Uppercase Woman

Annoyed

Those last trimester hormones are really flying around these parts. Everything is annoying me.

Customers wanting to shop in my store while I'm trying to eat lunch? Rude and annoying. Don't they know I'm gestating here and need to eat?

The city we no longer live in demanding Charlie pay $1100 in "business privilege tax" to cover this year and next year? Damn fucking annoying, and should be illegal.

Hip pain? Annoying and painful.

Weather warming up and making my fingers puffy? Annoying and alarming, since puffy hands=preeclampsia symptom (don't worry, all is well).

To top it off, I just burped up a completely undigested bit of bell pepper from my lunch two hours ago.

Grrrrrrr.

So, how are you?

So Much Better; Oh, and some outrage

Ah, today is a new day. First off, I slept for nearly twelve hours.

Twelve. Hours.

Ahhhhhh....

Hammer, The Best Dog Ever™ had another rough night with more fussing and shaking, but came into bed with me early this morning and relaxed for several hours. He seems much less sore today, and he even attempted some "sillies" (his morning "sillies" are when he comes on the people bed, we scratch his butt, and he rolls around on his back and tries to bite his feet. It's so cute you could die) although they were half-hearted at best. He's not painful to the touch today, so that's good. I found a little patch of swelling on his hip, and I'm wondering now if he was bitten by a bee or something and that's the cause. Dunno. Will keep an eye on it, and take him to Marty, The Best Vet Ever™ if need be.

My hip pain is actually a tad bit better today, probably because of all the sleep. I've also stopped allowing myself to do the "pregnancy waddle" and that actually helps a lot.

Dr. Mama, The Best Obstetrician Ever™ was kind enough to call and check on me last night. LOVE HIM. He said there's not much to do about the hip pain and admits he's not surprised I have it. He's bothered by my blood pressure, but not alarmed. Said that it could be common, and we're only catching it because of our hyper-monitoring at home. I also started taking a calcium/magnesium/zinc supplement because that is supposed to help. We'll have to see; my reading was pretty good this morning, so maybe it's already helping. Who knows?

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It was like Christmas at my house this morning. Have I told you all how much I love you all?

Eeyore arrived today, complete with his button-on tail (how could I have forgotten the button-on tail?) Pooh (sent by Amy) is thrilled to have a friend, even if Eeyore can be kind of a downer sometimes. I gave Eeyore lots of hugs even though he didn't see the point. Thanks, Lisa and Mike!

Wendy was kind enough to pass on a fabulous Classic Pooh Mobile. It's unbelievably adorable, and something about it made the baby seem more real somehow (as well as made me think, OH MY GOD I MUST START WORKING ON THE NURSERY). I love it. Check out Wendy's blogs here and here (two blogs, woman? I can barely keep up with one!). Thanks so much Wendy!

Lastly, someone was nice enough to send me a three-pack of baby-related books. Amazon sent them completely anonymously, so perhaps you prefer to stay anonymous. But if not, please email me and let me know who you are. And thank you!

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Hey, it's time to be outraged!

First off, if you haven't seen this article about abortion in El Salvador, go read it now. This is what happens when abortion becomes completely illegal no matter what. Women with tubes bursting from ectopic pregnancies because doctors aren't allowed to treat them until the fetus dies (doesn't that mean that more babies won't be born in the long run? Or is it just me?); women putting pesticide in their vaginas and then claiming suicide so they won't get THIRTY YEARS in prison for trying to abort a fetus; oh, and don't forget the FORENSIC VAGINA EXPERTS.

Prepare to be horrified.

Oh, and on a more-close-to-home note, some pharmacists are now refusing to fill prescriptions for antibiotics--if they come from an abortion clinic. NICE. Much better to let those murdering bitches die of infection. Right? How very Christian of them. Bastards. Thanks to Bitch PhD for the link.

Ug

I'm cranky today. I slept for about two whole hours last night; between the baby kicking, the dog wandering around the bedroom like a ghost all night long, and my hip pain, well, it was a rotten night.

Plus I just found out that our friend Gilbert died back in January and no one told us.

Gilbert was a guy we saw around the poetry circuit quite a bit and hung out with a lot. He and Charlie got along really well, and he was always full of really funny stories. He stopped hanging around us after we quit drinking; the last time we saw him was about two years ago. He looked puffy and bloated, but that's not uncommon in us heavy drinkers.

He didn't mention that he'd been diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Apparently, he was misdiagnosed for quite a while before someone finally caught it. As a result, he died painfully, with his last year spent in bed. His wife took care of him until the end.

He did, apparently, manage to do a lot of the things he wanted to do before he died. He traveled, made peace with his family, important things like that.

Sigh. I wish we'd known. Rest in peace, Gilbert.

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Hammer, The Best Dog Ever™, was not living up to his name last night. He wouldn't stay in his rock star dog bed (you know, the one with a mattress AND box spring) for some reason, and he kept wandering around the bedroom. We just washed the bedcover the other day, and it always takes him a while to get the bed back into the appropriate shape, so I thought that was what was going on. But he started shaking badly, so I took him outside to see if he needed to go to the bathroom. He seemed fine, so we came back upstairs and I tried to get him to get in our bed to see if he would settle down then. He wouldn't jump. I should have known then something was up. I ended up going into the guest room to read so I wouldn't keep Charlie up any more (it was clear at that point I wasn't going to sleep again). When I went to check on Hammer after the sun was up, he was back in his bed and shivering terribly. I brought him into the guest room with me, and he got on that bed (it's just a mattress on the floor) and I covered him up and held him and he started to calm down. Charlie came to bed with us and Hammer seemed quite content for about an hour. Until I shifted my position and he whimpered in pain.

I immediately tried to examine him, but he became completely stoic and wouldn't tell me specificaly what hurt. We laid back down for a while again and when we finally got up I tried to do his "sillies" with him, but when I scratched his butt he cried out again. Of course, again, examining him shows nothing. It's those damn pit bull genes that make him so stoic.

It does appear that he's favoring either his right hip or his right knee. I'm afraid he may have ruptured his cruciate again (he tore up one of his knees a few years ago and had to have surgery. I don't know whether this is the same knee or not).

Sigh.

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There's something I should have been thinking about instead of whining about my pregnancy...

Art-Sweet sent me an email about the latest legislative horror, and I was going to write about it, but blessedly Julie did it for me. So, what she said.

Check it out.

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As I was watching TV the other night, I saw for the bazillionith time the lastest JC Penney and Old Navy clothing ads for women for spring and summer fashion.

Is it just me, but is everyone dressing like deranged gypsies?

28 Weeks *whine*

Wow. Here we are, still pregnant, at 28 weeks.

According to this, the baby now has eyelashes, weighs about 2.5 lbs and is about 15 inches long and is beginning to develop subcutaneous fat. All good.

Me, I'm not doing quite as well as I'd like. My blood pressure has become rather "labile" which is a fancy way of saying unstable. I get good readings, I get bad readings. My blood pressure medicine, even on the higher dose, is simply not holding my pressure down steadily anymore.

BUT I have no other preeclampsia signs. No protein in my urine at all, no bloating in my ankles/hands/feet at all (in fact, I'm still wearing the same shoes. And my rings, most days) or any of the other symptoms of preeclampsia. Nothing like that.

Whew.

But other stuff is happening. I awoke this morning with some pain in my pubic bone, so now I'm all worried about symphis pubis dysfunction*. It's not severe, by any means, but it's new and it's uncomfortable.

I'm also rather worried about the fact that this baby is supposed to gain five pounds in the next few weeks. I'm so huge! Arg! Already I have trouble standing for more than a few minutes (walking is better than standing, but even that gets hard). I often find myself doing some of the exercises in my prenatal yoga tape trying to get the baby to move to a more comfortable position. I have lots of pressure going on down there.

I started to feel the baby kicking up high in the last few days, near my ribs.

Yesterday I got dizzy while singing in the choir. Apparently, I no longer have the lung capacity to hold a note for eight counts. And I just got my voice back too.

How do you women do this? Cause I feel like a big whiny wimp already.

I'm terribly grateful to have gotten this far (please don't think I'm not), but I'm terrified of everything that lies ahead. Getting even bigger, the birth itself, everything.

I really want to be able to work for the next five weeks--then the semester will be over at the college I work for, all the big events will be done and commencement will happen. Then I can come home and lie around like a slug for the rest of the pregnancy. But I'm worried about the blood pressure...

I stopped taking the acid-reflux medicine because I was worried that it was preventing my blood pressure medicine from being absorbed. No, I didn't ask my doctor about that, why?

Sigh.

I'm already at home most of the day; I only have to be at work four or five hours at a time. I can do this. Right?

Next ultrasound and OB appointment is a week from today.  I won't be seeing Dr. Mama; because the noble doc is going to be in Africa repairing fistulas in the women there (like the doctor in this article). 

Yes, he is a saint.

We'll see what they say. Meanwhile, I'll wait and worry. I have lots to distract myself with; poems to review (I'm an associate editor for a local literary magazine), bothering Sarah** about my baby shower (it's just that I'm the event planner in our little circle--I can't seem to keep my nose out of it), hugging Pooh, and starting to think about getting the baby's room ready. Oh, and gardening (don't worry--I won't do any heavy lifting or any gardening really, I'll just pick the plants and tell Charlie where they go).

*squaring shoulders*

It's all going to be fine. I'll make it.

Right?

*I just had to tell you, Typepad's spell check attempted to change "symphis" to "nymphos." *snort*

**Sarah has asked me to tell you all, once again, to contact her if you want to participate in an on-line shower for us. Don't feel pressured--I love you all no matter what--but she made me remind you. Seriously, she's standing here with a gun. Heh.

After

Yesterday was an interesting day. First off, on Tuesday, the baby moved pretty much non-stop for about 12 hours.

Yes, that's right, 12 hours. I mentioned this to Charlie (go read the story Charlie linked to today--all I can say is OH MY GOD), offhandedly, and he suggested I google it. Dr. Google had mixed things to say; some said, "hey, it's normal", while others said "the baby is in it's death throes!" So we called the emergency line. No one called us back. But the baby stopped moving as soon as I laid down; heartrate was fine, so we weren't too worried (although we were annoyed that no one called us back).

Then yesterday I had a little blood pressure spike in the morning (141/89 then 133/110). I was only slightly alarmed, but Charlie was pretty freaked out. So we called again. As we waited to hear back from the nurse, we took my pressure again, and it was down to a lovely 122/81. Dr. Mama called us later and felt that it was probably not a big deal, but to try to stay off my feet and keep a close eye on it.

It wasn't until later in the day while I was instant messaging with Sarah that I remembered what may have caused the little blood pressure spike. Without imparting too much information, let's just say that perhaps when one has pregnancy-induced hypertension and one is in one's last trimester of pregnancy that perhaps one should keep one's hands off oneself no matter how sexy that dream was right before one woke up.

Ahem.

So anyway, I forgot to mention in my 27-week update that I am now officially in the third trimester (I feel like there should be a parade). Honestly, this is a town I thought I'd never visit. And right now I feel like a tourist.

More and more these days I find that my thoughts turn to what is going to happen after I have the baby. One of the things I think about a great deal is how excited I am to have some small bit of control over my physical body again. Oh, I know, with breastfeeding I will still be a boob slave, but that's fine. What I hope I won't still be is someone who is full of food-aversions (even though morning sickness has long passed, I still can't eat about two thirds of the foods I love--like, say, vegetables). I'd also like to stop being someone who has some form of food and/or exercise restrictions and is under some sort of hormonal manipulation by outside forces.

I've mentioned before how eager I am to get back in shape. For me that primarily involves walking and hiking. God, I've missed the woods! This is the first year I didn't hike in early spring and watch the earliest of the spring blossoms emerge from the snow (like my old favorite, skunk cabbage--a "flower" so warm it literally melts the snow around it). As soon as I feel physically able, I plan to start dragging my fat ass around the block (baby in tow, of course) and begin re-building my stamina. I can't wait to stand without hip pain! To be able to go up the stairs without getting out of breath!

I know many of you have found it a challenge to undergo a fitness regime after having a baby, and perhaps that will be true for me as well (although all of you mention that you are able to take walks). I'm trying to not have unreasonable expectations, but I really hope to be able to at least walk on a daily basis.

As I've mentioned before, I do NOT plan to diet after I have the baby. I'd like to get back to eating more things like fruits and veggies (actually, fruit just became tolerable again to me this week--I've been averse to that as well since about six weeks pregnant--and I enjoyed an entire pound of strawberries the other day. Yummy). I'd like to see my diet be 80-90% whole--meaning whole grains, lean meats, fruits, veggies, etc.

But I will never again return to being that person at the birthday party quivering with anxiety because of the presence of the birthday cake. I'm so done giving that damn pile of sugar so much power over me. Deprivation drives me crazy; it both fuels a secret desire in me to punish myself as well as well as induces a deep feeling of resentment. From now on, I'm just going to have a piece of the fucking cake if I want it.

Since this has been on my mind lately, reading this fascinating post about the fact that diets don't work in the long term has added significant fuel to my fire. Check it out. It really cemented my determination to make changes that are not "diet" related, but self-loving instead. And top of that list is accepting myself as I am.

The light at the end of the tunnel is visible, my friends. And I can't wait to stand in the sun.

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I have some folks to thank (most of them don't have blogs, sadly. If I'm wrong about that, let me know, and I'll post the link!). I may have already mentioned some of these folks, but my pregnant brain isn't sure so I'm just gonna cover everyone again.

First off, Donna was kind enough to send me a huge box of maternity clothes that are totally saving my ass. Plus they make me look really pregnant. Heh. Thank you so much!

Abigail sent me the coolest thing--a belly bra--which really helps eliminate the strain on my hips. Thank you!

Jessica* was kind enough send me a used (but software updated) laptop. Yeah, I can't believe it either. Thank you!

Robin* was nice enough to send me a copy of The Whole Pregnancy Handbook--which she co-wrote--and I'm totally loving it. It's really awesome! Check it out if you haven't already.

Danielle* was the sneaky devil that found my registry and sent something before Sarah established ground rules about all that. Thank you! The hamper is a perfect color match to the walls in the soon-to-be baby's room!

Amy* found the Target registry and sent me the baby a stuffed Classic Pooh. Yes, Pooh himself. I can't stop hugging him! Super soft and cuddly. Thank you!

I just wanted to acknowledge you all publically. Thank you again! Your generosity overwhelmes me...

*Could you all email me and send me your addresses? Somehow either the packing slips got mangled or it didn't have your address or I'm a lame ass and lost it (probably filed it and I'll find it in two years). I want to send a note!

Miracles

This morning as Charlie drove me into work (oh yes, I am spoiled), we were discussing the pregnancy and expressing our mutual relief at having made it this far. We both feel good about how things are going, and feel pretty darn sure that this time we are going to come home with a baby.

We talked for a while about the risks of delivering early, and we are both looking forward to crossing the 28 week mark, as we know that babies born after 28 weeks do remarkably better than babies born in the earliest stages of viability at 24-27 weeks. We are both holding out for 32 weeks, but we also think that there is actually a chance that we’ll make it full-term.

Six or eight weeks ago, our fears were entirely focused on getting to viability. It felt like a battle, and our insufficient weapons were small things like Ketone strips and blood pressure machines (Charlie follows me around the house wielding the BP machine quite often). Now that we’ve gotten this far, our fears have turned from losing the baby to fears about actually having a baby. Fears that are quite different.

The biggest thing we both feel is this absolutely tremendous relief that very soon we will be off the fucking roller coaster of infertility. It’s been four years—more than some and less than others—but damn if I don’t want off. I never EVER want to go through anything like the last four years again.

Charlie called this period a “bizarre limbo state” and that’s really what it’s like. It’s limbo with constant upswings of hope and downswings of grief and loss. It’s like treading water and almost drowning on a monthly basis.

I am so done with that shit.

It hasn’t been a complete waste of time, however. Early in recovery, I remember being the most impressed by the people who were suffering through horrible things but kept showing up at meetings anyway. Like Albert, the absolutely hilarious flaming gay man that chaired a meeting two weeks before he died of AIDS. He could barely hold himself upright, but he was there, giving back what was given to him. Or the woman whose son killed himself who came to a meeting and cried every day for months about it. These people kept me coming back and made me believe that it was possible to not drink or use drugs a day at a time NO MATTER WHAT.

Oddly enough, I have become one of those people. When I spoke at a meeting a couple weeks back, someone afterwards said how happy he was to finally hear my story because so many people have told him they’ve come to believe in sobriety after watching me stay sober through the loss of our sons. You could have knocked me over with a snotty and tear-stained kleenex when I heard that. It’s amazing to think that even at the height of our grief, Charlie and I were still helping people. I feel so touched and honored by that.

My spiritual angst over the loss of the boys has proven to be important as well. Without it, I would have never found my little church. At the start of Lent, my pastor asked me to “bear witness” about how addiction is similar to what Jesus experienced while being lost in the wilderness. It was a fascinating writing experiment for me, and I enjoyed presenting my thoughts to the congregation. I mentioned that I’d be willing to speak to anyone about addiction and alcoholism afterwards, and several church members approached me and shared their experiences.

But the most touching moment came when a member asked if I’d be willing to speak with her ten-year-old daughter, T. T’s biological mother is currently in prison for issues related to her addiction to crack (T’s mom, the church member, has legal custody but can’t officially adopt her because the bio mother won’t surrender her rights). T had a lot of questions about the nature of addiction that her mom didn’t feel qualified to answer. So T and I sat down and spoke for about a half-hour over chocolate cake. Talk about humbling; nothing like having a ten-year-old ask, “Why does my biological mom smoke crack?” How grateful I am to feel like I have a tiny piece of the answer for her. I told T that we addicts and alcoholics have something inside us that is broken; that when we have a drink or a drug we can’t stop because the broken thing inside us only feels fixed when we are drunk or high. That being sober and clean feels like wearing our skin inside out. That it isn’t because we don’t love the people in our lives, it’s that the addiction is more powerful than we are. T listened carefully, asked lots of great questions, and seemed to relax a little with each of my answers.

I swear to you it was worth every minute of pain and spiritual agony I suffered to be able to spend a half hour helping this girl. Really. I would have never been there to help if I hadn’t lost the boys. How amazing is that?

Miracles like that aside, however, we will not be doing this again. If we decide we want another child, we will probably pursue foster-to-adoption with an older child. Even if something awful happens to this baby (frantically knocking on wood), I’m done with the infertility roller coaster. No more.

But anyway…on a totally different note… how cool is this onesie (thanks to Cara at Urban Baby Runway for the link)? Gotta get me one of those.

27 Weeks! And, the most boring post EVER

27 weeks. And one day.

Each week that passes that I'm still pregnant I find myself shaking my head in disbelief.

I am no more than 11.5 weeks from having a BABY, people.

I suddenly feel a tad panicky--stuff to do! Rooms to set up! Etc, etc...

I did indulge one nesting thing this weekend. We have an old glider--really old--on our front porch. It's iron (yes, really) and as long as a regular couch (about 64"). We inherited it from a neighbor; he was a very bad drunk and passed away in his sleep one night and his sister was going to throw it away. We asked if we could have it, and she said that was fine.

It didn't have any cushions to speak of--the ones that were there I so didn't want to use (Jack, the neighbor, passed out on them a lot). So it sat, cushion-less, on the porch until I happened to catch a show on one of those tiny cable channels about making cushions for old lawn furniture. I'm sure you all know how to do it--buy a board (cut to fit, obviously), buy some foam, wrap it in fabric and staple gun the fabric to the board and there you have it--a new cushion (I'm not a particularly crafty person, so that was big for me).

So I made a cushion for the bottom part, and used some crappy pre-made cushions for the back. That lasted about two years, but now it's all faded and gross, so we went ahead and re-covered the bottom and made cushions for the back for a mere $200 (why the fuck is 4" foam so fucking expensive? $40 a yard???).

And here it is:

Sorry about the crappy photo, it's with my camera phone (I promise we'll get a good digital camera when we have the baby--I swear). And I know I didn't pull the bottom fabric tight enough; I'll fix it soon...

So. That little project took half my weekend, and then I worked the other half.

Most boring post EVER.

Today I'm seeing my general practitioner because I  cannot shake this cold/laryngitis thing. It's pissing me off. I don't know what the deal is.

Um, other than that, let's see: baby is doing well. Blood pressure back to normal with the new higher dose of meds. Stretch marks I already have are being really, um, stretched. Especially right below my boobs. Dr. Mama said I can skip my two-hour glucose screening since I've doing morning fasting glucose levels every day and they've been normal. Next ultrasound is two weeks from today.

I'm tired, folks. I'm gonna go lie down. Sorry to be so dull. I'll write something fascinating tomorrow, I promise...