At this week's childbirth class, we got to learn about all kinds of interventions, what's considered routine at the hospital, and when each one might happen. I probably should have realized this beforehand, but it would have been useful to have some kind of warning about how intense the class would be. And how if you're prone to anxiety and worry, you shouldn't come to class unless you've had a xanax and a couple glasses of wine, because otherwise you'll convince yourself that EVERY intervention is inevitable and you're going to look like a power strip with all the cords and tubing coming off of you, and then you get to be crucified when you get a C-section because of a funny reading on the monitors. The pain meds were also discussed, which was probably meant to be reassuring to most of the women present, but any discussion, pictures, or descriptions of needles going into the spinal area gives me the heebie-jeebies, so it certainly didn't make me feel any better. Besides, I consider pain meds an intervention that I want to avoid unless I'm no longer able to function during active labor and won't have the strength to push when it comes time for that.
The whole thing probably wasn't helped by the appointment we had that same day, in which I learned that I get to have another ultrasound, but this time with a perinatologist in a high-risk diagnostic center. Uh, say what? Apparently this is just to get a specialized growth estimate to see if she's growing too fast, but use the words high-risk and alarm bells tend to go off with me. Andy and I were discussing whether this was going to be worth doing from a financial standpoint, and I explained to him that if Brianna was growing faster than she should, that it would be better for me to be induced a week or two early than to risk a C-section after 40 weeks if she became too large for my pelvis. Which also meant my head was wrapped around those two possibilities for my labor experience going into class, which really didn't help things. To top it all off, she was breech lay, so she definitely hasn't dropped. If she stays like that or goes back to that at every appointment, we'll get to go back to the high-risk center so the perinatologist can attempt an external version, also known as poking and prodding to get Brianna pissed off enough that she turns on her own. [Spell-check thinks I want to call the specialist a paleontologist, but if she goes so overdue that I need one of those, then I think I'll take a C-section after all, thank you very much.]
Adding to the general unease of the day, I asked the doctor about a little lump I had found in my breast, and after feeling it and asking a couple questions about my bra, tells me to stop wearing underwire bras and gives me a referral to get a sonogram of my boob. I was hoping I would get a nice reassuring response like "Oh, that's just [insert innocuous explanation that makes me feel silly for bringing it up in the first place]. You'll be fine." Instead, I have been given the death sentence of having to wear a grandma bra (good-bye sex life and supported breasts, hello sagginess and over-obvious nipples) while being told that an underwire-free bra is actually more supportive anyway. She lied. I got some this weekend, and my poor boobs are definitely an inch or two lower now. It's like a bad sports bra with less mesh, so I have a bit of a uniboob too. I ordered a nursing bra while I was shopping, so we'll see what that turns out to be like.
Bitching aside, there are a few things that are reassuring. When I'm on the external monitor, I can keep using a birthing ball or sit in a chair instead of being forced to lay down. Continuous fetal monitoring isn't standard, and neither is an IV. Internal exams are done every few hours or when the toleration of contractions seems to change, since that tends to signal a changing phase of labor. I can take Primrose Oil to avoid going overdue, and I can try acupuncture (which is covered by my insurance) to jump-start labor as well. No matter what, I won't have to go through having my membranes stripped, because they just don't do it since it's rarely effective. There is always a doctor and a midwife on shift, so I won't have anyone rushing me because they want to make it home in time for dinner. Just hand me off to the next attendant and we'll all be fine.
Brianna is now almost 4 pounds and 19 inches long, though I guess I'll have a more official estimate on Thursday. She still has room to move around, but it's definitely more cramped. A couple days ago, she was kicking me so hard that you could see the outline of her foot on my abdomen, and let's just say I'm pretty sure she'll have my feet. Sorry Little One, I guess we should have gone with Bigfoot as your nickname after all. She's putting on more fat and her skin is becoming less translucent (the pregnancy books aren't doing a good job of convincing me that I'm not just incubating an alien). Last night Andy had his hand on my belly to feel what she was up to, and he gave a little squeeze to get a better idea of what part he was feeling. Well, she kicked back. Not a sharp kick, just a little playful movement in return. So he did it again, and she moved against his hand again. It was so sweet seeing him get so excited to feel her move in response to something he did, especially on Valentine's Day. Just a few more weeks to go!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Week 31 - Attack of the Heartburn, and Why You Shouldn't Tempt Fate
So far, I've had a relatively easy pregnancy, all things considered. People would ask, "Are you dealing with this? Is that giving you a hard time?" And in my infinite foolishness, I would respond with "Oh no, that hasn't been a problem at all. I guess I'm just lucky!" Well, Murphy's Law tells us that this is an excellent way to immediately be bombarded with something.
And that something is Heartburn. With a capital H. And fireworks, and 27 out-of-tune tubas. Because that is just how over the top and obnoxious Heartburn has been lately. I had minor problems with heartburn after eating marinara in the first trimester, but we figured it out pretty quickly, I stayed away for the most part, and eventually I ate it again without problems. But we had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner last weekend because it sounded really good. Big mistake. Heartburn all night, and because it was the only option for Monday's lunch, I took leftovers. Which meant more Heartburn. Then the next night I made a Latin-spiced chickpea dish and tasted one of the chickpeas to be sure I got the seasoning right. I discovered that I might have put a tad too much cayenne in, and immediately was graced with more Heartburn. So it looks like our menu rotation will be changing soon to take out the spicy and/or acidic stuff, at least for the next two months. Which is no fun, because I love spicy food.
In other news, the Cinnabon was FABULOUS. Absolutely delish, especially washed down with a perfectly sweet-tart lemonade. Until it gave me heartburn. Luckily, that craving has been nicely satisfied, so I think I'll be good until I go home to California in a couple weeks. Either way, I'll be having my mom's cinnamon rolls, or failing that, a Cinnabon at the airport. And I get to have In-N-Out when I arrive, which is just awesome. A double-double animal style, paired with a chocolate shake. So. Damn. Good. And I can have it without worry because the 3-hour glucose test came back okay. One of the levels came back high, but that just means I have to be careful with what I eat instead of stabbing myself every few hours.
Brianna is now a whopping three and a half pounds and measures around 18 inches, give or take a smidge. Her brain is in high gear development, so I'll be loading up on eggs and flaxseed now (Omega-3's: nature's wonder food). She's filling out and getting fat on her body so she can keep herself warm, which means she'll look less and less like a hairy Bigfoot when she's born. What she might look like instead is a synchronized swimmer. As she gets bigger, she has less room to move, so I'm getting less of the big kicks (good for my bladder) and more sweeping and stretching motions. One night it felt like she was practicing somersaults and then gave a rousing rendition of YMCA.
We're starting to wonder if she's dropped now since she's in the head-down position most of the time. There seems to be a bit more room in my chest, and my belly seems a little low. Or it could just be that with her being head first she keeps her legs tucked more often than not, and I just carry low in general. But I'm definitely having to pee way more often. Sometimes every hour, occasionally even more often. Sleeping is becoming a pain because I wake up every couple hours and have to hoist myself out of bed despite the fact that my hips are stiff. She's putting a lot of pressure on my pelvis too, which doesn't help with the hip situation and makes it feel like I have a bowling ball resting on my cervix. Which is scary when I think about it, because I know her weight is going double, if not quite triple. It's going to be a long two months.
And that something is Heartburn. With a capital H. And fireworks, and 27 out-of-tune tubas. Because that is just how over the top and obnoxious Heartburn has been lately. I had minor problems with heartburn after eating marinara in the first trimester, but we figured it out pretty quickly, I stayed away for the most part, and eventually I ate it again without problems. But we had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner last weekend because it sounded really good. Big mistake. Heartburn all night, and because it was the only option for Monday's lunch, I took leftovers. Which meant more Heartburn. Then the next night I made a Latin-spiced chickpea dish and tasted one of the chickpeas to be sure I got the seasoning right. I discovered that I might have put a tad too much cayenne in, and immediately was graced with more Heartburn. So it looks like our menu rotation will be changing soon to take out the spicy and/or acidic stuff, at least for the next two months. Which is no fun, because I love spicy food.
In other news, the Cinnabon was FABULOUS. Absolutely delish, especially washed down with a perfectly sweet-tart lemonade. Until it gave me heartburn. Luckily, that craving has been nicely satisfied, so I think I'll be good until I go home to California in a couple weeks. Either way, I'll be having my mom's cinnamon rolls, or failing that, a Cinnabon at the airport. And I get to have In-N-Out when I arrive, which is just awesome. A double-double animal style, paired with a chocolate shake. So. Damn. Good. And I can have it without worry because the 3-hour glucose test came back okay. One of the levels came back high, but that just means I have to be careful with what I eat instead of stabbing myself every few hours.
Brianna is now a whopping three and a half pounds and measures around 18 inches, give or take a smidge. Her brain is in high gear development, so I'll be loading up on eggs and flaxseed now (Omega-3's: nature's wonder food). She's filling out and getting fat on her body so she can keep herself warm, which means she'll look less and less like a hairy Bigfoot when she's born. What she might look like instead is a synchronized swimmer. As she gets bigger, she has less room to move, so I'm getting less of the big kicks (good for my bladder) and more sweeping and stretching motions. One night it felt like she was practicing somersaults and then gave a rousing rendition of YMCA.
We're starting to wonder if she's dropped now since she's in the head-down position most of the time. There seems to be a bit more room in my chest, and my belly seems a little low. Or it could just be that with her being head first she keeps her legs tucked more often than not, and I just carry low in general. But I'm definitely having to pee way more often. Sometimes every hour, occasionally even more often. Sleeping is becoming a pain because I wake up every couple hours and have to hoist myself out of bed despite the fact that my hips are stiff. She's putting a lot of pressure on my pelvis too, which doesn't help with the hip situation and makes it feel like I have a bowling ball resting on my cervix. Which is scary when I think about it, because I know her weight is going double, if not quite triple. It's going to be a long two months.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The Cinnabon Escapade
So in my excitement over wanting cinnamon rolls, I hit publish instead of save, and didn't notice it right away. Instead of editing the post, I'll share with you the exciting adventure that was Tuesday afternoon.
So cinnamon rolls got me thinking, the absolute best place to get a cinnamon roll is Cinnabon. That gooey filling and almost-but-not-quite underbaked dough, slathered with enough cream cheese frosting to cover a dozen carrot cake cupcakes and give you an instant cavity. Oh yes. I wanted one. So I pondered and considered the merits of getting the satisfaction of a perfect sugarcoma-inducing Cinnabon against said sugar-coma that was sure to come, and realized this would be a really, really bad idea if my glucose testing numbers came back high. So I came up with the logical conclusion to share it with Andy so he can have a sugar-coma too and called him to beg him to take me to the mall to get one on our way home from work.
Being the logical person that he is, he reminds me that the Cinnabon might have been closed, so maybe check before we drive out there. I giddily spring over to the Cinnabon website and discover that not only is there no longer one open at the mall, there also aren't any within a 10 mile radius of our house (which is ridiculously far in DC), unless you count the airport one. Defeated by distance, I sadly emailed Andy to tell him that he wouldn't have to stop. My one consolation was the possibility of getting one when I flew out to California next month.
My crushing disappointment was soon over when I remembered that the Cinnabon is outside of security at Sacramento airport, so I might get lucky with Reagan too. A quick search of the interactive map to the goodness available in Reagan (recently checked out to see dinner options for my sister's flight back home) revealed that Cinnabon was in fact, within my reach. Mere steps from the doors in Terminal B.
I put on my best persuasively cute voice and called up Andy to tell him my fantastic find and gee, the airport is right on our route home and it's just inside the doors and I could run in real quick to just get a little something. CINNABON, honey! Can't you feel my excitement?! Being the sweet husband that he is, he agrees and eventually we head home while I'm salivating like a dog with rabies.
As would be expected, the other route we would take home were I not obsessing about my impending cinnamon roll has no traffic while our path is full of morons who can't figure out the difference between the gas and the brake. But we bravely soldiered on, rolling slowly (and suddenly braking as people decide to change lanes last minute) towards the yellow brick road to satisfaction. Eventually we get to the airport, and I tell Andy to drop me off at these doors, that looks like roughly where I want to go but I'll meet you downstairs because oops, we're at ticketing, and that's definitely not right.
I find an elevator right inside and go down two floors. To baggage claim. Which clearly isn't right because there is no food here. I walk along trying to see if the stores mentioned on the map are perhaps further down. Nope. I keep going until I find another escalator and head back up to the next floor. Ah yes, there's the overpriced bookstore by which I had oriented myself on the map. It must be right past this. Okay, maybe a little further. Okay, I guess this store is bigger than I thought. For the love of God, how big is this place, I just want to find the....oh, there it is.
I saunter up the counter, wallet in hand for the procurement of utter deliciousness. A counter which is devoid of any human presence. I glance around wondering if the person just ran off to do...something, and then I saw it. That cheery little sign announcing "We'll return at 5!" It was 4:47 according to the Arrivals board, but I really didn't want Andy to go crazy driving in circles. And of course, my cell phone was dead, so I couldn't just tell him I would be waiting.
Defeated and thoroughly lacking in Cinnabon goodness, I trudged back out to the pick-up zone. Luckily I had timed that part perfectly, and he drove up immediately, with a confused expression for my lack of Cinnabon. So I still haven't had Cinnabon, though we're planning on going shopping today at a mall that has one. With my luck, they will run out and I just have to make my own damn cinnamon rolls.
So cinnamon rolls got me thinking, the absolute best place to get a cinnamon roll is Cinnabon. That gooey filling and almost-but-not-quite underbaked dough, slathered with enough cream cheese frosting to cover a dozen carrot cake cupcakes and give you an instant cavity. Oh yes. I wanted one. So I pondered and considered the merits of getting the satisfaction of a perfect sugarcoma-inducing Cinnabon against said sugar-coma that was sure to come, and realized this would be a really, really bad idea if my glucose testing numbers came back high. So I came up with the logical conclusion to share it with Andy so he can have a sugar-coma too and called him to beg him to take me to the mall to get one on our way home from work.
Being the logical person that he is, he reminds me that the Cinnabon might have been closed, so maybe check before we drive out there. I giddily spring over to the Cinnabon website and discover that not only is there no longer one open at the mall, there also aren't any within a 10 mile radius of our house (which is ridiculously far in DC), unless you count the airport one. Defeated by distance, I sadly emailed Andy to tell him that he wouldn't have to stop. My one consolation was the possibility of getting one when I flew out to California next month.
My crushing disappointment was soon over when I remembered that the Cinnabon is outside of security at Sacramento airport, so I might get lucky with Reagan too. A quick search of the interactive map to the goodness available in Reagan (recently checked out to see dinner options for my sister's flight back home) revealed that Cinnabon was in fact, within my reach. Mere steps from the doors in Terminal B.
I put on my best persuasively cute voice and called up Andy to tell him my fantastic find and gee, the airport is right on our route home and it's just inside the doors and I could run in real quick to just get a little something. CINNABON, honey! Can't you feel my excitement?! Being the sweet husband that he is, he agrees and eventually we head home while I'm salivating like a dog with rabies.
As would be expected, the other route we would take home were I not obsessing about my impending cinnamon roll has no traffic while our path is full of morons who can't figure out the difference between the gas and the brake. But we bravely soldiered on, rolling slowly (and suddenly braking as people decide to change lanes last minute) towards the yellow brick road to satisfaction. Eventually we get to the airport, and I tell Andy to drop me off at these doors, that looks like roughly where I want to go but I'll meet you downstairs because oops, we're at ticketing, and that's definitely not right.
I find an elevator right inside and go down two floors. To baggage claim. Which clearly isn't right because there is no food here. I walk along trying to see if the stores mentioned on the map are perhaps further down. Nope. I keep going until I find another escalator and head back up to the next floor. Ah yes, there's the overpriced bookstore by which I had oriented myself on the map. It must be right past this. Okay, maybe a little further. Okay, I guess this store is bigger than I thought. For the love of God, how big is this place, I just want to find the....oh, there it is.
I saunter up the counter, wallet in hand for the procurement of utter deliciousness. A counter which is devoid of any human presence. I glance around wondering if the person just ran off to do...something, and then I saw it. That cheery little sign announcing "We'll return at 5!" It was 4:47 according to the Arrivals board, but I really didn't want Andy to go crazy driving in circles. And of course, my cell phone was dead, so I couldn't just tell him I would be waiting.
Defeated and thoroughly lacking in Cinnabon goodness, I trudged back out to the pick-up zone. Luckily I had timed that part perfectly, and he drove up immediately, with a confused expression for my lack of Cinnabon. So I still haven't had Cinnabon, though we're planning on going shopping today at a mall that has one. With my luck, they will run out and I just have to make my own damn cinnamon rolls.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Week 29 - Here We Go Again
It seems the third trimester is just a bit of a repeat of the first. The last few days have brought a return of morning sickness and constant peeing. It's a good thing we buy toilet paper at Costco because I would be running out on a weekly basis at the rate I'm going. And I know it's only going to get worse. Our childbirth class (which is awesome, more on that in a sec) showed us diagrams of what the body looks like at various stages of a pregnancy, and it's a little cramped now but at full term... it won't be pretty. I honestly have no idea how I am going to be eating, breathing, or going to the bathroom. And even when she drops, it will just get worse for my poor tiny bladder. But at least I'll be able to breathe!
The class is going great. Our instructor is a labor and delivery nurse who gets just the right blend of entertaining and informative. And she put out Oreos at our first class, which made her my hero for the week. There are 8 other couples in the class, due dates spread late March to mid April and a fairly even mix of boys and girls. There's one other couple who are aiming for an all natural birth, but I think I'm going to get good information about what kind of complications are more common with my doctor's office and what they tend to do to handle them, which also means we can make better choices to keep things as close to all natural/no interventions as possible. The relaxation techniques have been pretty good, we even used them after my glucose testing freak-out last week and it helped a ton. Some the breathing rhythms aren't really doing it for me, so that may take some trial and error to get me from what sounds like hyperventilating to just a slightly uptempo deep breathing pattern.
As for the glucose test, I found out from the nurse that my numbers had been just barely over the limit of what's considered normal, so chances are, with the improved diet and exercise I was maintaining the week before going in for round 2, I will be fine. (Thanks for the advice, Randi!) I'm a lot less worried, though I'll keep up with the better food since there really isn't any reason not to. I can afford to go with whole wheat flour and brown rice instead of the refined (and cheaper) stuff, and it's pretty much the same to cook with. Ideally we'll make it a change that sticks. It's a lot easier to keep it up when I have the choice to stray a bit instead of feeling forced to be good all the time. Now if I could just get my appetite back, I'd be set. Hard to say my diet is good or bad when nothing sounds good. Not even nutella, and that's clearly cause to go to the ER because something MUST be wrong with me. I had a baked potato for dinner last night, so I'm not starving, but when I checked my weight at the doctor's office, I had lost a couple pounds. Not good. Maybe I'll go back on my morning sickness diet of cereal and bean burritos for almost every meal. Not together though, I would never eat something that weird in one meal. It's not like I eat cinnamon rolls and pickles together.... oh wait. I have. Nothing says your pregnancy taste buds are weird like being able to surprise an ultrasound tech. Dammit, now I want cinnamon rolls.
The class is going great. Our instructor is a labor and delivery nurse who gets just the right blend of entertaining and informative. And she put out Oreos at our first class, which made her my hero for the week. There are 8 other couples in the class, due dates spread late March to mid April and a fairly even mix of boys and girls. There's one other couple who are aiming for an all natural birth, but I think I'm going to get good information about what kind of complications are more common with my doctor's office and what they tend to do to handle them, which also means we can make better choices to keep things as close to all natural/no interventions as possible. The relaxation techniques have been pretty good, we even used them after my glucose testing freak-out last week and it helped a ton. Some the breathing rhythms aren't really doing it for me, so that may take some trial and error to get me from what sounds like hyperventilating to just a slightly uptempo deep breathing pattern.
As for the glucose test, I found out from the nurse that my numbers had been just barely over the limit of what's considered normal, so chances are, with the improved diet and exercise I was maintaining the week before going in for round 2, I will be fine. (Thanks for the advice, Randi!) I'm a lot less worried, though I'll keep up with the better food since there really isn't any reason not to. I can afford to go with whole wheat flour and brown rice instead of the refined (and cheaper) stuff, and it's pretty much the same to cook with. Ideally we'll make it a change that sticks. It's a lot easier to keep it up when I have the choice to stray a bit instead of feeling forced to be good all the time. Now if I could just get my appetite back, I'd be set. Hard to say my diet is good or bad when nothing sounds good. Not even nutella, and that's clearly cause to go to the ER because something MUST be wrong with me. I had a baked potato for dinner last night, so I'm not starving, but when I checked my weight at the doctor's office, I had lost a couple pounds. Not good. Maybe I'll go back on my morning sickness diet of cereal and bean burritos for almost every meal. Not together though, I would never eat something that weird in one meal. It's not like I eat cinnamon rolls and pickles together.... oh wait. I have. Nothing says your pregnancy taste buds are weird like being able to surprise an ultrasound tech. Dammit, now I want cinnamon rolls.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Feeling a Bit Down
I was all set to right up the Birth Plan Version 2.0, but this afternoon I found out that I didn't pass my one-hour glucose test and need to go back in for a three-hour test. I'm taking it really hard for several reasons, most of which are a tad silly, if not downright absurd. I know most women who do the three-hour test do pass it, but this time I'm really anxious.
Part of this is probably that I felt kind of cocky after the last round of tests at 16 weeks. Ha, you silly doctors, I'm totally doing fine and there was no need for me to do this obnoxious test. But clearly I'm not doing so well now (in no small part due to candy from Christmas, I'd wager), so I get to go in and get my blood pulled every hour while I get crabby sitting in the waiting area. Oh, the joy. Compared to how I smoothly everything went that time, I just feel like a failure for not taking better care of myself, even though it's just a simple test at this point and not a definitive diagnosis.
So by now I've convinced myself that I do have gestational diabetes, which is the bigger part of my anxiety at the moment. I saw my mom go through it with my little brother, and I'm really not looking forward to anything that involves poking my finger to get blood several times a day. I also know that I would really struggle with the dietary restrictions, though in some ways it would be simple enough. I'm just so used to saying, I feel like having xyz, and if it's not too bad for me or at least has something to offer by way of nutrition (like the hot chocolate that has a serving of calcium), enjoying it. I don't do well feeling constrained, so I'd likely need help just figuring out how not to crave more sugar as a result of restricting myself. A coworker was trying to reassure me by saying "What's really the worst that would happen because of this?" and all I could come up with was "No more chocolate! How would I live?!"
Having GD would also be problematic for Brianna and I as the due date gets closer. Babies of moms with GD tend to grow bigger too fast, so I'd probably have to be induced early, which I really, really wanted to avoid. I'd probably have to go in for more ultrasounds (some of which Aetna has refused to pay, which sucks because I wasn't expecting to pay out another $300 on top of our expected bill) and go in more frequently to see the doctors. Then there's the whole immediately after birth situation, where Brianna could have a serious drop in blood sugar after she's no longer getting my too-high blood sugar levels and then suddenly getting her own blood to circulate. Long term, we'd both be at higher risk for regular diabetes.
So yeah, I'm in a kind of unhappy anxious mood. I don't like having to wait to get a final answer, but because of several work commitments most mornings, I will be waiting to retest until Friday and then probably won't hear back until the following week. The birth plan will probably get up here at some point...but definitely not tonight.
Part of this is probably that I felt kind of cocky after the last round of tests at 16 weeks. Ha, you silly doctors, I'm totally doing fine and there was no need for me to do this obnoxious test. But clearly I'm not doing so well now (in no small part due to candy from Christmas, I'd wager), so I get to go in and get my blood pulled every hour while I get crabby sitting in the waiting area. Oh, the joy. Compared to how I smoothly everything went that time, I just feel like a failure for not taking better care of myself, even though it's just a simple test at this point and not a definitive diagnosis.
So by now I've convinced myself that I do have gestational diabetes, which is the bigger part of my anxiety at the moment. I saw my mom go through it with my little brother, and I'm really not looking forward to anything that involves poking my finger to get blood several times a day. I also know that I would really struggle with the dietary restrictions, though in some ways it would be simple enough. I'm just so used to saying, I feel like having xyz, and if it's not too bad for me or at least has something to offer by way of nutrition (like the hot chocolate that has a serving of calcium), enjoying it. I don't do well feeling constrained, so I'd likely need help just figuring out how not to crave more sugar as a result of restricting myself. A coworker was trying to reassure me by saying "What's really the worst that would happen because of this?" and all I could come up with was "No more chocolate! How would I live?!"
Having GD would also be problematic for Brianna and I as the due date gets closer. Babies of moms with GD tend to grow bigger too fast, so I'd probably have to be induced early, which I really, really wanted to avoid. I'd probably have to go in for more ultrasounds (some of which Aetna has refused to pay, which sucks because I wasn't expecting to pay out another $300 on top of our expected bill) and go in more frequently to see the doctors. Then there's the whole immediately after birth situation, where Brianna could have a serious drop in blood sugar after she's no longer getting my too-high blood sugar levels and then suddenly getting her own blood to circulate. Long term, we'd both be at higher risk for regular diabetes.
So yeah, I'm in a kind of unhappy anxious mood. I don't like having to wait to get a final answer, but because of several work commitments most mornings, I will be waiting to retest until Friday and then probably won't hear back until the following week. The birth plan will probably get up here at some point...but definitely not tonight.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Week 27 - Getting Excited
Last week I had a moment of temporary panic as Andy pointed out that I was almost into my third trimester...and we had done practically nothing to get ready for the baby (hence last week's post about preparations). So I ordered several books (a couple were recommended by my CNM, another recommended in a forum, and the last one had been lent to me previously but I wanted a copy I could write all over and mark up for my own purposes) and they arrived on Friday. I pretty much spent the entire weekend leafing through them and getting a boatload of crap out of the office so we could turn it into a nursery. It was so overwhelming to start working in there, because it had basically become the room we just shove stuff into when it doesn't have a place, and I burst into tears after my second time getting popcorn peanuts all over the floor trying to empty boxes. Eventually we worked through most of the room and got a ton of stuff taken care of. And I'm not kidding about how much crap we removed. The equivalent of 4 Hefty bags of trash and another bag or two of stuff for Goodwill. We're working at getting over our pack-rat tendencies so I don't become a candidate for Hoarders, which I've never watched but the idea of the show itself is enough to creep me out so in actuality we're probably okay. Run-on sentences today, much?
Anywho, after all that reading I'm actually looking forward to going through labor and giving birth instead of being afraid of the big what-ifs. I have a much better sense of all the possibilities that might come up, so I can build a more detailed birth plan. For one thing, I feel better educated (just from the quick look-throughs) to know what I'll want to do if I get into a situation that I was hoping to avoid. After looking through everything, I can pass off the books to Andy and say "Read this chapter, especially right here, and don't bother with the other section because we already know who our doctor is and where I'm delivering." And then I can use my super-power of obsessiveness to make us talk it over even more and make sure he's comfortable with everything in the birth plan and run through it with the doctors too to make sure they won't have any issues with making it happen.
A couple of funny thoughts after looking through those books. For starters, it would be fantastic if these books got updated every decade or so. There's something creepy about seeing pictures of a couple used for illustrative purposes and joking with Andy that it could be my dad... and then calling my mom just to double-check. I'd like to think that these books aren't something my parents might have used when I was born... over twenty years ago. It's hard not to laugh at some of the fantastically '80s-style mustaches, but I also know that a lot of the practices that were discussed as "possible in some parts of the country but going out of favor in others" aren't even done any more. What else might I be missing by not having something current to look through? Then again, the last update of What to Expect includes the possibility of being shaved and given an enema before birth, which hasn't been standard for quite some time, so we'll probably be just fine. I guess they just have cover their bases for women giving birth at Podunk Hospital in No Man's Land in the South.
The other interesting thing about looking through the different books is seeing how they approach the same issues, the descriptions they use, and the positions they take on different issues. I figure if the same things come up again, I should pay attention because there's no bias here, just the truth. It makes it a lot easier to imagine what it will be like when I have a couple of points to base a comparison off of and to recognize where I'll stand on some issues based on how much I've agreed with the rest of the points. One of the books is extremely firm in it's anti-drug stance, and while that is my goal, I also like to know what the best pain relief option will be for me to rest up and get back to a minimal intervention birth in case I become exhausted well before I'm actually ready to push. Side note: I will probably need to bring in the patented Allie Brosh improved pain chart. Much better to reference a scale that means something if I'm in pain similar to a bear mauling.
Luckily we have our childbirth prep classes starting this week, which are supposed to cover some relaxation techniques, what to expect in general with the birth process, and possible interventions needed at the hospital. I think the most useful part of it is going to be getting familiar with the routine practices my office uses so I can include my feelings about them in my plan. It will also be great to meet some other parents who will have kids the same age as Brianna, and most of them will be first time parents as well. I also get to go in for my third trimester glucose tolerance test, where I drink syrup and get blood pulled after an hour. Hopefully I'll get enough figured out between the classes and meeting with the doctor (an OB/GYN this time) that I'll have a good birth plan to post on Friday.
Brianna is now two and a quarter pounds in weight, and measures almost 9 and three-quarters inches crown to rump or about 15 inches full body length. I notice all 15 inches the most when she seems to stretch out and press me from both ends. It's a great way to figure out how she's positioned, even if it does occasionally feel like I'm carrying an octopus instead of a human. She's also perfected giving me a 1-2 punch, which Andy got to feel yesterday. Her taste buds are fully formed, and it's possible that she might react to the foods I eat if they're spicy or pungent. I haven't really noticed this yet, but we're planning on a fusion style stir-fry with chipotles for dinner this weekend. If you hear any screams from my general vicinity, you'll know that Brianna is apparently not a fan of spicy food.
Anywho, after all that reading I'm actually looking forward to going through labor and giving birth instead of being afraid of the big what-ifs. I have a much better sense of all the possibilities that might come up, so I can build a more detailed birth plan. For one thing, I feel better educated (just from the quick look-throughs) to know what I'll want to do if I get into a situation that I was hoping to avoid. After looking through everything, I can pass off the books to Andy and say "Read this chapter, especially right here, and don't bother with the other section because we already know who our doctor is and where I'm delivering." And then I can use my super-power of obsessiveness to make us talk it over even more and make sure he's comfortable with everything in the birth plan and run through it with the doctors too to make sure they won't have any issues with making it happen.
A couple of funny thoughts after looking through those books. For starters, it would be fantastic if these books got updated every decade or so. There's something creepy about seeing pictures of a couple used for illustrative purposes and joking with Andy that it could be my dad... and then calling my mom just to double-check. I'd like to think that these books aren't something my parents might have used when I was born... over twenty years ago. It's hard not to laugh at some of the fantastically '80s-style mustaches, but I also know that a lot of the practices that were discussed as "possible in some parts of the country but going out of favor in others" aren't even done any more. What else might I be missing by not having something current to look through? Then again, the last update of What to Expect includes the possibility of being shaved and given an enema before birth, which hasn't been standard for quite some time, so we'll probably be just fine. I guess they just have cover their bases for women giving birth at Podunk Hospital in No Man's Land in the South.
The other interesting thing about looking through the different books is seeing how they approach the same issues, the descriptions they use, and the positions they take on different issues. I figure if the same things come up again, I should pay attention because there's no bias here, just the truth. It makes it a lot easier to imagine what it will be like when I have a couple of points to base a comparison off of and to recognize where I'll stand on some issues based on how much I've agreed with the rest of the points. One of the books is extremely firm in it's anti-drug stance, and while that is my goal, I also like to know what the best pain relief option will be for me to rest up and get back to a minimal intervention birth in case I become exhausted well before I'm actually ready to push. Side note: I will probably need to bring in the patented Allie Brosh improved pain chart. Much better to reference a scale that means something if I'm in pain similar to a bear mauling.
Luckily we have our childbirth prep classes starting this week, which are supposed to cover some relaxation techniques, what to expect in general with the birth process, and possible interventions needed at the hospital. I think the most useful part of it is going to be getting familiar with the routine practices my office uses so I can include my feelings about them in my plan. It will also be great to meet some other parents who will have kids the same age as Brianna, and most of them will be first time parents as well. I also get to go in for my third trimester glucose tolerance test, where I drink syrup and get blood pulled after an hour. Hopefully I'll get enough figured out between the classes and meeting with the doctor (an OB/GYN this time) that I'll have a good birth plan to post on Friday.
Brianna is now two and a quarter pounds in weight, and measures almost 9 and three-quarters inches crown to rump or about 15 inches full body length. I notice all 15 inches the most when she seems to stretch out and press me from both ends. It's a great way to figure out how she's positioned, even if it does occasionally feel like I'm carrying an octopus instead of a human. She's also perfected giving me a 1-2 punch, which Andy got to feel yesterday. Her taste buds are fully formed, and it's possible that she might react to the foods I eat if they're spicy or pungent. I haven't really noticed this yet, but we're planning on a fusion style stir-fry with chipotles for dinner this weekend. If you hear any screams from my general vicinity, you'll know that Brianna is apparently not a fan of spicy food.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Week 26 - Deep Thoughts Today
It never amazes me how many things we have to do to prepare for the great transitions in our lives. The unknown of setting off independently as adults. The merging of lives in a marriage. The new responsibilities that come with parenthood. The quieting down and relaxation of retirement. Each one brings an utter shift of priorities, dreams, goals, and routines, something new to navigate. A whole new identity.
Some of the things we do to prepare are mundane, and some involve profound decisions. Sometimes the decision to simply make the leap (or not) is the most monumental in the whole process. There are so many details, great and small, to see to and decisions we could not anticipate having to make. Some transitions are brief and simple, or thrust upon us with little time to prepare, while others we look forward to and plan for our entire lives. Each person lives through these moments uniquely, and how much time we have to prepare is a huge influence on the experience. I'm glad that my little girl has been a long time coming. I don't like to be pressured when facing new situations. I want time and space to approach things at my own pace, weigh my options, and procrastinate if I just feel like it (sadly, I do that a little too often). It's overwhelming at times, knowing I have register for stuff for Brianna's room and make a birth plan, and explain to the questioning why I don't want this or that.
I wonder how many of the details and decisions I've made for Brianna will still feel important to me during labor or year from now, or 20 years from now when she's grown up. Will I care whether or not I managed an unmedicated birth? Which exact shade was used to paint her room? Who holds her and soothes her the first time she wakes up in the middle of the night? So many of the details from our wedding seemed important at the time, the things we had to get right or risk not having the perfect day. Some things did make the day for me, like my bouquet with my dad's cross tucked among my favorite flowers. But I didn't need to waste so much time trying to place everyone just so at tables to ensure a good time was had by all and no fights broke out. I'm wise enough now to see that some things just don't come to pass the way we expect them to and to make plans knowing they will probably change. It makes it easier to accept the fluid nature of life, but it doesn't really help with the anxiety of decision making.
Despite the pressure of everything left to do, I can't help but think that these preparations are, to some extent, a way to channel the love and excitement we feel for this little girl we've never met. I'm feeling so introspective today because I've been touched by the experience of a woman in an online community I participate in. She had many problems early in her pregnancy and eventually found out that her daughter had a chromosomal abnormality and her life expectancy was, quite literally, slim to none. Knowing what she might be facing, she decided to carry on in the hopes that she might have just an hour with her baby. Eventually the big day came and the birth was fine. She got to have two full days with her daughter before she finally passed away. She was as prepared as one can be when you know time is short but don't know just how short it will be. I can't even fathom the kind of strength it takes to prepare for an unknown that ranged in possibility from never seeing your daughter alive to celebrating at least one birthday, if you're lucky. The funeral was held today for little Avery, and many of us in the community have worn bright colors (at her request) to honor the brightness and love this little girl brought to so many lives in such a short time.
Though it feels incredibly selfish to say so, I feel blessed to know that my daughter is growing well. I have a job that lets me put my child first without ruining my career, and a husband who wants to support me in every way possible and is even willing to indulge some of my irrational requests. I had the foresight to save enough money to cover my entire maternity leave, so I won't have to choose between paying bills and spending time with my daughter (at least as far as FMLA will cover). I have family and friends offering up all kinds of help. No matter what, I will never be alone as I go through this journey.
By now, Brianna weighs at least 2 pounds and measures about 9 and a quarter inches crown to rump. Basically, she's a chuck roast, as the ever inspiring What to Expect book put it. Baby. It's what for dinner. (sorry, I had to go there after such a deep/dark post.) Her eyes are open now, but so far the pigment in her irises hasn't formed enough to tell what color eyes she will have (probably green though, with my greenies and Andy's blues). Her heartbeat is supposed to be strong enough that someone could hear it just by listening with an ear pressed against my belly. We haven't tried it yet, but she's kicking enough that Andy can feel it even if he just has his back to my front in bed. She also kicks so hard that sometimes you can see my stomach move because of it. It looks like I have the hiccups, but really it's just her. Just one more week, and it will be down to the last trimester. I hope I have enough time for everything.
Some of the things we do to prepare are mundane, and some involve profound decisions. Sometimes the decision to simply make the leap (or not) is the most monumental in the whole process. There are so many details, great and small, to see to and decisions we could not anticipate having to make. Some transitions are brief and simple, or thrust upon us with little time to prepare, while others we look forward to and plan for our entire lives. Each person lives through these moments uniquely, and how much time we have to prepare is a huge influence on the experience. I'm glad that my little girl has been a long time coming. I don't like to be pressured when facing new situations. I want time and space to approach things at my own pace, weigh my options, and procrastinate if I just feel like it (sadly, I do that a little too often). It's overwhelming at times, knowing I have register for stuff for Brianna's room and make a birth plan, and explain to the questioning why I don't want this or that.
I wonder how many of the details and decisions I've made for Brianna will still feel important to me during labor or year from now, or 20 years from now when she's grown up. Will I care whether or not I managed an unmedicated birth? Which exact shade was used to paint her room? Who holds her and soothes her the first time she wakes up in the middle of the night? So many of the details from our wedding seemed important at the time, the things we had to get right or risk not having the perfect day. Some things did make the day for me, like my bouquet with my dad's cross tucked among my favorite flowers. But I didn't need to waste so much time trying to place everyone just so at tables to ensure a good time was had by all and no fights broke out. I'm wise enough now to see that some things just don't come to pass the way we expect them to and to make plans knowing they will probably change. It makes it easier to accept the fluid nature of life, but it doesn't really help with the anxiety of decision making.
Despite the pressure of everything left to do, I can't help but think that these preparations are, to some extent, a way to channel the love and excitement we feel for this little girl we've never met. I'm feeling so introspective today because I've been touched by the experience of a woman in an online community I participate in. She had many problems early in her pregnancy and eventually found out that her daughter had a chromosomal abnormality and her life expectancy was, quite literally, slim to none. Knowing what she might be facing, she decided to carry on in the hopes that she might have just an hour with her baby. Eventually the big day came and the birth was fine. She got to have two full days with her daughter before she finally passed away. She was as prepared as one can be when you know time is short but don't know just how short it will be. I can't even fathom the kind of strength it takes to prepare for an unknown that ranged in possibility from never seeing your daughter alive to celebrating at least one birthday, if you're lucky. The funeral was held today for little Avery, and many of us in the community have worn bright colors (at her request) to honor the brightness and love this little girl brought to so many lives in such a short time.
Though it feels incredibly selfish to say so, I feel blessed to know that my daughter is growing well. I have a job that lets me put my child first without ruining my career, and a husband who wants to support me in every way possible and is even willing to indulge some of my irrational requests. I had the foresight to save enough money to cover my entire maternity leave, so I won't have to choose between paying bills and spending time with my daughter (at least as far as FMLA will cover). I have family and friends offering up all kinds of help. No matter what, I will never be alone as I go through this journey.
By now, Brianna weighs at least 2 pounds and measures about 9 and a quarter inches crown to rump. Basically, she's a chuck roast, as the ever inspiring What to Expect book put it. Baby. It's what for dinner. (sorry, I had to go there after such a deep/dark post.) Her eyes are open now, but so far the pigment in her irises hasn't formed enough to tell what color eyes she will have (probably green though, with my greenies and Andy's blues). Her heartbeat is supposed to be strong enough that someone could hear it just by listening with an ear pressed against my belly. We haven't tried it yet, but she's kicking enough that Andy can feel it even if he just has his back to my front in bed. She also kicks so hard that sometimes you can see my stomach move because of it. It looks like I have the hiccups, but really it's just her. Just one more week, and it will be down to the last trimester. I hope I have enough time for everything.
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