I am shocked to find that I still resent pregnancy announcements. Within the past 24 hours, I have learned that M's friend's wife is about 17 weeks along, and my co-worker is 5 weeks along. Neither of them had any trouble whatsoever conceiving.
No matter how unreasonable it is, I find myself resenting people for whom conception is a piece of cake. It's like I feel they don't really "deserve" the pregnancy--even though I know that's all relative. If each one of us experienced the pain and suffering that everyone else did on all issues, we'd all be absolutely miserable! Everyone has their own issues to deal with, and ours happened to be conception/baby loss/etc. Still, I can't help but grit my teeth.
In the meantime, my friend who is 21 weeks pregnant after 2 1/2 years of secondary infertility and IVF just found out she has placenta previa. The placenta is completely covering the cervix. Yet, her doc is not referring her to a peri, and doesn't plan on doing another ultrasound until late in the 3rd trimester. Is this normal? Or should she seek a second opinion? The doc merely told her to page her at any sign of bleeding.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Miss Zero Personality
Happily, my biggest concern of the moment is that I am sick to death of work.
Specifically, I am not thrilled about my maternity replacement. She started late last week and I have been spending most of my time either explaining my job duties to her or letting her watch me as I put out fires, work on projects, etc.
Other people in my office think she is only going to be around for three months. I, however, know I won’t be coming back, and I also am pretty sure my boss suspects this. It is my opinion that if she (we’ll call her Flo) works out, she will become my permanent replacement (because I don’t plan on returning to work for more than a couple of weeks).
Here’s my problem with Flo: She’s, well...dull. For the past week, I have been struggling with my feelings because I wonder if I’m not giving her enough of a chance. I try to remember what it’s like to be learning a new job and soaking in all this information. Except that even when someone is clueless, you can tell if they have a certain “spark.” Do you know what I mean? A person who works in public relations should have some spunk to them. In my job, I have to advise people as to the proper ways to publicize information; I talk them down off a ledge when they’re upset about a negative news article; I call them out when they’re trying to pawn off too much work on me and my department. Flo doesn’t seem to have much of a personality. She’s not assertive (and yes, you can be assertive even when you’re learning a new job). Sometimes she has this strange expression on her face. Perhaps a lot of her problem is that she doesn’t know how to present herself effectively. She reminds me of some of the mediocre journalists I used to know (her background is print journalism, as is mine, although I think she’s only about 25) who would work fine where they are, but would never really accomplish anything great.
Perhaps this post sounds mean. Perhaps it is. But all I know is that I’m being forced to spend my days with Miss Zero Personality. Oh, she’ll do fine as a workhorse. She seems to have an attention to detail, and she has the raw skills my boss needs to fill my position. But I don’t know if she’s going to contribute anything to the office. It’ll be interesting to see if my boss decides to keep her around once I give my notice.
Flo works Tuesday through Thursday. I am fervently hoping that I go into labor before next Tuesday, but I’m not holding my breath. Quick update: I’m about 1.5 cm dilated, still about 50% effaced, and no significant contractions to speak of. I continue to be in limbo at 39 weeks. My OB would probably induce at 41 ½ weeks. It would suck if I had to wait that long...but, of course, suckage is all relative. At least everyone involved is still healthy. I’m just whiny.
Specifically, I am not thrilled about my maternity replacement. She started late last week and I have been spending most of my time either explaining my job duties to her or letting her watch me as I put out fires, work on projects, etc.
Other people in my office think she is only going to be around for three months. I, however, know I won’t be coming back, and I also am pretty sure my boss suspects this. It is my opinion that if she (we’ll call her Flo) works out, she will become my permanent replacement (because I don’t plan on returning to work for more than a couple of weeks).
Here’s my problem with Flo: She’s, well...dull. For the past week, I have been struggling with my feelings because I wonder if I’m not giving her enough of a chance. I try to remember what it’s like to be learning a new job and soaking in all this information. Except that even when someone is clueless, you can tell if they have a certain “spark.” Do you know what I mean? A person who works in public relations should have some spunk to them. In my job, I have to advise people as to the proper ways to publicize information; I talk them down off a ledge when they’re upset about a negative news article; I call them out when they’re trying to pawn off too much work on me and my department. Flo doesn’t seem to have much of a personality. She’s not assertive (and yes, you can be assertive even when you’re learning a new job). Sometimes she has this strange expression on her face. Perhaps a lot of her problem is that she doesn’t know how to present herself effectively. She reminds me of some of the mediocre journalists I used to know (her background is print journalism, as is mine, although I think she’s only about 25) who would work fine where they are, but would never really accomplish anything great.
Perhaps this post sounds mean. Perhaps it is. But all I know is that I’m being forced to spend my days with Miss Zero Personality. Oh, she’ll do fine as a workhorse. She seems to have an attention to detail, and she has the raw skills my boss needs to fill my position. But I don’t know if she’s going to contribute anything to the office. It’ll be interesting to see if my boss decides to keep her around once I give my notice.
Flo works Tuesday through Thursday. I am fervently hoping that I go into labor before next Tuesday, but I’m not holding my breath. Quick update: I’m about 1.5 cm dilated, still about 50% effaced, and no significant contractions to speak of. I continue to be in limbo at 39 weeks. My OB would probably induce at 41 ½ weeks. It would suck if I had to wait that long...but, of course, suckage is all relative. At least everyone involved is still healthy. I’m just whiny.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Still here
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.
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.
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.
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