Some weeks blow

This hasn't been the best week.

My OB is leaving. For good. This week. I have mixed feelings. I don’t like her has much as I liked Dr. L who held my hand through infertility and saw me through my pregnancy with E (she left last summer to return to her home state). I knew that Dr. T was leaving as far back as January, but she assured me that I would be “in good hands” for the final weeks of my pregnancy and I decided not to find a new practice. Big mistake. My last appointment with her was Thursday and she once again assured me that the OB who is replacing her is great and will do a good job. However, when I went to check out and make my 37 week appointment with the new OB, the scheduler said, “Oh, Dr. S doesn’t start until August 15. You’ll have to see someone else until then.” Then she informed me that no one was available next week.

When I protested, the scheduler found a spot for me for next Friday afternoon with Dr. A, who I have not yet met. He is fresh out of medical school and is not even board certified. I’m mortified. And the week after? I’ll see whoever can take me. I don’t really like being without an assigned doctor right now. I have no idea who to call with questions. No one knows my medical history. This is NOT how I planned to finish out my pregnancy.

It doesn’t help that the other doctors in the practice are all men. First, I prefer a female OB who has had children. If I say, “I feel like this child is going to fall out of my butt,” I want my doctor to nod empathetically and say, “Oh yes, that rectal pressure is something, isn’t it?!” rather than referring me to the nearest psychologist. Second, if I have an embarrassing question, “I am suddenly horny/frigid/purple” I want to be able to ask it without having to look at the floor. Finally, I’m having pelvic exams each week at this point. I find that excruciating enough once a year with a female OB/GYN. I’m going to need prenatal Valium for this.

As I was learning that this was my last appointment with Dr. T, I learned that I have a UTI. The routine urine dip revealed this and, looking back, it makes sense. I had blamed my extreme fatigue, round the clock weeing, and killer low back pain on the baby (sorry baby!). I’m glad it’s being treated, but it hasn’t made my week any better. I’m somewhat disappointed that the antibiotic has not turned my urine bright yellow/orange as promised by the pharmacist. I don’t know why the promise of neon pee excited me, but it did. Maybe I'm just perverse.

We’ve also had a time with E this week. After seven ear infections and a slightly abnormal hearing test, E had tubes placed in her ears yesterday. This is good news, really. I think we will be happy to have the tubes. However, she is one pissed-off little kid right now. It started off well enough. The anesthesiologist brought in a cocktail of Tylenol and Versed, which made E the most entertaining 22-month old on the planet. She’s going to be a fun drunk one day, I’m afraid. We were charmed.

Of course all good things must come to an end, and for us that end came quickly, when E woke in the recovery area. How a child goes from drunken charmer to Mr. Hyde in the course of 15 minutes, I do not know. But I can report that she cried and screamed for hours yesterday. We figured she would be better today, but she woke up with the sniffles and was running a fever of 102 by this afternoon. Now her ears hurt AND she is blowing snot bubbles. It isn’t good. I’m worried for her and will take her to our pediatrician in the morning if this continues. My fear is that the new tubes are blocked and are not doing their job. It doesn’t seem like a cold should cause a high fever.

Finally, there was the lactation class that wasn't. I decided that in order to get better treatment/ more attention from the lactation consultants, that I would sign up for a breastfeeding class this time. I had supply issues when E was born that were probably related to my high blood pressure so I want to be proactive this time. I showed up in room 336 of the main hospital this morning as instructed. I was the only one there. After some investigation, it turns out that the idiot scheduler put me in a class that doesn’t meet until the last Saturday of AUGUST--after the baby is born. The class that met this month met two days ago on Thursday evening. I was free Thursday. Maybe I’m just not supposed to breastfeed.

I guess I’m totally hormonal because I started bawling the moment I set foot out of the hospital. That’s just the kind of week it has been. Next week will be better, right?

Shhh. . . Don't tell my husband

I want another baby after this one.

There is no rational reason for this. In fact there are many reasons to argue against it.

• This pregnancy has been difficult physically.
• I've worried from the moment the second pink line appeared on the stick.
• Being a good mom to a toddler and being pregnant have been tough.
• We don't have the space for any more children.
• We don't have enough money to raise another.
• Have you seen the projections for the cost of college by the time these two are ready?
• Four years of changing diapers is probably quite enough.
• We will be in our sixties by the time we launch the two we have.
• My FSH makes another child unlikely.

But still, there is a sense of sadness as I approach the end of this pregnancy. I don't want to believe that this is it. That we are done.

Where does this desire for children come from anyway? Is it hardwired? Do men have it? Does the sadness of having closed the door ever go away?

The Pregnancy Waddle

I was always told that the waddle was from a combination of the baby's position and the relaxation of the pelvis. Today, as I wiped away drops of sweat on my way into Costco I suddenly realized that this is bunk.
My waddle? I don't like the sensation of my very fat, maternal thighs rubbing together.

35 weeks!

I am 35 weeks today. Hooray! Only two more weeks until I'm term. At last week's appointment my OB predicted I won't go a full 40 weeks. That both terrifies me and excites me.

Terrifies me because if I were to go into labor tomorrow, we would not quite be prepared. There is no nursery. While I know we only need a bassinet, some pampers, a stack of onesies, and some formula in case my milk fails to come in again, a little more preparation would be good. Also, I know that babies born after 35 weeks tend to do very well, but I think they should bake a little longer. Jaundice, respiratory distress and feeding issues are still concerns.

Excites me because I am tired of being pregnant. I feel huge. My thighs are alarmingly fat. I'm starting to get sausage toes. The baby has a foot jammed up under my rib cage and (damn!) it hurts. I'm also getting rammed in the cervix on a regular basis. Think of French soccer hero Zidane's head-butt of his Italian opponent and you may get the picture. Then, there are the hemorrhoids. They are so bad that sitting down is a little painful. My back hurts. My calves seize up in middle-of-the-night-what-the-hell-is-going-on cramps. The kicker is that I am contracting at least every 10 minutes and sometimes as frequently as every 3-5 minutes. It hasn't progressed to real labor, but it is a nuisance at best and painful at worst. I'm up at this very late hour because of the contractions.

Still, I am grateful to be pregnant, I truly am. With my FSH in the stratosphere, the thyroid and autoimmune issues, this baby is a miracle in so many ways.

34 weeks 5 days

A quick recap of the last several weeks:

• I ended up in labor and delivery at 32 weeks because of contractions and bleeding. The doctors stopped the contractions with terbutaline and decided that the bleeding was just a pesky cervical polyp.
• The real story with the hospital adventure is J's story. E had to stay home for a few days because she had a reaction to Omnicef, the antibiotic prescribed for her most recent ear infection. The reaction consisted mainly of horrible diarrhea and an appalling diaper rash. While I was getting an IV and shot of terbutaline, J took her to the hospital cafeteria and attempted to keep her busy. At some point he noticed the oozing brown stain on her shorts and realized that she had a blowout diaper. He took her to the men's room to change her and to attempt to wash her shorts. While he was busy trying to wash poo from shorts, he noticed that E had wandered over to a urinal and was exploring its basin with her bare hands. When he picked me up, he was one stressed out man.
• The contractions returned three hours after I was released from labor and delivery. Apparently, I have an irritable uterus, because I contract about every 5-10 minutes. It is only just now starting to have any effect on my cervix. My OB said she thinks I'll make it to 37 weeks, but doesn't see me going 40. Of course, Lindy, has been contracting like this since early in the third trimester and is nearing 40 weeks, so who knows. I can't imagine continuing like this for another five weeks. It hurts, man.
• E is doing well in daycare. She has only had one daycare illness, a cold, and seems happy. I like her teachers and have been happy with the director and staff.
• Since I could possibly deliver early, I've focused on getting prepped for the baby this weekend. Went shopping for new onesies, bought pacifiers, new nipples for the bottles, have located the bassinet and bassinet sheets, found the sling, and looked into My Brest Friend. Even though I am exhausted, my goal is to make sure that the house is semi-neat before going to bed every evening, just in case I have to rush to the hospital.
• We are doing a very careful furniture swap this Wednesday. J will take the guestroom (nursery-to-be) furniture and our queen-sized bed to his parents who are rumoured to be building a mountain house. I ordered a king-sized platform bed and very expensive mattress. The mattress should arrive on Wednesday and the bed will come sometime in the next week. J has been sleeping in the guestroom for a while because I am pretty obnoxious with my nest of pillows, pregnancy snoring, and many trips to the loo. Hoping the extra space on the new bed will help things because we won't have an extra bed for long.
• I've done nearly nothing on the text. I had a coauthor who backed out because the publisher was impossible to work with. To be honest, the project totally overwhelms me and I resent the time it takes away from nesting. And napping.
• I've become a LOST addict. We rented season one and now I am a big enough nerd that I know season two will be released on September 5.
• No signs of preeclampsia yet!

Ladies and Gentlemen. . . We Have Daycare

We've been on waiting lists for daycare for about a year. Apparently, I should have sign ed E up as soon as J made his "donation" at the clinic. It just would have been easier.

Actually, to be completely honest, I had control issues AND I bought into the "daycare bad, mom's care good" rhetoric hook line and sinker.* What that has meant is a patchwork of sitters for the last 20 months. I have already exposed E to TEN caretakers. Let's review, shall we?

Spring 2005: We had the tag team of Nanny L and Nanny J. L did her best, but was a little cowed by our demanding three-month old. Just as L exited when E was 7 months did she seem to have it down. J was the oldest of 7 kids and was wonderful. Of course, she was scooped out from under us by a family in Park City, CO. We just couldn't compete.

Summer 2005: Disaster. Sitter D (I can't call her a nanny) had knee surgery after about a week on the job. Rehab meant she couldn't lift anything. Her friends S and C filled in, but it was no good and I was sitter-less by the first week of July.

Fall 2005: In August E started going to another mom's house. J was very nice and had a baby almost the same age. She was every bit the earth mother and could actually tie her baby on her back just like the native moms where she had served in the Peace Corps. J was a little appalled at my willingness to let E cry it out that first nap time, but trust me, she needed at least one baby to go to sleep. Her little girl had to be nursed and rocked down which was difficult with two in the house. Unfortunately, J seemed to have a latent case of postpartum depression and things went downhill quickly. We stopped going there by the end of October. I hear she has been accepted to a homeopathy program in the West and I wish her well.

October 2005-April 2006. We had Nanny J, Nanny M, and Nanny S. They started as friends who wanted to share the hours. In December, Nanny S assaulted Nanny M and went to jail for a night and was sentenced to community service and anger management. I kept her and fired Nanny M. It is hard to explain at this point, but it was the right call. Nanny J smelled vaguely of smoke, but was very sweet and was with us the longest. Being wives/ fiances of pro hockey players they are all gone for the off-season.

May 2006. Nanny A., a former student who did NOT write a horrible paper . She is quite good with E, but she is costing me dearly. Plus, she'll only be available a few months. Nanny A answered the phone today when the daycare center called so she knows this may be a short gig. Fortunately, I know someone who wants her half-time so she won't be unemployed for long.

Reasons I am excited about daycare:

• E will be around other children her age and older. Right now, her closest pal is 9 months younger and holding her back. OK, her friend isn't really holding her back, but she isn't quite a toddler yet and there are development differences.
• E will have to eat what they serve for lunch and snacks. She has morphed into the pickiest eater in the world so I'm hoping toddler peer pressure works wonders.
• I haven't been able to afford full-time nanny care so I am frequently frustrated by feeling behind on everything. My productivity may increase which will make me a more relaxed mama. At the very least, E will see fewer Elmo tapes because I won't be trying to answer email, return student messages, and do work while caring for her. Family time can be family time.
• I'm pregnant and exhausted. This is going to help.
• I'm tired of having people in my house every day. It's not that I plan to revert to total chaos and slobdom, but I feel the pressure to clean the house before the nannies arrive. Now, when there are days that I can't make the bed, clean the counters, sweep the kitchen floor, wipe down the sinks and hide whatever I don't want seen (umm. . Poise pads, Tucks, Maternity undergarments and HUGE utilitarian bras among other items) all by 8:30, it is OK. In fact, now I can take early walks with E before we start our day and clean when I get home from dropping her off.
• I can REALLY work from home. No sitter popping her head into the office to ask if it is OK to turn on the AC. No pounding on office door by E.

Reasons I am worried:

• I'm about to send my beautiful little girl out into the big, bad world.
• She is used to being home.
• Will she nap?
• What if peer pressure doesn't work? Will she starve at lunch?
• Will she feels abandoned?
• What if she is bullied?
• What if she is a bully?
• What if this leads to additional ear infections?
• What if I cry in front of her while dropping her off?
• What if this is a huge mistake?

Overall, I am cautiously optimistic. This center is my second choice mainly because I don't like the baby room (thinking ahead for little brother/sister). J is going to call our first choice tomorrow just to see if a miracle spot has opened. If not, we'll proceed with this center and hope for the best.

*I think this is true to an extent when the baby is very young, but mainly I think this is yet another way to control women and generate conflict and angst.

Eek! 100 days to go!

Turns out that 25w5d is the last day of triple digits. Tomorrow? Single digits. 99 days. Eek.

So much to do. So little time. Time to get serious. Where to start?

The nursery. The sad, sad truth is that we never quite finished the nursery for E. You see, we bought this house in June 2004 and needed to renovate. We did paint the nursery, purchase and assemble a crib, and get the dresser inside. However, we didn't get the bead-board up until she was a year old and we haven't really painted it. The closet door almost closes. We planned to hang Curious George prints, and I almost got them framed. Now we need to move E to a big girl bed in about two months. To do that, we have to acquire said bed, select linens, window treatments, and paint. Then we'll be able to finish painting the nursery. At last.

My text. Yes, it is still waiting. Yes, the publisher is still a bit much to handle. Yes, I'm still very much in avoidance mode. However, I have a coauthor now so I only have to finish three more chapters over the summer. Should be a piece of cake, right? Sure, if I find the discipline to make myself sit down with it. I am so good at finding other things to do. Like shopping. Pondering the meaning of the universe. Taking walks with my little girl. You know, not writing. Somehow, I need to force myself to finish this. I do not want the pesky publisher after me two weeks after I give birth.

The FROG. That is Finished Room Over Garage in real estate language. So what's up with my FROG. Well, it has become a storage facility. There are boxes of bamboo flooring stacked in a corner. There are boxes that have not been opened since we moved two years ago. There are boxes that may not have been opened since we moved to Charleston almost eight years ago. There is baby equipment. Old computers (anyone in the market for super-speedy 486?). I get a headache thinking of what it will take to get this in order. Yet I know that if we are to have visitors, they will need a place to stay. So it is on the list.

The list is longer, but a certain somebody is kicking my bladder and the day is getting old. I think I'll sleep on what I have.

More

I haven’t been writing too much lately, and we have my students to thank for it. They sucked the life out of me this semester. As if bitching, whining, moaning and practically camping in my office weren’t enough, they wrote horrible papers. Horrible. In the end, I saved my sanity by speed grading.

Speed grading is similar to the old technique of throwing the papers down a flight of stairs and assigning grades according to the piles in which they land. First, I checked whether they had followed formatting directions. Title? Check. Name on title page? Check. ASA citation style and references? Check. Black ink? Check. If they neglected to follow directions, I took at least ten points off for each infraction. You might be surprised by how many lost points this way. (Q: Who turns in a paper printed in red ink? A: The same student who thinks Glamour magazine is an academic source.) Next, I checked to make sure all the sections of the paper were present. Once again, I was shocked by how many students turned in incomplete papers. Finally, I looked at content. It was painful, but I just gave points based on the general quality. Categories included sucks-but-has-its- moments, sucks-bad, and sucks-so-bad-I-am–surprised-you-are-still-in-college. The good news is that I am done. No more students until Fall 2007. I can live with that. Grading bad papers is a bit like childbirth. You forget how awful it was until the next time.

So I am done with school and working through my bitterness. It helps that the provost signed off on my maternity leave and my proposal for modified activities this fall. This was not a certainty because she can be an asshole depending on when paperwork makes it to her. For instance, she signed off on my leave, but denied sabbatical pay for my chair the next day.

What else is happening? I’m growing. It is 25 weeks and four days. The baby has a chance of surviving if born now. Not that I want that, but with my anxiety over this, it seems like I may be able to take a deep breath soon. Maybe.

Here are a few observations about pregnancy a second time. I don’t know if this is normal or if it is just me, but I’ll share.

•More anxiety. Honestly, this is probably pathological at this time. But considering the pronouncements of Dr. Negative and Nurse Joy(less), is it any wonder that I’m a bit of a nutcase? I feel like this is our only shot. I worried while pregnant with E, but not like this. Today, for instance, I was frantically Googling to find out if occasional globs of discharge are OK. I think they are, but maybe not.

•More leg cramps. Which is why I am writing now. I woke up with a dreadful calf and foot cramp and could not fall asleep again. Leg cramps are just cruel. To go instantly from a sound and comfortable sleep to sudden state of alertness in which you quickly realize that your leg and foot are possessed.

•More of me. I’m a few pounds ahead of where I was with the last pregnancy. This is not a problem with my OB because I am in the healthy range for weight gain, but I have to go to the pool and the beach soon. I am not yet at the stage that people will so distracted by my large belly that they will fail to notice my now immense rear end and thighs.

•More fatigue. Well, I am hypothyroid, so that may be a factor. My endocrinologist raised my thyroid dose so I’m hopeful for a little more energy soon.

I am going to try and keep up with this blog a bit more. Thanks for those of you who posted about boys. While I still have fear of squirting, you helped. Really.

20 weeks and 1 day: Boy Fear

Today we had the big ultrasound. I believe they called it an anatomy check. We turned our heads to keep the gender a secret, but were treated to great images of the brain, heart, kidneys, spine, feet, fingers, legs, and arms. Baby's anatomy checks out. Which is good, of course.

So why am I feeling down? Can I blame my mother? Please?

She called tonight because J sent a couple of shots from the ultrasound. Sweet, sweet stuff. I picked up the phone to, " I think you are having a little boy. It just looks like a boy profile." (My mom doesn't waste much time on pleasantries. She goes straight to whatever is on her mind.)And my heart sank at her pronouncement because I thought the same thing when I was looking at the images. That this profile looks more masculine than Es profile. I've been in a funk ever since her call because I realize that I have a serious case of boy fear. Serious, serious boy fear. I had a touch of this when I was pregnant the first time, but it has grown. Perhaps I think my little girl is so perfect that I can't imagine what I will do with a boy.

Why am I scared of boys? Because they squirt. That is a biggie. Because they are full of energy. Because my friends with boys describe them as "wild ones." Because two of my friends who had boys after girls seem bemused by the whole thing. Because one told me that if she had her boy first she would have stopped there. Because they take longer to potty train. Because I grew up with brothers. Because I am a fearful wuss and the unknown unsettles me.

I am going to spend the next 20 weeks or so worried about this. But the good news is that I won't be worrying about chromosomal problems, and I won't be worrying about a cleft palate, club foot, or a heart or brain abnormality. And I do know that when this little baby emerges, I will think it is the most beautiful and perfect baby ever born regardless of whether it squirts.

Still, I could use a little reassurance here. Moms of boys, help me out here.

18 Weeks and 4 Days: No Rest for the Weary

Life goes on. And on. And on. And on. . .

• E has been sick since Wednesday with a flu-like virus. By flu-like, I mean she has many flu symptoms (horrible congestion, high fevers, a cough, and loose diapers) with a negative flu test. We've not gotten much sleep around here the last few days. I guess it is next to impossible to sleep when your nose is either running viciously, totally plugged up, or both. Poor E fell asleep on my chest this morning-- which I note only because this is something Miss Independent hasn't done since she was nine or ten months old. After her fever climbed back to over 102 degrees this afternoon, it was near normal this evening and she seemed more comfortable and happy. Perhaps that will translate to a better night.
• I'm knee deep in papers and projects at school. I have 41 students who are doing their senior projects under my direction. That might not sound like much, but I have to be part task master, part counselor, and part trouble-shooter. Despite being seniors, many have serious writing deficiencies so I have spent a great deal of time line-editing their drafts.
• I made a strategic mistake of introducing my publisher to a possible coauthor and she is pushing, really pushing, for us to renegotiate the contract NOW. This although I clearly told her I am too busy to work out a new flow until the semester ends. I hate her. She is the devil. She sent a horrible email basically saying that there was not time to wait on me and that we can just renegotiate my royalties later. Screw that. I have to pull P, the possible coauthor aside this week and share my feelings about this, because I think he is about to get steamrolled.
• The amnio was fine. We asked that the geneticist not report the gender. Now, somewhere in the bowels of university's medical information system, there is a lab report with that information. Hypothetically, it would be possible for a labor and delivery nurse to pull up that lab report and blow the news five hours before the birth. Hypothetically, that nurse might be named Addy. But, I'm hopeful we can keep it a secret this time.
• Despite the nice amnio, I remain fearful, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. The baby's heart rate has dropped a bit over the last week and that is making me crazy although I know this is probably normal. I'm having a lot of crampy lower back pain which makes me more than a little nervous even though I know it is probably kidney stone. Braxton Hicks have already started. Wouldn't it be nice if we could take a safe little anti-anxiety pill during pregnancy? A category A prenatal Valium. The market would be huge.
• My house is dirty. I don't mean messy. I mean dirty. As in floors need vacuuming, kitchen needs to be mopped, and dust-bunnies under major furniture need to be eradicated. Tomorrow, I am going to get J to bundle E up and get her out in the fresh air long enough for me to run the vacuum (of which she is deathly afraid) and mop the floors.
• I find myself craving a vacation. I didn't know how badly I needed one until we spent two nights away over my Spring Break. This was our first outing as a family that didn't involve coordinating with other family members or friends. It was wonderful to be away sans schedule, sans obligations, sans dogs, sans in-laws, sans squabbling friends. Now I want another week away. That would give us time to get E adjusted to being elsewhere and give us time to really let our hair down.

13 week and 5 days. Dragging along.

I wish I could say this pregnancy is going quickly, but it isn't. I had expected to be able to post the results of my CVS by now, but the procedure had to be halted because my cervix and uterus are, for lack of a better descriptive, deflicted. I have a short (or was it long?) and crooked cervix, a tipped uterus, and a cervical polyp. I feel so special. Not. Actually, I was so traumatized by the procedure that it has taken me three weeks to write about it.

I bled. I passed clots. I was told the bleeding, clotting and subsequent spotting were due to the polyp and an "irritated" cervix. I'll have to say that my cervix was not irritated, it was pissed. Really, really pissed. And your cervix would be likewise unhappy if someone attached the clamp below (a tenaculum) to it and then tried to snake a catheter up it. A bit of advice: If you ever see one of these puppies coming at your cervix, run away. Fast. Don't say I didn't warn you. Honestly, this was probably the most uncomfortable procedure I have ever had.



This leaves me in a funk. I had hoped by now to have questions of genetic abnormalities answered and any tough decisions behind me. We've rescheduled an amnio for March 1, but we won't have the results until I am 17 weeks. At age 37 there is a 1.5% chance of chromosomal abnormalities. I realize this leaves us with a 98.5% chance of the baby being fine. But still. It would have been nice to know sooner.

Questions about baby's health are just part of my pregnancy funk. Anxiety about miscarrying has also contributed to my blues. I've had cramping on and off since I tested BFP. I haven't had any more bleeding, but the cramping can be intense at times. Rationally, I realize that it is probably just due to the stretching and growing going on down there, but it is worrisome. I think it was gone by this point when I was pregnant with E. Maybe not, but if I did, I am now blocking it out.

Finally, I have so much fear. This is probably compounded by good old fashioned Catholic guilt. I have the gnawing sense that I got here by cheating. My dear cyber friend, Chris, is being put through hell by her REs, others are dealing with too many losses, and here I am on a natural cycle of all things. I feel like the other shoe may drop at any moment.

On the bright side, I have seen the baby at each visit. I've seen the baby at 7 weeks, at 9 weeks, at 10 weeks, at 11 weeks and at 13 weeks. And the little bean is beautiful. Just like its big sister.

For J, who really deserves higher than a C-

I know you read this. Happy Anniversary and Happy Valentine's Day. I love you because:

• You always love me back.
• You are a better father than I could have hoped for.
• You always know how to make me laugh.
• You are excited about another baby.
• You aren't afraid of a pile of laundry.
• You aren't afraid of Palmetto bugs.
• You are afraid of miscarriage and something happening to the baby.
• You share my political views.
• You tolerate my parents.
• You are a good uncle.
• You are my comfort.

Does it seem like 13 years? Already? I hope we have 50 more.

Pregancy 2.0

I have shamefully ripped off the title for this post from Lindy. Sorry, Lindy. I am feeling so very uncreative tonight.

I know this post is long overdue, but the news is good so far. I visited my regular OB on the 20th and was able to see the baby again. The baby had grown appropriately and had a nice heartbeat. My OB proclaimed it a "healthy pregnancy" thus far. She also arranged for me to have CVS this week which is the earliest form of genetic screening available to me. With Baby E, I waited for amniocentesis which was done at 16 weeks. This time, I think we are willing to trade the slightly higher risk of miscarriage for the earlier reassurance (or not) of CVS. The test can detect the trisomies and a range of other diseases, but it cannot detect neural tube defects. Later blood tests and later ultrasounds can detect these.

Unlike my first pregnancy, J did not accompany me to the OB appointment. We knew he would likely miss another ultrasound, but we were both OK with it. Because he is an experienced expectant father, he couldn't think of any questions for the doctor. The solo first appointment made me ponder what else is different this pregnancy. Here is what I have come up with so far:

• Fatigue. I know I was tired with Baby E, but I am exhausted this time around. I don't know if it is the difference between 35 and 37 or just the added bonus of caring for a toddler and trying to keep the house in order, but I am dragging. When does that second trimester wave of energy hit?
• Feeling less special. I don't want to give J a hard time, but he earns a C- so far on the expectant dad bit. I am, of course, grading him against his prior performance. He was so sweet and attentive when I was pregnant with E. This time, I think he forgets I am gestating. At least he forgets that gestating is WORK. Hard, hard work. Baby E has had a rough sleep week with night waking, early morning wake ups and short naps. Last Wednesday morning, I started crying out of shear fatigue and frustration and J snapped, "Well, I'm tired, too." Damn.
• Showing, but not showing. I have hit the awkward clothing stage much earlier this time. My body hasn't taken that pregnancy shape yet. My regular clothes are a bit too tight, but maternity wear looks ridiculous. Sadly, I just look bloated and thick. Tonight I ordered some transitional pants and skirts from Old Navy. They are supposed to have hidden elastic bands and I hope they arrive soon.
• Gas and constipation. Yes, this is too much information, but good grief, what is up with this? I know I wasn't this bloated with E, and I am sure the constipation started much later.
• Baby Beat is a wonderful thing. I am so glad that we ordered the doppler. I had it last time, too, but this time, it has kept me grounded. The baby can be hard to find, but we've always found the heartbeat. Lovely, lovely sound.

Two a.m. and I am wide-awake

It is one of those nights. It was all I could do to stay awake until 10:00 when I surrendered and went to bed. So what am I doing wide-awake? I’m too tired to attempt a coherent narrative so here is a bullet update of my life since I last posted.

• Nurse Joy kissed me. I didn’t see it coming or I would have ducked. Or run. It happened after my second ultrasound last Friday. The scan went well. We saw four limbs (pods, really), a strong heartbeat, and a residual tail (which made me wonder if I am bearing a tadpole). Dr. Negative had a medical student come and meet us and told her, “Here is why we don’t say 0% chance of conceiving to high FSH women.” I had to be a smart-ass and say, “No, they give us so much hope with that less than 1% forecast.” Dr. Negative said I should stay on the progesterone for another week and released me to my OB. Ultrasound in hand, I went to the window to pay for the visit and Nurse Joy came running up and planted one on my cheek. BLECK!

• My toddler may have a split personality. One day, she is all sunshine; smiling, laughing, affectionate, trying all her baby signs, fun. The next, she is stormy weather; whining, crying, screaming, not even attempting to communicate, anti-fun. We are sharing the sitters with another family three days a week. Their little girl EJ is six months old and is a good baby. My E seems at times to be thrilled with the baby, cooing at her, smiling and patting her back “gently.” Other times, she seems insanely jealous. Last week she had a tantrum. Yesterday she chomped on the sitter’s leg as the sitter attended to the baby. Sitter wants detailed instructions on how to handle this, but to be honest, I have no idea what to tell her. Obviously, I want to discourage this behavior, but I’m not entirely certain of what to do.

• I can’t get rid of this book contract. I told my publisher about the pregnancy hoping they might drop me, but they are making accommodations and being nicer than usual. I guess the only solution is to buckle down and get the whole thing written pronto because I do not want this hanging over my head after the baby comes. I will never do another text. Too boring. Too tedious.

•J finally got a CPAP machine. He has sleep apnea and we hadn’t slept in the same room in about a year. I just couldn’t sleep through that anymore and he could sleep through my kicking him, poking him and complaining. But now he has the machine and it is wonderful. He looks like the elephant man getting geared up, but there is virtually no noise. We are back in the same room, which is an adjustment. Normally, if I were up in middle of the night I would read in bed, but it seems impolite to turn on the lights when he is sleeping soundly. Also, I think we need a larger bed. We both learned to take up more space while sleeping apart so we are having some small skirmishes over whose half of the bed we are on.

• We roadtripped and told our families about the pregnancy this weekend. We told J’s family at breakfast by adding ultrasound photos to E’s little scrapbook. She pulled the scrapbook out of her pack and we told her to show her grandparents her pictures. When she got to the last page we said, “And E is going to be a big sister.” We told my family at my nephew’s 5th birthday dinner. We made a gift certificate that said, “The bearer of this certificate is entitled to one cousin redeemable on or about August 22, 2006.” We brought the house down.

• I am trying to work on my worry. I am still constantly stressed about the what ifs of early pregnancy, but I’m trying to focus on the good news and stay positive. I should get a BabyBeat heart monitor in the mail tomorrow. I’ll try to remind myself that nine weeks may be too early to find a heartbeat with it, but I know we’ll try.

• My classes are going well. I have one bozo in my social issues class who believes we should invade North Korea and “take care of things.” He also thinks the homeless guy who was beaten to death in Florida deserved it because he was bugging people by panhandling. Fortunately, the other students seem like a good bunch. My two quantitative practicum sections are off to a good start.

Night!

Chronicles of Nannia

I returned to work one year ago this week when Baby E was three months old. I told myself that I was lucky to have been able to be home for three months. I told myself that E was lucky to be able to stay home with sitters. I told myself we would all survive. I dressed carefully that first day-- pressed khakis, black shirt, coordinating jewelry, and matching bag and shoes-- I thought it would give me confidence to keep going. As I was walking out the door, I embraced E one last time before I left maternity leave and joined the legions of working moms.* She promptly spit up all over me.

I had to make a quick change into an outfit that left me feeling less together and more bereft. I cried on my way to the campus and looked terrible by the time for my first class. Is there a moral to this story? I can’t think of one. I think, instead, that it served as an omen of things to come. My plans, however carefully laid, never seem to come to fruition when it comes to childcare. It is as if I am off from the rest of the band by a half beat. I think other women manage this better than me and I am at a loss as to how I went so wrong.

You’ll probably want to nominate me for the worst mom EVER award when you hear this: Over the last year, Baby E has had nine caretakers. That is right. Nine caretakers in 12 months. Bad mommy. Bad.

Here is the list:

Nanny L (four months): An undergraduate who watched Baby E two days a week last spring. She wasn’t a natural, but she only missed one day due to illness and she tried her best. Baby E wouldn’t nap for Nanny L (who was incapable of letting her fuss), but this really seems like a small issue now. Nanny L left after final exams.

Nanny J (Three months): The best. She was here until last May when she got nanny position in Colorado. The oldest of seven children, she was a natural. She sat for us 2-3 days a week in the spring. I would have kept her forever, but some rich Winter Park family can pay her more.

D (Two-three weeks): Notice I don’t call her a nanny. She started the job and then told me that she needed knee surgery and wouldn’t be able to lift the baby “for a while.” She went home to recover and never came back.

S (Eight weeks): This is one of D’s friends. She did very well with E, but could only sit for a month.

C (Eight weeks): Another friend of D. Pretty good with the baby, but she left after the first summer session.

Mommy J (Three months): A mom with a baby two months younger than E. An attachment parent.** I thought the attachment parent thing was a huge plus because E would get attention and not be lefy to cry, but it turned out that watching two children was too difficult and stressful. Mommy J was still waking four times a night to nurse and was completely exhausted. She couldn’t get her daughter to nap during the day without lying down with her, which was a problem with a second baby in the house. E started coming home dirty, stressed, and unhappy. We ended that in October. Mommy J is currently seeking employment outside the home.

Nanny M (Two months): Found her on Craig’s List. I didn’t get a good or bad gut feeling about her, but her references were excellent. She didn’t want to work fulltime so she brought her (then) friends Nanny S and Nanny J on board. I fired Nanny M two weeks ago after coming home early and discovering that she wasn’t being truthful.

Nanny S (Two months and counting): Almost fired her when she went to jail for slugging Nanny M, but I’m glad I gave her another try.

Nanny J2 (Two months and counting): Right now, I am not pleased with her but I’m trying to be understanding because I need her. She called today to say that she is A) Stuck in the Midwest with a useless Independence Air*** ticket and is B) “really sick”. Nanny J2 is supposed to be sitting this entire week because Nanny S has her parents in town. However, we are scrambling again because if she is still sick when she finds a return flight on another carrier, I don’t want her infecting Baby E who is recovering from a bad cold and ear infection. So J is checking his schedule, I’m trying to figure out exactly how much time I have between my 10:40 and 4:00 Tuesday classes.

You’ll notice that there are no daycares in this scenario. That is because when I was pregnant the first time and idealistic, I thought that daycares were impersonal and not good enough for my baby. I did not investigate centers. I did not sign Baby E up. I’ve changed my mind on daycare. I am still wary of most centers and my children will never go to Kisti’z Krazy Kidz Kottage, but I see advantages to daycare now. First, while I know daycares have turnover, I don’t think they can top my turnover rate. Second, there is more socialization at daycare. E is an extremely outgoing child so this would be good for her, I think. Third, there would be more oversight. No more coming home early to discover a nanny behaving badly. Forth, there would be a backup system. If one caregiver were ill, there would be another. Finally, the cost would be less of a financial burden. Not that I would let econ0mics alone determine childcare arrangements, but it says something that we spend more on nanny pay than we do on our house payment. We need to be saving.

Baby E is on the waiting lists at two good centers (the only two I could stomach) and it looks like we should have a spot this summer. I’ve already signed little brother or sister up for next January. I know I’ll have second thoughts, but I’ll try to remember the Chronicles of Nannia and go through with it.


*What does this mean, anyway? I worked my ass off those first few months.

**I’m not an attachment parent myself as I am very much into gentle scheduling and very much not into co-sleeping, but I don’t have a problem with it. I think a good parent is one who is at ease with her parenting philosophy of choice.

***How could she be unaware that they were no longer flying? Have I really hired someone who does not read a newspaper, listen to the radio, or have any idea of what is going on in national, regional or local news?

Happy New Year

Peace, prosperity and happiness to you. May your fondest wishes come true this year.

Now can someone please tell my pyromaniac, firework-obsessed neighbors enough already?

6w3d and 160 bpm

Just a quick update to say I am measuring in the target range and the heart rate was strong. Dr. Negative morphed into Dr. Positive today. He has dropped my chances of miscarriage to less than 5 %. Nurse Joy was not in the vicinity so it was a good day all around. We have one more ultrasound with Dr. Negative in two weeks and then I will be released to my OB.

Can I exhale now?

Ultrasound is tomorrow morning

Nerves. I have a case of them and it isn't pretty. I frequent several boards and have been witness to a rash of recent miscarriages. The saddest of these boards is the high FSH pregnancy board. The women who make it that far have overcome great odds and for a pregnancy to fail just seems colossally unfair. So I wonder where this pregnancy is going. The internal debate goes something like this:

My morning sickness is getting worse.
But the Mayo Clinic web site said it was possible to have rising hCGs and a blighted ovum.

My boobs hurt.
But I'm taking progesterone.

But I'm taking it up my you-know-what and that isn't supposed to raise serum progesterone levels by much.
But I'm still supplementing.

Dr. F. at SIRM said a 30-40 percent chance of miscarriage.
Yes, but Dr. Negative said less than 1% chance of pregnancy and here I am.

The doubling time for my betas slowed way down.
Yes, but they slowed down nearly that much with Baby E.

Blah, blah, blah.
Blah, blah, blah.


To up the intensity and angst, J's parents just called and announced they are coming here tomorrow. Hellooooo. Tomorrow's a big day. Plus the baby is sick. and running a fever of 102 F. Do we really want my in-laws here if we get bad news? They have no idea that we are expecting.

J said I am being a bitch because I am telegraphing that I don't want them to come tomorrow. Telegraphing? I TOLD them that Saturday would be better because we tomorrow have appointments and a sick child. Besides, J's mom flatly rejected the Saturday offer for a full day and said they will "just stay a little while." So J and I are totally pissed at each other. He is mad that I don't care for his parents and I am mad that he won't say no to them.

He is right about one thing: I can't say that I have ever loved them (but I think the same can be said of Js feelings toward my family), but I respect them and try to get along. Now they are here every other weekend and it drives me crazy. Plus, they are very indecisive which leads to unpredictable behavior like arriving on adult children's doorsteps with less than 24 hour notice. J said he never objects to my parents' visits which is mostly true, except that they have only been here once in the last five months. I guarantee that if my mom were to start coming every other weekend, he would object. I know I would.

For my part, it makes me crazy how hard J tries to please his parents. Still. And I hate to say it, but I think he is looking for a form of approval that has never been there. Especially from his mom.* I think she approves, but I just don't know that he feels it. There is an odd dynamic at work in his family. They are extremely cerebral, but things never feel warm much less hot (I can't imagine voices ever being raised in that home). They don't speak of emotions, but they debate for hours on end at the dinner table -- competitive dining-- but never with pounding of fists or voices cracking in anguish.**

So that is where I am tonight. And I'm tired (a good sign, right?). And cranky (another good sign?). Think I'll head to bed and try to think happy thoughts.

*A retired child psychologist whose parenting style was self-described as "benign neglect."
**My family, on the other hand, is anti-intellectual and extremely emotional. NOT the best combination, I shall admit.

37

That isn't a beta. That is my age in a few hours. Lucky J to have married someone for whom he only needs to worry about gifts at Christmas and Valentine's.* I'm not depressed about turning 37. Sure, my butt is sagging and I plucked a loooong hair from my chin tonight**, but I'm OK with the whole "another year older" thing. I suspect the hormones may be helping.

Because I am more superstitious than I would like to admit, I feel it necessary to keep a tradition started on my birthday when I was a kid. First, I recap my year, then I share my hopes for the next year. It is fun and sometimes sad to go back through a few years later. For instance, I never made good on my wish at 17 wish to be John M's girlfriend, but I did finish my dissertation (28) and run a couple of marathons (32 and 33).

Recap
December 2004: Turned 36. Baby E slept through the night for the first time on Christmas granting me the best gift ever.
January 2005: Started back to work. Cried a lot. Hired one great sitter and one OK sitter.
February 2005: Was summoned before the tenure and promotion committee to provide "more information" about my tenure case. This was a very bad thing as the only people who get called in are those in danger of being denied. The call came on Friday, and my meeting wasn't until Monday. Cried for two days, then got pissed. Attended meeting, provided information, and received tenure.
March 2005: Did not get a spring break because publisher wanted that time to work on exercises. Still resentful.
April 2005: This month is a black hole for me. I remember nothing.
May 2005: Survived the semester. Had to look for summer sitter because my wonderful sitter found a nanny position in Colorado. This is the start of sitter hell. AF finally showed up. Started ttc #2.
June 2005: Hired a sitter who neglected to tell me she would be having knee surgery and could not pick up a baby. A few of her friends covered some of her hours, but it was not optimal.
July 2005: Required surgical revision of my tears from E's birth. Truly hellish surgery, but things are 100% better. Down there.
August 2005: Started taking E to another mom. It looked promising at first.
September 2005: Other mom takes last minute vacation to Costa Rica with her unvaccinated infant. To make things really fun, this happened during the week J was in Denver on business. I had to scramble to find childcare and I pissed lots of people off.
October 2005: Hateful month. High FSH discovery and visit from publisher. Stopped taking E to other mom's house.
November 2005: Three nannies, one feud, Thanksgiving with the in-laws, preseed, OPKs, getting ready for exams.
December 2005: BFP. Hope.

My hopes for the next year:

That this pregnancy is healthy.
That Baby E thrives despite the problems we have had with childcare.
That Baby E gets a spot at a good center by May.
That I summon the strength and discipline to finish the text.
That I succeed in getting family leave and sabbatical next year.
That I be a good mother to my daughter and a good wife to my husband.
That there are fewer natural disasters to fret over.
That I remember others have it much worse.
That I keep writing in this space for therapy.
That fewer hairs show up on my chin.
That Karl Rove is indicted and Cheney is forced to resign.
That Dems take over in midterm elections.
That there is peace.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanuka, or Happy Holidays to you. I'll be away for a few days (because I so love spending my birthday with my in-laws).

*We were married Valentine's weekend, not because we were all into the hearts and cupids, but because the priest wouldn't marry during Lent which started the next week. A spring wedding was not a good option because the church was being renovated and had no AC, a must for large gatherings in the South. See how defensive I am about the whole thing? I've had way too many people go, "Awww, that is so romantic to get married Valentine's Day weekend." Gag.

**Please, if I ever spend any time in a coma, you must promise me that my brows will be waxes and stray facial hairs plucked. I would do the same for you.

Double, double toil and trouble

The doubling times for my beta have slowed way down. New number 2681 . It is now taking 60 hours for the betas to double. Last week, it only took 30 hours. I know there isn't much I can do and that I will just have to worry for another 9 days until my December 30 ultrasound. My fear ,of course, is that the baby has stopped growing and we were catching the beta on its way down. I know there isn't much I can do except to try and remain stress-free, take my prenatals and stay on the progesterone.

The vitamins and progesterone I can handle. Stress free? I don't know. I have nanny issues again. The latest to give me a headache is Nanny M.

One way that I keep up with E is by keeping a daily log. The nannies make note of her daily activities, moods, naps, food consumption, and poopy diaper output. I leave notes for them and they leave me notes. I depend on an accurate record.

Nanny M is an exercise addict and part-time model and takes E for walks most days. Yesterday she let E sleep for an hour during the walk, but that threw off the nap which threw off the night schedule which just made teething hell* worse. Today I left a note asking the Nanny M to avoid letting E catnap this morning even if it meant cutting the walk early. I asked nicely. With a smiley face even.

Because J has the rest of the week off, we only asked Nanny M to come in from 9-12 today. I ended up coming home an hour early because I finished my errands, didn't care to be out in this traffic any longer, and wanted to check beta calculators. So I arrived a few minutes before 11:00 instead of 12:00. I was not expected. When I arrived home, Nanny M and E they were out walking so I peaked at the log to see what the morning had been like thus far.

I was startled to see that the log was filled out through 11:45 (45 minutes in the future). It said: "Took walk from 10:30-11:30. E slept for about 10 minutes, but I managed to keep her awake most of the time." It also said she had been great ALL morning and was happy.

So, Nanny M filled the log in ahead of time and E had that dazed, sweet just woken look when they came in. She didn't want to go down for a nap at her regular time. I'm pretty sure that Nanny M let her sleep for the whole nap. I would not be pleased with that, but the untruthful log gets me. What else is she lying about? Maybe I should get a nanny cam.

*E has been teething this week and has been up at night.