Small Good Things (Vacation Edition)

1. There were a million and one pregnant women.  At the next table at restaurants.  Parading around in bikinis and tattoos.  Pushing double strollers.  Drinking beer.  And finally I'm part of that club.  (Not drinking beer, obviously, but you get the drift.)
2. I can still get into my two-piece bathing suit, so long as I'm willing to show off the Lovenox bruises.  That's good, because maternity bathing suits strike me as absolutely hideous and really I'm not that big. 
3. Despite our radical differences in terms of how we would like to spend our time away from home, LG and I both enjoyed the beach.  And she convinced me to get in the hotel pool with her, which was especially nice for the hip I messed up during a long walk.
4. I think I ate the best breakfast I've had in years this morning.  It was this scrambled egg thing with pesto and provolone, and I filched LG's potatoes since I was being virtuous and ordered the fruit instead.  LG said we're definitely going back to Beach Town, so I'll have something to look forward to next time.
5. Three days away was good.  And now I'm looking forward to climbing into my own bed, with my own extra pillow jammed under my leg.  Good night, y'all.

The Cheap Seats

There's a mega-concert on campus tonight.  A band I actually like.  I can hear it from my bedroom, with the windows closed.  If I went outside, I'd probably be able to enjoy it.  (Have I mentioned we live about a mile from campus?)

Alas, The Headache hasn't been this bad since I've been pregnant.  Actually had to crack out the good (OB approved) drugs.  It's the pulsing in my ear that did me in.

I think now I'm going to close my eyes and reminisce about a certain ex-boyfriend who introduced me to this band, back when I was a twenty-one year old grad student with jet black hair.  Sigh.

Musings about SMChood

LG and I were at the park today.  She climbed the playground equipment while I sat on my butt and rubbed my belly.  You know, one of those idyllic mom and kid moments.  And I thought how easy (single) parenting is at this stage of things.  Like, she helped me do the dishes so we could get out of the house and do what she wanted to do.  Like, she can spend hours amusing herself independently.  Like, we can get in the car and do what we want on the weekends without worrying about diaper bags and naptimes and all that.

Yeah, in a few months--assuming this pregnancy thing works out--things won't be so easy anymore.  Everything will involve much more planning.  And less regularity.  And I'm sure I will have moments that I will desperately miss the kind of balance that we have finally achieved, even if I finally have what we've both wanted for so long.  Then again, I will have it back some day, probably in about five years, when I can ask LG to babysit her sibling while I run out to the store.

A Sneak Peek (17w4d)

Well, folks, it looks like I picked the right OB.  When I talked to the nurse today, she asked me how many contractions I was having.  Honestly, I haven't been keeping track.  There are days (today) they're almost constant and other days, well, not so much.  She called me back about an hour later and said I needed to come in today to have my cervix checked.

Oh, transvaginal ultrasounds, how I have missed thee.

Cervix is fine--long with no signs of funneling.  And I have a lovely picture of a fetal foot.  And a fetal face.  But I have to say what turned me into a puddle of ultrasound goo was seeing a little baby hand.  All five fingers and a palm.

Back in two weeks for my "real" ultrasound and regular OB appointment, at which point I suppose I'll ask about my rather crabby uterus.

I Hate the Phone (and The 17 Week Freakout)

Yesterday, I received my new insurance ID card in the mail and began the torturous process of "activating" it.  See, this is the first time in my adult life I've had an HMO.  Until now I've done just fine without a primary care giver; I've seen an ob/gyn, an RE, and a neurologist and managed just fine between them.  But not only do you need a primary with this new HMO--that I only signed up for because it will save me about $300/month!--but apparently somebody assigned both LG and I primary docs without consulting us.  Oh-kay.  First I called the primary I thought I wanted to use to set up an appointment, only to be told (1) she's not accepting new patients and (2) I need to call the insurance to find out who is "preferred."  (This was after being put on hold for about 10 minutes.) 

I called the insurance to learn that there's no such thing as a "preferred" doctor--they either contract with my insurance or they don't.  Insurance Guy #1 suggested that I call the primary first and get an appointment (umm, yeah, I tried to do that) and then call the insurance company back.  Sounds fine, so I thought I'd go ahead and assign LG's primary, since her pediatrician will not change.  This was the point at which I learned she'd been assigned a ped (by someone in HR?) and I need to "request" a change, which sounded like an extraordinarily complicated thing that might not be approved.  WTF. 

I then proceeded to ask about all the rigamarole involved in seeing a hematogist at my ob's request.  The problem, of course, from their standpoint is that a specialist cannot refer you to another specialist.  The problem from my end, obviously, is that this insurance doesn't start until July 1, and my appointment, long arranged, is scheduled for July 6.  Which means I need to pay out of pocket and just hope I get a retroactive referral from whatever primary care provider I end up with.  Gee, that's fine.  Turns out--of course Insurance Guy #1 didn't volunteer this information--I too have been assigned a primary already.  Okay, I said, let me know who it is so I can look her up.  Might work out fine.

Well, as it turns out, the doctor I've been assigned is not female (despite my wrongful assumption based on first name) nor an MD, but a DO, which is the thing around these parts of the country.  Two strikes against him.  I decide I want nothing to do with the first practice I called, since I can't see the doctor I actually want, but, yes, another DO with minimal experience.  Then I wise up and decide to look at the university "internal medicine clinic" to find a huge list of female MDs.  I mean, it's the university clinic which has to take their own fucking health insurance.  I call.  The one I want to see--I'll admit this is a fairly arbitrary decision but it has to do with where she went to school--is booked until October.  I tell the receptionist I can't wait until October, so is there another female doctor who is NOT a resident who can see me before then?  Yes, indeedy.  I've got an appointment with a reasonable alternative for the end of July.  All this, just because my ob wants me to see a hematologist as soon as humanly possible.  Sigh.

So I call back and get Insurance Girl #2, who is very friendly, assigns me the primary doc I want without a problem.  Asks me if I need to do that for LG.  While I have her on the phone I decide to ask about the hematologist situation, only to learn that I can probably be authorized to see her as part of my "transitional care," as it's within the first 90 days of having the new insurance.  Thank you, Insurance Girl #2!  Then I call the hematologist's office, give them the phone number and all the rigamarole and hope that that's been taken care of.  If not, I'll cancel the appointment.

Is this enough drama for you?  In the middle of all this, I decide it's time for the 17 Week Freakout because I am still having fairly regular contractions and not really feeling the baby as much as I think I should, given how early I started feeling it.  It's also been 3.5 weeks since my last OB appointment, and 5.5 weeks since my last ultrasound.  Thankfully, my OB's office takes online messages so I didn't need to talk to anyone.  Or so I thought.  Now I'm in the midst of a phone tag game as the nurse consults with my OB about whether or not it's time to bring me in and check my cervix.

I really hate the phone.

Pregnancy, Paranoia, and Epigenetics

Fucking Baby Center sent me an article yesterday--which is apparently all over the news--about how sleeping on one's left side during pregnancy halves the risk of stillbirth.  Now, the academic in me recognizes this for what this is:  pretty questionable science.  The control group was "normal" pregnant women and the other group was women who had a stillbirth who were asked about their sleep habits the night before fetal demise.  Even then, the number they came up with is less than 4 stillbirths out of 1000, which is to say, not many at all.

Now, having known women in this community who have had stillbirths and being at "high risk" (at least according to my first OB) for stillbirth myself, I don't take this news lightly, however specious I find the "study" itself.  The logic, as most pregnant women know, has to do with increased blood flow (i.e. oxygen) to the placenta; this "news" isn't really "new" to obstetrics.  And, to be sure, when I was pregnant with LG, I really did try to sleep on my left side, even though I usually sleep on my right.  So I guess it's time to start practicing again, now that I've got the beginnings of lower back and hip pain anyway.  Because the last thing I want is to blame myself for something that goes wrong during this pregnancy.  A-hem.

I don't want to be a complete freak about what I do and what goes into my body.  And generally I am comforted by the basic epigenetic idea that this baby will end up being a different person--that is, MY KID--because s/he's gestating in my uterus, instead of the donor's uterus, or another woman's uterus altogether.  (One of the major reasons that DE was much more appealing to me as an option than adoption.)  I eat pretty well, if perhaps a tad light on the green veggies.  I don't take OTC drugs indiscriminately, though I will admit to needing a daily antihistimine (okayed by Dr. Gorgeous and my OB) and using Tylenol on occasion.  My major source of caffeine is dark chocolate.  I'm on track to gain the 28-40 lbs I'm supposed to gain, starting this pregnancy underweight.  And my stress level is unquestionably lower than it's been probably in the past three years, even with this ongoing tenure drama.  That is, if the Lovenox/aspirin combo does what it's supposed to do, I should end up with a healthy average sized baby at the end of all this.  And if both donor's baby photos and profiles are any indication, s/he'll probably look a whole heck of a lot like me and LG.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go fret about my "real" writing.  Over a cup of decaf.

Brooding

Some facts:  I am avoiding checking work email and answering work email when I do check it (even if it would take about 30 seconds to do so).  I am in a complete state of denial about summer school starting in two weeks and have done nothing beyond ordering books to prepare for my class.  I am having angry conversations with my department chair (not in real life, only in my head) in which I go ballistic about his suggestion for me to do "service" for 9 weeks and not just give me a semester off (which would not be an issue if only I'd asked to take my grant in the spring instead of the fall but I didn't see this one coming).  I am becoming more and more convinced that I might not get tenure, after all this drama.

In a nutshell, I'm brooding about work instead of brooding about gestating.  And then I get angry that I am brooding about work and not just enjoying being pregnant.  I am full of rage about this tenure debacle, and I do not like it.  The end result is that I'm going to hate my department chair, even though I like him as a person and think he's a good chair, for all intents and purposes.

I need to figure out a productive way of relating to my department and the university.  I don't want to become one of those bitter academics like my disseration director, who moves every 5 years or so because she makes enemies and thrives on drama and rage.  I do not thrive on drama and rage.

I love my chosen profession.  I like many things about my particular job within the profession.  I would like to go back to being happy with the teaching and the writing and the dailiness of academe.  I saw two colleagues at the farmer's market the other day, and another one this morning (turns out his kid and LG are doing the same summer camp), and they were such nice out-of-the-office interchanges with people who care about me professionally if not personally.  But prolonging a tenure decision for  eighteen fucking months after I submitted my materials is making me a raving lunatic.  And I don't know what to do about it other than vent and have angry conversations in my head.  Grrr.

Domesticity

My mom was here for a long weekend, after returning LG.  In some respects, having another adult around makes things much easier, particularly having someone else share in the domestic work.  I could give LG a shower while she did the dishes, for instance.

We got a lot done in the yard; we bought 10 more bags of mulch, which my mom lugged to the backyard (they're really too heavy for me).  We ripped ivy off the house and did general weeding and cleanup (6 yard waste bags full).  My mom definitely did most of the work; between the pregnancy and pretty nasty environmental allergies, I really can't do that kind of work for more than an hour or so at a time.  What we accomplished in a weekend would have taken me probably a couple weeks to complete alone, a little bit at a time.  Still, I'm exhausted and sore.

And then there's the general straightening up around the house and cleaning the bathrooms and doing the dishes and all the stuff that makes up domestic life.  Sometimes I feel like I can get swallowed up in it.  Sometimes I make myself do just five minutes in the kitchen before I go to bed, because five is better than none.

Most things I love about being a single mother by choice.  Having to do ALL the housework and upkeep is not one of them.

Must get LG in bed.  Must do laundry.  Must sleep.

Small Good Things (16w4d)

1. Yoga.  I'm still going to my regular yoga class, but the instructor is having me modify (or not do) certain poses, as she also teaches a prenatal class (that unfortunately doesn't fit my schedule).  I'm also trying to do a prenatal yoga video at home.  I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up--by ~26 weeks with LG my legs/hips hurt so badly that I didn't do anything physical beyond necessary walking--but for now, it's a good thing indeed.
2. It's been mighty quiet without LG's constant singing/chattering.  That was nice.  And now it's time for her to come home.  It's lonely without her.
3. The baby's really moving.  I mean I felt movement early (10 weeks?) but that felt like a small round weight rolling around in my uterus and flipping over occasionally.  These movements are smaller and jerkier, probably feet, tapping me from within.  It's fun.
4. I've been keeping up with my summer writing plan, doing about 1000 new words most days.  Soon I'm going to have to clean up the chapter and organize it, but at least I've got the daily writing habit back.
5. Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  I'm not sure if it's a coincidence, but I've been sleeping 1.5-3 hours longer with LG gone.  And still yawning as I write this.  Sleep is good.

The Interlude

So as I mentioned, I've been incredibly emotional, with snippets from conversations with Dr. Gorgeous on instant playback in my head.  I'm not sure what that's about, but I suspect it's linked to the LONG gap between OB appointments.  Because of the sac issue--and seeing four different doctors at four different clinics for early pregnancy care--until now the longest I've gone between visits is two weeks.  But that also meant I'm "off" a usual OB schedule (I'm not having a 16 week appointment, having gone in at 14) and the next time I see my doctor will be at 19w5d, for the anatomy scan.  That's 5.5 weeks between appointments, and 7.5 from my last ultrasound.  The nurse said I'm welcome to come in for a heartbeat check anytime, but that seems sort of pointless since I have a doppler.  So unless something really freaky happens, like the contractions start up again full speed or I have an amniotic fluid leak scare (which is how I ended up learning LG was a girl at barely 17 weeks) I just have to be okay assuming everything's okay in my uterus.  (What, was that laughter?)

I find myself in the interlude of the second trimester, when, at least according to my OB, things rarely go wrong (rarely, I guess, being a comparative number between number of first trimester losses and third trimester mishaps).  I wait, then, more or less pretending to be a normal pregnant woman, gaining weight, doing prenatal yoga, until 28 weeks rolls around, at which point I get to be a high risk patient with heavy duty monitoring.  I'd really like to enjoy this time.  But I'm just waiting for the next bad thing to happen...

Home Again Home Again

Well, I've returned from my mom's place, sans LG, who will be coming back probably on Thursday.  It was a good trip, though emotionally rather strange, as the pregnancy is both physically obvious and the thing that everyone (except my mother) wanted to talk about.  And I ended up in another crying fit during the 4.5 hr drive home, because what else is there to do when one is alone in a car other than think and cry.  I don't know why but for some reason I've been thinking a lot about transfer day, like I'm still stuck there, not possibly believing I could get a baby out of this, remembering the image of Dr. Gorgeous handing me a prescription for extra valium and ordering me to rest and eat something decadent.  And here I am, 16 weeks pregnant, and still shocked that I'm not spending another summer driving to the clinic (I haven't been there in 7 weeks!!!!).

There are other things to write about, I suppose, like how I ate horribly and ended up with both a headache and digestive, ahem, disturbances.  Which mostly reveals just how much I do watch what I eat (still) when I'm in control of my own environment.  Or how I made it without using the doppler all weekend, and the baby's movements are changing from the whole body rolling (or whatever it's doing in there) to things that are more subtle and what other people talk about, like being tickled from the inside.

Now I've got to eat some more and get writing, as I have four hours before I have to show up for jury duty (don't get me started on that one; this is the 6th time in my life I've been called for jury duty, though no one in their right mind would want me as a juror, as my father is a lawyer and my sister was involved in a big lawsuit, and I have OPINIONS like people should not carry guns and suing for damages is fucking stupid, but I digress).  So hopefully I'll write another post before LG comes home, when I'm not crashed out in front of the TV.  I am just so tired... 

Bookkeeping

• I turned in grades for spring semester four weeks ago.  Since then, I have read (a couple novels, a couple collections of poems, random critical works), completed and submitted an article (long overdue), started the first chapter in my new manuscript (I'm writing 750-1000 words daily).
• I have baked (3 dozen muffins, 1 cake) and cooked all sorts of things (hummus, this weird chickpea and spinach thing LG likes).
• I have done some yard work (mowing the lawn, which takes even wimpy little me five minutes with a push mower; weeding; scattering 3 bags of mulch [there are 7 more stacked up and that will cover only half the backyard, if I'm lucky]).
• I have watched a decent amount of television in the evenings (Nurse Jackie, So You Think You Can Dance [have I mentioned I was, briefly, a dance minor in college?])
• I have read probably too much online about fetal development, oligohydramnios, and recent discussions of antiphospholipid antibody syndrome.
• I have gone to the public library or the university library almost daily, mostly because LG reads about a book per day.
• I have booked a hotel room for LG and me for some Beachy Goodness Within Driving Distance at the end of June.

That all seems reasonable.  Probably more than I have accomplished during the summers of 2009 and 2010, which were largely taken up by pregnancy loss, depression, and IVF.  My therapist has declared me okay, and frankly I'd agree with her.  And yet, I'm starting to feel the weight of all the things undone, that if they don't get done NOW--like going through the Dresser of Kid Clothes and paying various people to do various things to my house [roof, foundation repair, painting, blah blah]--they won't get done ever.  Which I know is slightly ridiculous, but I do feel like I didn't have my shit back together post-baby until LG was four.

And yet I've also worked so hard to get here, and still feel that this pregnancy is so tentative, that really all I want to do is lounge around and rub my belly and otherwise do the important stuff (taking care of LG, getting this book written) and let everything else fall by the wayside.  Which might mean our house is a little dustier than usual.

We're off to see my mom tomorrow, and the plan is that I return without LG on Monday and then she'll be returned to me on Wed or Thurs.  And then summer really begins.

For those of you who are academic types, what do your summers look like?

In Which Gwinne Wishes She Had Central Air

Can I just say holy shit, it's hot.

People keep making comments about how horrible it is to be pregnant in the summer.  Pregnant or not, it's horrible being without air conditioning on a day like today.  Our house started off at 76 degrees this morning and is now up to 82.  I can't even fathom tomorrow.

The cats are crashed out on the floor and LG is sleeping in her underwear.

The good thing is I can usually count the number of days that get over 90 on my own hands.

I think I need a cold shower.  And a popsicle.

Yawn

I want to preface this with the caveat that I'm not complaining.  I mean, I would happily accept any pregnancy sign or symptom that comes my way.  I want to be pregnant.  I like being pregnant.  I am endlessly amused by what the body does when it is pregnant. 

But, damn, am I tired.  Maybe this weekend was too much.  Maybe it's the heat.  But it's not like I have a strenuous job--I sit at a desk and type, and frankly I can do that in my bed if I need to--and it's not yet 9:30 and if I were capable of napping I would be doing so. 

Must put more words on paper.

Yawn.

Being Out

I expect by Monday anyone remotely invested in department gossip will know about my "condition."  I told my chair and Bitter Senior Colleague (BSC) yesterday.  My chair will tell the associate chair, who does scheduling.  And tomorrow I'm planning on telling another senior colleague, as we're having her over for brunch.  Gulp.

BSC was shocked but seemed happy for me.  Apparently she was worried that all the tenure drama was affecting me (umm, it was) as she said I looked completely sick and emaciated back at the end of March (well, not sleeping, worried about losing a pregnancy, worried about losing a job, being 97 pounds will do that).  My chair said he thought I was coming in to tell him either I had a lawyer or I was quitting.  Umm, not today.  He's also happy for me, but I am less than pleased with his plan for me, which involves doing some kind of service (like observing grad students teach) from March-May 2012.  I know for a fact that BPF did nothing on campus when she was on leave after giving birth, except showing up for an occasional meeting.

So I'm out.  Which is really weird, because I don't fully believe it will result in an actual baby.  I gave BSC the whole vanishing twin/small sac/high risk background, but not my chair.  He has visions of me laying around with my feet up finishing my book manuscript in the fall.  (I hope he's right). 

At least now if I happen to go into work I won't have to suck in my gut and/or put my bag in front of my waist.

Are you bored yet?

An acquaintance of mine, pregnant with her second child, said the experience was boring.  I guess that's easy to say when you get pregnant easily and have an easy pregnancy.  I'm anything but bored.

But I feel like I'm going to become a very boring blogger.  I mean, what do I have to say?

Today I woke up, got LG out of bed and proceeded with the whole domestic morning rituals.  Came home from the bus stop, ate some oatmeal with bananas, walnuts, and maple syrup; orange juice and pills, decaf chai.  Listened to the baby's heartbeat; low 150s.  Wrote until I couldn't think straight; read a couple essays I need to for this chapter; took a shower; wrote another 500 words or so.  Made lunch, which involved chasing IVF Kitten off the counter multiple times (typical).  Walked to the coffee shop; drank decaf and read some more.  Picked up a few groceries; picked up LG from the bus stop.  Made dinner, which involved chasing IVF Kitten off the counter again; little fucker actually ate yellow squash he filched from the serving bowl.  Crashed on the couch while LG played with Legos; assisted in the production of a Lego garage for a large Lego vehicle.  Gave LG a shower, which brings us up to about 5 minutes ago.  Soon I'll tuck her in, put on my pajamas, and probably read some more.  And eat something else.  Because, well, I'm growing a person and getting larger by the minute.

But, really, if this is boring, I'll take it.  After two and a half years of melodrama, I could use a change of pace.  And a nap.

A Bit of Levity While I Can't Sleep

LG decided that she should make up a list of baby names last night.  I told her that's fine, as long as she understands that in the end I get to pick the name, and it might not come from her list.

I should have remembered that LG wanted to name our cat Blockbuster.

Some of her favorites:  Lulu, Candy, Bambi, Bob Smith (not just Bob), Wycki.  And she thinks Doodle Noodle would make a very good nickname, or Splish Splash in the Bath.

Yeah.