Sometimes there's too much going on, to post in a blog. Sometimes there's nothing going on and nothing to write about. Sometimes it feels like both.
My sister and her boyfriend spent the weekend here, en route from Texas to Europe. Now they're gone, but we have her car and her dog in our possession as a reminder that being a big sister is forever. Don't make that commitment lightly, folks...
Am I a little jealous about a 2-month trip to Europe? Of course. Who wouldn't be? On the other hand, I will never be footloose enough to quit my job, cancel my lease, put all my stuff in storage, drop the dog at my sister's, and take off. I will never be outgoing enough for couch-surfing to be my preferred way of travel, which is what they'll be doing. More than anything I want them to have an amazing trip, something to remember for life.
Although I'm damn worried about Cocomo. This dog is seriously underweight, almost to the point of being starved. I've never seen a dog so thin that was being actively cared for-- she's the kind of skinny that you usually only see in strays or recently rescued shelter-dogs. Her home-life has been very unstable since Don and I moved away. First in one apartment, with three different roommates in succession. Two with dogs. Then in a house populated by three guys, my sister, and a huge unfixed male boxer that intimidated the hell out of her and ate her food. You can see all of her ribs, even from a distance.
I know my sister loves her dog and that she does as well as she can by her. But I kind of wanted to smack her when I saw that puppy... If my dog were losing weight like that I would do whatever I could to fix the situation, you know? Move the dog to a safer location. Keep her, and her food, in a bedroom. Something. Not just let her stress out until her ribs poke out through her fur.
Lately I've been gripped with worry that I'm losing this pregnancy. I don't know why, exactly, but I feel certain that something is wrong even though I feel OK. Maybe because I feel so OK. I don't even remotely feel pregnant anymore. My next doctor's appointment isn't until Wednesday, a week from today. I guess if nothing happens between now and then, I'll just ask them to confirm that everything's still ticking along in there. Right now all I feel is impending doom...
Showing posts with label Pregnant--Take 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnant--Take 2. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
You Don't Say-- Really
Apparently, being pregnant is somehow like running for public office; it enables random people to ask questions and make comments that they never would ordinarily. I don't remember signing up for this...
Tips on Dealing with the Pregnant Woman
Don't touch. I guess it's one thing later on, when there's a cute basketball-belly full of baby; some people can't help themselves. But if your coworker spills the beans that she's 9 weeks pregnant, DO NOT grab her belly. Yes, someone did this to me. I had to grab her hand, push it away, and say, "That's NOT BABY, that's my belly. YOU ARE GRABBING MY BELLY FAT." I explained in graphic detail that the "baby" is at that point the size of a Lima bean, floating in a uterus the size of a grapefruit that is still tucked securely in my pelvis. Anything that is "showing" on me right now is just weight gain due to the excessive hunger and complete cessation of all physical activity. Babies don't start behind the belly button and grow out; they start wayyy down, below the pubic bone, and grow upwards.
On a similar note, how is it appropriate to make comments about someone else's body? Unless my baby is finally showing up front, there is no call for this. My growing ass and boobs are not your concern and it is tacky to mention them.
If someone you know is suffering from ongoing morning sickness, do not do any of the following:
Do not repeatedly exclaim that you never had a day's worth of being sick! Isn't it just funny how some women get sick and some don't! Well, I'm so happy for you, but it sure doesn't make me feel better right now. Misery does not love gloating. I prefer to hear about similar stories from women that are understanding, that remember clearly the relationship that develops between preggers and their toilet bowl. (Or bucket. I heart my bucket.)
Do not imply that worry, ambivalence, or unhappiness with the pregnancy is causing morning sickness. What a toxic, disgusting idea. We've been trying for the better part of a year to make this baby. Had a terrible miscarriage just a few months ago. If I were any happier about being pregnant, I would float into work instead of walking. (Dragging. Whatever.) I know I look miserable, but that's because I feel like shit, not because I'm ambivalent. DO NOT say, "Oh, I never got morning sickness, I think I was just so happy to be pregnant that it just didn't occur to me." Because if I killed you, I think I would be acquitted. Here's the thing: during early pregnancy, the female body is flooded with hormones. Some women react better to that than others; some react as though they are being poisoned by these unfamiliar chemicals that are building up in the liver and kidneys. The body's natural response is to get rid of the 'toxins' the only way it knows how, which is barf. And I'm sure that being on these hormone supplements for the last month is not helping my case. But it doesn't give anyone the right to question how I feel about being pregnant, which last time I checked wasn't even anyone else's business to begin with.
Sharing the news. I had to share my happy news at work much earlier than I intended to, because of the constant illness. Half had already guessed, because let's face it, when you see a woman going to barf several times a day for days on end, it becomes clear that it isn't a virus. But here's the thing; just because you know doesn't give you the right to share that with whomever, whenever. For example. I tell my manager about the Little Bean out of necessity, to explain a sick-day. The next day is a general announcement, congratulations, etc. OK. But why is she telling so many random people that couldn't care less? Our customers do not care. Visiting higher-ups and other managers don't care. Pregnancy only becomes interesting to strangers when it's visible and imminent. First-trimester pregnancy is boring. So please don't go, "And this is Mara, who just told us she's going to be a mother!"
Telling the people I work with every day out of necessity is a bit different than wearing a sandwich board as I walk down the street. I have no desire to share my happy news with random strangers, so could you please stop doing that? When I'm showing, that will be my sandwich board to the world. Until then, why not keep it among those who either need to know, or who care enough about me to find it interesting news?
On the same note, it's silly to ask, "Did you just find out?" No. I just told you. I've known for a month or so. How ignorant do you think I am-- to not realize that I'm pregnant for weeks and weeks? It seems I have more discretion than you realize; I can apparently decide to keep this news from you as long as I deem necessary. Sorry if that hurts your feelings, but managers and coworkers are not the same thing as close friends.
Ahh, labor and birth. Why would you tell me that I'll need the drugs? Is it because you did, so you can't stand the idea of anyone else daring not to? If I heard that you were training to run a triathlon in six months, I would never pat you on the back and say, "Honey, you'll never make that. I'd look into steroids, if I were you. Everybody does it!" Obviously, I don't KNOW what labor will be like for me. Obviously, you don't either. Personally I believe that I was built to give birth, as anyone who's seen me in real life could understand... I have the HIPS, baby. But you know, I can't guarantee that I won't need pain relief, I understand that it's a possibility. I just don't understand why you would try to undermine someones desire to do that "natural thing".
How OLD are you? Are you married? Was this planned? Wow, could you be any ruder? Did you parents forget to teach you manners? Were you brought up in a barn? Sorry, I forgot that turnabout isn't fair play. I am 26 year old. Yes, I realize that I look younger than my age; five extra years so far of getting carded doesn't let me forget. Guesses tend to range from 19-24, average about 22. I know full well that if I were ten years older (or looked ten years older) you wouldn't dare to ask these impertinent questions, nor would you even care. My story is pretty boring: 26, married, very much planned. A long time trying, actually. Does that excuse your asking? No. What the HELL. If I WERE 21, single and completely surprised by this, would that justify you? Would that make it OK to ask these kinds of things? My being young (or young-looking) does not somehow give you the right to ask me questions you'd never ask a 36 year-old matronly type. I do not like seeing you prepare to judge me, and then change your mind because I have the right statistics. You have no right to judge in the first place; my answers are irrelevant.
This lesson brought to you by one grumpy-assed pregnant lady!
Tips on Dealing with the Pregnant Woman
Don't touch. I guess it's one thing later on, when there's a cute basketball-belly full of baby; some people can't help themselves. But if your coworker spills the beans that she's 9 weeks pregnant, DO NOT grab her belly. Yes, someone did this to me. I had to grab her hand, push it away, and say, "That's NOT BABY, that's my belly. YOU ARE GRABBING MY BELLY FAT." I explained in graphic detail that the "baby" is at that point the size of a Lima bean, floating in a uterus the size of a grapefruit that is still tucked securely in my pelvis. Anything that is "showing" on me right now is just weight gain due to the excessive hunger and complete cessation of all physical activity. Babies don't start behind the belly button and grow out; they start wayyy down, below the pubic bone, and grow upwards.
On a similar note, how is it appropriate to make comments about someone else's body? Unless my baby is finally showing up front, there is no call for this. My growing ass and boobs are not your concern and it is tacky to mention them.
If someone you know is suffering from ongoing morning sickness, do not do any of the following:
Do not repeatedly exclaim that you never had a day's worth of being sick! Isn't it just funny how some women get sick and some don't! Well, I'm so happy for you, but it sure doesn't make me feel better right now. Misery does not love gloating. I prefer to hear about similar stories from women that are understanding, that remember clearly the relationship that develops between preggers and their toilet bowl. (Or bucket. I heart my bucket.)
Do not imply that worry, ambivalence, or unhappiness with the pregnancy is causing morning sickness. What a toxic, disgusting idea. We've been trying for the better part of a year to make this baby. Had a terrible miscarriage just a few months ago. If I were any happier about being pregnant, I would float into work instead of walking. (Dragging. Whatever.) I know I look miserable, but that's because I feel like shit, not because I'm ambivalent. DO NOT say, "Oh, I never got morning sickness, I think I was just so happy to be pregnant that it just didn't occur to me." Because if I killed you, I think I would be acquitted. Here's the thing: during early pregnancy, the female body is flooded with hormones. Some women react better to that than others; some react as though they are being poisoned by these unfamiliar chemicals that are building up in the liver and kidneys. The body's natural response is to get rid of the 'toxins' the only way it knows how, which is barf. And I'm sure that being on these hormone supplements for the last month is not helping my case. But it doesn't give anyone the right to question how I feel about being pregnant, which last time I checked wasn't even anyone else's business to begin with.
Sharing the news. I had to share my happy news at work much earlier than I intended to, because of the constant illness. Half had already guessed, because let's face it, when you see a woman going to barf several times a day for days on end, it becomes clear that it isn't a virus. But here's the thing; just because you know doesn't give you the right to share that with whomever, whenever. For example. I tell my manager about the Little Bean out of necessity, to explain a sick-day. The next day is a general announcement, congratulations, etc. OK. But why is she telling so many random people that couldn't care less? Our customers do not care. Visiting higher-ups and other managers don't care. Pregnancy only becomes interesting to strangers when it's visible and imminent. First-trimester pregnancy is boring. So please don't go, "And this is Mara, who just told us she's going to be a mother!"
Telling the people I work with every day out of necessity is a bit different than wearing a sandwich board as I walk down the street. I have no desire to share my happy news with random strangers, so could you please stop doing that? When I'm showing, that will be my sandwich board to the world. Until then, why not keep it among those who either need to know, or who care enough about me to find it interesting news?
On the same note, it's silly to ask, "Did you just find out?" No. I just told you. I've known for a month or so. How ignorant do you think I am-- to not realize that I'm pregnant for weeks and weeks? It seems I have more discretion than you realize; I can apparently decide to keep this news from you as long as I deem necessary. Sorry if that hurts your feelings, but managers and coworkers are not the same thing as close friends.
Ahh, labor and birth. Why would you tell me that I'll need the drugs? Is it because you did, so you can't stand the idea of anyone else daring not to? If I heard that you were training to run a triathlon in six months, I would never pat you on the back and say, "Honey, you'll never make that. I'd look into steroids, if I were you. Everybody does it!" Obviously, I don't KNOW what labor will be like for me. Obviously, you don't either. Personally I believe that I was built to give birth, as anyone who's seen me in real life could understand... I have the HIPS, baby. But you know, I can't guarantee that I won't need pain relief, I understand that it's a possibility. I just don't understand why you would try to undermine someones desire to do that "natural thing".
How OLD are you? Are you married? Was this planned? Wow, could you be any ruder? Did you parents forget to teach you manners? Were you brought up in a barn? Sorry, I forgot that turnabout isn't fair play. I am 26 year old. Yes, I realize that I look younger than my age; five extra years so far of getting carded doesn't let me forget. Guesses tend to range from 19-24, average about 22. I know full well that if I were ten years older (or looked ten years older) you wouldn't dare to ask these impertinent questions, nor would you even care. My story is pretty boring: 26, married, very much planned. A long time trying, actually. Does that excuse your asking? No. What the HELL. If I WERE 21, single and completely surprised by this, would that justify you? Would that make it OK to ask these kinds of things? My being young (or young-looking) does not somehow give you the right to ask me questions you'd never ask a 36 year-old matronly type. I do not like seeing you prepare to judge me, and then change your mind because I have the right statistics. You have no right to judge in the first place; my answers are irrelevant.
This lesson brought to you by one grumpy-assed pregnant lady!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
YAYYYY!!!!!!
It's all good. Embryo is alive, has a heartbeat. Looks like the Michelin Tire Man, but in a good way. It looks like I'm actually pregnant for the long haul this time...
I had to wait one day to write about it, because yesterday it would have been all gibberish and blubbering, which doesn't translate well onscreen. I cried all over the nurse as she tried to explain various part of my Little Bean as "the yolk sac" and "the arm buds". Honestly it looks just like a blob. But a living, flashing blob; very cute. So different than the dark empty spot in the last one. I called my parents last night to share the news (finally!) and (of course!) they're thrilled to death.
The sickness is getting old. I find myself calculating the statistics: throwing up between two and six times a day, mean of 3, median 2. If I had a point for every new bathroom explored, I'd have a lot of points-- who's in charge of the points, anyway? I need to talk with them. Everyone at work asks me how I feel, multiple times a day. I don't know what to say; do I tell the truth-- I feel crappy, I wish I were at home in bed with my bucket? Because that's getting old and boring. Do I lie and say I'm fine, even though they are asking genuinely? bleh.
HARRY POTTER TOMORROW. SO EXITED. Here are the theories that I'm hoping will bite the dust once and for all:
The Harry-and-Hermione-are-brother-and-sister theory. PLEASE.
The Harry-(or his scar)-is-a-Horcrux theory.
The Harry-will-die theory. (I hope, I hope, I hope...)
The Snape-and-Lily theory. Ewwww. Nuff said there.
I had to wait one day to write about it, because yesterday it would have been all gibberish and blubbering, which doesn't translate well onscreen. I cried all over the nurse as she tried to explain various part of my Little Bean as "the yolk sac" and "the arm buds". Honestly it looks just like a blob. But a living, flashing blob; very cute. So different than the dark empty spot in the last one. I called my parents last night to share the news (finally!) and (of course!) they're thrilled to death.
The sickness is getting old. I find myself calculating the statistics: throwing up between two and six times a day, mean of 3, median 2. If I had a point for every new bathroom explored, I'd have a lot of points-- who's in charge of the points, anyway? I need to talk with them. Everyone at work asks me how I feel, multiple times a day. I don't know what to say; do I tell the truth-- I feel crappy, I wish I were at home in bed with my bucket? Because that's getting old and boring. Do I lie and say I'm fine, even though they are asking genuinely? bleh.
HARRY POTTER TOMORROW. SO EXITED. Here are the theories that I'm hoping will bite the dust once and for all:
The Harry-and-Hermione-are-brother-and-sister theory. PLEASE.
The Harry-(or his scar)-is-a-Horcrux theory.
The Harry-will-die theory. (I hope, I hope, I hope...)
The Snape-and-Lily theory. Ewwww. Nuff said there.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Oy Vey!
Am in the grips of an alien occupation. No longer have control over any aspect of my own life; have been reduced to squirrel-like status of eating-sleeping-hording food, with occasional outbursts of crazy emotion.
I have to eat every couple of hours or else feel that lovely motion-sickness-like pregnancy feeling. This takes a lot of planning and strategy, as I have to actually go to work and stuff. So I have a bag of trail mix in my purse, half my lunch in the break-room fridge, and here at my work-station-- water and part of a cookie. Just to keep from feeling dizzy and nauseus...Really, like a squirrel. And not a paticularly healthy squirrel at that...
For one thing all I want is carbohydrates. Potatoes. I made latkes a few nights ago, only six months out of season. Chanukah food in the middle of summer? But they were so good.
Yesterday Don and I BOTH had the day off, something that only happens every blue moon or so. Most of the day was spent in lessons on "How to treat your pregnant wife":
DO talk to the "baby". DON'T just shout HELLO and blow raspberries on belly.
DO bring her cereal in bed. DON'T say, "here ya go, Barfy!"
DO make dinner. DON'T talk about disgusting things...
Etc. I think we're making progress.
I have to eat every couple of hours or else feel that lovely motion-sickness-like pregnancy feeling. This takes a lot of planning and strategy, as I have to actually go to work and stuff. So I have a bag of trail mix in my purse, half my lunch in the break-room fridge, and here at my work-station-- water and part of a cookie. Just to keep from feeling dizzy and nauseus...Really, like a squirrel. And not a paticularly healthy squirrel at that...
For one thing all I want is carbohydrates. Potatoes. I made latkes a few nights ago, only six months out of season. Chanukah food in the middle of summer? But they were so good.
Yesterday Don and I BOTH had the day off, something that only happens every blue moon or so. Most of the day was spent in lessons on "How to treat your pregnant wife":
DO talk to the "baby". DON'T just shout HELLO and blow raspberries on belly.
DO bring her cereal in bed. DON'T say, "here ya go, Barfy!"
DO make dinner. DON'T talk about disgusting things...
Etc. I think we're making progress.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
I'm hungry, are you cooking?
The nasty mood lifted and the physical symptoms descended, all at the same time. I guess the hormones affect the mind before the body? I don't feel so apathetic and overwhelmed as I did; I feel more in control. For example the thought of having to do the dishes, wash some clothes and clean the kitchen does not make me want to hide under the comforter and cry as it did last week. This is progress; it is being pulled back from the brink of the nasty depression. Don's take on it: of course you're feeling psychotic, in addition to all the regular hormones you're shoving extra ones in!
But those are supposed to be filling a deficit, so it should all come out the same, right? Anyways I'm taking them with mind-numbing regularity; it's amazing how easy it is to remember the meds when it's such a life-of-death matter as opposed to getting rid of strep throat or something. Probably the first time I've ever stayed on a prescription for more than a week without missing a dose.
Friday I looked in the mirror at work and realized that I have a glow. I thought that was just a myth, and old-wives-tale. I've been worried about my belly popping out before I'm ready to tell, about my boobs giving me away, when my secret is written across my cheeks for any observant person to read. It's like a sunburn but more even and kinda shiny. And the nausea and overwhelming obsession with food have arrived on schedule.
I feel a little lonely and isolated, probably because I haven't told anyone in my family about this pregnancy yet. Wanted to hold onto the pregnancy for a few weeks first, although that makes little sense; the last one didn't end until 10 weeks along so what good is holding out a few more weeks going to do? Yesterday I decided I'd tell my mom but I completely forgot that she and my brother are travelling to Peru for a couple of weeks, doing a Boy Scout trek along the Inca Trail among other things. Some daughter/sister I am, huh? To forget about a trip like that? So she calls me from the airport a few hours before I'd planned on calling her with THE NEWS and I couldn't tell her; the timing was all wrong, we could barely here each other. They will get back shortly before my ultrasound, so maybe I'll just call after that, either way.
The ultrasound is scheduled for two and a half days before the Harry Potter release. I know that for any normal person, this would not be a conflict of interest. Have I EVER claimed normalcy? Normal is overrated. I am afraid that if it's good news (you know, there's a baby with a heartbeat and etc) it will overshadow THE BOOK. What if I can't concentrate, due to overwhelming joy/happiness? On the other hand if it's bad news, it could poison the whole HPexperience! I guess I'll just have to set the whole pregnancy aside for a bit, to read.
And, Don will be out of town on a business trip then, so he can't come with me; I'll have to call him afterwards. I couldn't have picked a worse time, but waiting even another week to know what's going on in there would kill me, which would totally defeat the purpose. Honestly, if I could just take a nap and wake up on the 18th to go to the doctor's, that would be great. Right now I need to go eat something... again.
But those are supposed to be filling a deficit, so it should all come out the same, right? Anyways I'm taking them with mind-numbing regularity; it's amazing how easy it is to remember the meds when it's such a life-of-death matter as opposed to getting rid of strep throat or something. Probably the first time I've ever stayed on a prescription for more than a week without missing a dose.
Friday I looked in the mirror at work and realized that I have a glow. I thought that was just a myth, and old-wives-tale. I've been worried about my belly popping out before I'm ready to tell, about my boobs giving me away, when my secret is written across my cheeks for any observant person to read. It's like a sunburn but more even and kinda shiny. And the nausea and overwhelming obsession with food have arrived on schedule.
I feel a little lonely and isolated, probably because I haven't told anyone in my family about this pregnancy yet. Wanted to hold onto the pregnancy for a few weeks first, although that makes little sense; the last one didn't end until 10 weeks along so what good is holding out a few more weeks going to do? Yesterday I decided I'd tell my mom but I completely forgot that she and my brother are travelling to Peru for a couple of weeks, doing a Boy Scout trek along the Inca Trail among other things. Some daughter/sister I am, huh? To forget about a trip like that? So she calls me from the airport a few hours before I'd planned on calling her with THE NEWS and I couldn't tell her; the timing was all wrong, we could barely here each other. They will get back shortly before my ultrasound, so maybe I'll just call after that, either way.
The ultrasound is scheduled for two and a half days before the Harry Potter release. I know that for any normal person, this would not be a conflict of interest. Have I EVER claimed normalcy? Normal is overrated. I am afraid that if it's good news (you know, there's a baby with a heartbeat and etc) it will overshadow THE BOOK. What if I can't concentrate, due to overwhelming joy/happiness? On the other hand if it's bad news, it could poison the whole HPexperience! I guess I'll just have to set the whole pregnancy aside for a bit, to read.
And, Don will be out of town on a business trip then, so he can't come with me; I'll have to call him afterwards. I couldn't have picked a worse time, but waiting even another week to know what's going on in there would kill me, which would totally defeat the purpose. Honestly, if I could just take a nap and wake up on the 18th to go to the doctor's, that would be great. Right now I need to go eat something... again.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Yada yada yada
Still not much going on. Pregnancy takes over my mind, so that everything else seems unimportant and therefore not worth writing about. Had this overwhelming anxiety the last few nights, not a rational anxiety, like "OMG I don't want another miscarriage", but this kind of free-form, random, non-specific anxiety, like the whole world was just crashing in on me. I am usually pretty even-keeled so I don't know what it is. Pregnancy? The extra hormones? The combination? Who knows.
I don't feel very pregnant yet. It's probably not good, that the only personal comparison I have is a pregnancy that didn't work out. It's strange to be pregnant twice in the course of 4 months. Makes it too easy to compare/contrast, with no time in between. It's not that I want to feel miserable, but it would be a relief to get some of the morning sickness or whatever that indicates a real live pregnancy. I want to know what's going on in there, to feel pregnant in my body instead of just in my brain, where crazy emotions are making me nuts.
Work = normal. House= wreck. Me= tired and grumpy and trying to snap out of it.
I don't feel very pregnant yet. It's probably not good, that the only personal comparison I have is a pregnancy that didn't work out. It's strange to be pregnant twice in the course of 4 months. Makes it too easy to compare/contrast, with no time in between. It's not that I want to feel miserable, but it would be a relief to get some of the morning sickness or whatever that indicates a real live pregnancy. I want to know what's going on in there, to feel pregnant in my body instead of just in my brain, where crazy emotions are making me nuts.
Work = normal. House= wreck. Me= tired and grumpy and trying to snap out of it.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
So Far...
It's good.
The pregnancy.
So far, anyways.
HCG is good, at least.
Progesterone went down between the two tests (which is bad, for you novices), so I'm getting a supplement for that. It's something that can be fixed, ammended. It could explain what went wrong last time, which makes me sad. Sad, because with a miscarriage the odds are that the embryo was fatally flawed and couldn't develop but there's also a chance that it's the mother. I had thought that (statistically speaking) my little grain of rice was too damaged to live, but now I am thinking that perhaps it was perfect but my imperfect body smushed into nothingness.
The results reaffirm my decision to get these tests done ASAP-- ends justifying means etc. It makes me forgive the awful hospital nurse (or possibly someone masquerading in ugly scubs) who attacked my veins this morning and then blamed me for her inablity to find my veins. Peace, bad-nurse lady, I no longer care.
The pregnancy.
So far, anyways.
HCG is good, at least.
Progesterone went down between the two tests (which is bad, for you novices), so I'm getting a supplement for that. It's something that can be fixed, ammended. It could explain what went wrong last time, which makes me sad. Sad, because with a miscarriage the odds are that the embryo was fatally flawed and couldn't develop but there's also a chance that it's the mother. I had thought that (statistically speaking) my little grain of rice was too damaged to live, but now I am thinking that perhaps it was perfect but my imperfect body smushed into nothingness.
The results reaffirm my decision to get these tests done ASAP-- ends justifying means etc. It makes me forgive the awful hospital nurse (or possibly someone masquerading in ugly scubs) who attacked my veins this morning and then blamed me for her inablity to find my veins. Peace, bad-nurse lady, I no longer care.
Manners
A doctor's office should not call someone and leave a message that says nothing except,
They should always say WHY. Or whether it's important. Or something. Because even though I was diligently checking my phone every hour, I missed it and couldn't call back until after they closed.
Is it, "Please call back, everything is fine."? "Please call back, we need to get some information from you"? Or "Please call back, you're on the way to another miscarriage", or "Please call back, we have no idea why you think you're pregnant and are referring you to a psychiatrist instead"? Darn it, these people should know that I'm neurotic and fragile, and sitting here counting the minutes until they open back up for the morning. I think I know what it is, because they never asked for my date-of-first-day-of-last-monthly-period-- what I call the start-date-- and without that date, the quantitative numbers from the lab work won't mean a whole lot. But they could have mentioned that in the voicemail and saved me the trouble of staying up late at night, imagining all the different phone conversations we could be having shortly...
"Hi Mara, this is the such-and-such OB-GYN offices-- could you give us a call back at ___=____?"
They should always say WHY. Or whether it's important. Or something. Because even though I was diligently checking my phone every hour, I missed it and couldn't call back until after they closed.
Is it, "Please call back, everything is fine."? "Please call back, we need to get some information from you"? Or "Please call back, you're on the way to another miscarriage", or "Please call back, we have no idea why you think you're pregnant and are referring you to a psychiatrist instead"? Darn it, these people should know that I'm neurotic and fragile, and sitting here counting the minutes until they open back up for the morning. I think I know what it is, because they never asked for my date-of-first-day-of-last-monthly-period-- what I call the start-date-- and without that date, the quantitative numbers from the lab work won't mean a whole lot. But they could have mentioned that in the voicemail and saved me the trouble of staying up late at night, imagining all the different phone conversations we could be having shortly...
Monday, June 18, 2007
Reassured
I called the nurse-practitioner as planned, panicked as predicted. She is very calming and I am going in for blood work tomorrow and Thursday. So that's all good I guess. Proactive at least. They can check my progesterone levels and supplement if it's low, and do a quantitative hgc-- you know, to make sure that I'm really preggers as opposed to completely delusional. Although it would be hard to illusion waking up at six in the morning absolutely starving. And simultaneously nauseous! Let the fun and games begin! Right now I feel that I'd rather be miserable than asymptomatic-- more symptoms= more hormones= better, right? Anyways.
Driving home from darts last night:
Don: Speed up, hon. You're going five miles under the speed limit now... We're going to get pulled over if you don't get up to speed.
Me: The car slows down when I'm tired. It understands me.
Don: Great. We're being passed by a scooter.
Me: Clearly a motorcycle. Not a scooter.
Don: Scooter
Me: Motorcycle!
Don: SCOOTER!
Me : MOTORCYCLE!
Repeat as needed until we come up behind the scooter at a red light. But you know, if he wants to drive home from the bar he's more than welcome to drink water like me...
Driving home from darts last night:
Don: Speed up, hon. You're going five miles under the speed limit now... We're going to get pulled over if you don't get up to speed.
Me: The car slows down when I'm tired. It understands me.
Don: Great. We're being passed by a scooter.
Me: Clearly a motorcycle. Not a scooter.
Don: Scooter
Me: Motorcycle!
Don: SCOOTER!
Me : MOTORCYCLE!
Repeat as needed until we come up behind the scooter at a red light. But you know, if he wants to drive home from the bar he's more than welcome to drink water like me...
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Brain Leakage
Well, aren't you all my fellow-geek-friends! Except the passage is not from The Two Towers but from Return of the King, when Eomer discovers that his sister is actually still alive, but gravely ill; he thought that she had died in battle. At once, he is full of hope but also the renewed fear that she might yet die.
Which is basically how I feel, being pregnant again: full of hope and fear. I have peed on four home test sticks and three of them agree-- the first was a dud. I want to get a clinical test done, to make sure 100% that it actually *is* pregnancy and not remnant hormones from the last go-round. But leftover hormones wouldn't explain the myriad indicators of pregnancy that I'm experiencing, which seem to be coming on sooner this time than last time. Is it because I know what to look for now, or because every pregnancy is different? I just can't feel the unalloyed joy and excitement that I felt in March; I'm too worried, too scared. Too experienced. I think that what I lost with the miscarriage was not just an embryo so much as it was my innocence and naivete.
Before, I was scared of miscarrying in a kind of vague, abstract way; I never really believed that it could happen to me. Who does? Who can? Now I know what can happen, and a successful pregnancy seems like such a theoretical concept. Not so much I'm pregnant-- there will be a baby in November! as, I'm pregnant again, I wonder if this one will pan out. The timing worked out perfectly in that I got to give Don the news on his birthday (I even bought the special tests with the digital readouts: PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT, because last time he couldn't read the test), but it was a bit of, Honey we're pregnant again, but don't get your hopes up, OK?
One thing I learned afterwards was that everybody and their mama has had miscarriages. Anyone that found out about mine would make a point of telling me how normal it is. Apparently, almost everyone I work with has had one; my friends, even my mom. What seemed like an isolated event suddenly felt like a secret epidemic; I started to feel that miscarriage was at least as common as not. I know the old cliche that misery loves company, and women have told me that after a miscarriage the last thing they wanted to see was a pregnant woman, or a new mother with a tiny baby. For me it was the opposite; I needed to see them, to hear their stories and read their blogs. I didn't and don't want miscarriage stories, I wanted to see, read about, or hear about healthy, normal pregnancy. I want to reassure myself that most of the time, getting pregnant equals having baby. That the system really does work. That women all over the place are staying pregnant without a second thought about it. Tell me that you had a miscarriage, only if you promptly went on to have a baby. Give me hope, not sympathetic company.
Tomorrow I will call the nurse, to find out if there are tests that can be done at this point. I never did get my progesterone levels tested; the honeymoon got in the way. I have no idea if they can still test them in early pregnancy, or if it would even make a difference at that point. Would it be too late? I will leave a long, rambling, panicked voice mail for her, and she will call me back and (I hope) calm me down and straighten me out. She told me that women tend to be especially fertile right after a miscarriage, for the several months or so following. I think I'm proving her right.
Don is telling me, of course, not to worry and panic and obsess over what I can't control. And of course he's right. What am I trying to do with this worrying; prove to the universe how much I want to hang on to this baby? I don't think it works like that. I must borrow a page from AA and steal their Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference.
...and adapt it a bit. I can control my diet, my exercise, how much sleep I get, and my state of mind (to a certain extent). I can take my vitamins; talk to my practitioner; eat the veggies that are overflowing the fridge; fill the freezer with nourishing meals; take Alice on a long, long walk; go cold-turkey on the coffee; make my house a clean and comfortable haven. I cannot control what happens with this pregnancy; I cannot control whether I miscarry again or go on to have a baby. I will focus on what I can do, wait and see on the rest, and stop with the worry and panic. (And if anyone that knows me believes that this is possible: hahahahahaha. But I will try.) And on that note, I should go walk the dog and do a load of laundry.
Oh, and speaking of God:
Which is basically how I feel, being pregnant again: full of hope and fear. I have peed on four home test sticks and three of them agree-- the first was a dud. I want to get a clinical test done, to make sure 100% that it actually *is* pregnancy and not remnant hormones from the last go-round. But leftover hormones wouldn't explain the myriad indicators of pregnancy that I'm experiencing, which seem to be coming on sooner this time than last time. Is it because I know what to look for now, or because every pregnancy is different? I just can't feel the unalloyed joy and excitement that I felt in March; I'm too worried, too scared. Too experienced. I think that what I lost with the miscarriage was not just an embryo so much as it was my innocence and naivete.
Before, I was scared of miscarrying in a kind of vague, abstract way; I never really believed that it could happen to me. Who does? Who can? Now I know what can happen, and a successful pregnancy seems like such a theoretical concept. Not so much I'm pregnant-- there will be a baby in November! as, I'm pregnant again, I wonder if this one will pan out. The timing worked out perfectly in that I got to give Don the news on his birthday (I even bought the special tests with the digital readouts: PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT, because last time he couldn't read the test), but it was a bit of, Honey we're pregnant again, but don't get your hopes up, OK?
One thing I learned afterwards was that everybody and their mama has had miscarriages. Anyone that found out about mine would make a point of telling me how normal it is. Apparently, almost everyone I work with has had one; my friends, even my mom. What seemed like an isolated event suddenly felt like a secret epidemic; I started to feel that miscarriage was at least as common as not. I know the old cliche that misery loves company, and women have told me that after a miscarriage the last thing they wanted to see was a pregnant woman, or a new mother with a tiny baby. For me it was the opposite; I needed to see them, to hear their stories and read their blogs. I didn't and don't want miscarriage stories, I wanted to see, read about, or hear about healthy, normal pregnancy. I want to reassure myself that most of the time, getting pregnant equals having baby. That the system really does work. That women all over the place are staying pregnant without a second thought about it. Tell me that you had a miscarriage, only if you promptly went on to have a baby. Give me hope, not sympathetic company.
Tomorrow I will call the nurse, to find out if there are tests that can be done at this point. I never did get my progesterone levels tested; the honeymoon got in the way. I have no idea if they can still test them in early pregnancy, or if it would even make a difference at that point. Would it be too late? I will leave a long, rambling, panicked voice mail for her, and she will call me back and (I hope) calm me down and straighten me out. She told me that women tend to be especially fertile right after a miscarriage, for the several months or so following. I think I'm proving her right.
Don is telling me, of course, not to worry and panic and obsess over what I can't control. And of course he's right. What am I trying to do with this worrying; prove to the universe how much I want to hang on to this baby? I don't think it works like that. I must borrow a page from AA and steal their Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference.
...and adapt it a bit. I can control my diet, my exercise, how much sleep I get, and my state of mind (to a certain extent). I can take my vitamins; talk to my practitioner; eat the veggies that are overflowing the fridge; fill the freezer with nourishing meals; take Alice on a long, long walk; go cold-turkey on the coffee; make my house a clean and comfortable haven. I cannot control what happens with this pregnancy; I cannot control whether I miscarry again or go on to have a baby. I will focus on what I can do, wait and see on the rest, and stop with the worry and panic. (And if anyone that knows me believes that this is possible: hahahahahaha. But I will try.) And on that note, I should go walk the dog and do a load of laundry.
Oh, and speaking of God:
 |
Which is the right religion for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com
Haha, you win, Amanda-- I am more pagan than Jewish! What an interesting state of affairs. But I guess that as the product of a Jew-turned-Atheist and a Catholic-turned-Jew it does make sense in a way.
Learned yesterday: If you hike up to a well-known swimming hole in the mountains and discover that you have the place to yourself, it's probably because the water (which is mostly snow run-off) is still icy-cold and will turn you numb in about ten seconds, to the point where even an hour later you are still cold. But it's still a great way to spend someone's birthday.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Hope and Fear
"Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Eomer's heart, and with it the bite of care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall."
10 Geekpoints for naming the source of the above.
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