Chicks Dig Me

Every once in a while you have to buy something totally ridiculous. We found this at Babies R Us. It takes on a whole new meaning when the kid has two moms. I just wish it had 'the' at the beginning.

The Tiredness Hits Again

M. and I have been granted a snow day by the paranoid folk of Seattle. Thanks Seattle!

The extreme tiredness is back. Maybe even worse than before. Considering that I started the BP med a week ago, I'm positive that's the reason I can barely handle a couple hours upright before it's back to the couch. It's very VERY frustrating. And it's making work very difficult. Luckily I have two more shifts then another five day break.

The good news? Well, my BP is down to NORMAL. Woot!

And more good news...I've been ruled out for genetic hypercoagulation, meaning my blood clot in 2001 was just a plain ol' blood clot. It also means that we won't have to move my care over to a perinatoligist and I won't have to give myself shots in the belly.

Midwife Appointment

Our Monday appointment was so-so. This time we got the Substitute Midwife who passed me off to the on call Personality of a Dead Fish Midwife when I dared request to get a final answer regarding the clotting issues. We're halfway through a pregnancy and my body could potentially clot and KILL our baby. I want answers, people.

We'd already been warned about Dead Fish Midwife, but she was a breath of fresh air (ha ha) after Subsitute Midwife, whose only answer regarding most of our questions was that we should ask the doctor. She couldn't even read a urinalysis. Then Dead Fish Midwife treated me like a CRAZY CRAZY PATIENT when I informed her that as long as the pregancy is progressing well and the baby is safe, I have every intention of refusing the 39 week induction that they recommend for preggos with hypertension. She said:

Well, you always have the right to refuse treatment but then we might consider you medically unstable.

In her mind I'd be a medical risk to myself and the baby just because I may not listen to and obey every thing she says.

The worst, worst part? This conversation came up in the context of how we'd like to avoid a c-section.

Me: We plan to do everything we can to avoid a c-section.
Dead Fish: ::long blank stare:: Well, you do know that you'll be induced at 39 weeks because of the hyptension, don't you?

I never said anything about induction. Clearly Dead Fish sees a connection between induction and c-section. With her attitude, I might as well schedule my c-section now. At least that way we could make sure Dead Fish wouldn't be the on call midwife that day.

We're trying a Friday appointment next. The midwives work different days, so Friday may bode well for getting a different, better experience. There's not much use getting too upset because this is our only option if we want to be managed by a midwife and not a doc.

Mommy Warning System Version 6.1

Pregnancy is such a strange experience. All of the sudden your body and your responses to the world are completely different than they used to be.

Lately it seems that my Flight or Fight response is in overdrive. I sense DANGER all around me. The worst is in the car. Every time I get into the car I get this overwhelming feeling that there is something wrong with it. As we drive down the road I listen for any little strange knock, tick or jerk. The freeway is especially bad. I scan the horizon for breaklights and tell M. when I see them...RED LIGHTS! It's gotten to the point that I can't even drive because I spend the whole time gripping the steering wheel like my life depends on it. There is never enough space between us and the car in front of us, M. never slows down enough, and I spend entire car trips gasping and sucking my teeth.

WHAT THE FUCK?

The worst part? I've always been the mostly fearless one in the relationship and here I am paralyzed by fear even when the person I trust the most in the world to keep me and the little boy safe is at the wheel. It's horrible to feel that controlled by your hormones and by the need to protect this baby you haven't even met yet.

Yes, my Mommy Warning System is in full gear. I can't even imagine how bad it will be when The Unnamed One arrives and we have to deal with the millions of very real threats he faces.

Body Pillow Advice Needed

Okay, so I spent the entire night being more uncomfortable than I've been this entire pregnancy. I've been sleeping with a pillow between my knees and that's worked so far, but suddenly my hips are ACHING. I feel like I can't spend more than a half hour or so on one side before I need to flip. I'm not having too many problems lying on my back...yet...but I feel it's not 100% safe to spend a lot of time on my back.

All of this is has me contimplating the body pillow. Which is why I need some help from people who are going through or have been through this.

1. There's the Snoogle...that funky curled pillow that's supposed to fit around your back. Remember, I'm a tall, fat girl and I'm concerned it may not fit.
2. There's the straight body pillow that would let me hug it and support my knees...but no belly support when I get bigger.
3. There's the underneath pillow that supports the belly and back...but no knee support and no hugger.
   

HELP! I want to make the right decision and not end up with a body pillow collection.

Another Thanksgiving Come and Gone

Next year we'll have a little boy to take care of. M. and I have wanted kids for at least twelve years but it still feels strange to realize that we have a finite amount of time before we are never alone again and we become PARENTS.

Announcing the Sex

We had dinner with both sets of parents, my brother and my Fake Grandma Tony (don't ask) and decided to hold a drawing and whoever pulled his/her name from our ziplock baggie would get to tell the family the sex of the baby.

But first we asked the room for a show of hands. How many thought a girl? Dead silence. Everyone is staring at us. Finally M.'s dad slowly puts his hand up.

And it wasn't only our family. Jessica thought it would be a boy. BFF KK thought it would be a boy. Could the world just pretend we had a chance at a girl?

The Hypertension Saga Continues

I was talking to my MIL and mom about how happy M. and I are with our care at Big Hospital of Interventions, especially around my hypertension. I told them that we hadn't known that 25% of women with hypertension early in pregnancy will convert to PIH.

My mother pipes up...One out of four, that's not bad! Look at the good side, the odds are with you!

WTF?

You see, my mother is the eternal polyanna. Her version of managing my stress is pretending that nothing bad can or will happen. Which is why she's trying to convince me that having a 25% chance of having PIH isn't a BAD thing. Ha! The point of me telling them was that with medication my chances go down to 6%, a much more comfortable level of risk. And that we weren't being managed under our other midwife, which would mean I'd spend an entire pregnancy with a 25% chance, NOT a comfortable level of risk.

Naming the Boy

The family is very anxious about what we're going to name our child. We actually had a unplanned naming session after Thanksgiving dinner. M. and I are being solid that NO ONE will know the name until the baby arrives or even our short list. Firstly, we're not really ready to settle on any name for The Unnamed One. We both feel this is a very serious task and want to give it a respectful amount of time. Second, we want to have something about this pregnancy of our own.

In the meantime the family is living in mortal fear of the name being something completely off the wall. This from people who named me SACHA in 1971.

Luckily, both sets of parents settled on a name THEY all approve of that contains a family name from both sides. Sigh.

Happy Thanksgiving from babycakes

U.S. Thanksgiving, that is!

Boy Moms and Blood Pressure

If I look back at how my GUT has been feeling, I knew we were going to have a boy. A girl always felt like such a remote possibility but I wanted to hang onto it as long as possible. It's not that I would be devestated about having a boy. It's just that I'm a girl, M. is a girl, and we UNDERSTAND girl things (or at least we think we do). Without any prior experience, a girl just seems simpler.

We're going to be boy moms. I'm already working on adjusting. No amazing dollhouses. Trucks. Cars. Planes. Boy things.

The ultrasound was really funny. They did the shot of the bottom to check his little legs and I saw it just hanging out there...THE PENIS. No question, he's a boy.

The good things: boys love their moms; there are pretty much ZERO boy clothes we really want to buy (they all seem to have either a sports theme or a dog on them); we've eliminated half our potential names; our stroller is very BOY; things just seem a little easier when we think about boy things.

The strange: both M. and I come from families where the oldest children are girls. We're going to have an oldest boy; saying 'he' instead of 'it'.

The unbearable: my dad and brother are going to be freakin' annoying and will want to tattoo him. Uh huh.

Answers to questions...no, we didn't get a video. Yes we have names picked out but no, we're not sharing. M. and I need to keep some things to ourselves.

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Blood Pressure

I had my appointment at the hypertension clinic yesterday. Once again my BP was in the 140's over 80's. Except for after the appointment when I was waiting to talk to the doc, I measured 118/69. WTF???

Anyhoo, I'm on a vasodilator. Compazine. We should know in a week if it's working. The most important thing is to keep the little man inside as long as possible.

Help us Pick Nursery Fabric!

We've narrowed our fabric selection down to three for the nursery. The first is one that is more babyish and would work for a second baby. The other two are much more BOY and more modern. Our nursery will have green or blue walls and black furniture.

What do you think? I placed a poll at the bottom.

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Woodland Creatures
Contrasting Color: Green Gingham

Blue and Green Swirls
Contrasting color: teal

Blue Dots
Contrasting Color: Solid Green or Solid Teal

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Which Fabric Should we Use for Our Crib Bedding?
	Blue Dots
	Blue and Green Swirls
	Woodland Creatures
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Opposable Thumbs and a Four Chambered Heart

M. here!

Well, we had our BIG ultrasound this morning and everything went well. Our wiggly worm was moving around so much that the tech had a hard time getting some of the measurements. But, all looked good....it looked like a BABY with a cute nose, 10 toes, 10 fingers, etc. We were relieved since we hadn't had any screening done in the first trimester.

Oh, and Sacha is no longer a Penis Free Lesbian if you know what I mean.

Toy Story

M. and I have long been determined that we will NOT be trapped into the toy game. We don't have a huge house or a lot of room for stuff. I mean, give the Unnamed One a toilet paper tube and a cardboard box, and let the baby go to town. They don't need all those toys. After all, it works for the cats.

It's an easy decision given all the plastic-ey little dolls and war toys. You can turn you back, and there's nothing to resist because there's no temptation.

Until the catalogs arrive.

You know the ones. The one's that let you know that Mothering Magazine has sold you out. They are filled with the quaint, wooden, high quality toys. They speak to the imagination. They don't market Disney or any other kids' television show.

They are the toys of dreams.

You leaf through the catalog, two or three times, wishing you could be nine years old again, and know that when YOU were a kid, you would have killed...I mean seriously possibly maimed another human being...just to have THOSE toys.

Then you look at the price. Instead of turning your dreams back to that cardboard box and toilet paper tube, you start to mentally calculate what you would have to do to get those toys. You start to imagine the look of joy on that little face. You wonder if maybe working a little overtime might let you get those beautiful toys. You start to think that THIS is what will make you a truly good parent.

All of the sudden you've become what you never wanted to be. You've become all about stuff and the baby hasn't even arrived. And it's scarey. Because this is just the beginning of all the pressure and expectations that will sit on your shoulders as a parent. You start to see that you will never be able to do enough, provide enough or be enough. There will always be something out there you can't give them.

And that's when you go back to the cardboard box and toilet paper tube. The only thing you can give that no one else can give is love and safety and support. That's better than the best toy on earth.

Gender Bender

Monday is the BIG ultrasound and we're going to find out if we're having a boy or girl.

In the meantime, we invite our readers to use all the old wives tales to GUESS the sex. M. and I present THE EVIDENCE:

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Signs and Symptoms

• sick from week 7-? Got sicker around 10 weeks and it let up a bit around 14 but she's still really sick when hungry and occasionally still all day
• Looks thinner than before pg, execpt in stomach
• Butt is rounder...used to be flat
• Started showing a bit around 12 weeks but hasn't popped as of 20 weeks
• Wanted meat early on (but was mostly veg before)
  
• Mostly great complexion with a few breakouts on the jaw line
• Very tired still (but is an RN with 12 hr shifts)
• Craved peaches and other fruit in 1st tri and loves spicy food and grapefruit now
• Carrying high? Still bigger top tummy than bottom
• Maybe started feeling baby around 13 weeks a few times, definately by 16 weeks - usually isn't too active but the other morning moved constantly.
• Coworker dangled silver chain over my belly and it swung...BACK AND FORTH (boy)
• Baby heartrates: 175 (9w 4d); 148 (13w 4d); 141-160 (17w 4d)
• Chinese gender chart says girl
• Conception timing: 1 IVI 2 nights prior to ovulation; 1 IUI day before ovulation; 1 IVI night of ovulation
  

Babies on TV

When we were consumed by TTC it seemed like there were TTC/pregnancy stories everywhere we turned. There was even a freakin' TELEVISION SHOW centered around an infertility clinic (and a really BAD show at that). TV is such a great escape and we could NEVER escape our constant failure to make baby.

Fast forward.

Now it seems there are babies everywhere. Not happy, giggling babies...babies in distress. Babies being killed. Dead babies on ultrasounds. Every concievable poor outcome of pregnancy seems to be portrayed on television. Seems Gray's Anatomy alone has a weekly Baby in Distress storyline. It's to be more acceptable to portray dead babies than it is to show people kicking puppies.

Argh.

It's not fair to the preggos out there as we sit glued to our beloved couches, our hormones gone wild, tears in our eyes as we watch the parade of dead babies. Good lord, I'd rather watch Leonardo DiCaprio go apeshit crazy in The Departed (amazing movie, BTW, but not for the faint of heart) than have to watch stories about dead babies over and over again.

Dead babies aren't much fun, no, no, no...

My Mother is Driving me CRAZY!

Somewhere in the last few months my mother has decided to forget that she's going to be the grandparent and started thinking she will be the PARENT of our baby.

Her latest was telling me that I'm 'mocking' the baby because I was joking about naming it Flagyleeza. She had NO sense of humor about the whole thing and informed me that the baby can feel my vibes.

Vibes of laughter and good humor?

I promise to mock my baby when it does something that require mocking. Okay, just kidding. At the moment its floating in amniotic fluid and likes it more when mommy laughs than when mommy is pissed at grandma.

M. and I are thinking moving to New Zealand is starting to look pretty damn good.

I thought my mother would stay at a low annoying buzz but she's not. She needs to be reminded that she is NOT this baby's parent, that we WILL make decisions she will disagree with and she must RESPECT our right to do that.

And guess how good I am at having to do things like confront my mother. TERRIBLE.

I was going to talk to her today but I'm too worn out. This weekend should be a good time. Internet support group, give me strength...and stories. I'm sure this is not an isolated experience.

My uterus is above my belly button AND our new midwives

First, thank you to everyone for such supportive comments. It's so, so, SO good to hear people's stories and experiences. Y'all have made my world seem much less dismal.

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M. and I have braved Big Hospital of Interventions and had our first appointment with Midwives-R-Us, the group that will be delivering The Unnamed One.

The downside. It's the same clinic where we had to endure Dr. Grandpa. Even worse, they put us in the same room where I had my emotional TTC breakdown AND fucking messed up our appointment. I just smiled, and kept knitting my pretty little baby blanket.

The upside? We are both REALLY HAPPY with our new situation. It's not what we planned but we really liked the midwife we met with. She spent two hours with us, answered all our questions, had the right approach and was straightforward about our situation. We even got the Penny Simpking book we've been meaning to buy for free!

Turns out Big Hospital of Interventions isn't so bad after all. Maybe only a fog of evil hangs over it instead of a dark cloud.

I realized that I'd been missing something with Sally Midwife. There were all these bad thigs floating out there. My DVT. My hypertension. But Sally Midwife never offered any solutions. M. and I felt constantly in limbo. And I felt like all the issues with my pregnancy were on my shoulders. There was just NO support. I felt so alone and helpless.

Midwives-R-Us is completely different. I have problems, they have solutions. I'm going to the hypertension clinic to be evaluated. I'll probably be put onto a beta blocker. I'm officially high risk. Well, moderate to high risk, because most likely I can still be managed by midwives. I'm not alone and I'm not helpless.

I do have to keep my urine in a jug in the fridge for twelve hours. M. is worried in her morning fog she'll mistake the jug for orange juice.

And my uterus is about an inch above my belly button. Amazing. I still can't believe there's a six or seven inch BABY somewhere in my body. It still seems so crazy.

Eeeeevil Pregnancy Hormones

The bad pregnancy hormones have been raging lately. I seem to have some sort of emotional breakdown every other day or so.

The latest was over our insurance debacle. We have no option but to change both hospitals and midwives at this point. Part of me is okay with this. I like our midwife. If you knew me in real life, you'd know that the word 'like' is akin to tepid water and a small step above dislike. I mean, she's okay. Which is why I'm not heartbroken that we have to change course.

At the same time the self blame of being labeled 'high risk' feels heavy on my shoulders. It runs through my head. I'm too fat to be pregnant. I'm not dedicated enough. I shouldn't have ever thought I deserved to be pregnant. Silly girl, who ever thought YOUR body had the stuff to incubate and nurture another life. I'm too much of a basket case, too much of a stress case and simply NOT GOOD ENOUGH to do this.

Those are the bad hormones talking. I mean BAD BAD hormones. They make me cry and feel inadequate. I feel alone.

Things feel okay today. If there's one thing I can do, it's fight. Which is why I'm taking steps to manage my stress and working on ways to keep me from becoming truly high risk instead of perceived as high risk.

Being pregnant is hard. Society makes it look like some blissful, glowing experience. I want to glow, damn it. I don't want to have to spend my every moment trying to keep my heart and soul above water.

Wah. Need hug. Need that glow. Need those good hormones people tell me about.

My uterus hurts when I sneeze

It's a strange thing that as I get bigger I'm starting to constantly feel my uterus. When I bend down, I feel it. When I twist and turn, I feel it. When I sneeze, I feel it. I mean, OW!

No one tells you that being pregnant leaves you with a tender tummy. Mine doesn't really like being poked and prodded. It just wants to be left alone. I grin and bear it when the midwife starts poking around. Poor M. wants to poke and prod my poor tender tums, hoping to catch a little feel of the baby. All I can do is grimace. I can't even have the cat on my tums.

Then there's the pressure. A couple times a day the baby decides to attempt crawling out my belly button. Beth suggested we place tape over it to keep the Unnamed One in. He he.

That's life with an enlarged uterus. There's another being the size of a small zucchini somehwhere in my abdomen and I'm still not entirely sure where it is. It's all very strange.

I Voted!

Some people have the world series or the superbowl or the olympics. Me? I have Election Night. Get out the fancy snacks and gather 'round the TV for a night of gazing at Tim Russert's white board and listening to NPR commentary.

The past years have meant crushing defeat as the night ends. But I still go back, still get excited, because it's about the process and the very idea that voting might WORK. It's the hope that our voice, the voice of the people, might still matter.

As I type this, in the very least, the dems have taken back the house. The senate is still in play. People are PISSED about the war. I wonder where they were two years ago, or four years ago, but if this is how it comes down, fine with me. Finally there is the possibility that someone will be held accountable for the actions of the previous six years.

Happy election night, all.

And happy it is.

Learning to Float

Seattle is floating. It's been five days of steady downpour and M. and I are starting to climb the walls just a bit. You know when you watch those shows that are purportadly set in Seattle and they show 'Seattle Rain', this heavy, horrid downpour? Well, folks, that's a hose. Seattle rain is more like long gray days of constant drizzle. Normally. At this moment, we have the hose and we're both wondering when the house will start becoming a house boat.

How do you have a good time?

Well, you make friends on the internet, they come to visit and you spend two days hanging out with them and enjoying their company, all the while apologizing for the HORRIBLE weather. I mean, it's REALLY not like this.

Beth and Rose came to visit and BAMF has met The Unnamed One. We have the pictures to prove it. It was The Unnamed One's very first in-utero meeting. The six of us had a GRAND time. We lurve them.

We finally have a day just together. Yay. Time to hole up in the house, listen to the rain, bake pumpkin bread and just be together. My favorite thing in the entire world.

Adoption Stuff

Now that we are actually pregnant, it's time to think about the adoption.

M. has contacted Lawyer Lisa and confirmed that we can have DtD sign the paperwork prior to birth. Actually, he can sign the paperwork any time, then has 48 hours after the birth to reconsider.

Now we're trying to decide the WHEN part.

M. is of the 0pinion we should have him sign ASAP. She doesn't want him to see me all big and pregnant before he signs.

I want to wait until the third trimester or closer to the birth. My thinking is that the earlier he signs the more time he has to sit around and think about what he's doing and what he's given up.

We both know he won't be seeing the wee babe for that 48 hours.

Opinions? Has anyone who went to term with a KD been through this? When did you sign the paperwork?

Religion in the Workplace

Nursing wasn't my first job. I worked for ten years in the for-profit coorporate world prior to becoming an RN. But I never ran into what has been bothering me lately.

Overt religious speak in the workplace.

This isn't Utah. It's Seattle. I mean, we are far from church-going as a population. But somehow all these fundy christians ended up working on the floor I work on. And that's really okay. I would never disparage people of faith. I respect that people have something that important in their lives that gives them strength and comfort.

Where my respect ends is when their faith starts to invade my life.

I'm sitting in the break room today eating my lunch and one RN who is particularly bad starts religiously counseling a colleague, reading outloud from the bible and carrying on. This is the same person who brings her bible every day and leaves it on the break room table instead of in her bag. She's also the one who has said incredibly offensive things about queers (my word, not hers), Jewish people, Italians, Filipinos and pretty much anyone NOT like her.

I just think I should be able to eat my lunch without having to listen to a crazy christian missive on faith. If she wants to counsel other people, go to the cafeteria, or the hallway, or outside...anywhere away from me.

M. says I should say something. She's right. I'm chicken. The RN has been on my floor pretty much her entire career. I just think she needs to keep her religion at home and her bible in her bag and talk about the weather, like the rest of us.