Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
38.2
At our appointment today her heartbeat was baseline 150-160 with spikes up to 180, which the doctor said looked really good. It won't be too long now. We're buying time. Come on natural... I just hope my water doesn't break in the middle of class. That would be a bit odd, to say the least. I've decided if it does, I'll hide behind my desk instead of making a mad dash down the entire hallway to the bathroom. Safer and less messy probably. It's strange the things you think about at this point.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Almost there
Just writing to myself about my feelings.
Well, back to work while I can.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Our Daughter's Profile
Looks like she probably has the Watterson nose. :)
We had a regular check up today. Everything looks good. She measured in at 3 lbs. and 4 oz. Her heartbeat was 148 bpm, and it increased as we listened, which the doctor said she probably woke from the noise of her own amplified heartbeat. I saw her face quite a bit during the ultrasound. She looked a lot like Jonathan to me.
Hello baby girl. We already love you. Your brother smiled when he listened to your heartbeat.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
We're having a baby GIRL!
We're having a girl! Here are some of the ultrasound images from yesterday May 6, 2011. We are really thrilled around here. J.D. and I are so lucky to have Jonathan and this little girl on the way.
Everything looked good. Her heartbeat was 160 bpm. She touched her ear with her tiny fingers while we were watching and rubbed the back of one of her legs with her opposite foot.
After the ultrasound we went to a play date for Jonathan with his buddy Wyatt. Then we went shopping, and I had to buy something pink. :)
We ended the busy day by working outside. I planted some marigolds and petunias while Jonathan splashed happily in his water table, and J.D. raked leaves.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
To meet in September
So, we have some great news. Of course family and some friends know already, but I've been holding this information pretty close, literally. We're expecting another baby!
I haven't put this information online (and I still won't be announcing anything on facebook because of work-related issues). But I wanted to write about things on my blog, so here are some early ultrasound pics.
We're very happy and look forward to finding out if little one is male or female tomorrow. Hopefully I'll have more pictures then. My due date is September 18, 2011.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
My labor: the third day
Finally morning came. After increasing the pitocin all night, I was still only dilated to 2-3 centimeters. The pitocin was up to strength 13 out of 20. (If you reach 20 without anything happening, you're in trouble and headed for an emergency c-section). By now my contractions really hurt.
Around 2:00 p.m., after twelve hours of active labor, I was exhausted. A nurse named Cynthia was worried for me and told me I really needed some sleep. Cynthia is the type of woman I imagine delivering babies in the 19th century. She was tough but kind; she seemed gruff and direct, but she really knew what she was doing. She told me she had delivered her daughter's children at home. I trusted her. She brought in a dose of stadol. I confided in her that I was nervous to take pain relief too soon. I had heard that stadol works for the first dose but becomes far less effective in subsequent doses. And I didn't want to get an epidural too soon if I had a long labor still ahead. Cynthia reassured me it would be ok and what I needed most in the world was a little relief now. I agreed.
Cynthia injected the drug into my IV, and I felt the cool liquid inching its way down the line. I pointed out its progress along my arm and wrist, into my hand. I began to feel sleepy and handed J.D. a quarter-eaten popsicle. Cynthia told me to not fight it, to drift off, to sleep. I felt my body relax. The tension and stress melted. I was completely at peace yet totally conscious. Everyone thought I was asleep, but I could hear and perceive the outside world (at least at first). After some time I went deeper into my own mind and started seeing bright colors and changing shapes, things that reminded me of coloring books from my childhood. I was gliding along in a half-dream world.
I eventually felt sensations I knew were my contractions, but the pain really didn't bother me. I was beyond it. I was tricking the pain-- deceiving it by relaxing through it, ignoring it. In this waking-dream state, one crucial thought came to me. I told myself: "No matter what, I'm leaving here with my baby." That moment of clarity at the depth of my consciousness gave me what I needed most. I knew it was true. Even if I did go through all this and still had to have a c-section, in the end everything would be ok. The pain relief had brought me sleep, but also hope.
While I had been resting, Cynthia had increased my pitocin to strength 18. Yet, I was still only dilated to 2-3 cm. I asked for another dose of stadol after three hours. It helped again but not as powerfully. Cynthia recommended that I get an epidural while the stadol was still in effect. So the anaesthesiologist came in with her cart and started prepping me. She had me sit up and dangle my legs over the side of the bed, leaning my back toward her and letting my head hang down. And most importantly, I had to hold completely still. But just as she was going to do it, she stopped and realized she needed my blood work done. Why on earth I thought didn't they do this before?! Apparently the blood work they did on December 1st was no longer valid since it was now December 3rd.
Eventually someone came to take my blood. I was told they would rush it since I couldn't have the epidural until it was approved. Nor could I get more pain relief until a full three hours from my last dose. By now the stadol had worn off, and I had an hour to go. My contractions were the strongest that the machine could register (a contraction monitor was now inside me. Jonathan even had a mark on his forehead where it scratched him). I've read that if you take pitocin you have stronger contractions than normal. Some sources say it's because your body doesn't produce its own natural adrenaline to keep up with the increasing pain as it would during normal labor. I believe it. I was in serious pain.
The thing about labor for me was that I didn't just feel pain in one focused area of my body; I felt the pain with my entire body. And I couldn't stand or walk or move to deal with it. I had to lie there strapped down. My mountain was 5:00-6:30 p.m.
The pain came in waves, washing over me. I would sense the swelling pain, gathering strength. Then it would move in, rush in-- peaking and overwhelming. My lungs filled with water, so I couldn't breathe. I would cling to the bars by the bed and try to suck air into my chest. Then eventually it would brake and pull away, slowly, slowly trailing off, flowing back to its source. And I knew just as it receded, I would soon have to go through it all over again. I tried to picture myself moving through the oncoming water. I tried (and sometimes succeeded) envisioning myself as the wave instead of the object of its force.
During this time J.D. watched the monitor and told me when I might feel the pain decreasing. Although there was a lag between the visual evidence he saw and my felt experience, his voice helped. Finally, finally around 6:30 the anaesthesiologist returned to give me an epidural. I wasn't worried about it; I just wanted the pain to stop. I leaned over again and pushed my back toward her, all the while trying to hold perfectly still. The contractions made that very difficult. And I still had my blood pressure monitor going off every ten minutes while she tried to stick a needle into my spine. At one point the blood pressure monitor went off during the height of a contraction and registered 197/116. After what seemed like forever, she got the needle in the right place, although it took her three attempts. In ten minutes I felt my body going numb. There was a strange, tingling coldness all the way up to my breasts. She said it was because she had to insert the needle so high. I also started shaking, which she said was normal. Anything was better than feeling the full force of my contractions.
A nurse checked my dilation. I prayed that I would be further along, at least to 4 or hopefully 5, something after those horrible contractions. The last time I was checked, I had still been at 2-3 cm. (They try not to check too often to avoid an infection). But now the nurse exclaimed: "You're fully dilated!" I was shocked. I didn't believe her. I wanted to, but I was afraid she might be wrong. I had jumped from 2-3 centimeters to 10!!! When the doctor came in to confirm it, I was so relieved and happy.
Now, after all this, we were finally ready to move on to the pushing stage of labor.
Around 2:00 p.m., after twelve hours of active labor, I was exhausted. A nurse named Cynthia was worried for me and told me I really needed some sleep. Cynthia is the type of woman I imagine delivering babies in the 19th century. She was tough but kind; she seemed gruff and direct, but she really knew what she was doing. She told me she had delivered her daughter's children at home. I trusted her. She brought in a dose of stadol. I confided in her that I was nervous to take pain relief too soon. I had heard that stadol works for the first dose but becomes far less effective in subsequent doses. And I didn't want to get an epidural too soon if I had a long labor still ahead. Cynthia reassured me it would be ok and what I needed most in the world was a little relief now. I agreed.
Cynthia injected the drug into my IV, and I felt the cool liquid inching its way down the line. I pointed out its progress along my arm and wrist, into my hand. I began to feel sleepy and handed J.D. a quarter-eaten popsicle. Cynthia told me to not fight it, to drift off, to sleep. I felt my body relax. The tension and stress melted. I was completely at peace yet totally conscious. Everyone thought I was asleep, but I could hear and perceive the outside world (at least at first). After some time I went deeper into my own mind and started seeing bright colors and changing shapes, things that reminded me of coloring books from my childhood. I was gliding along in a half-dream world.
I eventually felt sensations I knew were my contractions, but the pain really didn't bother me. I was beyond it. I was tricking the pain-- deceiving it by relaxing through it, ignoring it. In this waking-dream state, one crucial thought came to me. I told myself: "No matter what, I'm leaving here with my baby." That moment of clarity at the depth of my consciousness gave me what I needed most. I knew it was true. Even if I did go through all this and still had to have a c-section, in the end everything would be ok. The pain relief had brought me sleep, but also hope.
While I had been resting, Cynthia had increased my pitocin to strength 18. Yet, I was still only dilated to 2-3 cm. I asked for another dose of stadol after three hours. It helped again but not as powerfully. Cynthia recommended that I get an epidural while the stadol was still in effect. So the anaesthesiologist came in with her cart and started prepping me. She had me sit up and dangle my legs over the side of the bed, leaning my back toward her and letting my head hang down. And most importantly, I had to hold completely still. But just as she was going to do it, she stopped and realized she needed my blood work done. Why on earth I thought didn't they do this before?! Apparently the blood work they did on December 1st was no longer valid since it was now December 3rd.
Eventually someone came to take my blood. I was told they would rush it since I couldn't have the epidural until it was approved. Nor could I get more pain relief until a full three hours from my last dose. By now the stadol had worn off, and I had an hour to go. My contractions were the strongest that the machine could register (a contraction monitor was now inside me. Jonathan even had a mark on his forehead where it scratched him). I've read that if you take pitocin you have stronger contractions than normal. Some sources say it's because your body doesn't produce its own natural adrenaline to keep up with the increasing pain as it would during normal labor. I believe it. I was in serious pain.
The thing about labor for me was that I didn't just feel pain in one focused area of my body; I felt the pain with my entire body. And I couldn't stand or walk or move to deal with it. I had to lie there strapped down. My mountain was 5:00-6:30 p.m.
The pain came in waves, washing over me. I would sense the swelling pain, gathering strength. Then it would move in, rush in-- peaking and overwhelming. My lungs filled with water, so I couldn't breathe. I would cling to the bars by the bed and try to suck air into my chest. Then eventually it would brake and pull away, slowly, slowly trailing off, flowing back to its source. And I knew just as it receded, I would soon have to go through it all over again. I tried to picture myself moving through the oncoming water. I tried (and sometimes succeeded) envisioning myself as the wave instead of the object of its force.
During this time J.D. watched the monitor and told me when I might feel the pain decreasing. Although there was a lag between the visual evidence he saw and my felt experience, his voice helped. Finally, finally around 6:30 the anaesthesiologist returned to give me an epidural. I wasn't worried about it; I just wanted the pain to stop. I leaned over again and pushed my back toward her, all the while trying to hold perfectly still. The contractions made that very difficult. And I still had my blood pressure monitor going off every ten minutes while she tried to stick a needle into my spine. At one point the blood pressure monitor went off during the height of a contraction and registered 197/116. After what seemed like forever, she got the needle in the right place, although it took her three attempts. In ten minutes I felt my body going numb. There was a strange, tingling coldness all the way up to my breasts. She said it was because she had to insert the needle so high. I also started shaking, which she said was normal. Anything was better than feeling the full force of my contractions.
A nurse checked my dilation. I prayed that I would be further along, at least to 4 or hopefully 5, something after those horrible contractions. The last time I was checked, I had still been at 2-3 cm. (They try not to check too often to avoid an infection). But now the nurse exclaimed: "You're fully dilated!" I was shocked. I didn't believe her. I wanted to, but I was afraid she might be wrong. I had jumped from 2-3 centimeters to 10!!! When the doctor came in to confirm it, I was so relieved and happy.
Now, after all this, we were finally ready to move on to the pushing stage of labor.
My three epidural stab marks. The highest one finally worked.
Monday, January 18, 2010
My labor: Days 1 & 2
Yesterday we went to buy a mattress for Jonathan. At the baby store, I saw a very pregnant woman and suddenly thought: "Oh, she has to go through labor soon." It triggered a momentary feeling of apprehension, and then relief that I was past that hurdle.
It's been six weeks, and I didn't write here about my labor. I did take my real journal to the hospital with me. I wanted to remember as much detail as possible and document the story of Jonathan's birth. My friend Catherine had warned me that things would become fuzzy afterward. It's true. Maybe it's the drugs, hormones, or just the fact you have to move on immediately to the new reality of keeping your little bundle alive outside your body. Whatever it is, your mind doesn't impress all the details into long-term memory without help. So I wrote things down.
After grabbing my bag and kissing the kitties goodbye, we arrived at the hospital by 4:30 p.m. December 1, 2009. I was not in active labor; my doctor wanted me induced. I stood at the hospital's sliding doors not wanting to go in; in fact, I walked away, looking at the yellow sunset and breathing the cold December air. I was afraid, and I knew it would be a long time before I would walk out those doors again. J.D. came and stood by me, hugged me, took my hand and walked with me. We went up to the fifth floor. They didn't have any open delivery beds. I heard a male nurse joke that it was December and there was no room in the inn. Other nurses blamed the full moon.
We were put in the emergency care area. They had me change into the standard embarrassing (literally) hospital robe. They began rounds of questions about my medical history, family members' health, etc. A woman came to get our insurance information. Then they took my blood sample, started my IV (it really stung), and left us to wait. I was able to walk around a little to pass the time, but mostly I was strapped down with the fetal heartbeat and contraction monitors. They were two bands placed very tightly around my belly. They became bunched up and after awhile felt like they were cutting into my skin. Finally, at 11:30 p.m., after seven hours of waiting we were given a room.
It was room 501, right by the main doors & freight elevator. It was very noisy with people coming & going and talking outside our door. The elevator made a whining sound like a woman crying in labor. They put the straps around me again and added a blood pressure monitor that went off every half hour. At midnight they gave me a drug called cervidil to soften my cervix. It takes 12 hours to work. We tried to sleep after 1:00 a.m. J.D. had a chair by my bed, and my Mom had a similar reclining chair in the corner. My bed was hard and too short for me, so sleeping was an awkward challenge. Mostly, I just hoped the cervidil would work. On a positive note, the nurses kept commenting that Jonathan's heartbeat was beautiful, and judging by that, he was a very healthy, strong baby. That gave me hope.
In the morning J.D. & my Mom went to find breakfast. I could tell from my small window that it was raining outside. At 1:20 p.m. they took out the cervidil gel implant. After 12+ hours, I was only dilated to 1 cm. I felt crushed. My doctor had warned me that half of all inductions end in c-section, even after long hours of labor. The doctors discussed giving me something called a "foley bulb," a mechanical device placed inside to open the cervix. It blows up slowly like a balloon. It sounded painful, but I was willing to do whatever I needed to move things along. They also discussed giving me another round of cervidil. I admit, I cried at that point. I was so tired and uncomfortable, and 12 more hours of lying there strapped down to my bed (before actual labor even began) seemed more than I could bear. I was worried I wouldn't have enough strength for the hardest part yet to come. I felt weak too because I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. In the end, it was decided the cervidil would be best. I was allowed to have some food to keep my strength up. I know hospital food is known to be bad, but it was such a relief to eat something. I had chicken tenders, veggies, milk, and even chocolate cake. I felt like that chocolate cake saved my life.
By now I was feeling my contractions. There was a tightness in my stomach area. I had been having mild contractions since the day before, but now I could really tell. Meanwhile, throughout the day they kept doing cervical checks. I'm not going to lie; they were painful, especially because I wasn't dilated much. Some doctors and nurses were more gentle than others. Some were rough-- one in particular, "Dr. Skinner" ironically-- hurt me quite a bit. He also scared me by his dramatic overreacting. At one time he burst into the room and told the nurses to give me oxygen. He said the baby's heart rate was looking strange. In reality, everything was fine. I could have told them that I just needed to be able to move and turn on my side. Once I was able to lie on my side, Jonathan's heartbeat picked up.
The day passed waiting for some change. But nothing did other than the hospital staff. Different doctors, nurses, and medical students came and went. One highlight that evening was when J.D. and Mom went for dinner and snuck back a milkshake for me. I ate a few fries too. Then we tried to sleep again.
At 1:00 a.m. I woke from a half-sleep. I felt water trickling down my leg and worried for a minute that maybe I couldn't hold my bladder. I had J.D. help unstrap me, so I could make it to the bathroom. It was my water breaking. It was a good sign that something was happening. A doctor checked me again. Although I was still only dilated to 1 cm, my cervix was soft and effaced. So, at exactly 2:19 a.m. they started the pitocin to really bring on my contractions.
Throughout the long night my contractions grew in intensity. J.D. and Mom were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake them. There I was in the dark trying to rest but mostly feeling the increasing contractions. The hours ticked by. I listened to nurses and doctors coming and going through the main door outside my room. The elevator still moaned in its labor. I watched two distant twinkling lights out my window. I rubbed my belly and talked softly to Jonathan through the long, long night.
It's been six weeks, and I didn't write here about my labor. I did take my real journal to the hospital with me. I wanted to remember as much detail as possible and document the story of Jonathan's birth. My friend Catherine had warned me that things would become fuzzy afterward. It's true. Maybe it's the drugs, hormones, or just the fact you have to move on immediately to the new reality of keeping your little bundle alive outside your body. Whatever it is, your mind doesn't impress all the details into long-term memory without help. So I wrote things down.
After grabbing my bag and kissing the kitties goodbye, we arrived at the hospital by 4:30 p.m. December 1, 2009. I was not in active labor; my doctor wanted me induced. I stood at the hospital's sliding doors not wanting to go in; in fact, I walked away, looking at the yellow sunset and breathing the cold December air. I was afraid, and I knew it would be a long time before I would walk out those doors again. J.D. came and stood by me, hugged me, took my hand and walked with me. We went up to the fifth floor. They didn't have any open delivery beds. I heard a male nurse joke that it was December and there was no room in the inn. Other nurses blamed the full moon.
We were put in the emergency care area. They had me change into the standard embarrassing (literally) hospital robe. They began rounds of questions about my medical history, family members' health, etc. A woman came to get our insurance information. Then they took my blood sample, started my IV (it really stung), and left us to wait. I was able to walk around a little to pass the time, but mostly I was strapped down with the fetal heartbeat and contraction monitors. They were two bands placed very tightly around my belly. They became bunched up and after awhile felt like they were cutting into my skin. Finally, at 11:30 p.m., after seven hours of waiting we were given a room.
It was room 501, right by the main doors & freight elevator. It was very noisy with people coming & going and talking outside our door. The elevator made a whining sound like a woman crying in labor. They put the straps around me again and added a blood pressure monitor that went off every half hour. At midnight they gave me a drug called cervidil to soften my cervix. It takes 12 hours to work. We tried to sleep after 1:00 a.m. J.D. had a chair by my bed, and my Mom had a similar reclining chair in the corner. My bed was hard and too short for me, so sleeping was an awkward challenge. Mostly, I just hoped the cervidil would work. On a positive note, the nurses kept commenting that Jonathan's heartbeat was beautiful, and judging by that, he was a very healthy, strong baby. That gave me hope.
In the morning J.D. & my Mom went to find breakfast. I could tell from my small window that it was raining outside. At 1:20 p.m. they took out the cervidil gel implant. After 12+ hours, I was only dilated to 1 cm. I felt crushed. My doctor had warned me that half of all inductions end in c-section, even after long hours of labor. The doctors discussed giving me something called a "foley bulb," a mechanical device placed inside to open the cervix. It blows up slowly like a balloon. It sounded painful, but I was willing to do whatever I needed to move things along. They also discussed giving me another round of cervidil. I admit, I cried at that point. I was so tired and uncomfortable, and 12 more hours of lying there strapped down to my bed (before actual labor even began) seemed more than I could bear. I was worried I wouldn't have enough strength for the hardest part yet to come. I felt weak too because I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. In the end, it was decided the cervidil would be best. I was allowed to have some food to keep my strength up. I know hospital food is known to be bad, but it was such a relief to eat something. I had chicken tenders, veggies, milk, and even chocolate cake. I felt like that chocolate cake saved my life.
By now I was feeling my contractions. There was a tightness in my stomach area. I had been having mild contractions since the day before, but now I could really tell. Meanwhile, throughout the day they kept doing cervical checks. I'm not going to lie; they were painful, especially because I wasn't dilated much. Some doctors and nurses were more gentle than others. Some were rough-- one in particular, "Dr. Skinner" ironically-- hurt me quite a bit. He also scared me by his dramatic overreacting. At one time he burst into the room and told the nurses to give me oxygen. He said the baby's heart rate was looking strange. In reality, everything was fine. I could have told them that I just needed to be able to move and turn on my side. Once I was able to lie on my side, Jonathan's heartbeat picked up.
The day passed waiting for some change. But nothing did other than the hospital staff. Different doctors, nurses, and medical students came and went. One highlight that evening was when J.D. and Mom went for dinner and snuck back a milkshake for me. I ate a few fries too. Then we tried to sleep again.
At 1:00 a.m. I woke from a half-sleep. I felt water trickling down my leg and worried for a minute that maybe I couldn't hold my bladder. I had J.D. help unstrap me, so I could make it to the bathroom. It was my water breaking. It was a good sign that something was happening. A doctor checked me again. Although I was still only dilated to 1 cm, my cervix was soft and effaced. So, at exactly 2:19 a.m. they started the pitocin to really bring on my contractions.
Throughout the long night my contractions grew in intensity. J.D. and Mom were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake them. There I was in the dark trying to rest but mostly feeling the increasing contractions. The hours ticked by. I listened to nurses and doctors coming and going through the main door outside my room. The elevator still moaned in its labor. I watched two distant twinkling lights out my window. I rubbed my belly and talked softly to Jonathan through the long, long night.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Thought
The philosopher William James noted that “The first sensation an infant gets is for him the Universe.” I so want my baby’s introduction to this world to be the nearness of his mother’s body and the sensation he is loved.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
"The World Thinks 'Morgan' Sounds Stupid..."
You may need to search and select the interview for the book "What to Expect When You're Expected." It's a self-help book for the unborn. :)
Friday, October 9, 2009
So Chic
I found this and thought I would share.
Apparently the song doesn't play for some, so here are the lyrics:
It's so chic to be pregnant at Christmas
I feel like the "round yon virgin" of yore,
'Cause though I have a warm bed to sleep in
There's no room for me when I go to the store.
'Cause the aisles are so narrow and crowded--
Christmas shopping has never been such a pain (gasp)
Here comes another Braxton-Hicks contraction
And I'm knockin' over knick-knacks again.
Oh, the salesclerks are so friendly this Christmas
One said, "Oh God, lady, don't have it here--"
Their discretion and manners go right out the door,
When I and my stomach appear.
People like to put their hands on my fundus,
And they want to know exactly when I'm due
I say, "Why do you care? Are you planning to be there?
I could use an extra labor coach or two!"
I am such fun at a party
Trying hard to get high on life
Desperately avoiding the smokers
Being introduced as someone's "little wife" (Not-so-little wife).
No, I enjoy being pregnant at Christmas
Though my identity is draining away
And if I ever get asked my opinion again
I'll simply smile and continue to...crochet?
It's so Biblical to be pregnant at Christmas,
No matter what stories you believe.
And I may suffer from gravid senilis...and heartburn and nausea and charlie horses and overwhelming fatigue...and frequent micturation and varicose veins and...swollen ankles and shortness...of breath...and that...tired, achy feeling in the grooooooin...
But I won't be alone on New Year's Eve!
Fa-La-La-La-La La-La La La!
It looks like this song is from an album called "Momnipotent," which includes other humorous selections:
1. I'm Babbling
2. It's So Chic to be Pregnant at Christmas
3. Memo to Droola
4. Child on Board
5. Suzy Money Gone Away
6. Everything Turn to Ratshit in My Life
7. Momnipotent
8. Stroller Ladies
9. Daughters of Feminists
10. Leonard Cohen's Never Gonna Bring My Groceries In
11. Mammas Have a Secret
12. The Children's Entertainer
13. Open That Can
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Prenatal Visit
Little boy likes to rest his arm across his face and keep his legs pulled tightly against his chest. Today he had his arm by his cheeks and forehead, in a pose that seemed something like what I would do to jokingly reference Béla Lugosi in Plan 9 from Outer Space. So, I couldn't help but laugh. The ultrasound pictures this time around don't really capture it, but here they are anyway. We also got to see his spine, kidneys, bladder, and heart again. The technician even pointed out a tuft of his hair. Everything is going well. He weighs 4lbs. 4 oz. or 1918 grams. His heartbeat was 153 beats per minute. And it was confirmed again that he is most definitely all boy. As for me, everything is fine too. I got my seasonal flu shot, and I passed my glucose test. So, we're both doing really well.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
All the Absurd Things
In the universe find their way to me.
Tonight we watched The Mutant Chronicles, which is a movie based on a table-top game J.D. used to play. My favorite part was the Netflix description that started with these four magical words: "In a futuristic world. . . ." OK, you KNOW you're in trouble when you read that! At first I read it normally, but then, I just had to reread it in my best impersonation of the dramatic-movie-guy's voice.
Also silly today: I was on the elevator leaving my doctor's appointment. A man got on when it stopped on the second floor. There are three levels to the parking garage: G1, G2, G3. The man entered and stared for a long time at the elevator button panel. Then he turned to me and asked: "Where's my car?"
I politely indicated that I didn't know. He pushed all three buttons and said he would just explore each level. I waited until I was outside before giggling.
Also of great absurdity: All pregnancy magazine ads. I can't believe the stuff people think they need. Take for example this ad:
So the message here is that it's just consumer "lust" if you buy a $149 hospital gown but a "must" have at $50? Perhaps even more disturbing is the entire underlying message that a woman must be concerned first and foremost about her looks, even while giving birth: "looking good just feels better, doesn't it?" Sure, when I'm in labor I'll really care about the print on my hospital gown. Never mind the fact that your most personal parts are on display. . . you should care about what floral pattern you're wearing!
And then there's this delightful number advertising a breast pump for every glamorous socialite. I won't even go into my criticism here:
Tonight we watched The Mutant Chronicles, which is a movie based on a table-top game J.D. used to play. My favorite part was the Netflix description that started with these four magical words: "In a futuristic world. . . ." OK, you KNOW you're in trouble when you read that! At first I read it normally, but then, I just had to reread it in my best impersonation of the dramatic-movie-guy's voice.
Also silly today: I was on the elevator leaving my doctor's appointment. A man got on when it stopped on the second floor. There are three levels to the parking garage: G1, G2, G3. The man entered and stared for a long time at the elevator button panel. Then he turned to me and asked: "Where's my car?"
I politely indicated that I didn't know. He pushed all three buttons and said he would just explore each level. I waited until I was outside before giggling.
Also of great absurdity: All pregnancy magazine ads. I can't believe the stuff people think they need. Take for example this ad:
So the message here is that it's just consumer "lust" if you buy a $149 hospital gown but a "must" have at $50? Perhaps even more disturbing is the entire underlying message that a woman must be concerned first and foremost about her looks, even while giving birth: "looking good just feels better, doesn't it?" Sure, when I'm in labor I'll really care about the print on my hospital gown. Never mind the fact that your most personal parts are on display. . . you should care about what floral pattern you're wearing!
And then there's this delightful number advertising a breast pump for every glamorous socialite. I won't even go into my criticism here:
Friday, September 25, 2009
"Best if served chilled"
I took my glucose test today. At 8:25 I downed the flat, super-sweet orange drink. I did have a choice of that or lime flavored, but I decided to go with a known evil. I found the writing on the label highly entertaining: "Best if served chilled." Yeah right. Let's just say it was not chilled, but I'm not sure that would have helped much anyway. I copied this part of the label too: "Administer test in the morning, when possible, and advise patient to remain quiet for duration of the test." Remain quiet? What, so I can't complain about feeling queasy? :) I waited for an hour; they took my blood sample, and then I walked home.
It was a beautiful day here. On my walk there were tons of September roses in bloom. They smelled lovely. Once I was home I took a nap, and then J.D. came to get me for his company's fall picnic. I really enjoyed being out of the apartment and getting a little vitamin D, having a hamburger for lunch, and laughing with J.D.'s co-workers. Good times.
Relaxing in the shade with J.D. We were watching the "Washers" tournament, which apparently is a Midwestern thing. We later played a game against Steve and James. J.D. and I both scored a "ringer," the most difficult throw. The game involves throwing 3 to 4 washers into a box. If it goes into the box, you get a point. If it lands really close to the box, you can also possibly score a point. If it goes into a cup inside the box, then you get a ringer, worth 3 points. It's a pretty simple game. Everyone throws the washers one at a time. Except me-- I tried throwing them all at once, and ironically, that is when I did my best! I called it my "cheater-cat" move, but we all laughed. It was a lot of fun.
I saw my first "keg stand". . . don't worry, the pregnant lady did NOT participate. (Nor would I ever). Although J.D. said he has done a keg stand before (read: college Kappa Sigma days). He said he lasted about 20 seconds and hated every one of them. The female pictured here lasted about 8 seconds before she started spurting beer everywhere. I think someone else did 12 seconds, but they almost dropped that person on her head. We didn't stay long once they started the food and beer consumption games.
J.D., Steve, and James.A very good day.
Monday, September 21, 2009
H1N1: To get the shot or not
SLU (St. Louis University) is conducting an H1N1 Swine Flu vaccination trial, and they've asked me if I want to be part of the study.
I've read over some articles online about pregnant women getting the vaccination, and a few people write really terrible, judgmental comments: "What horrible mother would jeopardize the life of her child?" Well, first of all Mr. Hysterical-Pants, this vaccine is not that different from the normal flu shot, which has been recommended for pregnant women as standard practice for a long time now.
Granted, I'm not saying "yes," I'm doing it-- I'm just weighing the possibility. Honestly, I've been trying to decide whether or not to get the shot at all. But if I'm getting it anyway, why not be closely monitored in the process? The full study results are probably not going to be out before I would need the vaccination anyway.
Still, it's difficult to make decisions that affect more than myself.
So, are you getting the shot? Would you if you were pregnant right now?
I've read over some articles online about pregnant women getting the vaccination, and a few people write really terrible, judgmental comments: "What horrible mother would jeopardize the life of her child?" Well, first of all Mr. Hysterical-Pants, this vaccine is not that different from the normal flu shot, which has been recommended for pregnant women as standard practice for a long time now.
Granted, I'm not saying "yes," I'm doing it-- I'm just weighing the possibility. Honestly, I've been trying to decide whether or not to get the shot at all. But if I'm getting it anyway, why not be closely monitored in the process? The full study results are probably not going to be out before I would need the vaccination anyway.
Still, it's difficult to make decisions that affect more than myself.
So, are you getting the shot? Would you if you were pregnant right now?
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Pregnant Eve
When I had the opportunity to see Rodin's house & garden, I encountered his bronze Eve. At first, I was repulsed. Here was another male judgment of fallen womanhood, of woman as the weak and ashamed temptress, cast down for bringing the forbidden fruit to man. Her arms defensively attempt to shield her heart from the onslaught of Adam and God's blame. Her head is tilted submissively, and her gaze is downcast. She is the punished woman, reacting in fear and pain for her "sin" of seeking knowledge.
The sculpture seemed so traditional, so banal, so overwhelmingly misogynist in its message. But as I stood there looking at Eve, in her corner room with the light falling around her, the longer I stared, the more her slightly rounded belly spoke to me. And genuinely looking at her, my hostility melted away. I began to feel sympathetic with Eve, even in her fearful pose. I turned on my audio guide and discovered that Rodin's model had been pregnant. Rodin later learned this and realized Eve was pregnant too. Both the model and statue had evaded the great artist's consciousness.
The Eve standing before me spoke with her obvious gestures the narrative men have constructed about women. Yet, under the flamboyant artifice was the more genuine, natural truth. Eve had in part escaped the sculptor; she was not just the embodiment of men blaming womankind for "original sin"-- she was a woman carrying the secret, creative knowledge born inside and solely reachable by women. She was no longer just what men think of women, but often what women feel and experience beyond the designs and realizations of men.
I felt this quite powerfully. Yet, even the audio guide attempted to reestablish Rodin's original narrative. They commented that this bronze Eve was "condemned to eternal gestation." This judgment of pregnancy is a completely limited perspective on women's lives, power, and bodies. This argument follows the declaration in Genesis that pregnancy is primarily a punishment, God's curse to bear children in pain. But from what I have experienced so far about pregnancy, I certainly don't feel "doomed" or "condemned," but truly a part of life and something beautiful, creative, and potent. The audio commentary and Rodin's original message seemed to miss so much of the reality of what it means to be pregnant and part of the eternal maternal-- far beyond the grasp of an angry, patriarchal God's punishment for merely existing as a woman. In truth pregnancy is closer to the creative source of love and life, which is partially accompanied by pain and fear but arises through the inner depth and strength of womankind.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Perspectives on Pregnancy
From ME'AM LO'EZ, Sephardic Jewish commentary on Genesis, published Istanbul 1730.
Disembodying Women: Perspectives on Pregnancy and the Unborn. Barbara Duden, Trans. Lee Hoinacki. Harvard UP, 1993.
"How is the little creature (kryatura) in the belly of its mother? Let your mind imagine that the kryatura, being inside the belly of its mother, can be likened to a twig doubled in half. And some say like a walnut which lies inside a watery skin, with its two hands resting on its breasts, the elbows of its arms lying on its two knees, its two heels drawn up under its backside, its head also on its knees, the mouth closed, the umbilical cord open, since through this it eats what its mother eats and drinks what its mother drinks. And there is no discharge from its body, for otherwise it would kill its mother. And when it is born, what was closed is opened, what was open is closed, for if it were not thus it could not remain living for even an hour. And it has a burning candle near its head, and it sees from one corner of the world to the other, all the while being in the belly of its mother. And in all the life of that person, it never enjoys better days than those."
From Confucian Classics, Chao Song 1991: 318.
"If parents prefer a boy, the mother should use a bow and arrow and ride mares. . . . If the child is to be beautiful, the mother should handle objects made of white jade and observe peacocks. If the child is to be virtuous and capable, the mother should be reading poems and books."
Disembodying Women: Perspectives on Pregnancy and the Unborn. Barbara Duden, Trans. Lee Hoinacki. Harvard UP, 1993.
"How is the little creature (kryatura) in the belly of its mother? Let your mind imagine that the kryatura, being inside the belly of its mother, can be likened to a twig doubled in half. And some say like a walnut which lies inside a watery skin, with its two hands resting on its breasts, the elbows of its arms lying on its two knees, its two heels drawn up under its backside, its head also on its knees, the mouth closed, the umbilical cord open, since through this it eats what its mother eats and drinks what its mother drinks. And there is no discharge from its body, for otherwise it would kill its mother. And when it is born, what was closed is opened, what was open is closed, for if it were not thus it could not remain living for even an hour. And it has a burning candle near its head, and it sees from one corner of the world to the other, all the while being in the belly of its mother. And in all the life of that person, it never enjoys better days than those."
From Confucian Classics, Chao Song 1991: 318.
"If parents prefer a boy, the mother should use a bow and arrow and ride mares. . . . If the child is to be beautiful, the mother should handle objects made of white jade and observe peacocks. If the child is to be virtuous and capable, the mother should be reading poems and books."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)