My sitter is back

Ah bliss. One of our three sitters from last year has returned. Her fiance, a professional athlete, was not picked up by the major league so he is back here playing for a farm team. I know they are disappointed, but I am so happy to have her back. She came over three afternoons this week and watched M while I worked upstairs. When it was time for me to feed M, she knocked on the door and I took a nursing break. It was so easy! If I could afford to do this long-term I wouldn't put M in daycare in January.

Advice

You'll thank me for this: When you decide it is time to get your hair chopped off, make sure the stylist has a lot of experience cutting short hair.

One year of blogging

Was it really a year ago today that I learned my FSH was 24.7? That Nurse Joy didn't want to give me the news? That I stood behind the little coffee shop sobbing and hoping passersby wouldn't notice? That I had to cancel my evening class because my eyes were red and puffy and I wasn't sure I could keep my composure?

A lot has changed and a lot has stayed the same. The RE was wrong. My eggs were good. The book is not nearly done. I'm a mom again.

Mama's lost her groove

Baby M (wasn't that the name of a custody battle baby?) is eight weeks old and is a model citizen. While she isn't sleeping quite through the night, she goes down around 10:30 p.m. and doesn't wake again until 4:30-5:00 a.m. After a slow start to breastfeeding, we have the hang of it. She mostly eats every three hours or so until the evening when she eats a bit more frequently. She doesn't fuss much and she smiles a lot. Baby M has found her groove.

So what is wrong with Mama?

• She is 10 pounds heaver than she was this time last year and that last ten pounds aren't budging. This is probably due to her very healthy appetite and lack of exercise. The ten pounds make Mama feel fat and very unattractive. Her favorite jeans don't fit. Hell, none of her jeans fit and she was reduced to a trip to K-Mart for three pairs of fat pants less she freeze her ass off. Actually, freezing her ass off sounds like a plan.
• She is trying to work around the baby on a project she hates. While M is basically on her own little schedule, she needs lots of attention as newborns tend to do. Mama is supposedly back at work full time with the baby. That means schlepping the baby to campus at least one day per week and trying to work from home the other days. The problem with this is that the blocks of working time (when not needing to tend to the baby) are small and by the time Mama is finally immersed in the detestable text, it is time to save all files and feed, burp, bathe, walk, or cuddle with the little one. Mama much prefers this to writing anyway.
• She does not like the publisher of the text who is pure evil. It had to be said. Seriously, this is not a nice woman and the entire thing-- nine more chapters--must be completed by April 30. Or else. She is making a trip this way in three weeks. Is praying for a November hurricane a bad thing?
• She is devoting considerable energy to Big Sister E who is "highly spirited" which is a nice way of saying she has taken the "terrible" in terrible two to heart. She is a lovely girl when she is happy, but she can turn on a dime.
  
• She trips over toys and baby gear daily. Despite attempts to keep the living space in order, it feels chaotic and cluttered. Between puzzle pieces, baby swings, and books and magazines (oh yes! a household of readers), things have a tendency to pile up.
• She feels anxious. All the time. And unsettled. Is this the first hint of postpartum depression? Perhaps this is just to be expected.

Clearly, something needs to happen to make Mama feel more in control. A few ideas:

• While it means stranding J with the girls for 90 minutes, I insist on going to yoga or Pilates twice a week. I've done this three times and felt better for a little while after. No matter that I am the worst student in the class.
• I need to start running again. I have a bad neck so this is a little scary, but the times I've felt most in control were the times I was running regularly. M is still a little small for running (in the running stroller) so I'll have to work out something with J.
• I have to come to terms with the text. I completed a dissertation somehow. This shouldn't be as difficult because it isn't original research.
• I need some changes. I'm starting with my hair; I'm getting it lopped off. Seriously, it just adds to the frump. It is time for something short and perky.

Baby M is waking. If you see my groove please send it my way. I need it.

A Belated Birth Story

I promised a birth story so here goes. It was a ridiculously easy birth compared to E's delivery two years ago. Here is what made the delivery different: My epidural worked, no magnesium sulfate was involved, no vacuum was needed, there were no third degree tears from hell, and I was not in labor for 36 hours. It was the birth experience I had hoped for.

After being told I could go anytime starting at 37 weeks, I was still very pregnant (and totally pissed about it) at 39 weeks. Because my blood pressure started to rise, I was scheduled for an induction on M's due date. We were at the hospital by 6:30a.m. By 8:30, my OB broke my water and by 9:00 I was having contractions with the help of Pitocin. The contractions weren't that bad, but I asked for an epidural around 10:00. I was only 3 cm by 11:00 so J and I thought we were in for a very long labor (I was in labor with E from 5 a.m. when my contractions started until she was born at 5:30 the next day).

We settled in for a long wait and decided to watch a DVD on my computer. Unfortunately, I wasn't terribly discerning in my program selection. I selected Season One of Weeds*, not realizing that there would be fairly graphic sex scene on the episode we selected (think Sex in the City). My computer is relatively new, so I was frantically trying to stop the DVD before the doctor or nurse walked in and discovered us watching porn. Oh well. Live and learn. We turned the computer off.

Around 1:00 I had breakthrough pain so my epidural (lovely epidural!) was amped up. I felt pressure around 1:45 and when the doctor checked me at 2 p.m. I was complete, complete and +3. It was time to push. I really only had to push through about four contractions and I delivered my lovely, curly haired baby at 2:30. I had a second degree tear, but it healed well and didn't cause me much aggravation.

It was a wonderful experience and I would do it again. In fact, I would love to do it again. What is wrong with me?

*Which I really like despite the shocking scene.

Dear Dr. Negative and Nurse Joy

My less-than-one-percent-chance-of-conception baby has arrived. She is perfect. Lovely. Brilliant. Adored.Here. At last. *

May I suggest that in the future, rather than scare the shit out of patients who present with less than stellar hormonal profiles, that you instead show a little compassion and a little willingness to work with them? At the very least, refer them to a center that is less concerned about the center's statistics. Don't push donor eggs until you are certain that all avenues have been exhausted. [Trust me, you didn't exhaust any avenues.] Finally, believe it is possible for the sake of your patients. I think I managed to get pregnant largely because Dr. F believed I could do it. I have six and a half pounds of proof sitting next to me.


*I promise a real update and short birth story when I have a little more time and a lot more energy. As it happens, I developed a case of late onset preeclampsia four days after M was born and had to be rehospitalized. I'm feeling better, but still battling high blood pressure and the extra fatigue that brings. Then there is the small matter of M thinking party time is from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m.

Never made it to the hospital

About an hour after posting last night, the contractions abruptly slowed and became less intense. By midnight, they had quit altogether. The upside is that I got a decent night's sleep. The downside is that my mom is here now. Watching me. For signs of labor. I may go crazy.

Contractions every four minutes or so. . .

This afternoon I realized that I haven't really wrapped my brain around this "parent of two" thing. I guess I have a little bit of time to work on that. Not much, though. I almost cried when I put E to bed. She was a prefect child today. Funny, talkative, affectionate. We have a good thing going. Please, please let that continue.

My mom should be here soon and then we are heading to the hospital. I'm a little worried that I will have made no progress since this morning when I was barely 2cm and 50% effaced. I have a history of slow labor with E. Surely they won't send me home when I've been in labor since 2 a.m. (it is now 9 p.m.) Will they?

Will update when I am able.

The plug! The plug!

Damn! That was gross. Snotty? Check. Bloody? Check. Ready to get this show on the road? Check.

Before we get too excited, I should mention that the OB stripped my membranes on Friday so this isn't totally unexpected. Plus, I've read that it can regenerate. Still, the promise of going into labor without the sledgehammer of a pitocin drip is alluring. If I don't go into labor on my own by Friday, the OB is planning to induce. My BP is creeping up there so we don't want it to get out of hand.

We saw the baby on Wednesday. Measuring a bit small--18th percentile--for dates, but looked great. Of course, with a margin of error of about a pound in either direction, there is no telling what we'll end up with. I'd post an ultrasound, but my uterus is rather cramped and the pictures aren't very good.

E is doing much better. She seems recovered from the ear infection and cold and has slept relatively well the last few nights. I feel a little guilty that we are about to rock her world with the addition of a new family member, but I think she'll forgive us one day.

We still have a few house tasks left to accomplish, but we are basically there. Most of what is left can wait since the baby will be in our room for a couple of months.

Will update when there is something to report.

Dear Baby

Ouch. I know you probably feel cramped in there, but I think you may have cracked one of my ribs tonight. You are also head butting my cervix, which I hear is good for getting things going, but do you think you could stop for a few hours? Please? Mama needs sleep.

You see, your big sister has been sick since last Thursday. Actually she had a cold before that, but she has been really sick since Thursday with high fevers, pain and crankiness. Despite the tubes, she has a lovely ear infection. Truth be told, this is the worst infection yet. The doctor speculated that dried blood from the procedure may have blocked a tube and prevented it from draining. This gave the bacteria a place to thrive until the pressure built and built and your sister's ear exploded. She hasn't been sleeping well as a result. And now her hair is matted with ear drainage which is vile, vile stuff. She hasn't been to school since Thursday and I haven't had a nap since she has been home. I need a nap. Forget Brad Pitt: my fantasies now involve eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. But I would settle for five or six.

The doctor says you could arrive anytime now. I'm so looking forward to meeting you, but can you give us just another couple of days? Your sister's furniture should be painted by tomorrow-- even if I have to do it myself--and I have cleaners coming. So the house will be ready soon. If I can just rest up a little before giving birth, I think we will both be better off for it.

Plus, your sister and I have not had much quality time during the last week. Quantity time, yes. Lot's of that. But it is hard to have quality time when someone is screaming from pain and is generally very cranky. We've watched way too much TV and now I have the theme to several children's programs stuck in an endless loop running through my head. I have a Ph.D. and I have been reduced to humming along to a Higley Town Heros, Doodlebops, and Signing Times medley. It isn't right.

We'll get to see you Wednesday one way or another. I'm measuring small so the OB just wants to take a quick peak and make sure things are OK. I still don't know your gender, but your grandmother (the one attached to her cell phone) insists you are a boy. If you are, that is OK, but we are going to have to go shopping unless you are into pink ruffles. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Hang in there another couple of days, my lovely one. There is a big world out here waiting. I can't wait to show it to you.

All my love.

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.