Still here

A very, very quick post to say hello! Still here! Still pregnant! Unfortunately, also-- still no internet at home!

DSL think it's the landline, landline thinks it's the DSL. We'll see. I even have a backup meet-the-technician person scheduled, just in case I go into labor before the tech arrives.

Of course, I don't think that's going to happen. This baby is pretty darn comfortable, and I don't think she's going anywhere in the next few days.

If she does, at least the hospital has wifi, so I can post. :)

Waiting (in several different ways)

I'm stuck at home this beautiful Saturday morning, waiting for the meter reader (and when they say "between 8 and noon," I'm expecting him at 11:58), so I'm using the time to putter around the house. And, apparently, blog.

Quick thoughts before moving on to some articles that have appeared recently...

The last few weeks of pregnancy appear designed to:

1. Make you long to go into labor.
2. Make you not really care exactly how they get this baby out of you. C-section? Bring it on! Right now! Don't even wait for anaesthesia, doctor!
3. Make you appreciate your pre-third-trimester bladder capacity, however tiny it might have been at the time.

Enough said.

***

There have been a rash of articles lately about donor conception, based on a study done by the Commission for Parenthood's Future. The survey has concluded some very negative things about donor-conceived children, including confusion, depression, and other problems. (They also find an increased amount of issues with adopted children.)

There are problems with the survey. The organization that did the survey is a conservative group (including being anti-same sex marriage, and thinking climate change is bunk), so the possibility of survey bias is certainly there. People on one of my discussion lists have pointed out numerous issues with the survey itself, including how the survey sample was chosen (self-selected, rather than random), no control group used, the structure of the questions themselves, etc. Even to a stats amateur such as myself, there seems to be smoke and mirrors going on there.

After all, facts are stubborn things, but statistics are more pliable.

Even if you write off the survey organization themselves as hacks, though, it's worth considering the information, and the effect your choices have on your offspring. Do I think it's ideal to raise my daughter as a single mother? I do not. And, for the record, I have not given up the hope of finding a partner to share my life with, and to hopefully be a father figure for my child. (I don't think I'll give up on hoping for a partner even if I'm old and toothless in a nursing home, thanks.)

But for now, it's her and me. I hope I can rear her to be smart and confident, and to understand that however she was conceived, it was with a whole lot of love. I'm also going to make sure she meets other kids in similar family situations; I'm trying to stay active in my local single mom group for that reason. (It's also good support for me!) Families are all different shapes and sizes, and just like I want her growing up knowing people of all genders, races, ages, etc. and thinking that's completely normal, I want her growing up seeing that "family" is not a one size fits all definition.

Now, I'm using an "open ID donor," so I've made a choice that will allow my daughter to initiate contact with her donor once she's 18. I don't expect that this will make everything perfect, of course, but she'll know that I didn't close that door for her. (And, unlike one of the authors of the study, I will always be honest with my child about the circumstances of her conception. The truth will always out, whether it be donors or adoption, and secrets destroy. You just can't lie to kids.)

I'd love to see a rigorously conducted and peer-reviewed study on donor-conceived children of single parents (along the lines of the recent survey that showed children of lesbian parents have done extremely well-- look at the construction of that research vs. the CPF survey). (Note-- this link also provides info on the donor conception survey I'm discussing.) I'd like this very much.

But until we get that, I'm going to read the less-rigorous surveys for the information, but take them with a very large, and very crunchy, grain of salt.

Three weeks left

So much for keeping people posted with my blog, hm?

I’m still pregnant. 37 weeks, which means she can come any time and be just fine, medically speaking. But I’d like about another week and a half, to be honest— there are a few things I’d like to get done. (And if she hangs on past the weekend of the 26thth, I have a party and then a zoo outing I wouldn’t mind attending—though being not pregnant sounds awfully appealing.)

What’s great, though, is that there’s nothing overly critical that needs to happen. If she decides to make an appearance early, I have clothes, a place for her to sleep, bottles/formula (I am planning to bfeed, but you never know), diapers, and wipes. Anything else can be ordered online, or brought over by the kindness of friends.

It’s weird to know that, at pretty much any time, all my plans and schedules could go entirely out the window. As a planner, it’s kind of exciting yet crazy-making at the same time. Will I get all the baby clothes washed before she shows up? Will the glider come in? (Seriously, I ordered that dang glider when I was about five minutes pregnant. Oy. Bu.y Bu.y Baby, you are ON NOTICE.)

And speaking of baby clothes, this baby has a MOUNTAIN of them. Sadly, many of them are newborn or 0-3 months, which she may grow out of in the first five minutes of her life. I’m doing some judicious returns and getting larger sizes, where I can (note for future reference: always give a gift receipt; you don’t know what the new parent/s already have!). I don’t want her to be suddenly nekkid at six months, you know.

I’ve also been the very lucky beneficiary of some terrific hand-me-downs. This is, seriously, why I have so much stuff. I’ve gotten things at the showers, yes, but I’ve also gotten bags and boxes of wonderful, lovingly used clothes—some from people I don’t even know, but who heard through friends that I was pregnant and sent them along. The kindness that’s out there amazes me.

Although, as one friend told me, it’s a little bit of kindness and a whole lot of “Oh, yay! I can get these clothes out of my house and free up space!” ;)

I look forward to passing the clothes on, as well. For both reasons.

I do need to do a belly picture. I’m definitely visibly pregnant—no question any more—but keep being told that I do not look three weeks away from my due date. As one friend at work said, “You don’t look like you’re about to have a baby. You look like you had a big lunch.” While I think she is mostly just being kind, it’s nice not to be huge. Hello, I’m uncomfortable enough at this size!

But I’m still making it to the gym on weekends, and was at yoga tonight. That’s something.

And so it goes. I'm ready; I'm looking forward to meeting my daughter.

Getting along

...Wow. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry about that; this month has quickly gotten away from me. Work has been busy (and generally fulfilling, which is a nice change), I've been fairly active on weekends, and blogging has fallen by the wayside.

Still pregnant. I'm at 35 weeks tomorrow. In two weeks, I'll be at the point where they will consider the sproglet full-term, and not worry if I go into labor. Even if I go into labor right now (ack-- God forbid!) her medical problems should be minor and short-term. Everything's formed; she's just gaining weight and putting the finishing touches on her lungs.

So, at this point, I'm basically a slow cooker. Even if, on hot days like today, I feel like a convection oven!

I've reached the point where I'm definitely visibly pregnant (though apparently, I'm still small for how far along I am), and where I'm definitely uncomfortable. So, little Miss Sproglet, stay in there two more weeks and after that, any time. Please.

Had lunch with a friend yesterday who told me that her late mother (who I knew and liked very much) had a knack for predicting when people would deliver, and she belives she inherited a touch of it. She thinks I'll be early. I do too, actually-- the baby's already head down and very (verrrrry) low, and I myself was two weeks early.

I'm going to basically start treating every day at work as my possible last day, after this week. This week, I'm going to clean stuff up (more than I already have).

I had the friends-of-mom shower a couple of weekends ago. This coming weekend is the friends shower, then the weekend after that is the last friends shower that I have objected to strenuously but was overruled on.

(The shower this coming weekend had an invite list of about 15 people-- and if I had expanded it to the next level out of friends, it would have approached 40. And that's totally not fair to the two good friends hosting it. So the last friends shower is a casual potluck BBQ in a park, where people can bring kids and hang out, and my mother is not invited. I still object, because I don't like the fuss at all, but at least it's casual.)

Oh, and this week is also my church choir shower, which I also objected to, and was told in no uncertain terms that they would have it whether I was there or not.

Don't mess with Episcopalians and a party. That's all I'm saying.

Sunshiny

The last two posts were grumpy and/or sad and/or blue, and as I head out of town for a couple of days I hate to leave that at the top of the blog.

I'm sitting on the sofa net surfing while a guy resurfaces my upstairs bathtub, after which I'll throw my suitcase in the car and go back to visit my hometown for my first baby shower. (This is strategy at its finest-- get away from the fumes, and by the time I'm back on Sunday afternoon, no fumes! I'll still need to shower at the Y for a few days next week, but that's OK. A little yucky, but OK.)

So, on this sunshiny Friday morning, a few good things:

- I threw some box hair coloring on last night, and it looks good. Nice red highlights without the Bozo brassiness of the color I used last time (which they've discontinued, possibly because of the Bozo factor...). I did miss my temples, as I was wearing my glasses, but with my hair down you can't tell. And it's the temp kind, so I can fix shortly.

- It is a beautiful day. Absolutely beautiful. Perfect crisp blue sky, temps under 70... couldn't be nicer.

- I have wingmen for the shower in my hometown-- G is coming with, and my friend K is coming as well. K's husband is from the same area, so she's combining visiting her mother-in-law with the shower. It will be good to have them around as backup. They both know some of my recent struggles and, I think, will be a nice bumper.

As I said to another friend yesterday, though, I have to work to be the better person on this stuff: know my boundaries, set them with a smile, and let the other stuff roll off me. Easier said than done with family, I know. But that's what my goal needs to be. Making myself crazy over this does no one any good, and I cannot change how they act. I can only change how I react.

- The sproglet continues to be just fine: measuring absolutely normally, normal heartbeat, etc. She's also already head-down and has been for a couple of weeks. I'm hoping she stays that way-- she's an active but not overly-active fetus, so hopefully there's no flipping around at the last minute.

Also, my blood pressure, sugar, and weight continue to track right in the center of the "normal" range. Excellent. I'm always happy to be boringly normal on this kind of stuff.

I know that this couldn't possibly be a less exciting post, but at least it's not gloomy doomy. Have a great weekend, all.

Pillow Talk

In general, when you're pregnant, sleeping becomes more challenging.

(Many people say it's putting you in training for when there's an actual baby onsite, who may or may not have any idea what "middle of the night" means.)

You can't sleep on your stomach, because your stomach is sticking out in front of you-- ow. You generally can't sleep on your back (according to the American Pregnancy Association, which I've never heard of but found through the magic of Google, "This can cause problems with backaches, breathing, digestive system, hemorrhoids, low blood pressure and decrease in circulation to your heart and your baby. This is a result of your abdomen resting on your intestines and major blood vessels (the aorta and vena cava).")

Under normal circumstances, guess which positions I sleep in 90% of the time?

So I'm now an unwilling side-sleeper. And along with me for the ride on this is an elaborate pillow setup. Currently, there are three pillows involved in settling in for the night:

1. A nice pillow under my head.
2. A long pillow on my left side, which is the optimal side to sleep on. (Here's why.)
3. Another, shorter pillow on my right side.

(This is going to be interesting when it gets into the hot weather, when I don't like anything touching me...)

I try to fall asleep on my left side, with the pillow against me and the bottom part of the pillow between my knees. Over the course of the night, I'll wake up in a variety of positions, of course, and I'll try to reposition myself.

The pillows are key to this. They are partially designed to keep me from rollling on my back like a beached whale, and partially so I can fling one arm over a pillow on either side and feel more supported. It's all very complicated. When I get up to use the washroom and then come back to bed, I have to go through the whole pillow-positioning routine again. And then again.

Thank goodness I have extra pillows in the first case.

And, for the record? I know perfectly well I may have a baby that thinks the middle of the night is the perfect time to exercise her lungs for her future opera career. However, in the few moments she allows me to get some shuteye, at least I'll be able to get that sleep on my stomach or flat on my back.

That sounds pretty great to me.

**

I finally talked to a friend yesterday who didn't know about the baby-- we'd traded a bunch of phone calls earlier in the year, but between my work schedule and her extremely busy mom-of-three schedule (and her youngest is special needs), we didn't connect and it fell off both our radars. Now the news is getting out at work (seriously, it's about time), she heard something at a party last weekend, and shot me an e-mail that basically said "Call me, or I'll hunt you down like a rabid dog." (It didn't say that, of course, because she's a kind and lovely person. But it was Stern; had a definite mom-vibe to it. In a good way.)

I was a little worried about her reaction. She's an extremely conservative Christi.n. But I should have known better-- she's the only conservative Christi.n I've ever met who doesn't judge others on her standards. And, if she loves you, that trumps everything.

She was thrilled, and it was so good to talk to her. I'm not sharing details widely (except in my blog, which all the world can see, of course-- heh), but I trust her and it was just nice to chat.

She sent an e-mail later, after our call, and it teared me up. Her last line was "You were made for this."

I hope she's right. Whether or not she is, I'm incredibly lucky to have the support and love of so many amazing people in my life.

And now, before the hormones again turn me into Weepy McSobberson, I'm heading out to Tar.get. I'd make a joke about my boring weekend, but it's not going to be boring at all-- tonight is ROLLER DERBY.

Ha! I can't wait.

One boring life, in bullets

Blogging has been light around here-- even lighter than usual. Sorry about that. Until the childbirth class is over next week, I'm hardly home during the week, which means weekends are spent running around even more than usual. And blogging about the dullness of my life isn't exactly number one with a bullet when I'm either busy or exhausted, or busy and exhausted.

A few things in short format:

- Had a long lovely lunch with P last weekend. The chicken salad was good, but the company was much better. I love how you can not see a friend for a while, but you just pick right up where you left off. I feel very lucky.

- I do not have a dress for the shower(s) yet. Grr. I'm going shopping weekend after next with a friend who has excellent fashion karma, and I'm hoping it will rub off. I did order this dress, because it looks flattering and is a terrific color. (I'll need to shorten it, I'm guessing.) With a cardigan and cute shoes, it may end up being my shower dress. We'll see.

On a side note, maternity clothes, tops in particular, are ugly. Trying to find decent tops I can wear to work-- that aren't ridiculously priced-- is hard. I'll probably spend the last month in Target dresses.

- I also do not have a crib yet. It's a long story, and it's not pretty. I just want it ordered and on the way-- I don't need it here. I need to know it's coming.

(That, by the way, seems to be my particular pregnancy hormonal kink-- if I get something on my mental list of What Must Be Done, it becomes a pretty serious mental issue if it isn't getting done. As in, near-hysteria. Things like dishes or laundry aren't on the list-- which may be for the best-- but the bigger house stuff? That's all on the list, and I get very, very worked up if I'm not making progress on the list. I guess there are worse hormonal kinks I could be stuck with, but this one isn't exactly restful-- especially when I have to depend on others for much of what needs to be done. Argh.)

- I went to the theatre last weekend and saw an... interesting production of Cabaret. (Well-done, yes. But some disconcerting changes, including a subversive female MC.) I'm taking advantage of getting out when I can, pre-baby (seeing another show this weekend)-- but I have to say, the sproglet apparently enjoyed it. She was pretty feisty throughout, which cracked me up (she's not normally an evening fetus).

- People at work STILL have not figured out I'm pregnant. I'm 29 weeks, people, and have a visible belly! I've told people! It's just not getting around. Most people are probably going to realize it next week, when I am teaching a class. Heh.

I hope the people who know don't think I'm ashamed. Would I rather be married (or heck, even partnered) and expecting? Absolutely, for a thousand reasons. But I'm not. Congratulations welcomed regardless. :)

Oy. To sleep I go. Happy Wednesday.

Back to school

First birthing class last night. I'm doing one that incorporates self-hypnosis. And, as all these classes do, there's a lot of what my parents would call "hippy dippy" stuff-- which I don't mind at all.

I am very clear that I don't mind drugs during labor. But given how I overreact (physically) to drugs in general, I'm also fine looking for ways to avoid them. :)

I may write in more detail when I'm not completely exhausted (I even skipped yoga tonight, which I love love love, because I'm that tired), but one of the most entertaining things about the class was the couple who sat through the entire class looking absolutely, completely petrified. Sheer, unadulterated terror-- not just during the video of waterbirths, but the entire time.

Little too late to panic now, methinks...

Questions, answers and HOLY CRAP I have a lot to do

A couple of questions I've gotten lately:

What's her name going to be?

I'm pretty sure I know, but I'm not sharing yet. After all, until I actually meet her, I won't know. I had a friend who had a name all picked out, and the minute she held her daughter she looked up at her husband and said "That's not her name." Their daughter was named something else entirely, and it was the right thing to do.

So until I meet her, she's the sproglet. Or, often, Lucy. Which I really do like as a name (though it does not go with my last name at all), but am using here as a nickname. I like it better than having people ask about The Baby, which sounds oddly ponderous.

I have to admit that, while I was sure I was having a boy (and I still believe in the long run that might have been simpler, if not as much fun to shop for), I'm a little relieved as I've never really had a fave boy name, and have no idea what I would have named a him.

(My girl name for years, BTW, was Emma. Thanks, Fri.ends, for naming Rachel's baby that and meaning it's going to become another name like Madison where every class has at least three. Sigh. But I do love the name I've picked, and it's a family name which is even nicer.)

Where are the belly pictures?

I know! I've had about the same size belly for a while, though, so the drama of taking them weekly just wouldn't have been there. This week, however-- well, I do believe I've popped. I'm pretty sure it happened Thursday morning, in fact-- my pants fit one way when I went in to work, and another way before I had lunch. (It was the weirdest thing.) So I'll get my act together and try to start taking pictures now.

And I think this week at work will be the week where people finally figure it out. Given that next week I'll be 27 weeks along, I'm thinking it's about time.

How are you feeling?

I get this question constantly, and frankly, the only good answer is "Pregnant."

**

To address the second part of this post's subject line, HOLY CRAP I have a lot to do. A friend who's pregnant and due around my due date (the one I referenced in another post who's having a tough time of it) has pretty much her entire nursery ready, as does Lag Liv. I... don't. PEER PRESSURE ARGH. ;)

I am justifying this by the fact that I'm planning on getting most of my stuff from my showers, which are in May and the first weekend of June, respectively (with one more very casual one on the second weekend of June; more a picnic, really), and can't do much until then. But next weekend, I am ordering the crib and the glider, so getting those in and set up will hopefully calm me down.

Oh, crazy hormones. I do not love you at all.

Sproglet: please do not be too early. I'm going to need until about the second week of June, I think.

Worries

Someone asked me recently if I’m worried or anxious about my pregnancy. It was an interesting question, and I had to stop and think about it before I answered. And my answer was “no.”

In the first 12 weeks, I was pretty much waiting for something to go horribly wrong. At my age, the miscarr.iage rate is so much higher than it is for younger women (I am, after all, of “advanced maternal age”—hee! That’s like seeing “spinster” on your mortgage paperwork—it’s a real feel-good moment) that even after I saw a heartbeat I was cautious and not particularly optimistic.

Once I passed the 12 week mark, though... I don’t know. Believe me, I understand all that could still go wrong, but once I moved out of the first trimester it just became simpler. I’m not that worried. I’m sure a lot of it is that I continue to feel reasonably good (heartburn, busy bladder, and interrupted sleep aside). I haven’t gained a lot of weight, I’m still able to exercise, and while I’m going to be very happy to not be pregnant any more (and am even more happy that the odds are good I’ll never be pregnant again), it’s all pretty much sort of OK.

I have some worries about labor and delivery (who doesn’t?), and am starting to worry about the sheer overwhelming quantity of things I need to get done before the sproglet arrives, but I simply haven’t had a lot of concerns about the pregnancy itself. I’ve felt... well, not serene, but as if it’s all going to be OK, and that there’s nothing to really worry about pregnancy-wise. I feel, oddly, as if everything’s going to be fine.

It’s unusual for me NOT to fret, honestly. But... I’m not.

Saying this out loud probably means that Big Horrible Problems will immediately surface. :) But truly, that’s where I am right now.

I have a friend on another continent who’s due within a couple weeks of me, and she’s having a terrible pregnancy. She has far more preexisting medical issues than I do, and they’re all ganging up on her in full force; as each week goes by, she’s having a tougher and tougher time. She’s been told it’s only a matter of time before she’s totally disabled and on bedrest until she gives birth. I’ll tell you, I think of her when I want to bitch and moan about the heartburn or the poor sleep or about how I’m slower already.

Now, ask me about my post-pregnancy worries, and I can give you a list. A list that’s a mile and a half long, and getting longer every day.

I like to project months and years into the future. That is not a great idea right now-- I should probably make plans to survive infancy before I start worrying about her teenage years, hm?

Top of the page

I realized that last week's post (the one before this) was not necessarily the best thing to have at the top of the blog for weeks on end... so am making some time to bump it down a notch by posting this.

Last weekend was very blue, and filled with a lot of self-doubt and fear and loneliness (self-imposed, frankly). I get too far into my own head, sometimes, and last weekend was one of those times.

I've always said that February was the worst month of the (my) year. I had a pretty good February this year, though, so I think last weekend was February getting off one last good shot at me. And now it's March.

I wish I could say I feel 110% better. I don't. I do feel much, much less like I want to crawl into bed until sometime next year; that's something. But some of the blues still linger. That's natural, I think.

Because I project out into the future all the time (one of the reasons my romantic relationships have been doomed to fail!), I'm worried that the lonely part of me-- and it's there, and always will be-- is going to look at this baby as the savior, as the being that's going to save me from being lonely. Not only is that completely not fair to her, it's not the least bit realistic. You have a child to love them, rear them, and let them go-- not put inappropriate responsibilities on their small shoulders. I'm doing this because I want to be a mom, and because I believe I can be a good parent. I can't be doing this because, sometimes, I am lonely.

Children are not born to save us, or save our marriages, or to "fix" something we did wrong in our lives, or to do anything other than be themselves and grow up healthy and strong.

In 20 years, God willing, my daughter will be an independent young woman out on her own. She'll be healthy and smart and caring and self-sufficient, and she'll think I'm crazy but love me anyway, and I will have hopefully reared her so that she goes out and lives her life without worrying much about how her old mom is doing at home. I hope she'll always want to talk to me, and always want to come home and visit, but it will be because she wants to-- not because I've imposed things on her that I shouldn't.

Hopefully, just being aware of this will help make it so.

This is why I don't blog when I've been blue: no one needs to see the insides of my brain.

And now, off to the day. I have laundry, lunch with a friend, the gym, and then to another friend's house for the Osc*ars. I've seen almost nothing that's nominated (I keep watching documentaries and Bollywood with my Net*flix subscription), but there will be people there I don't see often, so that will be fun.

In conclusion, George Cloo*ney should always win everything he's nominated for. The end.

Permission to go to bed: granted

Note to self: it is all right to be tired when you've been traveling. It does not mean you're weak. It means you're tired, and heading upstairs to watch Burn Notice in bed is not a shameful thing. It's a luxury you should take advantage of while you can.

In other news, I don't know what the hell my neighbors are doing over there, but they're making a lot of noise doing it. ALL THE TIME.

20 weeks

Had my 20 week ultrasound today. It appears that sproglet has all the necessary organs and limbs in the right places, and in the right proportions.

Good to know.

** **

This week's food craving: bread. Oh, bread, how I love you. Tonight's whole wheat bagel was heaven.

** **

I guess I haven't talked much about religion on this blog, have I? Anyway, Lent started this week. Because getting up for sunrise Ash Wednesday services at my church was seriously not happening, I went to services near my office.

The only churches near my office are Catholic and Methodist. I'm not a Catholic any more, so that's out. I like the Methodists, so I headed over there, and it was an oasis in the middle of my day.

I'm giving up ice cream and candy for Lent this year. I need to cut down on sugar. I don't eat much candy, but it sits around the office in various places and it's easy-- too easy-- to pick up a piece here and there. It adds up.

Ice cream... let's just say last weekend involved waaaay too much ice cream, and Lent came around just in time to put a stop to that.

Oh, low-fat mint chip. I'll see you in 38 days.

Weekend

Last night I went to a birthday party where the birthday girl decided that, since her favorite meal is breakfast, she wanted breakfast for dinner. It was awesome-- pancakes and waffles and quiche and fruit and hash browns and mimosas (not for me, sadly) and bacon and all manner of breakfasty foods.

And then we lolled around in carb comas, watching the winter oly*mpics and making fun of Bob Cost*as's hair.

I don't live a fancy life, but I like it. A lot.

** **

Not much exciting to report. I'm trying to do something every day to get the house organized for the sproglet's arrival-- today was pulling stuff out of the guest room (which will be the baby's room), as well as organizing the basement storage and ordering a drawer unit for the closet. (Thanks, sale at the Cont*ainer Store. Excellent timing there!) I have to be strategic about what I can and can't keep, given my lack of space.

The list of things I have to do before July is... argh. It's really long. I'm just trying to knock things off, bit by bit. Speaking of which, calling the handyman this week is one way to potentially shorten the to-do list quite a bit.

** **

Sproglet, BTW, has made her presence known. I've had fluttering for about a week and a half or so, but one day this week she decided I was lazing about in bed too late and she thwapped me several times, but good.

As one of my friends said, this is why mothers often look skeptically at those "But I had no idea I was pregnant!" stories-- that particular sensation couldn't have possibly been anything but what it was.

She's settled into a combination of fluttering and thwapping; afternoons seem to be especially busy times for her. She has a lot to do in there, I guess.

It's a bit like the movie Ali*ens, frankly. Yes, I continue to be the least sentimental pregnant woman ever.

But I like that she also, apparently, responds to music. Good girl.

Coaching, shopping, and cheating

So much going on, as always!

This week I asked one of my two best friends, G, to be my birth coach. She enthusiastically accepted, which is a big load off my mind. Because of my due date, this means she can’t take one of her usual summer vacations, so it’s even nicer of her.

“There’s no one I’d rather have there,” I told her, and I meant it.

Additional bonus: my parents practically consider her their second daughter, and she’s really good with them. Given that they’re inevitably going to need to be “handled” during the whole L&D process, and I’m probably not going to have any ability to be subtle or polite, she’ll be invaluable.

(My other best friend lives an hour away, at least, and has two young kids. Just getting to the birthing classes would be a major chore for her.)

Placeholder for future post: “handling” my parents. And not during L&D: now.

We’ve got some issues. Or I do, anyway.

(Also, I have a lot of placeholders for future posts. Sorry ‘bout that.)

***

Updated note on shopping: THERE’S JUST SO MUCH TO BUY.

At lunch this week, when I brought up that I was just going to get a used bassinet from Cra*gslist if I couldn’t find a used one from among my friends, G sternly reminded me that I need to register, because people need stuff to buy.

“But I’m registering for everything!” I protested. And seriously, I am. There’s a crapload of gear, and even though I’m trying to be smart about things (hello, I don’t need two pa*ck and plays—my house is hardly big enough for one), there’s still a crapload of gear.

“People need stuff to buy for you,” she said again.

I get that, but part of me would rather register for what I really need. I mean, I’m going to get plenty of clothes regardless, and I’m going to make sure I register for stuff like onesies and sleeper gowns and receiving blankets and crib sheets and a baby monitor and all the basic essentials. But if there’s a piece of gear that seems superfluous—like a bassinet, which I can find used for $40 online (or hopefully can find for free)—wouldn’t it be better for people to put the money they might have spent on a bassinet on something else? I mean, the bassinet is used for a couple of months, tops. Why in the world do I need a new one?

Take that money and go in with someone (or several someones) and get me my overpriced but highly rated Brit*ax carseat for when the sproglet is over 25 pounds, thanks. That’ll be a bigger help.

Relative to Stuff, I’m having to resist crocheting baby gear, as I’ve been informed by numerous people that they’re covering those bases. Oh, well. Nothing wrong with crocheting for charity. (I cannot STAND to sit idle; if I’m watching a movie or TV, I have to do something else. Better crochet than munch.)

***

Prenatal yoga continues to be a fantastic oasis in my week. I am the laziest lazy person to ever exemplify lazy, and yet I can’t wait to get there.

Last week, the wife of someone I work with started class. She actually used to work with me as well. We were not close, for reasons I won’t go into here, and she has about four brain cells in her entire head. Sadly, I’m pretty sure that none of those brain cells are aware of the fact that her husband’s been messing around with someone else since well before she got pregnant. (Nice.)

Of course, I can’t bring myself to feel too sorry for her. She was messing around with her now-husband while he was still married to his first wife, and his first wife had a newborn at home.

I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a better poster child for “you reap what you sow.”

It’d all be hilarious if there weren’t children involved.

Point and shoot

So this weekend, I went to a large chain superstore that sells baby stuff. I won't name it here, but if I say that babies are totally and always us, you know where I went.

I had set up my registry online earlier, so I walked in with friends and they handed me the little registry scan gun. People, fear the scan gun. For it is mighty and awesome.

I spent much of the time there letting one or the other of my friends use the gun; they had so much fun doing so that it seemed mean to keep it all to myself.

The main reason I went there, really, was to look at cribs. They're just all so fancy, but I finally found one with clean lines that won't require me to sell one of my kidneys to purchase it. I'm going to look around a bit more, but I like it.

(Did you know that drop-rail cribs basically don't exist any more, for safety reasons? Who knew. I survived mine, but they're apparently a menace.)

Of course, I had to take a swing through the store and register for stuff while we were there. The biggest realization is how heavily gendered everything is. You can hardly buy a diaper pail without it being pink or blue, people-- it's ridiculous. I like pink. I'd venture to say I love pink. But the little sproglet doesn't need to have Every Single Thing In Her World be pink, or feature a girly pattern. What's wrong with brightly colored, gender neutral patterns? Nothing, except you can't find them.

(Crib bedding, especially, is sharply divided. There's very little that's not way on one end of the gender spectrum or the other.)

I didn't register for everything, as I'm also going to register at Tar*get and they have some things that I couldn't find at the superstore. I also need to hit up Cons*umer Reports and get ratings for car seats, strollers and high chairs, and I didn't see a baby bouncer I liked. So, not nearly done, and at least a few things I'm happy to get used.

There's something very mercenary about the whole "here's the list of stuff I want! Buy it for me!" concept. The only saving grace is that the registry is truly for stuff the sproglet is going to need; there's certainly some fluff on there, but it's largely necessities. So that's something.

Plus, the gun is fun.

***

We have an election here tomorrow. I am not voting until after work, because I need to go online at lunch and figure out who the heck I am voting for. Sigh.

Catching up

First of all, congratulations to the Spohr family on their beautiful new daughter Annabel. I know there must be bittersweet moments, but they deserve every moment of their joy.

***

I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do. I get home from work most evenings and it pretty much sounds like this in my brain:

“DINNER! Oh, look, bills. What’s for dinner? OMG I need to change into stretchy pants and fuzzy socks right now, and then COOK DINNER. Perhaps laundry? AFTER DINNER. Oh, I want to check e-mail and blogs but that is going to have to wait until AFTER I EAT DINNER. I want a glass of wine, dammit. WITH MY DINNER.”

So you can see that you’re not going to get much in the way of thoughtful journal entries between 6:30 p.m. and bedtime. This entry is actually being started on my lunch hour, and as I am currently well-fed (tossed salad, orange, and a hummus/cucumber/red pepper sandwich on whole wheat bread), you may get a few compound sentences out of me.

***

I got an effusive thank you e-mail for mentioning someone's book on this blog. Um, I never mentioned that particular book. Sorry. Thanks for the note.

***

I'm 17 weeks pregnant today. So, you ask, how goes it?

• I still want sushi. All the time. And veggie sushi just doesn’t cut it. I swear, I’m going to be two days postpartum and I’m going to call the local sushi place like a junkie calling her dealer: “SPICY TUNA ROLL! NOW! I DON’T CARE WHAT IT COSTS YOU TO DELIVER TO MY HOUSE, I’LL PAY CASH! GET IT HERE NOW! WITH EXTRA GINGER!”
• Still no nausea. Thank you, whatever deity is watching over me.
• I really would like a drink. But not nearly as much as I want sushi.
• The first-trimester exhaustion is still hanging around, though it’s certainly not as debilitating as many people I’ve known. I’m lucky to last past Jon Ste*wart’s opening monologue these days; my new strategy is to be in bed, 100% ready for sleep, when it starts. Then I’m generally OK because I knock off immediately when he gets to the first commercial. Yeah, I know there’s a rerun, and I know I could get a Ti*vo or something. Whatever. Priorities.
  
• I’m still in my regular pants/skirts, but that’s probably going to change this week. The belly is no longer easily explained away—it’s not big, but it’s no longer the kind of belly you get when you’ve gained a few pounds from all those holiday cookies.. It’s… a small preggo belly. I’ve only gained about four pounds total, but every one of them is in my middle.

The last point above pretty much means that my nearly-incognito-at-work status is about to end. People know now, but only those I’ve told. Yeah, that’s about to go away.

***

I continue to be amazed at the love and generosity and support I’m getting from all quarters. I had lunch with a friend on Saturday, who brought with her a bag of maternity clothes. These were not my friend’s, but belonged to a friend of hers-- who I’ve never even met. This coming Saturday I pick up more clothes and assorted other stuff (sadly, not a bassinet as originally hoped for—still am looking for a loaner for that, since I refuse to buy something that’s only used for a few weeks) from a friend of a friend. I’ve at least met this person, but only a few times, and only briefly—but she’s pretty much offering everything to me that I want to take, without me even asking.

For both these women, their only request is that I pay it forward, and pass them on. Absolutely. Again, it’s amazing.

(Maternity clothes: ridiculously expensive, and you wear them for ten minutes. I am AOK with the hand-me-downs, thanks. I’ve bought a few things like yoga pants and some dresses on sale, and I’m sure I’ll need to supplement donations, particularly with pants for work and solid color t-shirts which are my staple since I’m a scarf-wearing chick. But seriously—renew, reuse, recyle.)

***

Placeholders for future posts, since lunch is long over and I need to earn my keep:

- Genetic testing (long-promised)

- The weird feelings about starting to be visibly pregnant as a single mom—I hesitate to use the word shame, but…

- How much I love my midwife, plus bonus musings on whether to hire a doula despite the fact that it’s not covered by insurance (short answer: yes)

- Freaking out about day care (availability, not the concept) long before I can do a damn thing about it

***

Last but not least: it’s a girl. :)

I got the fever

I so look forward to weekends. This one was planned to the gills. Saturday: gym in the morning, Art Institute with friends in the afternoon, use evening to prep for dinner guests on Sunday, so I could spend time with dinner guests rather than cooking from scratch. Sunday: sing, gym, guests for dinner.

Revised plan: wake up at 3 a.m. Saturday morning with a brutal sore throat and a fever. Spend Saturday on the couch, alternately sleeping, messing around on the intarwebs, trying to drink lots of fluids, and reading. Cancel Sunday dinner guests.

Boo!

I'm currently unmedicated (and all I can take is acetaminophen anyway, darn it) and have only a minimal temp, so I'm hoping a good night's sleep tonight will knock the rest of the sick out. SO ANNOYING.

I also must admit I'm annoyed because I was really looking forward to having leftover chicken enchiladas and possibly leftover guacamole in the house. (Although the odds of guacamole being left over are never very good.) Company is such a good excuse to cook stuff I wouldn't normally make.

If I feel OK tomorrow, though, I'll probably modify the side dish recipe I was going to use (a black bean dish) into a rice and beans dish that I can use for various meals throughout the week.

But that's not as good as guacamole. Grr.

***

I've been telling more people about the pregnancy, now that I'm nearly 15 weeks and have cleared the genetic testing hurdle. (More on that in another post.) I told one of my two bosses on Friday, and he was just as great about it as I expected. Shocked as hell (and remember, I don't give a bunch of context; how this came about isn't something I offer up), but very positive and supportive. He gave me a big hug and he's about the least huggy person I know, so I was really touched.

I tell my other boss this week. I'm more worried about her. I don't know her; she came about through our recent acquisition. I don't trust her one bit, though she seems to like me and has said very positive things about me. She also fought to keep me, and keep me at a decent (albeit reduced) salary.

But I still don't trust her. I question myself on many things, but I do know when to listen to my gut. And my gut says she'd sell me out in a heartbeat.

One of my goals post-baby is to find another job, but I obviously need to take good care of this one for right now. I'll need to be careful, and I will. I've already started thinking about plans for covering my leave, and I have also been thinking about plans for managing my workload once I'm back from leave. A ways to go, yes, but it doesn't hurt to start planning now.

Yoga

I know, I have a serious post or three promised. And in the works. But I just had a whole bunch of excellent Chinese food and I'm sitting here feeling fat and not very serious, so I figured I'd write about my latest venture into exercise.

I started prenatal yoga classes last night. I'm almost a complete newbie to yoga; I took one class at the Y a couple of years ago, and between sessions being cancelled and me not going, I probably only attended a handful of sessions. I also have a yoga DVD that I like, but let's face it-- with a DVD, you could look like a curly fry and there's no one to correct your alignment. So I consider myself a newbie who at least knows what a downward dog is.

I've heard that yoga is a good exercise for preggo chicks, and it can eventually help with labor and delivery, so I signed up. I also want to stay as active as I can for as long as I can-- I am short and not exactly slender, so I have to be as careful as I can. (Yeah, look back at the first paragraph and note the "whole bunch of excellent Chinese food" comment. Whatever.)

Talking to a friend before I went to the class, she cautioned me to take it easy. "It's prenatal yoga," I scoffed. "It'll be a bunch of fat women sitting around breathing."

HA. I was wrong, like a wrong thing that is totally wrong. It was hard. Hard in a really good way, yes, but hard. The only thing she doesn't really do are poses that are inversions, which makes sense. Otherwise, it was a typical yoga class. I liked that she provided more than one way to do some of the poses, based on where you were in your pregnancy. As the class wore on, I tried to do some of the tougher poses. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. :)

I have never had particularly good balance, nor am I a strong woman who can stay in frozen poses for long periods of time. But I (mostly) didn't embarrass myself, it felt absolutely wonderful to stretch and to push myself, and it was definitely mind-clearing.

Two very big thumbs up. I'm going to make attendance at this class (it's weekly) a priority.

Acupuncture, yoga... If I start buying crystals and chanting, someone needs to smack me.

It's still the holidays, darn it

Hey! How were your holidays! Here at chez Plus One they were nice; as usual, Santa was ridiculously good to me. Also, there were no blowouts with visiting family, which is nice. There was stomach flu, but (knock wood) not from me.

It is snowing. It has been snowing. It feels as if it will always be snowing. I know this is not rational, but there it is.

I promise a longer, more thoughtful, and more interesting update later this week. I have genetic testing on Tuesday, for instance, and want to talk about the process as well as my thoughts on the whys and wherefores. But today, I'm just enjoying having the house back to myself, and I need to get to the gym. So far, weight gain has just been in the belly area, and I'd like to keep it that way.

So off I go. See you soon, when I have something more to offer. :)