Hysterical laughter of the insane

The OB, Steve and I had a good laugh today and I can't even remember why it was so funny.

Oh! I know what it was!

Dr. A decided to give me my steroid shots this week (lung development, early delivery, blah, blah, blah). But that meant one today and one roughly 24 hours later. Well...tomorrow is Saturday and the shot is intramuscular (arm or ass...I opted for ass since it can tend to make the arm sore). So who does that leave to administer said injection? LOL!

Notable quotes that made me laugh even harder...

~Me to Steve: Intramuscular means in my rear, honey...and I don't bend that way...which means someone else needs to do it for me. That someone would be you.

~Dr. A to Steve: Do you hunt or shoot?

~Dr. A to both of us: It's ok if you can't, I don't want to cause marital strife.

~Steve to Dr. A: Is there some sort of tranquilizer gun I can use to just shoot her (in the ass) from across the room?

~Dr. A: You really can't miss.
Me: My ass is a big enough target.

~Me to Steve: You're only going to get an opportunity like this ONCE in this lifetime.

~Me to Steve: I knew I should have had you practice giving injections to the horses.
Steve to me: Yeah...they wouldn't hurt as much when they kick me, I bet.

~Dr. A to Steve: The plan is to find the moment when the baby is doing good and the lungs are mature and...bail.
Steve to Dr. A: So induction really isn't an option?
Dr. A to Steve: Well, we could try, but it's a process and there are a lot of uncontrollable variables that come with each process.
Me to Steve: In other words, my freaky uterus is unpredictable and we don't want to chance it.
Dr. A to Steve: Right.

Seriously...all three of us were LAUGHING so hard that Baby Myles was kicking around like, "What the...???"

So yeah, that scream you hear tomorrow around 5pm...that's me being stabbed in the ass with a needle...by Steve, who neither hunts nor shoots. Or maybe it's Steve suffering my wrath after being stabbed in the ass with a needle. Either way, one of us is going to be screaming, I'm sure.

It is going to be a great day

It's 9:30am (work starts at 8) and I am just now logged into my computer due to "server issues."

The air conditioning, that was reportedly "repaired" this morning, is blowing out hot air into this building that was built in 1810 and has absolutely no air circulation otherwise.

I got up no less than eight times last night and am tired and cranky (and now incredibly hot).

Maybe I'll just leave blogging for another day.

***update:

One client is charged with contempt based on an affidavit that is filled with untruth (I don't want to call someone a LIAR...but you get the idea...and I have the documentation to PROVE it...sucker!).

I had to speak very slowly to a clerk at the Secretary of State's office. Heaven help us when he gets his bar results and actually becomes an attorney.

I smell from sitting in this heat.

I have to work late to make up some time.

I just discovered I will be 1.5 credits shy of my continuing legal education requirement unless I take a useless class that I won't need in my job.

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But I received a gift from my American Business Women's Association secret pal today (delivered to work)...so that made me smile.

My son has soccer practice again tonight...so that made me smile.

And my husband got himself a NEW JOB and was able to turn in his resignation today at the place that remains nameless (there may be more about this in subsequent posts...AFTER he is safely out of the hot zone)!!! In the meantime, please join me in offering CONGRATULATIONS!!! to my dear husband. I am so so so proud of him and I hope this new job provides him the professional happiness I know he has so desperately been looking for. I love you honey.

Mommy will not cry

(photo removed)

**Just a note: This was at meet-the-teacher. Sam hasn't had his first day yet.**

Lunch at 1300 hours

I'm not the mom that worries about her kid adjusting to new things. Heaven knows, Sam's done beautifully adjusting to so many changes in his short life that I marvel at how he could possibly be MY child (I don't do change well). I'm also not the mom to get all emotional about "my baby" growing up. In fact, I tend to inwardly cringe when I hear other mothers refer to their child in such a fashion. I mean, really...cut the cord already.

So you can imagine my surprise at finding myself ranting and raving to my husband yesterday upon his return from Kindergarten orientation. Now first, I was a bit miffed because I did not get to attend said orientation because it was scheduled at 2pm and someone had to stay home with Sam because it was "for parents only," and we do not have a local babysitter. And yes...I am also irritated that I am taking tomorrow off of work to accommodate their scheduling his meet the teacher time at 10am on a Wednesday...as if parents just don't have work schedules. But I digress.

Steve came home from orientation and gave me his impressions of the kindergarten teacher. His description? "Not exactly warm and fuzzy." In fact, "She seems to have a lot of rules." In kindergarten? OK...I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, I'm not a kindergarten teacher. She SOUNDED really nice in the little letter she sent home, specifically addressed to Sam. How bad could it really be?

But then Steve said, "And do you want to hear something truly absurd?" And that is when all bets were off. Let me try to calmly tell you about the absurdity...

Recess is fifteen minutes before lunch. If the class goes outside, everyone goes outside...no exceptions. Upon returning from recess, the class will go directly to the cafeteria where they will eat their lunch...there is no returning to the classroom between recess and lunch. Now, this poses two problems for me and my son. First, what if he brings his lunch? How exactly does it get from the classroom to the cafeteria? Teleportation? And second...and this is the one that sent me on a rant of epic proportions...

We live in an area called THE SNOW BELT. All children are to wear appropriate snow gear...coats, hats, mittens, snowpants, boots. They are going to spend fifteen minutes out in the snow...and then head directly to the cafeteria where they are expected to eat their lunches IN THEIR SNOW CLOTHES. Forget the discomfort of overheating while you eat. Forget the fact that I'm sure more than one kindergarten student will promptly throw up their lunch when they finally do return to the classroom and remove their layers. Let's focus on my child for a second. My child who suffers from Reactive Airway Disorder. My child who suffers asthma-like symptoms when faced with extreme temperature changes. My child, who is not allowed to dispense his own inhaler/medication, but must ask the teacher to send him to the nurse (provided it's not on Friday because the nurse doesn't work on Friday).

Am I the only one who sees a problem with this plan? Really, what would it take to allow the kids to return to the classroom to remove their snow clothes before heading to the cafeteria to eat? Would it take up too much precious finger-painting time? I mean, it's just KINDERGARTEN!

So now I have gone from laid-back-mom-who-doesn't-worry, to a complete and total freak. I know other moms who already have their first day of kindergarten stories to tell. For the most part, they seem to be relatively pleasant. There is one mom whose son was allowed to take his stuffed animal to the first day (Sam is allowed NO TOYS at kindergarten) and it really got me to thinking my baby is not going to do well if this kindergarten teacher is more like a drill sergeant than a kindergarten teacher. He IS a sensitive kid, despite what he may have been through during the past three years. He DOES need love and attention more than cold rules and strict routine. How do I send him off to the care of a stranger and just hope that she understands him? How do I send him off to the care of a stranger who seems less than interested in trying to understand him?

I know these questions and worries are not unique. I know mothers have faced them since the beginning of the public school system. I know that my child will be ok, one way or another. If I have to step in and talk to the teacher, I will certainly do that. If she won't listen, I will not hesitate to go over her head. I don't want an adversarial relationship and I hope it won't be necessary.

I guess I'm just sad that it is starting this way. "Be all you can be" is a nice slogan for the military...I'm just not sure it has a place in kindergarten. I'm sad that we don't seem to have anyone on "our side," who is as interested in guiding our boy as we are...with love. I want Sam to love school and I'm terribly afraid this is going to produce just the opposite reaction in him.

A kindergarten riddle

What do you get when you have a Bachelor's in Nutrition and a Master's in Business Administration?

School lunch options that include Tony's Pizza every.single.day (except for the one day of the month when the options include Domino's Pizza).

No, I'm not kidding.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

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I neglected to share...My son and my husband brought me flowers and a funny card on our wedding anniversary...then they took me out to dinner. I did nothing for them. I suck.

While at dinner, Steve and I were both a bit disconcerted that our waiter (who was also the bartender at the bar) looked A LOT like our son's pediatrician. I felt like I should order something healthy...which is so NOT the point of eating out.
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I got a new cell phone. An LG enV Orange. If you click the link you will see why I'm a little afraid of it.
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A good night's sleep does not come without a price in my whackadoo brain. See, the last two times I got a good night's sleep while pregnant resulted in dead babies. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why my mind freaked itself out on Tuesday morning when I woke up from a surprisingly nice sleep (I only had to visit the bathroom twice during the night). I am eternally grateful to whatever power allowed me that sleep without waking to a dead baby. I am, however, a bit perturbed that I had to break out the doppler first thing in the morning "just to check." The emotional toll of the morning almost completely negates the restful sleep of the night before.

And as an added bonus, I couldn't find a heartbeat at first because Baby Myles had scrunched himself up in a tight little ball in my upper right abdomen...above my belly button. My boy and I are apparently going to have to talk about the exit being to the south and not up and out my throat.
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All H@me Dep@t's are not created equal. And L@we's may be more expensive, but the extra $ is worth it for the better customer service. I'm just saying.
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At the end of the work day, I hide in my office instead of going home. I don't want to go home to be all by myself with the dogs. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to clean up any messes they may have left me. Now I realize it's because I don't want to be alone with all the bad thoughts. I'm disappointed in myself. I thought I was doing better.
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Thursday, 5:59pm, I saw my belly move for the first time this pregnancy from a distinct baby kick.
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An interesting article about Mother Teresa's Crisis of Faith.

There are two responses to trauma: to hold onto it in all its vividness and remain its captive, or without necessarily "conquering" it, to gradually integrate it into the day-by-day.
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I feel so grown up. I got "the look" today from my boss when I handed him my son's kindergarten schedule and informed him I would be arriving late and leaving early on those days I have to provide transportation to my munchkin. It's only two hours a day on those days and I can really do the work at home, but I agreed to work in the office an extra two hours on the other days of the week because he "needs the hours from me." Whatever. My office neighbor is leaving to work in private practice in a couple of weeks and has promised he will keep his eyes and ears open for any opportunities for me. There is hope.
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Much appreciated

Thank you all for indulging me in my episode of self-pity yesterday. I'm feeling much better today thanks to a bowl of ice cream last night. One high glucose reading was well worth the satisfaction found in those Moose Tracks. In fact, my numbers are very well controlled by diet and I can reduce the number of finger sticks to a couple times a week as long as I promise to follow the diet. I promised...and I will.

It's not that it's hard to do...it's that it FEELS hard to do. It's like I'm juggling all these crazy emotions over this pregnancy, Sam starting kindergarten, Steve finding a new job (hopefully a post is coming soon about that), and me just feeling all this pressure to make everything work. It all falls down on me at unexpected times and I write it out here so my poor husband doesn't have to listen to me whine about it (I swear, that man is a saint).

Anyway...Baby Myles is doing well. He did a little jig for us during our spot ultrasound today. He is, if I'm allowed to say, absolutely ADORABLE...even in his transparent and slightly scary way. Everything looks good and we're up for steroid shots in two weeks as a precaution in case there is a need to deliver early due to any weird uterine infections cropping up. I am slightly very anxious about the fact that we talked about early amnio and delivery by c-section. It's not ideal for me and I really wonder if there is any wiggle room with that option. I mean, I struggled to VBAC two dead babies so I could avoid surgery (70+ hours with Alex)...I would hate to think I could have just opted for a section since it makes no difference now. Maybe I'll email Dr. A. and see what he thinks.

Now I must ask you something...did you know that in the ice cream brands I compared, the no sugar added version only had ONE less gram of carbohydrate per half cup than the regular old sugar filled ice cream? What's the point? And how about this...ONE slice of stone ground wheat bread has almost as many carbs as TWO slices of Light Wheat bread (and light wheat tastes better)? I used to think those truth in food labeling advocates were a little off their rockers, but now I remember what all the fuss is about. There are some people for whom label reading is very important. Can you imagine believing you've bought the better bread only to find out (at home) you can only have HALF a sandwich? That would really tick me off.

Thank you all for your suggestions for yummy food ideas. I'm really doing ok. I've not gained any weight for three weeks now and Myles is growing and grooving. And there really isn't too much deprivation...it's just a matter of having to THINK about it now instead of mindlessly eating...instead of mindlessly doing anything. I miss the old days where I could be pregnant without having to think about it. But this is my life now. And I'll do it because I want this baby boy here and alive more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. Guess I'm not really as selfish as I sound.

**Warning: regular/normal/ungrateful pregnancy whine

I would do ANYTHING to get Baby Myles here alive and healthy.

But I just have to get this out because it is making me crazy...

I want to EAT! I'm HUNGRY! Nothing I want to eat is good for my or my blood sugar levels. I'm TIRED of green leafy vegetables and meat. I want to eat a bowl of pasta and follow it up with an ice cream sundae! I want to EAT CARBS! AND SUGAR! And I want to NOT think about whether it is poisoning my baby.

I normally LOVE to cook. I can't even stand to walk into the grocery store anymore because I'm bombarded with all the lovely summer fruits I can't eat...the snack chips I can't eat...the CAKES and the COOKIES I can't eat! It's torture! It makes me want to cry with frustration. I've put off buying a loaf of bread for fear I will sit down in front of the tv, slather the bread with peanut butter, and just eat until I explode. Seriously...this is the stuff I fantasize about (besides bringing home a living baby boy).

Add in that I'm so tired of feeling like a freaking pincushion...One belly injection in the morning, four finger pricks throughout the day, the looming promise of steroid shots, and the prospect of insulin shots sometime in the future...Good grief! I'm bruised and pinched and hurty in places that drive me crazy. Have you ever tried typing with fingers you've stuck multiple times a day? It sucks! My pants are too damn small again and the belly bruises from the injections are PAINFUL! I'm thinking of just buying all dresses (without waistlines) so I don't have to deal with it anymore!

I just want to curl up in a ball until this is all over. Hand me a healthy and happy baby and I'm sure I will think all this has been worth it. But right now, hormonal me just wants to have a good cry and not be told to look at the bigger picture.

One of a kind

The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him. (-Pablo Casals)

His name is Myles Fisher C-----.

We want everyone to know him...now and forever.

There is no special significance to his name...no family names included...no stories to be told. It is his name and his name alone...only because we like it. We hope he likes it too.

And we hope he gets to use it for a very long time in this life.

Welcome to the world Baby W!!!

In the category of better late than never...

Congratulations to Clare on the arrival of little Miss W!

4am freakout

It's 4am and I can't sleep. GB's heart is still beating...I checked because I figured the reason I couldn't sleep was because something was wrong (naturally).

So now I've been sitting here for a half hour, surfing the net, telling myself, "HE'S JUST SLEEPING! STOP FREAKING OUT!" It's not working.

So what's a girl to do? Why, blog, of course.

This is a switch. My pre-appointment freakout was relatively mild last night...I've apparently shifted to post-appointment freakouts now. How perfectly poetic. (Do you sense the sarcasm there?)

And I'm hungry.

Great. Just great. So I can freak out...screw with my gestational diabetes...and get fat...all at the same time.

This is the stuff that reality shows are made of....thrilling human drama (and too many ellipses...and yes, I had to look up ellipses to make sure it was the right word. What do you want? It's 4:30am, for God's sake!)

GB just gave me a big ole kick as if to say, "Hey nutcase...get your fat ass back in bed and let me sleep." Already this kid has opinions...

I'm tired.

I don't want to share!

No, this isn't a childhood temper tantrum we're dealing with...It's a full-blown adult sized mommy temper tantrum. I shamefully admit that this 35-year-old woman is capable of having such breaks in my otherwise refined veneer as to have childlike temper tantrums. In other words, it ain't pretty. So I come to the fine internet folks to tell my sad tale of woe...after warning my husband it was coming and assuring him it isn't ABOUT HIM (a point I think I kind of lied about...cause yeah...it is about him a little bit).

We're going through some changes in our house. Some of them come as a result of Sam's being five years old...some as a result of "the new baby" (a reference I am REALLY growing to hate so much that it may just prompt an early reveal of Gummy Bear's real name...SOON)...and some of it is surely a combination of the two. Intellectually I understand that my baby is growing up right before my eyes. And I'm ok with that. Really. I am...OK.with.that. Oh...shut-up...I can hear you laughing from here and I think that's just plain rude.

Anyway...

Bedtime has always been our "snuggle time." Me and Sam. When all other attempts to soothe the savage in him had failed, I could lie next to him in a darkened room and melt his willpower with the sound of my breathing. Snuggle power.

It only worked if Steve was thrown out of the room. Daddies only stir up trouble, don't ya know? Distraction had to be eliminated and that meant daddy had to leave us alone. At first, when Sam was an infant, I think Steve took a bit of offense to his lack of snuggle power. But after a couple of weeks with little to no sleep he realized the magic...and he too melted to the awesome power of the mommy snuggle.

As Sam gained years, we developed our own little nightly ritual. I would look up from whatever I was doing at the appropriate time (or when Sam was exhibiting unusual fussiness/crankiness) and announce, "Snuggle time!" It was the rare night when my little munchkin didn't smile as he bounded into the bedroom and hopped right under the covers...ready to meet sleep with his mommy snuggled up by his side.

I remember so many nights, smelling his hair, listening to him breathe, checking to see if his eyes were closed (laughing when he would surprise me by popping them open and giving me a grin). I wished there was a way to bottle it up and keep it forever...those moments that made me feel so much like we are mother and son...those moments that, quite honestly, made me feel the POWER of that bond we share.

I tell you all of this, not as a means to elicit "awww, how sweet" from you...but so that you will understand exactly how this latest phase of growing up has bruised my heart. As with all things related to raising children, those moments couldn't be bottled up to be kept forever. Time couldn't be stopped. Things change.

Sam wants his Daddy at bedtime.

He asks him to stay and snuggle instead of going out to the barn to do his nightly chores. Mommy snuggle power just isn't enough.

I knew this day would come. And I tried my hardest to steel my heart against the disappointment that our magical time was over. But guess what? It didn't work. I'm sad and I don't wanna share!

But I will.

Because I love him with every fiber of my being and I want him to be happy.

Here I am!

Genius or madness?

This arrived in the mail today from my crazy dear friend, Cynthia. Yes, it's Spam. Baby's First Spam, to be exact. Complete with a Spammer's message from Iwan Yomunny...soliciting Gummy Bear's participation in "an investment opportunity in Nigeria."




Thank you for the laugh, Cynthia. Steve is now convinced we should meet in person. He says, "She's our kind of people." I'm not sure if that's good or bad. LOL!

Save the planet...save yourself

I normally don't blog about things like this, but the Skin Deep:Cosmetic Safety Database has been a real eye opener for me. Check out the beauty products you use every day. You may even want to rethink using some of them. I have.

Lucky 13

I will love you forever as I love you now...

...with all that I am and all that I have.

~Happy Anniversary~

Secret Pal 11

There has been a serious lack of craft posts on this blog for a while now...a fact I hope to change in the very near future (like this week). But for now, I'm posting this questionnaire (so I won't forget).

1. What is/are your favorite yarn/s to knit with? What fibers do you absolutely *not* like?

I'm allergic to wool...so no wool. Anything else goes. I LOVE alpaca and silk (or a combo of the two).

2. What do you use to store your needles/hooks in?

My crochet hooks are stored in a hook roll in my bag. My knitting needles are thrown into a laundry hamper/wicker basket I use to stash stuff in my living room or a plastic tub I use to stash stuff in my craft closet.

3. How long have you been knitting & how did you learn? Would you consider your skill level to be beginner, intermediate or advanced?

I would consider myself an advanced crocheter and a beginner knitter.

4. Do you have an Amazon or other online wish list?

Yes, but it doesn't have much crafty on it at the moment. I will see what else I can add.

5. What's your favorite scent?

Sweet scents...vanilla, cookie, etc.

6. Do you have a sweet tooth? Favorite candy?

Of course! Anything chocolate!

7. What other crafts or Do-It-Yourself things do you like to do? Do you spin?

I do not spin. I love to sew clothing. I love to scrapbook but hardly do it anymore. I am trying quilting, but it is a slow going process. I love to cook and bake, but time and my husband's picky eating limit what I can really do in the kitchen.

8. What kind of music do you like? Can your computer/stereo play MP3s? (if your buddy wants to make you a CD)

I am a country music gal. My computer and my cell phone can play MP3s...and my husband has an iPod that I steal from time to time.

9. What's your favorite color(s)? Any colors you just can't stand?

Love purple. But I like just about any color (depending on the project).

10. What is your family situation? Do you have any pets?

Married with one five-year-old son and one son due December 22 (will probably deliver in November if all goes according to plan).

11. Do you wear scarves, hats, mittens or ponchos?

Scarves, hats, and mittens...yes. No ponchos.

12. What is/are your favorite item/s to knit?

I like to knit scarves...but that's just because I'm a beginner and it's the easiest thing I can find. I crochet just about anything...and love to do little baby items.

13. What are you knitting right now?

I'm crocheting an old-fashioned granny square afghan for my friend, a baby sweater for a friend's baby, and I'm about to start a baby blanket for our new baby (can't decide whether to knit or crochet...still percolating that in my brain).

14. Do you like to receive handmade gifts?

Of course!

15. Do you prefer straight or circular needles? Bamboo, aluminum, plastic?

My favorite so far are bamboo straight. I've tried straight aluminum and they are ok. My least favorite were the plastic circulars.

16. Do you own a yarn winder and/or swift?

Neither...and don't really want either.

17. How old is your oldest UFO?

The granny-square afghan for my friend is almost a year old. I get bored easily...and granny squares are quite boring in such a large quantity.

18. What is your favorite holiday?

It's not really a holiday...but my birthday is my favorite...followed closely by my son's birthday and my husband's birthday.

19. Is there anything that you collect?

Nope.

20. Any books, yarns, needles or patterns out there you are dying to get your hands on? What knitting magazine subscriptions do you have?

Nothing I really HAVE TO have at the moment. And I don't have any subscriptions...at all...to anything.

21. Are there any new techniques you'd like to learn?

I'd like to ramp up my knitting education. I've got the basics figured out...now I think I'd like to try a real knit pattern of some sort.

22. Are you a sock knitter? What are your foot measurements?

No, I'm not a sock knitter. I wear a size 9.5.

23. When is your birthday?

February 8.

24. Are you on Ravelry? If so, what's your ID?

No...don't even know what that is (I'm lame, I'm sure).

Miscellaneous Thoughts

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Sam announced last week that he is now ready to pee standing up. Oh joy! Let the cleaning begin!
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I'm afraid to go to the post office. I have forty-six MOM bracelets and a baby gift to mail out...all of which will require metering. The man that runs the post office counter hates it when I come in and is rather surly.
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Speaking of mail...I still haven't mailed my brother-in-law's birthday card/gift. His birthday was July 11th. And grandma lives on...
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Sam got mad at me two Sundays ago...because I like Tony Stewart and he was racing ahead of Kasey Kahne, the driver Sam likes. When Steve tried to tell him that that wasn't very good sportsmanship, Sam replied, "Sportsmanship is just for soccer." I think we need a little work on the concept.
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Speaking of which...we signed Sam up for soccer. We'll see how this works. He's an only child with only child syndrome. Not sure if team sports are such a good idea.
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I told Steve...the diagnosis of gestational diabetes felt like a huge crushing failure on my part during my first pregnancy. But now it just feels like a tiny drop in a giant bucket of huge crushing failure. Perspective is funny that way, I guess.
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Please don't forget my online Tupperware party (if you are so inclined).
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I am really tired of women, particularly mothers, being stereotyped as stupid or lazy. Surely we're bright enough, even in the face of a free can of formula, to maintain our competence as parents.
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Congratulations to Claire's Friends on receiving a rather sizeable donation. I know that your kindness was one that stands out in my mind when I think of that awful time after we lost Alex and Travis. And your friendship continues to inspire me...to do more...to be more...to find my own answers. I love you.
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I seriously need one of these.
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Yeah, nothing insightful this week at all. At least not yet. I do my best philosophizing on Fridays.
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So let's add sick to the mix

The humidity is apparently too much for my sinuses. Now I've got the makings of a lovely summer cold...stuffy sinuses, scratchy throat, tiredness...blah! I'm going to curl up in my bed early tonight and watch tv.

I've got to feel better by Saturday since I promised Sam we'd go to the fair. And a five-year-old at the fair doesn't take kindly to being held back by a tired pregnant cranky sick old mommy. It takes stamina to keep up with him.

I want to post but...

...it's so dang hot my brains have melted and I am not capable of putting words together to form sentences.

It's not the heat...it's the humidity. Oh, who am I kidding? It's both. 88 degrees with 74% humidity. Blech.

awwwww...

Ha! Take that nurse Marilyn!

Never one to take no for an answer...

Dr A:

Marilyn called me Friday to tell me that my glucose test results were slightly high and I needed to do the three hour screen. Since I have the meter, etc., and already know the drill, can I skip the screen and just start testing my blood sugars at home? If so, what testing schedule should I use?

Thanks,
Catherine

Hi, Cathy,
That'll be fine---yes, please check your levels fasting in the morning; 2 hrs after breakfast/lunch/dinner; and at bedtime---we'll see how the numbers behave on your diet...
Hang in there,
Dr. A

So I win and nurse Marilyn loses! neener neener neener!

And here I was all worried

There are so many times I worry about what the last two years has done to Sam. Have we scarred him emotionally for life? Will he need counseling? Will he become a hermit in the woods of Montana writing his manifesto?

And then we have these moments that I begin to think all my worrying is for nothing.

He doesn't remember Rolie Polie Olie. For almost an entire year, that is the only show he would watch on Playhouse Disney. I bought him a stuffed Olie...and bowed to DEMANDS to replace him after one of the dogs chewed his antenna off.

Yesterday we were going through the trash bags of stuffed animals and happened upon Rolie Polie Olie and sister Zoey. Sam looked at them...then at me...then at them...then at me...totally blank. He had ZERO recognition of these characters who were so dear to him just a few short years ago. He didn't even know their names.

So now I'm left to wonder...would it be better if we let Alex and Travis fade away into the fog of childhood memories? Should we make less of an effort to keep their memories alive in our home? Maybe I am creating the very issues I was seeking to avoid?

I have, as of late, had my own feeling of needing to replace the photos and momentos of Alex and Travis...to put the memories away for safekeeping. Not all of them...but some of them. I know part of this is wanting so badly for GB to fill up some of those dark places with the light of hope and happiness. I know I would much rather see smiling photos of happy living children on my walls. I know that no amount of looking at the past will make things 'right.' Maybe by looking so much at the past I am missing out on the joy and anticipation of what lies ahead. Maybe I need to find a more balanced place for all of us. And maybe I worry too much about the wrong things...

Tonight I will pack up Rolie Polie Olie and sister Zoey in the cedar chest of memories. And maybe I will put a couple other things in there too.

Strange things you see at Wendy's

Yes...that is the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine.

Some day I hope to catch Herbie the Love Bug on camera too (he apparently lives around here somewhere).

If wishes were babies...

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My planned (large) diaper bag came in the mail today (my friend made it).
We went shopping and I bought baby clothes and a baby blanket and a (little) diaper bag.
We talked about the baby's name.
We talked about the future...we joked whether Sam would teach the baby to be cranky...especially when hungry.
We debated car seats and strollers and swings and bassinets...we planned which baby gear we will buy (most likely on the way home from the hospital).
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We've buried two babies we wanted very much.

Today at the mall we witnessed a woman say to her not-more-than-three-year-old son, "B!tch, if you don't hurry the f*ck up and get up here I'm going to beat your f*cking @ss."

Noticing that people were looking at her in horror, she followed up her loving proclamation with, "And other people should mind their own d@amn business if they don't f*cking like what I have to say."

Normally I would cry about the unfairness of my life.

Tonight, I cry for the unfairness of that little boy's life.
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If wishes were babies, our little GB will arrive healthy and perfect...without question.

And that little boy in the mall will grow up to be an amazing and wonderful man...DESPITE the woman who has so clearly not earned the right to be his mother.
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I forgot the best part!

I can't believe that in my retelling of my annoyances yesterday, I forgot the best part! I was talking to Marilyn the nurse on the telephone and told her I was concerned about waiting to do the 3 hour glucose tolerance test for a week, when I could be testing my blood sugars now. Do you know what she told me?

It is not urgent and I should try not to stress...think good thoughts...because stress isn't good for me or the baby!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the medical professional told me to think good thoughts.

And do you know what I did? (This certainly tells me how far I've come in the past two years as a person.)

I told her that stress wasn't the issue. I told her that I lost my previous two babies due to "freak things that shouldn't happen." I told her that Alex died from a bacterial infection and Travis died from a viral infection. I told her that stress is the least of my worries and I didn't appreciate the advice to just think good thoughts because good thoughts weren't going to cut it because, at this point, I figure if the plague is out there, I will contract it. I told her that, for that matter, the implication that bad thoughts hurt my past pregnancies is cruel and I didn't appreciate it. I was completely honest...without being rude. I hope she really heard me and never offers such a cliche to any other patient.

normal = 130 and 12

So I had an appointment yesterday. Nothing too exciting. Just little annoying things.

The nurse who is concerned that I haven't had a pap or chlamydia screen in more than a year. She wants to do this now? Uh...no. This is my weird infection phase...you aren't sticking anything up there now. Move along.

The med student with the overly enthusiastic attitude. "There's the heartbeat...can you hear it?" with a great big grin on her face. Uh...yeah. Now reassure me it will be there in ten minutes...tomorrow...Sunday. Can you do that? Then lose the damn smile and stop acting like this is cause for celebration. Do I mind if you measure my belly? Well, actually, yeah, I do.

The other med student who stood there awkwardly with a weird smile on his face. What's the matter? Never seen a freak before? Yeah, don't be too happy...that bugs me. Don't be too serious...that bugs me too. But what is that weird look you have? Fear? Don't worry, it's not catchy.

The doctor who admitted he sent the med students in to see us to get them out of his hair. I appreciate his honesty but next time I may have to strangle him.

The lab technician who literally shouted at me from down the hall to have a seat and someone will be right out. I just need the damn glucose drink. I don't need you for an hour. Wait! Stop! Listen! grrrrr....!!!!

And then today...the nurse (Marilyn) who called with my lab results but got my voicemail and couldn't leave the message except that we needed to speak...she would try my work number (I wasn't at work today...I was at a conference...hence, my inability to just answer my cell phone). I call back and get someone else...Marilyn is busy, can she call me back? I explain my unavailability until 4:30 and the receptionist suggests I call back then. I express that I'm a little concerned because Marilyn was calling with test results and made it sound important. What's my social? xxx-xx-xxxx. Oh, it's nothing urgent but I can call back at 4:30 and I will be put right through? You are obviously LOOKING AT my test results...can't YOU just TELL ME what it says? No? Ok...I'll call back. *sigh*

My blood glucose was 133...normal is 130 or less. My iron was 11.6...normal is 12 or above. Great. You want me to do the three hour? Can't I just skip it? I mean, I see where this is headed and I have the meter and all the supplies...can't I just pass on the test and treat myself as if I have gestational diabetes...record my numbers...and we'll go from there? No? OK (I'll email the doctor tomorrow to ask. I mean, really, we all know how this is going to go.)

Oh yeah...and the farrier called to cancel our appointment for this afternoon.

I've spent the day in a continuing legal education conference that was so irritating I was figuring the odds that someone would say, "This is bullshit," and walk out. Unfortunately, nobody did...but I could tell some really wanted to (including my boss).

It's 90+ degrees outside and I feel huge and hurty and very very cranky.

Anyone needs me, I don't care. I'll be eating ice cream in front of the tv (while I still can).

Missed opportunity?

She had it all figured out.

Now she's on bed-rest for contractions.

She's not due until October.

Maybe I should have said something.

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FINALLY a coherent response

I got this email from a friend (who I love dearly)...

Sorry to give unasked for advice, but here it comes. I can't help it. Before your next dr visit or ultrasound, please ask yourself what good does it do to stress myself out and worry over something that may never happen? If something bad is going to happen, it is going to happen regardless of whether you worry and stress about it. And if you go through this pregnancy and something wonderful happens, it is going to happen regardless of whether you worry and stress about it. The worry and stress is not going to prevent anything bad happening. Picture some medieval monk flogging himself. Realize that's pretty much what you're doing to yourself. Once you realize the futility of flogging yourself, you will have the control to make yourself stop doing it. You, and you alone, are in control of it. This is going to be a long pregnancy, and you deserve only good things. This is a time to pamper yourself Catherine. It will take concentration to recognize the signs when you begin to get stressed, and it will take concentration to recognize it for what it is and then to abolish it. But you will be able to do it. There is simply no reason to allow it in your life right now. Think of it as an invading intruder that has crept into your family's home. You need to protect you and your family from this harm. Yes, Sam and Steve don't deserve to have you so worried and stressed either. I'm sure it effects them in a very negative way too. And of course your baby. So do it for them too. As a replacement, meditate on beautiful and fun things instead.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain it...and I finally have something I think makes sense. Two simple points...it's really not all that complicated once you've had time to sort it all out...

You know I love you. And I love unasked for advice. :o) But it’s just not as simple as not worrying. It really messes with your head, having a baby (or two) die inside of you. As a woman, you’re raised to think it’s your job to protect your children (if you become a mother). And over time, as your children grow, you learn that you can’t protect them from everything this world will throw at them. But the ONE thing you never really consider is that your own body will betray you in your effort to keep your children safe. You never think that it will be YOUR failure that will kill your child. Yes, I know there is nothing I can do to control it. Trust me, I’ve learned that in spades. But there is more than just fear…there is guilt and doubt and all sorts of other things that you can’t help but feel when you are the one and only thing keeping a baby alive.

And then there is Sam. You say there is no reason to allow the fear into our lives…but there is. You see, nobody knows, unless they have lived it, what it is like to tell a child that their brothers died before they were even born. At five years old he has learned more than I had to learn in THIRTY years. And as his mother, I can’t help but feel anger at how unfair it is…and I can’t help but want to protect him from more disappointment and heartbreak. See, while other people are planning what to buy their new baby, I’m planning what to say to Sam if things go wrong again. While people talk about what will happen when the new baby comes…we have to talk about IF the new baby comes. We have to. I have to. Because that’s my job as his mother. And while I would love to be all sunshine and roses with Sam, I have to always remember that that isn’t reality for us…that we have to remember that our risks are different than everyone else’s and that there is a possibility that this won’t work out. And while I find that so incredibly difficult to prepare myself for, I also have to prepare my Samuel. Because that’s my job. I’m his mother. And I would be doing him a disservice if I just smiled and pretended like everything was guaranteed to be ok. I can’t and I won’t set him up for that heartbreak ever again. It’s not about fear. It’s about reality. Yes, it’s harsh reality. But it is OUR reality and we can’t ignore it. So if that means a few sleepless nights before doctor appointments, then so be it.

Don’t think it’s all bad. We have allowed ourselves to hope. We have purchased baby clothes (and left the tags on). We talk about what fun it will be if the baby comes home to live with us. We do think about the good things. Just because our perspective is different than everyone else’s, doesn’t mean we’re incapable of feeling the potential and the happiness…it just means we’re realistic about it.