Wow. Within a half hour, I had two separate requests for an update and realized that being away for this long is bound to spark imaginations.
So let me answer the basic questions: Yes, I am still pregnant. No, I am not having contractions. As of yesterday, I was 1 cm dilated and 50 percent effaced. My OB estimates the baby is about 7 1/2 pounds.
And, oh yeah, I’m a mess.
Now wait, before you go all panicky on me, let me preface this post by saying that there is nothing wrong with me or the baby (that I know of), and that life is basically status quo.
Except for my hormones. And my back spasms. And my pregnancy-induced carpel tunnel syndrome. And the fact that I burst into tears this morning at work, and, in fact, feel like crying just thinking about how I burst into tears.
I am a planner. So yes, waiting around to go into labor is rough. However, at least I can plan for the unplannable. I am ready to have to go to the hospital at a moment’s notice—or a few hours’ notice, more likely. Does that make sense?
This morning, however, my boss walked into my office and said that my hospital has a disaster drill planned for 5:15 p.m. tomorrow. They need a Public Information Officer to participate, and she’s not available. Could I do it?
I normally work 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Starting last week Wednesday, I conduct a children’s handbell choir at 6 p.m. on Wednesdays. I’ve been trying to get in as much time with them as possible before I go on “maternity leave” (which will probably amount to a few weeks with a different conductor).
So my boss brought in the other PR person to ask if at least one of us could do it. Technically, this is my job. But the idea of an unplanned late night at work and the prospect of having to find a replacement conductor at the last minute was enough to push me to almost-tears. My co-worker said she would do it (even though it’s an inconvenience for her, too), and I’m still feeling guilty about it. Hell, I’m crying even thinking about it.
Overreact much?
I am literally limping around the office because my lower back hurts so much. At home, I can’t do much more than lay around. While M is being wonderful about all of this, I hate having to ask him to do things that I would normally do. Under ordinary circumstances, we have a pretty darned good division of household tasks. But our house is filthy. So I had to ask him last night if he would be able to clean the house this weekend.
While I sit on my butt watching TV.
Honestly, I know I will only be 38 weeks on Thursday, but I am SOOO ready to have this baby.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Loss of innocence
The inquiries have started in earnest now: “Are you nervous and scared about labor and delivery? Do you know what you’re going to do about pain meds? Take the epidural! Is M ready to be a dad? Have you washed all the baby clothes yet?”
The funny part is, most of these people know part or all of Zach’s story. They’ve just sort of forgotten what we went through 10 months ago. And the answers to those questions?
“Well, I’m a little nervous, but I’ve sort of been through this before—albeit with a 14-ounce baby, not with a 7- or 8-pound baby. To tell you the truth, I’ll take physical pain over emotional pain any day.”
“Yes, I will be getting an epidural at some point in the labor; remember, I already had an epidural so I know what it’s like.”
“M already is a dad.”
No, I have washed nothing. I haven’t even unwrapped most of the baby stuff we’ve gotten. Some part of me is terrified our child will die and I’ll have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.
You know what’s weird? Sometimes, these days, the more excited people get, the more annoyed I get. At our last shower over the weekend, people kept on saying, “The next time I see you, you’ll have the baby!” And I feel the need, often, to reply, “Well, let’s just hope that everything goes OK.” I’ve lost my ability to assume the best.
I think the question that annoys me the most is, “Are you ready?” We’ve been ready for 2 ½ years.
Yes, I know I’m being picky. Or maybe I’m just hormonal. But for God’s sake, stop treating me like someone who’s naïve!
The funny part is, most of these people know part or all of Zach’s story. They’ve just sort of forgotten what we went through 10 months ago. And the answers to those questions?
“Well, I’m a little nervous, but I’ve sort of been through this before—albeit with a 14-ounce baby, not with a 7- or 8-pound baby. To tell you the truth, I’ll take physical pain over emotional pain any day.”
“Yes, I will be getting an epidural at some point in the labor; remember, I already had an epidural so I know what it’s like.”
“M already is a dad.”
No, I have washed nothing. I haven’t even unwrapped most of the baby stuff we’ve gotten. Some part of me is terrified our child will die and I’ll have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.
You know what’s weird? Sometimes, these days, the more excited people get, the more annoyed I get. At our last shower over the weekend, people kept on saying, “The next time I see you, you’ll have the baby!” And I feel the need, often, to reply, “Well, let’s just hope that everything goes OK.” I’ve lost my ability to assume the best.
I think the question that annoys me the most is, “Are you ready?” We’ve been ready for 2 ½ years.
Yes, I know I’m being picky. Or maybe I’m just hormonal. But for God’s sake, stop treating me like someone who’s naïve!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Me--an optimist?
I have officially crossed over to the other side.
Buh-bye, paranoia. Well...buh-bye, at least, to the most extreme kind of paranoia. A couple of days ago, I had to pull my car over on my way to work because of extreme dizziness and shortness of breath. I eventually made it to work, but after I got there I realized I wasn’t going to be able to function unless I laid down. A co-worker wheeled me down to Occupational Health (remember, I work in a hospital), but rather than just let me lie down, the bastards there sold me out and made me see my OB across the street.
Just as I suspected, all my vitals were fine; outwardly, nothing was wrong. My OB told me she suspected I was just experiencing positional shortness of breath. But because she, like the nurses in Occ Health, wanted to cover her ass, she told me that in the Worst Case Scenario, I had a blood clot in my lungs, and only a CAT scan would be able to tell for sure.
Would you believe that I declined?
I truly believe in my gut that I am just experiencing normal pregnancy symptoms. But I must say that I now understand why some people say the last month can suck. I am torn between my need to get work and life all tidily sewn up before my (hopefully) impending delivery, and my need to just lie on my butt and do nothing.
Why Ann (you might say), why don’t you just do nothing? You deserve it!
Well, see, it’s not that simple. I’m supposed to be working right up until I deliver unless I get a doctor’s note. And even if I were to procure one of those, it would mean my 12 weeks would start way early, which messes up a lot of plans. So for now, I’m still working 40 hours a week.
Plus, our favorite pastor at church – the one who was our greatest supporter when Zach died – is leaving for another church. She’s in charge of youth group, and since M and I regularly help out, we’re the most obvious choice to pick up the slack. Except, of course, for the fact that we’re having a baby. So we’re trying to make lots of preparations now so we can relax for a month after the baby comes. And we’re trying to organize the kids to make a goodbye collage for the pastor.
Whew. No wonder I burst into tears last night after driving 20 minutes through heavy construction to see the optometrist, getting my shoe caught on the door and ruining it, spending 15 minutes filling out stupid forms, then finding out my insurance doesn’t cover an exam until October 1. Um.
And yet.
As I drove home from the optometrist, muttering angrily to myself, I saw a F.lig.ht for L.ife helicopter cruising over me. And I thought about the hospital to which it was likely carrying a critically ill patient—the same hospital where I delivered Zach. And I considered how all my aches and pains and frustrations and exhaustion were absolutely nothing compared to the emotional devastation I experience 10 months ago.
And I felt blessed.
P.S. Thank you all for sending along your e-mails. I have had room for all on my list! I'll probably be going invite-only in about a week; watch for updates. (And e-mail me if I totally screw this up!)
Buh-bye, paranoia. Well...buh-bye, at least, to the most extreme kind of paranoia. A couple of days ago, I had to pull my car over on my way to work because of extreme dizziness and shortness of breath. I eventually made it to work, but after I got there I realized I wasn’t going to be able to function unless I laid down. A co-worker wheeled me down to Occupational Health (remember, I work in a hospital), but rather than just let me lie down, the bastards there sold me out and made me see my OB across the street.
Just as I suspected, all my vitals were fine; outwardly, nothing was wrong. My OB told me she suspected I was just experiencing positional shortness of breath. But because she, like the nurses in Occ Health, wanted to cover her ass, she told me that in the Worst Case Scenario, I had a blood clot in my lungs, and only a CAT scan would be able to tell for sure.
Would you believe that I declined?
I truly believe in my gut that I am just experiencing normal pregnancy symptoms. But I must say that I now understand why some people say the last month can suck. I am torn between my need to get work and life all tidily sewn up before my (hopefully) impending delivery, and my need to just lie on my butt and do nothing.
Why Ann (you might say), why don’t you just do nothing? You deserve it!
Well, see, it’s not that simple. I’m supposed to be working right up until I deliver unless I get a doctor’s note. And even if I were to procure one of those, it would mean my 12 weeks would start way early, which messes up a lot of plans. So for now, I’m still working 40 hours a week.
Plus, our favorite pastor at church – the one who was our greatest supporter when Zach died – is leaving for another church. She’s in charge of youth group, and since M and I regularly help out, we’re the most obvious choice to pick up the slack. Except, of course, for the fact that we’re having a baby. So we’re trying to make lots of preparations now so we can relax for a month after the baby comes. And we’re trying to organize the kids to make a goodbye collage for the pastor.
Whew. No wonder I burst into tears last night after driving 20 minutes through heavy construction to see the optometrist, getting my shoe caught on the door and ruining it, spending 15 minutes filling out stupid forms, then finding out my insurance doesn’t cover an exam until October 1. Um.
And yet.
As I drove home from the optometrist, muttering angrily to myself, I saw a F.lig.ht for L.ife helicopter cruising over me. And I thought about the hospital to which it was likely carrying a critically ill patient—the same hospital where I delivered Zach. And I considered how all my aches and pains and frustrations and exhaustion were absolutely nothing compared to the emotional devastation I experience 10 months ago.
And I felt blessed.
P.S. Thank you all for sending along your e-mails. I have had room for all on my list! I'll probably be going invite-only in about a week; watch for updates. (And e-mail me if I totally screw this up!)
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Humbled
Wow. There’s nothing like announcing that you’re going invite-only to bring out the masses.
Well. Relatively speaking. It’s not like I’ve had 300 people asking for an invite—which is a good thing, because apparently Blogger limits me to 100! But I have to admit it’s been an ego boost to hear from all of you—especially you lurkers. Honestly, I feel like I’m in an episode of “This is Your Life.” Or maybe an observer at my own funeral. (Too morbid?) I am so completely touched by some of the e-mails you have sent me, and I’m humbled that you want to follow along on my journey.
I’m sad, too, because by going invite-only, I’m inevitably turning this blog into a different animal. I love the fact that a heartbroken mom/mom-to-be/wanna-be-mom-to-be/wanted-to-be-mom-to-be who has a story somewhat similar to mine can find me on this newfangled thing we call the Web. For that same reason, however (and many others) I have to protect my privacy. My greatest source of support could become my nightmare if I’m not careful. I prefer that this blog continue to be read by virtual strangers (that’s you guys!) rather than risk someone I know stumbling across it.
Now down to business: Everyone who asked for an invite has been added to my list. A few of you, however (specifically, I’m talking to Geohde, Dorian&Amp and Nurse Lochia) said I could find your e-mail in your profile. Um, it’s not there. Geohde, I know we’ve e-mailed before but for the life of me I can’t find your address! So could you just drop me an e-mail so I can add you to the hordes? (Ha!)
In pregnancy-related news, my friend A hosted the shower for me a week ago, and it was lovely. All my worries were for naught; the perfect number of people came to the shower. I continue to be overwhelmed by the support of friends.
Sleep, however, continues to elude. Oh, I get a fair amount—but I’m constantly waking up, shifting, settling down uncomfortably and repeating the same cycle about an hour later.
I must admit, too, that I’m starting to get my first round of the freak-outs. As in, “Holy crap, in about six weeks I’m actually going to be responsible for the well-being of another person!
M and I are also getting our butts in gear and finally ordering a monument for Zach’s grave. Between the opening and closing of the grave and the monument, they seriously do rob you blind. Sigh. But we can’t not put the marker there, because how would we even remember where he’s buried? Such is the problem with stillbirth that you never would even think about. If Zach had been born alive, we could’ve gotten life insurance for him and not had to pay for everything out of pocket.
Well. Relatively speaking. It’s not like I’ve had 300 people asking for an invite—which is a good thing, because apparently Blogger limits me to 100! But I have to admit it’s been an ego boost to hear from all of you—especially you lurkers. Honestly, I feel like I’m in an episode of “This is Your Life.” Or maybe an observer at my own funeral. (Too morbid?) I am so completely touched by some of the e-mails you have sent me, and I’m humbled that you want to follow along on my journey.
I’m sad, too, because by going invite-only, I’m inevitably turning this blog into a different animal. I love the fact that a heartbroken mom/mom-to-be/wanna-be-mom-to-be/wanted-to-be-mom-to-be who has a story somewhat similar to mine can find me on this newfangled thing we call the Web. For that same reason, however (and many others) I have to protect my privacy. My greatest source of support could become my nightmare if I’m not careful. I prefer that this blog continue to be read by virtual strangers (that’s you guys!) rather than risk someone I know stumbling across it.
Now down to business: Everyone who asked for an invite has been added to my list. A few of you, however (specifically, I’m talking to Geohde, Dorian&Amp and Nurse Lochia) said I could find your e-mail in your profile. Um, it’s not there. Geohde, I know we’ve e-mailed before but for the life of me I can’t find your address! So could you just drop me an e-mail so I can add you to the hordes? (Ha!)
In pregnancy-related news, my friend A hosted the shower for me a week ago, and it was lovely. All my worries were for naught; the perfect number of people came to the shower. I continue to be overwhelmed by the support of friends.
Sleep, however, continues to elude. Oh, I get a fair amount—but I’m constantly waking up, shifting, settling down uncomfortably and repeating the same cycle about an hour later.
I must admit, too, that I’m starting to get my first round of the freak-outs. As in, “Holy crap, in about six weeks I’m actually going to be responsible for the well-being of another person!
M and I are also getting our butts in gear and finally ordering a monument for Zach’s grave. Between the opening and closing of the grave and the monument, they seriously do rob you blind. Sigh. But we can’t not put the marker there, because how would we even remember where he’s buried? Such is the problem with stillbirth that you never would even think about. If Zach had been born alive, we could’ve gotten life insurance for him and not had to pay for everything out of pocket.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Going invite-only--soon
I recently discovered that my company blocks users from clearing their Internet histories. I guess it's sort of the Big Brother thing--if we get accused of viewing naughty pictures online, they want to be able to track it.
That does not bode well for me, however. I can just picture it: My maternity replacement comes into the office, gets bored one day and starts absentmindedly viewing the pages (and many blogs) I have viewed while in the office. Suddenly, she stumbles upon a particularly interesting blog called The Unlucky 20 Percent...and decides to share it with all her new friends in my office.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
So, the only solution is to take a step I had planned on taking anyway: As of about mid-September, I will be going invite-only. It saddens me that I have to restrict my readership, but I simply have to protect my anonymity.
Of course, this isn't sad news for all of you lovely people. All you have to do is send me your e-mail address and I'll add you to the "safe list." (We'll see if I run into any technological disasters along the way.) E-mail me at b ear nest at wi dot rr dot com, and we can rock 'n roll!
I'm only 34 weeks, so I'm not expecting to leave the office just yet. But I need your e-mails in the next three weeks so I can go invite-only early--just in case.
That does not bode well for me, however. I can just picture it: My maternity replacement comes into the office, gets bored one day and starts absentmindedly viewing the pages (and many blogs) I have viewed while in the office. Suddenly, she stumbles upon a particularly interesting blog called The Unlucky 20 Percent...and decides to share it with all her new friends in my office.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
So, the only solution is to take a step I had planned on taking anyway: As of about mid-September, I will be going invite-only. It saddens me that I have to restrict my readership, but I simply have to protect my anonymity.
Of course, this isn't sad news for all of you lovely people. All you have to do is send me your e-mail address and I'll add you to the "safe list." (We'll see if I run into any technological disasters along the way.) E-mail me at b ear nest at wi dot rr dot com, and we can rock 'n roll!
I'm only 34 weeks, so I'm not expecting to leave the office just yet. But I need your e-mails in the next three weeks so I can go invite-only early--just in case.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The complainer
I have a nasty habit of, when someone asks me how I’m feeling, actually telling them.
I don’t subscribe to the “I’m fine” camp when I’m not—not completely. So most people in my office are aware that I have recently had ligament pains that make it very difficult to get up from my chair and walk to the bathroom. When they ask me how I am, I tell them I’m feeling very uncomfortable.
On Friday, I accompanied M to a work conference at a resort for a night and treated myself to a massage and a few hours by the pool. Apparently, it was just what my body needed. Even M said I seemed much more relaxed.
This morning, when my co-worker S asked how I was doing, I told her, truthfully, much better. I then turned it into an extended joke along the lines of, hey, apparently all I need is just to sit on my butt by a pool and my body just magically feels much better. The office wouldn’t mind, then, if I spent the next seven weeks doing just that?
My co-worker C happened to walk up while we were talking. She gave a small smile while I was joking (hey C, you wouldn’t mind if I just took the next seven week to lay by the pool, would you, ha ha?). Then she said, presumably joking, “Hey, you chose to be pregnant, so suck it up!
(I should probably remind you that C is the office queen bee who was never able to have children and has alternately been my biggest nemesis and my biggest comfort through all the crap of the last year. She’s also planning my office shower.)
I think C was sort of joking. But it still stung. Have I really become “that person—“ the one who complains when she has been blessed enough to become pregnant? I have always been conscious of what I talk about and when, but when somebody asks me how I’m feeling, it is very difficult for me to grit my teeth and swallow down any words other than “great!” I’m just too talkative of a person for that.
It is very, very difficult for me to just ignore my pregnancy at work when, everywhere I turn (remember, I work in PR at a hospital so I work with LOTS of different people), someone is asking me about it. Even when I try to joke, I feel like I’m betraying the infertile sisterhood.
I don’t subscribe to the “I’m fine” camp when I’m not—not completely. So most people in my office are aware that I have recently had ligament pains that make it very difficult to get up from my chair and walk to the bathroom. When they ask me how I am, I tell them I’m feeling very uncomfortable.
On Friday, I accompanied M to a work conference at a resort for a night and treated myself to a massage and a few hours by the pool. Apparently, it was just what my body needed. Even M said I seemed much more relaxed.
This morning, when my co-worker S asked how I was doing, I told her, truthfully, much better. I then turned it into an extended joke along the lines of, hey, apparently all I need is just to sit on my butt by a pool and my body just magically feels much better. The office wouldn’t mind, then, if I spent the next seven weeks doing just that?
My co-worker C happened to walk up while we were talking. She gave a small smile while I was joking (hey C, you wouldn’t mind if I just took the next seven week to lay by the pool, would you, ha ha?). Then she said, presumably joking, “Hey, you chose to be pregnant, so suck it up!
(I should probably remind you that C is the office queen bee who was never able to have children and has alternately been my biggest nemesis and my biggest comfort through all the crap of the last year. She’s also planning my office shower.)
I think C was sort of joking. But it still stung. Have I really become “that person—“ the one who complains when she has been blessed enough to become pregnant? I have always been conscious of what I talk about and when, but when somebody asks me how I’m feeling, it is very difficult for me to grit my teeth and swallow down any words other than “great!” I’m just too talkative of a person for that.
It is very, very difficult for me to just ignore my pregnancy at work when, everywhere I turn (remember, I work in PR at a hospital so I work with LOTS of different people), someone is asking me about it. Even when I try to joke, I feel like I’m betraying the infertile sisterhood.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Shower time
I have to ‘fess up to something: I hate throwing parties.
It’s not because so much work goes into planning them, or even because it takes a while to clean up after a party. No, I hate throwing parties because I’m always afraid nobody is going to come.
It’s usually an unfounded fear. But it’s a fear nonetheless.
You’d think this fear would go away when somebody else is throwing me a party. But no—if anything, it gets worse.
My friend A was gracious enough to offer to throw me a shower. It was a very sweet offer, and at first I was too surprised to say anything. But as soon as I got over my shock, my prevalent thought was: Who in the world am I going to invite?
Let me back up a second. I lived in the Chicago area most of my life. Many of my closest friends, both from high school and college, live in that area, as do my parents and B and SIL’s family. I moved up to the Milwaukee area to be with M a little more than three years ago. I’ve managed to make a decent number of friends, but my “friendship base” is spread out over a larger geographic area than other people’s.
We have been overwhelmed by the support we have received in (and before) this pregnancy. There are five showers being thrown for us. Five! I love attending parties, so it’s lots of fun for me. However, we only know so many people!
Shower #1: In Chicago, thrown by my mother and SIL. It was lots of fun and the perfect size. I got to see most of my Chicago friends and was overwhelmed by love.
Shower #2: A’s shower, scheduled for next weekend (15 minutes from our house). Not including my mom, MIL and other SIL (who lives up here in Cheeseland), I could only think of 12 other people to invite. And even that’s pushing it (church people, etc.).
Shower #3: A total shocker—M’s boss and wife wanted to throw us a shower. The company is very small, so there will probably be just four or five couples there, including us. But a total non-stresser for me, so yay!
Shower #4: My work shower, thrown at a co-worker’s house (ironically, a co-worker that I’ve been hot and cold with since I started working here). Also not much of a stresser for me because everybody at the shower knows each other.
Shower #5: Thrown by my MIL and SIL here in WI. Will be mostly family and MIL’s friends. Since the guest list isn’t so much mine as it is MIL’s, I’m not stressing about it.
So why, you ask, am I so stressed out about A’s shower? First of all, every time I see her she sounds so excited about it. Even though she just had a baby at the beginning of July, she’s putting lots of work into this shower. I’ll feel like I let her down if only a few people can come! Plus, I feel really weird about asking her who she’s heard from, and she doesn't volunteer the information. My mother gave me almost a daily update on the guest list for Shower #1, so I knew exactly who she was still waiting to hear from. It feels weird to be in such a passive position regarding a party.
What I need to do is just stop stressing and start enjoying the ride!
(By the way, last November I would have killed to have “problems” like these. I must admit it feels good that the biggest issues I have right now are superficial.)
It’s not because so much work goes into planning them, or even because it takes a while to clean up after a party. No, I hate throwing parties because I’m always afraid nobody is going to come.
It’s usually an unfounded fear. But it’s a fear nonetheless.
You’d think this fear would go away when somebody else is throwing me a party. But no—if anything, it gets worse.
My friend A was gracious enough to offer to throw me a shower. It was a very sweet offer, and at first I was too surprised to say anything. But as soon as I got over my shock, my prevalent thought was: Who in the world am I going to invite?
Let me back up a second. I lived in the Chicago area most of my life. Many of my closest friends, both from high school and college, live in that area, as do my parents and B and SIL’s family. I moved up to the Milwaukee area to be with M a little more than three years ago. I’ve managed to make a decent number of friends, but my “friendship base” is spread out over a larger geographic area than other people’s.
We have been overwhelmed by the support we have received in (and before) this pregnancy. There are five showers being thrown for us. Five! I love attending parties, so it’s lots of fun for me. However, we only know so many people!
Shower #1: In Chicago, thrown by my mother and SIL. It was lots of fun and the perfect size. I got to see most of my Chicago friends and was overwhelmed by love.
Shower #2: A’s shower, scheduled for next weekend (15 minutes from our house). Not including my mom, MIL and other SIL (who lives up here in Cheeseland), I could only think of 12 other people to invite. And even that’s pushing it (church people, etc.).
Shower #3: A total shocker—M’s boss and wife wanted to throw us a shower. The company is very small, so there will probably be just four or five couples there, including us. But a total non-stresser for me, so yay!
Shower #4: My work shower, thrown at a co-worker’s house (ironically, a co-worker that I’ve been hot and cold with since I started working here). Also not much of a stresser for me because everybody at the shower knows each other.
Shower #5: Thrown by my MIL and SIL here in WI. Will be mostly family and MIL’s friends. Since the guest list isn’t so much mine as it is MIL’s, I’m not stressing about it.
So why, you ask, am I so stressed out about A’s shower? First of all, every time I see her she sounds so excited about it. Even though she just had a baby at the beginning of July, she’s putting lots of work into this shower. I’ll feel like I let her down if only a few people can come! Plus, I feel really weird about asking her who she’s heard from, and she doesn't volunteer the information. My mother gave me almost a daily update on the guest list for Shower #1, so I knew exactly who she was still waiting to hear from. It feels weird to be in such a passive position regarding a party.
What I need to do is just stop stressing and start enjoying the ride!
(By the way, last November I would have killed to have “problems” like these. I must admit it feels good that the biggest issues I have right now are superficial.)
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