What's Bowel without Bladder?

I've been chugging the H2O all day long, which has brought forth another new experience. Seems the little boy likes to take a quick turn in my belly and whammo! Sacha all of the sudden has to pee.

He's definately getting bigger.

The mall went a little like this...

1. Arrive at Nordstrom ... head immediately for the bathroom ... pee.
2. Check out the sale racks at Gymboree ... find a million cute clothes all on sale (have you seen their sales racks? It's like thrift store shopping) ... OH MY GOD I have to PEE ... the urge passes ... confuse the poor salesgirl about the concept of the two moms ... leave.
3. Stop at the Apple Store to pick up a new keyboard ... be mocked by snotty sales person because we want a wired keyboard (we have a desktop that never moves, shithead) ... OH MY GOD I have to PEE ... luckily the urge passes again.
4. Go to The Childrens Place. Luckily, did not feel like I have to pee. Find nothing we needed.
5. Go to Gap Kids. Wonder why anyone would pay $29.00 for tiny pants. Bitch about their crap ass sale prices. Still don't have to pee.
6. Back to Nordstom ... OH MY GOD I have to PEE ... I barely manage to waddle to the bathroom again.
7. Go home.
   

At least I know I'm not in any danger of a bladder infection.

A Near-Birth Experience

Before anyone becomes concerned, The Unnamed One is snug in my uterus and perfectly happy. His mama is another story.

M. and I are back from our annual vaca to the mountains with my 'rents. A couple hours after arriving at the condo, the power went out and didn't come back on for about twenty four hours. Vacation is NO FUN in the cold and the dark.

Here's the really fun part...and for the squemish, I suggest you don't read futher because this could officially be considered TMI!

I had the joy of awful, awful pregnancy induced constipation during our trip. I'm not talking about a small amount of difficulty but over and HOUR of difficulty which was horridly painful. M. coached me through it with labor techniques she's been reading about (he he) and we have christened the event...Birthing the Poo.

I can't help but laugh, but it was SOOOOOOOO AWFUL. I was seriously considering going to the hospital but it was too far and they would have laughed at me.

Only two weeks ago I was gleefully telling my accupuncturist that I have had NO problems with constipation. I'm actually quite regular. Until now. Good lord, did I have to have just about the worst constipation experience on the planet to knock me off my high horse?

I'm all about water and high fiber cereal from now on. No more near birth experiences.

Winter Break for Babycakes

Happy Holidays

Whatever your flavor or non flavor may be.

From S&M!

The Good Stuff

There's been so much crap lately, it's time to talk about some of the good stuff.

1. M. Can't get better than that. Could I ask for a better person to share my life with? I don't think so. How in the hell did I stumble across this?
   
2. DtD. He's just a really good guy. He gave us a very nice Christmas present and a note that said "thanks for being there". Silly boy. He owes us nothing...no gift, no nice note. He helped us get our little boy, the one kicking me in the stomach at the moment. If anything, we owe him a lifetime of cat sitting.
   
3. Having good coworkers. They put up with me crying in the breakroom. They put up with those days when I can barely handle moving.
   
4. Pets. Talk about unconditional love. That's exactly what you get from your pets. Everytime I walk in the house and the girls swarm around my feet, they make me happy.
5. Best friends. Our best friend has been in our lives for a long, long time. She's been in M.'s life since she was about five. She's there for us.
   
6. Good family. Family is tough and complicated, but they love you. It's good to be loved.
   

All of this makes nasty medwives and stupid doctors seem not so bad.

The Baby Factory Magical Mystery Tour

I'm going to call Bigger Hospital of Interventions what it really is: The Baby Factory. If we could seriously consider The Baby Factory it would open up a lot more options for us.

This is why when I called them yesterday and found out they had a tour of their birthing suites starting at 7:00 pm I busted my ass to get out of work early enough to be able to take it. I'm really glad we did because it reinforced that The Baby Factory is not going to be a workable solution for what we want.

Firstly, the tour guide had the personality of a wet mop and the attitude that The Baby Factory was going to grace us with its superior medical care. At one point, after she had gone over the important point of how you can move the bed up and down, complete with demonstration, I had the audacity to raise my hand and ask an actual important question...do they have telemetry so a woman in labor isn't trapped in the bed? She snapped at me that she was "getting to that".

Clearly questions aren't really allowed at The Baby Factory. But I can handle bad attitudes. That wasn't the breaking point.

Then someone asked if they would have to have an IV. Her answer was that you certainly could refuse one but you would be harassed and pressured if you made that choice about your care. She said you COULD have your doctor write an order for no IV, but it was a nursing decision and they like IVs. She then went on a diatribe about all the reasons you would want an IV.

Again, I can handle this. I'm a fucking NURSE , after all, and I love IVs myself. In a hospital the worst thing that can happen is to have a patient crash and have no access.

What about eating, I piped up when it was indicated questions would be allowed. Well, they don't really allow it. If you have anything beyond a birth with absolutely ZERO interventions, you will be on ice chips only and maybe some gummy bears, "if you get lucky". Then the tour leader launced into another lecture about how women in labor really won't want to eat anyway.

Ooooookay...still not the end of the world.

What did it? They don't allow you to bring in a labor tub. That might be okay if you weren't a big girl and if their jacuzzi tubs weren't too small for you. As a matter of fact, when I asked the question, the leader scoffed at the concept and announced to the group that no one in the area that SHE knows of allows outside labor tubs. I mean, what IDIOT would want some woo woo concept like a fucking labor tub? Really? I immediately piped up that they certainly do at Big Hospital of Interventions and M. then added that they are also allowed at HMO Up the Hill.

So The Baby Factory is out. I feel if we went there we would be making a decision that would mean that we would definately have the interventions we're attempting to avoid. We'll get good prenatal care no matter where we go, and I feel that Big Hospital if Interventions is going a very good job managing my hypertension well.

And the cherry on top of the sundae? I called Big Hospital at 10:30 last night, directly to labor and delivery. I talked to a very nice nurse who confirmed that YES, they do allow labor tubs, that I will be able to eat unless I get an epidural and even with an epidural, it will be clear liquids and not only ice chips. A much, much better experience compared to The Baby Factory.

Being Kicked in the (Figurative) Gut...

It sucks to get crapp ass news when you think finally everything is okay.

So we're sitting in the exam room after my BP testing waiting to talk to the MD when one of the midwives comes in and introduces herself. I knew the moment she walked in that it wasn't going to be good news. She proceeds to tell us that the group has discussed my DVT history and determined that they will not be able to manage my care.

I've been kicked out.

I hate it when people give you bad news then say they're "sorry". They're not sorry. If they were sorry, a different decision would have been made. It's one thing to apologize for the inconvienence, for stringing us along for fucking FIVE weeks, to acknowlege that this is difficult to hear. Just don't sit there, stare at me and say "I'm sorry" over and over again. You're not fucking SORRY.

I asked the midwife to leave the room.

Seems the decision to drop me was made on Thursday. Instead of calling us, telling us the news and giving us some time to digest and make different plans, they waited to tell me in person on Tuesday. Instead of telling me when I could have coped in the privacy of my own home, when I actually had TIME to deal with this, when I wasn't going back to work the next day, they waited to give me the privledge of having them kick me in the gut in person.

Thanks. A lot.

The really horrible thing is that I was going to go to the appointment without M. She was supposed to work and it was ONLY a hypertension appointment. I was feeling nervous about it the night before and mentioned it, so she insisted on going with me. I'm so glad she was there because I think I would have just walked out.

I was upfront from the beginning about the DVT history. I knew it could make me too high risk to be managed by midwives. At every step I was lead to believe that if I ruled out for know hypercoagulation disorders I would be able to stay in the group. And yes, I ruled out. If they had been professional and made a decision in a timely manner, they would be a blip on my radar screen. Instead we're having to change my care again. I'll probably be in the third tri by the time we find a doc that works for us. This is not only unfair but fucking ridiculous. At every turn I've had my power as a patient taken away.

God dammit, it took so long to get here and now I just want us to be pregnant and happy, and every time I turn around someone hurts us.

We're trying to figure out what to do. The holidays don't make things any better.

We can go to a recommended OBGYN who would think my DVT history is "no big deal". This would keep us at Big Hospital of Interventions, which I feel okay about. What I don't like is that she's at the same clinic and I'm so PISSED right now that I can't stomach the idea of going back there.

All our other options would mean changing to Even Bigger Hospital of Interventions. We have to decide how important the actual delivery is, or should we be focused on getting prenatal care where we're comfortable and respected. If we go with Bigger Hospital, we may talk to our family practice MD, Dr. G. We know we'll be respected if we use her. We also have some recs for OBGYNs that other people love.

All this just takes more time and costs us more money.

If you've made it this far down my story, here's the question. What's more important, feeling respected and listened to during prenatal care or making a decision on where to deliver that MAY lead to reduced interventions?

The Baby Sucked Out My Brain!

M. and I were in the car a few days ago listening to NPR and an article came on about the brain and pregnancy. Here is what we learned:

• A woman's brain will shrink 8% during pregnancy.
• It won't return to normal until six months post partum.
• After our brains grow back, we actually emerge SMARTER.
  

Yikes.

During our first trimester I was a bit of an airhead. I had no idea. The real forgetfulness didn't kick in until the second tri.

Pregnancy brain is much more than simple airheadedness. I absolutely can't remember a damn thing. I've started repeating things I need to remember over and over until I actually do them. I'm not surprised a pregnant woman's brain shrinks. I've never experienced anything like my sieve brain in my life. And I'm someone who relies heavily on her memory. It's all about the brain rewiring for motherhood.

At least I'll be smarter. Ha ha. Watch out world.

Survivor...Seattle Style

We have been in Seattle for twelve years now and I've never seen a winter THIS bad. We had 70 mph wind gusts overnight and 48 sustained. M. and I were seriously worried one of the giant conifers in our back yard would land on our bed. Did this keep us from sleeping in it? No. Nevermind that we could have moved to the hid-a-bed in the living room. Not SO smart sometimes.

This morning we woke to find one of our parking strip trees had fallen onto our fence. Power is out all over the city. Everywhere I go people are out, stocking up of food and ice, etc.... There was a run on muffins at our fave chichi market. Traffic was backing up into McDonald's parking lots and there were long lines at the gas stations. Most businesses were closed with no electricity.

It's CRAZINESS.

One of our bridges, i.e. mainlines to the eastside suburbs, is shut down. There was flash flooding IN THE CITY. M. was stuck in the rain and traffic last night with intersections and highways shut down from water on the roadway. The picture? She was there!

And after all that, you can't believe what a beautiful day it is now.

More Kicks

I was lying in bed last night when the little boy started kicking away. I put my hand on my tummy and felt a good kick, so I called M. in since she's been dying to feel him. He proceeded to do several kicks and turns, making me totally crack up.

Exactly WHAT is he doing in there?

This of course kept M. from feeling him because my tummy was shaking from laughter. Then The Unnamed One decided to stop giving us a show and settled down to sleep.

Everyone says how fabu it is to feel the baby move inside you. For me I just feel like there are all these strange gut rumbles and bumps going on. It's cool but still so different. I absolutely LOVE feeling him kick from the outside. I love that M. gets to share the experience and that he gets to connect with the outside. It's just about my favorite thing EVER.

I think it connects to all my Pregnant Fat Girl issues. It's so exciting to feel him from the outside because I have always worried with all my abdominal fat that I wouldn't. But I do!

I actually made dinner last night...

Not only did I actually make dinner, I actually enjoyed making dinner. And it wasn't something simple like spaghetti or cheese sammies. No, it was MANICOTTI. Multiple step really bad for you cheesy not-so-breezy manicotti. Now I'm eagerly awaiting Friday when I plan to make a winter squash galette with a yeasted tart dough. Yes, YEASTED. Truthfully, anything yeasted may be pushing things a bit.

I'm wondering if the GOOD hormones may be kicking in. Despite an almost daily bout of mild nausea, usually from being too hungry, I'm finally feeling damn good.

It figures I'd be late on getting the good stuff. After all, I had almost daily nausea until fucking twenty weeks. I've been a bit late on pretty much everything. I just hope this holds into the third tri and I don't come crashing down as of January.

M. read Where the Wild Things Are to The Unnamed one last night. I can't wait until he can actually see the pictures.

Carseat Craziness

We've been mulling the carseat lately. The plan is to put the carseat in sometime in Feb. That way we're ready to go if The Unnamed One arrives early. Also, my mum is behaving herself and has offered to pay for our infant carseat. Very cool.

It's funny because we have what might be the most unsafe car on the market. We knew that when we bought it, but it was what we could afford and it had four doors. This means we need a VERY safe carseat. Little boy will be a lot safer than his mommies at this point.

It's been an amazingly difficult decision. The Graco Snugride gets good ratings. Then we looked at the Graco Safeseat because it can hold up to 30 lobs. Then we switched to the Britax Companion after a friend had a friend killed after being t-boned by a Suburban and her 2.5 month old daughter has severe brain damage. All of the sudden it became important to have THE safest seat on the market, so Britax it was.

Then it's the convertibles. Britax again, but it may not actually fit in our crap-ass car. We've gone from car seat to needing a new car by the time The Unnamed One is six months old.

Yikes.

Yet another one of the bajillion decisions that have to be made. It took some time but I think we've made a really good decision.

Sleep tight, blogosphere. Time to spend time with my wife.

Baby Clothes Hell

M. and I have become baby clothes shopaholics, especially if they're at the thrift store or on the sales rack. So far The Unnamed One is a well dressed little boy. All this baby clothes shopping has made me notice certain trends about little boy clothes.

Dogs are for boys and cats are for girls. This explains a lot about the number of cats M. and I have. After all, we're GIRLS. Clearly we were programmed from birth to like CATS. This early programming does nothing to explain the Dog Lesbians in this world.

Boys like sports but girls don't. I can't tell you how many tiny blue stretchies and onesies have some sports paraphernalia applique on them, usually football or baseball. You know, the MANLY sports. This regularly makes M. go red in the face and mutter about how much she hates sports. Girls don't get the sports crap at all. Obviously girls must be sweet and love flowers, not kick ass on the basketball court. Do we need a Title 9 for baby clothes now?

Clothing with words on them. This is my favorite, and it's universal. Finally, equality amongst the sexes. Why do most baby clothes have some sort of saying on them. So Sweet! Cutie Pie! It's as if they are guiding the world in how we should be responding to the baby.

Oh, a baby. I don't know what I should say...oh my, what should I do...I'm panicking... ::reads front of fuzzy blue onesie:: ...WHAT A...UH...CUTIE PIE!

My absolute favorite? Anything that says Baby across the front. Just in case anyone forgot what that tiny little thing is.

Or maybe in case someone said...my, what a nice pink kitten you have there.

The Kim Family

I wanted to take a break from all consuming pregnancy to talk about the Kim family. If anyone hasn't heard, they're a family that was making their way from Seattle to San Francisco and became stuck in the snow.

There's not a lot out there that really affects me. My cynical side usually takes over quickly. What happened to this family is straight forward painfully heartbreaking.

When I think about them, I think how afraid those parents must have been. I think about anyone facing the possibility of your children dying in your arms. I imagine that decision for James Kim to leave his beautiful family must have been one of the most difficult and desperate acts a person can possibly make.

I can't imagine Kati Kim's anguish.

I hate the word 'hero'. It's become overused and political, but there is no question in my mind that Kati and James Kim are heroes.

Impending Cankle

The swelling has begun.

My ankles aren't that bad. If I could lie on the couch all day they would be slender as slender could be. But I don't, and they aren't. My socks are starting to leave dents, which means that it's time for the footies or new socks.

Whaaaaaa!

I knew this day was coming but had secretly hoped that maybe I would be the one pregnant woman who could actually avoid the cankle. I imagined gracefully making my way through pregnancy with my skinny little ankles. After all, they're one of the few skinny things about me.

You see, I'm vain. Vain, vain, vain. Vain with a capital "V".

Oh well. I guess cankles will come and cankles will go. Fluid retention is part of pregnancy. It's part of my increased vascular volume. It's part of my uterus keeping my blood from making its way back up my vertical body.

Blah blah blah.

Getting My Freak Out On

Pregnancy is supposed to kick all your protective systems into gear. You develop an intense protective sense of paranoia. Your body warns you against things that could hurt the baby by heightening your sense of smell. Maybe in the days of hunter/gatherer this would have been highly useful. I'm still trying to figure out why my body decided CAT FOOD was of extreme danger all the way through the first trimester.

So WHY does pregnancy make a person prone to public crying fits and emotional overreactions? What is the benefit of me, normally strong, resiliant ME, standing in a parking lot bawling because someone stole my hat? I have absolutely no emotional reserves left and zero ability to cope. How does this help the Unnamed One? Does he really gain something from having a mother who is a complete basket case all the time?

It's a long haul to some sense of sanity. Sometimes I just feel I'm one tiny step from falling into the abyss. I'll be honest: it's hard. Maybe one of the hardest things I've ever done.

And I'll put up with it, do my best, know that this crazy, crying heap of a human being is not really ME. Because it's so amazing to feel our son move, to watch M. as she feels him kick, to imagine finally having a family.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm not eternally grateful to be where we are.

I just don't want to pretend this a cake walk.

Feeling the Kick

I've been feeling the Unnamed One move for a long time now...since about sixteen weeks, maybe earlier. It started as little muscle spasm-like feelings in my belly then moved onto flutters. Now it's mostly flutters and once in a while a full-on kick.

Poor M. She's been dying to finally feel her little boy. Every night she places her hands on my belly and tries to feel him. The ironic thing is I swear every time she touches me, he calms down.

Today she finally felt him.

We were sitting on the couch with her hand on my belly and he let loose a pretty solid kick. At that same moment M. jumped and said "ooooop!" It was him!

The nice thing? I haven't felt him kick from the outside yet. The first person he's interacted with on The Outside is M. That makes me really happy.

Belly Shot 22w0d

For some reason I think there will be this moment where I just get HUGE. I think I'll wake up one morning and be a GIGANTIC PREGGO. Although The Unnamed One is ahead in his growth, mama just doesn't seem to be ballooning out. Anyhoo, here's the 22 week belly shot. I think I'm actually starting to get bigger but it's still slow.

If you can't tell, I'm saying "Yo, baby" while I'm pointing.

And for prosperity, here's a shot of my poor little feet, way down there. Just remember that I haven't been able to look down and see my feet since about fourth grade thanks to The Girls (boobs) so it took quite a bit of bending to get this shot.

February Showers

In case you haven't seen all the tell tale signs, M. and I are UBER planners. We're planning that the baby shower should happen sometime in February, early enough that we'll know what things we'll have to buy for ourselves. The scary thing? February is VERY VERY SOON. And that means...time to get going on the shower.

M. has this vision of the shower that includes over stuffed couches and everyone gathered in a circle as we open our presents. Pretty traditional. My vision is pizza and beer in the back room of our neighborhood pizza joint. We're having a hard time reconciling the two. And considering that we're not really supposed to plan our own shower, we have a dilemma.

And who is supposed to throw the damn thing? My mom has offered but 1) doesn't live in the area, and 2) mom throwing a shower is not kosher. Jessica has offered, but doesn't want to use her house. We can't use our house...again, not kosher. And we still have BFF KK, who has not offered but we really want her involved. Then we have my MIL. She can't be shut out.

It took a village to make our boy, seems it may take a village to throw the shower as well. Goodness!

We have a few options out there still. There's a gallery in the hood that we may be able to rent out. We have a good caterer who could make a few dishes. Mom, Jess, KK, MIL could make a few more. M. has told me that I am NOT allowed to cook for the shower. Again, not kosher. I say NO FAIR.

I'm really excited about our shower, no matter how it turns out.