It's kind of hard to tell from the picture, but you can see the side of her head and all that wispy stuff floating out the left is hair. Pretty amazing. But the best news is that as of Thursday, June 12, she was 7 pounds, 3 oz. They do not think she will get to be 10 pounds so a C Section shouldn't be in my future. YAY! They finally let Jeff in and we went over the pictures and did more videos which I'll post below. We were both in awe at the amount of detail. It was very surreal and we are both so anxious to meet her!! We left the ultrasound center on a high and got in the elevator to head to the 4th floor to see my doctor. I check in at the front desk and she marvels at how long we've been there. Don't kill my high, lady. I go back to the doctor's office and it's now about 2:00. We haven't eaten and Jeff is starting to shake, so he goes back down to the 1st floor to get some food. I told him I would call him when I was called back and we'd go from there. At 2:15, the nurse calls my name (I was starting to sweat as we were supposed to have our Continental shower at 3:00). She looks at me and says, "Oh you must have been waiting a long time" or something like that. I tell her she has no idea. But she quickly corrects me and says, "Oh no, I know you checked in at 7:45 - what happened??" I start to tell her how there were no appointments available, so they had to "work me in" and blah blah blah. She takes my blood pressure, weight, and leaves so I can change. I should have just worn the stupid gowns from downstairs up here. But as soon as she leaves, I can hear her outside my exam room talking with the other nurses and they are all gasping at the fact that I have been here for so long. I barely have time to change and sit back down on the bed table when I hear her grab the nurse practitioner and tell her the story. My door immediately opens and in walks the NP. She is blown away that I have been at the office so long and asks for the story. So I tell her and she ends with "Those women down there are idiots!!!" Couldn't have said it better myself. *grin* She examines me, says Emma is ready so any day we could meet her. I am not ready yet, but she is slightly concerned that my placenta is getting old. I asked if that was serious and she said it was no big deal. She said you could have a placenta that was 100% perfect, but not have a heartbeat. SO she asked me to do a kick count once a day after a meal. I should lie down on my left side and try to count 4 kicks in 30 minutes. If I don't get 4 in 30 minutes, go another 30 minutes. I should be able to feel 4 kicks in one hour. If not, I should call her. Emma moves around so much 4 kicks is not hard to count. She does mention that my doctor may want to consider inducing me because of the placenta, but we'll see next week. It's now 3:00. Luckily, the women planning our shower were running behind and they postponed it until 3:30. Sweet. I meet Jeff coming out of the elevator and we go down to the 1st floor to pay our parking. Good thing the parking caps off at $5.00 a day! We put our ticket in and it shows up that we've been there for OVER 7 HOURS!! Can you imagine?? We tried to get a print out of the receipt, but it didn't work. Unbelievable. I asked Jeff to take me through Burger King's drive through because I was starving...I crammed a burger down, we drove to Continental and made it up to the 17th floor with 10 minutes to spare. We had a lovely shower, loaded up the car, somehow managed to avoid rush hour traffic while going home and stumbled through the door about 5:45 or so. We were exhausted!!! Heck, I'm exhausted just telling the story! Stay tuned for more updates as we get closer and closer to D Day.Friday, June 13, 2008
I'm Having Our Mail Forwarded to The Women's Center
Yesterday was a nightmare. Really. I'll just start off by saying that Emma is fine, I'm fine, and I'll recant the details of how the appointment went further below. But first I feel compelled to share what a FANTASTIC time Jeff and I had yesterday. And by fantastic I mean miserable, horrible, ridiculous, and down right ludicrous. The morning started off wonderfully, I woke up before the alarm, had breakfast at 5:30, cleaned the kitchen up, made the bed, opened all the curtains...I was on a roll. Jeff and I left a little later than we had planned and traffic was a little congested on the tollway, but we were having a nice talk all the way in to the doctor's office. We arrive and there are plenty of parking spots, all up front, for us to choose from (who in their right mind shows up at 7:35??) and we saunter in through the doors of the big women's center. My doctor is on the fourth floor, the imaging center and blood lab are on the first floor and I don't really know what's on the other floors...fertility is somewhere, heck, there is even a Walgreens, a maternity shop, and a gift shop there. We check in at the imaging center (I didn't forget my "permission slip" from the doctor authorizing my ultrasound - SCORE!)at 7:45 and the lady says, "we'll call your name shortly". Now lets back up. Two weeks ago when I made the appointment, they told me there were no openings and that I'd have to be considered a "work in" and my wait time would be from 30 minutes to 4 hours. I took the day off of work just in case but really I didn't think we'd be there the whole 4 hours. I'm getting ahead of myself. So it's been much longer than "shortly" and I now have to use the facilities. But with ultrasounds, they tell you you need a full bladder and drink fluid, blah blah blah. I'm full. I'm nearly popping. I'm trying to hold on because they may call me at...any...second. After I crossed the threshold of pain, I went up the front desk and politely asked if I was allowed to go to the bathroom. Allowed?? Whatever, I was trying to be nice so they'd call my name already. Yes I was allowed and I didn't have to go out of the imaging center and down the hall, I could just walk through the door to my left (where normally you have to be called to enter) and "follow the pattern on the carpet". I'm now like a mouse in a maze, but with a map, and so I follow the pattern. And wind up in the mammogram waiting area. OK, so at the fork in the hallway I should have followed the LEFT pattern...whatever, I made it. And relief was immediate. I come back out and now I'm hungry. Bodily function #1 handled, lets move on to #2...hunger. It's 9:00 and I'm ready for lunch. I send my sweet Jeff to the cafe down the hall (thank goodness someone though to open a food source there!) and he comes back with a chocolate muffin for me, a brownie and orange soda for him. I declined a drink because they were sure to call me any moment and I didn't want to be left with a drink. I should have been more concerned that a drink would make me have to "follow the (correct) pattern in the carpet" again, but I shouldn't have worried. I had to go several more times before my name was called. At some point, Jeff starts strategizing. "If they don't call your name in 10 minutes, I want you to fake labor pains". I remind him that faking labor will cause them to take me to the hospital in the next building over and not get me in for the required ultrasound. Strike one. "If they don't call your name in 15 minutes, just go up and slap the nurse". Yeah, we'll just end the inning on that one. Kill em with kindness honey. I'm not slapping anyone!! I'll never get back there. Jeff tried to win them over with his charm and wit but the nursing staff wasn't having it. At some point, I realize that some of the nurses have left and are now coming back to their desk with Styrofoam containers WITH THEIR LUNCH!! I'm so hungry! One of the mammogram side nurses comments to us that "we've been there a long time!" and Jeff smiles and now, each time she comes out to call names, he asks her oh-so-innocently, "Did you just call Parnell?" She kept smiling and laughing with him...er at him. The second time he asked her for clarification if she called Parnell, the other side door opened and a light shone on the nurse. Angels descended from Heaven as the nurse called, "Parnell?" I feel like the whole waiting area on our side stood up and clapped. I stood up and almost ran over people to get to the nurse. Jeff had to still wait until they called him back to see me, but at least I was in!! So now I am led to the little waiting room. Please take off your clothes and put on the flimsy gown such that the openings are in the back. (I thought this was a silly statement and pretty self explanatory until one of the women in the little waiting room said she was in there once with a woman who had the opening to the front. More show that the lady wanted and she had to tell the woman to go and turn it around. How embarrassing!) I am looking in my changing stall and there are no robes. Hmmm. I know to put the opening in the back, but lets be honest. Those little tie straps cover nothing and the gaps that would be left could be quite humiliating. Hence the robes that are also in the changing areas. Except we have none. I grasp the back of my gown as closed as I can and venture out where another woman is waiting. I ask her if there are robes anywhere and she says no. (She likes me because earlier when we were all still in the waiting room, Jeff told her she had "Fun Crocs". I didn't know shoes could be fun and I don't really like the way Crocs look, but whatever - she liked Jeff so now she's willing to share information with me.) She suggests taking another gown and wearing it "backwards" to make sure all necessary parts are covered. Duh. There are 4 other women changing and we all come out in double gowns - grateful for the Croc Lady's wisdom. We start sharing pregnancy stories and I notice there is another woman in there with us. She says to me, "You must be the other work in ahead of me" so we laugh at how ridiculous the wait has been. She says, "I've been here since 9:30" and everyone gasps. Yeah, I'll see your 9:30 and raise you 7:45!!! Now I get even bigger gasps. But my smug expression is quickly erased when they call the second work in before me. What the?? Thankfully I am called within minutes and I am not forced to bust out my Alief ninja skills on the poor unsuspecting nurses. Do not call the second lady before me. I have clearly put in my time and should be called first. I have been here longer, I am more pregnant, and if my husband finds out you called her first, my ninja skills will not be the threat you should worry about. *grin* My actual ultrasound experience was wonderful. She put a pillow under my legs, and we begin the exploration of the home I have created for Emma. We confirmed she was a girl again (didn't occur to me that anything would change there, but I got about 6 picture of the confirmation. One would have been OK - don't need 6!) and this little girl has hair people. I'm not talking baby fuzz...she's got hair! I could see the hair moving in the fluid. It looks like it hangs off her head by about an inch. She gets that from her Mamma.
It's kind of hard to tell from the picture, but you can see the side of her head and all that wispy stuff floating out the left is hair. Pretty amazing. But the best news is that as of Thursday, June 12, she was 7 pounds, 3 oz. They do not think she will get to be 10 pounds so a C Section shouldn't be in my future. YAY! They finally let Jeff in and we went over the pictures and did more videos which I'll post below. We were both in awe at the amount of detail. It was very surreal and we are both so anxious to meet her!! We left the ultrasound center on a high and got in the elevator to head to the 4th floor to see my doctor. I check in at the front desk and she marvels at how long we've been there. Don't kill my high, lady. I go back to the doctor's office and it's now about 2:00. We haven't eaten and Jeff is starting to shake, so he goes back down to the 1st floor to get some food. I told him I would call him when I was called back and we'd go from there. At 2:15, the nurse calls my name (I was starting to sweat as we were supposed to have our Continental shower at 3:00). She looks at me and says, "Oh you must have been waiting a long time" or something like that. I tell her she has no idea. But she quickly corrects me and says, "Oh no, I know you checked in at 7:45 - what happened??" I start to tell her how there were no appointments available, so they had to "work me in" and blah blah blah. She takes my blood pressure, weight, and leaves so I can change. I should have just worn the stupid gowns from downstairs up here. But as soon as she leaves, I can hear her outside my exam room talking with the other nurses and they are all gasping at the fact that I have been here for so long. I barely have time to change and sit back down on the bed table when I hear her grab the nurse practitioner and tell her the story. My door immediately opens and in walks the NP. She is blown away that I have been at the office so long and asks for the story. So I tell her and she ends with "Those women down there are idiots!!!" Couldn't have said it better myself. *grin* She examines me, says Emma is ready so any day we could meet her. I am not ready yet, but she is slightly concerned that my placenta is getting old. I asked if that was serious and she said it was no big deal. She said you could have a placenta that was 100% perfect, but not have a heartbeat. SO she asked me to do a kick count once a day after a meal. I should lie down on my left side and try to count 4 kicks in 30 minutes. If I don't get 4 in 30 minutes, go another 30 minutes. I should be able to feel 4 kicks in one hour. If not, I should call her. Emma moves around so much 4 kicks is not hard to count. She does mention that my doctor may want to consider inducing me because of the placenta, but we'll see next week. It's now 3:00. Luckily, the women planning our shower were running behind and they postponed it until 3:30. Sweet. I meet Jeff coming out of the elevator and we go down to the 1st floor to pay our parking. Good thing the parking caps off at $5.00 a day! We put our ticket in and it shows up that we've been there for OVER 7 HOURS!! Can you imagine?? We tried to get a print out of the receipt, but it didn't work. Unbelievable. I asked Jeff to take me through Burger King's drive through because I was starving...I crammed a burger down, we drove to Continental and made it up to the 17th floor with 10 minutes to spare. We had a lovely shower, loaded up the car, somehow managed to avoid rush hour traffic while going home and stumbled through the door about 5:45 or so. We were exhausted!!! Heck, I'm exhausted just telling the story! Stay tuned for more updates as we get closer and closer to D Day.
It's kind of hard to tell from the picture, but you can see the side of her head and all that wispy stuff floating out the left is hair. Pretty amazing. But the best news is that as of Thursday, June 12, she was 7 pounds, 3 oz. They do not think she will get to be 10 pounds so a C Section shouldn't be in my future. YAY! They finally let Jeff in and we went over the pictures and did more videos which I'll post below. We were both in awe at the amount of detail. It was very surreal and we are both so anxious to meet her!! We left the ultrasound center on a high and got in the elevator to head to the 4th floor to see my doctor. I check in at the front desk and she marvels at how long we've been there. Don't kill my high, lady. I go back to the doctor's office and it's now about 2:00. We haven't eaten and Jeff is starting to shake, so he goes back down to the 1st floor to get some food. I told him I would call him when I was called back and we'd go from there. At 2:15, the nurse calls my name (I was starting to sweat as we were supposed to have our Continental shower at 3:00). She looks at me and says, "Oh you must have been waiting a long time" or something like that. I tell her she has no idea. But she quickly corrects me and says, "Oh no, I know you checked in at 7:45 - what happened??" I start to tell her how there were no appointments available, so they had to "work me in" and blah blah blah. She takes my blood pressure, weight, and leaves so I can change. I should have just worn the stupid gowns from downstairs up here. But as soon as she leaves, I can hear her outside my exam room talking with the other nurses and they are all gasping at the fact that I have been here for so long. I barely have time to change and sit back down on the bed table when I hear her grab the nurse practitioner and tell her the story. My door immediately opens and in walks the NP. She is blown away that I have been at the office so long and asks for the story. So I tell her and she ends with "Those women down there are idiots!!!" Couldn't have said it better myself. *grin* She examines me, says Emma is ready so any day we could meet her. I am not ready yet, but she is slightly concerned that my placenta is getting old. I asked if that was serious and she said it was no big deal. She said you could have a placenta that was 100% perfect, but not have a heartbeat. SO she asked me to do a kick count once a day after a meal. I should lie down on my left side and try to count 4 kicks in 30 minutes. If I don't get 4 in 30 minutes, go another 30 minutes. I should be able to feel 4 kicks in one hour. If not, I should call her. Emma moves around so much 4 kicks is not hard to count. She does mention that my doctor may want to consider inducing me because of the placenta, but we'll see next week. It's now 3:00. Luckily, the women planning our shower were running behind and they postponed it until 3:30. Sweet. I meet Jeff coming out of the elevator and we go down to the 1st floor to pay our parking. Good thing the parking caps off at $5.00 a day! We put our ticket in and it shows up that we've been there for OVER 7 HOURS!! Can you imagine?? We tried to get a print out of the receipt, but it didn't work. Unbelievable. I asked Jeff to take me through Burger King's drive through because I was starving...I crammed a burger down, we drove to Continental and made it up to the 17th floor with 10 minutes to spare. We had a lovely shower, loaded up the car, somehow managed to avoid rush hour traffic while going home and stumbled through the door about 5:45 or so. We were exhausted!!! Heck, I'm exhausted just telling the story! Stay tuned for more updates as we get closer and closer to D Day.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
House Rules, Nighttime Rituals, and Falling in Love
Last night was very nice - it was our 2 year anniversary and Jeff had flowers, chocolate, and a beautiful card waiting for me when I got home last night. The card was so nice - it had lots of "stuff" on it and he was proud that it was "like a scrapbook card" . He wrote some beautiful words on it and that's always my favorite part of any card from him. We had a nice dinner and I was ready for bed by about 8:30! I didn't say anything until almost 10:00 though, so by the time I tumbled into bed, I was dog tired!!
Now speaking of dogs, I do not like the dogs to sleep on our bed. Number one I don't want to sleep with all that dog hair, and Kylie and Bear have a lot of it and each one has different types so it makes it hard to clean off. I also think that quite frankly, I spoiled Miss Kylie Mo during her younger years when she was allowed to sleep with me, such that now if she gets on the bed, she thinks Mommy gets one side and Kylie gets the other. I'm not sure where she thinks Daddy is supposed to sleep. I suppose she doesn't care!
But each night for the past several weeks, when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, my sweet little Bear comes into our room from the living room to check on me. As I go back to bed, I stop at the foot of the bed on Jeff's side where Bear settles down while I'm in the bathroom and scratch him under the chin. However, I think that a scratch under the chin in dog language translates to "Hi there boy, why don't you jump on the bed after I settle in". You can imagine what happens when I crawl back into bed. I finally get myself situated again and then a little fluffy face appears next to me. He settles himself between Jeff and I and quickly knocks out. At 3am, he's just so darned cute and fluffy and cuddly that I can't possibly make him get down. I think he senses I'm in a weakened condition and knows when to "attack".
So lately, we start out with no dogs on the bed, but usually in the early morning, we are joined by that fluffy, cuddly, sweet little Baby Bear that somehow has managed to win my heart.
Don't tell Kylie!!
Now speaking of dogs, I do not like the dogs to sleep on our bed. Number one I don't want to sleep with all that dog hair, and Kylie and Bear have a lot of it and each one has different types so it makes it hard to clean off. I also think that quite frankly, I spoiled Miss Kylie Mo during her younger years when she was allowed to sleep with me, such that now if she gets on the bed, she thinks Mommy gets one side and Kylie gets the other. I'm not sure where she thinks Daddy is supposed to sleep. I suppose she doesn't care!
But each night for the past several weeks, when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, my sweet little Bear comes into our room from the living room to check on me. As I go back to bed, I stop at the foot of the bed on Jeff's side where Bear settles down while I'm in the bathroom and scratch him under the chin. However, I think that a scratch under the chin in dog language translates to "Hi there boy, why don't you jump on the bed after I settle in". You can imagine what happens when I crawl back into bed. I finally get myself situated again and then a little fluffy face appears next to me. He settles himself between Jeff and I and quickly knocks out. At 3am, he's just so darned cute and fluffy and cuddly that I can't possibly make him get down. I think he senses I'm in a weakened condition and knows when to "attack".
So lately, we start out with no dogs on the bed, but usually in the early morning, we are joined by that fluffy, cuddly, sweet little Baby Bear that somehow has managed to win my heart.
Don't tell Kylie!!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
ABCDEFG, Next Time Won't You Count (Down) With Me?
19 days until my due date. Just 19 days. Now, I realize she may come earlier or she may decide she's not ready and (GASP) come later. Jeff and I are hoping for not later! Today is our anniversary and I am a bad wife because I have not made a card yet. Today sort of snuck up on me, and being that my energy level is at a negative to begin with, being creative and coming up with a beautiful card that would reflect the endless love I have for him didn't happen. I make a list each weekend (Jeff loves these lists, LOL) of "things" I want to get done that weekend. Everything from listing each individual load of laundry, to changing the sheets, or finishing painting the upstairs bathroom. Usually I complete most of the list (and I actually mopped this past weekend!) but this past weekend it wasn't happening. I did get all of the diapers washed (Apparently you have to wash them 4-5 times before you use them so they fluff up and become more absorbant) and folded and put away. That was a big task - I can't tell you how hard it was to keep track of how many times each was washed/dried - I had post it notes on the tops of the washer and dryer to remind me what number I was on. But on the second page is where I listed "extra" non-cleaning things I needed to do. Make shower hostess bags is on there, as well as "make A card". That was code to me for anniversary card for my sweetie in case Jeffrey looked at the list and wanted to help cross things off. You can well imagine that "make A card" is still on my list, waiting patiently for me to complete the task and cross it off. Would someone like to invent a day pass for pregnant women? It would be like a get out of jail free card. You get x amount issued when you go to your first doctor's visit and you may turn them in when you need a day of non-pregnancy. I would turn one in today. LOL! I'd make the most spectacular card, clean our house from top to bottom, finish painting the bathroom, then put color on the walls, get the little knick knacky stuff put away, readjust the car seat base in Jeff's car and buy some nursing pajamas. Wait, I know there is more I would want to do...
19 more days. I wonder if I will be instantly more mobile when Emma is finally out. I know I'll still probably look pregnant - all my friends are making a point to stress the fact that I should not expect to go home in my prepregnancy clothes. But will I be more able to get out of bed? And clean my shower? Hmmmm....
Until then, I will patiently continue to count down the days.
19 more days. I wonder if I will be instantly more mobile when Emma is finally out. I know I'll still probably look pregnant - all my friends are making a point to stress the fact that I should not expect to go home in my prepregnancy clothes. But will I be more able to get out of bed? And clean my shower? Hmmmm....
Until then, I will patiently continue to count down the days.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
How Your Sense of Normal Gets Skewed...and Kudos to My Nephew Jake!!
Normal. I used to own a button in the 7th grade that said Normal in red with a line through it like a No Smoking button. I think my first boyfriend gave it to me. Anyway, I sported that button like I was the coolest - I did NOT want to be normal and thought the idea of being unique and spunky appealed to me. 100 years later, as I watch my fingers and feet swell, and it's becoming increasingly harder to breathe as little Emma crawls up under my ribcage, I yearn for normal. I'd like to wear clothes that don't have to tie in the back (and whoever thought this up anyway?? The bigger I get, the harder it is for me to tie those strings and now Jeff has to do it for me!) and pants that don't have a panel that covers my entire stomach and by entire, I mean all the way up to my chest. I'd like to be able to paint my own toes and, heck, even get off the couch without needing Jeff's helping hand. My bed would be my haven again (yes I know I'll not be sleeping for a while, but at least I'd be comfortable when I was able to catch a few winks. I wouldn't have to be nervous that when the dogs jumped on the bed (OK mostly Kylie Mo since she weighs 75 pounds but doesn't know it) they won't walk on my tummy...and if I have to move out of her way, how quickly can I do it? It would be nice to sleep on my left side sometimes and if there was a natural disaster or an emergency, I'd be toast. Speedy Gonzales I am not. Arriba, arriba.
Normal looks pretty good right about now.
Now you are going to bear with me as I'm going to be very proud Aunt Heather!
My nephew Jake goes to a private Christian school and they recently had their awards night. Last year, at the Kindergarten awards night, Jake captured the Christian Character Award. What an honor. He was the only one in the entire kindergarten to receive this award. Well, this year, at the awards ceremony, Jake's name was called again for the Christian Character Award for the first grade!! Jeff and I are so proud of him. What an honor to receive the award at all, let alone two years in a row!
Normal looks pretty good right about now.
Now you are going to bear with me as I'm going to be very proud Aunt Heather!
My nephew Jake goes to a private Christian school and they recently had their awards night. Last year, at the Kindergarten awards night, Jake captured the Christian Character Award. What an honor. He was the only one in the entire kindergarten to receive this award. Well, this year, at the awards ceremony, Jake's name was called again for the Christian Character Award for the first grade!! Jeff and I are so proud of him. What an honor to receive the award at all, let alone two years in a row!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy
You got excited at the thought of some Deep Thoughts, didn't you? Well, because I don't want to be a liar, here are some of my favorites...and then we'll get down to business.
real Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy
I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is
they don't want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff,
then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, "What
was THAT?!"
If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe
you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey,
free dummy.
If you lose your job, your marriage, and your mind all in one week, try to lose your mind first, because then the other stuff won't matter that much.
I have to say, I got one of his books for my 16th birthday and I still laugh like a lunatic when I read them. So, anyway, on with the update.
We went to the doctor Thursday and I have to say, things are changing at this stage of the game. After the routine blood pressure, listen for the heartbeat, get my weight, the nurse starts digging in some drawers for some "instruments". They are enclosed in plastic and I'm realizing that this visit is going to be different. And I'm not exactly pleased. So I ask her what we will be doing today and she said that I will be having my cervix examined. Start adrenaline rush here. She smiles and leaves (she really is one of my favorite nurses, but I am a bit neurotic and am only able to concentrate on what the good doctor will find). You see, I have been saying that I am ready to have this baby and meet her and hold her and while I mean all of these things, I am now suddenly acutely aware that I am indeed not ready and if he tells me I have started to dilate, I think I will fall off of the pseudo bed. So I'm sitting as nicely as possible on the pseudo table complete with the drape around me to make me more modest. Then I realize that the backside of me is not covered by the lovely drape and move quickly to cover all things me that are not meant for everyone to see. This apparently makes Jeff laugh as he asks why I don't want the hallway to see my naked hiney. So now I'm covered, sitting on the dumb table bed and I keep looking to the shrink wrapped instruments on the counter. Not wanting to get up and disturb my strategically placed drape, I tell Jeff to get up and look at what is on the counter. "Some sort of CSI looking swab" is what he comes up with. What are they doing to me? Is this a trick PAP Smear? What is going on. The heart rate continues to go up. Before I can either calm myself down or jack myself up any farther, the good doctor comes in. All smiles. Yeah, he hasn't been staring down some shrink wrapped instruments for 15 minutes. I'm not good at the unknown if you can't tell. :-)
On with my antics...er story. So apparently the swab is not for Gil Grissom, but rather to test to see if I have Group B Strep. This is apparently not completely uncommon and is not harmful to me, but is severely harmful to the baby. If it is positive, I am not to panic, because they will just give me an antibiotic when I'm in labor and that will protect Emma. Feeling better. Then he does the pelvic and then we're done.
He did not laugh at me this time. But he did ask me to make an appointment with the imaging center downstairs as he wants to go over the ultrasound and start making decisions. Will I go into labor? Will he decide she's too big and schedule a C-Section? All that remains to be seen as a result of the ultrasound. He did say that it was very possible that she was not a huge baby and that I was just big and would be able to have her naturally. Well, not NATURALLY, please pass the epidural, but I would not necessarily have to have surgery. Awake. In a hospital. All of which I would so be looking forward to. Sigh.
So we say our good byes (he will be out of town for the next week or so, so I do not have to come in next week.) Doctor vacation. Additional stress on me. Sweet Baby Emma, stay inside a bit longer please. As long as he's back when she is coming, we'll be just fine.
So down we go from the 4th floor to the 1st floor and into the imaging center. I thumb my nose at the blood drawing place across the hall and thank my stars that I'm done with that area. I smile at the women behind the counter and announce that I need to schedule an ultrasound in two weeks. The nurse smiles back (sort of) and says she doesn't have anything available in 2 weeks. I smile again, and say, "Oh, it doesn't have to be two weeks exactly from today - we can go forward or backward a day or two." I am so accommodating. Then she explains that she doesn't have anything open for 4-5 weeks. I quickly do some calculating and realize that this is past my due date. A bit anticlimactic, don't you think? I now look to Jeff like I don't understand now what to do and he quickly explains to the nurse that "my wife will be in labor by then!" Sweet Jeff. He can tell my anxiety level is going up and I can see it is affecting him as well. I turn back to the nurse as she laughs and says, "Look, what I'll do is schedule you for Thursday the 12th as a 'work in' which means that you get here at 7:30 am and your wait time will be anywhere from 30 minutes to 4 hours. My eyes glaze over at the mention of 4 hours and she quickly assures me that they will do their best and perhaps someone will oversleep and not make it for their 7:30 am appointment. She gives me the paper I will need to get in the door and Jeff and I head out to our car. I realize that I have no way to schedule an appointment with Dr Irwin "afterwards" because who knows how long I'll be sitting in the Imaging Center? I decide rather than head baaaack up to the 4th floor, I'll just call the nurses directly tomorrow and work it out with them. I have a fake appointment at 11:30 but the nurse said whenever I'm done - be it before or after just come upstairs and they'd work me in. I'm going to be getting worked in all over the place on the 12th. But all in all, I'm starting to go back to my "just get her out" feelings. Which brings me to this morning.
I wake up at 4 something and have to visit the little cowgirl's room. Apparently, Jeff has the same idea and he gets up as well. We meet back in the bedroom and I tell him the thought of trying to get back into bed distressed me (Under normal - read NOT PREGNANT - circumstances, I like to sleep like a princess. Like down feather beds, down pillows, down comforter, the bed is up 6 inches higher than your bed probably is and I love it. My mamma told us that our beds were a safe place to be and that it was a wonderful place. Perhaps I didn't like to go to bed as a child, but it worked. I love my bed. Normally. I've taken off the feather bed and need Jeff's help to "pull" me in at night.) My right ear is going to look like I've spent time training for UFC because I can only sleep on my right side and I wake up with it sore. Trying to flip to my left side is a feat better left for someone more agile and plus, the fan can't blow on my face and I get too hot. So I tell Jeff I'm going to go out to the living room and set up shop on the couch. He says he'll come with me. Sweet husband. He gets me situated on my left side on the couch (ah relief already) and settles down into the big chair for some sleep. I thought. He asks if I mind if he turns on the TV. No problem, I fall asleep to it all the time. He then carefully lowers the volume and selects the Academy Award winning movie, Harley Davidson and The Marlboro Man. Seriously? There is a movie named that??? Aaaand it's about robbing an armored van (or something along those lines) and I know this because of the incessant gunfire that occurs during the movie. Gunfire that doesn't allow me to drift peacefully off to sleep. Finally at 6:30 I ask nicely, "Honey, next time I come out here, you don't have to come with me" Meaning, I am still tired, this baby feel like she weighs 90 pounds and is sitting on my pelvic bone, I can hardly get up off the couch without your help, and I cannot believe you turned on the TV and kept me awake with a dumb made for TV movie about a man named Harley Davidson and his companion The Marlboro Man. He didn't want me to have to be alone in the living room. Such a sweetie! But really, thanks anyway - I'll pass next time. LOL. I'm so lucky he's sweet and supportive 99.9% of the time. This morning was an oversight. At 6am I was not amused, but at almost 5pm, I'm smiling and laughing at the story.
real Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy
I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is
they don't want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff,
then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, "What
was THAT?!"
If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe
you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey,
free dummy.
If you lose your job, your marriage, and your mind all in one week, try to lose your mind first, because then the other stuff won't matter that much.
I have to say, I got one of his books for my 16th birthday and I still laugh like a lunatic when I read them. So, anyway, on with the update.
We went to the doctor Thursday and I have to say, things are changing at this stage of the game. After the routine blood pressure, listen for the heartbeat, get my weight, the nurse starts digging in some drawers for some "instruments". They are enclosed in plastic and I'm realizing that this visit is going to be different. And I'm not exactly pleased. So I ask her what we will be doing today and she said that I will be having my cervix examined. Start adrenaline rush here. She smiles and leaves (she really is one of my favorite nurses, but I am a bit neurotic and am only able to concentrate on what the good doctor will find). You see, I have been saying that I am ready to have this baby and meet her and hold her and while I mean all of these things, I am now suddenly acutely aware that I am indeed not ready and if he tells me I have started to dilate, I think I will fall off of the pseudo bed. So I'm sitting as nicely as possible on the pseudo table complete with the drape around me to make me more modest. Then I realize that the backside of me is not covered by the lovely drape and move quickly to cover all things me that are not meant for everyone to see. This apparently makes Jeff laugh as he asks why I don't want the hallway to see my naked hiney. So now I'm covered, sitting on the dumb table bed and I keep looking to the shrink wrapped instruments on the counter. Not wanting to get up and disturb my strategically placed drape, I tell Jeff to get up and look at what is on the counter. "Some sort of CSI looking swab" is what he comes up with. What are they doing to me? Is this a trick PAP Smear? What is going on. The heart rate continues to go up. Before I can either calm myself down or jack myself up any farther, the good doctor comes in. All smiles. Yeah, he hasn't been staring down some shrink wrapped instruments for 15 minutes. I'm not good at the unknown if you can't tell. :-)
On with my antics...er story. So apparently the swab is not for Gil Grissom, but rather to test to see if I have Group B Strep. This is apparently not completely uncommon and is not harmful to me, but is severely harmful to the baby. If it is positive, I am not to panic, because they will just give me an antibiotic when I'm in labor and that will protect Emma. Feeling better. Then he does the pelvic and then we're done.
He did not laugh at me this time. But he did ask me to make an appointment with the imaging center downstairs as he wants to go over the ultrasound and start making decisions. Will I go into labor? Will he decide she's too big and schedule a C-Section? All that remains to be seen as a result of the ultrasound. He did say that it was very possible that she was not a huge baby and that I was just big and would be able to have her naturally. Well, not NATURALLY, please pass the epidural, but I would not necessarily have to have surgery. Awake. In a hospital. All of which I would so be looking forward to. Sigh.
So we say our good byes (he will be out of town for the next week or so, so I do not have to come in next week.) Doctor vacation. Additional stress on me. Sweet Baby Emma, stay inside a bit longer please. As long as he's back when she is coming, we'll be just fine.
So down we go from the 4th floor to the 1st floor and into the imaging center. I thumb my nose at the blood drawing place across the hall and thank my stars that I'm done with that area. I smile at the women behind the counter and announce that I need to schedule an ultrasound in two weeks. The nurse smiles back (sort of) and says she doesn't have anything available in 2 weeks. I smile again, and say, "Oh, it doesn't have to be two weeks exactly from today - we can go forward or backward a day or two." I am so accommodating. Then she explains that she doesn't have anything open for 4-5 weeks. I quickly do some calculating and realize that this is past my due date. A bit anticlimactic, don't you think? I now look to Jeff like I don't understand now what to do and he quickly explains to the nurse that "my wife will be in labor by then!" Sweet Jeff. He can tell my anxiety level is going up and I can see it is affecting him as well. I turn back to the nurse as she laughs and says, "Look, what I'll do is schedule you for Thursday the 12th as a 'work in' which means that you get here at 7:30 am and your wait time will be anywhere from 30 minutes to 4 hours. My eyes glaze over at the mention of 4 hours and she quickly assures me that they will do their best and perhaps someone will oversleep and not make it for their 7:30 am appointment. She gives me the paper I will need to get in the door and Jeff and I head out to our car. I realize that I have no way to schedule an appointment with Dr Irwin "afterwards" because who knows how long I'll be sitting in the Imaging Center? I decide rather than head baaaack up to the 4th floor, I'll just call the nurses directly tomorrow and work it out with them. I have a fake appointment at 11:30 but the nurse said whenever I'm done - be it before or after just come upstairs and they'd work me in. I'm going to be getting worked in all over the place on the 12th. But all in all, I'm starting to go back to my "just get her out" feelings. Which brings me to this morning.
I wake up at 4 something and have to visit the little cowgirl's room. Apparently, Jeff has the same idea and he gets up as well. We meet back in the bedroom and I tell him the thought of trying to get back into bed distressed me (Under normal - read NOT PREGNANT - circumstances, I like to sleep like a princess. Like down feather beds, down pillows, down comforter, the bed is up 6 inches higher than your bed probably is and I love it. My mamma told us that our beds were a safe place to be and that it was a wonderful place. Perhaps I didn't like to go to bed as a child, but it worked. I love my bed. Normally. I've taken off the feather bed and need Jeff's help to "pull" me in at night.) My right ear is going to look like I've spent time training for UFC because I can only sleep on my right side and I wake up with it sore. Trying to flip to my left side is a feat better left for someone more agile and plus, the fan can't blow on my face and I get too hot. So I tell Jeff I'm going to go out to the living room and set up shop on the couch. He says he'll come with me. Sweet husband. He gets me situated on my left side on the couch (ah relief already) and settles down into the big chair for some sleep. I thought. He asks if I mind if he turns on the TV. No problem, I fall asleep to it all the time. He then carefully lowers the volume and selects the Academy Award winning movie, Harley Davidson and The Marlboro Man. Seriously? There is a movie named that??? Aaaand it's about robbing an armored van (or something along those lines) and I know this because of the incessant gunfire that occurs during the movie. Gunfire that doesn't allow me to drift peacefully off to sleep. Finally at 6:30 I ask nicely, "Honey, next time I come out here, you don't have to come with me" Meaning, I am still tired, this baby feel like she weighs 90 pounds and is sitting on my pelvic bone, I can hardly get up off the couch without your help, and I cannot believe you turned on the TV and kept me awake with a dumb made for TV movie about a man named Harley Davidson and his companion The Marlboro Man. He didn't want me to have to be alone in the living room. Such a sweetie! But really, thanks anyway - I'll pass next time. LOL. I'm so lucky he's sweet and supportive 99.9% of the time. This morning was an oversight. At 6am I was not amused, but at almost 5pm, I'm smiling and laughing at the story.
Friday, May 30, 2008
My Pity Party - No RSVP Needed
I had a doctor's appointment yesterday and I'll post more about that later, but right now I'm having a pity party. Anyone want to come? My cousin is getting married tonight in Maine and I'm obviously not going to be there. My mom just called me with all sorts of details - what the tables look like (Meg's doing pink and brown, so you KNOW I'm loving the decorations!) and the centerpieces. Who is helping to decorate, and what every little thing looks like. She's a great sport to try to make me feel like I'm not really missing it. I'm reminded of the Little House On The Prairie books when Mary gets Scarlett Fever and goes blind and Laura has to be her sister's eyes when they go on their first train ride. She describes everything for her sister so that Mary will experience all the scenery that Laura does. I hope Mom isn't wearing one of those bonnets right now, though...
But I can hear my aunts and uncles in the background cutting up and laughing (no matter what Uncle Brian says, I DON'T think it's raining and I DON'T think they are having a miserable time. But nice try. So because I'm jealous that everyone is there having fun and will get to experience the blessed union of my sweet cousin and her precious husband to be, I'm having a pity party. No RSVP is needed. My party colors will NOT be pink and brown. I think I'll go for an orange and purple theme. Matching cups and plates, and some fabulous big chocolate cake. Who wants to come? Any takers?
I'll just sit here at my desk at work in 187 degree weather and tell myself that I'm having just as much fun.
But I can hear my aunts and uncles in the background cutting up and laughing (no matter what Uncle Brian says, I DON'T think it's raining and I DON'T think they are having a miserable time. But nice try. So because I'm jealous that everyone is there having fun and will get to experience the blessed union of my sweet cousin and her precious husband to be, I'm having a pity party. No RSVP is needed. My party colors will NOT be pink and brown. I think I'll go for an orange and purple theme. Matching cups and plates, and some fabulous big chocolate cake. Who wants to come? Any takers?
I'll just sit here at my desk at work in 187 degree weather and tell myself that I'm having just as much fun.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Cloth Diapers and Other "Notions"
OK, so Jeff and I are planning on doing cloth diapers. Whatever, you think I'm weird, or crazy, or just plain insane. That's fine. I'm not offended. I happen to like the concept of saving money and those diapers are so cute! Plus with everything I'm reading regarding diaper rash and other things associated with disposables I'm willing to try it.
OK, that small soapbox aside, I want to clarify that I am not one of those typical tree hugging cloth diapering mommies. I suppose I should include some sort of disclaimer that reads if you are one of the mommies I will discuss below, I am sure you are a great person, I, however, disagree with some of your views. Now, one of the things I knew going into cloth diapering was that TYPICALLY those who use cloth tend to favor home births. And midwives. And doulas. (which I had never even heard of until I went to my college roommate's baby shower. I came home with a new vocabulary and was also exposed to the benefits of cloth diapering.) I, for one, want an epidural and plenty of it. My sister in law has instructed her brother that his main job at the hospital (other than getting me take out so I don't have to east hospital food) is to make sure that my epidural doesn't wear off. Easy enough. But back to my story. So along with home births, nursing until the child is in high school (OK, so not really that old, but you get it) is also a big push with these women. Hey, I think if the child can come up and ask for a drink, THAT'S TOO OLD!! I'm all for nursing and plan to do it but you will not see me at kindergarten graduation giving my child a drink. Just my humble opinion.
So knowing these two "lifestyles" that tend to go along with cloth diapering, I enlisted the help of my mother to go with me to a cloth diapering store here in Houston. That was an event all in itself and full of the above mentioned women. - Just a funny side note - one woman there who was very nice and was very excited to pass along the name of her midwife and lactation consultant (Is that like Creative Memories or Close To My Heart consultants??) showed us her diapering techniques. It was very helpful. We also noticed that she only spoke to her baby in French. hmmm. Then when I told her I was giving birth at Women's (obviously not the preapproved "home birth in a bath tub") she launched into this diatribe about how she was so sorry and that Women's gives everyone C-Sections and how horrible that is and yadda yadda yadda. When Mamma and I got back in the car we had to take a moment and debrief each other as to what had transpired. Where was Rod Serling???
But I was doing some research today on the Internet for cloth diapers and have stumbled upon yet more "lifestyle" choices that seem to go hand in hand with cloth diapering. I am becoming afraid. Apparently women who tend to make these choices also tend to favor home schooling, the entire family sleeping in the same bed, not giving children vaccines, no spanking "hands are not for hitting", not circumcising babies, and nursing in the "family bed". I have to be honest with you. I'm a little freaked out by these things. Not all of them, mind you (obviously I'm on board with the cloth and I do know several people who home school and while I don't think I could do it - that's their business. Just don't judge me for planning on going the *gasp* public school route. I figure I'm already paying for it, right?), but all of them combined are a little too "Earth Mamma" for me. I'm treading lightly as I do not want to offend anyone, but I'm a little concerned that the Nursing Nazis and the other women will swarm me if and when I travel out to the cloth diaper store. Perhaps I will keep my diapering purchases to Internet sites. That is definitely a thought.
Just for fun, these are some of the icons I found while visiting a message board, and, thus, the inspiration for the blog. I had to edit a few of them so they would be more appropriate. :-)
I'm realizing they are a bit small, so I will try to clarify.
The first is a house that says "Home Birth". eeww. As I mentioned to one of my sister in laws at my shower, WHO CLEANS UP??
Then we have the co sleeping icon. I guess you should all sleep together - mommy, daddy, brother, sister, etc. Yeah, no. I like my space. Even with a king sized bed, I need my space.
Yeah, the next was edited for content. It's the "Pro Nursing In The Family Bed" icon. *shakes head*
Then we have the pro sling icon. I actually registered for one of these and am curious to try it out. But little Emma will not be strapped to me 24-7. A girl's gotta have her space, ya know?
OK, then it's the i heart home school icon, the pro breastfeeding icon, No Vaccines or Circumcisions, yay for cloth diapers, oh and an animated one that is a hand with a heart in the center of the palm. That quickly gives way to the message, "hands are not for hitting". We then have yet another breastfeeding icon (again, edited for content) and the last one. I have to tell you, even though it is "animated" it was still a bit disturbing. The mom sits there while a child runs up, lifts her shirt, gets a snack, puts the shirt down, and runs away. I am disturbed not only by most of these practices, but that someone has taken the time to create icons for each of these. Here's the deal people. Do your thing. Do it proudly even. Just don't shove it down my throat and "make" me try to follow your beliefs. And we'll just politely do our things and just not talk about it.
OK, that small soapbox aside, I want to clarify that I am not one of those typical tree hugging cloth diapering mommies. I suppose I should include some sort of disclaimer that reads if you are one of the mommies I will discuss below, I am sure you are a great person, I, however, disagree with some of your views. Now, one of the things I knew going into cloth diapering was that TYPICALLY those who use cloth tend to favor home births. And midwives. And doulas. (which I had never even heard of until I went to my college roommate's baby shower. I came home with a new vocabulary and was also exposed to the benefits of cloth diapering.) I, for one, want an epidural and plenty of it. My sister in law has instructed her brother that his main job at the hospital (other than getting me take out so I don't have to east hospital food) is to make sure that my epidural doesn't wear off. Easy enough. But back to my story. So along with home births, nursing until the child is in high school (OK, so not really that old, but you get it) is also a big push with these women. Hey, I think if the child can come up and ask for a drink, THAT'S TOO OLD!! I'm all for nursing and plan to do it but you will not see me at kindergarten graduation giving my child a drink. Just my humble opinion.
So knowing these two "lifestyles" that tend to go along with cloth diapering, I enlisted the help of my mother to go with me to a cloth diapering store here in Houston. That was an event all in itself and full of the above mentioned women. - Just a funny side note - one woman there who was very nice and was very excited to pass along the name of her midwife and lactation consultant (Is that like Creative Memories or Close To My Heart consultants??) showed us her diapering techniques. It was very helpful. We also noticed that she only spoke to her baby in French. hmmm. Then when I told her I was giving birth at Women's (obviously not the preapproved "home birth in a bath tub") she launched into this diatribe about how she was so sorry and that Women's gives everyone C-Sections and how horrible that is and yadda yadda yadda. When Mamma and I got back in the car we had to take a moment and debrief each other as to what had transpired. Where was Rod Serling???
But I was doing some research today on the Internet for cloth diapers and have stumbled upon yet more "lifestyle" choices that seem to go hand in hand with cloth diapering. I am becoming afraid. Apparently women who tend to make these choices also tend to favor home schooling, the entire family sleeping in the same bed, not giving children vaccines, no spanking "hands are not for hitting", not circumcising babies, and nursing in the "family bed". I have to be honest with you. I'm a little freaked out by these things. Not all of them, mind you (obviously I'm on board with the cloth and I do know several people who home school and while I don't think I could do it - that's their business. Just don't judge me for planning on going the *gasp* public school route. I figure I'm already paying for it, right?), but all of them combined are a little too "Earth Mamma" for me. I'm treading lightly as I do not want to offend anyone, but I'm a little concerned that the Nursing Nazis and the other women will swarm me if and when I travel out to the cloth diaper store. Perhaps I will keep my diapering purchases to Internet sites. That is definitely a thought.
Just for fun, these are some of the icons I found while visiting a message board, and, thus, the inspiration for the blog. I had to edit a few of them so they would be more appropriate. :-)
I'm realizing they are a bit small, so I will try to clarify.
The first is a house that says "Home Birth". eeww. As I mentioned to one of my sister in laws at my shower, WHO CLEANS UP??
Then we have the co sleeping icon. I guess you should all sleep together - mommy, daddy, brother, sister, etc. Yeah, no. I like my space. Even with a king sized bed, I need my space.
Yeah, the next was edited for content. It's the "Pro Nursing In The Family Bed" icon. *shakes head*
Then we have the pro sling icon. I actually registered for one of these and am curious to try it out. But little Emma will not be strapped to me 24-7. A girl's gotta have her space, ya know?
OK, then it's the i heart home school icon, the pro breastfeeding icon, No Vaccines or Circumcisions, yay for cloth diapers, oh and an animated one that is a hand with a heart in the center of the palm. That quickly gives way to the message, "hands are not for hitting". We then have yet another breastfeeding icon (again, edited for content) and the last one. I have to tell you, even though it is "animated" it was still a bit disturbing. The mom sits there while a child runs up, lifts her shirt, gets a snack, puts the shirt down, and runs away. I am disturbed not only by most of these practices, but that someone has taken the time to create icons for each of these. Here's the deal people. Do your thing. Do it proudly even. Just don't shove it down my throat and "make" me try to follow your beliefs. And we'll just politely do our things and just not talk about it.
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