17 days to go.
My doctor doesn't want me to go past my due date, and he officially put me on the schedule to be induced on February 1st. Planning my kid's birthday that way seems a little wrong, but at the same time, it's nice to know the end is near.
Besides, she still might surprise us. Scheduling an induction, from what I've observed, is like lighting a cigarette while you're waiting for the bus. It's the best way to get it to come before you're ready.
I told my doctor that since we decided on the 1st, I wanted to be out of the hospital by my birthday (the 6th) because I want cake. He laughed. I was dead serious. I want a whole peice of cake all to myself with lots and lots of ice dream. Maybe I'll have seconds. Just because I can.
I'm trying to be upbeat and not get too moody but it's really hard. At work I have to sit in pretty much the same position all night, and my legs tend to go numb after a while. Then when I get off and I can walk around, my hips and pelvis hurt so badly. I was originally going to work all the way through January but I just can't. I don't know how other people work up until they pop but bless them. There's no way. In that respect as well, I'm lucky that we've scheduled an induction. If I didn't have that date to go by, I would have no way of knowing how many weeks of leave I'm using up by starting it early, so that wouldn't be an option.
Bottom line - tomorrow is my last day of work. I was going to try to make it through the 22nd but after this week I give up.
I can either nest or work at this point...I can't do both. Besides, cleaning and organizing my apartment gives me way more opportunities for nap breaks.
Oh, and on the "things nobody ever told me" front...apparently once I start nursing my cat is going to follow me around even MORE than he does now?? I never even considered that. Ew.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
4 weeks to go.
I am paranoid.
I am paranoid that I will go into labor at work and nobody will want to drive me to the hospital because they'll get points on their record and have to use part of their vacation time to cover their hours.
I am paranoid that I will push and push and push only to be told they have to do a c-section after all and they'll pull that sheet on front of my face and I'll be basically disconnected from the rest of my body, not knowing what's going on or what they are doing to my internal organs, waiting to hear my baby cry.
Other than that, everything is fine.
Aunt Becky is giving away stuff again. I like stuff, so I'm completing her questions below. Please excuse any poor language. Aunt Becky is a horrible influence.
1) Dave and I have a long-standing feud over cheese in a can. He thinks it’s food of The Gods while I think it’s probably Of The Devil. Your take?
Of the devil. Definitely of the devil. There is nothing even remotely appealing about that stuff.
2) Is there any way you can think of to make the elder Gosselins go away? I AM ALL EARS.
Ignore them. Stop buying the shitty magazines and for craps sake stop watching that show.
3) Who is your ridiculous “I can’t admit this to anyone in polite company lest I be banned from life” crush?
John Stamos. Except I do mention it. Frequently. I danced with him once, and he kissed me. Didn't I ever tell you that story?
4) If you could fuck it all and pursue your dream (assuming, of course, you were going to be GOOD at it), what would that dream be?
I would be a Broadway actor. The problem here is that I'm an okay singer and an okay dancer... but not GOOD. At least, not GOOD in the way you have to be to make a living out of that.
5) They say “living well is the best revenge.” I think they are wrong. Do you?
I don't know. I guess it depends on the sort of person you are dealing with. I have certain people I know who HATE it when I am doing well (Making more money than them, thinner than them, happier than them, etc.) and that always makes me smile. But if all else fails, there's always the story of the wife whose husband cheated on her, and in the divorce he got the house. So when she moved out, she hid sardines or something in the curtain rods, and after months and months of trying to get rid of the smell and failing, he signed the house back over to her and she lived happily ever after. Or something like that.
6) What is the most humiliation you’ve experienced in public that you’d be willing to admit to The Internet?
Ummm...well, you know, I twisted my ankle hopping off my bar stool once. And I puked in the street on St. Patrick's Day outside the busiest pub in town. And then I fell and scraped my face off and had to explain THAT at work the next day. Then there was the time I was arrested in my pajamas on my then-boyfriend's birthday and he spent the day trying to bail me out. That one was not booze related. It was cake related. I don't want to talk about it.
7) Are you honest with The Internet? Like, if I came over to your house tonight (heh)(I’m coming over, yo)(heh) would I be surprised at who I found?
I used to try to be all thought provoking and deep and crap. And then I realized that that just made me look like a flaming asshole. So now I try not to take myself too seriously, either in person or on the Internet. And, if you come over, could you bring guacamole?
8 ) If you could have one talent that you don’t currently possess, what would it be?
Hmmm. I would like to be able to play the drums. Theoretically, I COULD do this, but I have coordination problems, and drummers need to be able to get all their limbs to do different things at the same time. Me, not so much.
9) There’s not always room for Jello. Is there?
Not always, but usually. Unless it's the sugar free watermelon flavor. That stuff makes my tongue tingle unnaturally and I don't like it.
10) What’s your guiltiest of the guilty pleasures?
I kind of like Justin Timberlake's music. Sort of. A little bit. Also Eminem. I'm a horrible person.
I am paranoid that I will go into labor at work and nobody will want to drive me to the hospital because they'll get points on their record and have to use part of their vacation time to cover their hours.
I am paranoid that I will push and push and push only to be told they have to do a c-section after all and they'll pull that sheet on front of my face and I'll be basically disconnected from the rest of my body, not knowing what's going on or what they are doing to my internal organs, waiting to hear my baby cry.
Other than that, everything is fine.
Aunt Becky is giving away stuff again. I like stuff, so I'm completing her questions below. Please excuse any poor language. Aunt Becky is a horrible influence.
1) Dave and I have a long-standing feud over cheese in a can. He thinks it’s food of The Gods while I think it’s probably Of The Devil. Your take?
Of the devil. Definitely of the devil. There is nothing even remotely appealing about that stuff.
2) Is there any way you can think of to make the elder Gosselins go away? I AM ALL EARS.
Ignore them. Stop buying the shitty magazines and for craps sake stop watching that show.
3) Who is your ridiculous “I can’t admit this to anyone in polite company lest I be banned from life” crush?
John Stamos. Except I do mention it. Frequently. I danced with him once, and he kissed me. Didn't I ever tell you that story?
4) If you could fuck it all and pursue your dream (assuming, of course, you were going to be GOOD at it), what would that dream be?
I would be a Broadway actor. The problem here is that I'm an okay singer and an okay dancer... but not GOOD. At least, not GOOD in the way you have to be to make a living out of that.
5) They say “living well is the best revenge.” I think they are wrong. Do you?
I don't know. I guess it depends on the sort of person you are dealing with. I have certain people I know who HATE it when I am doing well (Making more money than them, thinner than them, happier than them, etc.) and that always makes me smile. But if all else fails, there's always the story of the wife whose husband cheated on her, and in the divorce he got the house. So when she moved out, she hid sardines or something in the curtain rods, and after months and months of trying to get rid of the smell and failing, he signed the house back over to her and she lived happily ever after. Or something like that.
6) What is the most humiliation you’ve experienced in public that you’d be willing to admit to The Internet?
Ummm...well, you know, I twisted my ankle hopping off my bar stool once. And I puked in the street on St. Patrick's Day outside the busiest pub in town. And then I fell and scraped my face off and had to explain THAT at work the next day. Then there was the time I was arrested in my pajamas on my then-boyfriend's birthday and he spent the day trying to bail me out. That one was not booze related. It was cake related. I don't want to talk about it.
7) Are you honest with The Internet? Like, if I came over to your house tonight (heh)(I’m coming over, yo)(heh) would I be surprised at who I found?
I used to try to be all thought provoking and deep and crap. And then I realized that that just made me look like a flaming asshole. So now I try not to take myself too seriously, either in person or on the Internet. And, if you come over, could you bring guacamole?
8 ) If you could have one talent that you don’t currently possess, what would it be?
Hmmm. I would like to be able to play the drums. Theoretically, I COULD do this, but I have coordination problems, and drummers need to be able to get all their limbs to do different things at the same time. Me, not so much.
9) There’s not always room for Jello. Is there?
Not always, but usually. Unless it's the sugar free watermelon flavor. That stuff makes my tongue tingle unnaturally and I don't like it.
10) What’s your guiltiest of the guilty pleasures?
I kind of like Justin Timberlake's music. Sort of. A little bit. Also Eminem. I'm a horrible person.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
35 Weeks
It's getting to that point. That point where women start to complain that they just want the baby OUT already. I'm 5 weeks (or less?) away and I am so effing tired.
I look and feel silly. Honestly, I haven't had many body issues with this pregnancy and I still don't, but when I see myself in a mirror or a photo, I just look SO disproportioned to myself that it's comical. I grunt when I sit. I need help to get off the couch or out of bed. I have a hard time driving now. I don't feel ugly, just silly.
I want to be able to reach my feet without horrible pain. (They don't tell you that having a belly in the way all the time HURTS. A LOT.) I want to eat real food without counting carbs or feeling guilty. I want to be able to do normal things like vacuum the carpet without being in pain later.
Not that I'm ready, or anything. The apartment still feels filthy and I literally cannot do half of the things that need to be done. Matt, in typical guy fashion, thinks that the livingroom is clean because the rug was vacuumed. He thinks that "all" of the laundry really means "some" of the laundry. So we have a lot of arguments lately where I ask him to help me do something, and he huffs and puffs because it's more involved than he wants it to be. So then I get pissed off and try to just do it myself because it would be easier than putting up with his moping, and consequently hurt myself. (I can wash and fold laundry just fine, but I can't carry it down the hall. I can sweep the floor under the couch, but I can't move the couch to do so. Rinse, repeat.)
We do this Every. Weekend. Seriously.
I don't want to go to work anymore. Getting there is such a pain. Getting home is such a pain. I get nothing done around the house because I have no motivation to do chores in the hour or two I'm awake before I leave for work. And the few times I WAS motivated to do a lot before work, I ended up dozing off at my desk later. And on the weekend, as noted above, I end up arguing about doing things more so than doing them. I need a maid. Just for one day.
I was going to try to write about something funny, but nothing is funny lately.
Sorry.
I look and feel silly. Honestly, I haven't had many body issues with this pregnancy and I still don't, but when I see myself in a mirror or a photo, I just look SO disproportioned to myself that it's comical. I grunt when I sit. I need help to get off the couch or out of bed. I have a hard time driving now. I don't feel ugly, just silly.
I want to be able to reach my feet without horrible pain. (They don't tell you that having a belly in the way all the time HURTS. A LOT.) I want to eat real food without counting carbs or feeling guilty. I want to be able to do normal things like vacuum the carpet without being in pain later.
Not that I'm ready, or anything. The apartment still feels filthy and I literally cannot do half of the things that need to be done. Matt, in typical guy fashion, thinks that the livingroom is clean because the rug was vacuumed. He thinks that "all" of the laundry really means "some" of the laundry. So we have a lot of arguments lately where I ask him to help me do something, and he huffs and puffs because it's more involved than he wants it to be. So then I get pissed off and try to just do it myself because it would be easier than putting up with his moping, and consequently hurt myself. (I can wash and fold laundry just fine, but I can't carry it down the hall. I can sweep the floor under the couch, but I can't move the couch to do so. Rinse, repeat.)
We do this Every. Weekend. Seriously.
I don't want to go to work anymore. Getting there is such a pain. Getting home is such a pain. I get nothing done around the house because I have no motivation to do chores in the hour or two I'm awake before I leave for work. And the few times I WAS motivated to do a lot before work, I ended up dozing off at my desk later. And on the weekend, as noted above, I end up arguing about doing things more so than doing them. I need a maid. Just for one day.
I was going to try to write about something funny, but nothing is funny lately.
Sorry.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
34 weeks
I hate. Hate. Hate. Going to several different doctors for the same problem.
Because when they all tell you different things, (and they will,) which one do you believe?
Went to the perinatology/OBGYN dept of the hospital today for an ultrasound. Baby looks healthy, supposedly has lots of hair, is definitely head down, and weighs in at approximately 4 lbs 15 oz. This is supposed to be about perfect for her gestational age, so that means so far the gestation diabetes has not affected her size.
While my OB feels that my weight gain has been perfectly healthy at 15 lbs so far, the perinatologist tells me I haven't gained enough and should have gained 30 lbs by now. Who is correct? I don't have a clue.
Also, if the baby gains a steady 1/2 pound per week and I get to 40 weeks, she will weigh close to 8 lbs. My OB says I should be fine with anything under 10 to deliver normally, and really, only about 9% of first time moms need a c-section. The perinatologist says I will probably have a c-section. Who is correct? I'm leaning towards my OB because ultimately, that's his call and he'll be doing the cutting. (**shudders**) That, and I really really don't want a c-section unless it is absolutely medically necessary. I would be pissed as hell if a doctor decided to just cut me open because he got tired of waiting.
Everyone agrees that my sugar looks pretty good. And unless more complications arise, I shouldn't have to be delivered early. So, first week of February at the latest. 6 weeks to go.
Holy crap.
Because when they all tell you different things, (and they will,) which one do you believe?
Went to the perinatology/OBGYN dept of the hospital today for an ultrasound. Baby looks healthy, supposedly has lots of hair, is definitely head down, and weighs in at approximately 4 lbs 15 oz. This is supposed to be about perfect for her gestational age, so that means so far the gestation diabetes has not affected her size.
While my OB feels that my weight gain has been perfectly healthy at 15 lbs so far, the perinatologist tells me I haven't gained enough and should have gained 30 lbs by now. Who is correct? I don't have a clue.
Also, if the baby gains a steady 1/2 pound per week and I get to 40 weeks, she will weigh close to 8 lbs. My OB says I should be fine with anything under 10 to deliver normally, and really, only about 9% of first time moms need a c-section. The perinatologist says I will probably have a c-section. Who is correct? I'm leaning towards my OB because ultimately, that's his call and he'll be doing the cutting. (**shudders**) That, and I really really don't want a c-section unless it is absolutely medically necessary. I would be pissed as hell if a doctor decided to just cut me open because he got tired of waiting.
Everyone agrees that my sugar looks pretty good. And unless more complications arise, I shouldn't have to be delivered early. So, first week of February at the latest. 6 weeks to go.
Holy crap.
Friday, December 18, 2009
33 Weeks
Only 7 weeks left to go. Maybe.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday and found out that from here on out I will have weekly non-stress tests because of the gestational diabetes. No big deal...it was kind of cool to see how her heartbeat elevated every time she moved on the little chart.
I'm supposed to go see a perinatologist for a new ultrasound to check her growth, and depending what they say about that and my blood sugar levels, we'll decide if I need to go on insulin and if I need to be induced before my due date. As of right now I will not be allowed to go past my due date - he has it in mind to induce me no later than Feb 1.
I'm still waiting to hear from the perinatologist about when they can get me in. There has been a paperwork snaffu that I've been trying to work out since Wednesday...hopefully I won't fall through anymore cracks and I'll have an appointment set up by Monday.
Also, while I was at the doctor, I talked to him about some issues I have been having with out of control irritability, anger and depression, notably since I was diagnosed with the diabetes. At first he tried to blow me off, which really frustrated me, because it took a lot for me to even bring it up. I almost didn't because I was afraid he wouldn't take me seriously. And I think that's part of the reason that a lot of women don't get the help they need...they're afraid the doctor will blow them off and tell them it's normal, when they know that it isn't. I finally convinced him that being sad all the time, not wanting to leave the house, see anyone, or eat, and having uncontrollable anger for no apparent reason, was not okay for me. And that I didn't want to wait until a couple of weeks after the baby is born, and we're having bonding issues, to deal with it as PPD.
Thankfully Matt was there with me. Finally the doctor turned to Matt and asked him how bad it was, really. And poor Matt, who has been awesome lately and who hasn't said a word to me about my attitude, told him that yes, it really was bad.
I figured he was going to refer me to a therapist or something, which would have been fine, but he actually prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft. I took one yesterday before work...and once the sleepiness wore off (holy cow) I felt a lot better...not goofy... I felt like I did at the beginning of my pregnancy. I realized I had been clenching my jaw for months.
I haven't taken one today, because I realized that I need to take them before bed if I want to get anything accomplished. Also, the doctor suggested I take them when I'm having a bad day, instead of taking them all the time.
$10 for a 30 day prescription is way cheaper than beer.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday and found out that from here on out I will have weekly non-stress tests because of the gestational diabetes. No big deal...it was kind of cool to see how her heartbeat elevated every time she moved on the little chart.
I'm supposed to go see a perinatologist for a new ultrasound to check her growth, and depending what they say about that and my blood sugar levels, we'll decide if I need to go on insulin and if I need to be induced before my due date. As of right now I will not be allowed to go past my due date - he has it in mind to induce me no later than Feb 1.
I'm still waiting to hear from the perinatologist about when they can get me in. There has been a paperwork snaffu that I've been trying to work out since Wednesday...hopefully I won't fall through anymore cracks and I'll have an appointment set up by Monday.
Also, while I was at the doctor, I talked to him about some issues I have been having with out of control irritability, anger and depression, notably since I was diagnosed with the diabetes. At first he tried to blow me off, which really frustrated me, because it took a lot for me to even bring it up. I almost didn't because I was afraid he wouldn't take me seriously. And I think that's part of the reason that a lot of women don't get the help they need...they're afraid the doctor will blow them off and tell them it's normal, when they know that it isn't. I finally convinced him that being sad all the time, not wanting to leave the house, see anyone, or eat, and having uncontrollable anger for no apparent reason, was not okay for me. And that I didn't want to wait until a couple of weeks after the baby is born, and we're having bonding issues, to deal with it as PPD.
Thankfully Matt was there with me. Finally the doctor turned to Matt and asked him how bad it was, really. And poor Matt, who has been awesome lately and who hasn't said a word to me about my attitude, told him that yes, it really was bad.
I figured he was going to refer me to a therapist or something, which would have been fine, but he actually prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft. I took one yesterday before work...and once the sleepiness wore off (holy cow) I felt a lot better...not goofy... I felt like I did at the beginning of my pregnancy. I realized I had been clenching my jaw for months.
I haven't taken one today, because I realized that I need to take them before bed if I want to get anything accomplished. Also, the doctor suggested I take them when I'm having a bad day, instead of taking them all the time.
$10 for a 30 day prescription is way cheaper than beer.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The countdown starts. Also, trying to win free stuff from Aunt Becky.
So today my weekly countdown is officially in the single digits. Um. Yeah. I've washed all the baby clothes and blankets and bedding. I have diapers in sizes NB to 3. I have bottles. I have bibs. I have towels and washcloths and swaddlers and receiving blankets. I have books and magazines and brochures and pamphlets. Will any of this help me? Probably not.
So, on to the winning of the free stuff. Aunt Becky is giving free stuff away if I answer some questions and post a button leading you back to her blog. This is probably pointless because Aunt Becky is one of three people who read my blog, but rules are rules.
1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?
I feel that sprinkles needlessly ruin the integrity of the ice cream. They don't taste like anything. They're there for the sole purpose of trying to make ice cream more fun. As Hank Hill would say, ice cream is fun on its own. Fudge is a completely different story.
2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?
Moist. I hate that word.
3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?
Glacial Ice or something similar, like you see on Gatorade bottles. The name would give no clues whatsoever as to how I would actually taste.
4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?
Folding clothes. But then again, I don't actually do that (except for towels and items that will wrinkle) so I don't know what I'm complaining about.
5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)
Rizzo is the first nickname I have ever had that made fun of my personality rather than my height. I appreciate that.
6) Your stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?
Queen
Billy Joel
Buddy Holly
Stray Cats
Social Distortion
So, on to the winning of the free stuff. Aunt Becky is giving free stuff away if I answer some questions and post a button leading you back to her blog. This is probably pointless because Aunt Becky is one of three people who read my blog, but rules are rules.
1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?
I feel that sprinkles needlessly ruin the integrity of the ice cream. They don't taste like anything. They're there for the sole purpose of trying to make ice cream more fun. As Hank Hill would say, ice cream is fun on its own. Fudge is a completely different story.
2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?
Moist. I hate that word.
3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?
Glacial Ice or something similar, like you see on Gatorade bottles. The name would give no clues whatsoever as to how I would actually taste.
4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?
Folding clothes. But then again, I don't actually do that (except for towels and items that will wrinkle) so I don't know what I'm complaining about.
5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)
Rizzo is the first nickname I have ever had that made fun of my personality rather than my height. I appreciate that.
6) Your stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?
Queen
Billy Joel
Buddy Holly
Stray Cats
Social Distortion
I think the key is to choose artists with really large bodies of work. Queen and Billy especially not only have a lot of music to choose from, but a lot of different styles within their bodies of work. Social D is for when I'm feeling depressed about being stuck on a desert island. People say Mike Ness whines too much, and they're right. But that's what you want when you feel like crap.
7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false?
Absolutely true.
8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order will emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self?
Young self is still here...but I guess I would tell her that all that beer was going to make her fat, and that she should switch to lower calorie beverages, such as gin.
Monday, November 30, 2009
30/31 Weeks
I have been lucky so far. I really have. My doctor is awesome, I'm gaining weight at exactly the correct rate, no hemorrhoids, no waddling, no back pain.
And then.
I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. No big deal, right? Check your sugar, count your carbs. Except I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.
Horror of horrors, the injustice. The mashed potatoes. The candied yams. The stuffing. The biscuits. The corn bread. The pies. Oh, sweet heaven, the pies. All calling my name.
It was awful. If I ate a satisfying helping of any one item, I couldn't have any other items. My plate was pathetic. I had two bites of mashed potatoes. Lisa's special Thanksgiving mashed potatoes. The ones with the fresh dill. TWO BITES. I had a mouthful of stuffing and half a cheesy garlic biscuit.
I could have all the turkey and ham I wanted. I am so tired of turkey. I don't even want to think about ham.
As soon as this baby is out and safe and content and they tell me I can eat, someone is going to be sent on a mission for mashed potatoes. Lots of them.
And then.
I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. No big deal, right? Check your sugar, count your carbs. Except I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.
Horror of horrors, the injustice. The mashed potatoes. The candied yams. The stuffing. The biscuits. The corn bread. The pies. Oh, sweet heaven, the pies. All calling my name.
It was awful. If I ate a satisfying helping of any one item, I couldn't have any other items. My plate was pathetic. I had two bites of mashed potatoes. Lisa's special Thanksgiving mashed potatoes. The ones with the fresh dill. TWO BITES. I had a mouthful of stuffing and half a cheesy garlic biscuit.
I could have all the turkey and ham I wanted. I am so tired of turkey. I don't even want to think about ham.
As soon as this baby is out and safe and content and they tell me I can eat, someone is going to be sent on a mission for mashed potatoes. Lots of them.
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