Nesting: The Freezer

M. is really hoping my nesting instinct kicks in soon. I think she's decided that a pregnant woman is almost as good as a housekeeper.

Anyway, I've actually cleaned the freezer. And to M.'s horror, I'm sharing my before and after pictures. On the left...before. On the right...1.5 hours later...AFTER!!!

Whoo hoo!

Painting!

After the cat boxes, the next thing we need to get done is painting our interiors. We painted our living room (orange, and yes, we still LOVE it) when we moved into our house 6+ years ago and the rest is the original dirty rental white.

That's all about to change.

M. and I can't cope with the painting we need to do. I'm exhausted and freakin' pregnant, trying to cope with twelve hour shifts for seven more weeks. She has a lot on her plate keeping the household up and getting ready for LB.

So we decided to hire a painter. That was a problem in itself because, for the life of me, I have NO IDEA where to find a painter. The only thing I had was a name from my friend Dane.

Well, I found the painter's number thanks to Qwest Dex, he responded right away this am, he came over and gave us a quote an hour and a half later. It was reasonable. He starts tomorrow. Holy shit, we have a painter.

So, the laundry room modifications are done. The cats have started USING the one catbox we moved. Our walls should be painted over the next couple weeks. I'm seeing a light at the end of the tunnel for getting ready for the little boy. It feels good.

I'll post pics as things get done.

Now time to clean out the freezer.

Teaching Old Cats New Tricks

Part of Operation Get Ready for Baby is moving the cat boxes. You see, the nursery is currently the Cat Box Room. Not gonna work when LB (little boy) arrives.

About a week ago the modifications to our enclosed back stairwell were finished so we can start moving the boxes into our new laundry room. BUT to do this, the girls have to start using our newly installed Hefty Kat cat door. Heft Kat because one of our kitties is truly hefty. She's a big, very timid girl.

So far we've taped the cat door open with duct tape and at this point everyone has used it. Tonight was our first experiment with having them go through the CLOSED cat door. It's really funny because we actually have Family Time with the cats. M. and I sit on the floor and we get out the cat toys and it doesn't take long before all four are gathered 'round us.

The picture is from our adventures tonight. Want to see more of the girls? Here's their Flickr set.

Our youngest, Zoe (seen in the foreground) took to it like a fish in water. Jump in, jump out, jump in.... Our oldest, Tamu (background) is just not so sure about the whole thing. She's smart enough to know that if she whines, the door knob will be used and she won't have to deal with all this newfangled modern stuff.

So we're officially moving the first of the boxes out there tonight and keeping the door taped open. I'm crossing my fingers we don't end up with major behavioral issues.

Cutest Baby Shoes in the World

I had planned on some long post about induction and my feelings around it. Screw that. It's time for uber cute baby boy things. Oh, I guess girl things are included too.

I found this brand of shoes in a consignment shop near our house. They are called See Kai Run. Check them out because they are really adorable.

Now, I am trying my hardest to be a practical mum. No going overboard on crappy toys. Our $5 rule has served us well in buying Baby Boy Clothes. But these shoes have officially found my weak spot.

THEY ARE SOOOOOO CUTE.

And I'm going to buy them. Okay, I'm going to buy them when he starts walking. They look to be around $39 a pair, and while that won't break the bank, it's a lot of shoes the little guy won't wear for very long.

BUT THEY ARE CUTE.

And I don't care. If momma gets nice shoes, baby boy gets nice shoes too.

Baby-Moon Come and Gone

We're back from the world's shortest baby-moon. Some people head for exotic locales, soak up the sun, travel to foreign countries (okay, we did that).... M. and I found a hotel with what has to be the most comfortable bed in the entire world.

Highlights

The bed. I mean, a huge king bed with 100% cotton sheets, down pillows (extra for the pregnant lady), a down comforter, and it was all snugglicious.

Walking. Despite my horrid cold, we walked all around Vancouver. We had a beautiful day on Saturday and spent almost the entire day on our feet, exploring different neighborhoods, enjoying being outside and being together.

Talking. It's never been a problem for us, but it was nice to just focus on each other and talk, talk, talk. The emergence of little boy is becoming increasingly real and our together time, carefully cultivated for fourteen years, is about to radically change.

Ice cream. We went to a place that had OVER 200 FLAVORS of ice cream. I mean, CRAZY. I wanted to take a picture and send it to DtD since he loves ice cream.

Thai food. Do you get the feeling we think a good vacation means eating a lot? We went to this amazing Thai restaurant that has spoiled us for all other Thai food. It's become the reason we like to go to Vancouver. Oh, now for the ice cream too.

Friends. We met up with Anne and M. and had a really good time. Who said internet relationships can't work? Next time we see them we'll be three, not two.

Little boy. He likes Vancouver. He decided to be uber active for the last couple days. I don't know if its hormones or what, but I am so completely crazy ga-ga over our little guy, it's pathetic. I utterly adore him and we haven't even met. M. is just as bad. WE LOVE OUR BOY!!!!

Now we're both sick. I'm the snot machine but have reached some sort of functional level. I may call in sick again on Weds if this crap hasn't cleared my system. Poor M. is flat on her ass on the couch and sucking down the tea/theraflu/emergen-c.

Belly Shot 30 weeks!

Well, we are 3/4 of the way to the end.

M. and I have figured out the answer to The Other Mother issue. Instead of one of us being The Other Mother, we have decided we are pod-mom and non-pod-mom. Not perfect but entertaining.

We are off on our Baby-Moon today. It consists of going to Vancouver B.C. The saddest part is that I've decided to get my yearly kick-me-in-the-arse cold just in time, which is why my hair is all fuzzled out in the pic and I look almost as tired as I do after working a twelve. Yes, missing two days of work has not resulted in my feeling better at all.

Stupid body.

K, everyone have a good weekend. babycakes will be baaaaaaaack.

Cats really do prepare you to parent!

I've always thought it was a little crazy to feel like one's cats were preparing one to parent. But I really feel that way. We have four. Before you start thinking CRAZY CAT LESBIANS, I think five would officially bring us to that point. Four is borderline, but I LOVE my kitties.

One is just a cat. She's sweet but she's the classic stand-offish, independent cat.

One is 100% our baby. We are her world and we can do no wrong. She just gazes at us with the most love, then bites us. That's when we remember that she really is a cat.

Did I say they are well-behaved? I'm afraid we've failed at being cat moms in many areas.

Another is our toddler. She constantly tests her boundaries and tries to get her way on everything.

The last is the original kitty that started all this. She's a good girl and she knows the world would be better if she had opposable thumbs.

The good thing about cats is that they stay cats. Our cat-baby will never grow up. Our cat-toddler will never stop testing us. They will also never dissappoint us, or hurt us, or tell us that they don't love us or that we should never have had them.

Little boy will and it already breaks my heart.

Breast Feeding with Rat Poison

M. and I had our visit with the perinatalogist today. It went very well. He was nice, didn't talk down to us and gave us really good information on clotting and pregnancy. He even had a matrix they use for treatment based on a major study done in 2005. Finally we get INFORMATION instead of fear...fear...fear!

Results?

There's no indication for me to be anticoagulated during pregnancy at this time. I got a copy of the doctors notes from BHOI and it turns out that they actually DID want to anticoagulate me during pregnancy. In a classic CYA move, the doc wrote that its her opinion that anticoagulation during pregnancy needs to be addressed and that I wasn't open to discussion. Remember, this conversation took place the same appointment where I was dumped by the medwives and was a complete and utter wreck. I'm glad her ass is a-okay while I was stuck in a fear spiral.

Dr. H. (for the heavenly breath of fresh air he was) said the research shows that having ruled out for genetic clotting disorders and not currently having a clot, I do not need to be anticoagulated.

I will be anticoagulated post partum. But only prophilactically. This means weekly blood draws instead of daily. And we may be able to get insurance to cover a visiting nurse. I'm okay with this. It's reasonable.

I will probably go onto coumadin. At some point couamdin was used to kill rats. Yes, it's RAT POISON. Give anyone enough coumadin and they'll hemorrhage to death. I'll be breast feeding our son while taking RAT POISON.

Despite being stuck at the Baby Factory, we feel really good about our decision to switch to our family practice doc. A better delivery experience wasn't worth having to fight every step on our way there.

The "wife"

Tomorrow we go to perinatalogist #2. In order to give him the entire picture, we picked up our a copy of a my records from BHOI so we can take them to our appointment. M. and I noted a little something interesting....

M. and I refer to each other as wife because that's what we are. Seems that's not really enough. Although we don't say "partner", in most of my records M. is referred to as partner/wife. But my most favorite of all, I mean the one that reminds me how far queers still have to go was when I saw M. referred to as "wife".

Ahem? "WIFE"

M. is not my wife because I said it. It's not quaint. We're not being cutesy. It's not a quotable moment. It's REAL. We have a REAL certificate to prove it. She is legally my wife. And while our marriage may not be recognized by our own government, that doesn't negate it.

I can't tell you how much I want to wave the shrunken copies of our LEGAL marriage certificate from Vancouver, BC at any of our next appointments. Or I could introduce M. as my wife and quickly add..."...and she's actually my legal wife, not my partner, so please just write down wife."

So we still have a ways to go, which reminds me why it's so important to use the words that reflect what we truly are to each other. WIFE. Eventually we'll get to the point that the term will be used without quotes.

Dr. Grandpa and the Volkswagon Mechanic

There's been so much to say about our provider woes lately that I haven't been able to get to some of the actually funny stuff. And what's funnier than...DR. GRANDPA????

You see, Dr. Grandpa works at BHOI which is where we first encountered his charming self. Remember, we are the MOST overwrought, anxious TTC couple he has EVER encountered. Being at BHOI meant having to occasionally see Dr. Granpa in the hallway and when we were considering using Dr. Dog Lesbian it was revealed that Dr. Grandpa could be the one DELIVERING OUR BABY.

Dr. Dog Lesbian assured us we would be safe with him. I informed her that HE may not be safe with M. We might be delivering the baby in the driveway of the emergency entrance in that situation, although M. says that wouldn't help because then Dr. Grandpa would just come outside.

Dr. Grandpa and the Volkswagon Mechanic

As we were leaving our last appointment at BHOI we ran into a colleague of M. who happens to also be a TTC lesbian. We found out that she has officially moved onto being a P lesbian (pregnant) and is expecting TWINS. Since she and her partner are having twins, they are now having to look into hospital births that they hadn't initially planned for and they have been interviewing providers. She tells us that she talked to a doc at BHOI and told him that they wanted to use a nurse midwife. He responded to the idea of midwives with the following anaology:

Why would you take your Mercedes to a Volkswagon mechanic?

I had to interrupt at this moment and ask The Question...

Was it Dr. Grandpa you were talking to?

YES!!!!!

In case you missed the anaology, Dr. Grandpa is the Mercedes mechanic and certified nurse midwives are lowly Volkswagon mechanics. Mercedes...good. Volkswagons...substandard and inferior. Mercedes...luxury. Volkswagons...the car of the common person, the mere working class, middle class soccer moms. Mercedes...good. Volkswagons...BAD BAD BAD BAD.

He he.

From my point of view, a Volkswagon is a hell of a lot better than the piece of crap we drive and I'd love to own one...actually, we are planning to buy a Volkswagon Passat wagon for our future family. And if Dr. Grandpa is an example of people who sniff down their noses as they sit in their leather seats of their Mercedes, I'll stick with my plan.

I wonder what Dr. Grandpa would call our family practice doc? A Volvo? A mere domestic?

Baby Gets Sugar

I DON'T HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES!!!

I can't tell you what a relief this is. I just wasn't ready for all the implications that a diagnosis of gestational diabetes brought with it.

Pretty much everyone at BHOI treated me like gestational diabetes was inevitable. After all, I'm fat and old so that must mean I should be expected to have GB. The MEDwives wanted to test me at 20 weeks, quite a bit earlier than necessary. I have defied them. Bwahahaha!

Then there's all the emotional baggage that comes with being a pregnant fatty. I mean tons. I had pretty much convinced myself that I deserved gestational diabetes just for being who I am. Yes, I'm not always the most emotionally stable person despite trying really hard and pregnancy hasn't been kind to my poor heart and soul.

My blood sugar an hour after the, ummmm, TASTY gunk was 83, baby! Not even borderline. Mama doesn't have to give up her sugar. The funny thing is that I've been eating borderline bad the last few days and I think it's because I was anticipating not passing the test. Now that I can, do I want to bury my head in my sugar canister? Nah. Actually some tasty baked apples sound really good right now.

Yes, Virginia, it does snow in Seattle!

Proof!

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Random Stuff. It's nice to write about random stuff since there's been so much DRAMA as of late.

We have our 28 weeks belly shots and I finally loaded them to Flickr. From 4 weeks to 28! Check it out!

It's a lazy day in theS&M household, especially since M. has a snow day.

Our Charlie's Soap arrived and M. is busily washing our prefolds. We also ordered our Fuzzi Bunz, Bum Genius and some newborn prefolds and covers. Oh, and liners for the diaper pail, and wet bags...

We're pretty much ready to diaper...just add baby.

Now time to make mac-n-cheese for dinner. Mmmmmmm.

Your Right to Refuse Care

As an RN I've explained to many, many patients that it's in their best interest to do what I'm asking them to do because of their safety. I've told them to stay in bed, take their meds, agree to procedures because our job is to keep them safe and agreeing with ME will do that.

Now I'm on the other side.

I'm starting to wonder if the pregnant women population might be the most compliant population in the medical world. It comes from the fact that pregnant women aren't sick. They are healthy patients who seek medical management for a non-medical condition. On top of this, they are having a BABY, creating a life, care taking for something that become increasingly important to keep safe. They are easy to bully.

Where the BHOI providers miscalculated is that I actually know my risks around most pregnancy complications and I don't scare that easily. I'm not going to be bullied, I'm going to be an equal participant.

When I started to question my care or to even downright refuse care, instead of being told my risks, alternatives and being respected, I became The Difficult Patient. I became "medically unstable". I was told "well, you always have the RIGHT to refuse care" but the conversation stopped there and went onto imposing FEAR, FEAR, FEAR onto my pregnany, reminding me of the worst possible outcome of my refusal.

Because in the world of obstectrics, I don't actually exist. My experience doesn't really count. It's all about our boy and his safety, which is not the wrong focus but not the right focus either.

EVERYONE HAS THE RIGHT TO REFUSE CARE.

Take it further. Refusing care doesn't mean you no longer deserve care. It doesn't mean you are subjected to bullying by your practitioner about your decision. If a practioner responds to you discussing refusing care by offering the worst case scenario in order to scare you back into their way of thinking, find a different practitioner. Refusing care means you get to have the reasonable risks of your decision explained, and a plan of care should you follow through on your decision worked out.

We always learn, even from the darkest times, I've learned a lot from my experience. It's making me a better nurse.

The Doctor Saga: Coming Full Circle

We're back to Dr. G.

It's funny because this is the second time our lives have come back around to her. She is now going to truly be our family practitioner. She will take care of me, of M., she will deliver our son and she will take care of him as well.

The appointment went well. She will take us. The only way we will be dumped at this point is if I end up with actual PIH and not just preexisting hypertension (PIH is pregnancy induced hypertension, more commonly known and preeclampsia). She is very suspicious of Dr. Dog Lesbian's desire to anti-coagulate me post partum.

Highlights?

• Dr. G. referred to me as a "healthy person" instead of the train wreck I've started to feel like.
  
• I was treated like a vaginal birth is the most logical outcome in my circumstances
• She would let us go post-date, no early induction because of hypertension
• My hypertension was treated as a common complication of pregnancy instead of pushing me into HIGH RISK
  

The best part? It was the first visit in fucking TWO months where I didn't cry. Something is wrong when a person ends up crying at all her prenatal visits. Time to re-assess the plan at that point.

The Clotting Saga

Yes, it continues. It seems to be the neverending story.

Dr. G. is going to send us to a pernatalogist for a consult regarding the clotting. I don't mind this at all, as long as my primary care isn't going through a perinatalogist. This new doc is reported to be reasonable in his approach and will meet patients where they're at with their care. Meaning if I tell him I won't be anticoagulated before or after birth, he will explain the real risks and tell me the best route to managing my pregnancy.

I'm just tired of having FEAR, FEAR, FEAR imposed onto my experience.

This means ANOTHER ultrasound on the 22nd prior to our appointment because Dr. Big Shot Perinatalogist doesn't want the one I JUST HAD at BHOI. I guess we'll see the boy again.

The best part? My father has agreed to be tested for the known genetic thrombophelias! This should finally give us some answers. Thank you papa!

Stats on The Boy

He's 2.7 pounds. That's about 2 and a half pounds of butter. He's in the 70th to 80th percentile. His head is big. He holds his foot with his hand then puts it in his mouth. He yawns. I has a very nice nose. He's still a boy.

HE'S UBER CUTE!!!

We love him.

Dr. Dog Lesbian

Yay, blogger is back up!

We went to see the new doc Tuesday. Her name is Katie but I'll call her Dr. Dog Lesbian. She looks like big ol' dyke and she has a dog.

I really, really wanted with all my heart and soul to like her. I wanted to walk out knowing that we could finish our pregnancy with her, deliver at BHOI (Big Hospital of Interventions) and have this nightmare over. It didn't work out that way.

Dr. Dog Lesbian was a total DOC. Very competent regarding my medical care with little concern for anything else, very black and white when medical care is very gray. The biggest problem...she wants to anticoagulate me for six to twelve weeks after the delivery. This requires going onto to anticoagulation meds and having to go in for blood draws daily or every other day. Not a big deal...IF YOU DON'T HAVE A NEWBORN AT HOME. The best part is that she's basing this decision not on MY history but on my FATHER'S.

The further away I got from the appointment, the worse I felt. The more I felt that my needs were drawfed by my medical issues. The more I just wanted to shove candy and anything else bad into my mouth, my favorite form of self abusive behavior. We spent yesterday, our fourteenth anniversary, in some sort of sorrow-filled fog.

So we took a walk. Nothing like a walk to clear one's head. Neither of us can take this anymore. We're tired of being hurt and angry. We're tired of crying.

We could stay at BHOI with Dr. Dog Lesbian, but I will probably refuse to be anticoagulated. This means I'll go through the stress of going up against my doctor and I'll have to expend the effort to research and defend my position. It means a fight. The thing we're losing by heading for The Baby Factory is the labor tub. And really good nurses.

What do we gain by leaving BHOI? A doctor who we really know, who has always been there for us, who wouldn't over manage us. If we HAVE to go to The Baby Factory, using a family practic doc has the best outcomes. We could relax and enjoy the rest of our pregnancy, not spend entire days crying. We could get rid of this gut level sadness that seems to have gripped us.

We've sacrificed the labor tub.

We have an appointment with Dr. G. on Friday and unless she can't manage our care, we'll move to The Baby Factory and finish the pregnancy with her. She's already told me she won't want to induce at 39 weeks. I don't think she'll want to anticoagulate me. I trust her. I know we're risking a more negative birth experience but I've decided I'll accept that based on needing some support right now.

Joining the Diaper Wars

Okay, it's not really a war.

This post is inspired by Stacey and Angele's recent angst over the cloth vs. disposable debate and my subsequent laughing at them. They have now joined the Cloth Diapering Cult.

We've been planning to cloth diaper forever-n-ever.

It started at least five years ago when M. and I cleansed the house of ALL our chemical cleaners. We switched over to using baking soda, borax, castille soap, vinegar and essential oils to keep our house clean. I make almost all our own cleaning products. It seemed like a natural step to decide to cloth diaper. If we were dedicated to using natural cleaning products then why would we ever use a diaper that was based in chemicals?

I had no idea what dark path we'd started down. M. is now obsessed with cloth diapering. Maybe the right word is addicted. Crack, heroin, meth...DIAPERS? Do dealers slip you piles of unbleached Chinese prefolds on the corner?

My head is now filled with terms like prefolds, contours, soakers, doublers, snappies, fitteds and more. M. spends my work weekends on the computer, staring at pictures of diapered babies, different covers, and folds, perusing message boards and indulging in the strange wonderful world of cloth diapering. I'm grateful that while I'm pounding the hell out of my feet and wiping ass, M. is busy watching out for The Unnamed One's wee bottom. I would never have the patience for it.

So we will cloth diaper, and wash them ourselves. It's good for him. It's good for the environment. It's makes a damn cute little baby diaper bum.

Other News

We have another ultrasound tomorrow. It's part of being on the low end of high risk. And we have our appointment with Dr. Katie. And they'll check to see how my BP is doing. It'll be a long day but we get to see our boy again.

And now it's time for a very tired Nurse Pie to get some rest.

Hey, Your Tree is on My Garage

So we thought me made it through the GIANT windstorm with minimal damage. Not so. Today the guy who owns the house next door stops by to tell us that one of our huge conifers in our backyard is now leaning on his garage.

Yikes.

And he thought we should do something about it. This is when it comes in handy to have an insurance agent for a mom and your dad as her trusty assistant. Neighbor Guy was quickly informed that it is his responsibility to get our tree off HIS garage.

I'm just glad that massive thing didn't fall on our house. And I'm not too sad to see it go. It takes over about a quarter of our yard.

I'm also really glad it fell on HIS garage.

Yoga for the Unyogable

I finally made it to prenatal yoga. And it kicked my ass.

First, I am the worlds most inflexible human being. Ironically, if I'd been doing YOGA prior to this, I probably coudn't claim that title. But I can, and holy shit, it hurts. I'm now the queen of alternative poses.

Second, fat girl yoga is no fun. I need a special fat girl prenatal class.

Will this stop me? Hell no. I'm a Taurus, after all, and if there's anthing we are it's stubborn. And pig headed. And stubborn. I spent eight years being the worst shot putter on the planet so I can handle the humilation of sucking at yoga.

I used to mock yoga and acupuncture and all the woo woo of the world. The experience of TTC, subsequently Taking Some Time to Get Pregnant and now Pregnancy itself has really helped me open up to different ideas and philosophies. It's actually kind of exciting.

Welcome to the 3rd Tri

All day yesterday I worried that I had somehow launched myself into preterm labor. I hurt all over. My abdomen kept tightening up. My pelvis hurt. My rear hurt.

Being a pregnant RN is no fun. First you spend a lot of time assessing all your s/sx until you go crazy. Then you don't feel like you can just be a neurotic pregnant woman, especially at work, because everyone will get very concerned and it's probably nothing. On top of that, you have a Strong Woman job and you just don't feel strong.

I called the L&D floor at BHOI (Big Hospital of Interventions) and talked to Very Nice Nurse Theresa who basically said I'm having normal third tri s/sx and talked me down. She also said I'm going to like Dr. Katie who we go see on Monday. I just want to have some stability.

End result? I think I may have over-fibered. Yeah.

What did I learn this morning? Beyond the fact that orange crocs are hard to find in the dark, pregnancy hurts like a mother fucker.

Welcome to the third trimester. The little boy has one more week and then he gets the honor of a 90% survival rate outside the womb. Yay! It's all downhill from here.

Belly Shot 26 Weeks!

This is a pic from our trip to the mountains. We happened to hit 26 weeks while we were there so M. made me go out in the cold..because it was so pretty...and do a belly shot. My hair is still wet from the shower...a nice treat after our electricity went off two hours after arriving and didn't come back on for over 24 hours!

I really don't feel as big as I look here.

Thursday we are officially in the third tri. Holy shit, batman! We are still in shock that we actually managed to get ourselves pregnant and he's going to be here very, very soon.

Happy 2007!

Yeah, we're a little late on this one considering that it's January 2nd. Anyhoo, best of wishes to all our readers. May your families be healthy and happy in 2007. May all who are pregnant deliever beautiful, healthy babies. May all who are trying find success.