From my journal, 8/8/08:
Abigail Love Davenport was born at 3:05 p.m. on 8/8/08. She had her father's nose, her mother's chin and feet, and no heartbeat. Abigail Love was born dead.
She was the first child of Ann and Ben Davenport. Her parents had been prepared to teach her tennis and yoga, to take her on hikes and read her books, help her excel in school and give her a laughter-filled, joyous life. Instead, Ann and Ben found themselves sobbing over her tiny, lifeless body, 20 inches and 5 lbs 7.9 oz swaddled in a receiving blanket.
"We were going to make dandelion chains together," said Ann.
"We never even got to see her open her eyes," said Ben.
The day before, they'd found out that she died in the womb, from no discernible cause. Ann had just gone in for a regular prenatal checkup, and the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat with the usual doppler microphone. Nor could she find it with the next ultrasound machine. Nor could they find it with the big heavy-duty ultrasound machine at the hospital's birth center next door to the doctor's office.
Despite this compilation of evidence, her mother Ann could not quite bring herself to believe it until the next day, when she felt her daughter's body flop lifelessly from her birth canal. And even after that, at times, she stil cannot believe it. It seems like some hellish nightmare from which she will awake to go feed the baby.
*****
So ends this blog, not according to plan, but with the worst turn of events in the world blindsiding me like a freight train in a meadow where there aren't even any train tracks. The statistics say the chance of this happening is about 0.7 percent. The doctor says we have an "excellent" chance of going on to have healthy, living babies in the future. As we grieve for our beautiful daughter, we cling to the hope of being able to share our love and our lives with our children in the future.
She was so beautiful. She was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. And I am a mother who will never look into her child's eyes. No matter how many children we will hopefully go on to have, she will always be our first child, and always be in our hearts.
Do me a favor and go tell the people you love that you love them. Cherish the fact that they can hear you, and hold them close.
10 August 2008
06 August 2008
D-Day minus 5 weeks...
Oh, golly. It just hit me that I'm at 35 weeks today. That means that our official due date is 5 weeks away. Um... that's not a very long time, at all... wow.
Not that I'm hugely attached to the due date; only five percent of babies are born on their actual due date, after all. And she's small, so could easily be late, plus first babies are often late. Though Colorado babies are often early, on the other hand, and Murphy's Law seems to play a pretty dominant role in the workings of my life, and since I don't want her to be born TOO early (as in before the major event I'm running at work on August 30th, 11 days before she's due) it's entirely possible that she'll cheerfully arrive, say, tomorrow. Lord a'mercy.
We call this "head-hamsters", because these thoughts run circles in my head all day and night. Fortunately, they don't often loom too large, because when they do they give me a whole lot of anxiety. For the most part, the positive thinking and breathing exercises I'm practicing for HypnoBirthing are large and in charge, which is a really good thing.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited to become a mom, and I can't wait to meet this little gal, but every so often it's a bit overwhelming to think of how radically my life's going to change. In many ways, I know it'll stay the same - especially after the first few months of major adjustment, and as she becomes able to, you know, support her own head and hold a fork and other such milestones. But all reports indicate that the first six weeks are super-intense, and the intensity settles only mildly after that point as she goes through the rapid development of the first few years.
I've gone from reading a ton of pregnancy books to reading a bunch of parenting books. Man, they're so dogmatic! To paraphrase, if we co-sleep, my baby will be a spoiled, manipulative, three-month-old diva. If we don't co-sleep, my baby will be insecure, not trust us, and predisposed to mass-murdering or something. If we breastfeed, she'll again be overly dependent; if we don't breastfeed, she'll be dumber than if we do breastfeed and more prone to, like, death. And other bad stuff. Good grief. Is there no middle ground? It reminds me a lot of the whole medical vs natural birthing debate.
Speaking of that debate, I finally watched "The Business of Being Born", which is an amazing documentary. I strongly recommend it to anyone who is even thinking of getting pregnant, or anyone who isn't thinking of getting pregnant but is passionate about women's issues. It is intense; very well done. The night that I watched it, I had a really powerful dream about giving birth. It was pretty crazy but very cool.
We've been busy getting ready & doing all the stuff that still needs doing. There's still a pretty long list, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because doing the tasks helps keep my mind off any anxiety about becoming a mom. This weekend we took an Infant & Child First Aid & CPR class, which reassured me to know that I'd at least have some basic skills to cope with a medical emergency. We had our first appointment with our doula, also, which was phenomenal and I swear, I already feel like hiring her has been so worth the money.
Yet to be done: interview pediatricians & select one; read up on early childhood vaccines & the link with autism; deal with all the insurance paperwork that I haven't been dealing with; set up the crib; wash all the clothes with special baby-strength laundry detergent; get my hubby to finish taking care of all the stuff around the house that needs fixing before the kiddo arrives; not hyperventilate; finish the birth plan and pre-register at the hospital; remain calm; um... locate a diaper service; and let's just add 'not get overwhelmed' onto that list, just for laughs. Ha ha, haa...
K, so the point of writing this blog was to vent my anxiety... I repeat: I know everything will be fine. In many ways, I feel totally ready for her to join us out here in the non-amniotic world. It's just every once in a while that I get a little caught up in the to-do's. Maybe I just ought to get the damn things done and then, voila, they can't stress me out. What a concept!
Not that I'm hugely attached to the due date; only five percent of babies are born on their actual due date, after all. And she's small, so could easily be late, plus first babies are often late. Though Colorado babies are often early, on the other hand, and Murphy's Law seems to play a pretty dominant role in the workings of my life, and since I don't want her to be born TOO early (as in before the major event I'm running at work on August 30th, 11 days before she's due) it's entirely possible that she'll cheerfully arrive, say, tomorrow. Lord a'mercy.
We call this "head-hamsters", because these thoughts run circles in my head all day and night. Fortunately, they don't often loom too large, because when they do they give me a whole lot of anxiety. For the most part, the positive thinking and breathing exercises I'm practicing for HypnoBirthing are large and in charge, which is a really good thing.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited to become a mom, and I can't wait to meet this little gal, but every so often it's a bit overwhelming to think of how radically my life's going to change. In many ways, I know it'll stay the same - especially after the first few months of major adjustment, and as she becomes able to, you know, support her own head and hold a fork and other such milestones. But all reports indicate that the first six weeks are super-intense, and the intensity settles only mildly after that point as she goes through the rapid development of the first few years.
I've gone from reading a ton of pregnancy books to reading a bunch of parenting books. Man, they're so dogmatic! To paraphrase, if we co-sleep, my baby will be a spoiled, manipulative, three-month-old diva. If we don't co-sleep, my baby will be insecure, not trust us, and predisposed to mass-murdering or something. If we breastfeed, she'll again be overly dependent; if we don't breastfeed, she'll be dumber than if we do breastfeed and more prone to, like, death. And other bad stuff. Good grief. Is there no middle ground? It reminds me a lot of the whole medical vs natural birthing debate.
Speaking of that debate, I finally watched "The Business of Being Born", which is an amazing documentary. I strongly recommend it to anyone who is even thinking of getting pregnant, or anyone who isn't thinking of getting pregnant but is passionate about women's issues. It is intense; very well done. The night that I watched it, I had a really powerful dream about giving birth. It was pretty crazy but very cool.
We've been busy getting ready & doing all the stuff that still needs doing. There's still a pretty long list, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because doing the tasks helps keep my mind off any anxiety about becoming a mom. This weekend we took an Infant & Child First Aid & CPR class, which reassured me to know that I'd at least have some basic skills to cope with a medical emergency. We had our first appointment with our doula, also, which was phenomenal and I swear, I already feel like hiring her has been so worth the money.
Yet to be done: interview pediatricians & select one; read up on early childhood vaccines & the link with autism; deal with all the insurance paperwork that I haven't been dealing with; set up the crib; wash all the clothes with special baby-strength laundry detergent; get my hubby to finish taking care of all the stuff around the house that needs fixing before the kiddo arrives; not hyperventilate; finish the birth plan and pre-register at the hospital; remain calm; um... locate a diaper service; and let's just add 'not get overwhelmed' onto that list, just for laughs. Ha ha, haa...
K, so the point of writing this blog was to vent my anxiety... I repeat: I know everything will be fine. In many ways, I feel totally ready for her to join us out here in the non-amniotic world. It's just every once in a while that I get a little caught up in the to-do's. Maybe I just ought to get the damn things done and then, voila, they can't stress me out. What a concept!
29 July 2008
A Sneak Peek
So, when we went for a regular prenatal checkup last week, I mentioned to my doc that all and sundry had been commenting on how I didn't look 8 months pregnant. "You are measuring a little small," she said calmly, "but everything's probably fine; we'll just do another ultrasound to make sure she's coming along well."
At which point, of course, I was seized by the conflicting emotions of concern over the health risks run by low-birthweight babies, and the excitement of getting to do another ultrasound. Excitement turned to elation when she offered to let me come in and have a FREE ultrasound because they needed some test subjects for a couple product demos of ultrasound machines for their new office. In a word, WORD. Free is good, ultrasounds are cool but expensive, and the machines have the 3D/4D technology (the fourth dimension is time).
So yesterday, in we went... into a tiny little visiting room where my hubby and four random women - okay, not totally random, two were reps for the ultrasound machines, one was a doctor and one was the ultrasound tech testing the products - all squeezed in to check out el sproggo with me. For a while, I couldn't see the monitor, as they were going through showing the ultrasound tech all the buttons and gizmos and various cool functionalities. Then they got to the 3D stuff and turned the monitor around so I could see the little pooker. It was amazing. Amazing isn't strong enough. It was... dare I say... supercalilfragilisticexpialidocious? Check it out:
We think she has Ben's nose. :) That's her hand over part of her face there, obviously. And that blobby thing on the left is the placenta. Say hello to the placenta... it's a little weird to be looking at that, actually, and I apologize if it grosses you out. Apparently the sprog is all cuddled up next to it like a big, cosy, nutrient-and-vein-infused pillow.
Anyway, even though it's only a glimpse of part of her face, we think she's freakin' adorable beyond belief. It's incredible to see her like this. It makes her seem so much more real to me, for some reason, instead of just some vague concept of a hugely life-changing event that has packed 46 extra pounds onto my frame and given me a more extensive knowledge of acid reflux than I ever hoped to have. It's so worth it when I realize that there's an actual, real, distinct person inside me, and she'll be here so soon - if she's on time, only six more weeks!
So she actually is a bit small, but not to the point of needing to be worried, according to the doctor. She's 4 lbs 2 oz right now, which places her at the 18th percentile. The doc said they don't worry unless the sprog is around the 5th to 10th percentile. And her amniotic fluid level is good, which is evidently a good thing. She'll supposedly gain between a quarter and a half pound a week for the next six weeks - the doc said closer to a quarter pound - so she should be pretty close to 6 lbs if she's on time. Hey, as long as there aren't concerns about her health, I'm really okay with her being on the small side... kind of gives me the edge logistically for that drug-free birth I'm wanting! And even if she's late, she'll still probably only get to about 7 lbs max.
We had our first hypnobirthing class this past Friday. It was really cool, very interesting stuff. I've been practicing the breathing techniques and it's so good to have reinforcement of the power of positive thinking, considering that these last couple months of pregnancy are not the most physically comfortable I've ever experienced. In fact, I even used positive thinking during the ultrasound, with interesting results. They couldn't get a clear shot of her face for the 3D picture (seriously, what's posted above is as good as it got), and they'd tried many times, and were close to giving up. I started thinking, "She's going to turn and let us see her face," and focused on visualizing her doing so. Within less than a minute - no kidding - she'd turned and we could see her face! Could be coincidence, but personally, I'd rather attribute it to the power of positive thinking.
At which point, of course, I was seized by the conflicting emotions of concern over the health risks run by low-birthweight babies, and the excitement of getting to do another ultrasound. Excitement turned to elation when she offered to let me come in and have a FREE ultrasound because they needed some test subjects for a couple product demos of ultrasound machines for their new office. In a word, WORD. Free is good, ultrasounds are cool but expensive, and the machines have the 3D/4D technology (the fourth dimension is time).
So yesterday, in we went... into a tiny little visiting room where my hubby and four random women - okay, not totally random, two were reps for the ultrasound machines, one was a doctor and one was the ultrasound tech testing the products - all squeezed in to check out el sproggo with me. For a while, I couldn't see the monitor, as they were going through showing the ultrasound tech all the buttons and gizmos and various cool functionalities. Then they got to the 3D stuff and turned the monitor around so I could see the little pooker. It was amazing. Amazing isn't strong enough. It was... dare I say... supercalilfragilisticexpialidocious? Check it out:
We think she has Ben's nose. :) That's her hand over part of her face there, obviously. And that blobby thing on the left is the placenta. Say hello to the placenta... it's a little weird to be looking at that, actually, and I apologize if it grosses you out. Apparently the sprog is all cuddled up next to it like a big, cosy, nutrient-and-vein-infused pillow.Anyway, even though it's only a glimpse of part of her face, we think she's freakin' adorable beyond belief. It's incredible to see her like this. It makes her seem so much more real to me, for some reason, instead of just some vague concept of a hugely life-changing event that has packed 46 extra pounds onto my frame and given me a more extensive knowledge of acid reflux than I ever hoped to have. It's so worth it when I realize that there's an actual, real, distinct person inside me, and she'll be here so soon - if she's on time, only six more weeks!
So she actually is a bit small, but not to the point of needing to be worried, according to the doctor. She's 4 lbs 2 oz right now, which places her at the 18th percentile. The doc said they don't worry unless the sprog is around the 5th to 10th percentile. And her amniotic fluid level is good, which is evidently a good thing. She'll supposedly gain between a quarter and a half pound a week for the next six weeks - the doc said closer to a quarter pound - so she should be pretty close to 6 lbs if she's on time. Hey, as long as there aren't concerns about her health, I'm really okay with her being on the small side... kind of gives me the edge logistically for that drug-free birth I'm wanting! And even if she's late, she'll still probably only get to about 7 lbs max.
We had our first hypnobirthing class this past Friday. It was really cool, very interesting stuff. I've been practicing the breathing techniques and it's so good to have reinforcement of the power of positive thinking, considering that these last couple months of pregnancy are not the most physically comfortable I've ever experienced. In fact, I even used positive thinking during the ultrasound, with interesting results. They couldn't get a clear shot of her face for the 3D picture (seriously, what's posted above is as good as it got), and they'd tried many times, and were close to giving up. I started thinking, "She's going to turn and let us see her face," and focused on visualizing her doing so. Within less than a minute - no kidding - she'd turned and we could see her face! Could be coincidence, but personally, I'd rather attribute it to the power of positive thinking.
17 July 2008
Zero tolerance.
Let it be known, I do not suffer fools gladly.
Oh, you already picked up on that? Nice. Clearly, you do not fall in to the "fools" category. Rest assured, when I vent about random strangers, I do not mean YOU, random stranger who has the good taste and free time to read my blog (or you, obviously, treasured friends who read my blog). I mean the random strangers that feel a need to force themselves on my consciousness as I innocently roam through life on a daily basis.
My most recent favorite is courtesy of some dingbat that foisted her company upon me last night. Here, verbatim, is what happened:
Total Stranger I've Never Before Seen Or Spoken To (excitedly): How far along are you??
Me (polite smile): Eight months.
Total Stranger (searching stare with brow furrowed, as if I am lying to her; in highly skeptical tone of voice): Oh. You don't... look... like you're quite eight months...
(Pause, in which she continues to apparently wait for me to stop lying to her, and I restrain myself from smacking her upside the head.)
Me (shrugs): Okay.
(Another pause.)
Total Stranger: ...But, you're eight months. O-kay! That's great.
What I would like to have said:
a) Really? Do you think I should call my doctor? Maybe something's wrong!!
b) I'm sorry, you're right. I'm really only three months, but people freak out when I tell them that.
c) Isn't that funny? You don't look like a complete idiot, either, but appearances certainly can be deceiving.
I should really just ignore people's comments. I realize this. But I have been having to listen to them for a long time now, and I am honestly getting more and more fed up. I think I really am going to start telling people I'm only three months along, just to have some fun with it. It's also quite tempting to tell them that it's a hermaphrodite. Hee hee hee.
To the cravings question, which Dingbat-Chick also asked a little later, I might start answering things like "Haggis, mostly - and motor oil". Or perhaps "Well, I've been a vegetarian half my life, but now I'm pretty much just eating raw meat. Haven't you heard of the Raw Diet? Oh, it's great! Sometimes I cheat, though, and have french fries."
Aside from not meeting random strangers' expectations, size-wise, I feel absolutely huge; will have to post another picture sometime soon. As of yesterday, when I hit 32 weeks, I'd gained 44 pounds. It boggles the mind, n'est-ce pas?
Anyway, in other news, I am super-stoked that we start our Hypnobirthing classes next Friday. It will be so interesting! I'm also excited about them because my BB will be able to get more involved in labor & birth preparations by attending them with me, and they'll give him some concrete tools/actions he can use to help me through labor - which will likely be of some comfort to both of us!
Oh, you already picked up on that? Nice. Clearly, you do not fall in to the "fools" category. Rest assured, when I vent about random strangers, I do not mean YOU, random stranger who has the good taste and free time to read my blog (or you, obviously, treasured friends who read my blog). I mean the random strangers that feel a need to force themselves on my consciousness as I innocently roam through life on a daily basis.
My most recent favorite is courtesy of some dingbat that foisted her company upon me last night. Here, verbatim, is what happened:
Total Stranger I've Never Before Seen Or Spoken To (excitedly): How far along are you??
Me (polite smile): Eight months.
Total Stranger (searching stare with brow furrowed, as if I am lying to her; in highly skeptical tone of voice): Oh. You don't... look... like you're quite eight months...
(Pause, in which she continues to apparently wait for me to stop lying to her, and I restrain myself from smacking her upside the head.)
Me (shrugs): Okay.
(Another pause.)
Total Stranger: ...But, you're eight months. O-kay! That's great.
What I would like to have said:
a) Really? Do you think I should call my doctor? Maybe something's wrong!!
b) I'm sorry, you're right. I'm really only three months, but people freak out when I tell them that.
c) Isn't that funny? You don't look like a complete idiot, either, but appearances certainly can be deceiving.
I should really just ignore people's comments. I realize this. But I have been having to listen to them for a long time now, and I am honestly getting more and more fed up. I think I really am going to start telling people I'm only three months along, just to have some fun with it. It's also quite tempting to tell them that it's a hermaphrodite. Hee hee hee.
To the cravings question, which Dingbat-Chick also asked a little later, I might start answering things like "Haggis, mostly - and motor oil". Or perhaps "Well, I've been a vegetarian half my life, but now I'm pretty much just eating raw meat. Haven't you heard of the Raw Diet? Oh, it's great! Sometimes I cheat, though, and have french fries."
Aside from not meeting random strangers' expectations, size-wise, I feel absolutely huge; will have to post another picture sometime soon. As of yesterday, when I hit 32 weeks, I'd gained 44 pounds. It boggles the mind, n'est-ce pas?
Anyway, in other news, I am super-stoked that we start our Hypnobirthing classes next Friday. It will be so interesting! I'm also excited about them because my BB will be able to get more involved in labor & birth preparations by attending them with me, and they'll give him some concrete tools/actions he can use to help me through labor - which will likely be of some comfort to both of us!
14 July 2008
Sigh.
Over the last week, the reigning question that I hear from all and sundry is, "Are you ready to get that thing outta there?"
The answer I would like to give: "No, but I'm ready to stop answering asinine questions from random assholes I don't even know."
Oh, I'm sorry, did that sound cranky? Honestly, the whole discussing-one's-private-life-with-near-strangers is so not my cup of tea. It's worse than when I was getting married, which is the other time in one's life that everyone feels qualified to weigh in with a comment or three, because you couldn't tell just by looking at me that I was going through this major life change.
Besides, I have two freakin' months left (as of this coming Wednesday, anyway, and assuming she's on time). If I start getting sick of this now, it's going to be a long two months. I really don't mind being pregnant, I just mind having to talk about it with everyone, every day, multiple times a day. What's ironic is that the people with whom I'd like to talk about it have the good sense and compassion to not ask, because they are my friends, while the people I want to throttle feel a need to plumb the depths of my current emotional and physical status as often as possible. Well, phtbtbtbttt to you, people!
Okay, I feel better now. Nothing like a little venting to get the bitchiness out. Now let's focus on the positive. On Friday, my work friends threw me a totally awesome baby shower, which was SO much fun. It was lovely, although I felt a tiny bit weird having people gather together just to give me presents, with it not being my birthday or anything. Still, it was really nice; we had a yummy lunch at a local restaurant, and the baby and I received all kinds of adorable clothes, toys and books. Unfortunately, I couldn't read the books, because I would get all teary-eyed just looking at the first page, but I could tell from the covers and quickly flipping through that they were adorable nonetheless. This weekend, I wrote 20 thank-you notes (not all from the shower; a few were ones that had been lingering for a couple of weeks), and felt very virtuous and well-organized. I figured if I didn't do them right away, I would totally slack on them.
The other great thing about the baby shower was that it gave me the opportunity to put ribbons and bows on my head, which is something that I very much like to do when opening presents. I don't know why. It's just more fun when you festoon yourself with ribbons. See how much fun I'm having?! Thanks to my friend Kirsten for taking lots of awesome photos of the shower! Okay, I will post the photos as soon as my computer decides to cooperate, which apparently it does not feel like doing right now.
On Sunday, we went down to our favorite local bar to hear one of my favorite blues bands play - this trio fronted by a 17-year-old prodigy named Grant Sabin. I love how much live blues and bluegrass I've been able to expose her to while still in the womb. As I told my friend Sherry, "If this kid doesn't come out loving blues and bluegrass, she'll have been switched by fairies." It was a great show.
Sherry also mentioned that she and her hubby are throwing us a baby shower in August, which is very, very exciting, because we didn't have the prospect of another shower before the little tyke arrives and there is a whole lot of shit on the registry we still need. Yikes. That whole crib, stroller, swing, a billion other supplies etc thing is a little daunting, cost-wise. So now I can just figure out what I really want to get in the house and set up before late August - ie, the crib - just in case she does arrive early, which we hope she won't but would be fine if she did. Right. Anyway, it's times like this that make one appreciate how totally super and awesome one's friends really are.
The answer I would like to give: "No, but I'm ready to stop answering asinine questions from random assholes I don't even know."
Oh, I'm sorry, did that sound cranky? Honestly, the whole discussing-one's-private-life-with-near-strangers is so not my cup of tea. It's worse than when I was getting married, which is the other time in one's life that everyone feels qualified to weigh in with a comment or three, because you couldn't tell just by looking at me that I was going through this major life change.
Besides, I have two freakin' months left (as of this coming Wednesday, anyway, and assuming she's on time). If I start getting sick of this now, it's going to be a long two months. I really don't mind being pregnant, I just mind having to talk about it with everyone, every day, multiple times a day. What's ironic is that the people with whom I'd like to talk about it have the good sense and compassion to not ask, because they are my friends, while the people I want to throttle feel a need to plumb the depths of my current emotional and physical status as often as possible. Well, phtbtbtbttt to you, people!
Okay, I feel better now. Nothing like a little venting to get the bitchiness out. Now let's focus on the positive. On Friday, my work friends threw me a totally awesome baby shower, which was SO much fun. It was lovely, although I felt a tiny bit weird having people gather together just to give me presents, with it not being my birthday or anything. Still, it was really nice; we had a yummy lunch at a local restaurant, and the baby and I received all kinds of adorable clothes, toys and books. Unfortunately, I couldn't read the books, because I would get all teary-eyed just looking at the first page, but I could tell from the covers and quickly flipping through that they were adorable nonetheless. This weekend, I wrote 20 thank-you notes (not all from the shower; a few were ones that had been lingering for a couple of weeks), and felt very virtuous and well-organized. I figured if I didn't do them right away, I would totally slack on them.
The other great thing about the baby shower was that it gave me the opportunity to put ribbons and bows on my head, which is something that I very much like to do when opening presents. I don't know why. It's just more fun when you festoon yourself with ribbons. See how much fun I'm having?! Thanks to my friend Kirsten for taking lots of awesome photos of the shower! Okay, I will post the photos as soon as my computer decides to cooperate, which apparently it does not feel like doing right now.
On Sunday, we went down to our favorite local bar to hear one of my favorite blues bands play - this trio fronted by a 17-year-old prodigy named Grant Sabin. I love how much live blues and bluegrass I've been able to expose her to while still in the womb. As I told my friend Sherry, "If this kid doesn't come out loving blues and bluegrass, she'll have been switched by fairies." It was a great show.
Sherry also mentioned that she and her hubby are throwing us a baby shower in August, which is very, very exciting, because we didn't have the prospect of another shower before the little tyke arrives and there is a whole lot of shit on the registry we still need. Yikes. That whole crib, stroller, swing, a billion other supplies etc thing is a little daunting, cost-wise. So now I can just figure out what I really want to get in the house and set up before late August - ie, the crib - just in case she does arrive early, which we hope she won't but would be fine if she did. Right. Anyway, it's times like this that make one appreciate how totally super and awesome one's friends really are.
06 July 2008
Moving right along
It's been a nice holiday weekend; on Friday, we hosted a cookout for about 15 friends, then watched the fireworks in the sky right over our house. One of the benefits of living on a high hill in a small town is that we had absolutely killer views of the fireworks. Once again, the old feet and ankles got swollen from the five or six hours I spent cleaning and cooking in preparation, but happily, it actually got nice and hot in the early afternoon, and I took an hour-long break to soak in the baby pool, which totally and completely rocked. It was so relaxing. We had to take the pool down right afterwards, so we'd have room on the deck for the guests, but I'm looking forward to setting it back up again next weekend.
I've had a small return of energy, and a lot less swelling, so I think I've fully recovered from the road trip. It's nice to feel slightly more normal again. Of course, the lack of fatigue could be more like occasional bouts of insomnia, but I'm not going to look gift energy in the mouth, for lack of a better phrase.
She's kicking a lot more, which is awesome. It's so fun to watch her move around, too; sometimes my belly reminds me of when we'd play games with parachutes at camp. Her daddy finally got to feel her moving the other day, when she had the hiccups. He keeps worrying that I'm going to somehow hurt her by pressing lightly on my belly; unlike me, he hasn't had a dozen other women share with him how they used to actually poke their bellies to make their sprogs move around.
Had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, and the next one will be three weeks out instead of four weeks - definitely entering the home stretch with the more frequent doctor's visits. I reached 30 weeks this past Wednesday, so officially, there's only 10 weeks left, but I'm trying to not get too hung up on dates. When people ask when I'm due, I just tell them mid-September. I just hope she doesn't come too early, only because it would put a lot more stress on the other people putting on the special event at work on August 30th. August 31st or anytime after would be fine, really.
Turns out we won't start hypnobirthing class til late July or possibly even early August, which is fine because it's only five weeks, of which the fifth week is more of a review. Still, guess that means I'd better start practicing on my own now. Everything I've read and the various people I've talked to have said it helps as much as the person practices it, which makes sense. I also need to start working with those pain-coping techniques Pam England outlines in Birthing from Within. Oh, and I finished Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, and it was so fantastic - if I were only going to read one book while I was pregnant, that would be it. I'm glad I've read the others too, of course, but I think I'll definitely have to reread this one (and excerpts from a couple others) to help keep my head in the right place as the due date approaches.
I've had a small return of energy, and a lot less swelling, so I think I've fully recovered from the road trip. It's nice to feel slightly more normal again. Of course, the lack of fatigue could be more like occasional bouts of insomnia, but I'm not going to look gift energy in the mouth, for lack of a better phrase.
She's kicking a lot more, which is awesome. It's so fun to watch her move around, too; sometimes my belly reminds me of when we'd play games with parachutes at camp. Her daddy finally got to feel her moving the other day, when she had the hiccups. He keeps worrying that I'm going to somehow hurt her by pressing lightly on my belly; unlike me, he hasn't had a dozen other women share with him how they used to actually poke their bellies to make their sprogs move around.
Had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, and the next one will be three weeks out instead of four weeks - definitely entering the home stretch with the more frequent doctor's visits. I reached 30 weeks this past Wednesday, so officially, there's only 10 weeks left, but I'm trying to not get too hung up on dates. When people ask when I'm due, I just tell them mid-September. I just hope she doesn't come too early, only because it would put a lot more stress on the other people putting on the special event at work on August 30th. August 31st or anytime after would be fine, really.
Turns out we won't start hypnobirthing class til late July or possibly even early August, which is fine because it's only five weeks, of which the fifth week is more of a review. Still, guess that means I'd better start practicing on my own now. Everything I've read and the various people I've talked to have said it helps as much as the person practices it, which makes sense. I also need to start working with those pain-coping techniques Pam England outlines in Birthing from Within. Oh, and I finished Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, and it was so fantastic - if I were only going to read one book while I was pregnant, that would be it. I'm glad I've read the others too, of course, but I think I'll definitely have to reread this one (and excerpts from a couple others) to help keep my head in the right place as the due date approaches.
29 June 2008
Life's little ironies
Ah, Murphy's Law. It never fails. No sooner had I gotten the baby pool set up on Friday evening than the weather immediately turned cool and drizzly. And I mean immediately, like I'd flipped a freakin' switch. Saturday was also cool and drizzly, and I tried to savor the irony of actually wanting hellishly hot weather just so I could cool off in the pool - with little success. Today? Well, today is comfortably mid-70s with a light breeze. It was just warm enough that, after waiting til 2 in the afternoon, I put on my swimsuit and headed out to the deck for a little hydrotherapy. Unfortunately, the water was not mid-70s; it felt closer to mid-50s or so, to the point that when I stepped into the pool, my first thought was not "Ahhhh..." but "Holy crap!!"
But I was determined to put my fabulous plan into action, so once my feet and calves had gotten used to the chilliness of the water, I sat down to get the rest of the acclimation over with. I blithely ignored the goosebumps on my legs and arms, and soon enough, had gotten used to the frigid water. Of course, before that comfort zone had been fully reached, we had several minutes of ironically refreshing (read: freezing) breeze blowing, causing a relaxed clenching of the teeth and the silent wish that someone would turn off the freakin' refreshing breeze.
I must say, the buoyancy alone was well worth it; it's nice to have a break from the extra 40 pounds on my midsection now and again. It really was quite nice in the pool once I'd gotten used to the water temperature, which probably only took five minutes. The breeze even stopped, once it saw that I couldn't be ousted. I enjoyed the hydrotherapy for about 45 minutes or so before deciding it was time to return inside.
In another of life's little ironies, I'd originally gotten the pool with the idea that it would help the swelling in my feet and ankles, since I could stretch out and elevate my feet much better than in the confines of our funhouse-sized bathtub. But I've had little to no swelling today, I suspect partially due to having laid around for much of yesterday, and also due to having made a new friend out of an old foe: namely, pantyhose.
Let me tell you, hose and I have never gotten along in my 29 years on this earth. I hate them with a passion. Pity my poor mother for every time she made me wear them; those were some major skirmishes in the battlefield of my youth. Not only are pantyhose hot and itchy and uncomfortable, but I inadvertently possess this magical ability to get holes and runs in them within an hour of putting them on. Every time.
But my friend Angie, who had her first baby in January, had passed along a tip from a doctor friend of hers. "Support hose," she said, nodding wisely. Apparently they help prevent varicose veins, as well as keep swelling down. I'd only worn them once or twice so far, though.
So yesterday morning, we went to play 9 holes of golf with a couple friends of ours. I squeezed my poor protesting feet into socks and sneakers, and brought my faithful flip-flops along to wear as soon as we were off the course. When I pulled the sneakers and socks off, I saw the weirdest looking feet I have ever seen on a person, and they were mine. The feet were not swollen at all, thanks to the restriction of the sneakers. Where the sneakers ended then bulged out sort of like a baseball, or like play-dough feet and legs in a sculpture by a fairly untalented child. Then where the socks ended, not too far up the calf, was this sort of rounded indentation to form the top of the baseball and my calves were swollen out a bit more beyond that. Fun!!
Hence, this morning - although happily the swelling had abated after a restful afternoon and evening yesterday - I decided to give the knee-highs another try. And lo and behold, no swelling. My feet look like my feet. My ankles look like my ankles. It's amazing. Now if I can figure out how to wear hose all through the long, hot summer without going insane, I'll really be in good shape. ...And if I can't, there's always my hydrotherapy 'perspective pool'.
By the way, I feel I should apologize for the obsession with the swollen feet and ankles. I realize it's dominated the last several posts. Trust me, it's probably better than hearing about my bacne, reflux or farting. Anyway, now that the situation's improving, I hope you can look forward to somewhat more interesting posts. :)
But I was determined to put my fabulous plan into action, so once my feet and calves had gotten used to the chilliness of the water, I sat down to get the rest of the acclimation over with. I blithely ignored the goosebumps on my legs and arms, and soon enough, had gotten used to the frigid water. Of course, before that comfort zone had been fully reached, we had several minutes of ironically refreshing (read: freezing) breeze blowing, causing a relaxed clenching of the teeth and the silent wish that someone would turn off the freakin' refreshing breeze.
I must say, the buoyancy alone was well worth it; it's nice to have a break from the extra 40 pounds on my midsection now and again. It really was quite nice in the pool once I'd gotten used to the water temperature, which probably only took five minutes. The breeze even stopped, once it saw that I couldn't be ousted. I enjoyed the hydrotherapy for about 45 minutes or so before deciding it was time to return inside.
In another of life's little ironies, I'd originally gotten the pool with the idea that it would help the swelling in my feet and ankles, since I could stretch out and elevate my feet much better than in the confines of our funhouse-sized bathtub. But I've had little to no swelling today, I suspect partially due to having laid around for much of yesterday, and also due to having made a new friend out of an old foe: namely, pantyhose.
Let me tell you, hose and I have never gotten along in my 29 years on this earth. I hate them with a passion. Pity my poor mother for every time she made me wear them; those were some major skirmishes in the battlefield of my youth. Not only are pantyhose hot and itchy and uncomfortable, but I inadvertently possess this magical ability to get holes and runs in them within an hour of putting them on. Every time.
But my friend Angie, who had her first baby in January, had passed along a tip from a doctor friend of hers. "Support hose," she said, nodding wisely. Apparently they help prevent varicose veins, as well as keep swelling down. I'd only worn them once or twice so far, though.
So yesterday morning, we went to play 9 holes of golf with a couple friends of ours. I squeezed my poor protesting feet into socks and sneakers, and brought my faithful flip-flops along to wear as soon as we were off the course. When I pulled the sneakers and socks off, I saw the weirdest looking feet I have ever seen on a person, and they were mine. The feet were not swollen at all, thanks to the restriction of the sneakers. Where the sneakers ended then bulged out sort of like a baseball, or like play-dough feet and legs in a sculpture by a fairly untalented child. Then where the socks ended, not too far up the calf, was this sort of rounded indentation to form the top of the baseball and my calves were swollen out a bit more beyond that. Fun!!
Hence, this morning - although happily the swelling had abated after a restful afternoon and evening yesterday - I decided to give the knee-highs another try. And lo and behold, no swelling. My feet look like my feet. My ankles look like my ankles. It's amazing. Now if I can figure out how to wear hose all through the long, hot summer without going insane, I'll really be in good shape. ...And if I can't, there's always my hydrotherapy 'perspective pool'.
By the way, I feel I should apologize for the obsession with the swollen feet and ankles. I realize it's dominated the last several posts. Trust me, it's probably better than hearing about my bacne, reflux or farting. Anyway, now that the situation's improving, I hope you can look forward to somewhat more interesting posts. :)
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