I have no school, no job, no pressing duties, and I really don't know what to do with myself. This may be the very first time in my life where my sole responsibility is to rest, eat well, and wait. It's the road less traveled in my journey. Weird stuff.
The idea that I, like so many other first timers, will likely gestate well into the 42nd week is a bit depressing. Unwisely, I have focused on my due date of June 4th. Now I am starting to realize that I may be looking more at mid-June. Ugh...
On the bipolar front, the mood coaster has been fairly smooth these last 9 months. I got the clearance from my psychiatrist to go ahead with trying to breastfeed after labor. This was a great relief considering her original plan was to put me right back on mood stabilizers as soon as the baby was born, meaning no breastfeeding. I am hell bent on trying to breastfeed, and now she is on board with the plan as well. So long as I don't show any signs of PPD or psychosis. Just typing that last word makes me shiver.
Spending time just lounging fosters unfounded guilt. So, I pass the time by visiting you all and your lovely posts. Speaking of which, Aurelia has great news, if not eventful. Stop on by and see for yourself.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Trust Issues
Yesterday, I lounged around all morning. After about 3 hours of doing nothing, I realized that I hadn't felt Curry move all morning! Panic set in pretty quickly and soon I was drinking a liter of juice, laying on my left side and begging Curry to give me a nudge. No movement. Husband and doctor were contacted. Within 15 minutes, I had thrown my pre-packed hospital luggage into the car and we were on our way to the hospital for a non-stress test. I practiced doing some deep breathing relaxation on the 30 minutes drive there. By the time we were 5 miles from the hospital, I felt her give me a little punch in the ribs.
While I waited to be hooked up to the external fetal monitor, we could hear a young woman screaming in labor in the next room. Every once in awhile we could make out the words, "It hurts!" I have no problem in general with women needed to scream out in pain. But, I could have used some ear plugs during those few moments.
Finally, they hooked me up and I heard the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat. The nurse smiled and said things looked really good. Apparently, I even managed to have a good contraction that popped up on the monitor. At least that's what they told me, I didn't feel a thing. Nor did I feel any of the movements that they said Curry was busy making. Perhaps, she had turned herself around so that most of her kicks were into my back. Who knows what my naughty daughter was up to yesterday, but by the time we left the hospital she was back to her tricks and kicking me firmly in the ribs.
On the way to the hospital, I realized that I have some trust issues. All of the natural birthing books I am reading consistently emphasize that women must trust their bodies to do the right thing during labor and delivery. I am not so sure that I trust my body to know what to do. It's sad that miscarriage and mental illness has convinced me that my body doesn't know a damn thing about any of the stuff that it should.
While I waited to be hooked up to the external fetal monitor, we could hear a young woman screaming in labor in the next room. Every once in awhile we could make out the words, "It hurts!" I have no problem in general with women needed to scream out in pain. But, I could have used some ear plugs during those few moments.
Finally, they hooked me up and I heard the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat. The nurse smiled and said things looked really good. Apparently, I even managed to have a good contraction that popped up on the monitor. At least that's what they told me, I didn't feel a thing. Nor did I feel any of the movements that they said Curry was busy making. Perhaps, she had turned herself around so that most of her kicks were into my back. Who knows what my naughty daughter was up to yesterday, but by the time we left the hospital she was back to her tricks and kicking me firmly in the ribs.
On the way to the hospital, I realized that I have some trust issues. All of the natural birthing books I am reading consistently emphasize that women must trust their bodies to do the right thing during labor and delivery. I am not so sure that I trust my body to know what to do. It's sad that miscarriage and mental illness has convinced me that my body doesn't know a damn thing about any of the stuff that it should.
Monday, May 12, 2008
To Term
Done! All the work is handed in and I walked at my graduation yesterday. I am still in a graduation haze and the fact that l@w school is finally over is very gradually settling in. Now, I can focus completely on having this baby without feeling guilty that I am neglecting school or other obligations. For the next 3 months, I have only one obligation and that is truly exciting. It's a whole new idea to me and I am hoping to milk it for all it's worth.
The nesting instinct is starting to take hold, although not in the most productive way. Instead of feeling energetic and feeling the need to organize and clean, I just dream about it fitfully. Then I wake up and remember that nothing has been done and there is still so much left to do.
On the humor front, I fielded a junk phone call the other day. For some reason I felt the need to humor the person and tell them what types of magazines that I was interested in reading. The caller latched onto the idea that I am pregnant and suggested Fit Pregnancy. Not a terrible idea. She quoted a price and I asked how long that would be for. Answer: 5 years. Um, I'm not sure that I am going to be pregnant for five more years, but hey, what do I know?
The nesting instinct is starting to take hold, although not in the most productive way. Instead of feeling energetic and feeling the need to organize and clean, I just dream about it fitfully. Then I wake up and remember that nothing has been done and there is still so much left to do.
On the humor front, I fielded a junk phone call the other day. For some reason I felt the need to humor the person and tell them what types of magazines that I was interested in reading. The caller latched onto the idea that I am pregnant and suggested Fit Pregnancy. Not a terrible idea. She quoted a price and I asked how long that would be for. Answer: 5 years. Um, I'm not sure that I am going to be pregnant for five more years, but hey, what do I know?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
One down, so many to go...
Just finished one final. I have one more final to go, plus a paper. I feel so close and yet so far.
I am having almost daily emotional breakdowns which are just fun for the whole family.
We had a scheduled meeting to interview our preferred and highly recommended doula. She never showed and when called professed to forgetting. We rescheduled for today, despite my husband's legitimate doubts about her at this point. I am unwilling to give up on her, but am unsure why. Lunacy does that.
I am having almost daily emotional breakdowns which are just fun for the whole family.
We had a scheduled meeting to interview our preferred and highly recommended doula. She never showed and when called professed to forgetting. We rescheduled for today, despite my husband's legitimate doubts about her at this point. I am unwilling to give up on her, but am unsure why. Lunacy does that.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Overwhelmed
Just a quick post to tell you all that I am totally and completely overwhelmed by the number of things that need to be done in the near future. I am working on writing 2 papers for an incomplete I opted for in one of my classes last semester. I have 6 clients in my clinic class, instead of the usual 2 or 3. I am working 10 more hours a week at the wine shop because a colleague is out with a serious illness. I have a presentation to make on prison mental health care (a sad story for another time). I am preparing for graduation in May. And, I am trying to get ready for Curry to come in June (God help me if she comes earlier). I could go on, but I think you are getting the gist of it.
Plus, while procrastinating all of this stuff, I surfed to a blog where a woman described losing her fetus at 36 weeks (go see Serenity's blog for the link as well as her own happy news). I am still in mourning for this couple. And as a result, I relentlessly poke and agitate Curry to get her to move and show me that her heart is still beating.
Plus, while procrastinating all of this stuff, I surfed to a blog where a woman described losing her fetus at 36 weeks (go see Serenity's blog for the link as well as her own happy news). I am still in mourning for this couple. And as a result, I relentlessly poke and agitate Curry to get her to move and show me that her heart is still beating.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Can you hear me now?
Sorry for my silence. Apparently, l@w school really is a full time affair. Sheesh, what a bother.
After reading some info on the development of Fetus (nicknamed Curry), I found that her ears have developed enough so that she is hearing a lot of what I hear in a day, even if its significantly muffled. I spent a little time thinking about what it is she hears during an average day. The list looks something like this:
After reading some info on the development of Fetus (nicknamed Curry), I found that her ears have developed enough so that she is hearing a lot of what I hear in a day, even if its significantly muffled. I spent a little time thinking about what it is she hears during an average day. The list looks something like this:
- long boring lectures about family l@w, education l@w, and social security
- my snoring during aforementioned lectures
- litigants screaming at each other during so-called negotiation conferences (I am externing for a county judge)
- loud thumps as litigants' attorneys bang their heads against the wall during aforementioned conferences
- a whole lot of crunching, gurgling, slurping and other sounds originating from the beginning to the end of my digestive system
- my voice singing to the many lively songs of the Violent Femmes
- many, many episodes of The Simpsons
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Back from the sun.
Sorry for the long pause, my friends. I flew to California to see my family (3 sisters and parents etc.) for about a week or so. My mother succeeded in guilt tripping me into flying out. It has been over 2 years since I have seen them all, so it wasn't that difficult to guilt me into going out there. Plus, there is the added bonus of seeing the sun during the Winter. A rare site in upstate New York in January.
Every time I see my sisters, I am subjected to a mini-makeover. The sisters are wholly disgusted with my undyed and graying hair, my unshaven legs, my unkept eyebrows, and unmanicured fingernails. They delight in sneaking in trips to the beauty salon. This time I got a manicure and my eyebrows waxed. While they know I won't be dying my hair any time soon, they never miss a chance to feign surprise at how many gray hairs I have grown since the last time they saw me. Maybe next time, before I go out there, I will dye my hair gray. That'll shut them up...for a minute.
On the fetus front, the AFP (alpha feto protein blood screen) came back negative (which is a positive on the relative scale). However, I am having a new anatomy scan done in early February because there was no sign of the right kidney in the first scan. I guess we are going to be greedy and insist on finding two. Doctor seems totally unconcerned and confident that Fetus just wasn't feeling like a show-off the first time around. I am confident that we will see both kidneys next time. Honestly, I am just excited to be getting another scan. Maybe this is the wrong attitude, but it keeps me sane (relatively) for now.
Every time I see my sisters, I am subjected to a mini-makeover. The sisters are wholly disgusted with my undyed and graying hair, my unshaven legs, my unkept eyebrows, and unmanicured fingernails. They delight in sneaking in trips to the beauty salon. This time I got a manicure and my eyebrows waxed. While they know I won't be dying my hair any time soon, they never miss a chance to feign surprise at how many gray hairs I have grown since the last time they saw me. Maybe next time, before I go out there, I will dye my hair gray. That'll shut them up...for a minute.
On the fetus front, the AFP (alpha feto protein blood screen) came back negative (which is a positive on the relative scale). However, I am having a new anatomy scan done in early February because there was no sign of the right kidney in the first scan. I guess we are going to be greedy and insist on finding two. Doctor seems totally unconcerned and confident that Fetus just wasn't feeling like a show-off the first time around. I am confident that we will see both kidneys next time. Honestly, I am just excited to be getting another scan. Maybe this is the wrong attitude, but it keeps me sane (relatively) for now.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
If it's not NPR, it sucks.
While driving through our tiny downtown area the other day, I was bopping along to our local college radio station. You know the type. They play some good alternative music, along with episodes of music where I wonder out loud whether the college generation has gone totally tone deaf, and then those station saving sections where they have a theme like jazz, or acoustic, etc. After one of their better songs, the DJ comes back on and starts talking about the end of 2007. This is what she said:
"Well, I am sorry to see 2007 go. It was an incredible year. We saw Britney shave her head and Paris Hilton go to jail. What a year! Can't wait to see what 2008 has in store for us."
Um, what?!?!? That's how they mark the incredible events of 2007?!?!? Fucking unbelievable. Granted, 2007, wasn't a great landmark year, but surely the supposedly half educated among us (in other words, college students) can find real things that happened, and not what the latest tabloid-queens have been doing. Pathetic.
Just another example that proves, if it's not NPR, it sucks.
-----------------
In other news, Husband and I went for the anatomy scan yesterday. It was to say the least, spectacular! This whole pregnancy feels so much more real and apparently there really is some kind of baby in there. One that moves, even. And, since the technician couldn't find anything that resembled a penis, we are running with the idea that it's a girl or a baby boy without a penis. Take your pick.
And now for your viewing pleasure, here's an image of her very strong arm.
"Well, I am sorry to see 2007 go. It was an incredible year. We saw Britney shave her head and Paris Hilton go to jail. What a year! Can't wait to see what 2008 has in store for us."
Um, what?!?!? That's how they mark the incredible events of 2007?!?!? Fucking unbelievable. Granted, 2007, wasn't a great landmark year, but surely the supposedly half educated among us (in other words, college students) can find real things that happened, and not what the latest tabloid-queens have been doing. Pathetic.
Just another example that proves, if it's not NPR, it sucks.
-----------------
In other news, Husband and I went for the anatomy scan yesterday. It was to say the least, spectacular! This whole pregnancy feels so much more real and apparently there really is some kind of baby in there. One that moves, even. And, since the technician couldn't find anything that resembled a penis, we are running with the idea that it's a girl or a baby boy without a penis. Take your pick.
And now for your viewing pleasure, here's an image of her very strong arm.
Friday, December 21, 2007
The Christmas Letter
I have received a few Christmas letters from friends and family again this year. Before l@w school, I created handmade Christmas cards to send out in lieu of the dreaded letter. This was my way of escaping saying anything about my life. Now, I have no time for handmade Christmas cards and those letters just keep coming. The friends from college have started generating those same letters that we once mocked for their self congratulatory and boasting tones. They have babies and houses and property and careers to announce. Conspicuously absent from those letters are divorce, miscarriages, mental illness, crushing debt and rentals. So, this is the letter I have been trying to get Husband to write for us...
Dear Friends and Family,
It's been another banner year here in the land of gorges and waterfalls. January began with a scramble to get together money for Nicole's tuition and books. Even though she failed at her attempts to get a summer job at a lucrative law firm, she decided to keep going through school. Why stop at $75,000 in debt when you can go for platinum at $150,000? And you thought that new house you wrote to us about was expensive!
We managed to keep Nicole from jumping into one of those lovely gorges (photo enclosed), by focusing her efforts on conception. Scheduled romps in the hay may not be sexy, but they do keep you warm for 5-10 minutes. Given that the Gas and Electric Company now keep up correspondence using personal visits for bill collection, that warmth came in handy in the cold months of Winter.
By mid-February, we were doing the "I think I see two lines!" dance. We went through March alternating between bleeds and onesie shopping sprees. By the time April came around, we announced, "IT'S A D&C!!!" We were the proud parents of "the products of conception" named: Percocet, Chlamydia, and Ser0quel.
By Summer, Nicole was diagnosed with the same cholesterol numbers that came before the death of her father, so we quietly mourned the loss of our reason for living: Cheese. At the end of Summer, we realized that Nicole could no longer sit on her ass anymore and had to get a second job. Someone had to pay for mistakes made during our two divorces as well as for the medical bills from Nicole's bipolar fallouts. After a B.S., a Ph.D., and 2 years of law school, she proudly accepted a job selling wine at a retail shop and thoroughly enjoyed catering to former science colleagues and fellow law students freshly back from their $5000 per week summer firm jobs. She never tires of the question, "So what, exactly, are you doing with all your degrees?"
Just as she returned to her futile efforts at law school in the Fall, we discovered that she had managed to miscarry another one when the doctors compassionately wrote off another "product" as a chemical pregnancy. Good times were had by all. But by October, what do you know? It's time to do the "It's a two liner" dance again. After a few more weeks, we joined the misfit uterus club when Nicole discovered the words "bicornuate uterus" in her medical records.
So now we go into this grand new year wondering how we will feed, clothe and house the three of us once the school loans stop coming in June. With a June due date, taking the bar is out and so is lining up her first post-law school job. But, that's OK, because so far, there aren't any jobs for Nicole anyway. Good thing she just got a raise at that wine job. Oh, this maybe baby is in for a real treat at the rented house in the land of gorges and waterfalls.
Happy Holidays!!!
The Husband.
P.S. If you happen to see Nicole around any of those gorges or waterfalls, can you please ask her to wait until after June before she plans any high dives?
Dear Friends and Family,
It's been another banner year here in the land of gorges and waterfalls. January began with a scramble to get together money for Nicole's tuition and books. Even though she failed at her attempts to get a summer job at a lucrative law firm, she decided to keep going through school. Why stop at $75,000 in debt when you can go for platinum at $150,000? And you thought that new house you wrote to us about was expensive!
We managed to keep Nicole from jumping into one of those lovely gorges (photo enclosed), by focusing her efforts on conception. Scheduled romps in the hay may not be sexy, but they do keep you warm for 5-10 minutes. Given that the Gas and Electric Company now keep up correspondence using personal visits for bill collection, that warmth came in handy in the cold months of Winter.
By mid-February, we were doing the "I think I see two lines!" dance. We went through March alternating between bleeds and onesie shopping sprees. By the time April came around, we announced, "IT'S A D&C!!!" We were the proud parents of "the products of conception" named: Percocet, Chlamydia, and Ser0quel.
By Summer, Nicole was diagnosed with the same cholesterol numbers that came before the death of her father, so we quietly mourned the loss of our reason for living: Cheese. At the end of Summer, we realized that Nicole could no longer sit on her ass anymore and had to get a second job. Someone had to pay for mistakes made during our two divorces as well as for the medical bills from Nicole's bipolar fallouts. After a B.S., a Ph.D., and 2 years of law school, she proudly accepted a job selling wine at a retail shop and thoroughly enjoyed catering to former science colleagues and fellow law students freshly back from their $5000 per week summer firm jobs. She never tires of the question, "So what, exactly, are you doing with all your degrees?"
Just as she returned to her futile efforts at law school in the Fall, we discovered that she had managed to miscarry another one when the doctors compassionately wrote off another "product" as a chemical pregnancy. Good times were had by all. But by October, what do you know? It's time to do the "It's a two liner" dance again. After a few more weeks, we joined the misfit uterus club when Nicole discovered the words "bicornuate uterus" in her medical records.
So now we go into this grand new year wondering how we will feed, clothe and house the three of us once the school loans stop coming in June. With a June due date, taking the bar is out and so is lining up her first post-law school job. But, that's OK, because so far, there aren't any jobs for Nicole anyway. Good thing she just got a raise at that wine job. Oh, this maybe baby is in for a real treat at the rented house in the land of gorges and waterfalls.
Happy Holidays!!!
The Husband.
P.S. If you happen to see Nicole around any of those gorges or waterfalls, can you please ask her to wait until after June before she plans any high dives?
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Reassuring words
We made the 40 minute drive to the doctor this morning only to discover that my doctor was stuck in a surgery that went long. And so I was rescheduled for 1:45pm. Husband and I drove back to our hometown. Then we drove out again at 1:00pm. The drives were made much less anxious by Husband's recordings of several This American Life episodes.
I talked to Liz the nurse and apologized for bugging them on a busy day. She was nothing but compassionate and reminded me that I was never bugging them. I really needed to hear that.
Then the doctor came in and I told him all my concerns which he took seriously. I apologized to him too, and his reaction was the same as the nurse's. All compassion. I needed to hear that too. He did a complete pelvic exam, checking my cervix and uterus height. He enthusiastically assured me that everything looked perfect! Then we heard the heartbeat at 150bpm. More reassurance and we were sent home feeling so relieved and quite honestly I didn't feel so stupid. I felt validated. As you all said, going to my doctor was absolutely the right thing to do. And, I also felt again that I had made the right choice in my practitioner. Now, it's nap time.
I talked to Liz the nurse and apologized for bugging them on a busy day. She was nothing but compassionate and reminded me that I was never bugging them. I really needed to hear that.
Then the doctor came in and I told him all my concerns which he took seriously. I apologized to him too, and his reaction was the same as the nurse's. All compassion. I needed to hear that too. He did a complete pelvic exam, checking my cervix and uterus height. He enthusiastically assured me that everything looked perfect! Then we heard the heartbeat at 150bpm. More reassurance and we were sent home feeling so relieved and quite honestly I didn't feel so stupid. I felt validated. As you all said, going to my doctor was absolutely the right thing to do. And, I also felt again that I had made the right choice in my practitioner. Now, it's nap time.
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