Chuckles came home from school the other day a little sad, maybe even a bit teary. He doesn’t know the cool naughty words that other kids do (since he doesn’t have older siblings or much TV exposure). He feels a little left out. I’m sure #3 will know all the cool naughty words (and teach them to the other kids whose parents will then hate me).
Since he didn't know the naughty word, he was saying that word meant something (which it really does). He didn't get the "joke". He doesn't have the social skills yet to just blow it off and fake like he gets it and go along for a little while.
Because the slang word he didn't know was male anatomy-related, I put his father in charge. I will talk about respect for women and not objectifying them by body part. Dad can discuss what are approrpriate slang words for the locker room.
Today, The Tribune had an article called "What to do when your kid says they ate lunch alone and had no one to play with at recess". This is one of the best parenting articles I have read for the 6-9 year old set. I'm out of my depth with these "Big Kid" problems.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Fine
"Fine." That's what the doctor said. Muse is "fine".
I was also told that it's crowded in there. And it is. There is placenta everywhere. Seriously, it is amazing how the entire left side of my uterus is filled with placenta (and there is confusion over whether it is a two-lobed placenta or two separate placentas (placenta spuria, in case you were wondering)...I have no idea how I could have two placentas since there is only one umbillical cord (I guess that's why it's a spurious placenta), but the MFM is requesting the pathology report from the placenta after the birth because he's "curious"...not concerned, just curious). Adding to the crowded conditions, Muse is already about 6 pounds with 5 weeks to go. Do the math. If I go to term, that's about 8.5 to 11 pounds depending on rate of weight gain. I am guessing 8 lbs 8 ounces at 39 weeks 3 days. Also, there are 14 centimeters of pockets of amniotic fluid.
There was some confusion about why we were there. We believed we were there to re-scan the heart, which was supposedly subjectively enlarged. The ultrasound tech had looked through our chart and was doing a growth scan because often babies with the specific soft markers we had at 21 weeks suffer from IUGR. He was scanning to make sure growth was good. (And I would say 95th percentile for head, femur, and abdominal circumference is good). The MFM doctor said that the heart was fine in the last ultrasound, he wasn't concerned about the growth, but that he had seen something in the brain last time that had him concerned. Normal ventricles can be up to 10 mm. Muse's were 9.4 mm, so he wanted to re-scan to see what happened. They are now 7-ish millimeters, so no harm, no foul. High-normal...we are to report this to the pediatrician after birth, but MFM doesn't see it as an issue. I looked at the 29 week ultrasound photos. I think someone was a little sloppy with the measurement cursor. I measure things on microscope pictures all the time and you need to place your little cross pretty precisely to get an accurate measurement. And when it counts, we usually do it three times and average the three (and sometimes will have a second person do three measurements to see whether they agree). Personally, having looked at the images, I don't think it was 9.4 mm anyway. I'd guess less. Something in the 8s.
I guess if we had to be all confused, I am glad I thought it was something with the heart and not something with the brain. I think I can handle heart issues better than brain issues. The good news is we left the ultrasound without needing to schedule a follow-up with anyone (neurosurgeon, MFM again, genetic counselor, etc). Relief, of a kind. Obviously there is no way to know for sure that everything is OK (or OK enough) until ... you know....whenever it is that you stop worrying about your kids (so never), but I'm a little more relaxed now.
Today is my birthday. I am 36 now officially. I was 6 lbs 10 ounces when I was born 36 years ago, but my mom was a smoker. I think my true birth weight would have been closer to 8 lbs 5 ounces had my mom not smoked. My older sister was 7 lbs 11 oz (when my mom was not smoking). Usually your second same gendered child is an average of 10 ounces heavier than your first. Ergo, I should have been 8 lbs 5 ounces. By that same logic, Bobo should have been 8 lbs 13 ounces (but was 8 lbs 2 ounces since he was delivered early due to placenta previa). Poor, tiny Bobo. So growth restricted and born early and tiny. Hee hee. Not. I still think of him as my big baby since he didn't lose nearly as much weight as Chuckles did after birth.
Anyway, that's what's up.
I was also told that it's crowded in there. And it is. There is placenta everywhere. Seriously, it is amazing how the entire left side of my uterus is filled with placenta (and there is confusion over whether it is a two-lobed placenta or two separate placentas (placenta spuria, in case you were wondering)...I have no idea how I could have two placentas since there is only one umbillical cord (I guess that's why it's a spurious placenta), but the MFM is requesting the pathology report from the placenta after the birth because he's "curious"...not concerned, just curious). Adding to the crowded conditions, Muse is already about 6 pounds with 5 weeks to go. Do the math. If I go to term, that's about 8.5 to 11 pounds depending on rate of weight gain. I am guessing 8 lbs 8 ounces at 39 weeks 3 days. Also, there are 14 centimeters of pockets of amniotic fluid.
There was some confusion about why we were there. We believed we were there to re-scan the heart, which was supposedly subjectively enlarged. The ultrasound tech had looked through our chart and was doing a growth scan because often babies with the specific soft markers we had at 21 weeks suffer from IUGR. He was scanning to make sure growth was good. (And I would say 95th percentile for head, femur, and abdominal circumference is good). The MFM doctor said that the heart was fine in the last ultrasound, he wasn't concerned about the growth, but that he had seen something in the brain last time that had him concerned. Normal ventricles can be up to 10 mm. Muse's were 9.4 mm, so he wanted to re-scan to see what happened. They are now 7-ish millimeters, so no harm, no foul. High-normal...we are to report this to the pediatrician after birth, but MFM doesn't see it as an issue. I looked at the 29 week ultrasound photos. I think someone was a little sloppy with the measurement cursor. I measure things on microscope pictures all the time and you need to place your little cross pretty precisely to get an accurate measurement. And when it counts, we usually do it three times and average the three (and sometimes will have a second person do three measurements to see whether they agree). Personally, having looked at the images, I don't think it was 9.4 mm anyway. I'd guess less. Something in the 8s.
I guess if we had to be all confused, I am glad I thought it was something with the heart and not something with the brain. I think I can handle heart issues better than brain issues. The good news is we left the ultrasound without needing to schedule a follow-up with anyone (neurosurgeon, MFM again, genetic counselor, etc). Relief, of a kind. Obviously there is no way to know for sure that everything is OK (or OK enough) until ... you know....whenever it is that you stop worrying about your kids (so never), but I'm a little more relaxed now.
Today is my birthday. I am 36 now officially. I was 6 lbs 10 ounces when I was born 36 years ago, but my mom was a smoker. I think my true birth weight would have been closer to 8 lbs 5 ounces had my mom not smoked. My older sister was 7 lbs 11 oz (when my mom was not smoking). Usually your second same gendered child is an average of 10 ounces heavier than your first. Ergo, I should have been 8 lbs 5 ounces. By that same logic, Bobo should have been 8 lbs 13 ounces (but was 8 lbs 2 ounces since he was delivered early due to placenta previa). Poor, tiny Bobo. So growth restricted and born early and tiny. Hee hee. Not. I still think of him as my big baby since he didn't lose nearly as much weight as Chuckles did after birth.
Anyway, that's what's up.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Romance
Happy Valentine's Day.
In honor of the forced romance of today, Mr. Long-Suffering and I are spending the afternoon in a darkened room - together. With an ultrasound technician. This afternoon is the follow-up to the follow-up ultrasound with the high-risk people at the University of Chicago. I am hoping for uneventful. Is that too much to ask for? (Or grammatically, is that too much for which to ask?)
I haven't mentioned much on the blog about how I feel about this pregnancy, but I am trying to get attached to Muse and yet, for some reason, I keep thinking that I am not getting a take-home baby out of this. Certainly, I've had DBTs before, but these are so persistent that it's disconcerting. However, I continue to go through the motions of washing and sorting clothes, purchasing diapers (but not opening the packages), getting the nursing supplies gathered onto the table in the nursery, etc. It's that old "fake it until you make it" thing. I'm trying.
I also haven't mentioned much about Muse's chromosomes since I don't know anything more, and I don't know whether I will know anything additional about them before he is born. The whole pre-term labor scare thing and 5 weeks of absolute horribleness that followed really shook the genetic fears right out of me. Prematurity was scarier than Down Syndrome to me, so I just sort of let it slide. I, of course, still worry that Muse might have something wrong with his heart (which is why we're going for the fetal echocardiogram today...along with regular ultrasound), but I'm not nearly as fearful now as I was 7 weeks ago.
In other news, I developed two new pregnancy symptoms that are un-fun: vertigo and swelling (neither of the caliber to have us worrying about pre-eclampsia). The vertigo is only if I move my head certain ways (like rolling over in bed, getting from laying to standing, or checking my blind spot while driving). The swelling is the typical feet and hands (notsomuch face, though there is a definite chipmunking of the cheeks) plus swelling of my lady regions (probably because I carry so low...in fact, if you know where a bikini cut c-section scar is, I start carrying about 1" below that).
In honor of the forced romance of today, Mr. Long-Suffering and I are spending the afternoon in a darkened room - together. With an ultrasound technician. This afternoon is the follow-up to the follow-up ultrasound with the high-risk people at the University of Chicago. I am hoping for uneventful. Is that too much to ask for? (Or grammatically, is that too much for which to ask?)
I haven't mentioned much on the blog about how I feel about this pregnancy, but I am trying to get attached to Muse and yet, for some reason, I keep thinking that I am not getting a take-home baby out of this. Certainly, I've had DBTs before, but these are so persistent that it's disconcerting. However, I continue to go through the motions of washing and sorting clothes, purchasing diapers (but not opening the packages), getting the nursing supplies gathered onto the table in the nursery, etc. It's that old "fake it until you make it" thing. I'm trying.
I also haven't mentioned much about Muse's chromosomes since I don't know anything more, and I don't know whether I will know anything additional about them before he is born. The whole pre-term labor scare thing and 5 weeks of absolute horribleness that followed really shook the genetic fears right out of me. Prematurity was scarier than Down Syndrome to me, so I just sort of let it slide. I, of course, still worry that Muse might have something wrong with his heart (which is why we're going for the fetal echocardiogram today...along with regular ultrasound), but I'm not nearly as fearful now as I was 7 weeks ago.
In other news, I developed two new pregnancy symptoms that are un-fun: vertigo and swelling (neither of the caliber to have us worrying about pre-eclampsia). The vertigo is only if I move my head certain ways (like rolling over in bed, getting from laying to standing, or checking my blind spot while driving). The swelling is the typical feet and hands (notsomuch face, though there is a definite chipmunking of the cheeks) plus swelling of my lady regions (probably because I carry so low...in fact, if you know where a bikini cut c-section scar is, I start carrying about 1" below that).
Monkey went missing before bedtime last night. That’s a tragedy, but we avoided tears at bedtime. Monkey was still missing this morning. Chuckles said it’s in supernanny's car. Supernanny looked. Not there. Eventually Chuckles says….oh, he’s in the closet. Goes, gets him in 2 seconds, and Bobo is thrilled (tears were imminent). Why oh why couldn’t he have done that last night??? (Monkey was a gift given to Bobo from Chuckles on his first day of life...Grandma had taken Chuckles to Target and this is what he brought to the hospital.)
In honor of Valentine’s Day, Hair Nation played GnR's “Used to Love Her” this morning. Totally apropos, right?
My girl scout cookies arrived. Wish me strength.
Chuckles competed in the Pinewood Derby for the first-time ever. Bobo insisted on calling it the Penguin Derby, which was adorable. Bobo and I didn't go. We elected to stay home and go to sleep at a decent hour (Bobo's sleep has drifted into statistically significant bedtime shenanigans and night-time wakings). Chuckles did not win, but he did fine, and best of all, my competitive little jerk (I say with love) was a gracious loser. That is one of the most important things I want him to learn in Cub Scouts and life.
I made pancakes and stamped them with Star Wars cookie cutters. Am winner mother - even if I don't know a Death Star from an X-wing Fighter (though I think the X-wing is actually shaped like an X). I am not sure who was more excited about these pancakes - husband or children. Also, served them with homemade fruit syrup that I canned on Saturday (nesting much?).
Sacrilegiously, whenever I hear "May the force be with you," I want to follow it up by saying, "And also with you."
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
49ers
And I’m not talking football.
Although, there was this really big game that happens at the end of the season. It’s the Great Bowl. No, the Fantastic Bowl. No, the Roman Numeral Bowl. No, the Super Bowl (duh duh duh dun). And I like football. Yet, I did not care at all about who won or lost. The one QB is married to a fricken super model and the other one comes from a seemingly nice family of football players. And I still didn’t really care.
I went to a party, discovered I am a terribly picky eater who doesn’t like football food, watched most of the game, did a Sudoku and a crossword puzzle, watched the commercials and half-time showstravaganza, came home, and had cereal. I don’t care for brats and wings. In my defense, had there been chili, I would have been all over that. I had some bean salad, guacamole, and positioned myself near the cheese tray.
My in-laws celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. Congrats to them. I don’t know whether I will live long enough to see my own 40th, but it’s only 30 years from now. We took the whole family (all of their progeny) out for dinner to celebrate their milestone. All 4.78 of their grandsons were there (our 2.78 boys plus the two boy cousins). The kids behaved at the fancy restaurant, but we came home for dessert (ice cream cake!) to keep our in-restaurant time down.
Speaking of my 0.78 boy, he’s actually 0.8735 of a kid now. I’m about 33.5 weeks. At my last routine ob appointment, I had only gained a pound in the previous 3 weeks. Considering the baby put on about a pound in that time, I felt pretty good about that. While at the ob, I also confirmed that I do not need to sign any papers in advance to get my tubes tied while they are in there performing their baby-ectomy. It seems awfully permanent, but since we don’t want any more kids and I have yet to find a birth control method that I like for nursing, it’s a go. (For the record, there are several forms of birth control that I LOVE while not nursing.)
I received a gift for Christmas, but I hadn’t felt good enough to use it until last weekend. I went to the spa and received a pre-natal massage. If you ever find yourself knocked up, I highly recommend it. They have a special insert for the table with a hole in it so you can lay on your stomach while they massage your (very tired) back. I would pay good money just to lay on their table let alone have someone massage me. One small problem: I could not figure out how to get up when it was done. I really needed to push myself up on my arms and yet there was no where to put my hands. Eventually, I figured it out and escaped.
I have a variety of mild peculiarities. You could call them little minor OCD things, except they’re so minor, they’re more like quirks.
If you were to overlay my footpath every day from the time I enter the factory on the access road until I sit at my desk, it would be the exact same number of steps and route every single day. I park in the same spot, remove my lunch, purse, and laptop from the car using the same hands in the same way every day, enter the building through the same door, take the same path to my desk, put the computer in the docking station, lay my coat on the chair, grab my tea cup and tea bag (and swish it in the 7/8 hot water the same number of times, then fill it 1/8 of the way with cold water to get the perfect temperature), every day.
I am similarly ritualistic with other aspects of my day. I have had my maternity leave fill-in here as trainee for the last few weeks trying to learn my job. He is throwing me all off of my rhythm. He unstapled papers that I had stapled (at a perfect 45-degree angle, mind you). He did not remove the staple. He just ripped them apart. He does not print documents 2 pages per sheet, double sided. I’m so unmoored listing in the rough waters of person invading my space.
And I realize that my quirks are a little…obsessive. It just bothers me so much when he messes my things up (and I have to come back to this when I return). I mean, I staple things so that they stay together when I put them in my awesome filing system. Do not mess with the filing system. The filing system is the reason if you ask me what happened on August 3rd, I can tell you within a few minutes. Also, I never delete an email with any information in it. I have an elaborate filing system and am just a wee bit neurotic about flushing my inbox. In fact, I only have 282 items in my inbox right now. Considering that I receive in excess of 300 emails per day at work, I would say that’s not too bad. Trainee guy doesn’t save email, doesn’t have any personal folders or rules to handle email. Honestly, I have no idea how he survives. He watched me answer a few questions wherein I went to my 2009 email folder, subfolder corporate policies, and pulled out an edict and answered a question. He was awed. I was ticked that he didn’t see the value in saving and filing things. For the future. So you don’t actually have to remember anything other than I heard about that once back in March of 2009.
Speaking of my quirks…I might as well lay it out there. I’m a rigid person who likes to have a way to handle her life. The illusion of control is comforting. I try to keep the skin on an orange in one piece when I peel it. I succeed about 1/3 of the time. On clementines, it’s closer to 90%.
I also have a weird thing about the visualization of time. I imagine the year as a wheel…almost like a clock. The new year is at the 6 o’clock position (and is very dark), July 1st is at 12 o’clock (and is bright white or yellow). A lot of times when someone is asking a question, I remember that we last discussed this around the 10 o’clock position (forward and to the left) and getting lighter, so I can then go and find the file or email pertaining to this with the items from perhaps early May. I rarely remember what we said, but I can usually find my notes within a 2 week time period of when I remember discussing it. This might be some kind of synesthesia, but it’s not any kind of hindrance and probably makes me the life of the party. I just looked synesthesia up on Wikipedia for the first-time ever. Apparently, clock-face based associations are very common. So, very common. Not special at all.
In other news, Mr. Long-Suffering and I went to a professional society meeting last night. We work in the same industry but in different specialties. Let’s say we both worked in a hospital but one of us was in food service and the other in custodial. We would both work in health care but our professional societies would be different. We went to his society and heard a moving lecture on monetary policy. The laugh line of the night was a potshot at Illinois and its propensity for raising taxes without doing anything to control its spending. If you are not aware, Illinois is practically California or Italy (not as bad as Greece – yet). My college minor was actually in economics, and there was a slight political slant to the presentation, which happened to match pretty well with my politics, so overall, I enjoyed myself greatly. The speech was objectively very good as well. In fact, a banquet hall full of 300+ factory workers gave a standing ovation to a speech on monetary policy. That’s how you know it was a good talk. If the guy giving the speech wanted to run for elected office, he’d have a decent start to a stump speech. And his powerpoint slides were not too busy and the font was (for the most part) large enough to be seen in the cheap seats. I recapped the speech at work today and people were actually disappointed that they had not gone.
We arrived home from the meeting around 9:30 to lightly falling snow. And a still-awake Bobo. I gave him some time to see whether he was going to fall asleep, but eventually, I went and checked on him. “I’m huhn-gurry and I need to go potty.” So, that’s how I was exhausted, dressed up, and feeding Bobo string cheese and strawberries at 10:30 last night. Fortunately, despite years of early sleep troubles, Chuckles is able to sleep through all of this Bobo night-waking, new bed, new room shenanigans.
I just ate a Clementine. And I won when I peeled it! SarcastiCarrie is winning at life!
Oh, and the 49ers reference is a nod to the number of days until my due date when I went for my massage and someone asked my how much longer…49 days!
Although, there was this really big game that happens at the end of the season. It’s the Great Bowl. No, the Fantastic Bowl. No, the Roman Numeral Bowl. No, the Super Bowl (duh duh duh dun). And I like football. Yet, I did not care at all about who won or lost. The one QB is married to a fricken super model and the other one comes from a seemingly nice family of football players. And I still didn’t really care.
I went to a party, discovered I am a terribly picky eater who doesn’t like football food, watched most of the game, did a Sudoku and a crossword puzzle, watched the commercials and half-time showstravaganza, came home, and had cereal. I don’t care for brats and wings. In my defense, had there been chili, I would have been all over that. I had some bean salad, guacamole, and positioned myself near the cheese tray.
My in-laws celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. Congrats to them. I don’t know whether I will live long enough to see my own 40th, but it’s only 30 years from now. We took the whole family (all of their progeny) out for dinner to celebrate their milestone. All 4.78 of their grandsons were there (our 2.78 boys plus the two boy cousins). The kids behaved at the fancy restaurant, but we came home for dessert (ice cream cake!) to keep our in-restaurant time down.
Speaking of my 0.78 boy, he’s actually 0.8735 of a kid now. I’m about 33.5 weeks. At my last routine ob appointment, I had only gained a pound in the previous 3 weeks. Considering the baby put on about a pound in that time, I felt pretty good about that. While at the ob, I also confirmed that I do not need to sign any papers in advance to get my tubes tied while they are in there performing their baby-ectomy. It seems awfully permanent, but since we don’t want any more kids and I have yet to find a birth control method that I like for nursing, it’s a go. (For the record, there are several forms of birth control that I LOVE while not nursing.)
I received a gift for Christmas, but I hadn’t felt good enough to use it until last weekend. I went to the spa and received a pre-natal massage. If you ever find yourself knocked up, I highly recommend it. They have a special insert for the table with a hole in it so you can lay on your stomach while they massage your (very tired) back. I would pay good money just to lay on their table let alone have someone massage me. One small problem: I could not figure out how to get up when it was done. I really needed to push myself up on my arms and yet there was no where to put my hands. Eventually, I figured it out and escaped.
I have a variety of mild peculiarities. You could call them little minor OCD things, except they’re so minor, they’re more like quirks.
If you were to overlay my footpath every day from the time I enter the factory on the access road until I sit at my desk, it would be the exact same number of steps and route every single day. I park in the same spot, remove my lunch, purse, and laptop from the car using the same hands in the same way every day, enter the building through the same door, take the same path to my desk, put the computer in the docking station, lay my coat on the chair, grab my tea cup and tea bag (and swish it in the 7/8 hot water the same number of times, then fill it 1/8 of the way with cold water to get the perfect temperature), every day.
I am similarly ritualistic with other aspects of my day. I have had my maternity leave fill-in here as trainee for the last few weeks trying to learn my job. He is throwing me all off of my rhythm. He unstapled papers that I had stapled (at a perfect 45-degree angle, mind you). He did not remove the staple. He just ripped them apart. He does not print documents 2 pages per sheet, double sided. I’m so unmoored listing in the rough waters of person invading my space.
And I realize that my quirks are a little…obsessive. It just bothers me so much when he messes my things up (and I have to come back to this when I return). I mean, I staple things so that they stay together when I put them in my awesome filing system. Do not mess with the filing system. The filing system is the reason if you ask me what happened on August 3rd, I can tell you within a few minutes. Also, I never delete an email with any information in it. I have an elaborate filing system and am just a wee bit neurotic about flushing my inbox. In fact, I only have 282 items in my inbox right now. Considering that I receive in excess of 300 emails per day at work, I would say that’s not too bad. Trainee guy doesn’t save email, doesn’t have any personal folders or rules to handle email. Honestly, I have no idea how he survives. He watched me answer a few questions wherein I went to my 2009 email folder, subfolder corporate policies, and pulled out an edict and answered a question. He was awed. I was ticked that he didn’t see the value in saving and filing things. For the future. So you don’t actually have to remember anything other than I heard about that once back in March of 2009.
Speaking of my quirks…I might as well lay it out there. I’m a rigid person who likes to have a way to handle her life. The illusion of control is comforting. I try to keep the skin on an orange in one piece when I peel it. I succeed about 1/3 of the time. On clementines, it’s closer to 90%.
I also have a weird thing about the visualization of time. I imagine the year as a wheel…almost like a clock. The new year is at the 6 o’clock position (and is very dark), July 1st is at 12 o’clock (and is bright white or yellow). A lot of times when someone is asking a question, I remember that we last discussed this around the 10 o’clock position (forward and to the left) and getting lighter, so I can then go and find the file or email pertaining to this with the items from perhaps early May. I rarely remember what we said, but I can usually find my notes within a 2 week time period of when I remember discussing it. This might be some kind of synesthesia, but it’s not any kind of hindrance and probably makes me the life of the party. I just looked synesthesia up on Wikipedia for the first-time ever. Apparently, clock-face based associations are very common. So, very common. Not special at all.
In other news, Mr. Long-Suffering and I went to a professional society meeting last night. We work in the same industry but in different specialties. Let’s say we both worked in a hospital but one of us was in food service and the other in custodial. We would both work in health care but our professional societies would be different. We went to his society and heard a moving lecture on monetary policy. The laugh line of the night was a potshot at Illinois and its propensity for raising taxes without doing anything to control its spending. If you are not aware, Illinois is practically California or Italy (not as bad as Greece – yet). My college minor was actually in economics, and there was a slight political slant to the presentation, which happened to match pretty well with my politics, so overall, I enjoyed myself greatly. The speech was objectively very good as well. In fact, a banquet hall full of 300+ factory workers gave a standing ovation to a speech on monetary policy. That’s how you know it was a good talk. If the guy giving the speech wanted to run for elected office, he’d have a decent start to a stump speech. And his powerpoint slides were not too busy and the font was (for the most part) large enough to be seen in the cheap seats. I recapped the speech at work today and people were actually disappointed that they had not gone.
We arrived home from the meeting around 9:30 to lightly falling snow. And a still-awake Bobo. I gave him some time to see whether he was going to fall asleep, but eventually, I went and checked on him. “I’m huhn-gurry and I need to go potty.” So, that’s how I was exhausted, dressed up, and feeding Bobo string cheese and strawberries at 10:30 last night. Fortunately, despite years of early sleep troubles, Chuckles is able to sleep through all of this Bobo night-waking, new bed, new room shenanigans.
I just ate a Clementine. And I won when I peeled it! SarcastiCarrie is winning at life!
Oh, and the 49ers reference is a nod to the number of days until my due date when I went for my massage and someone asked my how much longer…49 days!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Rooms for Teeth?
Chuckles got his first 6-year molar and has another wiggly tooth up front (and the new tooth has already erupted behind it). There are big happenings in his mouth. I sense braces in our future. Are those expensive?
Bobo is (basically) potty-trained. I took a big box of diapers back to Target (wrong size, regardless and I have another big box still at home) and traded those size 5 diapers in on teeny weeny, tiny hiney diapers. Those up to 10-pounds diapers are awfully tiny. And so cute. And so little. And I bet they’re soft too since I got the really expensive* ones (not that cardboard sandpaper I had been making Bobo wear since he turned 3). But, I haven’t opened them yet because I do not invite the jinx into my home. I am far too smart and superstitious for that.
I have officially now declared myself all better from whatever the heck that was that laid me out like that. I was sleeping 11-12 hours a day, could not stand for more than 6 minutes, and was unable to walk more than about 200 feet without feeling like I would pass out. It took almost 4 weeks to recover. I had no fever and no other symptoms. I thought I might have just had easy pregnancies before and this is why some women don’t like being pregnant, but I recovered, so I am guessing there was something unusual going on. I was too weak most days after going to work and getting the kids in pajamas and off to bed that I hadn’t checked my email in weeks and hadn’t sent out thank you notes for Christmas gifts (if you know me, you know how horrible I felt about the no thank-yous). I couldn’t even stand up for showers. I sat for my showers (and then needed help getting up and out of the tub). But I am better now. Whew.
Mr. Long-Suffering, while picking up my slack and worrying about me, did remark that when I don’t leave the house (and am too tired and weak to sit at the computer), I don’t spend much money. He figured the good people at Discover Card would be calling to find out if I’m alright. On the upside, we did finally get groceries purchased and I made some really exciting purchases at Target (like tiny hiney diapers and stain remover! And toothpaste, deodorant, and a new Libman Wonder Mop mop head!). I have very little brand loyalty, but my Target list was very specific (Nads, Resolve, Totally Toddler stain remover (which they didn’t have so I bought Dreft stain spray), Libman mop head, and 20-Mule Team Borax). It’s the little things, apparently.
We took the kids to the Sibling Class at the hospital. The movie had been updated since we took Chuckles before Bobo was born (and a good thing too since I could have been the little kid in that movie..and now the movie has PIRATES. Everybody loves pirates.). Both kids enjoyed it, but they displayed their entirely different personalities. Chuckles sat back and observed the entire thing in a most detached fashion. Bobo jumped in when asked about whether there had been any changes at your house (his answer: “I got a new big boy bed that used to be Chuckles’s. Now I share a room wif my brudder. Mike the Painter came and painted my new room. Chuckles got a new bed. And I got a binky hook and a night light.”). One of the families in the class is expecting twins. Kids have no filter. Older son: “When my dad found out we were having two babies he was really shocked!” We all laughed, because yes, that is probably true. Then, he went on to detail all the changes that are happening at their house (lots of painting and organizing…possibly a small amount of panicking).
I know that my boys share a Y chromosome, but I am pretty sure they got all the opposite chromosomes for the other 45. They are so different. One has sandy blond hair, the other has white blond, one is fair-skinned, the other is more medium-to-olive, one has blue eyes, the other has green (though they used to be a crystal clear blue), one has narrow feet with toes that can be bent over to make a fist, the other has wide feet with toes that are all mashed together and don’t bend, one has a chin dimple, the other does not but has a cheek dimple, one has hair that tends toward wavy when it gets long, the other has the straight hair of his mother, one is outgoing, the other is more reserved, one eats veggies, fruit and carbs, the other is strictly meat, beef, and sausage, one is cautious and the other is not-so-much. I figure when they’re older and do things together, the outgoing one will make sure they have fun, but the cautious and reserved one will make sure they don’t get into trouble. It’s a nice combo.
As part of the big room re-org, everyone moved one bedroom counter-clockwise (or something). Mr. Long-Suffering and I gave up the master bedroom (which is only master because it’s largest…it’s not a master suite or anything and didn’t have a bathroom or a walk-in closet like today’s modern homes/McMansions). Both boys are now bunking in there (which has been painted a lovely shade of blue by Mike the Painter…as Bobo mentioned in the Sibling class). Mr. Long-Suffering and I took Bobo’s room, which for all intents and purposes was just the guest room with a crib and some nursery-themed wall clings. The nursery that we made before Chuckles was born is being converted back into a nursery. Chuckles had not wanted to give up his room before Bobo was born, and we didn’t make him so he had been living in the smallest bedroom.
Somehow, that smallest bedroom was also the dirtiest room in the house. We have hard wood floors throughout the upstairs, and if you know how that goes, you know about the dust rabbits I found under the bed and behind the dresser. Did you also know that I had to vacuum out the Zhu-Zhu pet habitat and had to vacuum each Zhu-rat because they were filthy and had been living under the bed? It turns out Chuckles also has a bad case of pack-ratism that I let get out of hand. I found one of my slippers, a missing puzzle piece, an empty apple sauce squeezer container (with cap on so it wasn’t really gross), 14 empty oatmeal canisters (each of which had been cut, colored, stickered, taped or otherwise turned into art, a project, an invention, or a craft with the addition of a paper towel core or some self-sticking foam), two bags-worth of paper recycling, countless strands of beads, plastic rings, fake teeth, super balls, and other goodie bag junk, Valentine cards from 3 years ago, some much-prized mulch, a few shells, and 15 labeled, washed and stacked yogurt containers. His treasures. He’s so going to wind up on Hoarders some day. I did the bulk of the trashing while he was at school on MLK Day. I had off; he had school. I have no idea where his stuff went, if he asks (which is true since I have no idea where it is now).
After the cleaning was done (or done enough to move the furniture), the boys set off for their first night ever of sharing a room/first night in a big boy bed. And it was a school night. But what are you going to do? After about 20 minutes, Chuckles came out of his room, “Bobo is talking to me and won’t let me sleep and is walking around.” So Bobo was put back in his bed, re-kissed and re-tucked, told to stay there, and then we built Chuckles a defensive wall of pillows so his brother can’t see him. It seems to be working (mostly). There have been a few extra night wanderings, but it’s within one standard deviation of the mean, so I’ll call it typical.
Last night, during The Letter Show (aka Wheel of Fortune), I hit the wrong button on the remote. Either that or that giant solar storm that hit yesterday did something to the TV, but I think my remote ineptness is more likely (at least I don’t have one of those Universal Remotes that could accidentally launch a Fail-Safe style nuclear war). Anyway, the screen went black and green letters came up and Bobo asked, “Why does that say ‘video’, and where did Vanna White go?” I was…stunned and not because he knew Vanna’s name. “Why do you think that says ‘video’?” “V-I-D-E-O. Video.” “OooooKay then. Let me get Pat and Vanna right back for you.” Also, if you ask him what he wants to name the baby, he will answer “James Ferguson” (a kid in Chuckles’s first grade class). This would make the Letter Show a lot more fun.
If you ask a variety of people in our lives what they want to name the baby, you will get a shocking variety of answers. Gilbert, Tiberius, John, Anthony, Tony the Shark, Zoltan (apparently the most popular boys’ name in Hungary?), James Ferguson, Munker, and Quayden (but pronounced like John because someone thinks she is funny).
My least favorite part of potty training? When the kid half-way wakes up in the middle of the night because he needs to pee, and starts whining/crying. You go in there, ask if he needs to go potty, he has no idea because he’s asleep and new to the whole pain=potty thing, you take him to the bathroom and as soon as you pull the (dry) diaper off, he pees on the rug and your pajamas pants (the only pair that fits your current girth).
Speaking of jammie bottoms…I just discovered that there is something called pajamas jeans. I am intrigued because I am lazy in many ways. But for forty bucks, I’ll just stay intrigued. I was really interested in Eggies (again because I am lazy...and love hand-boiled eggs), until I saw a real-mom review on GMA one morning before Christmas.
Before Bobo was born, I investigated maternity leave options and was delightfully and pleasantly surprised to find out that we received the two weeks prior to our due date, the 6-8 weeks of disability, followed by 12 weeks of FMLA that did not need to run concurrently with the disability. That gave me 22 weeks off. That’s practically 5 months. I was elated. I had seen an email go out about a year ago saying that we no longer get the two weeks before our due dates off. I was a little disappointed, but it seemed very generous to me at the time, so I figured that during these tough economic times, it made sense to eliminate that perq. You can take vacation for those two weeks or if you’re really miserable, get disability for pregnancy-related conditions (which change to birth-related conditions after birth). Or you can work up to your due date (and beyond). So, I filled out my paperwork for disability and FMLA to get my 20 weeks off (8 of disability plus 12 of FMLA) and was shocked when I got the paperwork back allowing 18 weeks. Nowadays, our disability insurance provider is only offering 6 weeks after a c-section. I’m speechless. That’s…just…I’ve had two c-sections before and am not generally walking upright at the 8 week time frame, let alone the 6 week. It usually takes me a good 9 weeks to feel mostly human again. I’m sure that if I were to have my doctor write a note saying that I was still disabled at 6 weeks, that I could get 8 weeks off of work, but really…the standard has changed? That’s just crazy-talk.
*I had coupons.
Bobo is (basically) potty-trained. I took a big box of diapers back to Target (wrong size, regardless and I have another big box still at home) and traded those size 5 diapers in on teeny weeny, tiny hiney diapers. Those up to 10-pounds diapers are awfully tiny. And so cute. And so little. And I bet they’re soft too since I got the really expensive* ones (not that cardboard sandpaper I had been making Bobo wear since he turned 3). But, I haven’t opened them yet because I do not invite the jinx into my home. I am far too smart and superstitious for that.
I have officially now declared myself all better from whatever the heck that was that laid me out like that. I was sleeping 11-12 hours a day, could not stand for more than 6 minutes, and was unable to walk more than about 200 feet without feeling like I would pass out. It took almost 4 weeks to recover. I had no fever and no other symptoms. I thought I might have just had easy pregnancies before and this is why some women don’t like being pregnant, but I recovered, so I am guessing there was something unusual going on. I was too weak most days after going to work and getting the kids in pajamas and off to bed that I hadn’t checked my email in weeks and hadn’t sent out thank you notes for Christmas gifts (if you know me, you know how horrible I felt about the no thank-yous). I couldn’t even stand up for showers. I sat for my showers (and then needed help getting up and out of the tub). But I am better now. Whew.
Mr. Long-Suffering, while picking up my slack and worrying about me, did remark that when I don’t leave the house (and am too tired and weak to sit at the computer), I don’t spend much money. He figured the good people at Discover Card would be calling to find out if I’m alright. On the upside, we did finally get groceries purchased and I made some really exciting purchases at Target (like tiny hiney diapers and stain remover! And toothpaste, deodorant, and a new Libman Wonder Mop mop head!). I have very little brand loyalty, but my Target list was very specific (Nads, Resolve, Totally Toddler stain remover (which they didn’t have so I bought Dreft stain spray), Libman mop head, and 20-Mule Team Borax). It’s the little things, apparently.
We took the kids to the Sibling Class at the hospital. The movie had been updated since we took Chuckles before Bobo was born (and a good thing too since I could have been the little kid in that movie..and now the movie has PIRATES. Everybody loves pirates.). Both kids enjoyed it, but they displayed their entirely different personalities. Chuckles sat back and observed the entire thing in a most detached fashion. Bobo jumped in when asked about whether there had been any changes at your house (his answer: “I got a new big boy bed that used to be Chuckles’s. Now I share a room wif my brudder. Mike the Painter came and painted my new room. Chuckles got a new bed. And I got a binky hook and a night light.”). One of the families in the class is expecting twins. Kids have no filter. Older son: “When my dad found out we were having two babies he was really shocked!” We all laughed, because yes, that is probably true. Then, he went on to detail all the changes that are happening at their house (lots of painting and organizing…possibly a small amount of panicking).
I know that my boys share a Y chromosome, but I am pretty sure they got all the opposite chromosomes for the other 45. They are so different. One has sandy blond hair, the other has white blond, one is fair-skinned, the other is more medium-to-olive, one has blue eyes, the other has green (though they used to be a crystal clear blue), one has narrow feet with toes that can be bent over to make a fist, the other has wide feet with toes that are all mashed together and don’t bend, one has a chin dimple, the other does not but has a cheek dimple, one has hair that tends toward wavy when it gets long, the other has the straight hair of his mother, one is outgoing, the other is more reserved, one eats veggies, fruit and carbs, the other is strictly meat, beef, and sausage, one is cautious and the other is not-so-much. I figure when they’re older and do things together, the outgoing one will make sure they have fun, but the cautious and reserved one will make sure they don’t get into trouble. It’s a nice combo.
As part of the big room re-org, everyone moved one bedroom counter-clockwise (or something). Mr. Long-Suffering and I gave up the master bedroom (which is only master because it’s largest…it’s not a master suite or anything and didn’t have a bathroom or a walk-in closet like today’s modern homes/McMansions). Both boys are now bunking in there (which has been painted a lovely shade of blue by Mike the Painter…as Bobo mentioned in the Sibling class). Mr. Long-Suffering and I took Bobo’s room, which for all intents and purposes was just the guest room with a crib and some nursery-themed wall clings. The nursery that we made before Chuckles was born is being converted back into a nursery. Chuckles had not wanted to give up his room before Bobo was born, and we didn’t make him so he had been living in the smallest bedroom.
Somehow, that smallest bedroom was also the dirtiest room in the house. We have hard wood floors throughout the upstairs, and if you know how that goes, you know about the dust rabbits I found under the bed and behind the dresser. Did you also know that I had to vacuum out the Zhu-Zhu pet habitat and had to vacuum each Zhu-rat because they were filthy and had been living under the bed? It turns out Chuckles also has a bad case of pack-ratism that I let get out of hand. I found one of my slippers, a missing puzzle piece, an empty apple sauce squeezer container (with cap on so it wasn’t really gross), 14 empty oatmeal canisters (each of which had been cut, colored, stickered, taped or otherwise turned into art, a project, an invention, or a craft with the addition of a paper towel core or some self-sticking foam), two bags-worth of paper recycling, countless strands of beads, plastic rings, fake teeth, super balls, and other goodie bag junk, Valentine cards from 3 years ago, some much-prized mulch, a few shells, and 15 labeled, washed and stacked yogurt containers. His treasures. He’s so going to wind up on Hoarders some day. I did the bulk of the trashing while he was at school on MLK Day. I had off; he had school. I have no idea where his stuff went, if he asks (which is true since I have no idea where it is now).
After the cleaning was done (or done enough to move the furniture), the boys set off for their first night ever of sharing a room/first night in a big boy bed. And it was a school night. But what are you going to do? After about 20 minutes, Chuckles came out of his room, “Bobo is talking to me and won’t let me sleep and is walking around.” So Bobo was put back in his bed, re-kissed and re-tucked, told to stay there, and then we built Chuckles a defensive wall of pillows so his brother can’t see him. It seems to be working (mostly). There have been a few extra night wanderings, but it’s within one standard deviation of the mean, so I’ll call it typical.
Last night, during The Letter Show (aka Wheel of Fortune), I hit the wrong button on the remote. Either that or that giant solar storm that hit yesterday did something to the TV, but I think my remote ineptness is more likely (at least I don’t have one of those Universal Remotes that could accidentally launch a Fail-Safe style nuclear war). Anyway, the screen went black and green letters came up and Bobo asked, “Why does that say ‘video’, and where did Vanna White go?” I was…stunned and not because he knew Vanna’s name. “Why do you think that says ‘video’?” “V-I-D-E-O. Video.” “OooooKay then. Let me get Pat and Vanna right back for you.” Also, if you ask him what he wants to name the baby, he will answer “James Ferguson” (a kid in Chuckles’s first grade class). This would make the Letter Show a lot more fun.
If you ask a variety of people in our lives what they want to name the baby, you will get a shocking variety of answers. Gilbert, Tiberius, John, Anthony, Tony the Shark, Zoltan (apparently the most popular boys’ name in Hungary?), James Ferguson, Munker, and Quayden (but pronounced like John because someone thinks she is funny).
My least favorite part of potty training? When the kid half-way wakes up in the middle of the night because he needs to pee, and starts whining/crying. You go in there, ask if he needs to go potty, he has no idea because he’s asleep and new to the whole pain=potty thing, you take him to the bathroom and as soon as you pull the (dry) diaper off, he pees on the rug and your pajamas pants (the only pair that fits your current girth).
Speaking of jammie bottoms…I just discovered that there is something called pajamas jeans. I am intrigued because I am lazy in many ways. But for forty bucks, I’ll just stay intrigued. I was really interested in Eggies (again because I am lazy...and love hand-boiled eggs), until I saw a real-mom review on GMA one morning before Christmas.
Before Bobo was born, I investigated maternity leave options and was delightfully and pleasantly surprised to find out that we received the two weeks prior to our due date, the 6-8 weeks of disability, followed by 12 weeks of FMLA that did not need to run concurrently with the disability. That gave me 22 weeks off. That’s practically 5 months. I was elated. I had seen an email go out about a year ago saying that we no longer get the two weeks before our due dates off. I was a little disappointed, but it seemed very generous to me at the time, so I figured that during these tough economic times, it made sense to eliminate that perq. You can take vacation for those two weeks or if you’re really miserable, get disability for pregnancy-related conditions (which change to birth-related conditions after birth). Or you can work up to your due date (and beyond). So, I filled out my paperwork for disability and FMLA to get my 20 weeks off (8 of disability plus 12 of FMLA) and was shocked when I got the paperwork back allowing 18 weeks. Nowadays, our disability insurance provider is only offering 6 weeks after a c-section. I’m speechless. That’s…just…I’ve had two c-sections before and am not generally walking upright at the 8 week time frame, let alone the 6 week. It usually takes me a good 9 weeks to feel mostly human again. I’m sure that if I were to have my doctor write a note saying that I was still disabled at 6 weeks, that I could get 8 weeks off of work, but really…the standard has changed? That’s just crazy-talk.
*I had coupons.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Beer
Here is the story of how the ultrasound played out with extraneous details removed, though I could tell you how our local radio station plays Two for Tuesday and it was George Thorogood or how we got to watch all of Access Hollywood (or whatever show it was) about Beyonce’s baby’s escape from the paparazzi while we waited over a half hour for our appointment.
We had the chatty tech. She’s also pregnant. I would guess it’s her first and a girl based on how she is carrying. She measured the cervix. All is good. It’s tipped or curved or something so a curved line measurement gives >5 cm. No imminent labor here. So that is really, super good news. I’ve been feeling better on the contraction front (though not on the energy front) and have been itching to do exotic things like go to the grocery store and climb stairs. I don’t think I am up for either of those activities yet, but it’s nice to know that if I do them and overdo it, I am probably not going in to labor. I finally did have enough energy to stand at the bathroom mirror and pluck my eyebrows. Three weeks. I can’t believe I went three weeks. It looked like caterpillars were inching their way toward each other.
After the cervix, she moved on to the placenta. It’s receiving good blood flow. The smaller lobe is anterior and the larger lobe is posterior. I don’t think that’s important; I’m just letting you know what I know.
Then she measured structures in the brain. Everything there is fine. She measured the head circumference and it’s fine. Then she did abdominal circumference. That is all fine too.
She went to the face. And the cutest thing happened, I nearly died. The baby yawned while the tech was in 3-D view of the face. And then? Muse fell asleep. He yawned and fell asleep. He’s a genius. He’s a genius who appears to resemble Bobo with Mr. Long-Suffering’s nose.
She moved on to the bowel. She turned the contrast down. She moved a little and turned the contrast down again. Then she did that again. The bowel was not as bright as bone in any of the views and would not be called echogenic. I knew what she was doing, but I couldn’t tell whether it was as bright as bone, so we asked. And she said she is not calling it bright. Whew. Moving on.
She took a photo of tiny baby feet for us. Then, I noticed that yes, indeed, this baby is a boy. I can’t believe I never noticed those parts in ultrasounds with my other children. It was so obvious. I guess once you know what you’re looking for, you can find it. Chuckles, by the way, giggles and gets all shy when he sees ultrasound photos with an arrow saying “Boy”. Very embarrassing.
Finally, on to the heart. She took echos and let us listen to the heart beat, measured the rate, and took several views of the heart. I could see the valves opening and closing. The valves! How tiny they must be (I saw the valves with Bobo too…but way back when I was pregnant with Chuckles, the technology wasn’t good enough for that in a standard ultrasound). She could not find an echogenic focus in the heart either. So that is good.
She mentioned that the baby is breech (no big deal with the planned c-section and not a surprise given placental location and the fact that I know where the head is all the time). She finished up with the weight estimate of 3 pounds and baby is measuring about 10 days ahead (which is normal because I have always had babies measure ahead and be large at birth).
We went in to see the perinatalogist who said that the computers were taking a break because of the unseasonably warm weather (54 degrees in Chicago in January). Only the first half of the photos made their way from the ultrasound room to the computer on his desk (and I think they go through the server located in Bahrain on their way). He popped out of the room to go look at the photos on the machine. He came back and said the tech was already scanning the next patient, so we should go home, he said the tech said everything looked ok, and he would call us that night.
So, we left feeling pretty good about ourselves. We even stopped and got dinner to bring home to the kids. Hamburgers, fries, and shakes! Woo hoo.
True to his word (and I think I love him), the perinatalogist called shortly after I finished eating. He said the echogenic focus in the heart is gone and the bowel is no longer echogenic as well, but that the heart appears enlarged. He said he is not worried about it because we are big people and maybe if it was his baby since he is only 5’ tall that it might be something to note, but since we are big people it’s probably nothing, come back in 4-6 weeks and be scanned again. We really are big people. I am 5’8” and Mr. Long-Suffering is 6’4”. However, I would assume that the heart is large for the baby’s size so even though the baby is large, the heart is large even for that. But I know that without volumetric calculations, large is a subjective thing based on the specific angle of the scanning and so on. I am trying to be quite zen about it. Google is not terribly helpful on this point. Enlarged fetal heart on ultrasound doesn’t yield the kind of useful hits one might like to find. Nothing reassuring, though nothing terribly alarming either. There are three things it could be, and they aren’t that bad: absolutely nothing (I always love it when the most likely scenario is that the scary thing is just something that is totally normal and sometimes seen), a relic of gestational diabetes that will revert to normal within 6 months of birth, and Down Syndrome.
That was Tuesday. Wednesday morning, I had my regularly scheduled ob appointment. I asked about my gestational diabetes screening which I had done right before Christmas. I made a strategic error. I had it done in the morning of December 22nd on my way to work so I had eaten a large-ish bowl of oatmeal and munched on two Christmas cookies right before going. So, I guess we could call that the worst-case scenario. And even with all of that, I still got a 126, which passes (since you need to be <130). I’d never had GD before so I wasn’t terribly worried I would all of a sudden have it. The regular ob was happy to hear that the foci were gone in the ultrasound and glad to hear I am having a follow-up on the enlarged heart, and told me to come back in 3 weeks. I’ll be about 33 weeks then. He said then I would go to every two weeks and we would start additional testing at 35 weeks. I have no idea what additional testing he is referring to and I didn’t think to ask. I can’t remember what it was last time. I figure they’ll check for anemia or something to make sure I am good for a c-section. They won’t be checking for group strep B since I will be having the c-section (and antibiotics) regardless.
So, that is what I know. The baby is a giant genius with a big heart. Who doesn’t want a kid with a big heart?
We had the chatty tech. She’s also pregnant. I would guess it’s her first and a girl based on how she is carrying. She measured the cervix. All is good. It’s tipped or curved or something so a curved line measurement gives >5 cm. No imminent labor here. So that is really, super good news. I’ve been feeling better on the contraction front (though not on the energy front) and have been itching to do exotic things like go to the grocery store and climb stairs. I don’t think I am up for either of those activities yet, but it’s nice to know that if I do them and overdo it, I am probably not going in to labor. I finally did have enough energy to stand at the bathroom mirror and pluck my eyebrows. Three weeks. I can’t believe I went three weeks. It looked like caterpillars were inching their way toward each other.
After the cervix, she moved on to the placenta. It’s receiving good blood flow. The smaller lobe is anterior and the larger lobe is posterior. I don’t think that’s important; I’m just letting you know what I know.
Then she measured structures in the brain. Everything there is fine. She measured the head circumference and it’s fine. Then she did abdominal circumference. That is all fine too.
She went to the face. And the cutest thing happened, I nearly died. The baby yawned while the tech was in 3-D view of the face. And then? Muse fell asleep. He yawned and fell asleep. He’s a genius. He’s a genius who appears to resemble Bobo with Mr. Long-Suffering’s nose.
She moved on to the bowel. She turned the contrast down. She moved a little and turned the contrast down again. Then she did that again. The bowel was not as bright as bone in any of the views and would not be called echogenic. I knew what she was doing, but I couldn’t tell whether it was as bright as bone, so we asked. And she said she is not calling it bright. Whew. Moving on.
She took a photo of tiny baby feet for us. Then, I noticed that yes, indeed, this baby is a boy. I can’t believe I never noticed those parts in ultrasounds with my other children. It was so obvious. I guess once you know what you’re looking for, you can find it. Chuckles, by the way, giggles and gets all shy when he sees ultrasound photos with an arrow saying “Boy”. Very embarrassing.
Finally, on to the heart. She took echos and let us listen to the heart beat, measured the rate, and took several views of the heart. I could see the valves opening and closing. The valves! How tiny they must be (I saw the valves with Bobo too…but way back when I was pregnant with Chuckles, the technology wasn’t good enough for that in a standard ultrasound). She could not find an echogenic focus in the heart either. So that is good.
She mentioned that the baby is breech (no big deal with the planned c-section and not a surprise given placental location and the fact that I know where the head is all the time). She finished up with the weight estimate of 3 pounds and baby is measuring about 10 days ahead (which is normal because I have always had babies measure ahead and be large at birth).
We went in to see the perinatalogist who said that the computers were taking a break because of the unseasonably warm weather (54 degrees in Chicago in January). Only the first half of the photos made their way from the ultrasound room to the computer on his desk (and I think they go through the server located in Bahrain on their way). He popped out of the room to go look at the photos on the machine. He came back and said the tech was already scanning the next patient, so we should go home, he said the tech said everything looked ok, and he would call us that night.
So, we left feeling pretty good about ourselves. We even stopped and got dinner to bring home to the kids. Hamburgers, fries, and shakes! Woo hoo.
True to his word (and I think I love him), the perinatalogist called shortly after I finished eating. He said the echogenic focus in the heart is gone and the bowel is no longer echogenic as well, but that the heart appears enlarged. He said he is not worried about it because we are big people and maybe if it was his baby since he is only 5’ tall that it might be something to note, but since we are big people it’s probably nothing, come back in 4-6 weeks and be scanned again. We really are big people. I am 5’8” and Mr. Long-Suffering is 6’4”. However, I would assume that the heart is large for the baby’s size so even though the baby is large, the heart is large even for that. But I know that without volumetric calculations, large is a subjective thing based on the specific angle of the scanning and so on. I am trying to be quite zen about it. Google is not terribly helpful on this point. Enlarged fetal heart on ultrasound doesn’t yield the kind of useful hits one might like to find. Nothing reassuring, though nothing terribly alarming either. There are three things it could be, and they aren’t that bad: absolutely nothing (I always love it when the most likely scenario is that the scary thing is just something that is totally normal and sometimes seen), a relic of gestational diabetes that will revert to normal within 6 months of birth, and Down Syndrome.
That was Tuesday. Wednesday morning, I had my regularly scheduled ob appointment. I asked about my gestational diabetes screening which I had done right before Christmas. I made a strategic error. I had it done in the morning of December 22nd on my way to work so I had eaten a large-ish bowl of oatmeal and munched on two Christmas cookies right before going. So, I guess we could call that the worst-case scenario. And even with all of that, I still got a 126, which passes (since you need to be <130). I’d never had GD before so I wasn’t terribly worried I would all of a sudden have it. The regular ob was happy to hear that the foci were gone in the ultrasound and glad to hear I am having a follow-up on the enlarged heart, and told me to come back in 3 weeks. I’ll be about 33 weeks then. He said then I would go to every two weeks and we would start additional testing at 35 weeks. I have no idea what additional testing he is referring to and I didn’t think to ask. I can’t remember what it was last time. I figure they’ll check for anemia or something to make sure I am good for a c-section. They won’t be checking for group strep B since I will be having the c-section (and antibiotics) regardless.
So, that is what I know. The baby is a giant genius with a big heart. Who doesn’t want a kid with a big heart?
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Baby Names as a form of distraction
We’re going to talk baby names because I have an ultrasound this afternoon to follow up on echogenic whatsits and ccervical lengthamajigs, and we are la-la-la I can’t hear you.
So, baby names. I believe in naming children after family members, and I am not really a fan of anything trendy (no Caydens, no Braydens). However, Trend-Alert: I hear that traditional names are making a roaring comeback. So maybe I am a trendsetter after all since both Bobo and Chuckles have real-life, non-clown names that would be fit for a king (or a president, pro-athlete, accountant, or farmer).
Also, we’ve pretty much run out of family names because the Italian tradition of naming kids after family members means that many of the names in the family are repeats. With only the boys’ four names, we’ve already honored my father, my step-father, my husband, my father-in-law and his mother’s brother and father, my mother-in-law’s father and both her brothers, and my mother’s brother.
I’ve consulted nymbler and used our names as inspiration. Anyway, please combine the following suggestions in some order to come up with a good name. Or, better yet, suggest similar names that you like.
Joseph
Gilbert
Anthony
Tiberius
Kenneth
Thomas
Ulysses
John
Wesley
Patrick
August
So, baby names. I believe in naming children after family members, and I am not really a fan of anything trendy (no Caydens, no Braydens). However, Trend-Alert: I hear that traditional names are making a roaring comeback. So maybe I am a trendsetter after all since both Bobo and Chuckles have real-life, non-clown names that would be fit for a king (or a president, pro-athlete, accountant, or farmer).
Also, we’ve pretty much run out of family names because the Italian tradition of naming kids after family members means that many of the names in the family are repeats. With only the boys’ four names, we’ve already honored my father, my step-father, my husband, my father-in-law and his mother’s brother and father, my mother-in-law’s father and both her brothers, and my mother’s brother.
I’ve consulted nymbler and used our names as inspiration. Anyway, please combine the following suggestions in some order to come up with a good name. Or, better yet, suggest similar names that you like.
Joseph
Gilbert
Anthony
Tiberius
Kenneth
Thomas
Ulysses
John
Wesley
Patrick
August
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Still Pregnant
I just thought I should let you know that I didn't run off and have a baby. (Thank goodness, cross fingers, etc.)
I feel I should tell you (since we're totally close like that) that the fetal fibronectin test has a high false positive rate, and one of the things that can make it read positive even though labor is not imminent is, ahem, rhymes with hecks. So, I will just say that, obviously, I wasn't feeling too bad on Christmas Eve.
I continue to recover from whatever little bug I had that made me think a baby was about to fall out of me. Sorry for the worry I caused, but now I can totally say that I can't do that laundry, vacuum that floor, etc, because I feel just awful and need to go rest.
I feel I should tell you (since we're totally close like that) that the fetal fibronectin test has a high false positive rate, and one of the things that can make it read positive even though labor is not imminent is, ahem, rhymes with hecks. So, I will just say that, obviously, I wasn't feeling too bad on Christmas Eve.
I continue to recover from whatever little bug I had that made me think a baby was about to fall out of me. Sorry for the worry I caused, but now I can totally say that I can't do that laundry, vacuum that floor, etc, because I feel just awful and need to go rest.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Post-Christmas Post
Well, Christmas is over. And it's just as well. Months of planning and anticipation and in a week, it's all done. Here is a photo that captures the magic.
I like the way my (extended and nuclear) family handles Christmas. It makes it lower stress. We tried going to 3 different places on Christmas Day once, and I swore never again. So, a week before Christmas, we went to my aunt's house to do Christmas with my mom's family. It was nice and low-key, and because it was on Saturday, we could stay until a normal, decent adult hour. However, because it was a week before Christmas, I had to get some baking done by then and I had to have some gifts purchased and wrapped, but spreading the deadlines out actually helps. The kids received a few nice gifts that day and really got a chance to enjoy them before the rest of the onslaught began.
Thursday was our nanny's last day of work before the holiday, so that was the day the kids gave her their gifts and she had brought a sack full of things for them too. So, they had those gifts to enjoy fully before more items arrived. The children displayed approrpriate amounts of gratitude and thanks at all gifts received (though there was a close call with some clothes).
Mr. Long-Suffering and I both had Friday off of work, and it was nice. I mean, just lovely. I got a visit from a friend from the old neighborhood (someone who can keep me honest and remembers when I used to rat my bangs). I prepped Christmas Eve brunch, finished up some more cookies, and we finished wrapping presents. I do not think I left our house the entire day. Perfection.
Saturday was Christmas Eve, and I hold a brunch on Christmas Eve morning. This started after the year I swore "never again". We realized that we would not see my mother over Christmas if we didn't come up with something else, so brunch was born. Originally, it was just going to be us and my mom and her husband. However, my husband invited his parents one year, so I invited my dad. All in all, it was brunch for 10, and it was perfection. My dining room table holds 10 in a cozy, cramped, family fashion, so it was just nice. The food was good - though we did realize it's mostly me who drinks the mimosas since most of the champagne was left. On Christmas Eve morning, we exchange gifts with my mom and the kids get to open the gifts that people we don't see sent to us (like my sister, some out-of-town friends, etc). Again, the kids got a chance to enjoy their gifts before being made to go somewhere else. This arrangement even ensured that both Bobo and I got to have naps.
Christmas Eve dinner has always, always been spent with my dad. And when he was a boy, Christmas Eve was the bigger holiday in their family, so that is what we do. We have Christmas Eve with my dad and his family. It was just us and them (and I prefer the intimate gatherings and low-key celebrations). We had a lovely dinner of lasagna (and we have always had lasagna as long as I can remember from way back when my father's mother was the one making dinner) and cookies for dessert. I lounged on the couch and in a chair and did not lift a finger. People served me food and waited on me. Again, completely lovely.
We got home at my bedtime, I put the cookies and milk out for Santa and directed Mr. Long-Suffering on where to find the gifts that needed to be relocated under the tree, but I went to bed (crying because none of my pajamas fit and it wouldn't be until the morning when I would get new pajamas...at this, I told him that I obviously needed to go to bed because anyone who would cry over pajamas is obviously overtired).
I woke repeatedly through the night. Elves? Santa? Chills, urgent trips to the bathroom, back ache, diarrhea, more chills...no, not chilled... too hot...I stripped off the sweat pants I wore to bed. Eventually, I fell asleep and the didn't get up until about 8 (which is crazy, ridiculous late). Chuckles was up a bit after 7, looked down the stairs and told us all about what wonders he saw, but we made him wait for Bobo.
When Bobo got up, I took my sorry self (now wearing pants) down to the living room and plopped on the couch. We did stockings, presents, and had brunch leftovers. I stayed on the couch and put batteries in things. Eventually, it was time to head out to my in-laws' house. I got myself dressed, made Mr. Long-Suffering pack up the food and gifts and load the car and get the kids dressed. We all got in the car and I said, I think you ought to swing by the hospital and drop me off for monitoring. Take the kids to your parents' so they can get some lunch and see their cousins, then come back and get me (it's all very close so this wasn't a crazy request).
So, I sauntered into the ER on Christmas morning (I had actually phoned the on-call doctor in advance so L&D would know I was coming). I was whisked away in a wheel chair by a man named Joseph. I was given a bracelet and two fancy belts to wear (and a gown!). I propped myself up in the bed with cable TV and started watching "A Christmas Story". This is when things started to go...not the way I had planned. I figured they'd hook me up to a monitor for an hour, then let me go.
Well, the on-call doctor wanted an hour of monitoring, an internal exam, and a fetal fibronectin test. Mr. Long-Suffering returned (and hadn't dropped off the food, the gifts, the diaper bag or anything except the children). The nurse did the fetal fibronectin test which is a swab that has to sit in the nether regions for 60 seconds and then gets removed. It was one of the most pleasant (least unpleasant) tests I ever had performed down there. The internal exam however was awful. If there is ever a next time, I am going to request someone other than Stubby perform the test. I want a former piano player with long, slender fingers.
I continued to be monitored. The monitoring is rather neat. There are two belts and three lines on the chart. The top line was the baby's heart rate, the middle was some kind of fetal movemement monitor (which in this case just showed a solid black line the whole time because Muse is a bit of a hyper wrestler) and the bottom line in a uterine activity monitor (contraction monitor). The bottom line was up, it was down, it was spikey and in a sine wave. It was all over the place. There was no pattern and no rhyme (and certainly no reason).
The hour of strips from the monitors were sent to the on-call doctor (whom I had never met). The results of the tests were sent to her as well. It turns out my fetal fibronectin was positive. Negative is super awesome and means there is a statistically insignificant chance of pre-term labor in the next two weeks...positive doesn't tell you anything...could be today...could be 3 months from now. From my internal exam, my cervix was soft and dilated a fingertip. That's not bad, but hard and closed completely would have been better. And now I was bleeding (thanks, Stubby!).
So, the on-call doctor ordered blood work, IV fluids, a urine culture, and a diagnostic ultrasound. If I thought the guy at the perinatalogy practice who didn't give me a guided tour of my uterus was bad, this was worse. During diagnostic ultrasounds, you aren't even allowed to look at the screen and Mr. Long-Suffering couldn't come with me (so he watched A Christmas Story instead). The ultrasound tech apologized about that, but said because of the kinds of work they are doing, he couldn't tell me anything and wasn't allowed to let me look. But he did say he thought I'd still make it to a late Christmas dinner.
It took the IV team two tries to get an IV in (and I have lovely veins, I swear...I donate blood without missing a beat). Everyone accused me of being dehydrated. This is not my first redeo. Of course, I had been drinking water and laying on my left side for almost a day by this point. The blood draw was fine, but I noticed my arm still wasn't healed from the one-hour glucose screening I had on Thursday (whose results I still haven't heard).
The blood work came back unremarkable, the urine culture takes time but I could see that I clearly was not dehydrated (which was everyone's main concern), and the ultrasound showed my cervix was >4cm, but I was still contracting-ish on the monitor. So, I was staying the night.
At this point, I started to cry. Just a little. Because really, spending Christmas night in the hospital by yourself is pretty sad. I texted my friend, texted my sister, called my mom (who is not a comforting and reassuring presence in times of stress but once my sister knew, I had to tell my mom) who freaked out not helping me at all, and I sent Mr. Long-Suffering to go have Christmas dinner because his parents were making the kids wait until we got there to open their presents. I got to have chicken piccata, peas, and cheesecake on a hospital tray. The nurses did bring me pudding and Lorna Doone cookies, though (let's hope the GD screening was clear).
My sister-in-law texted me photos of the kids opening each gift and of my husband opening his. My sister texted me pictures of my niece trying on all her new clothes in a fashion show plus pictures of food and fun. My best friend joked with me that I would do anything to get out of going to the in-laws'. My mom called and fretted. I watched more of A Christmas Story (it was on again and again and again).
The on-call doctor showed up. She is genetics perfection. Apparently she is smart since she made it through med school, she was gorgeous - young, great hair, had been a cheerleader in high school in Texas (I was now watching the Bears-Packers game so it was relevant). She is the reason other women sometimes feel inadequate. I asked about steroids (betamethasone) for lung development. She said that everything looked OK, but since I wasn't her patient and my strips still didn't look great, I would be here overnight and my own regular doctor could deal with it in the morning. She was very honest about it. She said that right now, I wasn't a candidate for the steroids. I had never heard anything bad about them and wasn't sure why they wouldn't be used, but she said that they lower my immune function and since they thought I had a touch of something, that would be bad, and they can cause pulmonary edema in the mother. All-in-all not warranted yet.
The overnight was fairly uneventful. My blood pressure was 89/47, which is typical for me and I assured them of that. My IV continued to drip at the slowest rate known to man. It was a series of minor inconveniences that just made me irritable. By morning, I had gotten some sleep, but the contraction monitor was showing regular contractions a minute apart. The nurse was very concerned. She mentioned tocolytic drugs to stop contractions. She headed out to call my regular doctor. Nothing happened for a while. My mother-in-law and mother descended upon my house like a welcome plague, and Mr. Long-Suffering came back to the hospital bearing my stocking which had facial wipes, a toothbrush, hand lotion, and chap stick...all the things I wanted. My stocking was hung from the IV pole with care in hopes that soon I wouldn't be there.
My doctor showed up. He said I was not in pre-term labor, and he was surprised to see me in the hospital since I am usually so level-headed about these things. Mr. Long-Suffering didn't like the sound of that and defended, "You can imagine how bad she felt if she thought she needed to come in." They both nodded and agreed. My doctor said that even with all the activity on the monitor, my cervix is over 4 cm and there is almost no chance of pre-term labor when the cervix is longer than 3 cm, so I am good. He said as soon as the crampy feeling ended, I was free to go home. I felt like crap and basically said so. I was kept until I was able to say I felt good enough to go home. I was also told that if I feel this bad again, it is OK for me to come back and be monitored again (don't think I'll ever want to do that again since this turned into some kind of 30 hour ordeal). I ate lunch, took a nap, and got discharged just as soon as the lady three rooms down pushed out her baby and the nurses could get back to me. (Did you know that people cheer when you have a baby? I had no idea there would be applause. Every time I have had a baby, the people looked grave and worried.)
So, I went home, people fixed me dinner, and I sat on the couch. I called off work the next day (well, I worked from home since I was supposed to be 4 people this week) and took a 2+ hour nap. Another guy asked if I could cover for him Thursday and Friday. I said, "No." I felt really good about putting boundaries in place and not taking on any more work until...not 5 minutes after I said no, the announcement came out from the secretaries that the father of that man had passed away on Christmas Eve and Thursday and Friday were the services. I called him today and told him I would do what I could (since there is no one else), and if not, it would just have to wait until we were all back. Today is Wednesday, I think. I came to work for a bit today since there were some papers I needed to consult and didn't have them at home. I was released from the hospital without any restrictions, so I can work as I feel able (I am still sick apparently).
So, that was Christmas. It wasn't how I had planned on it going, but it will be a memorable one. I'm glad it's over. I'm ready to take down the tree and burn it, but alas, it's artificial, and I am not taking on any lifting or organizing projects this week.
I like the way my (extended and nuclear) family handles Christmas. It makes it lower stress. We tried going to 3 different places on Christmas Day once, and I swore never again. So, a week before Christmas, we went to my aunt's house to do Christmas with my mom's family. It was nice and low-key, and because it was on Saturday, we could stay until a normal, decent adult hour. However, because it was a week before Christmas, I had to get some baking done by then and I had to have some gifts purchased and wrapped, but spreading the deadlines out actually helps. The kids received a few nice gifts that day and really got a chance to enjoy them before the rest of the onslaught began.
Thursday was our nanny's last day of work before the holiday, so that was the day the kids gave her their gifts and she had brought a sack full of things for them too. So, they had those gifts to enjoy fully before more items arrived. The children displayed approrpriate amounts of gratitude and thanks at all gifts received (though there was a close call with some clothes).
Mr. Long-Suffering and I both had Friday off of work, and it was nice. I mean, just lovely. I got a visit from a friend from the old neighborhood (someone who can keep me honest and remembers when I used to rat my bangs). I prepped Christmas Eve brunch, finished up some more cookies, and we finished wrapping presents. I do not think I left our house the entire day. Perfection.
Saturday was Christmas Eve, and I hold a brunch on Christmas Eve morning. This started after the year I swore "never again". We realized that we would not see my mother over Christmas if we didn't come up with something else, so brunch was born. Originally, it was just going to be us and my mom and her husband. However, my husband invited his parents one year, so I invited my dad. All in all, it was brunch for 10, and it was perfection. My dining room table holds 10 in a cozy, cramped, family fashion, so it was just nice. The food was good - though we did realize it's mostly me who drinks the mimosas since most of the champagne was left. On Christmas Eve morning, we exchange gifts with my mom and the kids get to open the gifts that people we don't see sent to us (like my sister, some out-of-town friends, etc). Again, the kids got a chance to enjoy their gifts before being made to go somewhere else. This arrangement even ensured that both Bobo and I got to have naps.
Christmas Eve dinner has always, always been spent with my dad. And when he was a boy, Christmas Eve was the bigger holiday in their family, so that is what we do. We have Christmas Eve with my dad and his family. It was just us and them (and I prefer the intimate gatherings and low-key celebrations). We had a lovely dinner of lasagna (and we have always had lasagna as long as I can remember from way back when my father's mother was the one making dinner) and cookies for dessert. I lounged on the couch and in a chair and did not lift a finger. People served me food and waited on me. Again, completely lovely.
We got home at my bedtime, I put the cookies and milk out for Santa and directed Mr. Long-Suffering on where to find the gifts that needed to be relocated under the tree, but I went to bed (crying because none of my pajamas fit and it wouldn't be until the morning when I would get new pajamas...at this, I told him that I obviously needed to go to bed because anyone who would cry over pajamas is obviously overtired).
I woke repeatedly through the night. Elves? Santa? Chills, urgent trips to the bathroom, back ache, diarrhea, more chills...no, not chilled... too hot...I stripped off the sweat pants I wore to bed. Eventually, I fell asleep and the didn't get up until about 8 (which is crazy, ridiculous late). Chuckles was up a bit after 7, looked down the stairs and told us all about what wonders he saw, but we made him wait for Bobo.
When Bobo got up, I took my sorry self (now wearing pants) down to the living room and plopped on the couch. We did stockings, presents, and had brunch leftovers. I stayed on the couch and put batteries in things. Eventually, it was time to head out to my in-laws' house. I got myself dressed, made Mr. Long-Suffering pack up the food and gifts and load the car and get the kids dressed. We all got in the car and I said, I think you ought to swing by the hospital and drop me off for monitoring. Take the kids to your parents' so they can get some lunch and see their cousins, then come back and get me (it's all very close so this wasn't a crazy request).
So, I sauntered into the ER on Christmas morning (I had actually phoned the on-call doctor in advance so L&D would know I was coming). I was whisked away in a wheel chair by a man named Joseph. I was given a bracelet and two fancy belts to wear (and a gown!). I propped myself up in the bed with cable TV and started watching "A Christmas Story". This is when things started to go...not the way I had planned. I figured they'd hook me up to a monitor for an hour, then let me go.
Well, the on-call doctor wanted an hour of monitoring, an internal exam, and a fetal fibronectin test. Mr. Long-Suffering returned (and hadn't dropped off the food, the gifts, the diaper bag or anything except the children). The nurse did the fetal fibronectin test which is a swab that has to sit in the nether regions for 60 seconds and then gets removed. It was one of the most pleasant (least unpleasant) tests I ever had performed down there. The internal exam however was awful. If there is ever a next time, I am going to request someone other than Stubby perform the test. I want a former piano player with long, slender fingers.
I continued to be monitored. The monitoring is rather neat. There are two belts and three lines on the chart. The top line was the baby's heart rate, the middle was some kind of fetal movemement monitor (which in this case just showed a solid black line the whole time because Muse is a bit of a hyper wrestler) and the bottom line in a uterine activity monitor (contraction monitor). The bottom line was up, it was down, it was spikey and in a sine wave. It was all over the place. There was no pattern and no rhyme (and certainly no reason).
The hour of strips from the monitors were sent to the on-call doctor (whom I had never met). The results of the tests were sent to her as well. It turns out my fetal fibronectin was positive. Negative is super awesome and means there is a statistically insignificant chance of pre-term labor in the next two weeks...positive doesn't tell you anything...could be today...could be 3 months from now. From my internal exam, my cervix was soft and dilated a fingertip. That's not bad, but hard and closed completely would have been better. And now I was bleeding (thanks, Stubby!).
So, the on-call doctor ordered blood work, IV fluids, a urine culture, and a diagnostic ultrasound. If I thought the guy at the perinatalogy practice who didn't give me a guided tour of my uterus was bad, this was worse. During diagnostic ultrasounds, you aren't even allowed to look at the screen and Mr. Long-Suffering couldn't come with me (so he watched A Christmas Story instead). The ultrasound tech apologized about that, but said because of the kinds of work they are doing, he couldn't tell me anything and wasn't allowed to let me look. But he did say he thought I'd still make it to a late Christmas dinner.
It took the IV team two tries to get an IV in (and I have lovely veins, I swear...I donate blood without missing a beat). Everyone accused me of being dehydrated. This is not my first redeo. Of course, I had been drinking water and laying on my left side for almost a day by this point. The blood draw was fine, but I noticed my arm still wasn't healed from the one-hour glucose screening I had on Thursday (whose results I still haven't heard).
The blood work came back unremarkable, the urine culture takes time but I could see that I clearly was not dehydrated (which was everyone's main concern), and the ultrasound showed my cervix was >4cm, but I was still contracting-ish on the monitor. So, I was staying the night.
At this point, I started to cry. Just a little. Because really, spending Christmas night in the hospital by yourself is pretty sad. I texted my friend, texted my sister, called my mom (who is not a comforting and reassuring presence in times of stress but once my sister knew, I had to tell my mom) who freaked out not helping me at all, and I sent Mr. Long-Suffering to go have Christmas dinner because his parents were making the kids wait until we got there to open their presents. I got to have chicken piccata, peas, and cheesecake on a hospital tray. The nurses did bring me pudding and Lorna Doone cookies, though (let's hope the GD screening was clear).
My sister-in-law texted me photos of the kids opening each gift and of my husband opening his. My sister texted me pictures of my niece trying on all her new clothes in a fashion show plus pictures of food and fun. My best friend joked with me that I would do anything to get out of going to the in-laws'. My mom called and fretted. I watched more of A Christmas Story (it was on again and again and again).
The on-call doctor showed up. She is genetics perfection. Apparently she is smart since she made it through med school, she was gorgeous - young, great hair, had been a cheerleader in high school in Texas (I was now watching the Bears-Packers game so it was relevant). She is the reason other women sometimes feel inadequate. I asked about steroids (betamethasone) for lung development. She said that everything looked OK, but since I wasn't her patient and my strips still didn't look great, I would be here overnight and my own regular doctor could deal with it in the morning. She was very honest about it. She said that right now, I wasn't a candidate for the steroids. I had never heard anything bad about them and wasn't sure why they wouldn't be used, but she said that they lower my immune function and since they thought I had a touch of something, that would be bad, and they can cause pulmonary edema in the mother. All-in-all not warranted yet.
The overnight was fairly uneventful. My blood pressure was 89/47, which is typical for me and I assured them of that. My IV continued to drip at the slowest rate known to man. It was a series of minor inconveniences that just made me irritable. By morning, I had gotten some sleep, but the contraction monitor was showing regular contractions a minute apart. The nurse was very concerned. She mentioned tocolytic drugs to stop contractions. She headed out to call my regular doctor. Nothing happened for a while. My mother-in-law and mother descended upon my house like a welcome plague, and Mr. Long-Suffering came back to the hospital bearing my stocking which had facial wipes, a toothbrush, hand lotion, and chap stick...all the things I wanted. My stocking was hung from the IV pole with care in hopes that soon I wouldn't be there.
My doctor showed up. He said I was not in pre-term labor, and he was surprised to see me in the hospital since I am usually so level-headed about these things. Mr. Long-Suffering didn't like the sound of that and defended, "You can imagine how bad she felt if she thought she needed to come in." They both nodded and agreed. My doctor said that even with all the activity on the monitor, my cervix is over 4 cm and there is almost no chance of pre-term labor when the cervix is longer than 3 cm, so I am good. He said as soon as the crampy feeling ended, I was free to go home. I felt like crap and basically said so. I was kept until I was able to say I felt good enough to go home. I was also told that if I feel this bad again, it is OK for me to come back and be monitored again (don't think I'll ever want to do that again since this turned into some kind of 30 hour ordeal). I ate lunch, took a nap, and got discharged just as soon as the lady three rooms down pushed out her baby and the nurses could get back to me. (Did you know that people cheer when you have a baby? I had no idea there would be applause. Every time I have had a baby, the people looked grave and worried.)
So, I went home, people fixed me dinner, and I sat on the couch. I called off work the next day (well, I worked from home since I was supposed to be 4 people this week) and took a 2+ hour nap. Another guy asked if I could cover for him Thursday and Friday. I said, "No." I felt really good about putting boundaries in place and not taking on any more work until...not 5 minutes after I said no, the announcement came out from the secretaries that the father of that man had passed away on Christmas Eve and Thursday and Friday were the services. I called him today and told him I would do what I could (since there is no one else), and if not, it would just have to wait until we were all back. Today is Wednesday, I think. I came to work for a bit today since there were some papers I needed to consult and didn't have them at home. I was released from the hospital without any restrictions, so I can work as I feel able (I am still sick apparently).
So, that was Christmas. It wasn't how I had planned on it going, but it will be a memorable one. I'm glad it's over. I'm ready to take down the tree and burn it, but alas, it's artificial, and I am not taking on any lifting or organizing projects this week.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
I forgot Number 11
This should have been front-and-center in my last post. It is such giant, important, earth-shattering news, I cannot believe I forgot to mention it.
Houston, we have a loose tooth.
Chuckles has been claiming loose teeth since the beginning of kindergarten as kids in his class were dropping teeth left and right. I assured him the average age of losing the first tooth was 6.5 and that he was doing just fine. And yet he'd still make me try to wiggle things that weren't even the slightest bit wiggly.
So, when he told me he had a loose tooth Monday morning, I was skeptical, but I dutifully stuck my index finger in his mouth and poked at his bottom, front tooth. And it moved. Ewwww.
I was so proud and sad. My kid is losing his BABY teeth. That means he's not a baby anymore. Why I would be proud, I have no idea because even naughty, disrespectful kids lose their baby teeth, but that's what I was.
I assured Chuckles that Santa and the Tooth Fairy are old friends, and if they both have to visit our house Saturday night, that would be fine (they might even enjoy catching up and the Tooth Fairy will remind Santa to brush after a night of cookie-eating).
I went to work and told all my coworkers about my discovery, and then asked them what the tooth fairy was paying these days. We've settled on a $2 bill for the first tooth and a Sacajewa dollar coin (if available) for each additional tooth.
Houston, we have a loose tooth.
Chuckles has been claiming loose teeth since the beginning of kindergarten as kids in his class were dropping teeth left and right. I assured him the average age of losing the first tooth was 6.5 and that he was doing just fine. And yet he'd still make me try to wiggle things that weren't even the slightest bit wiggly.
So, when he told me he had a loose tooth Monday morning, I was skeptical, but I dutifully stuck my index finger in his mouth and poked at his bottom, front tooth. And it moved. Ewwww.
I was so proud and sad. My kid is losing his BABY teeth. That means he's not a baby anymore. Why I would be proud, I have no idea because even naughty, disrespectful kids lose their baby teeth, but that's what I was.
I assured Chuckles that Santa and the Tooth Fairy are old friends, and if they both have to visit our house Saturday night, that would be fine (they might even enjoy catching up and the Tooth Fairy will remind Santa to brush after a night of cookie-eating).
I went to work and told all my coworkers about my discovery, and then asked them what the tooth fairy was paying these days. We've settled on a $2 bill for the first tooth and a Sacajewa dollar coin (if available) for each additional tooth.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Three things (that might turn into more things as I get going)
- I told you about the MaterniT21 test that looks for fetal DNA in the mother's blood to determine whether there is a Trisomy (13, 18, or 21) or even cycstic fibrosis, yes? Good. Well, did you know that if you google it (as of last Thursday), the first 5 or so links are to Pro-Life websites? I have nothing against Pro-Life people, though I profoundly disagree with their opinion and often their tactics, but this is ridiculous. Seriously? I mean, it's a test. It gives you information. To say that people shouldn't get the test or that it should be illegal is ridiculous. I want the test. I want the test enough that I faxed my ob 42 pages of journal articles about it because he was having trouble sorting through the bing results (which were even more heavily Pro-Life than the google results). And you know what Pro-Life people? Pretty much no matter what the results of that test, I am not terminating. So there. Nyah. You ought to trust women to make sound medical decisions in the best interests of their families. The End. And nyah.
- The same technology that can allow you to test for fetal abnormalities can also be used to determine fetal sex and fetal paternity (very early...maybe 8 weeks or so). So, I can see that there are times and places when the technology might be abused. And you know what? I still don't think that the test should be supressed.
- I watched football on Sunday (since I pretty much put myself on couch rest this Sunday on the advice of my favorite midwife who told me Saturday that what I was experiencing at a family Christmas party did not sound like typical Braxton Hicks contractions, and maybe I ought to slow it down). Chuckles often talks about how when he grows up, he wants to be a Green Bay Packer (much to my disappointment because We Are Bear Fans and Packers are our arch-enemy). But, I did tell him that I would root for the Packers if he were one (and that was about the only way I would). Anyway, during this Sunday's Bears' game, Johnny Knox got bent in half backward where the hinge was his spine. I am glad he lived, and I cannot believe he isn't going to be paralyzed after that, but I did tell Chuckles that maybe he might like to be a dentist or a test pilot instead of a football player.
- I told someone that I would be proud if my son joined the Air Force (or the Navy, Coast Guard, or Marines but not so much the Army). This person was shocked that I find a career of military service to be something to honor. Well, it is.
- I did end up making some cookies from scratch and I made some toffee and Turtles, too. But I am taking it easy now so I might only make two more batches this week.
- I am hosting brunch on Saturday (Christmas Eve) morning for the grandparents. We're having mimosas, coffee, egg nog, French Toast casserole, two kinds of quiche but both will have bacon, fruit, and a chocolate Kringle.
- I haven't started wrapping presents and am seriously considering asking my husband to do it, but I do like him to be surprised on Christmas morning when he sees what he got for me and the children.
- In my little corner of blogs I have ben reading since back when we called the internet The World Wide Web, there is a little mini-baby boom going on (of second and third babies). I'd like to state for the record that I am the farthest along and, hence, can be considered a trendsetter.
- I'd like to end with some photos. Remember my first market price lobster? Here it is. I will call him Grabby.
- And this picture is my three men looking out the window at the airport watching the ground crew paint lines.
Lastly, 11 years ago, for Christmas 2000, I purchased Mr. Long-Suffering his first digital camera. I didn't know anything about them, and he didn't know he wanted one (and I wanted to know why the camera didn't take normal discs and what kind of racket were they running making me buy some other "non-standard" kind of memory cards?). Anyway, here is a photo of me from that Christmas. I am showing off my new diamond earrings that I got that Christmas, but all I keep noticing is how nicely maintained my eyebrows were back then.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Let's Have Some Fun on the Internet
I started online shopping in 1998. At Christmas. To buy my dad a calendar. I bought his yearly calendar every year from Barnes & Noble until Amazon started carrying that calendar a few years ago.
My shopping history with amazon goes back to 2003 (which I just viewed since amazon keeps your buying history). In 2003, I purchased 3 items: ISO 9001:2000 Explained, ISO 9001:2000 Internal Audits Made Easy, and The Mother of All Pregnancy Books. That must have been some year (and I was not pregnant at any time in 2003, so I don't know why I bought that one book other than I was eager to have a baby after having been trying for some time already).
In 2011, I purchased 75 items (excluding gift cards). The range of items is wide (from vitamins to food to curtains to books and toys to clothes and cosmetics to magazine subscriptions, home & garden items, tools, and cloth diapers). I've been quite impressed with them (and their affiliates and partners). I always do Free Super Saver Shipping if it is available. Oftentimes, the items arrive the next day or the day after (I don't have amazon prime or Amazon Mom). When they do take longer, the merchants often throw extra stuff in the package to make up for the time delay. You never know what you're going to get (I have the same experience with Oriental Trading Company).
This love-fest on amazon is not a paid promotion and I get no referral fees or anything from them. So now, here is my 2011 gift guide.
Books for Kids: Anything from this series. Books like "E is for Empire" (about New York), M is for Mitten (Michigan), L is for Lincoln (Illinois), G is for Garden (NJ), H is for Hoosier (IN), B is for Badger (WI), etc. I've purchased several of these for kids and they are a big hit.
Gifts for Boys & Girls: 12 Jump Ropes My boys happen to like to tie things up with them or pretend that they are water skiing. I have heard of slightly older children actually using them as jump ropes. A great bulk gift if you need stocking stuffers.
A simple stopwatch. Do not underestimate the distracting powers of a stopwatch on a long car trip. Or use it as a homework timer or a time-out timer. Or race yourself to see if you can make it to the fence and back in less than 12 seconds this time. Do it again. And again. And mom no longer needs to count while you run.
I've been really happy with these curtains. I have a really wide picture window and these were the most inexpensive curtains I could find for such a ridiculously wide window. They are not actual black out curtains but they do room darken (which is not why I got them).
I wanted the kids to love the Kid-o Bilibo (my husband calls it the Swedish Meat Helmet). They have used the Bilibo (to sit and spin, push each other around, and race cars inside), but it's not been the go-to toy I hoped it would be.
I bought two voice changers for Christmas this year. I am sure I'm going to hate myself for this, but I bet the kids love it.
We got a butterfly garden last year and loved it. So this year, I bought one for someone else. (You go online and set shipment of the caterpillars for June or so, they arrive, and you wait for them to cocoon and hatch. It's neat.)
You need a magnetic flash light. Or maybe you know someone who does. Someone with a new car or a new house, perhaps. In case of the zombies. Or a flat tire.
Children's chewable vitamins. Our pediatrician recommends Vitamin D for kids in the winter in our latitude. He also said if you're going to bother, you should get one with iron too. He said Flintstone's Complete was the way to go but those had Red Dye, Blue Dye, Yellow Dye, artificial sweeteners, etc, so I got these instead. Also, avoid gummie vitamins (because they are bad for teeth and don't contain iron.)
Everyone needs more Dilbert in their life.
The shipping on this doll stroller has been lightning fast both times I have bought it (two days with free super saver). I saw on another web site that perhaps I was socializing my boys to be boys (though they did have dolls already) so Bobo got a doll stroller for his birthday (which he uses to push dump trucks around) so I bought another one for Christmas for another boy. I also think this would be a good gift for a girl since it's not pink.
I'm not sure whether this remote controlled helicopter is for Chuckles or Mr. Long-Suffering. Either way, the reviews are better than Air Hogs.
My Dad needed his yearly calendar. Does yours?
The quality on these light-up swords is about what you would expect for the price, but what kid doesn't want a light saber? (And at a fraction of the cost of an officially licensed Star Wars product....one arrived not working but I only needed two...am waiting on word from the company about resolution for the third sword).
I hate winter. This full spectrum light bulb is for me. (Honestly, I hadn't seen the sun in 3 days...no wonder I was crying and doing dishes last night.)
Gorilla Glue. Because my husband said Santa wants him to have nice things in his stocking. Also, J-B Weld.
Chuckles, with his own money, bought Bobo construction paper. This made me tell the kids a story about how when I was a girl, paper only came in white, manila, or yellow if you were lucky enough to get a legal pad somewhere. My husband called bull on me. I was incredulous. I said, "Sure, construction paper had been invented already but you only got it at school...it's not like people had that at home." Apparently, Mr. Long-Suffering had construction paper at home. This is apparently the distinction between middle class and lower middle class circa 1982. He probably got to use tape too.
If you buy someone a tie, you should also buy him a color coordinating pocket square.
As I didn't want to destroy my boys' nurturing side by not getting them dolls, I am also encouraging girls to look outside the doll bed. I bought this Melissa and Doug Fire Chief dress up outfit for some sisters. Chuckles got the police uniform last year and still plays with it often.
I saw this Lip Stix Remix on TV's Shark Tank last year and thought it was a great idea (so did Barbara). I didn't buy it last Christmas, but I did this year. I got it for someone who has a favorite lip stick color and will dig the bottom out of the tube. Now she can remelt and remake new lipsticks out of what's left behind. You can use it on under eye concealer too.
My niece is in to Gnomes this year. But she always likes clothes.
And Muse is getting me this baby keepsake book. Or maybe Santa is.
I didn't buy this aircraft carrier from amazon because the price is outrageous. I bought two of them at my local Target for Bobo and my nephew. Chuckles has a Matchbox Cars aircraft carrier that he loves, so Bobo wanted one too, but we thought he needed one that was more appropriate for a little kid so Imaginext it was.
My mom is getting Chuckles Snap Circuits. I think I need to learn more about how circuits work, so I will play with him. My mother-in-law is getting him some Ninjago at his request.
Love the taste of real butter but hate how hard it is to spread when it comes out of the fridge? If so, you need a butter boat that keeps your butter cool enough to prevent spoilage on the kitchen counter but warm enough to spread.
Did you want to share any items you've found or hot gifts for this season? You can buy until Monday on amazon for Free Super Saver by Christmas (I think).
My shopping history with amazon goes back to 2003 (which I just viewed since amazon keeps your buying history). In 2003, I purchased 3 items: ISO 9001:2000 Explained, ISO 9001:2000 Internal Audits Made Easy, and The Mother of All Pregnancy Books. That must have been some year (and I was not pregnant at any time in 2003, so I don't know why I bought that one book other than I was eager to have a baby after having been trying for some time already).
In 2011, I purchased 75 items (excluding gift cards). The range of items is wide (from vitamins to food to curtains to books and toys to clothes and cosmetics to magazine subscriptions, home & garden items, tools, and cloth diapers). I've been quite impressed with them (and their affiliates and partners). I always do Free Super Saver Shipping if it is available. Oftentimes, the items arrive the next day or the day after (I don't have amazon prime or Amazon Mom). When they do take longer, the merchants often throw extra stuff in the package to make up for the time delay. You never know what you're going to get (I have the same experience with Oriental Trading Company).
This love-fest on amazon is not a paid promotion and I get no referral fees or anything from them. So now, here is my 2011 gift guide.
Books for Kids: Anything from this series. Books like "E is for Empire" (about New York), M is for Mitten (Michigan), L is for Lincoln (Illinois), G is for Garden (NJ), H is for Hoosier (IN), B is for Badger (WI), etc. I've purchased several of these for kids and they are a big hit.
Gifts for Boys & Girls: 12 Jump Ropes My boys happen to like to tie things up with them or pretend that they are water skiing. I have heard of slightly older children actually using them as jump ropes. A great bulk gift if you need stocking stuffers.
A simple stopwatch. Do not underestimate the distracting powers of a stopwatch on a long car trip. Or use it as a homework timer or a time-out timer. Or race yourself to see if you can make it to the fence and back in less than 12 seconds this time. Do it again. And again. And mom no longer needs to count while you run.
I've been really happy with these curtains. I have a really wide picture window and these were the most inexpensive curtains I could find for such a ridiculously wide window. They are not actual black out curtains but they do room darken (which is not why I got them).
I wanted the kids to love the Kid-o Bilibo (my husband calls it the Swedish Meat Helmet). They have used the Bilibo (to sit and spin, push each other around, and race cars inside), but it's not been the go-to toy I hoped it would be.
I bought two voice changers for Christmas this year. I am sure I'm going to hate myself for this, but I bet the kids love it.
We got a butterfly garden last year and loved it. So this year, I bought one for someone else. (You go online and set shipment of the caterpillars for June or so, they arrive, and you wait for them to cocoon and hatch. It's neat.)
You need a magnetic flash light. Or maybe you know someone who does. Someone with a new car or a new house, perhaps. In case of the zombies. Or a flat tire.
Children's chewable vitamins. Our pediatrician recommends Vitamin D for kids in the winter in our latitude. He also said if you're going to bother, you should get one with iron too. He said Flintstone's Complete was the way to go but those had Red Dye, Blue Dye, Yellow Dye, artificial sweeteners, etc, so I got these instead. Also, avoid gummie vitamins (because they are bad for teeth and don't contain iron.)
Everyone needs more Dilbert in their life.
The shipping on this doll stroller has been lightning fast both times I have bought it (two days with free super saver). I saw on another web site that perhaps I was socializing my boys to be boys (though they did have dolls already) so Bobo got a doll stroller for his birthday (which he uses to push dump trucks around) so I bought another one for Christmas for another boy. I also think this would be a good gift for a girl since it's not pink.
I'm not sure whether this remote controlled helicopter is for Chuckles or Mr. Long-Suffering. Either way, the reviews are better than Air Hogs.
My Dad needed his yearly calendar. Does yours?
The quality on these light-up swords is about what you would expect for the price, but what kid doesn't want a light saber? (And at a fraction of the cost of an officially licensed Star Wars product....one arrived not working but I only needed two...am waiting on word from the company about resolution for the third sword).
I hate winter. This full spectrum light bulb is for me. (Honestly, I hadn't seen the sun in 3 days...no wonder I was crying and doing dishes last night.)
Gorilla Glue. Because my husband said Santa wants him to have nice things in his stocking. Also, J-B Weld.
Chuckles, with his own money, bought Bobo construction paper. This made me tell the kids a story about how when I was a girl, paper only came in white, manila, or yellow if you were lucky enough to get a legal pad somewhere. My husband called bull on me. I was incredulous. I said, "Sure, construction paper had been invented already but you only got it at school...it's not like people had that at home." Apparently, Mr. Long-Suffering had construction paper at home. This is apparently the distinction between middle class and lower middle class circa 1982. He probably got to use tape too.
If you buy someone a tie, you should also buy him a color coordinating pocket square.
As I didn't want to destroy my boys' nurturing side by not getting them dolls, I am also encouraging girls to look outside the doll bed. I bought this Melissa and Doug Fire Chief dress up outfit for some sisters. Chuckles got the police uniform last year and still plays with it often.
I saw this Lip Stix Remix on TV's Shark Tank last year and thought it was a great idea (so did Barbara). I didn't buy it last Christmas, but I did this year. I got it for someone who has a favorite lip stick color and will dig the bottom out of the tube. Now she can remelt and remake new lipsticks out of what's left behind. You can use it on under eye concealer too.
My niece is in to Gnomes this year. But she always likes clothes.
And Muse is getting me this baby keepsake book. Or maybe Santa is.
I didn't buy this aircraft carrier from amazon because the price is outrageous. I bought two of them at my local Target for Bobo and my nephew. Chuckles has a Matchbox Cars aircraft carrier that he loves, so Bobo wanted one too, but we thought he needed one that was more appropriate for a little kid so Imaginext it was.
My mom is getting Chuckles Snap Circuits. I think I need to learn more about how circuits work, so I will play with him. My mother-in-law is getting him some Ninjago at his request.
Love the taste of real butter but hate how hard it is to spread when it comes out of the fridge? If so, you need a butter boat that keeps your butter cool enough to prevent spoilage on the kitchen counter but warm enough to spread.
Did you want to share any items you've found or hot gifts for this season? You can buy until Monday on amazon for Free Super Saver by Christmas (I think).
Monday, December 12, 2011
Different (and not in a good way)
Saturday night, I sneezed.
.
.
.
.
.
And then,
.
.
.
.
.
I had to go change my pants. Off to go do some Kegels now.
.
.
.
.
.
And then,
.
.
.
.
.
I had to go change my pants. Off to go do some Kegels now.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
All is Bright
Everything is going along swimmingly.
I am 95% done with any and all Christmas shopping for which I am specifically responsible. At some point in the next 2 weeks, my husband will announce that we need gifts for his father and mother. I will laugh at him and tell him that I asked him a month ago for ideas and would have been move than happy in November to take care of that for him, but not now. Maybe gift cards. Or something from amazon. I really do love amazon. Really.
I've decided that Christmas cookies are just too taxing this year and I am buying pre-formed dough from Chuckles's school. I will bake and decorate those sugar cookies myself (with help of children) and pass them off as homemade. I feel more guilt over this than almost anything because I like baking, however....
I have been having exercise-induced Braxton Hicks contractions, and standing and rolling dough and baking just aren't sounding all that fun this year. Other non-fun things: climbing stairs, bending over to pick things up off of the ground, and walking. You would be amazed at how many times per day you do those things. I am really glad that my job involves sitting for 7 hours per day (or more if I don't feel like walking...my young engineers (minions) will retrieve documents from the printer for me).
When not exercising, I still feel quite good. I'm not sore or anything yet, though I am apparently quite large.
We went to a gala on Saturday night. Many, many strangers asked me when I was due. The good news is I look pregnant, not fat. But I thought the rule was you never ever ever (ever) ask that of a woman unless she herself has first indicated that there is a baby in there lest you potentially embarass yourself. The food at the gala was delightful, but the wine looked deliciously off-limits. The band was good as well, but dancing is too much like both standing and exercising, so we ended up dancing to 75% of one slow song. Not nearly enough. The Stanley Paul Orchestra is one of my favorite live bands in Chicago.
I went downtown for a work meeting. There was a bit of a walk from the train to the meeting. I walked very slowly and all was well. I started to feel a little bad on the walk back to the train, but all-in-all, I am still capable of taking care of myself. Although, last weekend, I wanted to ride around Target in a motorized scooter.
Have I ever mentioned that I carry low? Well, I do. Very low. Like between my knees low. In fact, I cannot wear maternity pants that go below the belly because the only thing below my belly is my bikini area...not really the kind of place you want a lot of fabic bunching up and puffing out. So, I wear pants with a kangaroo pouch, but I think I might need to hang my jeans up for the duration because even having non-stretchy fabric below my belly now is getting a little...pinchy?
And the outside kids are doing well too. Chuckles continues to enjoy Cub Scouts and be indifferent toward school (which is fine, really). He delights in locating the Elf on the Shelf every morning before his brother wakes up. He also likes to turn on the Christmas tree.
Bobo enjoys his tumbling class, has made great strides in speech (he's using an L sound now, though he's producing it by putting his tongue against his bottom teeth), and is finding numbers and letters everywhere (that's 3 and I am 3 years old). I keep thinking of him as a baby, but he's not. He's 3. Now, if only he would wear underpants....
I am 95% done with any and all Christmas shopping for which I am specifically responsible. At some point in the next 2 weeks, my husband will announce that we need gifts for his father and mother. I will laugh at him and tell him that I asked him a month ago for ideas and would have been move than happy in November to take care of that for him, but not now. Maybe gift cards. Or something from amazon. I really do love amazon. Really.
I've decided that Christmas cookies are just too taxing this year and I am buying pre-formed dough from Chuckles's school. I will bake and decorate those sugar cookies myself (with help of children) and pass them off as homemade. I feel more guilt over this than almost anything because I like baking, however....
I have been having exercise-induced Braxton Hicks contractions, and standing and rolling dough and baking just aren't sounding all that fun this year. Other non-fun things: climbing stairs, bending over to pick things up off of the ground, and walking. You would be amazed at how many times per day you do those things. I am really glad that my job involves sitting for 7 hours per day (or more if I don't feel like walking...my young engineers (minions) will retrieve documents from the printer for me).
When not exercising, I still feel quite good. I'm not sore or anything yet, though I am apparently quite large.
We went to a gala on Saturday night. Many, many strangers asked me when I was due. The good news is I look pregnant, not fat. But I thought the rule was you never ever ever (ever) ask that of a woman unless she herself has first indicated that there is a baby in there lest you potentially embarass yourself. The food at the gala was delightful, but the wine looked deliciously off-limits. The band was good as well, but dancing is too much like both standing and exercising, so we ended up dancing to 75% of one slow song. Not nearly enough. The Stanley Paul Orchestra is one of my favorite live bands in Chicago.
I went downtown for a work meeting. There was a bit of a walk from the train to the meeting. I walked very slowly and all was well. I started to feel a little bad on the walk back to the train, but all-in-all, I am still capable of taking care of myself. Although, last weekend, I wanted to ride around Target in a motorized scooter.
Have I ever mentioned that I carry low? Well, I do. Very low. Like between my knees low. In fact, I cannot wear maternity pants that go below the belly because the only thing below my belly is my bikini area...not really the kind of place you want a lot of fabic bunching up and puffing out. So, I wear pants with a kangaroo pouch, but I think I might need to hang my jeans up for the duration because even having non-stretchy fabric below my belly now is getting a little...pinchy?
And the outside kids are doing well too. Chuckles continues to enjoy Cub Scouts and be indifferent toward school (which is fine, really). He delights in locating the Elf on the Shelf every morning before his brother wakes up. He also likes to turn on the Christmas tree.
Bobo enjoys his tumbling class, has made great strides in speech (he's using an L sound now, though he's producing it by putting his tongue against his bottom teeth), and is finding numbers and letters everywhere (that's 3 and I am 3 years old). I keep thinking of him as a baby, but he's not. He's 3. Now, if only he would wear underpants....
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Transference
We had our mini-re-org at work. I was mostly unaffected. I wanted to be left alone to do my job, and that’s been done. However, they want me to move my desk closer to …something. I don’t know. I guess they want me to give up my very remote office in the plant to come to our main office building and work in a cubicle.
I’ve had my own office for 8 years now. I have to say that I am a fan. It’s not a status thing because my office is in a trailer and it’s far from luxurious, but I love it because it’s quiet, no one is around, and it’s private. And mine.
With an office, I have always just pumped at my desk and gone right on working. I never felt guilty about the 40-45 minutes a day spent pumping since it was also productive time. The building they want me to move to does not have a lactation room (and I am pretty sure cubicle dwellers do not pump at their desks). Even with a lactation room, I would have to leave my desk and go to a room and just pump (I guess I could bring a book). But there is no lactation room. And I really don’t want to be that woman who agitates for what the law allows. And I don’t want to pump in the bathroom because it’s a bathroom in a factory. It’s not a place I’d want to feed my baby. I’ve told my boss my reasons for not wanting to move to the cubicle, but I am not sure he understands what a large deal it is for me. And I am blowing it totally out of proportion in my mind, because….
Transference. According to Wikipedia, transference is “the redirection of feelings and desires … toward a new object.” Basically that means, I am worried about something else, but that something else is too hard to think about so I am worried about whether I am going to end up pumping in the janitors’ closet with a wedge holding the door shut while I try to keep housekeeping out by pushing on the door and saying “There’s someone in here.” (True story, by the way, from someone who works in the building where they want me to move.)
I still hadn’t heard back from my doctor about whether he was able to order the fetal DNA test, so I called today. The assistant said it’s not ordered according to my chart but she would check with the doctor and get back to me tomorrow. And then it’s at least 2 weeks after that before I have results anyway (if they can even get me this cutting-edge, brand-new test). And then even if the DNA is good, it could still be cystic fibrosis, CMV, or toxoplasmosis (more tests I guess I should have). And I’m worried. For a variety of reasons. But the biggest reason I worry is that I won’t be a good enough mom to a special needs child.
I re-read the email Sarah Palin (you don’t have to be her fan to read this next part) sent to her family shortly before Trig was born. She believes in God. She sounded so accepting and loving toward her son both because he is her son and also because he is a creation of her God. She just sounded so “at peace” with the whole situation. I don’t know whether I can live up to that. Her email is lovely, though, so I am going to quote some of it because it does give me something to strive for (even for my “perfect” children and even though I don't believe in her God). She wrote the email to her friends and family as if it was from God.
I think back to when I was pregnant with Chuckles a million years ago. He wasn’t a big mover. I’d often have to drink some hot cocoa to get any movement out of him for hours on end. I worried. But when he was born, I was so connected with him. He looked just like his ultrasound profile photo that I recognized him immediately. I knew his cry. We were so connected. I loved him so much.
When I was pregnant with Bobo, I assumed it would be the same. It wasn’t. He moved in utero. A lot. All the time, really. When he was born, he didn’t look like his ultrasound, he didn’t look like his brother, I didn’t recognize him (though I did know his cry). The love wasn’t instantaneous this time. It took a while, but eventually, I came to love Bobo just as much as I loved Chuckles.
So, I wasn’t sure which way it would go this time around. Muse moves quite a bit. Probably more even than Bobo. I have these ultrasound photos (now in 3D, which they didn’t have with Chuckles). Muse seems to look like Bobo. Maybe I will recognize him when he’s born. Maybe I will know his cry in my heart as soon as I hear it. Maybe he will look like Bobo but have Chuckles’s coloring. Who knows? I am sure I will love Muse (either immediately, or eventually). I am sure I will protect him and do everything I can for him. But I am fairly certain I won’t be a perfect mom.
I’ve had my own office for 8 years now. I have to say that I am a fan. It’s not a status thing because my office is in a trailer and it’s far from luxurious, but I love it because it’s quiet, no one is around, and it’s private. And mine.
With an office, I have always just pumped at my desk and gone right on working. I never felt guilty about the 40-45 minutes a day spent pumping since it was also productive time. The building they want me to move to does not have a lactation room (and I am pretty sure cubicle dwellers do not pump at their desks). Even with a lactation room, I would have to leave my desk and go to a room and just pump (I guess I could bring a book). But there is no lactation room. And I really don’t want to be that woman who agitates for what the law allows. And I don’t want to pump in the bathroom because it’s a bathroom in a factory. It’s not a place I’d want to feed my baby. I’ve told my boss my reasons for not wanting to move to the cubicle, but I am not sure he understands what a large deal it is for me. And I am blowing it totally out of proportion in my mind, because….
Transference. According to Wikipedia, transference is “the redirection of feelings and desires … toward a new object.” Basically that means, I am worried about something else, but that something else is too hard to think about so I am worried about whether I am going to end up pumping in the janitors’ closet with a wedge holding the door shut while I try to keep housekeeping out by pushing on the door and saying “There’s someone in here.” (True story, by the way, from someone who works in the building where they want me to move.)
I still hadn’t heard back from my doctor about whether he was able to order the fetal DNA test, so I called today. The assistant said it’s not ordered according to my chart but she would check with the doctor and get back to me tomorrow. And then it’s at least 2 weeks after that before I have results anyway (if they can even get me this cutting-edge, brand-new test). And then even if the DNA is good, it could still be cystic fibrosis, CMV, or toxoplasmosis (more tests I guess I should have). And I’m worried. For a variety of reasons. But the biggest reason I worry is that I won’t be a good enough mom to a special needs child.
I re-read the email Sarah Palin (you don’t have to be her fan to read this next part) sent to her family shortly before Trig was born. She believes in God. She sounded so accepting and loving toward her son both because he is her son and also because he is a creation of her God. She just sounded so “at peace” with the whole situation. I don’t know whether I can live up to that. Her email is lovely, though, so I am going to quote some of it because it does give me something to strive for (even for my “perfect” children and even though I don't believe in her God). She wrote the email to her friends and family as if it was from God.
They were told in early tests that Trig may provide more challenges, and more joy, than what they ever may have imagined or ever asked for. At first the news seemed unreal and sad and confusing. But I gave Trig's mom and dad lots of time to think about it because they needed lots of time to understand that everything will be OK, in fact, everything will be great, because I only want the best for you!So, I guess one of my worries is that I just won’t be good enough to be Muse’s mother if it turns out that Muse faces special challenges. Of course, intellectually I know that the chances of anything being “wrong” are low. And of course, my brain knows that I will be an awesome mom regardless (who will pump breast milk in her car, if necessary). But. But, I worry. It’s what I do. I am sleeping and working and having 18 people for dinner (someone brought an extra guest…YAY) and shopping for Christmas and keeping myself very busy so I don’t have time to dwell. But….when I am in the car by myself driving home, I worry. And sometimes, I cry.
This new person in your life can help everyone put things in perspective and bind us together and get everyone focused on what really matters.
The baby will expand your world and let you see and feel things you haven't experienced yet. He'll show you what "true, brave victory" really means as those who love him will think less about self and focus less on what the world tells you is "normal" or "perfect". You will grow and be blessed with greater understanding that will be born along with Trig.
Every child is created special, with awesome purpose and amazing potential. Children are the most precious and promising ingredient in this mixed up world you live in down there on earth. Trig is no different, except he has one extra chromosome.
Some of the rest of the world may not want him, but take comfort in that because the world will not compete for him. Take care of him and he will always be yours!
Many people won't understand... and I understand that. Some will think Trig should not be allowed to be born because they fear a Downs child won't be considered "perfect" in your world. (But tell me, what do you earthlings consider "perfect" or even "normal" anyway? …)
Many people will express sympathy, but you don't want or need that, because Trig will be a joy. You will have to trust me on this.
I think back to when I was pregnant with Chuckles a million years ago. He wasn’t a big mover. I’d often have to drink some hot cocoa to get any movement out of him for hours on end. I worried. But when he was born, I was so connected with him. He looked just like his ultrasound profile photo that I recognized him immediately. I knew his cry. We were so connected. I loved him so much.
When I was pregnant with Bobo, I assumed it would be the same. It wasn’t. He moved in utero. A lot. All the time, really. When he was born, he didn’t look like his ultrasound, he didn’t look like his brother, I didn’t recognize him (though I did know his cry). The love wasn’t instantaneous this time. It took a while, but eventually, I came to love Bobo just as much as I loved Chuckles.
So, I wasn’t sure which way it would go this time around. Muse moves quite a bit. Probably more even than Bobo. I have these ultrasound photos (now in 3D, which they didn’t have with Chuckles). Muse seems to look like Bobo. Maybe I will recognize him when he’s born. Maybe I will know his cry in my heart as soon as I hear it. Maybe he will look like Bobo but have Chuckles’s coloring. Who knows? I am sure I will love Muse (either immediately, or eventually). I am sure I will protect him and do everything I can for him. But I am fairly certain I won’t be a perfect mom.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The Menu
If you were coming to my house for dinner tomorrow (and you totally should because there is going to be way too much food for just the 17 of us), you would be dining on the following menu, which I share in the interest of regional diversity. I hear that in the south, they call stuffing “dressing” and sometimes make it with corn bread. I hear that some people have macaroni and cheese as one of the side dishes/casseroles. I even learned about people who eat, gasp, ham on Thanksgiving.
Appetizer course:
Appetizer course:
- Veggie tray with dip (including black olives that children must, by law, wear on their fingers and then eat off)
- Spinach Dip and Hawaiian Bread
Main Event:
- Turkey (creole butter injected, cajuned on the outside, deep fried in peanut oil)
- Gravy (homemade but without pan drippings I can’t quite remember how to do this…I’ll figure it out)
- Hungarian sausage made by the little old ladies at the church down the street, possibly sauerkraut and pickled beets to go with it (totally not my thing, but everyone always enjoys it)
- Salad (from a bag but I’ll homemake the dressing)
- Rolls (heat and serve, or possibly Pillsbury from the tube, I delegated the purchasing of the rolls to a family member)
- Mashed potatoes (with garlic, butter, and heavy cream)
- Sweet potatoes, candied with butter and brown sugar
- Stuffing made with giblets (from my mother-in-law)
- Stuffing made with sage and celery (made by me)
- Green bean casserole with French’s onions on top
- Broccoli Cream Corn casserole (which is a cross between a quiche and a soufflé and has bacon on top)
- Corn, buttered (also delegated because I don’t care for corn, but I have heard that children like corn)
- My mother is bringing something…I don’t know what it is…she said it has green Jell-o and pistachios in it. I’m not a huge fan of Jell-o salads myself, but she assures me that it is not a holiday without this.
- Cranberry Jell-o (which I made for my husband...it's his favorite cranberry and so easy)
- Cranberry relish (which is so good…I begged my mother-in-law to make it)
- Cranberries from a can, turned out into a pretty dish, with the can marks still clearly visible
- Pumpkin pies, 2, with whipped cream from an aerosol can
- Apple slices, sheet cake size
- Pumpkin crunch, possibly…I have the ingredients but I’m not sure I’ll make it
- Various coffees, creamers, egg nogs, hot cococa, whiskey, rum, Kahlua, and Bailey's for the Irishing
- Champagne, Korbel or Frexinet
- Beaujolais Nuveau or a Heritage White (served with dinner...water and milk for the children, the pregnant, and the recovering alcoholics)
- pecan pie
- extra pumpkin pies
- sweet potato pie
- deep fried Twinkies (done in the oil before we put the Cajun turkey in)
- any new recipes at all except for the thing my mom is bringing
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Follow-Up
Clarification: I feel like I should say that we’re doing OK. I mean, nothing is certain in life – ever, and certainly, we don’t know that anything is ‘wrong’ with this pregnancy. In fact, it is highly likely that everything is fine. We just don’t know. And for an information junkie, like me, you might think that was a recipe for crazy-making. But it’s not and I’m actually OK. If I was just saying that and didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t be sleeping well, but I am (when Bobo’s cough lets me).
The reason I’m OK: let’s assume we get a worst-case diagnosis (which we probably won’t but this is just for argument’s sake). There are worse things in the world than congenital CMV, Down Syndrome, or cystic fibrosis. In the grand scheme, problems with your baby go from the mild like having a baby elf ear to anencephaly with a whole lot of middle ground like asthma, albinism, and left-handedness (joke!).
So, really, we’re keeping it all in perspective. There are conditions that I would find much more frightening, and there are cases where we would opt for the amnio. And we even agree that there are conditions that would cause us to terminate.
So, the less-than-totally-reassuring ultrasound was on Tuesday. Thursday was my regularly-scheduled ob appointment. My doctor is originally from Long Island (his practice was in Hauppauge for years) so we small-talked about my recent trip for a good while (and the relative merits of dividend stocks versus bonds versus funds of stocks/bonds…good times at the ob). Then I hopped up on the table for my Doppler. I told him I went for my Level II and blah blah blah. He said the placenta thing was no big deal but if it’s not him performing the c-section to make sure my husband mentions it. Then I told him about the two soft markers, and he asked how the amnio went. He was shocked, *shocked*, that we had elected not to do it (and frankly, so am I). I told him my husband was not in favor of it, and I had to defer to him a little on this one (so not like me) because the benefit, in this case, did not outweigh the risk to the pregnancy and Muse.
I asked my ob if I could get the MaternitT21 test. He said, “Sure, if you tell me how to get it for you.” I handed him a piece of paper on which I had written the company’s name, phone number, physician ordering info, etc. He said someone (like a drug rep except, I guess it would be a test rep) had been in to talk to them about it. He said he hadn’t reviewed the journal articles and didn’t know how accurate it was (I said I have but I don’t know how reputable the journal was). So, we talked about that for a bit, and he said he’d call and find out how to get the test for me. Since someone had been in to talk to him, I assume that we are close enough to Chicago metro to get the test. He hasn’t called back yet.
If I don’t get the fetal DNA test, we might elect to have the amnio after the next ultrasound if the soft markers persist. Ideally, I would like the amnio at 36 weeks. If it sends me into labor, no big deal (well, actually 4 weeks premature is a tiny bit of a big deal in a boy but you get the idea). The results take 2 weeks so we would have them before a scheduled c-section at 39.5 weeks. If that doesn’t work out, we’ll probably take the umbilical cord blood at birth and have tests run on it. It’s a plan. And I do better with a plan.
In other news, Bobo had his 3-year well-“baby” visit. He got his new Prevnar-13 vaccine and I could not possibly be happier about this. My husband took him for the visit, so I actually got a call from the exam room to follow along with the appointment. I had guessed that he no longer had an ear tube in his right but still had one in his left. I WIN! Woo Woo. That’s just how it is (he had done the tiniest big of tugging at his right ear on the plane and I noticed a very small amount of drainage from his left during his recent cold…so I figured right side is closed up now and left is not). He passed his eye chart exam, his pulse is good and strong, his blood pressure was fine, he didn’t need a lead screening again. He is 36 pounds and 39-1/4” tall. Those are both between the 75th and 90th percentiles, so he’s proportional. He has a head cold (which we knew…see also, the coughing). He is on track and on target for everything. And every time someone tells me this, I am so happy because we had been so worried about him. But no more.
In different other news, in between the ultrasound and the ob visit, we had Chuckles’s parent-teacher conference. Not the most amazing conference I’ve ever had about him. The teacher asked us what our long-term plan is with him, “With all his eccentricities, are you going to put him in a lab school?” Uh, no, we were hoping you were going to teach him something here in our suburban, well-regarded, well-funded school system. Guess not. We’re holding on to hope for 3rd grade when they finally start the clustering by class for kids of same ability.
Chuckles is a handful, this much I know. He’s bright, but he is not a hard worker (or maybe just not self-motivated yet). He’s easily distracted and chatty (but I keep telling myself, he’s 6…seems normal and typical to me). He needs to learn about the joy and value of work. He’s never had to work at anything in his life (nothing, really..he’s athletic, has friends…once he gets over the shy thing, artistic, funny, somewhat musical, and smart…he even cooks and has family members ask him for the recipes he’s invented). I would really like him to have a teacher who would challenge him (as his father and I do…we do not accept that he’s only a kid and let him go on not knowing about internal combustion engines or WWII). I think if properly challenged in a classroom environment, he could learn about struggling to understand a concept and about the reward/payoff that comes with mastery. You don’t get that sense of accomplishment when someone asks you to count to 100 or tell time to the hour when you’ve been doing that for 3 years. I do understand about state standards and being measured against a standardized test…that’s how our school district got well-regarded, but this is my kid and I really would like them to teach him something.
So, he has an enrichment folder, but he needs to be self-taught and self-motivated to complete it in his free time (while also being expected to do the regular grade-level work…which I was assured is mandated by the state curriculum law). He feels a little punished because he has to do “more” work than the other kids. The teacher said he should feel grateful for going to such a good school that even offers him these opportunities. I see her point, but I think I understand Chuckles’s point more. He does not like to be singled out (that’s the shy). However, there is at least one other kid in the classroom with a folder and he likes her so I told him that he needed to step up and get some of the work done because she was getting ahead of him (very competitive, that child). We’ve already seen some improvement on the folder front, so we’ll see how it goes. And I already know who I am going to request/suggest he get as a teacher next year.
In other, other news, I have 17 people coming to dinner on Thursday and we’re frying a Cajun style turkey (again). We get raves over the turkey every year so we just keep hosting the holiday. I can't wait to turn the cranberries out of the can onto a pretty crystal plate. That contrast is the highlight for me.
Things for which I am thankful: my family, our health, our love.
The reason I’m OK: let’s assume we get a worst-case diagnosis (which we probably won’t but this is just for argument’s sake). There are worse things in the world than congenital CMV, Down Syndrome, or cystic fibrosis. In the grand scheme, problems with your baby go from the mild like having a baby elf ear to anencephaly with a whole lot of middle ground like asthma, albinism, and left-handedness (joke!).
So, really, we’re keeping it all in perspective. There are conditions that I would find much more frightening, and there are cases where we would opt for the amnio. And we even agree that there are conditions that would cause us to terminate.
So, the less-than-totally-reassuring ultrasound was on Tuesday. Thursday was my regularly-scheduled ob appointment. My doctor is originally from Long Island (his practice was in Hauppauge for years) so we small-talked about my recent trip for a good while (and the relative merits of dividend stocks versus bonds versus funds of stocks/bonds…good times at the ob). Then I hopped up on the table for my Doppler. I told him I went for my Level II and blah blah blah. He said the placenta thing was no big deal but if it’s not him performing the c-section to make sure my husband mentions it. Then I told him about the two soft markers, and he asked how the amnio went. He was shocked, *shocked*, that we had elected not to do it (and frankly, so am I). I told him my husband was not in favor of it, and I had to defer to him a little on this one (so not like me) because the benefit, in this case, did not outweigh the risk to the pregnancy and Muse.
I asked my ob if I could get the MaternitT21 test. He said, “Sure, if you tell me how to get it for you.” I handed him a piece of paper on which I had written the company’s name, phone number, physician ordering info, etc. He said someone (like a drug rep except, I guess it would be a test rep) had been in to talk to them about it. He said he hadn’t reviewed the journal articles and didn’t know how accurate it was (I said I have but I don’t know how reputable the journal was). So, we talked about that for a bit, and he said he’d call and find out how to get the test for me. Since someone had been in to talk to him, I assume that we are close enough to Chicago metro to get the test. He hasn’t called back yet.
If I don’t get the fetal DNA test, we might elect to have the amnio after the next ultrasound if the soft markers persist. Ideally, I would like the amnio at 36 weeks. If it sends me into labor, no big deal (well, actually 4 weeks premature is a tiny bit of a big deal in a boy but you get the idea). The results take 2 weeks so we would have them before a scheduled c-section at 39.5 weeks. If that doesn’t work out, we’ll probably take the umbilical cord blood at birth and have tests run on it. It’s a plan. And I do better with a plan.
In other news, Bobo had his 3-year well-“baby” visit. He got his new Prevnar-13 vaccine and I could not possibly be happier about this. My husband took him for the visit, so I actually got a call from the exam room to follow along with the appointment. I had guessed that he no longer had an ear tube in his right but still had one in his left. I WIN! Woo Woo. That’s just how it is (he had done the tiniest big of tugging at his right ear on the plane and I noticed a very small amount of drainage from his left during his recent cold…so I figured right side is closed up now and left is not). He passed his eye chart exam, his pulse is good and strong, his blood pressure was fine, he didn’t need a lead screening again. He is 36 pounds and 39-1/4” tall. Those are both between the 75th and 90th percentiles, so he’s proportional. He has a head cold (which we knew…see also, the coughing). He is on track and on target for everything. And every time someone tells me this, I am so happy because we had been so worried about him. But no more.
In different other news, in between the ultrasound and the ob visit, we had Chuckles’s parent-teacher conference. Not the most amazing conference I’ve ever had about him. The teacher asked us what our long-term plan is with him, “With all his eccentricities, are you going to put him in a lab school?” Uh, no, we were hoping you were going to teach him something here in our suburban, well-regarded, well-funded school system. Guess not. We’re holding on to hope for 3rd grade when they finally start the clustering by class for kids of same ability.
Chuckles is a handful, this much I know. He’s bright, but he is not a hard worker (or maybe just not self-motivated yet). He’s easily distracted and chatty (but I keep telling myself, he’s 6…seems normal and typical to me). He needs to learn about the joy and value of work. He’s never had to work at anything in his life (nothing, really..he’s athletic, has friends…once he gets over the shy thing, artistic, funny, somewhat musical, and smart…he even cooks and has family members ask him for the recipes he’s invented). I would really like him to have a teacher who would challenge him (as his father and I do…we do not accept that he’s only a kid and let him go on not knowing about internal combustion engines or WWII). I think if properly challenged in a classroom environment, he could learn about struggling to understand a concept and about the reward/payoff that comes with mastery. You don’t get that sense of accomplishment when someone asks you to count to 100 or tell time to the hour when you’ve been doing that for 3 years. I do understand about state standards and being measured against a standardized test…that’s how our school district got well-regarded, but this is my kid and I really would like them to teach him something.
So, he has an enrichment folder, but he needs to be self-taught and self-motivated to complete it in his free time (while also being expected to do the regular grade-level work…which I was assured is mandated by the state curriculum law). He feels a little punished because he has to do “more” work than the other kids. The teacher said he should feel grateful for going to such a good school that even offers him these opportunities. I see her point, but I think I understand Chuckles’s point more. He does not like to be singled out (that’s the shy). However, there is at least one other kid in the classroom with a folder and he likes her so I told him that he needed to step up and get some of the work done because she was getting ahead of him (very competitive, that child). We’ve already seen some improvement on the folder front, so we’ll see how it goes. And I already know who I am going to request/suggest he get as a teacher next year.
In other, other news, I have 17 people coming to dinner on Thursday and we’re frying a Cajun style turkey (again). We get raves over the turkey every year so we just keep hosting the holiday. I can't wait to turn the cranberries out of the can onto a pretty crystal plate. That contrast is the highlight for me.
Things for which I am thankful: my family, our health, our love.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Level II
I don’t know where to begin, so I will start in the middle. It seems like the right place to start.
As I mentioned, I am AMA (queue forboding music). One of the perks of being a geriatric pregnant person is the Terrorist Threat Level Orange ultrasound (aka Level II). Because I live in a major metropolitan area, I have my choice of several maternal fetal medicine practices. I opted to go with University of Chicago because of geographical proximity (and it’s not like U of C is Joe’s Ultrasound Quik Shop).
I have been extremely satisfied with their practice (even the billing that’s all messed up is corrected quickly and cheerfully). Because well over half of all births in Indiana are paid for by Medicaid, my regular OB’s office often feels like one of those overcrowded trains in other countries where the people are crammed into the train with a very nice but firm stick (I’m thinking bullet trains in Japan and stereotypes of India). We’re all crammed in there together. The MFM practice is calm. Relaxing even. Well, it was once we found the volume knob on the TV.
So, on Tuesday, they scanned Muse for an hour. The ultrasound tech said very few things during this time. I kind of prefer a guided tour of my uterus but since he was typing captions on the photos, I was able to keep up. 4CH means a 4-chambered heart, CX is a nice photo of my 4.75 cm long cervix, Chor Plex is tasty, tasty brains and so on. Because this is a MFM practice, you go from the ultrasound room to a meeting with the doctor to go over whatever they saw (which I like to call the part where they just tell you your baby is big, beautiful, and they wish all their patients were just like you). However, we couldn’t go right in to see the doctor because he was delivering triplets just then. So, we had to wait. No biggie. They told us to go get something to eat and don’t bother coming back for at least a half hour.
So, Mr. Long-Suffering and I went for chili cheese fries and a chocolate shake at 10 am. I don’t think I could have looked any more like a stereotypically pregnant person if I had been holding my back and walking around barefoot. When we got back, The View was on TV (see volume adjustment). As a total aside, the correct answer, when asked “Are you sexually attracted to children?”, is “No.” I would also accept “Hell no!” or “Oh my god, no.” Anyway, it was only a few more minutes and we got in to see the doctor. He went over all the photos but they weren’t in the order they were taken and they weren’t in the order on his review sheet. Three kinds of pictures were saved for the end.
The first was the photos of the placenta. Apparently, Muse has a two-lobed placenta that does not cross the cervix. It’s a minor concern in a planned c-section. If it was undiagnosed, a vaginal delivery, crossed the placenta, or had umbilical insertion in the connecting tissues or on the smaller lobe, it could be a concern, but in a planned section, it’s fine. It is worth knowing about, though, because it’s important that both lobes are removed to avoid retained placenta and all the pain and blood loss associated with that.
Next, we looked at the heart (4CH). There must have been 30 pictures of the heart and Doppler blood flows thereof. The heart has an echogenic intracardiac focus. This is just a small area of the heart that is brighter (white) than everything else. It could be a small calcification or something – nothing of clinical significance. It could also be a soft marker for Down Syndrome. It’s a weak soft marker (depending on the study, it either doubles a woman’s risk or makes it up to a 1% chance).
Lastly, we looked at the bowel. It was echogenic as well. An echogenic bowel can be caused by one of several things: nothing at all, the fetus swallowed blood during a bleeding/spotting episode earlier in pregnancy, cycstic fibrosis, toxoplasmosis, CMV, and Down Syndrome. At this point, I really had wished we’d been able to do the combined nuchal screening and blood tests. As he rattled off possible casues, I had an answer for everything. My bleeding was between 3.5 and 5 weeks, which is before the fetus had a mouth so could not have swallowed blood. I am not a carrier of CF (checked while pregnant with Chuckles) so even if my husband is a carrier, the baby does not have CF. I was negative for toxoplasmosis in August, our cat lives indoors, and I haven’t been cleaning her litter, and I wear gloves when gardening and wash my hands afterwards. I donated blood (which pregnant, actually) and am negative for CMV, and Bobo does not go to childcare or pre-school. I do not visit elderly relatives in nursing homes.
And Down Syndrome. I told the MFM that I had the quad screen done, and I screened negative. I did not know my specifc numbers. My age related risk is 1:270. The receptionist called my OB. The office said my chart was down in medical records and it would take a half hour to get it faxed over. Ok, then. In the meantime, we went over family history, I was given a neuro exam to check the 12 nerves of my face, I had to breathe and be listened to. We were offered the amnio. We said we’d like to wait on the other test results before we decided. My husband (out of nowhere) said that the amnio results aren’t actionable, so why bother. I contradicted and said that we might choose to deliver at a different hospital if we had a known problem, plus I might make support arrangements for nursing if there were going to be any issues (though lip and palette are both cleft-free). The doctor merely said he had to offer it, but that he could talk statistics and odds with us. He said that no one really knows for sure but an echogenic focus in the heart and bowel are both weak markers for Down Syndrome. Possibly, they increase the background risk (not the age-related risk) by perhaps up to 10x (he really did hem and hawa nd perhaps and possibly that much...the studies just aren't there). He said that it isn’t really known how much, but it does increase the risk. I asked about the MaterniT21 test (it's new...it looks for fetal DNA in the mother's blood. It's highly accurate and non-invasive). He said it wasn't commercial. I said that it's been commercial for a month but has limited availability but is available in Chicago (apparently, not at U of C, though). It's only $235...if you can find someone to give it to you.
I said that I would want to amnio if my "new risk" were greater than my age related risk. My husband didn’t want it no matter what but said that it was ultimately my decision. I asked the doctor whether placental placement in my specific uterus meant that the procedure was riskier than typical (answer: no). He asked us about blood types (both O+) and allergies to metals (yep, nickel) and drugs (yep, penicillin), etc.
Then we were asked to sit back in the waiting room. After an hour of that, I called my OB’s office and asked where my test results were. Many, many happy smiling patients and families clutching ultrasound photos came and went in the time we waited. Each of their consults lasted about 10 minutes. Ours had already been more than half an hour and we still weren't done. At this point, I was so happy I had eaten. Then the doctor came in, called my OB’s office, read them the riot act, and our results were faxed over. My age-related risk of Down Syndrome is 1 in 258. My Age+Screen result is <1 in 5000. So, even using the worst case scenario numbers of 10x increased risk, we’re still only looking at <1 in 500. That’s >499 in 500 are genetically normal. We opted not to get the amnio, and left the office about 5 hours after we had arrived. I am getting re-scanned in 8 weeks to follow-up on the heart.
That’s all I know.
Oh, actually, I convinced my husband that even outside of termination (or, interruption, as the doctor put it), results of an amnio are actionable. I convinced him that if there were a heart defect, I would prefer to deliver at the hospital where any necessary surgery could be performed. I wouldn’t have to be separated from him and the baby while they were transferred (or something). Though, my husband did say he would like to ride in a helicopter (but not with a critically ill neo-nate).
As I mentioned, I am AMA (queue forboding music). One of the perks of being a geriatric pregnant person is the Terrorist Threat Level Orange ultrasound (aka Level II). Because I live in a major metropolitan area, I have my choice of several maternal fetal medicine practices. I opted to go with University of Chicago because of geographical proximity (and it’s not like U of C is Joe’s Ultrasound Quik Shop).
I have been extremely satisfied with their practice (even the billing that’s all messed up is corrected quickly and cheerfully). Because well over half of all births in Indiana are paid for by Medicaid, my regular OB’s office often feels like one of those overcrowded trains in other countries where the people are crammed into the train with a very nice but firm stick (I’m thinking bullet trains in Japan and stereotypes of India). We’re all crammed in there together. The MFM practice is calm. Relaxing even. Well, it was once we found the volume knob on the TV.
So, on Tuesday, they scanned Muse for an hour. The ultrasound tech said very few things during this time. I kind of prefer a guided tour of my uterus but since he was typing captions on the photos, I was able to keep up. 4CH means a 4-chambered heart, CX is a nice photo of my 4.75 cm long cervix, Chor Plex is tasty, tasty brains and so on. Because this is a MFM practice, you go from the ultrasound room to a meeting with the doctor to go over whatever they saw (which I like to call the part where they just tell you your baby is big, beautiful, and they wish all their patients were just like you). However, we couldn’t go right in to see the doctor because he was delivering triplets just then. So, we had to wait. No biggie. They told us to go get something to eat and don’t bother coming back for at least a half hour.
So, Mr. Long-Suffering and I went for chili cheese fries and a chocolate shake at 10 am. I don’t think I could have looked any more like a stereotypically pregnant person if I had been holding my back and walking around barefoot. When we got back, The View was on TV (see volume adjustment). As a total aside, the correct answer, when asked “Are you sexually attracted to children?”, is “No.” I would also accept “Hell no!” or “Oh my god, no.” Anyway, it was only a few more minutes and we got in to see the doctor. He went over all the photos but they weren’t in the order they were taken and they weren’t in the order on his review sheet. Three kinds of pictures were saved for the end.
The first was the photos of the placenta. Apparently, Muse has a two-lobed placenta that does not cross the cervix. It’s a minor concern in a planned c-section. If it was undiagnosed, a vaginal delivery, crossed the placenta, or had umbilical insertion in the connecting tissues or on the smaller lobe, it could be a concern, but in a planned section, it’s fine. It is worth knowing about, though, because it’s important that both lobes are removed to avoid retained placenta and all the pain and blood loss associated with that.
Next, we looked at the heart (4CH). There must have been 30 pictures of the heart and Doppler blood flows thereof. The heart has an echogenic intracardiac focus. This is just a small area of the heart that is brighter (white) than everything else. It could be a small calcification or something – nothing of clinical significance. It could also be a soft marker for Down Syndrome. It’s a weak soft marker (depending on the study, it either doubles a woman’s risk or makes it up to a 1% chance).
Lastly, we looked at the bowel. It was echogenic as well. An echogenic bowel can be caused by one of several things: nothing at all, the fetus swallowed blood during a bleeding/spotting episode earlier in pregnancy, cycstic fibrosis, toxoplasmosis, CMV, and Down Syndrome. At this point, I really had wished we’d been able to do the combined nuchal screening and blood tests. As he rattled off possible casues, I had an answer for everything. My bleeding was between 3.5 and 5 weeks, which is before the fetus had a mouth so could not have swallowed blood. I am not a carrier of CF (checked while pregnant with Chuckles) so even if my husband is a carrier, the baby does not have CF. I was negative for toxoplasmosis in August, our cat lives indoors, and I haven’t been cleaning her litter, and I wear gloves when gardening and wash my hands afterwards. I donated blood (which pregnant, actually) and am negative for CMV, and Bobo does not go to childcare or pre-school. I do not visit elderly relatives in nursing homes.
And Down Syndrome. I told the MFM that I had the quad screen done, and I screened negative. I did not know my specifc numbers. My age related risk is 1:270. The receptionist called my OB. The office said my chart was down in medical records and it would take a half hour to get it faxed over. Ok, then. In the meantime, we went over family history, I was given a neuro exam to check the 12 nerves of my face, I had to breathe and be listened to. We were offered the amnio. We said we’d like to wait on the other test results before we decided. My husband (out of nowhere) said that the amnio results aren’t actionable, so why bother. I contradicted and said that we might choose to deliver at a different hospital if we had a known problem, plus I might make support arrangements for nursing if there were going to be any issues (though lip and palette are both cleft-free). The doctor merely said he had to offer it, but that he could talk statistics and odds with us. He said that no one really knows for sure but an echogenic focus in the heart and bowel are both weak markers for Down Syndrome. Possibly, they increase the background risk (not the age-related risk) by perhaps up to 10x (he really did hem and hawa nd perhaps and possibly that much...the studies just aren't there). He said that it isn’t really known how much, but it does increase the risk. I asked about the MaterniT21 test (it's new...it looks for fetal DNA in the mother's blood. It's highly accurate and non-invasive). He said it wasn't commercial. I said that it's been commercial for a month but has limited availability but is available in Chicago (apparently, not at U of C, though). It's only $235...if you can find someone to give it to you.
I said that I would want to amnio if my "new risk" were greater than my age related risk. My husband didn’t want it no matter what but said that it was ultimately my decision. I asked the doctor whether placental placement in my specific uterus meant that the procedure was riskier than typical (answer: no). He asked us about blood types (both O+) and allergies to metals (yep, nickel) and drugs (yep, penicillin), etc.
Then we were asked to sit back in the waiting room. After an hour of that, I called my OB’s office and asked where my test results were. Many, many happy smiling patients and families clutching ultrasound photos came and went in the time we waited. Each of their consults lasted about 10 minutes. Ours had already been more than half an hour and we still weren't done. At this point, I was so happy I had eaten. Then the doctor came in, called my OB’s office, read them the riot act, and our results were faxed over. My age-related risk of Down Syndrome is 1 in 258. My Age+Screen result is <1 in 5000. So, even using the worst case scenario numbers of 10x increased risk, we’re still only looking at <1 in 500. That’s >499 in 500 are genetically normal. We opted not to get the amnio, and left the office about 5 hours after we had arrived. I am getting re-scanned in 8 weeks to follow-up on the heart.
That’s all I know.
Oh, actually, I convinced my husband that even outside of termination (or, interruption, as the doctor put it), results of an amnio are actionable. I convinced him that if there were a heart defect, I would prefer to deliver at the hospital where any necessary surgery could be performed. I wouldn’t have to be separated from him and the baby while they were transferred (or something). Though, my husband did say he would like to ride in a helicopter (but not with a critically ill neo-nate).
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