard.
That would be step one before I can move our refrigerator, which will then create room for the dining table in the actual kitchen. I'll need to then measure for a cabinet to go next to the refrigerator to house the items currently around the space where the fridge will go. Once the dining table is out of the dining room, I can move craft items from the current dish/craft closet upstairs to make room for items currently in the china cabinet, so that wandering hands won't find themselves dabbling in molecular rearrangement of great-grandmother's wedding china. And the dining room can then become the play room.
And then, I can start to tackle the living room... Precarious DVD storage towers don't work once babies start to pull themselves up. And coffee table corners look so much sharper when you think about delicate heads (giant, top-heavy, cartoon-character-proportioned heads --and yes, cartoon characters *are* cute for a reason, Rachel!) bouncing against them. Once the main computer is out of the office, we have to find a place for the rest of the miscellaneous items that fill the shelves and storage bins around our office (the garbage is starting to look like a good place for most of it). And the dressing table and items that currently also live in the office will also have to be moved, um, somewhere.
At which point, finally and at last, I will be able to begin to set up the nursery.
A toilet to be fixed, a shower to be installed, another to be tiled, further baby-proofing and gating and other stuff... the list never ends.
So you can see why there was plenty to chew on at 1:30 a.m., and why, despite my best efforts, I didn't fall back asleep until after 5 a.m. I will be asking my doctor if there is anything I can take for insomnia, because as illogical as it is, along with the vast fatigue that marks early twin pregnancies, there are also ample opportunities to get up in the middle of the night, and a plethora of things to think about to keep you awake once you have taken one of your many pre-dawn pees. It seems so unfair to be more tired than I think I've ever been, to be able to fall asleep with shocking precision (4:00 p.m. nap, 9:00 p.m. bedtime), but be unable to stay asleep. Some nights I sleep straight through, some nights I wake for 30 minutes or so before falling back asleep, but last night was particularly bad for me. Sigh.
I know. Those of you still in the trenches are screaming, "Cry me a frickin' river, lady!", and those of you that already have kiddos are screaming at me to just relax, that there's plenty of time still, etc. But it's hard to keep things in perspective, you know? It's hard to tell that sleep-deprived-yet-high-sleep-need brain to shut the hell up. Sometimes it feels like everything is times two.
So I think that's quite enough for one day. If you've become a parent, at what point did you begin to shop for your nursery? How much research did you do or how did you decide? Does it ever start to feel real, like it's okay to be seen in the baby section, like you're not a giant faker?
So yesterday found H and I sitting at home, wondering what we were going to do that day. A rare occasion, I assure you, we had absolutely nothing on our agenda. I remarked that if we were going to get much of the work done before the babies got here, it would need to happen as soon as we were back from Austin for the holidays, as I would quickly become too large to do most of the work myself. And so I also remarked that Ikea had a few things I wanted to look at, things that I felt it was important to see in person, things I just wanted to check out, put my hands on, investigate, etc. (no need to buy today, I said) and so we decided to take a little field trip to Charlotte to visit Mecca (aka Ikea...).
And well? Do I even need to go any further?
Here is what we ended up purchasing:
Two cribs with two crib mattresses (the Gulliver crib in white)
Two waist height dressers, to be used as storage/changing table (Malm chest in white)
--still need to get the pad thingy (and might build a top piece with small rail to make a deeper space for changing, but haven't yet decided how ambitious I want to be), but we purposely chose two separate dressers rather than one large one, so that later they can be split for each child to have their own storage space
Desk/Table for computer (like this: Vika Build-Your-Own table)
--we decided that the main desktop computer needs to me moved to a more central location, since our office is going to become the nursery, and our current desks, while functional and appropriate for the current space, are not only too big, but are not so nice looking, we decided to buy a slightly nicer looking table and put the computer in our living room.
Curtains and Two Rugs (Fabler series: This rug in blue, and these curtains... er, I can't find a picture of the curtains, but it's this series: Fabler Resa, and if you click here, then scroll the slider all the way to the right, you'll see the series put together...)
--we also got a roll of fabric that goes with that series to make a curtain for a smaller window, and some light-dimming curtains to go behind these, since the sun really pours through those windows first thing in the morning.
So. We still need a few things for the nursery, but come January when we return from Austin, I'll have the "bones" I need to put the nursery together. I'm debating right now as to whether I want to put a wide, cushiony rocker in there for nursing/comforting, etc., or whether I'd rather have a small loveseat (perhaps a sleeper sofa, in the event I find it easier to room in with the babies in the early weeks rather than having them room in with me). It seems that if I'm going to give tandem nursing a try (hey, a girl can always try...), it would make more sense to have a wider area to sit in such as a loveseat, just for coordinating movement of two babies. But for comforting/soothing, it might be better to have a rocker. I don't know. Thoughts?
I am just so very enchanted with the textiles I found at Ikea. I should have known they would offer textiles that are appropriately baby-ish without being either garish or the standard pale spectrum: blue, pink, green, yellow. I think they are charming and whimsical without being too cartoonish, which I like. And I'm sorry, but isn't this just the cutest dang thing ever? I love the little animals leaning over the side of the balloon basket looking down. And style-wise, it even matches the little springy-animals we bought in Germany this summer...
All of this is very exciting, and I am very pleased with our purchases. But yet, I found myself wide awake at 1:30 a.m., trying to figure out how it was all going to get done, and what on Earth I was thinking, buying all this stuff when the babies aren't even 12 weeks into existence yet. They aren't even babies. They're almost-fetuses, technically still embryos to be precise. It feels so arrogant to expect that I will not only bring home one baby, but two.
Timing-wise, I could have waited to buy stuff after we were back from the holidays, but I know how those things go at that time of year. We get home, we get settled and then 30 seconds later (it feels like) H is back to teaching and I'm on my own at home again. Who knows when the shopping would have gotten done? And while I know that I could have been practical and only bought one crib for now, not spent quite so much, I would have felt really weird later on (if things keep going as they are) when I had to remember that I didn't have enough trust in my body to make sure both babies made it here safely. It just feels weird, like I can't win for trying. I have this incredible thing that I've waited so long for, times two, and it feels like I'm just doing a really good job of faking it, like any second, reality is going to crash in, and I'll feel so foolish for believing that I was actually going to be a mom.
And here you thought this was just going to be a happy-positive post about cute crap for the nursery...
But anyhow, what's done is done, and I'm happy that it is done. Looking around our house, I don't think I realized until a few weeks ago exactly how much stuff has to be done to make this house baby-friendly. I need to rewire two outlets to be grounded outlets and place a third outlet in the to-be playroom (current dining room). I think I'll let a pro do those, though it will certainly cost more and I could at the least replace the two outlets myself, but I don't want to worry that the appliances plugged in to those outlets might fail or that there might be some sort of electrical hazard.
That would be step one before I can move our refrigerator, which will then create room for the dining table in the actual kitchen. I'll need to then measure for a cabinet to go next to the refrigerator to house the items currently around the space where the fridge will go. Once the dining table is out of the dining room, I can move craft items from the current dish/craft closet upstairs to make room for items currently in the china cabinet, so that wandering hands won't find themselves dabbling in molecular rearrangement of great-grandmother's wedding china. And the dining room can then become the play room.
And then, I can start to tackle the living room... Precarious DVD storage towers don't work once babies start to pull themselves up. And coffee table corners look so much sharper when you think about delicate heads (giant, top-heavy, cartoon-character-proportioned heads --and yes, cartoon characters *are* cute for a reason, Rachel!) bouncing against them. Once the main computer is out of the office, we have to find a place for the rest of the miscellaneous items that fill the shelves and storage bins around our office (the garbage is starting to look like a good place for most of it). And the dressing table and items that currently also live in the office will also have to be moved, um, somewhere.
At which point, finally and at last, I will be able to begin to set up the nursery.
A toilet to be fixed, a shower to be installed, another to be tiled, further baby-proofing and gating and other stuff... the list never ends.
So you can see why there was plenty to chew on at 1:30 a.m., and why, despite my best efforts, I didn't fall back asleep until after 5 a.m. I will be asking my doctor if there is anything I can take for insomnia, because as illogical as it is, along with the vast fatigue that marks early twin pregnancies, there are also ample opportunities to get up in the middle of the night, and a plethora of things to think about to keep you awake once you have taken one of your many pre-dawn pees. It seems so unfair to be more tired than I think I've ever been, to be able to fall asleep with shocking precision (4:00 p.m. nap, 9:00 p.m. bedtime), but be unable to stay asleep. Some nights I sleep straight through, some nights I wake for 30 minutes or so before falling back asleep, but last night was particularly bad for me. Sigh.
I know. Those of you still in the trenches are screaming, "Cry me a frickin' river, lady!", and those of you that already have kiddos are screaming at me to just relax, that there's plenty of time still, etc. But it's hard to keep things in perspective, you know? It's hard to tell that sleep-deprived-yet-high-sleep-need brain to shut the hell up. Sometimes it feels like everything is times two.
So I think that's quite enough for one day. If you've become a parent, at what point did you begin to shop for your nursery? How much research did you do or how did you decide? Does it ever start to feel real, like it's okay to be seen in the baby section, like you're not a giant faker?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Going All List-Like On You
1. I got my seasonal flu shot on Tuesday and since then, I can't stop sneezing and I've been doubly tired (which is saying something as the usual level of tired is pretty high). Psychosomatic, or real reaction from the shot? Either way, I'm kind of sick of it. I didn't react this way to the H1N1 vaccine, but I did get the seasonal flu shot only 13 days post-H1N1 rather than the recommended full two weeks. It must be my fault. Alternately, I picked up a cold when I went to the doctor's office to get the shot. Seriously-- when will doctors institute a well vs. sick waiting room already? Grr. (Though as it turns out, H just called after his dental appointment as he was having some pain in the sockets where his wisdom teeth were removed, and reported that he has a sinus infection. So maybe- oh, joy- I'll get to know what it's like to be pregnant with infected sinuses, too. Great.)
2. Oh, the babies. Y'all? My babies are beautiful. They really, really are. H went with me to an ultrasound appointment today that was at the local hospital (because it was supposed to simply focus on the right upper quadrant of my abdomen, not the babies, to let the doctor know whether or not I had any residual gall stones that may require surgery or any inflammation of the liver or anything else that might cause pain in that area). But the ultrasound tech said that they were supposed to scan all major abdominal organs (gall bladder area, liver, heart, kidneys, spleen) and only at the very end did she tell me that this also included the bladder AND that she would have to confirm heartbeats on both babies. So I got a surprise look at the babies today!
And they are beautiful as always. There's always that moment, that flash of time before you see movement or see the flickering heart, where you think, 'please, please, please let them be okay... show me something, anything to let me know they're alright...', and then you see the heart beat or watch them punch and kick at the ultrasound device, flip over, etc., and you just feel sheer joy that they're still alive.
At least if you're infertile you do.
And I did today. And today, they were both being little monkeys, flipping this way and that. They have to feel it in some way, because they were both perfectly still, until she zoomed in on them and pressed a little deeper and then they were doing whatever they could to keep the tech from catching their heartbeats, flipping and dodging and dashing little wrists and hands here and there. Oh, so cute. Sparkle would NOT be still! And Twinkle, once awakened from his/her slumber, was all about the acrobatics. It was the first time that I think H got to see them move at all. Very special.
3. Today's ultrasound gave no official cause for concern, except that H asked me afterward, "When we were looking at baby A there at the end, was that it's head?" and I replied that it was. And he got a little quiet, and I said, "It's got a big head, huh?" and he said, "I was just going to say that!". So it looks like baby A might have his/her father's giant melon. I mean, all babies have giant heads right now, but this one? Maybe it was the angle, but dang, this kid had a big ol' noggin.
I seem to get asked more often than is appropriate (and judged harshly more than is polite) regarding birth plans. And though there are several more serious factors at play, the fact is that my husband nearly killed his mother being born (and his mother is not necessarily a small-framed type...) is yet another reason why I feel pretty solid in my desire to have a c-birth. I mean, the man has a giant head, so giant that he had *slight* delays in various gross motor skills, such as sitting up on your own or standing or walking, because he was so top-heavy from his giant head that he kept toppling over. His head is still giant, though you wouldn't necessarily notice it unless you were looking-- I guess he's grown into it a bit, though he still has problems finding hats that fit. But the point is, aside from all my other concerns regarding giving birth, like HELL I'm going to push a giant-meloned baby out via my hoohah. Seriously, his mother damn near killed herself trying to expel his head from her body, with bleeding and tearing and points during which they were pretty sure both mother and baby would expire (granted, this was 1960s rural-ish Germany, but...). I'd rather not have a replay of that event, possibly times two, even with medical marvels of the age what they are.
So to the BITCH-HOLE in my office the other day who said, "You WANT to have a c-section?" in such a way as though I'd just let out a fart-stink the likes of which had never been smelled, before pronouncing that I wanted to bring back Hitler and his crones and install them into the world's political offices, YES. When you have years of non-healing anal fissures, and you have a lifetime of abdominal pain and you are carrying twins (which 50% of the time will make CAESARIAN BIRTH -not c-section, bitch- necessary) AND you have the genetics of a giant-headed man breeding inside you (none of which factors are ANY of your gaddamn business), YOU can make all the judgy-judgy responses you'd like. But until then, unless you are willing to grant me that EDUCATED WOMEN CAN AND DO DECIDE TO OPT FOR CAESARIAN BIRTH, please do not ask me in what way I plan to bring my babies into this world. Because I've got a serious case of Preggo-Rage, and I'd love to smack the shit out of your smug face. You had ONE low birthweight baby (because your husband is 5'2", and also because you starved yourself through your pregnancy), and even you have to admit (since you diverted from your original no-intervention, no-medication plan) that things can, and do, often go very differently than we desire, that often things change when in the throes of labor, that suddenly, that epidural sounds awfully good. So shut your rude mouth, lady.
4. Speaking of shutting people's mouths, proverbially, at least: Have you ever deleted someone from your blog reading list? I have several times, mostly because they were only on my Reader list because they were in the In The Beginning category for which I was a clicker, and they've moved on from their In The Beginning status and I never developed a connection with them or they stopped writing or our paths just diverged so far that there was no reason to have that place in my ever-expanding Reader list held by someone who just wasn't part of my reality.
But twice recently I've removed someone from my Reader list because they've posted something that offends me. Keeping in mind that I really enjoy some quite offensive things (though the onesie that read, "NICE RACK" is one I didn't enjoy-- why must we de-infantilize even our infants? Can babies not be babies? Do boys have to be turned into lechers straight out of the womb? Do we have to make them into snarky adults right away? Seriously.), it really does take a lot to offend me. Despite the fact that I am not religious myself, there have been some people I continued to keep up with even though their particular brand of fanatical conservative (borderline cult-ish, in one case) religious beliefs were totally out of sync with my own, and even then I didn't delete them.
So what did it take? One was a blog post written as though it were a letter addressed directly to me, defending the decision to label all people who have medicated births as dumb, unwilling-to-be-educated, backwoods, might-as-well-be-baby-killers. It wasn't the stance whatsoever, as I'm up for a good debate as much as the next guy. I know that I lost several readers by not bending over and giving Obama a nice juicy rim-job the second he won the primaries, so I'm no stranger to the unpopular point of view-- it wasn't the content, but the extremely aggressive way it was presented: directed to me, using my name, but instead of being a respectful email exchange, was used to publicly slam me to her other readers on her blog (who already agreed with her. Why was that necessary? It was clear that I was the lone voice saying, Hmm. I'm educated and I want a c-birth and here's why. Did you really need to call me out like that?).
Delete.
So what else did it take? There was a person on my Reader list who was honestly only there because she fell into that In The Beginning category. I had become mildly involved in her story, leaving occasional comments, but there was certainly no relationship there. And this person didn't do anything I wouldn't have, anything I felt was offensive- She posted a video of a snarky song, which I would gladly do. But the topic of the snark regarded how pregnant ladies were (basically) stick-up-the-ass, trite morons incapable of normal conversation, etc. And she did so on a blog where the topic generally remains dedicated to the process of trying hard to become pregnant. And I know that when you want to be pregnant but aren't, you can feel some pretty angry feelings toward pregnant women. But a reality of being part of this community is that people get pregnant. And when it isn't you, it SUCKS. I know. But you probably have some readers who are pregnant. And pregnant women aren't necessarily known to be the most emotionally stable people.
I have a wicked sense of humor, especially for the wildly inappropriate. But pointing out that saying, "as long as it's healthy" isn't an appropriate response to a question about gender is a schtick that not only has already been done (thanks to Julie, over at A Little Pregnant, who pointed out that weirdness almost two years ago...), but it's not really that funny. Nor is it an indicator of a pregnant person's inability to answer your question appropriately. It's the only appropriate response to a highly personal question which has no real good answer. And if you hate pregnant women so much, WHY would you ask it in the first place? Anyhow, the song is sung by two smug please-wash-your-nasty-hair hipster twentysomethings who don't like pregnant women and appear to think that, OH, my, aren't we charming and funny and clever for saying that pregnant women are airheads? Um, no. You need to take a shower. And here. This is called a hairbrush. You use it to brush your hair.
Anyhow, the blog author didn't do or say any of these things herself. But she shared a video where someone else did. And so this is the first time that I have removed someone from my readership because of something someone else said. And because I thought that there was the possibility that more of that sort of thing might appear on her blog, and even though it was probably funny in a bitter-infertile way (which, as we all know, is tinged by a giant dose of jealousy), being that I'm one of those pregnant airheads, I have too many other things in my life that piss me off and freak me out and worry me and get under my skin. There are too many other real life situations that cause stress and anxiety, and I don't need to hear things like that inside my infertile community.
So, no hard feelings (seriously, none at all), but delete.
And in my case, if something happens and you disappear from my Reader list, most of the time, that means that you cease to exist in my head, because I keep up with blogs via my Reader account. I mean, yeah. There're people whose wit and caring and joy have infected my brain, whose existence will never be forgotten, but generally, if I don't have a relationship with someone and their blog disappears, it's like I never knew them.
So, what, if anything, has caused you to stop reading a blog? (Was it my reference just then to tossing the President's salad? I hope not. We're all friends around here, right? I mean, he's not my favorite President, but he's so much better than the one we had before that it's hard not to think he's doing at least an okay job so far. Even I can admit that.) Has there ever been a situation where you actually had a relationship with a writer and then decided to cease that relationship? What did it take for that to happen?
5. Seriously, you guys. My babies are gorgeous. I am smitten, totally completely enamored with the little things.
Erm, okay. My toes are sufficiently frozen from sitting in my icebox of an office. I must look in to getting one of those Eco-Heaters that Sue recommended. They sell them at Callahan's General Store in Austin (though Asheville is the closest local place where I can buy one, and that's, like, 150 miles from here...), where one can also buy live chicks and ducks and various forms of feed for livestock and saddles and bridles and cow trailers and whatnot. I actually raised several ducks bought at Callahan's when I was a child. So adorable. And stinky. Duck poop smells really bad. Anyhow, they all eventually ran away from home. The siren song of the creek in the back yard was too much (not to mention their non-clipped wings and lack of roofed enclosure made escape a logical conclusion...). They were wild(-ish) and mostly nature-fed anyway, and for a few years there, they came back once or twice a year to visit and still let me pat their little feathered backs.
I swear I didn't grow up on a farm. We were really only 5-10 miles outside the city...
Anyhow, cold toes demand I stop here. What of you?
.
2. Oh, the babies. Y'all? My babies are beautiful. They really, really are. H went with me to an ultrasound appointment today that was at the local hospital (because it was supposed to simply focus on the right upper quadrant of my abdomen, not the babies, to let the doctor know whether or not I had any residual gall stones that may require surgery or any inflammation of the liver or anything else that might cause pain in that area). But the ultrasound tech said that they were supposed to scan all major abdominal organs (gall bladder area, liver, heart, kidneys, spleen) and only at the very end did she tell me that this also included the bladder AND that she would have to confirm heartbeats on both babies. So I got a surprise look at the babies today!
And they are beautiful as always. There's always that moment, that flash of time before you see movement or see the flickering heart, where you think, 'please, please, please let them be okay... show me something, anything to let me know they're alright...', and then you see the heart beat or watch them punch and kick at the ultrasound device, flip over, etc., and you just feel sheer joy that they're still alive.
At least if you're infertile you do.
And I did today. And today, they were both being little monkeys, flipping this way and that. They have to feel it in some way, because they were both perfectly still, until she zoomed in on them and pressed a little deeper and then they were doing whatever they could to keep the tech from catching their heartbeats, flipping and dodging and dashing little wrists and hands here and there. Oh, so cute. Sparkle would NOT be still! And Twinkle, once awakened from his/her slumber, was all about the acrobatics. It was the first time that I think H got to see them move at all. Very special.
3. Today's ultrasound gave no official cause for concern, except that H asked me afterward, "When we were looking at baby A there at the end, was that it's head?" and I replied that it was. And he got a little quiet, and I said, "It's got a big head, huh?" and he said, "I was just going to say that!". So it looks like baby A might have his/her father's giant melon. I mean, all babies have giant heads right now, but this one? Maybe it was the angle, but dang, this kid had a big ol' noggin.
I seem to get asked more often than is appropriate (and judged harshly more than is polite) regarding birth plans. And though there are several more serious factors at play, the fact is that my husband nearly killed his mother being born (and his mother is not necessarily a small-framed type...) is yet another reason why I feel pretty solid in my desire to have a c-birth. I mean, the man has a giant head, so giant that he had *slight* delays in various gross motor skills, such as sitting up on your own or standing or walking, because he was so top-heavy from his giant head that he kept toppling over. His head is still giant, though you wouldn't necessarily notice it unless you were looking-- I guess he's grown into it a bit, though he still has problems finding hats that fit. But the point is, aside from all my other concerns regarding giving birth, like HELL I'm going to push a giant-meloned baby out via my hoohah. Seriously, his mother damn near killed herself trying to expel his head from her body, with bleeding and tearing and points during which they were pretty sure both mother and baby would expire (granted, this was 1960s rural-ish Germany, but...). I'd rather not have a replay of that event, possibly times two, even with medical marvels of the age what they are.
So to the BITCH-HOLE in my office the other day who said, "You WANT to have a c-section?" in such a way as though I'd just let out a fart-stink the likes of which had never been smelled, before pronouncing that I wanted to bring back Hitler and his crones and install them into the world's political offices, YES. When you have years of non-healing anal fissures, and you have a lifetime of abdominal pain and you are carrying twins (which 50% of the time will make CAESARIAN BIRTH -not c-section, bitch- necessary) AND you have the genetics of a giant-headed man breeding inside you (none of which factors are ANY of your gaddamn business), YOU can make all the judgy-judgy responses you'd like. But until then, unless you are willing to grant me that EDUCATED WOMEN CAN AND DO DECIDE TO OPT FOR CAESARIAN BIRTH, please do not ask me in what way I plan to bring my babies into this world. Because I've got a serious case of Preggo-Rage, and I'd love to smack the shit out of your smug face. You had ONE low birthweight baby (because your husband is 5'2", and also because you starved yourself through your pregnancy), and even you have to admit (since you diverted from your original no-intervention, no-medication plan) that things can, and do, often go very differently than we desire, that often things change when in the throes of labor, that suddenly, that epidural sounds awfully good. So shut your rude mouth, lady.
4. Speaking of shutting people's mouths, proverbially, at least: Have you ever deleted someone from your blog reading list? I have several times, mostly because they were only on my Reader list because they were in the In The Beginning category for which I was a clicker, and they've moved on from their In The Beginning status and I never developed a connection with them or they stopped writing or our paths just diverged so far that there was no reason to have that place in my ever-expanding Reader list held by someone who just wasn't part of my reality.
But twice recently I've removed someone from my Reader list because they've posted something that offends me. Keeping in mind that I really enjoy some quite offensive things (though the onesie that read, "NICE RACK" is one I didn't enjoy-- why must we de-infantilize even our infants? Can babies not be babies? Do boys have to be turned into lechers straight out of the womb? Do we have to make them into snarky adults right away? Seriously.), it really does take a lot to offend me. Despite the fact that I am not religious myself, there have been some people I continued to keep up with even though their particular brand of fanatical conservative (borderline cult-ish, in one case) religious beliefs were totally out of sync with my own, and even then I didn't delete them.
So what did it take? One was a blog post written as though it were a letter addressed directly to me, defending the decision to label all people who have medicated births as dumb, unwilling-to-be-educated, backwoods, might-as-well-be-baby-killers. It wasn't the stance whatsoever, as I'm up for a good debate as much as the next guy. I know that I lost several readers by not bending over and giving Obama a nice juicy rim-job the second he won the primaries, so I'm no stranger to the unpopular point of view-- it wasn't the content, but the extremely aggressive way it was presented: directed to me, using my name, but instead of being a respectful email exchange, was used to publicly slam me to her other readers on her blog (who already agreed with her. Why was that necessary? It was clear that I was the lone voice saying, Hmm. I'm educated and I want a c-birth and here's why. Did you really need to call me out like that?).
Delete.
So what else did it take? There was a person on my Reader list who was honestly only there because she fell into that In The Beginning category. I had become mildly involved in her story, leaving occasional comments, but there was certainly no relationship there. And this person didn't do anything I wouldn't have, anything I felt was offensive- She posted a video of a snarky song, which I would gladly do. But the topic of the snark regarded how pregnant ladies were (basically) stick-up-the-ass, trite morons incapable of normal conversation, etc. And she did so on a blog where the topic generally remains dedicated to the process of trying hard to become pregnant. And I know that when you want to be pregnant but aren't, you can feel some pretty angry feelings toward pregnant women. But a reality of being part of this community is that people get pregnant. And when it isn't you, it SUCKS. I know. But you probably have some readers who are pregnant. And pregnant women aren't necessarily known to be the most emotionally stable people.
I have a wicked sense of humor, especially for the wildly inappropriate. But pointing out that saying, "as long as it's healthy" isn't an appropriate response to a question about gender is a schtick that not only has already been done (thanks to Julie, over at A Little Pregnant, who pointed out that weirdness almost two years ago...), but it's not really that funny. Nor is it an indicator of a pregnant person's inability to answer your question appropriately. It's the only appropriate response to a highly personal question which has no real good answer. And if you hate pregnant women so much, WHY would you ask it in the first place? Anyhow, the song is sung by two smug please-wash-your-nasty-hair hipster twentysomethings who don't like pregnant women and appear to think that, OH, my, aren't we charming and funny and clever for saying that pregnant women are airheads? Um, no. You need to take a shower. And here. This is called a hairbrush. You use it to brush your hair.
Anyhow, the blog author didn't do or say any of these things herself. But she shared a video where someone else did. And so this is the first time that I have removed someone from my readership because of something someone else said. And because I thought that there was the possibility that more of that sort of thing might appear on her blog, and even though it was probably funny in a bitter-infertile way (which, as we all know, is tinged by a giant dose of jealousy), being that I'm one of those pregnant airheads, I have too many other things in my life that piss me off and freak me out and worry me and get under my skin. There are too many other real life situations that cause stress and anxiety, and I don't need to hear things like that inside my infertile community.
So, no hard feelings (seriously, none at all), but delete.
And in my case, if something happens and you disappear from my Reader list, most of the time, that means that you cease to exist in my head, because I keep up with blogs via my Reader account. I mean, yeah. There're people whose wit and caring and joy have infected my brain, whose existence will never be forgotten, but generally, if I don't have a relationship with someone and their blog disappears, it's like I never knew them.
So, what, if anything, has caused you to stop reading a blog? (Was it my reference just then to tossing the President's salad? I hope not. We're all friends around here, right? I mean, he's not my favorite President, but he's so much better than the one we had before that it's hard not to think he's doing at least an okay job so far. Even I can admit that.) Has there ever been a situation where you actually had a relationship with a writer and then decided to cease that relationship? What did it take for that to happen?
5. Seriously, you guys. My babies are gorgeous. I am smitten, totally completely enamored with the little things.
Erm, okay. My toes are sufficiently frozen from sitting in my icebox of an office. I must look in to getting one of those Eco-Heaters that Sue recommended. They sell them at Callahan's General Store in Austin (though Asheville is the closest local place where I can buy one, and that's, like, 150 miles from here...), where one can also buy live chicks and ducks and various forms of feed for livestock and saddles and bridles and cow trailers and whatnot. I actually raised several ducks bought at Callahan's when I was a child. So adorable. And stinky. Duck poop smells really bad. Anyhow, they all eventually ran away from home. The siren song of the creek in the back yard was too much (not to mention their non-clipped wings and lack of roofed enclosure made escape a logical conclusion...). They were wild(-ish) and mostly nature-fed anyway, and for a few years there, they came back once or twice a year to visit and still let me pat their little feathered backs.
I swear I didn't grow up on a farm. We were really only 5-10 miles outside the city...
Anyhow, cold toes demand I stop here. What of you?
.
Monday, December 7, 2009
This and That
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Defending my decision to be a TOTAL LARD ASS throughout this pregnancy. As of this morning, I've gained yet another pound. If I count from my pee-stick-day weight, that's about 5-6 lbs, or from pre-IVF-time, that's precisely 10.5 lbs. And as I am 10.5 weeks, that's exactly on target for someone who was on the high end of overweight/low end of obese BMI to start with. I keep telling myself that I don't care, that I'll eat (generally) well and exercise as I can, but what I find myself thinking is that the donut I had in addition to my normal breakfast this morning has now wiped out any extra calories I should be consuming today, that I must punish myself the rest of the day for my ill habits this morning. I guiltily ate my lunch, even though I logically know that I need to eat, and that it was past my usual lunch time and I was hungry and I generally need to eat a lot right now. So clearly, I have some really jacked up issues when it comes to body/weight/size/eating when just the mere suggestion from my doc that I need to exercise more has me on the precipice of a breakdown about eating when I'm hungry.
But DAMN, that donut was good. You can't bring two dozen warm Krispy Kremes past the desk of a pregnant lady and expect her to demurely decline when offered one.
The thing is, I tell myself that I'm eating healthy, and I am. My meals are vegetable-based, balanced in protein, fats and whole carbs, my portion sizes are only slightly larger than usual and still easily half the size of my (skinny) husband's portions. Want to see genetics at play? Watch my husband wolf down SIX SERVINGS of pasta, plus double sides (and a whiff of salad, just for the heck of it), and then listen to him complain the next day when his favorite jeans are getting a little too loose. Un-effin'-fair. But my point is that while my meals are good, and even most of my snacks are good (whole grains with a touch of protein-- yogurt and granola, oatmeal with milk, apple and peanut butter, etc.), my sugar consumption is through the frickin' roof. With PCOS, there is the tendency to develop gestational diabetes at a rate much higher than the general population. And while I exercised and medicated my PCOS into virtual oblivion, it's still a factor in the systemic functioning of my body, and therefore a consideration as it concerns my diet. Pre-pregnancy, I ate one small sugary snack a day, or maybe a larger dessert-ish item once a week. But since I became pregnant, despite my good diet, I find myself craving sweets like never before. Fruit helps curb that craving, but I still eat at least one larger-than-before sugary snack a day. A handful of Skittles yesterday, an apple turnover with ice cream the day before (ice cream = quality dairy protein, right?), a smattering of gummi bears, a chocolate square or two and two ginger ales the day before that. Sugar is my demon, and when I'm not hardcore running, I can feel my body packing on the fat as I eat more and more of it. It's an issue, and one I hate confronting, because it means I have to admit that despite my adherence to a whole food diet, I maybe don't eat as well as I think I do.
But whatever. I hereby declare the conversation regarding my weight to be DONE, until further notice. I must stop myself from my incessant desire to obsess over this issue. Done. Period.
So, in case you weren't familiar yet, here's a link to a site I only recently discovered. It is just so funny, and a comfort to those of us who are obsessive researchers and come across new ways we're going to kill and/or permanently mentally fuck up our children on a daily basis.
Let's Panic About Babies!
I'm generally anti-"Rude-Statement-On-Children's-Clothing", but this onesie had me in tears I was laughing so hard. I was really divided as to whether or not to put it on my registry, but COME ON. How frickin' funny is this???
Buy it here.
In other boring news, I attempted a bit of winterizing in our house over the weekend. We bought this plastic stuff for our windows (particularly the office windows), and some new foam rubber sealer stuff and a door sweep for the exterior door in our bedroom. Something about the new arrangement of our bedroom furniture keeps the heat from the vent behind/under our bed from reaching my side of the bedroom, but keeps H nice and toasty. Additionally, H is a TOTAL THIEF when it comes to bedclothes, so I wake up shivering with an inch of blanket covering me and H actually growls at me in his sleep when I try to retrieve my fair share (yes. the man growls at his pregnant wife- in his sleep- when she tries to pull the blanket and comforter back to her side of the bed...). And to top it off, the exterior door is directly adjacent to my bed, so you add the no-heat, plus drafty door, plus COVER HOG HUSBAND, and it's a most unpleasant place to be.
Side note: I'm pretty much cold 99% of the time. The other 1%, I'm sweating and pulling off layers as fast as I can, but mostly, I'm super shivery lately. I read on pregnancy sites that apparently, I'm supposed to be all toasty warm all the time, due to the additional blood (and insulation, though I did declare that topic done, so we can ignore that factor for now...). I hear from other people I'm supposed to be leaping for joy that I'm not going to be pregnant during the heat of the summer, since I would be a melted, sweltering mess even without the summer temperatures. And this I presume is why there are all of three maternity sweaters to be found anywhere. I was even advised by one site that I should not buy a maternity coat, because I will be so damn hot all the time I won't need one (I wasn't going to buy one anyway, because I still have the wool peacoat I bought when I was pushing 260 lbs, so I figure that should work to keep me warm through the cold months as I grow ever larger). So, two questions: One, if I'm suddenly supposed to become a human radiator, when can I expect this to happen? Because I'm pretty much freezing all. the. time. (see aforementioned drafty effin' windows and cruel, cruel husband). This is only the very beginning of the winter (though it has been unseasonably cold unseasonably early this year, and I have had no mulled cider with brandy to comfort me), so how am I going to survive another three months of this? And two, if I'm not going to turn into a radiator any time soon, where can I find non-ugly heavier weight maternity sweaters? I went to Motherhood Maternity in the mall, and they had two different monstrosities in varying heathered colors made of some sort of hairy fake-mohair/just enough wool to itch the crap out of you blend, but that was about it. Hideous, both of them. Any suggestions? I've got two lighter weight sweaters, but they aren't keeping the shivers at bay...
Another side note: When you are 10.5 weeks, it's a really bad idea to allow yourself to continue to read blog posts written by people discussing their 10th week loss. Seriously. Finslippy wrote about it today, linking to a post from years ago when she had discovered that she had miscarried during her tenth week, and instead of just clicking away, I read on in horror, thinking, "What if that tiniest smudge of beige on the tissue last week means that my babies are DEAD???" I mean, it's so incredibly sad how many people I know (in real life AND in the bloggy world) who have lost babies at the 10 week mark. This is the magical week where if things are going to go vastly wrong, they generally do. It's the total mind-fuck, because you're so close to being out of the woods (sort of), and so close to the end of that precarious first trimester, then WHOOPS! Goodbye, sweet baby! You made it through the hard part, all that brain-growing, and organ-developing, but you weren't meant for this world! This tenth week is almost harder than the early parts of pregnancy, because I just happen to know so. damn. many. stories of tenth week loss. I mean, not that loss at other times isn't horrible and scary (I know that each loss at each different time comes with it's very own set of mind-fucks and what ifs and whys), but to be on the cusp of the supposed safe time, the time when you can finally widely spread your joy with likely impunity, and WHAM. Crushing horror. Oh, how that must suck. You've seen the heartbeat. You've watched them wiggle on the screen. And then, they're just gone? Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Maybe just being at this exact gestational age is hitting me hard right now, but what an atrocious scenario. So yeah. Obsessing over people who lost babies at the gestational age where you currently are is not a good idea for a hormonal pregnant lady.
And further side notes: New pregnancy symptom? Incredibly itchy nipples. This happened to me once before, when I started taking the metformin. My newly adjusting sugar (and thus hormone) levels made my nipples itch like mad (I don't think that's a documented side effect, but per my doctor, that is what was likely causing the insane itching, though it did prompt a mammogram, which turned up nothing). So I'm thinking that some new hormone must've ramped up to higher levels, because the itching, OH, the ITCHING! Nothing alleviates it. It's more like a tingling that turns into an itch, so I don't think it's something superficial that could be aided by cortisone and the like. Did anyone else have the twitchy-itchy boobs/areola/nipples during pregnancy? Or is this just some random "Kate" thing? Other symptoms continue: Bloating (I seriously think that half of the weight gain is pounds and pounds of food that refuses to move through my intestines, even though I am certainly pooping enough), Acne (what is this new kind of acne that will not respond to treatment??? WTF???), Tiredness and/or Insomnia (what a great combo that one is!), and general moodiness. I actually yelled at another car on campus today because I was making an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street in front of a parked state trooper and the oncoming car was going so fast that I didn't see them until they were right up on me, so I yelled to SLOW DOWN. I stopped my car in such a way as I was blocking their lane, then completed my U-turn, stared right at the driver and shouted, "SLOW DOWN. GOD DAMN IT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???" (which is an interesting turn of phrase for someone who doesn't necessarily believe in a god, specific, and certainly doesn't believe in a god that responds to my demands to damn something, and doesn't believe in the concept of hell to which someone would be damned...). And this car had a faculty/staff parking sticker, so even though I didn't recognize the driver, I was possibly yelling at some person with whom H might have professional contact. Excellent job, Kate. But still. She was driving excessively fast, considering that the on campus speed limit is 20 mph.
More: Is anyone else bothered by people who have the same name as you in the blogging world? I mean, I know that Kate isn't the most unique name in the world, but damn if there aren't suddenly ten other Kates just in the IF blogosphere (there were plenty before when I came on the scene, so maybe my appearance caused this conundrum for someone else back then, but there are suddenly several new Kates who have entered the circle of blogs that I read). It's all very confusing. I click on people's posts and I see my name and I think, 'did I already comment here?' and then I scroll down further and I see my name again, and I think, 'hmm, maybe I did comment here.' But no. It's just one or two of the other thirty thousand bajillion Kates in this realm. I know that I don't have the trademark on my name, but still. I'm thinking I need to change my blogger name so that I can be distinctly Bee In The Bonnet Kate. Lest there be any confusion, there is none other quite like Kate Proper, and I'd rather not have my witty-yet-caring-three-thousand-word-comment reputation be sullied by a mistaken name. Of course, other Kates are thinking, 'I need to make sure my good name isn't sullied by that foul-languaged-diarrhea-of-the-mouth jerk over at Bee In The Bonnet!'
And so. Where was I? (pregnancy symptom number 344: absentmindedness. Alternately, a complete inability to understand why the rest of the world isn't as obsessed with my pregnancy as I am. HOW can they expect me to think of anything else besides the glorious miracle of life that is the pregnant woman??? I have officially become that woman I hate, who has her head in the clouds and a hand propped sweetly against her growing belly, clearly thinking that the whole damn world must come to a screeching halt because SHE. IS. GESTATING!!! Did you not know??? Oh, I hate her, and I am her. Sad.) Ah, yes. Winterizing. It has made a difference in our office, but not enough that it will be okay for babies in this room next winter. It used to be close to ten degrees colder in here than in the rest of the house (brilliant design placing the heating vent on the wall behind the door, such that when the door is open, the vent is completely blocked), but it is now probably just five degrees lower. Still cold (my toes are still frozen as we speak), but bearable. If I wasn't such a miser with the heat, we might not have that problem, but I simply can't afford to set the thermostat any higher. $500 electric bills are unacceptable and unaffordable in a one-income family, and that's what they were last winter when I set the thermostat as I do now. Gotta do something about that. Oh, and the door insulation on my side of the bedroom seems to have had a similar effect in the bedroom. I no longer feel a bone-chilling cold patch by the door, but it is still decidedly colder there than elsewhere in that room. Better, but not good enough.
So. Any tips for winterizing a drafty old house? I mean, besides replacing all of the windows and redoing insulation throughout the house and installing a gas heat backer for your heat pump (all of which are brilliant ideas but are outside the budget right now)?
Ah. Three more work days before I'm DONE (Wednesday, Monday and next Wednesday). One and a half weeks till I'm HOME for the holidays. Just a few more weeks till Christmas and New Years and friends and being in my favorite spot on Earth.
And you? Any plans for the holidays? Any advice regarding temperature in the old house or the radiation properties of the pregnant woman (and/or the dressing of the pregnant lady to modify the chill-tendency)? Rude(-ish) onesies-- tacky or not? What are your dietary weaknesses?
But DAMN, that donut was good. You can't bring two dozen warm Krispy Kremes past the desk of a pregnant lady and expect her to demurely decline when offered one.
The thing is, I tell myself that I'm eating healthy, and I am. My meals are vegetable-based, balanced in protein, fats and whole carbs, my portion sizes are only slightly larger than usual and still easily half the size of my (skinny) husband's portions. Want to see genetics at play? Watch my husband wolf down SIX SERVINGS of pasta, plus double sides (and a whiff of salad, just for the heck of it), and then listen to him complain the next day when his favorite jeans are getting a little too loose. Un-effin'-fair. But my point is that while my meals are good, and even most of my snacks are good (whole grains with a touch of protein-- yogurt and granola, oatmeal with milk, apple and peanut butter, etc.), my sugar consumption is through the frickin' roof. With PCOS, there is the tendency to develop gestational diabetes at a rate much higher than the general population. And while I exercised and medicated my PCOS into virtual oblivion, it's still a factor in the systemic functioning of my body, and therefore a consideration as it concerns my diet. Pre-pregnancy, I ate one small sugary snack a day, or maybe a larger dessert-ish item once a week. But since I became pregnant, despite my good diet, I find myself craving sweets like never before. Fruit helps curb that craving, but I still eat at least one larger-than-before sugary snack a day. A handful of Skittles yesterday, an apple turnover with ice cream the day before (ice cream = quality dairy protein, right?), a smattering of gummi bears, a chocolate square or two and two ginger ales the day before that. Sugar is my demon, and when I'm not hardcore running, I can feel my body packing on the fat as I eat more and more of it. It's an issue, and one I hate confronting, because it means I have to admit that despite my adherence to a whole food diet, I maybe don't eat as well as I think I do.
But whatever. I hereby declare the conversation regarding my weight to be DONE, until further notice. I must stop myself from my incessant desire to obsess over this issue. Done. Period.
So, in case you weren't familiar yet, here's a link to a site I only recently discovered. It is just so funny, and a comfort to those of us who are obsessive researchers and come across new ways we're going to kill and/or permanently mentally fuck up our children on a daily basis.
Let's Panic About Babies!
I'm generally anti-"Rude-Statement-On-Children's-Clothing", but this onesie had me in tears I was laughing so hard. I was really divided as to whether or not to put it on my registry, but COME ON. How frickin' funny is this???
Buy it here.
In other boring news, I attempted a bit of winterizing in our house over the weekend. We bought this plastic stuff for our windows (particularly the office windows), and some new foam rubber sealer stuff and a door sweep for the exterior door in our bedroom. Something about the new arrangement of our bedroom furniture keeps the heat from the vent behind/under our bed from reaching my side of the bedroom, but keeps H nice and toasty. Additionally, H is a TOTAL THIEF when it comes to bedclothes, so I wake up shivering with an inch of blanket covering me and H actually growls at me in his sleep when I try to retrieve my fair share (yes. the man growls at his pregnant wife- in his sleep- when she tries to pull the blanket and comforter back to her side of the bed...). And to top it off, the exterior door is directly adjacent to my bed, so you add the no-heat, plus drafty door, plus COVER HOG HUSBAND, and it's a most unpleasant place to be.
Side note: I'm pretty much cold 99% of the time. The other 1%, I'm sweating and pulling off layers as fast as I can, but mostly, I'm super shivery lately. I read on pregnancy sites that apparently, I'm supposed to be all toasty warm all the time, due to the additional blood (and insulation, though I did declare that topic done, so we can ignore that factor for now...). I hear from other people I'm supposed to be leaping for joy that I'm not going to be pregnant during the heat of the summer, since I would be a melted, sweltering mess even without the summer temperatures. And this I presume is why there are all of three maternity sweaters to be found anywhere. I was even advised by one site that I should not buy a maternity coat, because I will be so damn hot all the time I won't need one (I wasn't going to buy one anyway, because I still have the wool peacoat I bought when I was pushing 260 lbs, so I figure that should work to keep me warm through the cold months as I grow ever larger). So, two questions: One, if I'm suddenly supposed to become a human radiator, when can I expect this to happen? Because I'm pretty much freezing all. the. time. (see aforementioned drafty effin' windows and cruel, cruel husband). This is only the very beginning of the winter (though it has been unseasonably cold unseasonably early this year, and I have had no mulled cider with brandy to comfort me), so how am I going to survive another three months of this? And two, if I'm not going to turn into a radiator any time soon, where can I find non-ugly heavier weight maternity sweaters? I went to Motherhood Maternity in the mall, and they had two different monstrosities in varying heathered colors made of some sort of hairy fake-mohair/just enough wool to itch the crap out of you blend, but that was about it. Hideous, both of them. Any suggestions? I've got two lighter weight sweaters, but they aren't keeping the shivers at bay...
Another side note: When you are 10.5 weeks, it's a really bad idea to allow yourself to continue to read blog posts written by people discussing their 10th week loss. Seriously. Finslippy wrote about it today, linking to a post from years ago when she had discovered that she had miscarried during her tenth week, and instead of just clicking away, I read on in horror, thinking, "What if that tiniest smudge of beige on the tissue last week means that my babies are DEAD???" I mean, it's so incredibly sad how many people I know (in real life AND in the bloggy world) who have lost babies at the 10 week mark. This is the magical week where if things are going to go vastly wrong, they generally do. It's the total mind-fuck, because you're so close to being out of the woods (sort of), and so close to the end of that precarious first trimester, then WHOOPS! Goodbye, sweet baby! You made it through the hard part, all that brain-growing, and organ-developing, but you weren't meant for this world! This tenth week is almost harder than the early parts of pregnancy, because I just happen to know so. damn. many. stories of tenth week loss. I mean, not that loss at other times isn't horrible and scary (I know that each loss at each different time comes with it's very own set of mind-fucks and what ifs and whys), but to be on the cusp of the supposed safe time, the time when you can finally widely spread your joy with likely impunity, and WHAM. Crushing horror. Oh, how that must suck. You've seen the heartbeat. You've watched them wiggle on the screen. And then, they're just gone? Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Maybe just being at this exact gestational age is hitting me hard right now, but what an atrocious scenario. So yeah. Obsessing over people who lost babies at the gestational age where you currently are is not a good idea for a hormonal pregnant lady.
And further side notes: New pregnancy symptom? Incredibly itchy nipples. This happened to me once before, when I started taking the metformin. My newly adjusting sugar (and thus hormone) levels made my nipples itch like mad (I don't think that's a documented side effect, but per my doctor, that is what was likely causing the insane itching, though it did prompt a mammogram, which turned up nothing). So I'm thinking that some new hormone must've ramped up to higher levels, because the itching, OH, the ITCHING! Nothing alleviates it. It's more like a tingling that turns into an itch, so I don't think it's something superficial that could be aided by cortisone and the like. Did anyone else have the twitchy-itchy boobs/areola/nipples during pregnancy? Or is this just some random "Kate" thing? Other symptoms continue: Bloating (I seriously think that half of the weight gain is pounds and pounds of food that refuses to move through my intestines, even though I am certainly pooping enough), Acne (what is this new kind of acne that will not respond to treatment??? WTF???), Tiredness and/or Insomnia (what a great combo that one is!), and general moodiness. I actually yelled at another car on campus today because I was making an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street in front of a parked state trooper and the oncoming car was going so fast that I didn't see them until they were right up on me, so I yelled to SLOW DOWN. I stopped my car in such a way as I was blocking their lane, then completed my U-turn, stared right at the driver and shouted, "SLOW DOWN. GOD DAMN IT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???" (which is an interesting turn of phrase for someone who doesn't necessarily believe in a god, specific, and certainly doesn't believe in a god that responds to my demands to damn something, and doesn't believe in the concept of hell to which someone would be damned...). And this car had a faculty/staff parking sticker, so even though I didn't recognize the driver, I was possibly yelling at some person with whom H might have professional contact. Excellent job, Kate. But still. She was driving excessively fast, considering that the on campus speed limit is 20 mph.
More: Is anyone else bothered by people who have the same name as you in the blogging world? I mean, I know that Kate isn't the most unique name in the world, but damn if there aren't suddenly ten other Kates just in the IF blogosphere (there were plenty before when I came on the scene, so maybe my appearance caused this conundrum for someone else back then, but there are suddenly several new Kates who have entered the circle of blogs that I read). It's all very confusing. I click on people's posts and I see my name and I think, 'did I already comment here?' and then I scroll down further and I see my name again, and I think, 'hmm, maybe I did comment here.' But no. It's just one or two of the other thirty thousand bajillion Kates in this realm. I know that I don't have the trademark on my name, but still. I'm thinking I need to change my blogger name so that I can be distinctly Bee In The Bonnet Kate. Lest there be any confusion, there is none other quite like Kate Proper, and I'd rather not have my witty-yet-caring-three-thousand-word-comment reputation be sullied by a mistaken name. Of course, other Kates are thinking, 'I need to make sure my good name isn't sullied by that foul-languaged-diarrhea-of-the-mouth jerk over at Bee In The Bonnet!'
And so. Where was I? (pregnancy symptom number 344: absentmindedness. Alternately, a complete inability to understand why the rest of the world isn't as obsessed with my pregnancy as I am. HOW can they expect me to think of anything else besides the glorious miracle of life that is the pregnant woman??? I have officially become that woman I hate, who has her head in the clouds and a hand propped sweetly against her growing belly, clearly thinking that the whole damn world must come to a screeching halt because SHE. IS. GESTATING!!! Did you not know??? Oh, I hate her, and I am her. Sad.) Ah, yes. Winterizing. It has made a difference in our office, but not enough that it will be okay for babies in this room next winter. It used to be close to ten degrees colder in here than in the rest of the house (brilliant design placing the heating vent on the wall behind the door, such that when the door is open, the vent is completely blocked), but it is now probably just five degrees lower. Still cold (my toes are still frozen as we speak), but bearable. If I wasn't such a miser with the heat, we might not have that problem, but I simply can't afford to set the thermostat any higher. $500 electric bills are unacceptable and unaffordable in a one-income family, and that's what they were last winter when I set the thermostat as I do now. Gotta do something about that. Oh, and the door insulation on my side of the bedroom seems to have had a similar effect in the bedroom. I no longer feel a bone-chilling cold patch by the door, but it is still decidedly colder there than elsewhere in that room. Better, but not good enough.
So. Any tips for winterizing a drafty old house? I mean, besides replacing all of the windows and redoing insulation throughout the house and installing a gas heat backer for your heat pump (all of which are brilliant ideas but are outside the budget right now)?
Ah. Three more work days before I'm DONE (Wednesday, Monday and next Wednesday). One and a half weeks till I'm HOME for the holidays. Just a few more weeks till Christmas and New Years and friends and being in my favorite spot on Earth.
And you? Any plans for the holidays? Any advice regarding temperature in the old house or the radiation properties of the pregnant woman (and/or the dressing of the pregnant lady to modify the chill-tendency)? Rude(-ish) onesies-- tacky or not? What are your dietary weaknesses?
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
OB Jackpot!
Yeah, so I had my first meeting with the actual OB, and she's a total badass. I need to come up with a clever nickname for her, but I'm afraid I'm creatively tapped at the moment. I had assumed that this would just be a quick issue-check appointment, since I was having that issue with the abdomen pain for which the appointment was made, but it was actually a first-appointment-with-the-OB plus issue-check appointment. So, I had the pleasure of dropping trou for a chlamydia/gonorrhea test (though I escaped a pap since I had managed to convince them that the one I had in late July was sufficient-- though I somehow was unable to convince them that the full STD panel work up I had at the same time was also sufficient. Oh, well.), but I also got the unexpected thrill of another ultrasound, just to check the heartbeats. They had a real dinosaur of a machine, so I didn't get any pictures, plus after trying with the normal scanner, they had to switch to the trans-vaginal scanner to get a clearer look at the heartbeats. Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Dildo Cam!
Pausing here to note the pointedly second-class way cycling IVF patients are treated as opposed to those who actually get pregnant:
-heated speculums
-warm ultrasound goo
-large and comfortable gowns
-generously sized sheets in which to wrap your bare lower half
-large, well-lit rooms with cushy-squishy tables to lay on
-pillows
Yeah. So not only do you get the bonus of a possible baby, you also get treated like a human being as opposed to a test subject. That said, my experiences with the actual facilities at the RE's office were totally fine. The rooms were well-appointed and modern, but the personal touches found in an OB's office clearly showed the desire to make patients as comfortable as possible, whereas those considerations seemed to be missing at the RE.
Anyhow. Back to the appointment...
So, we discussed the abdominal pain, and her theory right now is that it is pain caused by scar tissue from the prior gall bladder surgery. However, she wants me to have an abdominal ultrasound to rule out residual stones. How incredibly unfair would that be to get fricking gall stones with NO GALL BLADDER. WTF.
She had a ton of information for me, and she spilled it all with such rapidity I could barely catch up (which I like, actually.). There was not much silence in that room as she told me about her preferences for my treatment during this pregnancy. For instance, her husband is head of laparoscopic surgery at the medical school's hospital, so if I ever need urgent treatment, she prefers that I go to that hospital (as opposed to the other) because she actually has some pull at that hospital. Which is not a problem, except that my prior surgeon who I LOVE doesn't practice at that hospital, nor is it the hospital with which my primary care doc is associated. It's really frustrating to live in this tiny town with two major hospitals and to have doctors so divided as to which hospital they associate with.
Anyhow, in this early part of pregnancy, she prefers appointments every two weeks, just to check on the heartbeat. So (pointlessly, in my opinion) on the day I have my NT scan, I also have an appointment later in the day to have a heartbeat check. So two ultrasounds in one day, I guess. I would think that the NT scan would probably not progress too far if they don't see a heartbeat, right? They're so tiny right now, how could you measure the nuchal fold without catching the heartbeat? But whatever. It's another chance to gaze adoringly at tiny flickering blobs on the screen.
As it turns out, she grew up in Germany, in the south, but spent considerable amount of time in a town on the North Sea, and so, she just randomly happened to be familiar (at least with the name) of H's teetiny hometown. She also happens to live in the neighborhood across the street from me. She asked if I wanted to join her for a 5:15 a.m. run everyday (um, thanks. But no.). Which brings me to my one and only complaint about her.
She casually asked me what I was doing to "keep [myself] healthy", and I told her that pre-pregnancy, I was a runner, but that IVF took a lot out of me, and that I had been so desperately fatigued that I was having a very hard time motivating myself to do much, but that I anticipated that after I was back from the holidays, that I wanted to join the YWCA and start swimming. She approved, but encouraged me to be walking 2-3 miles a day (um, running three miles takes me more than half an hour, closer to an hour with warm up and cool down-- exactly how long does she want me to be exercising every day???). And that exercise was the key to (and here's the issue I had) preventing weight gain during pregnancy.
I am 100% in support of keeping myself healthy during this pregnancy. However (especially with a twin pregnancy), weight gain is critical during this time. I really, really do not want to get myself in that mindset, approaching this pregnancy with a desire to keep myself as skinny as possible. It's not healthy, and it's a dangerous mindset for someone who has struggled to lose weight and keep it off for years. It's been very hard for me to reverse that instinct and start focusing on eating well regardless of what my weight does. My instinct in these situations where I start gaining weight is to eat substantially less and bump up my exercise regimen, and that's not the best plan during pregnancy. As of this morning, since the day the peestick turned pink, I've gained exactly 5.5 pounds. I weighed 207.5 this morning (down a pound from yesterday-- no idea why), so since late July, when I first started down the IVF path, I've gained about 8-9 pounds. As I said in my last post, I refuse to get wound up about this, but I have to make sure that my doctor is on board with me. And right now, it doesn't look like she is, and I really hope this doesn't become an issue.
And I get her reasoning. She was a trim 130 lbs when she got pregnant with her first child, and she gained 68 lbs, which she has never lost (despite being a runner). Granted, she's tall enough that even at 198, she looks totally normal, thinner than me, so at 130, she must've been emaciated. And that's something I've noticed, the weight attitude difference between people who once had that (generally) unattainable level of skinniness, and people who have always been a bit round. I don't see roundness as the enemy. But I'm pulled because I was once much, much heavier than I am now, and I know how hard it is to lose those pounds. So part of me doesn't care about weight gain right now, but the other part keeps piping up in the back of my head about how hard it is to lose those pounds. And had I been ridiculously skinny in the first place, and was presented with the possibility of never being skinny again, I might think differently about advising people on weight gain during pregnancy, especially if pregnancy was the event that caused my seemingly irreversible weight gain. But five pounds to a skinny person is far different than five pounds to a plump person.
(Oh, and just a side-note to the anorexic a-holes who occasionally stop by this blog courtesy of an ancient fat-positive post I wrote that got linked on some stupid anorexia celebrating blog-- seriously, a blog that celebrates an atrocious eating disorder-- but YES. It's super easy to lose five pounds with diet and exercise, and thus, when you are super skinny, and "get fat", it's super easy for you to get back down to being skinny because you've only gained FIVE FRICKIN' POUNDS. Losing sixty pounds is simply not the same as losing five pounds 12 times. Bodies don't work that way, though if you haven't ever had 60 lbs to lose, I could see why you might be deluded into thinking so. So perhaps don't be so quick to advise fatties when you haven't walked a mile in their shoes...)
Anyhow, I like her personality, and I like her level of expertise, and I like that she insists on ultrasounds at every appointment (twist my arm, lady!), but we'll have to work on our discussions about weight. Overall, I couldn't have been more happy to have ended up with her as my OB. She's smart, funny, consciencious, kind and informed. I just wish she had a different attitude about weight, but I can basically lie to her and/or ignore her advice if it conflicts with what I know to be true about myself.
Oh! And I almost forgot! As we were trying to get a good look at Twinkle (little bugger has never been in a cooperative position), it waved it's little hands at the screen. I know that there isn't coordinated movement at this age, but it was cool to see movement anyhow. And Twinkle was sitting with it's legs as though it was sitting on the side of a pool, but Sparkle was sitting with tightly cross-legged, arms crossed, too. I guess I did something that rubbed Sparkle the wrong way! They were both moving around a ton, and it was very hard to get a good look at the hearts, but eventually, we were able to see both babies' pulsing beats, right at 150 bpm. Awesome.
So, that's the story of my first real OB appointment. Any good doctor stories to share (OB or non)?
Pausing here to note the pointedly second-class way cycling IVF patients are treated as opposed to those who actually get pregnant:
-heated speculums
-warm ultrasound goo
-large and comfortable gowns
-generously sized sheets in which to wrap your bare lower half
-large, well-lit rooms with cushy-squishy tables to lay on
-pillows
Yeah. So not only do you get the bonus of a possible baby, you also get treated like a human being as opposed to a test subject. That said, my experiences with the actual facilities at the RE's office were totally fine. The rooms were well-appointed and modern, but the personal touches found in an OB's office clearly showed the desire to make patients as comfortable as possible, whereas those considerations seemed to be missing at the RE.
Anyhow. Back to the appointment...
So, we discussed the abdominal pain, and her theory right now is that it is pain caused by scar tissue from the prior gall bladder surgery. However, she wants me to have an abdominal ultrasound to rule out residual stones. How incredibly unfair would that be to get fricking gall stones with NO GALL BLADDER. WTF.
She had a ton of information for me, and she spilled it all with such rapidity I could barely catch up (which I like, actually.). There was not much silence in that room as she told me about her preferences for my treatment during this pregnancy. For instance, her husband is head of laparoscopic surgery at the medical school's hospital, so if I ever need urgent treatment, she prefers that I go to that hospital (as opposed to the other) because she actually has some pull at that hospital. Which is not a problem, except that my prior surgeon who I LOVE doesn't practice at that hospital, nor is it the hospital with which my primary care doc is associated. It's really frustrating to live in this tiny town with two major hospitals and to have doctors so divided as to which hospital they associate with.
Anyhow, in this early part of pregnancy, she prefers appointments every two weeks, just to check on the heartbeat. So (pointlessly, in my opinion) on the day I have my NT scan, I also have an appointment later in the day to have a heartbeat check. So two ultrasounds in one day, I guess. I would think that the NT scan would probably not progress too far if they don't see a heartbeat, right? They're so tiny right now, how could you measure the nuchal fold without catching the heartbeat? But whatever. It's another chance to gaze adoringly at tiny flickering blobs on the screen.
As it turns out, she grew up in Germany, in the south, but spent considerable amount of time in a town on the North Sea, and so, she just randomly happened to be familiar (at least with the name) of H's teetiny hometown. She also happens to live in the neighborhood across the street from me. She asked if I wanted to join her for a 5:15 a.m. run everyday (um, thanks. But no.). Which brings me to my one and only complaint about her.
She casually asked me what I was doing to "keep [myself] healthy", and I told her that pre-pregnancy, I was a runner, but that IVF took a lot out of me, and that I had been so desperately fatigued that I was having a very hard time motivating myself to do much, but that I anticipated that after I was back from the holidays, that I wanted to join the YWCA and start swimming. She approved, but encouraged me to be walking 2-3 miles a day (um, running three miles takes me more than half an hour, closer to an hour with warm up and cool down-- exactly how long does she want me to be exercising every day???). And that exercise was the key to (and here's the issue I had) preventing weight gain during pregnancy.
I am 100% in support of keeping myself healthy during this pregnancy. However (especially with a twin pregnancy), weight gain is critical during this time. I really, really do not want to get myself in that mindset, approaching this pregnancy with a desire to keep myself as skinny as possible. It's not healthy, and it's a dangerous mindset for someone who has struggled to lose weight and keep it off for years. It's been very hard for me to reverse that instinct and start focusing on eating well regardless of what my weight does. My instinct in these situations where I start gaining weight is to eat substantially less and bump up my exercise regimen, and that's not the best plan during pregnancy. As of this morning, since the day the peestick turned pink, I've gained exactly 5.5 pounds. I weighed 207.5 this morning (down a pound from yesterday-- no idea why), so since late July, when I first started down the IVF path, I've gained about 8-9 pounds. As I said in my last post, I refuse to get wound up about this, but I have to make sure that my doctor is on board with me. And right now, it doesn't look like she is, and I really hope this doesn't become an issue.
And I get her reasoning. She was a trim 130 lbs when she got pregnant with her first child, and she gained 68 lbs, which she has never lost (despite being a runner). Granted, she's tall enough that even at 198, she looks totally normal, thinner than me, so at 130, she must've been emaciated. And that's something I've noticed, the weight attitude difference between people who once had that (generally) unattainable level of skinniness, and people who have always been a bit round. I don't see roundness as the enemy. But I'm pulled because I was once much, much heavier than I am now, and I know how hard it is to lose those pounds. So part of me doesn't care about weight gain right now, but the other part keeps piping up in the back of my head about how hard it is to lose those pounds. And had I been ridiculously skinny in the first place, and was presented with the possibility of never being skinny again, I might think differently about advising people on weight gain during pregnancy, especially if pregnancy was the event that caused my seemingly irreversible weight gain. But five pounds to a skinny person is far different than five pounds to a plump person.
(Oh, and just a side-note to the anorexic a-holes who occasionally stop by this blog courtesy of an ancient fat-positive post I wrote that got linked on some stupid anorexia celebrating blog-- seriously, a blog that celebrates an atrocious eating disorder-- but YES. It's super easy to lose five pounds with diet and exercise, and thus, when you are super skinny, and "get fat", it's super easy for you to get back down to being skinny because you've only gained FIVE FRICKIN' POUNDS. Losing sixty pounds is simply not the same as losing five pounds 12 times. Bodies don't work that way, though if you haven't ever had 60 lbs to lose, I could see why you might be deluded into thinking so. So perhaps don't be so quick to advise fatties when you haven't walked a mile in their shoes...)
Anyhow, I like her personality, and I like her level of expertise, and I like that she insists on ultrasounds at every appointment (twist my arm, lady!), but we'll have to work on our discussions about weight. Overall, I couldn't have been more happy to have ended up with her as my OB. She's smart, funny, consciencious, kind and informed. I just wish she had a different attitude about weight, but I can basically lie to her and/or ignore her advice if it conflicts with what I know to be true about myself.
Oh! And I almost forgot! As we were trying to get a good look at Twinkle (little bugger has never been in a cooperative position), it waved it's little hands at the screen. I know that there isn't coordinated movement at this age, but it was cool to see movement anyhow. And Twinkle was sitting with it's legs as though it was sitting on the side of a pool, but Sparkle was sitting with tightly cross-legged, arms crossed, too. I guess I did something that rubbed Sparkle the wrong way! They were both moving around a ton, and it was very hard to get a good look at the hearts, but eventually, we were able to see both babies' pulsing beats, right at 150 bpm. Awesome.
So, that's the story of my first real OB appointment. Any good doctor stories to share (OB or non)?
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Nine Weeks (plus six days)
Sparkle (aka John Lennon), nine weeks
Twinkle (aka Paul McCartney), nine weeks
What can I say? I'm still working on the embryonic (soon to be fetal) nicknames... But nonetheless, there they are. Weird to think that almost a full week has passed since I last saw the Sparks, but tomorrow does in fact mark the day I turn ten weeks. GAH. Can you believe it? Ten weeks already! Were this a singleton gestation, I'd be 1/4 of the way there already. Crazy.
At almost ten weeks now, I am thrilled (if a bit worried) about the fact that, other than a few question-mark moments, I seem to have escaped without any real morning sickness. I have some food aversions, but other than a time when I was reading a graphic description of someone eating their boogers, I haven't had much real nausea. The bloating continues, though it has been somewhat alleviated by the fact that I'm no longer on supplementary progesterone (I forgot to mark the occasion when it happened because my last dose was the night before I left for San Diego, and I was wound up about other stuff), though some of the bloat seems to have been replaced by real, live fat instead. So much better, right? But so far, total, I've gained about 8 pounds. And considering that this is the exact amount I gained after one week in Texas and two doses of Lupron, I don't feel too badly about that. I know that a big part of that gain is caused by IVF stuff, and plus, if I'm following Dr. Stuff-Your-Face-Then-Nap (aka Dr. Barbara Luke), I should have gained about two more pounds than that by now anyway. So. I hereby absolve myself of any weight-gain guilt.
I do have a doctor's appointment today with my new OB (I only met the new patient nurse last time), because I've been having pain that starts where my gall bladder used to be (seriously, if I didn't know for sure that the gall bladder was removed, I would think I was dealing with gall stones again), but then it starts to move down my right side, along my side to the midline of my belly, and around my belly button. By the time I finish eating dinner, my whole belly is tight and achy and tender. It's probably just IBS issues (compounded by the whole pregnant tendency to digest as though my food were plodding along on a death march), but nevertheless, I'd like to make sure there's not something else wrong, like a tumor or some crazy nonsense ("eet's noht ah toohmah!"). I'm looking forward to meeting with her. While I got a ton of information at the last appointment with the nurse, I didn't get any idea of how often I'd be seeing the doctor. I know there's not necessarily a set schedule, but other than the copious ultrasound scans I'm scheduled for over the next couple of months, there didn't seem to be any indication of when I would have normally seen the obstetrician. I mean, were it not for the TOOHMAH, I have no idea when I would be meeting this person who is supposed to be caring for me throughout this pregnancy.
Oh, well. I know I'm supposed to be all wound up about the obstetrician thing. I'm supposed to actively champion for my proper care, invest in my own health, be proactive, etc., but after having a fit with a few other obstetrics offices in this area, I just decided to let go of that fret. I have enough to fuss over. I don't need to worry about this one. As far as I understand, the person I've decided to use is the head of obstetrics and gynecology at the local medical school, and she's delivered a ton of twins, and she's supposed to be an all-around badass, so unless her bedside manner is absolutely horrid, I think I'll just deal with it. As long as my questions get answered, and I feel like she's got my (and the babies) best interests in mind, I'll be okay.
Thanks to everyone for all the suggestions. I dug through Amazon this past week and dropped a bunch of random stuff onto a baby registry list. I have no idea whether most of it will be of use or not, but I don't really care. I intend to cloth diaper, so I definitely put a bunch of cloth diapering stuff on the list (since those emther-efkers are expensive!), but I don't know exactly what it is that my MIL wants to buy. I ended up putting some things on there that are more gift-ish items (1-2 clothing items and a toy or two), but I tried to keep it to things I really thought we'd need, which end up being the practical crap that no one wants to get for you, things that aren't the kinds of things you coo over at a baby shower (I've never heard someone say, 'AWWW! An ear thermometer! Isn't that the cutest thing, EVER??'). I don't know. My MIL has already informed H that there will be a present coming for once we get the whole boy/girl thing sorted out, and another for Christmas (I don't think she realizes that the boy/girl sorting-out-thing won't be done until after Christmas, but whatev.), and to be honest, it all makes me a little uncomfortable. I'm just not ready to be making these kinds of decisions, and I know they need to be made, but I'm just not ready. I'm not ready to get baby gifts yet, when I feel like I barely know these babies at all (John and Paul can be so private at times. Comes off as aloof.).
However. Non-baby gifts are ALWAYS appreciated, and I've been remiss in not telling you about a couple of weeks ago when I got not one, but TWO sweet surprises in the mail on the same day! Melissa over at So It Goes offered a craft swap thingy, and I signed up (and greedily never offered my own...). And she sent me the CUTEST little pictures, all sparkly and sweet, perfect for a spot in the sweet Sparks' nursery. Melissa, you're the BEST! Thank you!!! And secondly, my non-blog-having-friend, Serah, sent me three pounds of potato salad! Er, okay, actually, it was a gift certificate to Whole Foods so I could procure my own potato salad, being that every pregnant lady needs some potato salad, but still! How AWESOME! It was everything I could do not to go and splurge on a big fat bottle of ripe, round, warm, fruity red zinfandel, but I've so far managed to shove aside the siren song of delicious wine. Anyhow, SERAH IS THE AWESOMEST. If you have the pleasure to know her, count yourself among the luckiest.
Lastly, I don't know if I'm getting a burst of nesting energy early or something (or if I have finally moved past my obsession with napping and can now think about other things), but the desire to rearrange the house is overwhelming. I have wanted for a long time to move my refrigerator to a different location in my kitchen and buy some countertops/cabinets to go on either side of it. It's not a hard project. There's already an outlet where I want to move it, and so I'd just have to move the existing water line. Unfortunately, the outlet currently in place isn't a grounded outlet, so I really need an electrician to put in a new one there, but then again, we also need a second outlet changed on that same wall, plus another outlet run into the adjacent room, so we should wait until we're ready to do all three before we do the one. I can move the water line myself, easy-peasy (drill hole in floor, string 1/4" hose through hole...), but I'm being hung up on the whole electricity thing again. However, once I move the fridge, I can move the table into the kitchen. And once I do that, I can set up the dining room as a playroom-ish area. And once I do that, I can make a decision about where to move our office, since the office will eventually become the nursery, but part of the office might move into the old dining room with the playroom, but I just won't know until I can get in there and move things around myself. And see, I hear after a certain point, pregnant ladies shouldn't be shoving heavy things, and crawling around in dank basements, moving things around hither and yon, etc.
But, until I do all of this other stuff, I won't be able to do the nursery, and I think that for my sanity, even if the babies room in with me for the first couple of months, there needs to be a dedicated baby-space where they can go when mama needs some quiet time. And until I figure out the nursery, my MIL will be breathing down my neck to put stuff on that registry. But whatever. We'll figure it out.
Yeah. So that's my world. What's up in yours?
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanks-to-be-given Soon
I'm in Asheville for Thanksgiving today-- there has never been a more truly pregnant-perfect holiday than Thanksgiving. I mean, I'm hungry, pretty much all the time, and Thanksgiving is all about eating, and eating all day long. And eating *lots* of carbs, which suits me very well right now.
Anyhow, we had our first OB appointment yesterday. I really love the new patient nurse. She's 150 years old, but so incredibly kind and patient and informed. And the clinic seems to be on top of their game as well. I go in on Monday for a check-up because I've been having some pain in my abdomen, probably related to bloating (and probably tangentially related to the two giant cysts on my ovaries that are still hanging around...). I have 4 more ultrasounds between now and the end of January, which again, suits me just fine (nuchal fold, cyst progress scan, anatomy scan and one more that I can't remember the reason for right now...). Awesome. Once I'm back, I'll scan in the latest ultrasound photos. They're still looking great, hearts still beating strongly.
Sorry for the brevity, but as it is the holiday, and 11:00 a.m., I should probably go ahead and shower at some point so we can get going on cooking dinner.
Oh, but one last thing... my very sweet MIL would like to send me gifts periodically and has asked me to set up a registry so she can send things we want and need. And I'm feeling like it's a little early, and I have no idea what I would want. So, are there any suggestions for things I can put on a registry that will be useful, but not too committed to a particular gender or theme? I just have no idea.
So. Have a brilliant Thanksgiving. I hope you get to eat lots and lots of food with lots and lots of people you like.
Anyhow, we had our first OB appointment yesterday. I really love the new patient nurse. She's 150 years old, but so incredibly kind and patient and informed. And the clinic seems to be on top of their game as well. I go in on Monday for a check-up because I've been having some pain in my abdomen, probably related to bloating (and probably tangentially related to the two giant cysts on my ovaries that are still hanging around...). I have 4 more ultrasounds between now and the end of January, which again, suits me just fine (nuchal fold, cyst progress scan, anatomy scan and one more that I can't remember the reason for right now...). Awesome. Once I'm back, I'll scan in the latest ultrasound photos. They're still looking great, hearts still beating strongly.
Sorry for the brevity, but as it is the holiday, and 11:00 a.m., I should probably go ahead and shower at some point so we can get going on cooking dinner.
Oh, but one last thing... my very sweet MIL would like to send me gifts periodically and has asked me to set up a registry so she can send things we want and need. And I'm feeling like it's a little early, and I have no idea what I would want. So, are there any suggestions for things I can put on a registry that will be useful, but not too committed to a particular gender or theme? I just have no idea.
So. Have a brilliant Thanksgiving. I hope you get to eat lots and lots of food with lots and lots of people you like.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Eastward, Ho!
Ah. We arrived yesterday evening from our westward jaunt. I would have told you more about it along the way, but you know what I hate? Stupid hotels that charge stupidly high rates for internet access. Stupid, is what it is.
Anyhow, forgive my silence. I didn't have internet access. Granted, even if I did, I wouldn't have had time to use it anyhow. We landed Thursday evening, and despite being asleep on my feet, we managed to walk around the downtown area a bit and find a place for dinner (mexican food! mexican food that doesn't suck! guacamole made with actual avocado, fresh avocado at that! salsa that has actual heat! I had almost forgotten what it was like...).
Thanks for drinking that giant margarita right in front of me, dear. I didn't want one anyway.
Anyhow, after dinner, I demanded rest, and so went back to the hotel and slept the sleep of death (aka the sleep of a person in the early part of a twin pregnancy who has been travelling all day without a nap). Which is fine, because I needed to be UP and ENERGETIC and HAPPY the next morning for my day with the awesome KARA!
And I'm glad I did get some sleep. We started the day with a late breakfast (aka breakfast, the second, as is the habit of the twin-pregnant lady...) at Cafe 222, a great spot for breakfast with out-of-sight waffles. I am a waffle lover, and I think I pretty much horrified Kara by plowing in to my waffle with fruit, not stopping till I hit the ceramic of the plate. Ever watch a hungry pregnant person eat? Scary.
Anyhow, after breakfast, we drove over to Balboa Park, and walked around there a bit.
Gorgeous architecture, beautiful blue skies, nice wide open green space in the middle of the city, which I love-- it's a great park. We walked for a bit at the Botanical garden building:
and then left to head to our next destination...
Which happened to be a place called Extraordinary Desserts, a place I wouldn't recommend missing if you ever happen to be in San Diego. We ordered a slice of Blood Orange Ricotta cake to share, and it was DIVINE.
A perfect lunch, indeed.
We then drove out to the beach at La Jolla (a fabulous Spanish word, which perfectly shows how very differently we pronounce certain consonants...), and saw the seals that hang out on the beach there:
So orderly, in their tidy rows laid out like that!
La Jolla is really very pretty:
Oh, and this is Kara looking at the ocean (inside joke that's a little difficult to retell, I'm afraid):
I also had to post this picture, because behind Kara is the retirement home into which we walked, bold as brass, to use their restrooms. This I like, that tendency to ask forgiveness rather than permission. It's something I don't practice in my own life often enough. It was a very nice restroom.
Anyhow, we went from there, driving up into the hills around the beach, looking for Soledad monument thingy, which we eventually found. The view from up there is spectacular:
After that, I went back to my hotel to rest a bit and to meet up with H after his conference. Kara picked us up for dinner and we went to a place called Filippe's, in Little Italy. Yum. I've really been digging the italian food lately, and this place didn't disappoint. And after that, we both happily went back to our respective hotel rooms and crashed.
The next morning, we went to see New Moon (yes, I know. I went to see it, anyway, even though you all think I'm some obsessive fan now. I'm not. I just made the mistake of starting the series and had to finish it, and thus had to go see the movie when it came out, too. Sigh. I'm not a proto-goth teen anymore. I promise.). We had a great time watching the movie and making fun of the trailers, and afterward, we had lunch at Nordstrom's, something I rarely get to do, since we don't have a Nordstrom's here.
And after that, sadly, it was time for us to part ways. Which is a good thing for my voice box, because I don't think that either of us stopped talking for more than 30 seconds during the entire time we spent together. Have you ever met someone and just instantly known that they would be your friend? Well, I had that experience when I met Kara through my blog, and so, upon meeting for the first time, it was like there were hundreds of thousands of words that had been saved up since that first time we "met", and they all had to come spilling out when we saw each other in person the first time. It was nice, is what I'm saying. I don't have a lot of friends in this area, so the chance to talk in person to a girlfriend is really, really great.
So, that afternoon after H was done with his conference obligations, we decided to find a place to get a snack, and ended up at another dessert restaurant, which specialized in crepes and gelato. So I had a chocolate and strawberry filled crepe with vanilla gelato on the side. And after a snack like that, we had to walk it off a bit, so we wandered down by the water for an hour or two until it got too cold to stay out.
We had dinner at some random restaruant (italian again, but nothing special), and then went back to the hotel to meet a colleague for a drink (again, thanks for drinking all that yummy, yummy beer for me, darling. I appreciate it.). And after that, I went back to the room and went to sleep early again.
And that was pretty much it for our trip. Our flight left at a unholy hour on Sunday morning, and since it's a cross-country flight, we spent almost all day just traveling. Never much fun, but especially not fun when your sleep schedule has been all wacky for several days, and you arrive home in the pitch black darkness, even though it's only 6:30 p.m. Ah, well. It was a fun trip, and I'm glad to be home, and I can't wait for my next excuse to go back to San Diego.
And how was your weekend?
Anyhow, forgive my silence. I didn't have internet access. Granted, even if I did, I wouldn't have had time to use it anyhow. We landed Thursday evening, and despite being asleep on my feet, we managed to walk around the downtown area a bit and find a place for dinner (mexican food! mexican food that doesn't suck! guacamole made with actual avocado, fresh avocado at that! salsa that has actual heat! I had almost forgotten what it was like...).
Thanks for drinking that giant margarita right in front of me, dear. I didn't want one anyway.
Anyhow, after dinner, I demanded rest, and so went back to the hotel and slept the sleep of death (aka the sleep of a person in the early part of a twin pregnancy who has been travelling all day without a nap). Which is fine, because I needed to be UP and ENERGETIC and HAPPY the next morning for my day with the awesome KARA!
And I'm glad I did get some sleep. We started the day with a late breakfast (aka breakfast, the second, as is the habit of the twin-pregnant lady...) at Cafe 222, a great spot for breakfast with out-of-sight waffles. I am a waffle lover, and I think I pretty much horrified Kara by plowing in to my waffle with fruit, not stopping till I hit the ceramic of the plate. Ever watch a hungry pregnant person eat? Scary.
Anyhow, after breakfast, we drove over to Balboa Park, and walked around there a bit.
Gorgeous architecture, beautiful blue skies, nice wide open green space in the middle of the city, which I love-- it's a great park. We walked for a bit at the Botanical garden building:
and then left to head to our next destination...
Which happened to be a place called Extraordinary Desserts, a place I wouldn't recommend missing if you ever happen to be in San Diego. We ordered a slice of Blood Orange Ricotta cake to share, and it was DIVINE.
A perfect lunch, indeed.
We then drove out to the beach at La Jolla (a fabulous Spanish word, which perfectly shows how very differently we pronounce certain consonants...), and saw the seals that hang out on the beach there:
So orderly, in their tidy rows laid out like that!
La Jolla is really very pretty:
Oh, and this is Kara looking at the ocean (inside joke that's a little difficult to retell, I'm afraid):
I also had to post this picture, because behind Kara is the retirement home into which we walked, bold as brass, to use their restrooms. This I like, that tendency to ask forgiveness rather than permission. It's something I don't practice in my own life often enough. It was a very nice restroom.
Anyhow, we went from there, driving up into the hills around the beach, looking for Soledad monument thingy, which we eventually found. The view from up there is spectacular:
After that, I went back to my hotel to rest a bit and to meet up with H after his conference. Kara picked us up for dinner and we went to a place called Filippe's, in Little Italy. Yum. I've really been digging the italian food lately, and this place didn't disappoint. And after that, we both happily went back to our respective hotel rooms and crashed.
The next morning, we went to see New Moon (yes, I know. I went to see it, anyway, even though you all think I'm some obsessive fan now. I'm not. I just made the mistake of starting the series and had to finish it, and thus had to go see the movie when it came out, too. Sigh. I'm not a proto-goth teen anymore. I promise.). We had a great time watching the movie and making fun of the trailers, and afterward, we had lunch at Nordstrom's, something I rarely get to do, since we don't have a Nordstrom's here.
And after that, sadly, it was time for us to part ways. Which is a good thing for my voice box, because I don't think that either of us stopped talking for more than 30 seconds during the entire time we spent together. Have you ever met someone and just instantly known that they would be your friend? Well, I had that experience when I met Kara through my blog, and so, upon meeting for the first time, it was like there were hundreds of thousands of words that had been saved up since that first time we "met", and they all had to come spilling out when we saw each other in person the first time. It was nice, is what I'm saying. I don't have a lot of friends in this area, so the chance to talk in person to a girlfriend is really, really great.
So, that afternoon after H was done with his conference obligations, we decided to find a place to get a snack, and ended up at another dessert restaurant, which specialized in crepes and gelato. So I had a chocolate and strawberry filled crepe with vanilla gelato on the side. And after a snack like that, we had to walk it off a bit, so we wandered down by the water for an hour or two until it got too cold to stay out.
We had dinner at some random restaruant (italian again, but nothing special), and then went back to the hotel to meet a colleague for a drink (again, thanks for drinking all that yummy, yummy beer for me, darling. I appreciate it.). And after that, I went back to the room and went to sleep early again.
And that was pretty much it for our trip. Our flight left at a unholy hour on Sunday morning, and since it's a cross-country flight, we spent almost all day just traveling. Never much fun, but especially not fun when your sleep schedule has been all wacky for several days, and you arrive home in the pitch black darkness, even though it's only 6:30 p.m. Ah, well. It was a fun trip, and I'm glad to be home, and I can't wait for my next excuse to go back to San Diego.
And how was your weekend?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
quick like
I'm minutes away from leaving to go to the airport. I'm visiting the SUN. And the NOT-FREEZING-ASS-COLD. (aka San Diego)
Pardon if posting continues to be light over the coming days. I'm taking the camera, so I'm sure I'll have some excellent travel photos to share on my return.
In the mean time, I recently discovered that a friend I went to school with back in the day also just underwent a successful IVF procedure. And I couldn't be happier for her. She had 6 IUIs before moving on to IVF, only to discover that she was dealing with Empty Follicle Syndrome. In all my travels through the infertility blogosphere, I've never heard of this before. From our conversations via email, I get the distinct impression that she doesn't have much of a community. While I may eventually share my blog with her, I'd be interested to find some other blogs of women who have dealt with a situation similar to hers (this Empty Follicle thing that I know nothing about). Anyone know anything about this, or know anyone who's dealt with it? Honestly, the way she describes it, it sounds sort of like premature ovarian failure (she had 18 follicles and got 3 eggs), but she says it's something different (it probably is, but I'm just trying to fit this in to what I already know, I guess).
Anyhow, any suggestions or information would be appreciated!
Otherwise, see you on the flip side, people!
Pardon if posting continues to be light over the coming days. I'm taking the camera, so I'm sure I'll have some excellent travel photos to share on my return.
In the mean time, I recently discovered that a friend I went to school with back in the day also just underwent a successful IVF procedure. And I couldn't be happier for her. She had 6 IUIs before moving on to IVF, only to discover that she was dealing with Empty Follicle Syndrome. In all my travels through the infertility blogosphere, I've never heard of this before. From our conversations via email, I get the distinct impression that she doesn't have much of a community. While I may eventually share my blog with her, I'd be interested to find some other blogs of women who have dealt with a situation similar to hers (this Empty Follicle thing that I know nothing about). Anyone know anything about this, or know anyone who's dealt with it? Honestly, the way she describes it, it sounds sort of like premature ovarian failure (she had 18 follicles and got 3 eggs), but she says it's something different (it probably is, but I'm just trying to fit this in to what I already know, I guess).
Anyhow, any suggestions or information would be appreciated!
Otherwise, see you on the flip side, people!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Preg-zilla
It may have been a while since I said it, but have I mentioned how much I HATE working? I know, I know. People have to do far worse things to get by in this world, but I'm really, REALLY not one of those people who is jazzed about my "career", whose identity is tied up in any way with my occupation. Why is it that one of the first things we ask someone we've just met is, "What do you do?", as though that can really tell us more about a person? I mean, with the exception of those individuals for whom their occupation is their life, why would we count this as a "get to know you" question?? It's especially irritating to answer that question when you're not working by choice. These days, that just does not compute with most people. You mean you don't work??? WHY? Did you get laid off? Have you not been able to find a job? What do you WANT to do?
Ahem. So for those that don't know, here is what I want to do:
Nothing.
Maybe someday, I'll want to do something again. I may want to complete additional education. I may eventually find a field that revs my engine, but for now, reading and thinking and writing and maintaining my house are what I want to do. I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, so for now, that's as far as I'm willing to plan. I hear twins are kind of a lot of work. The people I work with don't really get that. Twins, people.
My co-worker (who manages our reporting application university-wide) keeps pushing me to consider coming back full-time. And I keep telling her that I'm not suited for this job, and she doesn't get it, because my skill set and my job experience both make me VERY well-suited for this job. I'm a data monkey. I know how to talk to the computer and I know how make the pretty, pretty data be lovely and accurate. But I hate it. And she has an infant and a toddler, so she knows how expensive daycare can be-- my entire salary (with maybe a couple hundred left over) would go toward childcare for two infants. If I HATE my job, and I can't afford to work, WHY would I even consider coming back full-time???
So, if you meet me, and ask me what I do and I get all huffy and tell you that I'm a homemaker, PLEASE don't ask me what I really want to do. I'm doing it already.
Anyhow, that happens to be number one on today's list.
How to piss off a pregnant lady:
1. Ask her what she wants to do for a career as if raising twins isn't enough, like she should be super-career-woman/super-mom-woman. Act sad for her when she says she wants to stay home. Pity the fact that she has to "give up" her shitty career.
2. Remark on how she's already showing. Dude. I'm not even eight weeks yet, so even if it's twins, I am NOT "showing". I'm fat because I've gained weight and because I'm still bloated from the hormone party that's going on in my abdomen due to the treatments used to conceive. And I'm gassy. And running hurts, so I'm not exercising as much. All of which are very (valid but) personal reasons for having a nice, plump Buddha belly, which means NONE of those reasons are appropriate to discuss with work acquaintances. It is none of your business, and pointing out to me EVERY. FRICKIN'. TIME. I. SEE. YOU. that I am "getting bigger" is just downright rude.
3. Drive in such a way that makes me question your intelligence and/or sanity.
A. Left turn lanes are for turning left. When making a left turn in the presence of a left turn lane, it is appropriate to move your vehicle INTO THE LEFT TURN LANE. Not halfway in. Not sort-of-maybe-thinking-about-it, two-wheels-outside-the-line in, definitely not still-in-the-moving-lane-of-traffic-blocking-all-other-traffic-from-proceeding-while-you-pull-your-head-out-of-your-ass "in", but all the way in. If you are unable to operate your vehicle in such a way as to place it between these two parallel lines, you should consider practicing a little more before actually getting on publicly maintained road space.
B. Additionally, if you also suffer from the inability to place your car between two lines when you park, because your car is too big, or because you are too lazy to try, or because you are mentally or visually or physically unable to place your car between two lines, you should consider buying a much smaller car, and you should not be surprised to come back to your vehicle to find that a rageful pregnant lady has scratched the word "fucker" onto your side panel with her key.
C. Also, if you intend to change lanes, you should 1)make sure that you have room to do so (and NOT flip me off for honking at you when there isn't room to do so), and 2)actually complete a full change from one lane to the other. I know we'd all love to take our halves down the middle, but that's not the way civilized driving works.
D. Lastly, if you really, really need to go 25 miles under the speed limit, as is your prerogative to do unless otherwise posted, please move your car toward the right or at the very least, create a spacing situation where others who want to (gasp!) drive closer to the posted limits can pass you in order to do so. Ooh. One more...
E. HANG. UP. YOUR. CELL. PHONE. I don't care if you think you drive just fine while talking on the phone, you DON'T. You really, really don't. Yes, even you. You don't, I promise, and you don't realize it, because you're not paying attention. If you were paying enough attention to notice how recklessly you drive while having a conversation with someone who is not in the car, you would NEVER drive while taking a call again. But you don't notice it, because your phone call is distracting you. Period. Not only is it against the law here in NC, but it's dangerous and rude to that person you just accidentally cut off because you were jabbering away on your phone. I work hard to make sure I operate my vehicle in a safe way. I shouldn't have to do all of my own thinking plus the thinking for you, too, just to get home safely with my car intact.
4. Patronize her, as though she can't think clearly because she's knocked up. Yes, there are times when I get a bit of preggo brain (a slightly floaty and not altogether unpleasant sensation), where the words are on the tip of my tongue and I can't quite get them out, or I have trouble completing a sentence, but I am not stupid. As a matter of fact, even in my preggo-brain state, I'm still far more intelligent, educated, experienced, and articulate than you are, Rude Co-worker. Do not try to put words in my mouth or pretend that you've "got [me] covered" when you don't know the first lick about what I do. Do not try to filter my conversations with people requesting information from me. You don't get enough information and you don't get the right information, and I end up looking like a picky brat for contacting them AGAIN to get the information I need to do my job. You are not helping things in the slightest, and by acting as though I'm pregnant and therefore incapable of making a phone call is just baloney.
Um, that's enough Rage-o-hol for today. What are your pet peeves, pregnant or not? Did things get under your skin more while you were doing hormone-based treatments or when you were pregnant? How do you manage to keep yourself calm (pregnant or not, trying or not, during treatments or not-- just general tools for keeping oneself sane in the face of other's insanity)?
I'm thinking I really need to look into starting a prenatal yoga class when I'm back from the holidays, because I'm not managing the stress very well, and I need to find something active to do that doesn't jostle the enormo-boobs or the currently-delicate ovaries... running is my calming drug of choice (after giant glasses of red zinfandel, which is not on the menu right now for obvious reasons...), and that's out of the question for the time being due to the whole bouncing and the respiratory crap ravaging my lungs. Even walking gets me out of breath... sad. My allergies and asthma have definitely gotten worse, and I'm kind of worried about keeping myself active (as much as reasonably possible for a twin pregnancy-- not that I expect much!) through this pregnancy, when the first trimester already has me gasping for breath. I keep thinking swimming, but I don't have a membership to a pool. I did some gardening this weekend (YES! After three years of planning to, I finally planted bulbs at the right time of year!), but soon enough, it will be far too cold to do that, not to mention being the complete wrong season for planting anything and fall yard maintenance is pretty much done. So. Calming, relaxing exercise/movement, appropriate for someone who would prefer to be kickboxing but can't because of boob/belly/lung reasons. Any ideas?
Lastly, I GET TO SEE (the unsinkable) KARA (mcgee) THIS WEEKEND! YAAAAY! I'm flying to San Diego on Thursday, because H has a conference there. I'm so glad to be headed to the land of perpetual summer, but mostly, I'm beyond excited to get to meet my lovely, lovely friend, Kara. We've been bloggy buddies for a long time, and this particular conference-cum-meetup has been on the calendar for almost a year. I'm thrilled the time has finally arrived! Yay!!! Anyone else in the SD-area who wants to connect, let me know, and I'll see if we can work it out. But above everything, YAY FOR MEETING KARA!!! Expect tons of pictures, maybe even a few from the road while there, but mostly, I just want to soak up as much of the sunshine as possible and relax as much as possible.
Ahem. So for those that don't know, here is what I want to do:
Nothing.
Maybe someday, I'll want to do something again. I may want to complete additional education. I may eventually find a field that revs my engine, but for now, reading and thinking and writing and maintaining my house are what I want to do. I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, so for now, that's as far as I'm willing to plan. I hear twins are kind of a lot of work. The people I work with don't really get that. Twins, people.
My co-worker (who manages our reporting application university-wide) keeps pushing me to consider coming back full-time. And I keep telling her that I'm not suited for this job, and she doesn't get it, because my skill set and my job experience both make me VERY well-suited for this job. I'm a data monkey. I know how to talk to the computer and I know how make the pretty, pretty data be lovely and accurate. But I hate it. And she has an infant and a toddler, so she knows how expensive daycare can be-- my entire salary (with maybe a couple hundred left over) would go toward childcare for two infants. If I HATE my job, and I can't afford to work, WHY would I even consider coming back full-time???
So, if you meet me, and ask me what I do and I get all huffy and tell you that I'm a homemaker, PLEASE don't ask me what I really want to do. I'm doing it already.
Anyhow, that happens to be number one on today's list.
How to piss off a pregnant lady:
1. Ask her what she wants to do for a career as if raising twins isn't enough, like she should be super-career-woman/super-mom-woman. Act sad for her when she says she wants to stay home. Pity the fact that she has to "give up" her shitty career.
2. Remark on how she's already showing. Dude. I'm not even eight weeks yet, so even if it's twins, I am NOT "showing". I'm fat because I've gained weight and because I'm still bloated from the hormone party that's going on in my abdomen due to the treatments used to conceive. And I'm gassy. And running hurts, so I'm not exercising as much. All of which are very (valid but) personal reasons for having a nice, plump Buddha belly, which means NONE of those reasons are appropriate to discuss with work acquaintances. It is none of your business, and pointing out to me EVERY. FRICKIN'. TIME. I. SEE. YOU. that I am "getting bigger" is just downright rude.
3. Drive in such a way that makes me question your intelligence and/or sanity.
A. Left turn lanes are for turning left. When making a left turn in the presence of a left turn lane, it is appropriate to move your vehicle INTO THE LEFT TURN LANE. Not halfway in. Not sort-of-maybe-thinking-about-it, two-wheels-outside-the-line in, definitely not still-in-the-moving-lane-of-traffic-blocking-all-other-traffic-from-proceeding-while-you-pull-your-head-out-of-your-ass "in", but all the way in. If you are unable to operate your vehicle in such a way as to place it between these two parallel lines, you should consider practicing a little more before actually getting on publicly maintained road space.
B. Additionally, if you also suffer from the inability to place your car between two lines when you park, because your car is too big, or because you are too lazy to try, or because you are mentally or visually or physically unable to place your car between two lines, you should consider buying a much smaller car, and you should not be surprised to come back to your vehicle to find that a rageful pregnant lady has scratched the word "fucker" onto your side panel with her key.
C. Also, if you intend to change lanes, you should 1)make sure that you have room to do so (and NOT flip me off for honking at you when there isn't room to do so), and 2)actually complete a full change from one lane to the other. I know we'd all love to take our halves down the middle, but that's not the way civilized driving works.
D. Lastly, if you really, really need to go 25 miles under the speed limit, as is your prerogative to do unless otherwise posted, please move your car toward the right or at the very least, create a spacing situation where others who want to (gasp!) drive closer to the posted limits can pass you in order to do so. Ooh. One more...
E. HANG. UP. YOUR. CELL. PHONE. I don't care if you think you drive just fine while talking on the phone, you DON'T. You really, really don't. Yes, even you. You don't, I promise, and you don't realize it, because you're not paying attention. If you were paying enough attention to notice how recklessly you drive while having a conversation with someone who is not in the car, you would NEVER drive while taking a call again. But you don't notice it, because your phone call is distracting you. Period. Not only is it against the law here in NC, but it's dangerous and rude to that person you just accidentally cut off because you were jabbering away on your phone. I work hard to make sure I operate my vehicle in a safe way. I shouldn't have to do all of my own thinking plus the thinking for you, too, just to get home safely with my car intact.
4. Patronize her, as though she can't think clearly because she's knocked up. Yes, there are times when I get a bit of preggo brain (a slightly floaty and not altogether unpleasant sensation), where the words are on the tip of my tongue and I can't quite get them out, or I have trouble completing a sentence, but I am not stupid. As a matter of fact, even in my preggo-brain state, I'm still far more intelligent, educated, experienced, and articulate than you are, Rude Co-worker. Do not try to put words in my mouth or pretend that you've "got [me] covered" when you don't know the first lick about what I do. Do not try to filter my conversations with people requesting information from me. You don't get enough information and you don't get the right information, and I end up looking like a picky brat for contacting them AGAIN to get the information I need to do my job. You are not helping things in the slightest, and by acting as though I'm pregnant and therefore incapable of making a phone call is just baloney.
Um, that's enough Rage-o-hol for today. What are your pet peeves, pregnant or not? Did things get under your skin more while you were doing hormone-based treatments or when you were pregnant? How do you manage to keep yourself calm (pregnant or not, trying or not, during treatments or not-- just general tools for keeping oneself sane in the face of other's insanity)?
I'm thinking I really need to look into starting a prenatal yoga class when I'm back from the holidays, because I'm not managing the stress very well, and I need to find something active to do that doesn't jostle the enormo-boobs or the currently-delicate ovaries... running is my calming drug of choice (after giant glasses of red zinfandel, which is not on the menu right now for obvious reasons...), and that's out of the question for the time being due to the whole bouncing and the respiratory crap ravaging my lungs. Even walking gets me out of breath... sad. My allergies and asthma have definitely gotten worse, and I'm kind of worried about keeping myself active (as much as reasonably possible for a twin pregnancy-- not that I expect much!) through this pregnancy, when the first trimester already has me gasping for breath. I keep thinking swimming, but I don't have a membership to a pool. I did some gardening this weekend (YES! After three years of planning to, I finally planted bulbs at the right time of year!), but soon enough, it will be far too cold to do that, not to mention being the complete wrong season for planting anything and fall yard maintenance is pretty much done. So. Calming, relaxing exercise/movement, appropriate for someone who would prefer to be kickboxing but can't because of boob/belly/lung reasons. Any ideas?
Lastly, I GET TO SEE (the unsinkable) KARA (mcgee) THIS WEEKEND! YAAAAY! I'm flying to San Diego on Thursday, because H has a conference there. I'm so glad to be headed to the land of perpetual summer, but mostly, I'm beyond excited to get to meet my lovely, lovely friend, Kara. We've been bloggy buddies for a long time, and this particular conference-cum-meetup has been on the calendar for almost a year. I'm thrilled the time has finally arrived! Yay!!! Anyone else in the SD-area who wants to connect, let me know, and I'll see if we can work it out. But above everything, YAY FOR MEETING KARA!!! Expect tons of pictures, maybe even a few from the road while there, but mostly, I just want to soak up as much of the sunshine as possible and relax as much as possible.
Friday, November 13, 2009
*sniiiiiiiiiff*
So, what's worse than early pregnancy fatigue? Early pregnancy fatigue combined with a wicked cold, knocking down my already-somewhat-compromised immune system.
Monday when I went to the doctor, I felt pretty icky. Sore throat, raw sinuses, etc. But I started to feel a bit better through the rest of the week, even though the sinuses started to feel a little pressure. Feeling better and better all along, until last night, when the cold came back with a vengeance. My head is full of snot and my throat is raw, yet coated in such a way that I have almost no voice. I'm starting to cough, and there's literally nothing I can do to relieve the symptoms. I know I can take Tylenol, but I don't have any sort of fever, and while my body is sort-of achy, it's not really a bothersome symptom compared to the rest of it.
Steam, salt water, warm compresses-- these are for normal colds. This is a preggo cold, and this cold laughs at my moist advances. Ricola, my drug of choice for most throat issues, seems to work a bit, but the relief is temporary, and I don't know how many more herb-candies I can eat before I start barfing them back up.
I'm pretty convinced (and I've told H so, though he disagrees) that the advancing German army in my uterus is trying to kill me from the inside by knocking me down with fatigue and then leaving major holes in my immune system. He thinks they're all sweet and innocent and stuff, but these are MY kids we're talking about. They're crafty mo-fos, I'm sure, who are right now giggling over how easy it is to f*ck with their mother. Why, oh, why couldn't they be like their sweet, compliant father, just for a little while???
So. It looks like my best option at this point is to lay in bed and moan. I'm out of ginger ale, so it'll be plain water andcrusts of bread okay, grocery-store-bakery muffin for me while I attempt to hydrate and feed myself through this stupid cold.
Most disappointingly, I was due to have JJ and Mook over for dinner tonight, but I'll have to postpone, lest I give them this disease, or worse yet, pass it off through them to the sweet O-man. Sad.
So now, I'll retire to bed with my moaning and my plain water and no meds and no company to look forward to, and watch Charmed reruns until I fall back asleep.
*sniff*
What's on your agenda this weekend?
Monday when I went to the doctor, I felt pretty icky. Sore throat, raw sinuses, etc. But I started to feel a bit better through the rest of the week, even though the sinuses started to feel a little pressure. Feeling better and better all along, until last night, when the cold came back with a vengeance. My head is full of snot and my throat is raw, yet coated in such a way that I have almost no voice. I'm starting to cough, and there's literally nothing I can do to relieve the symptoms. I know I can take Tylenol, but I don't have any sort of fever, and while my body is sort-of achy, it's not really a bothersome symptom compared to the rest of it.
Steam, salt water, warm compresses-- these are for normal colds. This is a preggo cold, and this cold laughs at my moist advances. Ricola, my drug of choice for most throat issues, seems to work a bit, but the relief is temporary, and I don't know how many more herb-candies I can eat before I start barfing them back up.
I'm pretty convinced (and I've told H so, though he disagrees) that the advancing German army in my uterus is trying to kill me from the inside by knocking me down with fatigue and then leaving major holes in my immune system. He thinks they're all sweet and innocent and stuff, but these are MY kids we're talking about. They're crafty mo-fos, I'm sure, who are right now giggling over how easy it is to f*ck with their mother. Why, oh, why couldn't they be like their sweet, compliant father, just for a little while???
So. It looks like my best option at this point is to lay in bed and moan. I'm out of ginger ale, so it'll be plain water and
Most disappointingly, I was due to have JJ and Mook over for dinner tonight, but I'll have to postpone, lest I give them this disease, or worse yet, pass it off through them to the sweet O-man. Sad.
So now, I'll retire to bed with my moaning and my plain water and no meds and no company to look forward to, and watch Charmed reruns until I fall back asleep.
*sniff*
What's on your agenda this weekend?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Heartbeat...s
Thank you, everyone, for your advice regarding OBs (I still can't type that without thinking of tiny tampons...). Shortly after I posted, it occurred to me that the receptionist at my RE's office might know of some options, so I called her and she shared a few names with me. I had gotten recommendations from my RE previously, but he rattled off, like, 10 names to me shortly after I walked out of my first ultrasound when I was a little dazed at having seen two sacs and had nothing to write on and also was trying to absorb all of the prescription medication changes he was making, and instructions on how to use the new progesterone, and who I needed to talk to next, etc., so I clearly don't remember most of what he said. I did remember a few names, because at that point, I was thinking that I wanted to go with a doctor who practiced with the same hospital with which my GP is affiliated. But then, I found out that EVERYONE delivers at the hospital with which my GP is associated, so no matter which hospital group you're associated with, when it comes to obstetrics in this area, you're technically associated with both hospitals, so it doesn't really matter. Second, I also wanted to get my GP's recommendations, because I love her, and she knows me as a patient, and she has never disappointed me with a referral. So I asked for some from her, found the point at which her list and my RE's list matched and then went from there. Which would be the point at which I met disappointment.
So, again, I spoke with the receptionist yesterday and she suggested (duh) that I consider going through the local university practice, since they are technically the same practice group as my RE's office, and thus, they see a lot of IVF patients. So I called their practice (amylynn- I think Dr. Fernandez practices there, if I've got my groups right), and they got me in for a new patient appointment in two weeks, which I think is more than acceptable. At their clinic, apparently you see the nurse on the first appointment, and given your specific circumstances and desires regarding care and delivery, etc., they suggest doctors in their practice which suit your desires. And that sounds pretty practical to me.
Of course, I cannot see the OB until I am released from my RE's care.
So good thing I went in this morning to see this:
Sparkle, aka Baby A
Flicker, aka Baby B
So yes, for those of you playing along, Flicker decided to pony up and grow a little, catching up almost completely to Sparkle. Both little things were on their best German compliant behavior and let us get an excellent look at their heartbeats (120 and 140, respectively, though apparently that's a normal variation at this stage), and a crown to rump length measurement and a perfect view of their yolk sacs and fetal poles. Which means, barring tragedy (knocking on all wood in a 10 ft radius), it's officially two.
Fuuuuuuuugh.
Two hearts. Two babies. Oh, my.
So, that's what's up in my world. Six weeks, six days today.
Symptom watch finds me with some increasing boob tenderness (actually, to be precise, it's nipple/aureola tenderness, where if I roll the wrong way and put pressure on my boobs the wrong way, it feels like someone is jabbing a knitting needle through the center of my boob. Bizarre.), continued exhaustion, typical moodiness, continued smell aversion, a desire to eat all kinds of really bad food (the blander, the better- buttered parsley noodles for dinner last night with steamed squash- delish, but not very flavorful, mashed potatoes, applesauce, etc.), and what I think was my first hint of morning sickness, though in my case, it would actually be three-a.m.-wake-you-up-feeling-barfy sickness, to be specific. It went away after I ate a mini multigrain rice cake thing (the closest I could find to a cracker at three a.m.), and came back after the whole 5-ish calories was digested, but by that point, I was too out of it to go back for more, so I just suffered through till I fell asleep thirty minutes later. But today, it's just been a really growly stomach all day, and occasional uprisings of the ever-growing question mark in my belly. So, still mostly okay, still hanging in there. Considering that I've got an advancing German army in my uterus (and if you know the reputation of German invaders, they aren't the "leave only footprints, take only memories" kind of invaders... they're more the trash-and-conquer types...), or, as Rachel so quaintly put it, an "entire German squash team in there" (which led to an interesting discussion on the way to the doctor's office today-- are there really only two members of a squash team? Are there less in German squash? Or is it a universal sport? Who knows?)-- um, yeah, considering all of that, I think I feel pretty darn good.
Two. Holy McMoly. There are really, truly two extra hearts beating inside me...
.
So, again, I spoke with the receptionist yesterday and she suggested (duh) that I consider going through the local university practice, since they are technically the same practice group as my RE's office, and thus, they see a lot of IVF patients. So I called their practice (amylynn- I think Dr. Fernandez practices there, if I've got my groups right), and they got me in for a new patient appointment in two weeks, which I think is more than acceptable. At their clinic, apparently you see the nurse on the first appointment, and given your specific circumstances and desires regarding care and delivery, etc., they suggest doctors in their practice which suit your desires. And that sounds pretty practical to me.
Of course, I cannot see the OB until I am released from my RE's care.
So good thing I went in this morning to see this:
Sparkle, aka Baby A
Flicker, aka Baby B
So yes, for those of you playing along, Flicker decided to pony up and grow a little, catching up almost completely to Sparkle. Both little things were on their best German compliant behavior and let us get an excellent look at their heartbeats (120 and 140, respectively, though apparently that's a normal variation at this stage), and a crown to rump length measurement and a perfect view of their yolk sacs and fetal poles. Which means, barring tragedy (knocking on all wood in a 10 ft radius), it's officially two.
Fuuuuuuuugh.
Two hearts. Two babies. Oh, my.
So, that's what's up in my world. Six weeks, six days today.
Symptom watch finds me with some increasing boob tenderness (actually, to be precise, it's nipple/aureola tenderness, where if I roll the wrong way and put pressure on my boobs the wrong way, it feels like someone is jabbing a knitting needle through the center of my boob. Bizarre.), continued exhaustion, typical moodiness, continued smell aversion, a desire to eat all kinds of really bad food (the blander, the better- buttered parsley noodles for dinner last night with steamed squash- delish, but not very flavorful, mashed potatoes, applesauce, etc.), and what I think was my first hint of morning sickness, though in my case, it would actually be three-a.m.-wake-you-up-feeling-barfy sickness, to be specific. It went away after I ate a mini multigrain rice cake thing (the closest I could find to a cracker at three a.m.), and came back after the whole 5-ish calories was digested, but by that point, I was too out of it to go back for more, so I just suffered through till I fell asleep thirty minutes later. But today, it's just been a really growly stomach all day, and occasional uprisings of the ever-growing question mark in my belly. So, still mostly okay, still hanging in there. Considering that I've got an advancing German army in my uterus (and if you know the reputation of German invaders, they aren't the "leave only footprints, take only memories" kind of invaders... they're more the trash-and-conquer types...), or, as Rachel so quaintly put it, an "entire German squash team in there" (which led to an interesting discussion on the way to the doctor's office today-- are there really only two members of a squash team? Are there less in German squash? Or is it a universal sport? Who knows?)-- um, yeah, considering all of that, I think I feel pretty darn good.
Two. Holy McMoly. There are really, truly two extra hearts beating inside me...
.
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