...in case it makes it into an essay or something later on.
I feel like I am an extra in someone else's life -- like I have no clue what I'm doing, have no business being here, and that people are going to discover it and take her away from me.
Also...
My life is all about choosing what chair to breastfeed from next and the occasional load of laundry.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Friday, July 03, 2009
Zygote's Birth Story
June 2009
Dear Zygote –
This is your birth story. Even though I, your mother, consider myself a writer, I had a hard time describing the monsoon of emotions that came up during your last few weeks in utero and your eventual birth. These are just the details. Maybe someday we will get to the emotional part, but I wanted to remember everything before it started to fade away. Also, I know my grammar sucks. And yes, this is hard for a writer. We’ll deal.
Your Due Date: June 2, 2009
Your dad and I went to see Dr. Fine at Harvard Vanguard and you were still looking very big and hadn’t descended. She sent us to get an ultrasound to check your size, and we drove across the city to Boston Ultrasound in Brookline through tons of traffic and ended up waiting for an hour to be seen. Two different people took your measurements. One put you at 9 lbs, 3 oz. and the other put you much over. An average of 9 lbs, 10 oz was determined. Dr. Fine was worried about you being over 10 lbs and me not being able to push you out. We spoke that afternoon and she felt that someone my height and weight could push out a 10 pounder. I was happy. I didn’t want to schedule a C-section.
Your dad and I drove out to Ayer and picked up your big sister, Jessica, from your grandparents’ house. We had pasta for dinner and watched The Simpsons, one of Jess’ favorite shows.
The Next Week
Over the course of the next week, I did everything that I could to get you to drop or get my cervix dilated and effaced. I went to the gym almost every day and took walks around our neighborhood. We also tried evening primrose oil, red raspberry leaf tea, spicy food—all things I had previously dismissed as “hippie shit.” Then we set up the breast pump and I would sit on the exercise ball and bounce, hoping something would happen. We looked at my belly in the mirror every day and convinced ourselves that you were moving. We also spent a lot of time going out to eat with friends, figuring we’d be pretty cooped up after you were born. Sol and Brandon came over for ice cream, and Matt, who was visiting from San Francisco, came over twice. Your Nana Bonnie called every day to check your status. On Sunday, we even snuck in some last meal out at Harvest, waiting for your arrival. On the menu – apple cinnamon pierogies, huevos rancheros and lemon semifreddo for dessert.
We did some chores around the house on Sunday and planned on eating light that evening, but we finally met our “new” neighbors and they invited us over for steaks on their back porch. Of course, we said yes and even joked that it was the sort of random thing that happened in other people’s birth stories. We were still hoping you might come out on your own. You had other plans.
Monday, June 8
We went back to see Dr. Fine. You were still pretty high and I wasn’t dilated at all, so we decided to do an induction on Tuesday night to see if we could get things moving. Your dad and I went home and finished our chores and errands. I told work that it would be my last day and happily put on my out-of-office response for the next 16 weeks. I also did laundry and gave the cats extra food. We then walked up to the gym for one last workout together in the hopes of exercising you out. No such luck.
We then decided on dessert before dinner and went for ice cream at JP Licks before picking up a pizza at Mike’s for home. I ate about a third of that pizza, knowing that I wouldn’t have much of an appetite for the next few days. Then we just went home and relaxed.
Tuesday, June 9: Induction Day
I slept late that morning and let Alistair, one of our cats, stay in bed with me longer than normal. Your dad had some work emails to finish up so I read some books and burned CDs for the hospital. It was a rainy day so I couldn’t go for a walk, but your dad and I decided we wanted one last adult lunch in Davis Square before your birth. We broke out the umbrellas and headed up to Blue Shirt Café and ordered our usual: a wrap to split and vegetable soups. I don’t remember what exactly we talked about, but your dad was probably talking me off the ledge as usual. I was VERY nervous about your arrival. As is my typical way, I was totally logistically prepared for your birth, but emotionally, I was a wreck. I was afraid of labor, scared of screwing you up and afraid of messing up the good relationship your dad and I have. I was worried about being a mom. Your dad has been through this before so he understood.
We decided to get something sweet and headed over to Mr. Crepe to split a chocolate and banana crepe and decaf café au laits. The guy working the counter was sweet, and when he found out I was being induced that afternoon, he told us he was happy we chose to spend our day there.
After lunch, we walked back to the house and double-checked our bags. More typical behavior for your dad and I. We always double check in the event that our items decided to make a break from the bags when we weren’t looking. At 3:30, I called the hospital and they instructed me to come over after dinner. They told me to eat at home where the food was better. We snuggled in the bed for a while, talked about what you might be like, and made some veggie burgers for dinner that we ate while watching bad t.v. on the couch.
We called our families and the doula to let them know what was going on and headed over to Mt. Auburn Hospital. We almost left our second bag in the car because we assumed that with your position, the induction wouldn’t work and that we’d be going home the next day. Our doula told us that happened frequently with first pregnancies so we worked out a preferred schedule of when we would go home and what induction methods we would try next.
In Labor and Delivery, we were assigned a room and I changed into my johnnie gown. Another doctor, Dr. Andersen, came in and explained how the Cervidil application would work, and then waited for the order to be placed. It came quickly and burned immediately. We settled in and watched the Yankees/Red Sox game. The Yankees played horribly; losing 7-0, Burnett vs. Beckett, and it seemed excruciatingly long. We needed to wait 12 hours to see if the Cervidil had succeeded or not.
The nurses were nice enough to find your dad a cot so went to bed, the last good night sleep we had. I was given and Ambien to help me get to bed and tried to ignore the beeping of all the monitors.
Wednesday, June 10: Laboring
When I woke up, I noticed that I was having minor contractions, and that I was really uncomfortable. Dr. Fine came around 8:30 a.m. and removed the Cervidil application. It was incredibly painful and burned so much that I started to cry. Her internal exam made me writhe in pain. It turns out that I was allergic to the medication and had a bad reaction that was causing me to swell and burn, very convenient when anticipating labor.
The positive? It worked! I was 2 cm dilated and 80% effaced. Dr. Fine advised that I start working with my contractions so your dad and I decided to stay in the hospital and not go home to labor as originally planned.
It was still early when I first started to believe that I might not be able to do this. We had originally told our doula to come after lunch, but after a few hours of whimpering, I asked your dad to call her. I took a shower in an attempt to relax. The water felt good on my back, but I started getting very sleepy. I wanted to lie down in the bed, but every time I did, I would get nauseous and start to gag. My back was in unbelievable pain, but none of the recommended back labor positions were working for me, so I just started to cry again.
I don’t remember how long I cried, but while I did, your dad put all of my focal points and pictures on the bed: a picture of the beach on Long Island, a picture of the beach on Longboat Key when your dad and I went to spring training in Florida, and a rock that had the word “grace” carved into it, a present from our minister, Dan, for when your dad was first dealing with his hearing loss. I sat on the birthing ball and tried to focus on them. The only two positions that seemed to give me any relief were the ball and sitting in the rocking chair where I was able to doze off for a little bit.
The contractions were hard, but in between, I was able to talk a little and walk around. I don’t remember when Ananda, our doula, arrived, but I think it was around noon. I was in the middle of a contraction, crying, with my eyes closed when I felt another set of hands on me. Ananda and your dad kept massaging me and helping me through back labor, one of the most painful kinds of labor (or so I read). They would push down as hard as they could on my back to apply counter pressure, but I was still in incredible pain.
Around mid afternoon, Dr. Fine came in for a status check. I was dilated to 5 cm, but you were still facing the wrong direction, sunny side up, and she wanted me to walk around to try and get you turned around. The next couple of hours were a blur, and I don’t remember time as much as just pain. Your dad figured out a system that helped me manage the pain a little bit better. He would watch the contractions on the monitor and shout out to me when they were peaking. I would cry and scream, “I need this to be over,” and he we would yell, “almost over” or “done, done.” That was the only thing keeping me sane.
They were also worried about me not eating and needing the strength to continue through. Months earlier, when we were at a “Meet the Doctors” session at the hospital, one of the doctors mentioned that women wouldn’t be worried or thinking about food while In labor. At the time, I couldn’t imagine any situation in which I would not be thinking about what to eat, but they were right. All the carefully prepared healthy snacks we had picked up before going to the hospital seemed disgusting to me. Against my will, I ate a banana that Ananda offered and your dad smeared with peanut butter. That was probably the worst banana I have ever eaten. Your dad left to make some phone calls, and Ananda helped me, still whimpering about wanting to go home, to the bed. I think I was lying down for about five minutes, when I suddenly shouted, “puke. PUKE.” Ananda grabbed a basin just in time for me to vomit up everything. Worst Banana in the World: 1. Me: 0.
We decided I should take a bath to try and deal with the pain. I took a pillow into the tub and sat in the water while your father poured warm water over my belly. It was relaxing, but I didn’t like being away from our “system.” The contractions seemed worse when I didn’t know that they would be ending.
I had another status check and had progressed to 6 cm, but things weren’t moving as fast as the doctors would like. You still weren’t descending. And the contractions just kept getting worse, with the back pain not lessening. Your dad and Ananda suggested I try another position to try and turn you. My most vivid memory of this part of labor was kneeling on the bed with my face and limbs wrapped around the top part of it, just screaming bloody murder and crying. I felt delirious and kept saying that I wanted it all to be over with and that I wanted to go home. I was pretty sure that we were nearing dinnertime, and I just knew that at only 6 cm and several hours into labor, that I would not be able to manage the pain on my own. I started begging for drugs, but your dad and Ananda told me to take it one contraction at a time. I don’t know how long I did that, but finally, I burst out crying again with an “I am not fucking around. I need some help. Please! Please!”
We called Dr. Fine and she went over our options. I still knew that I didn’t want an epidural. I wanted to be able to move around and to feel you, so I opted for a narcotic. The shot of Nubane must have been enormous because two weeks later, I still have a bruise, but it was such a relief. I could still feel my contractions, but they felt more like those from the early morning – the ones that I thought were totally not manageable at the time. I was able to relax a little. Your dad and Ananda ate dinner. We watched the second Yankees-Red Sox game. The Yankees lost. Again.
Thursday, June 11: Birthday
I don’t remember a lot of what happened next, but after a few hours, the narcotic started to wear off. The contractions were back and painful, but they hadn’t sped up. My labor was starting to stall out at 7 cm and I was feeling everything. Still, you hadn’t descended.
I managed through a few contractions, but then I asked Dr. Fine if I could get another shot. She wanted me to try and get things moving on my own and suggested I take a bath or a walk. Your dad and Ananda got me up and we did several laps around the L&D ward, stopping whenever I would have a contraction. One of the awesome night nurses kept telling me how great I looked and to keep going. We walked over to the post-partum wing and watched a little baby in the nursery getting cleaned up. Your dad kept me reminding me that you were coming soon, and we looked out the window at the Charles River at night. We walked back and I received my second Nubane shot.
At that point, we all tried to sleep. Ananda slept on a mat on the floor, and your dad slept on a chair next to me with his head on the bed. When he would hear me cry out during a contraction, he would grab my hand in his sleep. Dr. Fine checked me again, and I had progressed to 9.5 cm but still needed to efface more. You had descended a little, but not enough. At this point, she told me that we were probably looking at several more hours before being able to push. The narcotic was wearing off, and I was exhausted so sometime around 4 a.m., almost 24 hours in, I decided to get the epidural. I wanted the strength to be able to push and knew I couldn’t handle another few hours of contractions.
Your dad and Ananda had to leave the room, and I had to stay with the one nurse who had been brusque and rude earlier. When the anesthiologist came and expressed disbelief that someone would get an epidural at 9.5 cm, she immediately warmed up and said that I had been through enough and held my shoulders as I battled and shook through my next set of contractions, crying. We had problems getting the needle in, and he thought he might need to retry, but then everything came together. The relief was immediate. It was hard to remember what I had been so scared of. Your dad and Ananda came back, and we all went to bed.
Around 6 or 7 a.m., Dr. Fine came back and checked me again. I was exactly the same as I was a few hours prior. We decided to break my water to see if that would speed things up. Even that was problematic. She had to try a few times before the bag would finally break, and when it did, I was happy I was in the hospital. This was no small trickle. More like an endless gush. Dr. Fine started talking about the possibility of a C-Section if you didn’t descend more, but she wanted to give me more time to labor.
Her shift ended at 8, and I was turned over to Dr. Liau. She went through the same explanations as Dr. Fine and told me that I had finally progressed to 10 cm, but still hadn’t descended. She thought we should give you more time and then try to push you down. We waited. Your dad made some phone calls. The nurses prepped the room.
When it came time to start pushing, I was asked to roll onto my back. I had been on my side for hours in the hopes that it would move you face down and further into the birth canal. On my back, your heart rate plummeted and there was frantic activity to get me back on my side. We tried again, but the same thing happened. And again. They gave me an oxygen mask that stayed on for the duration of my labor.
Dr. Liau again explained our options. We could try to push, and then run the risk of an emergency C if you continued to get into trouble, or we could choose to get a C-section and give them time to prep the operating room and me. It my choice, but I desperately wanted someone to tell me what to do.
Your dad and I asked everyone to leave and I just looked at him. He started to cry which made me cry and said he couldn’t watch me go through any more pain only to end up in an emergency situation. I was so tired and afraid of you being hurt. I opted for the C-section.
We called everyone back in the room and they told us how things would work. At that moment, I really wanted to make sure I saw my parents before the operation and kept asking your dad if they were there yet. When they finally arrived, he let them in and I started to cry and said I just couldn’t do it anymore, that I needed to get you out. Your pop-pop told me not to cry and held my hand and kissed it. I was still holding the Grace rock. Your nana told me not to worry.
Then it seemed like we were waiting for hours. An earlier C-section was finishing up and the doctor preferred to wait until the main operating room was open instead of using the emergency back up. A woman scheduled to have a C with twins was bumped for me, and I felt guilty.
Then it was time. Your dad needed to stay in the room and change into scrubs while I was wheeled into the OR. It was then that I realized I was having an operation. I was staring at the bright white lights on the ceiling, and it felt like I was in a movie. The doctors administered my second epidural and did a number of tests. I was paranoid about feeling the cut and kept telling them, “I feel that” for every little twinge. They assured me that it was normal. They covered my belly with an antiseptic and then brought your dad in. He looked cute in scrubs, but I could barely listen to him talking because I was so scared.
He held my hand and stroked my hair. I forgot to tell the doctors that I wanted to hear what was going on, and they were so many people talking it sounded like everything was an emergency. It didn’t hurt, but I just felt a lot of pressure and discomfort. Then they told me that I would feel a LOT of pressure when they took you out. It felt like ten people were leaning on my stomach, and I may have cried. And then your dad and I thought we heard a cry.
The anesthesiologist told us he could see and said that we had a healthy baby. We asked if you were a boy or girl, but he couldn’t see so it was a few seconds before he declared, “it’s a girl!” Your dad and I laughed in shock because we were so sure that you would be a boy. And then we both started to cry. Your dad looked at you and he tearily told me that you were beautiful. I had my glasses on, but all I could see was your big shock of hair and squirming limbs. It old your dad to take a picture and show it to me and cried when I saw you. The doctors let him bring you over to me and I saw your big eyes, and he held us cheek to cheek. More tears. I didn’t want to let you go.
You were 9 lbs, 2 oz and 21.5 inches long, born at 11:47 am. The nurses had to take you to the nursery while I was getting sewn up. Your dad stayed with me for a bit before going to be with you. Under the lights, I got the post-epidural shakes and went through four warming blankets. I shook so badly that I needed to hold the sides of the table. I was exhausted, but channeling Lifetime movies and afraid that I might die and leave your father a widow with a new newborn if I closed my eyes, so I willed myself awake.
My stitches were in, and then I was sluggishly transferred back to my bed and wheeled back to the birthing room. Your dad, Ananda and your grandparents wheeled you in shortly after. We tried to nurse immediately and I felt your skin on mine for the first time and watched you root around, amazed that you knew what to do.
And then our adventure began.
Love,
Mommy
Dear Zygote –
This is your birth story. Even though I, your mother, consider myself a writer, I had a hard time describing the monsoon of emotions that came up during your last few weeks in utero and your eventual birth. These are just the details. Maybe someday we will get to the emotional part, but I wanted to remember everything before it started to fade away. Also, I know my grammar sucks. And yes, this is hard for a writer. We’ll deal.
Your Due Date: June 2, 2009
Your dad and I went to see Dr. Fine at Harvard Vanguard and you were still looking very big and hadn’t descended. She sent us to get an ultrasound to check your size, and we drove across the city to Boston Ultrasound in Brookline through tons of traffic and ended up waiting for an hour to be seen. Two different people took your measurements. One put you at 9 lbs, 3 oz. and the other put you much over. An average of 9 lbs, 10 oz was determined. Dr. Fine was worried about you being over 10 lbs and me not being able to push you out. We spoke that afternoon and she felt that someone my height and weight could push out a 10 pounder. I was happy. I didn’t want to schedule a C-section.
Your dad and I drove out to Ayer and picked up your big sister, Jessica, from your grandparents’ house. We had pasta for dinner and watched The Simpsons, one of Jess’ favorite shows.
The Next Week
Over the course of the next week, I did everything that I could to get you to drop or get my cervix dilated and effaced. I went to the gym almost every day and took walks around our neighborhood. We also tried evening primrose oil, red raspberry leaf tea, spicy food—all things I had previously dismissed as “hippie shit.” Then we set up the breast pump and I would sit on the exercise ball and bounce, hoping something would happen. We looked at my belly in the mirror every day and convinced ourselves that you were moving. We also spent a lot of time going out to eat with friends, figuring we’d be pretty cooped up after you were born. Sol and Brandon came over for ice cream, and Matt, who was visiting from San Francisco, came over twice. Your Nana Bonnie called every day to check your status. On Sunday, we even snuck in some last meal out at Harvest, waiting for your arrival. On the menu – apple cinnamon pierogies, huevos rancheros and lemon semifreddo for dessert.
We did some chores around the house on Sunday and planned on eating light that evening, but we finally met our “new” neighbors and they invited us over for steaks on their back porch. Of course, we said yes and even joked that it was the sort of random thing that happened in other people’s birth stories. We were still hoping you might come out on your own. You had other plans.
Monday, June 8
We went back to see Dr. Fine. You were still pretty high and I wasn’t dilated at all, so we decided to do an induction on Tuesday night to see if we could get things moving. Your dad and I went home and finished our chores and errands. I told work that it would be my last day and happily put on my out-of-office response for the next 16 weeks. I also did laundry and gave the cats extra food. We then walked up to the gym for one last workout together in the hopes of exercising you out. No such luck.
We then decided on dessert before dinner and went for ice cream at JP Licks before picking up a pizza at Mike’s for home. I ate about a third of that pizza, knowing that I wouldn’t have much of an appetite for the next few days. Then we just went home and relaxed.
Tuesday, June 9: Induction Day
I slept late that morning and let Alistair, one of our cats, stay in bed with me longer than normal. Your dad had some work emails to finish up so I read some books and burned CDs for the hospital. It was a rainy day so I couldn’t go for a walk, but your dad and I decided we wanted one last adult lunch in Davis Square before your birth. We broke out the umbrellas and headed up to Blue Shirt Café and ordered our usual: a wrap to split and vegetable soups. I don’t remember what exactly we talked about, but your dad was probably talking me off the ledge as usual. I was VERY nervous about your arrival. As is my typical way, I was totally logistically prepared for your birth, but emotionally, I was a wreck. I was afraid of labor, scared of screwing you up and afraid of messing up the good relationship your dad and I have. I was worried about being a mom. Your dad has been through this before so he understood.
We decided to get something sweet and headed over to Mr. Crepe to split a chocolate and banana crepe and decaf café au laits. The guy working the counter was sweet, and when he found out I was being induced that afternoon, he told us he was happy we chose to spend our day there.
After lunch, we walked back to the house and double-checked our bags. More typical behavior for your dad and I. We always double check in the event that our items decided to make a break from the bags when we weren’t looking. At 3:30, I called the hospital and they instructed me to come over after dinner. They told me to eat at home where the food was better. We snuggled in the bed for a while, talked about what you might be like, and made some veggie burgers for dinner that we ate while watching bad t.v. on the couch.
We called our families and the doula to let them know what was going on and headed over to Mt. Auburn Hospital. We almost left our second bag in the car because we assumed that with your position, the induction wouldn’t work and that we’d be going home the next day. Our doula told us that happened frequently with first pregnancies so we worked out a preferred schedule of when we would go home and what induction methods we would try next.
In Labor and Delivery, we were assigned a room and I changed into my johnnie gown. Another doctor, Dr. Andersen, came in and explained how the Cervidil application would work, and then waited for the order to be placed. It came quickly and burned immediately. We settled in and watched the Yankees/Red Sox game. The Yankees played horribly; losing 7-0, Burnett vs. Beckett, and it seemed excruciatingly long. We needed to wait 12 hours to see if the Cervidil had succeeded or not.
The nurses were nice enough to find your dad a cot so went to bed, the last good night sleep we had. I was given and Ambien to help me get to bed and tried to ignore the beeping of all the monitors.
Wednesday, June 10: Laboring
When I woke up, I noticed that I was having minor contractions, and that I was really uncomfortable. Dr. Fine came around 8:30 a.m. and removed the Cervidil application. It was incredibly painful and burned so much that I started to cry. Her internal exam made me writhe in pain. It turns out that I was allergic to the medication and had a bad reaction that was causing me to swell and burn, very convenient when anticipating labor.
The positive? It worked! I was 2 cm dilated and 80% effaced. Dr. Fine advised that I start working with my contractions so your dad and I decided to stay in the hospital and not go home to labor as originally planned.
It was still early when I first started to believe that I might not be able to do this. We had originally told our doula to come after lunch, but after a few hours of whimpering, I asked your dad to call her. I took a shower in an attempt to relax. The water felt good on my back, but I started getting very sleepy. I wanted to lie down in the bed, but every time I did, I would get nauseous and start to gag. My back was in unbelievable pain, but none of the recommended back labor positions were working for me, so I just started to cry again.
I don’t remember how long I cried, but while I did, your dad put all of my focal points and pictures on the bed: a picture of the beach on Long Island, a picture of the beach on Longboat Key when your dad and I went to spring training in Florida, and a rock that had the word “grace” carved into it, a present from our minister, Dan, for when your dad was first dealing with his hearing loss. I sat on the birthing ball and tried to focus on them. The only two positions that seemed to give me any relief were the ball and sitting in the rocking chair where I was able to doze off for a little bit.
The contractions were hard, but in between, I was able to talk a little and walk around. I don’t remember when Ananda, our doula, arrived, but I think it was around noon. I was in the middle of a contraction, crying, with my eyes closed when I felt another set of hands on me. Ananda and your dad kept massaging me and helping me through back labor, one of the most painful kinds of labor (or so I read). They would push down as hard as they could on my back to apply counter pressure, but I was still in incredible pain.
Around mid afternoon, Dr. Fine came in for a status check. I was dilated to 5 cm, but you were still facing the wrong direction, sunny side up, and she wanted me to walk around to try and get you turned around. The next couple of hours were a blur, and I don’t remember time as much as just pain. Your dad figured out a system that helped me manage the pain a little bit better. He would watch the contractions on the monitor and shout out to me when they were peaking. I would cry and scream, “I need this to be over,” and he we would yell, “almost over” or “done, done.” That was the only thing keeping me sane.
They were also worried about me not eating and needing the strength to continue through. Months earlier, when we were at a “Meet the Doctors” session at the hospital, one of the doctors mentioned that women wouldn’t be worried or thinking about food while In labor. At the time, I couldn’t imagine any situation in which I would not be thinking about what to eat, but they were right. All the carefully prepared healthy snacks we had picked up before going to the hospital seemed disgusting to me. Against my will, I ate a banana that Ananda offered and your dad smeared with peanut butter. That was probably the worst banana I have ever eaten. Your dad left to make some phone calls, and Ananda helped me, still whimpering about wanting to go home, to the bed. I think I was lying down for about five minutes, when I suddenly shouted, “puke. PUKE.” Ananda grabbed a basin just in time for me to vomit up everything. Worst Banana in the World: 1. Me: 0.
We decided I should take a bath to try and deal with the pain. I took a pillow into the tub and sat in the water while your father poured warm water over my belly. It was relaxing, but I didn’t like being away from our “system.” The contractions seemed worse when I didn’t know that they would be ending.
I had another status check and had progressed to 6 cm, but things weren’t moving as fast as the doctors would like. You still weren’t descending. And the contractions just kept getting worse, with the back pain not lessening. Your dad and Ananda suggested I try another position to try and turn you. My most vivid memory of this part of labor was kneeling on the bed with my face and limbs wrapped around the top part of it, just screaming bloody murder and crying. I felt delirious and kept saying that I wanted it all to be over with and that I wanted to go home. I was pretty sure that we were nearing dinnertime, and I just knew that at only 6 cm and several hours into labor, that I would not be able to manage the pain on my own. I started begging for drugs, but your dad and Ananda told me to take it one contraction at a time. I don’t know how long I did that, but finally, I burst out crying again with an “I am not fucking around. I need some help. Please! Please!”
We called Dr. Fine and she went over our options. I still knew that I didn’t want an epidural. I wanted to be able to move around and to feel you, so I opted for a narcotic. The shot of Nubane must have been enormous because two weeks later, I still have a bruise, but it was such a relief. I could still feel my contractions, but they felt more like those from the early morning – the ones that I thought were totally not manageable at the time. I was able to relax a little. Your dad and Ananda ate dinner. We watched the second Yankees-Red Sox game. The Yankees lost. Again.
Thursday, June 11: Birthday
I don’t remember a lot of what happened next, but after a few hours, the narcotic started to wear off. The contractions were back and painful, but they hadn’t sped up. My labor was starting to stall out at 7 cm and I was feeling everything. Still, you hadn’t descended.
I managed through a few contractions, but then I asked Dr. Fine if I could get another shot. She wanted me to try and get things moving on my own and suggested I take a bath or a walk. Your dad and Ananda got me up and we did several laps around the L&D ward, stopping whenever I would have a contraction. One of the awesome night nurses kept telling me how great I looked and to keep going. We walked over to the post-partum wing and watched a little baby in the nursery getting cleaned up. Your dad kept me reminding me that you were coming soon, and we looked out the window at the Charles River at night. We walked back and I received my second Nubane shot.
At that point, we all tried to sleep. Ananda slept on a mat on the floor, and your dad slept on a chair next to me with his head on the bed. When he would hear me cry out during a contraction, he would grab my hand in his sleep. Dr. Fine checked me again, and I had progressed to 9.5 cm but still needed to efface more. You had descended a little, but not enough. At this point, she told me that we were probably looking at several more hours before being able to push. The narcotic was wearing off, and I was exhausted so sometime around 4 a.m., almost 24 hours in, I decided to get the epidural. I wanted the strength to be able to push and knew I couldn’t handle another few hours of contractions.
Your dad and Ananda had to leave the room, and I had to stay with the one nurse who had been brusque and rude earlier. When the anesthiologist came and expressed disbelief that someone would get an epidural at 9.5 cm, she immediately warmed up and said that I had been through enough and held my shoulders as I battled and shook through my next set of contractions, crying. We had problems getting the needle in, and he thought he might need to retry, but then everything came together. The relief was immediate. It was hard to remember what I had been so scared of. Your dad and Ananda came back, and we all went to bed.
Around 6 or 7 a.m., Dr. Fine came back and checked me again. I was exactly the same as I was a few hours prior. We decided to break my water to see if that would speed things up. Even that was problematic. She had to try a few times before the bag would finally break, and when it did, I was happy I was in the hospital. This was no small trickle. More like an endless gush. Dr. Fine started talking about the possibility of a C-Section if you didn’t descend more, but she wanted to give me more time to labor.
Her shift ended at 8, and I was turned over to Dr. Liau. She went through the same explanations as Dr. Fine and told me that I had finally progressed to 10 cm, but still hadn’t descended. She thought we should give you more time and then try to push you down. We waited. Your dad made some phone calls. The nurses prepped the room.
When it came time to start pushing, I was asked to roll onto my back. I had been on my side for hours in the hopes that it would move you face down and further into the birth canal. On my back, your heart rate plummeted and there was frantic activity to get me back on my side. We tried again, but the same thing happened. And again. They gave me an oxygen mask that stayed on for the duration of my labor.
Dr. Liau again explained our options. We could try to push, and then run the risk of an emergency C if you continued to get into trouble, or we could choose to get a C-section and give them time to prep the operating room and me. It my choice, but I desperately wanted someone to tell me what to do.
Your dad and I asked everyone to leave and I just looked at him. He started to cry which made me cry and said he couldn’t watch me go through any more pain only to end up in an emergency situation. I was so tired and afraid of you being hurt. I opted for the C-section.
We called everyone back in the room and they told us how things would work. At that moment, I really wanted to make sure I saw my parents before the operation and kept asking your dad if they were there yet. When they finally arrived, he let them in and I started to cry and said I just couldn’t do it anymore, that I needed to get you out. Your pop-pop told me not to cry and held my hand and kissed it. I was still holding the Grace rock. Your nana told me not to worry.
Then it seemed like we were waiting for hours. An earlier C-section was finishing up and the doctor preferred to wait until the main operating room was open instead of using the emergency back up. A woman scheduled to have a C with twins was bumped for me, and I felt guilty.
Then it was time. Your dad needed to stay in the room and change into scrubs while I was wheeled into the OR. It was then that I realized I was having an operation. I was staring at the bright white lights on the ceiling, and it felt like I was in a movie. The doctors administered my second epidural and did a number of tests. I was paranoid about feeling the cut and kept telling them, “I feel that” for every little twinge. They assured me that it was normal. They covered my belly with an antiseptic and then brought your dad in. He looked cute in scrubs, but I could barely listen to him talking because I was so scared.
He held my hand and stroked my hair. I forgot to tell the doctors that I wanted to hear what was going on, and they were so many people talking it sounded like everything was an emergency. It didn’t hurt, but I just felt a lot of pressure and discomfort. Then they told me that I would feel a LOT of pressure when they took you out. It felt like ten people were leaning on my stomach, and I may have cried. And then your dad and I thought we heard a cry.
The anesthesiologist told us he could see and said that we had a healthy baby. We asked if you were a boy or girl, but he couldn’t see so it was a few seconds before he declared, “it’s a girl!” Your dad and I laughed in shock because we were so sure that you would be a boy. And then we both started to cry. Your dad looked at you and he tearily told me that you were beautiful. I had my glasses on, but all I could see was your big shock of hair and squirming limbs. It old your dad to take a picture and show it to me and cried when I saw you. The doctors let him bring you over to me and I saw your big eyes, and he held us cheek to cheek. More tears. I didn’t want to let you go.
You were 9 lbs, 2 oz and 21.5 inches long, born at 11:47 am. The nurses had to take you to the nursery while I was getting sewn up. Your dad stayed with me for a bit before going to be with you. Under the lights, I got the post-epidural shakes and went through four warming blankets. I shook so badly that I needed to hold the sides of the table. I was exhausted, but channeling Lifetime movies and afraid that I might die and leave your father a widow with a new newborn if I closed my eyes, so I willed myself awake.
My stitches were in, and then I was sluggishly transferred back to my bed and wheeled back to the birthing room. Your dad, Ananda and your grandparents wheeled you in shortly after. We tried to nurse immediately and I felt your skin on mine for the first time and watched you root around, amazed that you knew what to do.
And then our adventure began.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Still Here
Still hanging out. Z is still up there. We will find out on Monday if I've made any progress.
Words I hope I never hear again for a while: nipple stimulation, cervical ripening, etc.
Plus side: one more weekend to do absolutely nothing.
Words I hope I never hear again for a while: nipple stimulation, cervical ripening, etc.
Plus side: one more weekend to do absolutely nothing.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Recently Read and Watched
Read
1. Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles -- I first heard about this book on NPR last year and immediately loved the concept of being inspired to write a novel while waiting at O'Hare Airport, where you ALWAYS end up delayed. It was a quick read, but great. I liked the main character even though he reminded me a little too much of drunken, sobbing poets I know. It's funny how you can love a character, but be less enamored by the real-life translation.
2. Writer Mama: How to Raise A Writing Career Alongside Your Kids by Christina Katz: Another quick read. It's much more suited to women who don't have other full-time work, but there were a lot of good tips on query letters and figuring out your target markets. I'm in the middle of that excercise right now, so it was helpful.
In other news, I got another rejection letter. But again, it was a personalized rejection. Woo hoo?
3. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski: Oh, boy, did I love this book. Almost 600 pages and I finished in a couple of nights. It was the "it" book last year, and I didn't think I'd like it because really, 600 pages about dogs? I don't even like dogs that much. But the writing is so beautiful and vivid, and the dogs as characters are so interesting and intense. I knew it was a take on Hamlet, but I still gasped and cried a little at each plot twist. Highly recommended.
Watched
1. Rescue Me is back on. I think this may be my favorite show on t.v. Is Denis Leary a dick? Yes. Do I care? No.
2. We went to see the new Star Trek last weekend. This was YG's doing. He never wins in the "what should we see?" debates, so I indulged him and it was actually really good. Good story and plot. Attractive people do not hurt either.
3. I've been ordering My So-Called Life on Netflix. I remember the season this show came on. It was my freshman year of college and we would watch it in the room I shared with Steph in Lawrinson. NN and I were obsessed with it, and I still have letters from our first summer home, with quotes from the show scattered across the envelopes and margins. It holds up over time. I am still Angela Chase.
I am expecting a lot of Netflix time over the next few months.
1. Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles -- I first heard about this book on NPR last year and immediately loved the concept of being inspired to write a novel while waiting at O'Hare Airport, where you ALWAYS end up delayed. It was a quick read, but great. I liked the main character even though he reminded me a little too much of drunken, sobbing poets I know. It's funny how you can love a character, but be less enamored by the real-life translation.
2. Writer Mama: How to Raise A Writing Career Alongside Your Kids by Christina Katz: Another quick read. It's much more suited to women who don't have other full-time work, but there were a lot of good tips on query letters and figuring out your target markets. I'm in the middle of that excercise right now, so it was helpful.
In other news, I got another rejection letter. But again, it was a personalized rejection. Woo hoo?
3. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski: Oh, boy, did I love this book. Almost 600 pages and I finished in a couple of nights. It was the "it" book last year, and I didn't think I'd like it because really, 600 pages about dogs? I don't even like dogs that much. But the writing is so beautiful and vivid, and the dogs as characters are so interesting and intense. I knew it was a take on Hamlet, but I still gasped and cried a little at each plot twist. Highly recommended.
Watched
1. Rescue Me is back on. I think this may be my favorite show on t.v. Is Denis Leary a dick? Yes. Do I care? No.
2. We went to see the new Star Trek last weekend. This was YG's doing. He never wins in the "what should we see?" debates, so I indulged him and it was actually really good. Good story and plot. Attractive people do not hurt either.
3. I've been ordering My So-Called Life on Netflix. I remember the season this show came on. It was my freshman year of college and we would watch it in the room I shared with Steph in Lawrinson. NN and I were obsessed with it, and I still have letters from our first summer home, with quotes from the show scattered across the envelopes and margins. It holds up over time. I am still Angela Chase.
I am expecting a lot of Netflix time over the next few months.
This Is What Zygote's Due Date Looks Like
So, the chances of me having this kid anytime today are probably slim to none. S/he hasn’t even started descending yet, and there’s basically nothing going on. My doctor couldn't even feel my cervix to check progress without some major discomfort (read: hand in my vag), and she couldn't feel the head after. The good news was that Zygote seemed super happy on the heartrate monitor and is still healthy.
My doc still had some concerns about the size of this kids, given that we're probably looking at another week. She wanted me to go get an ultrasound to get a read on the size and said that if we were looking at an 11 lb. kid still, she wanted to at least discuss the possibility of a scheduled C. This did not make me happy. She said that, at my size, she definitely thinks I am capable of birthing a 10 lb kid, but she wanted better data.
We went over to the ultrasound place, on the other side of the city in Brookline, in a shit ton of traffic. Grumble. Brookline is my personal hell -- I always get lost and there's never enough parking. I called my doula on the way over, and she was great in calming me down and telling me that the ultrasound would probably put me more at ease and then I could examine my options regarding inductions, Cs, etc. She's also sending me a bunch of information about birthing big babies, and I will follow her advice, spending the next few days getting it on and feeling my tits.
I had two different doctors measure me, and the average size they came out with was 9lbs, 10 oz. give or take approx 20 oz. Take please.
When I left my regular doc's office this morning, our plan was to try and let things happen naturally this week, and recheck at my appointment next Monday. If I haven’t delivered by then or shown any progress, we would schedule an induction or the C-section (depending on ultrasound results), most likely for the middle of next week. I talked to the doula and said I was okay with the idea of induction, and she agreed that it would be the next logical step if that's where we ended up.
The doc called this evening to discuss the results. I told her that I don't want to schedule a C. I don't think it's necessary and it's too early to make that call. If I end up needing one, that's fine, but I want to try to labor. Also, it's a major operation, so if I can avoid that, I want to. She agreed that this was the best course of action and reiterated that she thinks I'm capable of delivering a 10 lber.
So there you have it.
Two conflicting thoughts I have had all day (or, this is the crazy that is my brain):
1. Upon hearing that someone of "my size" is capable of delivering a 10 lb baby: Normal people can't do this, but you, lard ass, totally can. The ultrasound doctor even said, "You're a big girl. You can do this." Note that I never read "big" as strong, healthy, capable.
2. Upon hearing that having a 10lb baby means I will be dropping a full third of the weight I gained in the hospital and "you are all baby. You may even end up losing weight after this": ooooooh.....oooooohhhh.....Stop thinking about your weight. Start thinking about your kid. But, oooohhh.
Full frontal shot:
Friday, May 29, 2009
Fugitive from The Garden State
I always thought there might be something romantic about being a fugitive. But as with many things in my life, I did not know I was actually something until after it occurred.
Scene One: The Watertown, MA Registry of Motor Vehicles
I enter the mall (by the way, who puts a RMV in the mall?) around 9:40 a.m. intending to update my license with my not-so-new last name. I read the hours on the website wrong and the RMV doesn't actually open until 10. The line is already out the door, and I end up behind a guy who is bitching non-stop about having to wait and how the RMV takes too long and blah, blah, blah, his tax dollars at work. Around this time, I realize that I forgot both my book and my magazine so I either have to go zen or actually engage with this idiot. I turn inward and start counting the ceiling tiles, and then playing with my Blackberry. I actually work and send a few emails. Twenty minutes pass, the gate goes up, and the line starts moving. Twenty five minutes later, and I'm handed my paperwork to fill out.
The place is ridiculously crowded and I pace the aisles hoping that somebody will give the pregnant lady a seat. Nobody makes eye contact. A seat opens up, and a teenage boy and I both lunge for it. He plops down, but his mother comes by, whacks him and makes him get up. I journal a little about the crazy in my head, get bored, and engage in a few rigorous rounds of Brickbreaker. My number, B235, gets called.
The kid processing me is a newbie. It's his first day of work, and he's making a lot of mistakes. He also doesn't quite get the difference between my original last name and my new pretentious, hyphenated last name. We go back and forth multiple times, but I finally hand over my Social Security Card and just tell him to copy it. I should be annoyed, but he's a sweet kid. I say I didn't want a new picture because of how "fat" I was now, and he goes out of his way to tell me how cute I am and how I don't look different at all from the neck up. He takes the card and my license and puts the license in a "to be destroyed" pile.
We're almost finished and the kid says, "Um, I'm sorry, but I can't update your MA license because of your, um,....'trouble' in NJ." I ask what trouble. He tells me the 'trouble' from May 2007. I tell him that I have lived in Mass since June 2006 and ask him to double check the social security number. He calls a supervisor. She checks and tells me that I have an outstanding conviction and possibly an outstanding warrant for my arrest in NJ. What for? They can't tell. They feel bad for me because I am horrendously pregnant and sweaty, so they say they'll call, but the number for the NJ DMV has a 45 minute wait. They apologize and tell me they can't wait that long, and that if I get it resolved, they'll be more than happy to process my license change.
I don't freak out. I just ask for my license back, so that I can drive home. "Um, well, in situations like this, we're actually supposed to keep your license." And, the kid adds, "I think I'm supposed to report you to the police." Again, I do not freak out. I tell them that my due date is Tuesday and that I'm probably not a flight risk and that I have never even gotten a speeding ticket in my life, and could they please help me out because I am about to have a baby and I need some photo ID for the hospital and need to be able to drive? They agree. When they turn around to find my license in "to be destroyed pile," they realize that the licenses have been moved, presumably to the place where they are to be destroyed. The kid runs into another room, and after several moments of more ceiling-tile counting and avoiding pitying stares from strangers, he comes back. "Got it!" He hands it over, and everyone tells me to have a good day and to come back when I have my 'trouble' taken care of. I am convinced that they're only being this nice to me because I am quite literally waddling.
Scene Two: Comfort Feeding
I go into the convenience store next door, buy a king size Hershey bar and a package of Parmesan goldfish, and eat them all in the 10 minute drive back home. YG is on a conference call and gives me the thumbs up. I motion BIG thumbs down.
Scene Three: Please Wait for The Next Available Representative
I call the NJ DMV. I'm on hold for 42 minutes. There is muzak interrupted every few minutes by a voice recording telling me that they are very sorry for the wait and I will be handled by the next available representative. This bothers me more than actually holding. Many loud sighs follow.
I get through to a woman that tells me that yes, I have a warrant out for my arrest in NJ because I never told my insurance company that I moved out of state (I just let the policy lapse when I got a new one up here) and I never turned in my old plates. She says that they sent me notifications 5 times, but they were returned to sender. I asked where they sent them. To my old NJ address, of course. She then tells me that I'll have to talk to the uninsured motorists division, but that I'll probably have to pay a fine of several hundred dollars to rectify this. She, is, to put it mildly, unfriendly. I am reminded that I sometimes DON'T miss home.
I wait on hold again for 25 minutes to talk to the uninsured motorists division. I have a conference call for work that I need to be on and try to figure out a way to explain what I'm doing instead. I send a short email. I wonder if my coworkers think that I am either prone to general unluckiness or just a big exaggerator. I put this latest story in the context of other ridiculous events that have kept me from work and think it's the latter. There was: The Time I Locked Myself Out of The House With Everything Inside, The Time I Had An Allergic Reaction to My Own Skin And Had to Spend A Week Slathered In A Vaseline-like Substance, The Time I Sprained My Chest Wall and Couldn't Get Out of Bed, and so on. I wonder how I still have a job.
I finally get through to a woman named Lisa Ann who is gruff, but tells me exactly what I need to do. I miss home. Basically, I have to fax in proof that I registered the car elsewhere prior to May 2007, along with current license and registration, to waive the fine and remove the warrant. I am a pack rack, so my registration from December 2006 is quickly located in the black hole of junk otherwise known as my glove compartment. I have 40 minutes before my rescheduled conference call to get up to the business center at Staples to print out my intention to destroy my NJ plates, make copies of the registration and fax it all to Lisa Ann.
Scene Four: Which of Dante's Layers Is This?
I waddle as quickly as I can, and am confronted by a line much like the DMV. It must be Senior Citizens' Day at Staples, because a number of Biblical-era aged folks are milling around waiting to make copies and scanning old photographs. Nobody knows how to use any of the "self-service" machines. My zen from earlier is starting to wane, and I roll my eyes and sigh. A lot. I feel bad, but can't help myself. I finally get access to a copier. Out of paper. I wait again. I wait for the one employee to print out the letter saved on my USB stick, but he has to help a man printing out fliers, and all shades of yellow paper are not sufficiently yellow enough. Finally, I am ready to fax. Another line. Busy signals. General annoyance.
Finally, it is over. I have five minutes to get home and get on the phone. I race out of there, and am turning the key in the ignition when I realize that I left my current license and registration on the copy machine. More waddling, and then finally I am home, and on the phone, trying to explain my lawless state.
Scene Five: Redemption
Lisa Ann calls an hour later to tell me that I am cleared and that everything will be dropped from my record. I thank her profusely. I sit and think of all the times that I could have been carted off to jail in the past two years -- all the times that I ran the red light on Fairchild, all the times I sped on the Parkway, all the times I parked illegally, all the times I forgot my EZPass and went through the lane anyway. I wonder how I managed to stay so hidden. I am a relatively easy person to find.
I finally get around to laughing about it. Then I remember that I still need to go back to the RMV.
Scene One: The Watertown, MA Registry of Motor Vehicles
I enter the mall (by the way, who puts a RMV in the mall?) around 9:40 a.m. intending to update my license with my not-so-new last name. I read the hours on the website wrong and the RMV doesn't actually open until 10. The line is already out the door, and I end up behind a guy who is bitching non-stop about having to wait and how the RMV takes too long and blah, blah, blah, his tax dollars at work. Around this time, I realize that I forgot both my book and my magazine so I either have to go zen or actually engage with this idiot. I turn inward and start counting the ceiling tiles, and then playing with my Blackberry. I actually work and send a few emails. Twenty minutes pass, the gate goes up, and the line starts moving. Twenty five minutes later, and I'm handed my paperwork to fill out.
The place is ridiculously crowded and I pace the aisles hoping that somebody will give the pregnant lady a seat. Nobody makes eye contact. A seat opens up, and a teenage boy and I both lunge for it. He plops down, but his mother comes by, whacks him and makes him get up. I journal a little about the crazy in my head, get bored, and engage in a few rigorous rounds of Brickbreaker. My number, B235, gets called.
The kid processing me is a newbie. It's his first day of work, and he's making a lot of mistakes. He also doesn't quite get the difference between my original last name and my new pretentious, hyphenated last name. We go back and forth multiple times, but I finally hand over my Social Security Card and just tell him to copy it. I should be annoyed, but he's a sweet kid. I say I didn't want a new picture because of how "fat" I was now, and he goes out of his way to tell me how cute I am and how I don't look different at all from the neck up. He takes the card and my license and puts the license in a "to be destroyed" pile.
We're almost finished and the kid says, "Um, I'm sorry, but I can't update your MA license because of your, um,....'trouble' in NJ." I ask what trouble. He tells me the 'trouble' from May 2007. I tell him that I have lived in Mass since June 2006 and ask him to double check the social security number. He calls a supervisor. She checks and tells me that I have an outstanding conviction and possibly an outstanding warrant for my arrest in NJ. What for? They can't tell. They feel bad for me because I am horrendously pregnant and sweaty, so they say they'll call, but the number for the NJ DMV has a 45 minute wait. They apologize and tell me they can't wait that long, and that if I get it resolved, they'll be more than happy to process my license change.
I don't freak out. I just ask for my license back, so that I can drive home. "Um, well, in situations like this, we're actually supposed to keep your license." And, the kid adds, "I think I'm supposed to report you to the police." Again, I do not freak out. I tell them that my due date is Tuesday and that I'm probably not a flight risk and that I have never even gotten a speeding ticket in my life, and could they please help me out because I am about to have a baby and I need some photo ID for the hospital and need to be able to drive? They agree. When they turn around to find my license in "to be destroyed pile," they realize that the licenses have been moved, presumably to the place where they are to be destroyed. The kid runs into another room, and after several moments of more ceiling-tile counting and avoiding pitying stares from strangers, he comes back. "Got it!" He hands it over, and everyone tells me to have a good day and to come back when I have my 'trouble' taken care of. I am convinced that they're only being this nice to me because I am quite literally waddling.
Scene Two: Comfort Feeding
I go into the convenience store next door, buy a king size Hershey bar and a package of Parmesan goldfish, and eat them all in the 10 minute drive back home. YG is on a conference call and gives me the thumbs up. I motion BIG thumbs down.
Scene Three: Please Wait for The Next Available Representative
I call the NJ DMV. I'm on hold for 42 minutes. There is muzak interrupted every few minutes by a voice recording telling me that they are very sorry for the wait and I will be handled by the next available representative. This bothers me more than actually holding. Many loud sighs follow.
I get through to a woman that tells me that yes, I have a warrant out for my arrest in NJ because I never told my insurance company that I moved out of state (I just let the policy lapse when I got a new one up here) and I never turned in my old plates. She says that they sent me notifications 5 times, but they were returned to sender. I asked where they sent them. To my old NJ address, of course. She then tells me that I'll have to talk to the uninsured motorists division, but that I'll probably have to pay a fine of several hundred dollars to rectify this. She, is, to put it mildly, unfriendly. I am reminded that I sometimes DON'T miss home.
I wait on hold again for 25 minutes to talk to the uninsured motorists division. I have a conference call for work that I need to be on and try to figure out a way to explain what I'm doing instead. I send a short email. I wonder if my coworkers think that I am either prone to general unluckiness or just a big exaggerator. I put this latest story in the context of other ridiculous events that have kept me from work and think it's the latter. There was: The Time I Locked Myself Out of The House With Everything Inside, The Time I Had An Allergic Reaction to My Own Skin And Had to Spend A Week Slathered In A Vaseline-like Substance, The Time I Sprained My Chest Wall and Couldn't Get Out of Bed, and so on. I wonder how I still have a job.
I finally get through to a woman named Lisa Ann who is gruff, but tells me exactly what I need to do. I miss home. Basically, I have to fax in proof that I registered the car elsewhere prior to May 2007, along with current license and registration, to waive the fine and remove the warrant. I am a pack rack, so my registration from December 2006 is quickly located in the black hole of junk otherwise known as my glove compartment. I have 40 minutes before my rescheduled conference call to get up to the business center at Staples to print out my intention to destroy my NJ plates, make copies of the registration and fax it all to Lisa Ann.
Scene Four: Which of Dante's Layers Is This?
I waddle as quickly as I can, and am confronted by a line much like the DMV. It must be Senior Citizens' Day at Staples, because a number of Biblical-era aged folks are milling around waiting to make copies and scanning old photographs. Nobody knows how to use any of the "self-service" machines. My zen from earlier is starting to wane, and I roll my eyes and sigh. A lot. I feel bad, but can't help myself. I finally get access to a copier. Out of paper. I wait again. I wait for the one employee to print out the letter saved on my USB stick, but he has to help a man printing out fliers, and all shades of yellow paper are not sufficiently yellow enough. Finally, I am ready to fax. Another line. Busy signals. General annoyance.
Finally, it is over. I have five minutes to get home and get on the phone. I race out of there, and am turning the key in the ignition when I realize that I left my current license and registration on the copy machine. More waddling, and then finally I am home, and on the phone, trying to explain my lawless state.
Scene Five: Redemption
Lisa Ann calls an hour later to tell me that I am cleared and that everything will be dropped from my record. I thank her profusely. I sit and think of all the times that I could have been carted off to jail in the past two years -- all the times that I ran the red light on Fairchild, all the times I sped on the Parkway, all the times I parked illegally, all the times I forgot my EZPass and went through the lane anyway. I wonder how I managed to stay so hidden. I am a relatively easy person to find.
I finally get around to laughing about it. Then I remember that I still need to go back to the RMV.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Fuck California
Yep, the sanctity of my holy union was definitely at risk while all those crazy mo's were out there getting married. YG and I were totally terrorized.
Feministing lead me to this link. While I'm angry, I did like the response from a local Gay and Lesbian Community Center:
I totally want to buy Zygote one of these, take a picture of your average boring white family and send it out to all the bigoted motherfuckers out there.
Feministing lead me to this link. While I'm angry, I did like the response from a local Gay and Lesbian Community Center:
"Today, our Supreme Court sent a mixed and troubling message. While upholding the legal marriages of the 18,000 same-sex couples who married in California, the ruling establishes that all Californians are NOT entitled to equal protection of the law. This is a sad day for our state and a setback for the cause of freedom and fairness.
But it's also important to keep this in perspective. Every noble struggle known to man or woman has been filled with losses--temporary defeats that people had to endure and overcome. We must pick ourselves up and move forward, knowing that justice ultimately will prevail and the right to marry will one day be ours forever.
Fortunately, this loss comes amidst a veritable tide of progress in many other state supreme courts and legislatures--a tide that cannot be turned back, no matter today's decision. Not only are courts and legislatures recognizing that it's wrong to discriminate against any group of people by denying them the fundamental freedom to marry the one they love, but now even a majority of Americans agree. Most people in the nation now believe that same-sex couples should be treated equally under the law.
That is enormous progress and we e cannot let one election, one court case, one defeat - or even many defeats - stop us. And we must not let such challenges limit our dreams. Those who came before us and who could never imagine our successes did not give up. We owe the same dedication to those who are yet to follow.
Most importantly, we cannot afford to lose sight of the bigger picture. Ours is not a fight simply for the freedom to marry. Ours is a fight for full equality; full equality and nothing less."
I totally want to buy Zygote one of these, take a picture of your average boring white family and send it out to all the bigoted motherfuckers out there.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day Recap
Or the official start to my fourth summer in Massachusetts. :-)
Friday
I took the day off -- always a good idea. Around 9 a.m., I hauled myself into Boston in the 90-degree heat for a very special appointment (i.e. leg wax) . Why didn't I take the car? No idea. My commitment to sustainability? Probably not. I just didn't think of it. Note to others: the T sucks ass when you are pregnant and it's that hot out. The T sucks ass even more when you have to ASK people to give you a seat. By the time I arrived, I was sweaty and late and had to change my underwear. Hot. The appointment was uneventful, and I now have fresh, smooth legs which make me happy.
I took the train back (again, why?) and treated myself to some massive chicken tacos from Chipotle and spent the next hour and a half of my day off, sitting on my ass on the couch eating "mexican" and watching What Not to Wear reruns. It was awesome. Really. Then I picked MG up at school and brought her to a doctor's appointment before coming home to a deliciously yummy meal out on the porch, prepared by YG. After dinner, we walked up to JP Licks for ice cream and people watching and the Square was packed and bustling, and summer is officially here.
Saturday
Adventures in Personal Grooming continued on Saturday. I have no idea when this kid is coming, but I'm relatively positive that I won't have time to wipe my ass, never mind get a pedi in the upcoming weeks, so I had my hair cut and colored and then got a pedicure. I decided to walk the 2 miles home from Harvard and two women told me that I looked lovely, and another shouted from across Mass Ave, "I hope that baby has your beautiful hair." I will miss this part of pregnancy -- the random strangers complimenting you on how pretty you are. I think that should be an everyday occurrance.
When YG returned from bringing MG back to her mother's house, we finished off the nursery, putting up the wallpaper border. The ceiling is too high for me to reach, and he's still dizzy a lot of the time, so it was relatively harrowing, but we made it through without bickering -- a feat of greatness, considering I grew up in a house where bickering over shared chores is the norm, with physical violence and full-on shouting matches reserved for larger chores.
We took the T back into the North End for dinner, and ate at Taranta. I had read the reviews in Zagat and on Open Table and they didn't disappoint. We both loaded up on pasta (a lobster and crabmeat ravioli for me, and a sausage and onion dish for him) and chatted with a nice, young couple sitting next to us who were out on a date night away from their two kids at home.
I was hoping to avoid the insomnia again, but that didn't work. I was in my usual spot on the couch from 2-4 a.m., watching a documentary on the early days of AIDS.
Sunday
On Sunday, I woke up late and noticed that I hadn't felt Zygote move in a while. I know that this is fairly normal at this point in pregnancy, but as the doctors instruct you, I drank two big glasses of water and sat on the couch for a while with my hands on my stomach. Nothing. I then tried jiggling the belly around a little bit, poking and prodding spots where I normally feel kicks. Still nothing. I decided I was being paranoid, so we took showers and took the 77 down to Harvard, fully intending to go to church as usual. YG suggested I call the doctor just to be sure.
We were sitting on a bench on Cambridge Common, right outside the church, when the doctor on call called back, asked me a bunch of questions, and then suggested that I come in to the hospital. I hung up the phone and immediately burst into tears. Sobbing tears. Out of nowhere. All throughout this pregnancy, I have definitely felt a bond with Zygote (it's hard not to when you have something growing inside of you), but I've felt removed and disconnected from friends who have talked about loving their in utero babies so much. Love just seemed like an odd choice of words, and then I course, obsess over being a bad mother already. I just think it's hard to love something in the abstract, and I've looked forward to meeting the actual person so that I can love him or her for real. But when the doctor said to come in, my brain went hospital/problem/baby/terror and I went from 0-60 without even being able to process it. YG was great, though. He told me that the crying would not help speed things along, and we hailed a cab and set off for Mount Auburn.
At the hospital, I had to sit through some annoying paperwork and registration, but once I got up to Labor & Delivery, I was put on the monitor and given lots of juice and water to drink. Zygote was in there, just napping, and "looked beautiful," according to the nurse. We had an ultrasound and saw the flexing of tiny hands and the slight movement of tiny feet. Of course, my kid would wait until we were actually in the hospital to start wiggling around, but the staff assured me that we had done the right thing by calling and coming in. Still, I felt silly. I am supposed to be perfect, after all. An hour later, we were discharged and walked back to Harvard Square where I ate away my idiocy in the beer garden at Charlie's. I know it's a Cambridge institution, but we never ate there before, and hell yeah, those are the best burgers in Cambridge. YG had something called a veggie reuben and that was delicious as well.
Back at home, we had some sexy adult time (i.e. napping on the couch while watching bad t.v.) and later went to the park for some exercise, before meeting some friends for dinner down the street. We finally got around to watching Milk, and I cried. Even though you know how it's going to end, it's still heartbreaking. The old footage of the cops rounding up gays gets me every time. And then I slept. Through the night. Horray.
Monday
Woke up late and enjoyed a nutritious breakfast of Cosmic Cocos, Whole Foods' organic version of cocoa puffs. Then we went back to sleep for another hour -- indulgent. Afterwards, we spent two hours planting. I've never really been into gardening, but YG loves it so we picked up a bunch of plants and arranged a border in the garden outside our kitchen, and planted a few other large buckets. It ended up being a lot of fun, and it looks beautiful. I'm hoping to manage it over the summer, and spend some time out there with Z.
We ate lunch (latkes and gazpacho, a match that should go together more often) on the porch, admiring our handy work. Then we drove over to Danehay Park so that I could take a walk, and YG could test his balance on his bike. He did well and was happy, and we sat on the benches and ate peaches while people watching.
And now, we're (by we, I mean YG) prepping for another meal outside and if the weather holds up, another walk up to JP's for ice cream. It may not seem like much. It's probably a boring weekend for many, but I don't know how much more adult time we have left and I have thoroughly enjoyed doing a lot of nothing lounging around in my bathrobe.
Friday
I took the day off -- always a good idea. Around 9 a.m., I hauled myself into Boston in the 90-degree heat for a very special appointment (i.e. leg wax) . Why didn't I take the car? No idea. My commitment to sustainability? Probably not. I just didn't think of it. Note to others: the T sucks ass when you are pregnant and it's that hot out. The T sucks ass even more when you have to ASK people to give you a seat. By the time I arrived, I was sweaty and late and had to change my underwear. Hot. The appointment was uneventful, and I now have fresh, smooth legs which make me happy.
I took the train back (again, why?) and treated myself to some massive chicken tacos from Chipotle and spent the next hour and a half of my day off, sitting on my ass on the couch eating "mexican" and watching What Not to Wear reruns. It was awesome. Really. Then I picked MG up at school and brought her to a doctor's appointment before coming home to a deliciously yummy meal out on the porch, prepared by YG. After dinner, we walked up to JP Licks for ice cream and people watching and the Square was packed and bustling, and summer is officially here.
Saturday
Adventures in Personal Grooming continued on Saturday. I have no idea when this kid is coming, but I'm relatively positive that I won't have time to wipe my ass, never mind get a pedi in the upcoming weeks, so I had my hair cut and colored and then got a pedicure. I decided to walk the 2 miles home from Harvard and two women told me that I looked lovely, and another shouted from across Mass Ave, "I hope that baby has your beautiful hair." I will miss this part of pregnancy -- the random strangers complimenting you on how pretty you are. I think that should be an everyday occurrance.
When YG returned from bringing MG back to her mother's house, we finished off the nursery, putting up the wallpaper border. The ceiling is too high for me to reach, and he's still dizzy a lot of the time, so it was relatively harrowing, but we made it through without bickering -- a feat of greatness, considering I grew up in a house where bickering over shared chores is the norm, with physical violence and full-on shouting matches reserved for larger chores.
We took the T back into the North End for dinner, and ate at Taranta. I had read the reviews in Zagat and on Open Table and they didn't disappoint. We both loaded up on pasta (a lobster and crabmeat ravioli for me, and a sausage and onion dish for him) and chatted with a nice, young couple sitting next to us who were out on a date night away from their two kids at home.
I was hoping to avoid the insomnia again, but that didn't work. I was in my usual spot on the couch from 2-4 a.m., watching a documentary on the early days of AIDS.
Sunday
On Sunday, I woke up late and noticed that I hadn't felt Zygote move in a while. I know that this is fairly normal at this point in pregnancy, but as the doctors instruct you, I drank two big glasses of water and sat on the couch for a while with my hands on my stomach. Nothing. I then tried jiggling the belly around a little bit, poking and prodding spots where I normally feel kicks. Still nothing. I decided I was being paranoid, so we took showers and took the 77 down to Harvard, fully intending to go to church as usual. YG suggested I call the doctor just to be sure.
We were sitting on a bench on Cambridge Common, right outside the church, when the doctor on call called back, asked me a bunch of questions, and then suggested that I come in to the hospital. I hung up the phone and immediately burst into tears. Sobbing tears. Out of nowhere. All throughout this pregnancy, I have definitely felt a bond with Zygote (it's hard not to when you have something growing inside of you), but I've felt removed and disconnected from friends who have talked about loving their in utero babies so much. Love just seemed like an odd choice of words, and then I course, obsess over being a bad mother already. I just think it's hard to love something in the abstract, and I've looked forward to meeting the actual person so that I can love him or her for real. But when the doctor said to come in, my brain went hospital/problem/baby/terror and I went from 0-60 without even being able to process it. YG was great, though. He told me that the crying would not help speed things along, and we hailed a cab and set off for Mount Auburn.
At the hospital, I had to sit through some annoying paperwork and registration, but once I got up to Labor & Delivery, I was put on the monitor and given lots of juice and water to drink. Zygote was in there, just napping, and "looked beautiful," according to the nurse. We had an ultrasound and saw the flexing of tiny hands and the slight movement of tiny feet. Of course, my kid would wait until we were actually in the hospital to start wiggling around, but the staff assured me that we had done the right thing by calling and coming in. Still, I felt silly. I am supposed to be perfect, after all. An hour later, we were discharged and walked back to Harvard Square where I ate away my idiocy in the beer garden at Charlie's. I know it's a Cambridge institution, but we never ate there before, and hell yeah, those are the best burgers in Cambridge. YG had something called a veggie reuben and that was delicious as well.
Back at home, we had some sexy adult time (i.e. napping on the couch while watching bad t.v.) and later went to the park for some exercise, before meeting some friends for dinner down the street. We finally got around to watching Milk, and I cried. Even though you know how it's going to end, it's still heartbreaking. The old footage of the cops rounding up gays gets me every time. And then I slept. Through the night. Horray.
Monday
Woke up late and enjoyed a nutritious breakfast of Cosmic Cocos, Whole Foods' organic version of cocoa puffs. Then we went back to sleep for another hour -- indulgent. Afterwards, we spent two hours planting. I've never really been into gardening, but YG loves it so we picked up a bunch of plants and arranged a border in the garden outside our kitchen, and planted a few other large buckets. It ended up being a lot of fun, and it looks beautiful. I'm hoping to manage it over the summer, and spend some time out there with Z.
We ate lunch (latkes and gazpacho, a match that should go together more often) on the porch, admiring our handy work. Then we drove over to Danehay Park so that I could take a walk, and YG could test his balance on his bike. He did well and was happy, and we sat on the benches and ate peaches while people watching.
And now, we're (by we, I mean YG) prepping for another meal outside and if the weather holds up, another walk up to JP's for ice cream. It may not seem like much. It's probably a boring weekend for many, but I don't know how much more adult time we have left and I have thoroughly enjoyed doing a lot of nothing lounging around in my bathrobe.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Stream of Conscious Musings About How Uncomfortable I Am
It's hot. Very HOT. About 95 degrees yesterday and 90 today. My feet have swollen to unthinkable proportions where even flip flops are causing me to blister and chafe. I'm changing my underwear and bras three times a day because I am sweating so much. I am drinking gallons of water, but still out of breath. All the while, Zygote jumps up and down and wiggles and seems generally unaware that the world is on fucking fire. Maybe it's cool in there.
The Green Line almost killed me today. I had an appointment in Boston, and the walk to the T was brutal. At Park Street, people on their morning commutes jostled about and kept stepping on my feet. I started pushing back. The train was late, and I had to ask someone for a seat -- some fuckface in a suit that acted all put upon. No energy to muster up a "screw you." It moved at a snail's pace and I just felt like I was melting. For a second I wondered if my water broke, but no, just sweat. Ick. Ride back not much better.
Other random thoughts:
* I am too tired to want to do anything.
* I met my second celebrity in Cambridge yesterday. Jennifer Garner at The Gap in Harvard Square. She was very nice and bought her daughter a cute bathing suit.
* I have been keeping this blog for three years now. Three years in Massachusetts. Three years in my new city. Three years in my new job. Lots of changes in few years.
* I cannot formulate complete sentences.
* I cannot believe someone is going to let me take a baby home. I don't know what to do with babies.
* I would like to get some uninterrupted sleep.
* In my interupted sleep, I have been watching "My So Called Life" and remembering high school. I do not know if this is a good or bad thing.
* Nap time. Vacation days are apparently for napping now.
The Green Line almost killed me today. I had an appointment in Boston, and the walk to the T was brutal. At Park Street, people on their morning commutes jostled about and kept stepping on my feet. I started pushing back. The train was late, and I had to ask someone for a seat -- some fuckface in a suit that acted all put upon. No energy to muster up a "screw you." It moved at a snail's pace and I just felt like I was melting. For a second I wondered if my water broke, but no, just sweat. Ick. Ride back not much better.
Other random thoughts:
* I am too tired to want to do anything.
* I met my second celebrity in Cambridge yesterday. Jennifer Garner at The Gap in Harvard Square. She was very nice and bought her daughter a cute bathing suit.
* I have been keeping this blog for three years now. Three years in Massachusetts. Three years in my new city. Three years in my new job. Lots of changes in few years.
* I cannot formulate complete sentences.
* I cannot believe someone is going to let me take a baby home. I don't know what to do with babies.
* I would like to get some uninterrupted sleep.
* In my interupted sleep, I have been watching "My So Called Life" and remembering high school. I do not know if this is a good or bad thing.
* Nap time. Vacation days are apparently for napping now.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Updates and Projects
This insomnia thing really sucks the bag, man. If I'm not waking up for hours at a time in the middle of the night, I am wide awake at 5:30 a.m. every morning, raring to go. It's so weird. I would have loved this last week or the week before when I was struggling to get to the office on time, but now that I only need to roll over in my pajamas to get to work, it's sort of wasted.
A few updates:
1. No improvement in YG's hearing.
2. At 38 weeks, I am full term, but as of yesterday, the baby isn't going anywhere. I still have "some time."
My nesting projects or things I want to get done before Z comes:
1. Finish Zygote's room. Basically this entails covering the icky wallpaper border with new, kid-friendly border. Should be an easy project, but we are dealing with the dizzy guy and Jabba the Hut, so we'll see how that works out.
2. Renew my passport application. I have all the paperwork, but I need to get a different picture. The one I have screams, "I am 9 months pregnant. I have 3 chins and I wasn't particularly nice to the CVS lady that took this." I don't feel like staring at that for the next ten years.
3. 14 months after getting married, finally finish getting all my name-change paperwork done. I still need a new license.
4. Finish uploading our CDs to the new Mac. Remember this time that if you are going to do something like upload 10,000 songs that backing it up is probably a good idea.
5. Finish developing my matrix of publications to send my stuff to. I've been sending stories to the same three publications with nothing going. I'm sure there is somebody out there that finds me brilliant. I just have to make the time to find them.
And finish closing out shit at work.
A few updates:
1. No improvement in YG's hearing.
2. At 38 weeks, I am full term, but as of yesterday, the baby isn't going anywhere. I still have "some time."
My nesting projects or things I want to get done before Z comes:
1. Finish Zygote's room. Basically this entails covering the icky wallpaper border with new, kid-friendly border. Should be an easy project, but we are dealing with the dizzy guy and Jabba the Hut, so we'll see how that works out.
2. Renew my passport application. I have all the paperwork, but I need to get a different picture. The one I have screams, "I am 9 months pregnant. I have 3 chins and I wasn't particularly nice to the CVS lady that took this." I don't feel like staring at that for the next ten years.
3. 14 months after getting married, finally finish getting all my name-change paperwork done. I still need a new license.
4. Finish uploading our CDs to the new Mac. Remember this time that if you are going to do something like upload 10,000 songs that backing it up is probably a good idea.
5. Finish developing my matrix of publications to send my stuff to. I've been sending stories to the same three publications with nothing going. I'm sure there is somebody out there that finds me brilliant. I just have to make the time to find them.
And finish closing out shit at work.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Get Out of Jail Free
Today was my last day in the office until I return from maternity leave. I will be working from home until Zygote is born, but my commute can now suck it. Sweatpants, t-shirts, and flip flops and helping YG recover all sound a-okay to me.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
What I'm Reading
The only benefit of frequent insomnia and hours in hospital waiting rooms is that you get to catch up on reading. Some recent reads:
1. The Best American Essays 2008: Kind of a snore. My last writing teacher suggested I read more essays since that seems to be my genre of choice, but I didn't particularly enjoy the whole collection. I found the one on end-of-life healthcare fascinating and loved the one on lesbian weddings. The fact that I can't remember many of the other ones leads me to question the "best" title.
2. Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem: LOVED it. I read Motherless Brooklyn a few years ago when everyone was Lethem crazy, and I just didn't get it. I found it boring. I approached this one thinking I'd feel the same way, but it feels so different. It's gorgeous and passionate and heartbreaking at the same time.
3. Waiting for Daisy: A Tale of Two Continents, Three Religions, Five Infertility Doctors, an Oscar, an Atomic Bomb, a Romantic Night, and One Woman's Quest to Become a Mother by Peggy Orenstein: I have devoured everything Peggy Orenstein has ever written and look forward to essays that she writes. Interestingly enough, she was researchingFlux, one of my favorite non-fiction books in recent years, while going through the infertility treatments detailed in this book. It's very personal, but also offers insight into the infertility business. Quick read too. I've had it on my shelf for years -- bought it at City Lights the first time I went to San Francisco a few years ago.
4. Opting In: Having A Child Without Losing Yourself by Amy Richards: Appropriate timing, I guess. It wasn't an academic read and covers a lot of ground, but I don't feel like I learned much new. I did enjoy the chapters on the work/stay-at-home debate and how that needs to be larger, and also liked that she covered the changing nature of female relationships after baby comes. I'm hoping to still have a life post-baby and also hoping to maintain my relationships with people who have chosen not to have kids. I know how fucking boring it is to listen to endless kid stories when you have none of your own, or even when you do -- I don't want to subject anyone to that. Again, she didn't cover too many tips, but I liked that it was a topic.
And now, I'm in the middle of Operating Instructions which is exactly as awesome as I expected it to be.
1. The Best American Essays 2008: Kind of a snore. My last writing teacher suggested I read more essays since that seems to be my genre of choice, but I didn't particularly enjoy the whole collection. I found the one on end-of-life healthcare fascinating and loved the one on lesbian weddings. The fact that I can't remember many of the other ones leads me to question the "best" title.
2. Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem: LOVED it. I read Motherless Brooklyn a few years ago when everyone was Lethem crazy, and I just didn't get it. I found it boring. I approached this one thinking I'd feel the same way, but it feels so different. It's gorgeous and passionate and heartbreaking at the same time.
3. Waiting for Daisy: A Tale of Two Continents, Three Religions, Five Infertility Doctors, an Oscar, an Atomic Bomb, a Romantic Night, and One Woman's Quest to Become a Mother by Peggy Orenstein: I have devoured everything Peggy Orenstein has ever written and look forward to essays that she writes. Interestingly enough, she was researchingFlux, one of my favorite non-fiction books in recent years, while going through the infertility treatments detailed in this book. It's very personal, but also offers insight into the infertility business. Quick read too. I've had it on my shelf for years -- bought it at City Lights the first time I went to San Francisco a few years ago.
4. Opting In: Having A Child Without Losing Yourself by Amy Richards: Appropriate timing, I guess. It wasn't an academic read and covers a lot of ground, but I don't feel like I learned much new. I did enjoy the chapters on the work/stay-at-home debate and how that needs to be larger, and also liked that she covered the changing nature of female relationships after baby comes. I'm hoping to still have a life post-baby and also hoping to maintain my relationships with people who have chosen not to have kids. I know how fucking boring it is to listen to endless kid stories when you have none of your own, or even when you do -- I don't want to subject anyone to that. Again, she didn't cover too many tips, but I liked that it was a topic.
And now, I'm in the middle of Operating Instructions which is exactly as awesome as I expected it to be.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Last Couple of Days: Serious Suck
Exhausted and reeling and over being scared, but not quite over being freaked out.
Saturday, May 9
MG’s 10th birthday. We have a great day and drop her off at her mother’s house. We decide to use a few leftover gift certificates to go out for a nice, adult dinner since we’re not sure how many of those we have left before Zygote comes. We leave the zip code. We actually leave Cambridge, which never happens. We go to Ivy and have some awesome antipasto and pork and risotto balls filled with prosciutto. YG drinks red wine, but mentions that he’s been dizzy and that his ear is ringing. We play Dr. Google once we get home and figure that he just has an ear infection.
I am having major Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off. We wonder if the baby will come early.
Sunday, May 10
Mother’s Day. We go to church and then drive out to Concord to meet YG’s family for lunch. I eat my weight in pasta and we have a nice time chatting with everyone. YG mentions the dizziness and that his ear hurts. His sister reassures him that it’s probably just an infection, leftover from a cold. His sister’s fiancé says, “or it could be like my aunt(?) who thought she had an ear infection and it turned out to be a tumor.” We all laugh.
Sunday Night
I cannot sleep. At all. Zygote has me up all night now. YG also can’t sleep. He feels like shit and is tossing and turning too. I get up around 3 and watch Superbad in its entirety.
Monday, May 11
YG wakes up and tells me that he cannot hear, at all, in his left ear. He’s freaked out. I’m freaked out. We call Harvard Vanguard Urgent Care up the street, but they won’t let him come in because his primary care physician isn’t located there. He finally gets an appointment with his doctor out in Acton. The doc couldn't figure out what was wrong, so he was shuttled around to different specialists and they found absolutely NOTHING and basically told him that there is some study going on a Mass Eye and Ear for early hearing loss, and that he should sign up as a candidate for that because they can't find anything. They tell him to either go there, or to come back tomorrow. How does someone just immediately lose their hearing?
YG calls me at work and asks if I can come home. YG NEVER asks me to come home, so I dump everything and head out. I can’t stop thinking about that comment about thinking one has an ear infection that turns out to be a tumor.
At home, we finally get through to the woman running the Mass Eye and Ear study and she says that he needs to get to the emergency room immediately and get started on treatment.
We decide to go. Initially, we were going to take the T, but YG is dizzy and throwing up and I know I won’t be able to hold him up if he faints or falls. We decide to drive. The ride over was just fab. In rush hour. With him throwing up every five minutes in a bag. I wonder for a minute if the people at Old Navy and Gap know how useful their bags are for cleaning up cat shit and catching puke. I’m guessing no.
At MGH, we wait for a while among a gaggle of people wearing face masks and with bandaged eyes. I try not to stare, but I can’t help it. When a woman comes out with a tube in a big, bloody nose, I almost gag. I end up calling the ECT to spare YG from having to deal with her. Of course, there is drama. She is panicked and freaking out, until I tell her that she needs to pick MG up from school and take her to the orthodontist because YG can’t drive and I want to stay with him. The tone changes. She hems and haws and says she’s not sure if she can do it. She’s busy. It’s an inconvenience. For her. Her ex-husband is half deaf and dizzy and puking, and his 37-weeks pregnant wife are sitting in the skeevy hospital waiting room, but I go overboard and tell her how grateful I am that she can help us out with this inconvenience. I think I am reserving my place in heaven.
We wait for about an hour and are finally seen. Apparently this hearing loss is very common.
The bottom line is that YG has been diagnosed with SSHL (Sudden Sensorineaural Healing Loss) which is apparently more common than we knew, especially in young men. Very strange with no real known causes. Studies have shown that it could be viral, but they are inconclusive. The doctors have him on a high dose of steroids (known to help restore hearing about 60% of the time within a few months). We’re told to come back the next morning.
I realize on the drive home that I’ve never driven over the Longfellow Bridge. We stop at CVS on the way home and pick up the prescription. I get a burrito at Qdoba and pick up some Gatorade for YG. We are frazzled and a bit weepy and watch Superbad again. YG pukes again.
YG goes to sleep. I toss and turn in the bed for two hours before going and reading for an hour. I’m so paranoid that I keep creeping back into the bedroom to put my hand on YG’s chest and make sure that he is still breathing. I allow myself to lose it a little. I silently beg Zygote to stay put for a while.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
We leave the house around 7:30 and head back to MGH. We take the T this time. YG pukes up a lemon-lime stream of Gatorade in the street, and a guy (somewhere in between friendly neighborhood dude and crazy) tells us to drink lime water and honey.
We make it to the hospital with no more puking and YG is a bit more steady on his feet.
YG takes a hearing test. I’m sitting in the room with him and he’s wearing head phones. The high pitched noises coming through the left ear are so loud that I can hear them and am uncomfortable, but he hears nothing. It freaks me out. The doctor tells us about the clinical study on SSHL and tells us that we’re in good shape because we did something early and that steroids are known to help.
We go back downstairs to the ER. We talk to a couple with a baby in the elevator. The baby is 9 days old. I didn’t imagine that I would be in a hospital for anything but baby stuff.
The ER doctors examine the test results and again tell us that SSHL is pretty common and they see numerous cases a WEEK. They remind us that some people get their hearing back and others don’t. They prescribe Ativan, of all things, for the dizziness. YG is going to see another specialist on Monday, and everyone wishes us well. I manage to ask the doctor, "how do you know it's not being caused by a tumor?" and he said that was highly unlikely given the symptoms YG was presenting, but that you never can be 100% certain.
We take the T back and are weepy again. We’re early for my doctor’s appointment in Davis, so we stop at the daycare center and watch all the toddlers for a little. We listen to our kicky baby at my appointment, and then head home.
YG eats his first real meal in two days and we both try to work on our laptops. We take a nap. We go out for a walk. We’re trying to be normal. We need to call our families and tell them.
What a mind fuck.
Saturday, May 9
MG’s 10th birthday. We have a great day and drop her off at her mother’s house. We decide to use a few leftover gift certificates to go out for a nice, adult dinner since we’re not sure how many of those we have left before Zygote comes. We leave the zip code. We actually leave Cambridge, which never happens. We go to Ivy and have some awesome antipasto and pork and risotto balls filled with prosciutto. YG drinks red wine, but mentions that he’s been dizzy and that his ear is ringing. We play Dr. Google once we get home and figure that he just has an ear infection.
I am having major Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off. We wonder if the baby will come early.
Sunday, May 10
Mother’s Day. We go to church and then drive out to Concord to meet YG’s family for lunch. I eat my weight in pasta and we have a nice time chatting with everyone. YG mentions the dizziness and that his ear hurts. His sister reassures him that it’s probably just an infection, leftover from a cold. His sister’s fiancé says, “or it could be like my aunt(?) who thought she had an ear infection and it turned out to be a tumor.” We all laugh.
Sunday Night
I cannot sleep. At all. Zygote has me up all night now. YG also can’t sleep. He feels like shit and is tossing and turning too. I get up around 3 and watch Superbad in its entirety.
Monday, May 11
YG wakes up and tells me that he cannot hear, at all, in his left ear. He’s freaked out. I’m freaked out. We call Harvard Vanguard Urgent Care up the street, but they won’t let him come in because his primary care physician isn’t located there. He finally gets an appointment with his doctor out in Acton. The doc couldn't figure out what was wrong, so he was shuttled around to different specialists and they found absolutely NOTHING and basically told him that there is some study going on a Mass Eye and Ear for early hearing loss, and that he should sign up as a candidate for that because they can't find anything. They tell him to either go there, or to come back tomorrow. How does someone just immediately lose their hearing?
YG calls me at work and asks if I can come home. YG NEVER asks me to come home, so I dump everything and head out. I can’t stop thinking about that comment about thinking one has an ear infection that turns out to be a tumor.
At home, we finally get through to the woman running the Mass Eye and Ear study and she says that he needs to get to the emergency room immediately and get started on treatment.
We decide to go. Initially, we were going to take the T, but YG is dizzy and throwing up and I know I won’t be able to hold him up if he faints or falls. We decide to drive. The ride over was just fab. In rush hour. With him throwing up every five minutes in a bag. I wonder for a minute if the people at Old Navy and Gap know how useful their bags are for cleaning up cat shit and catching puke. I’m guessing no.
At MGH, we wait for a while among a gaggle of people wearing face masks and with bandaged eyes. I try not to stare, but I can’t help it. When a woman comes out with a tube in a big, bloody nose, I almost gag. I end up calling the ECT to spare YG from having to deal with her. Of course, there is drama. She is panicked and freaking out, until I tell her that she needs to pick MG up from school and take her to the orthodontist because YG can’t drive and I want to stay with him. The tone changes. She hems and haws and says she’s not sure if she can do it. She’s busy. It’s an inconvenience. For her. Her ex-husband is half deaf and dizzy and puking, and his 37-weeks pregnant wife are sitting in the skeevy hospital waiting room, but I go overboard and tell her how grateful I am that she can help us out with this inconvenience. I think I am reserving my place in heaven.
We wait for about an hour and are finally seen. Apparently this hearing loss is very common.
The bottom line is that YG has been diagnosed with SSHL (Sudden Sensorineaural Healing Loss) which is apparently more common than we knew, especially in young men. Very strange with no real known causes. Studies have shown that it could be viral, but they are inconclusive. The doctors have him on a high dose of steroids (known to help restore hearing about 60% of the time within a few months). We’re told to come back the next morning.
I realize on the drive home that I’ve never driven over the Longfellow Bridge. We stop at CVS on the way home and pick up the prescription. I get a burrito at Qdoba and pick up some Gatorade for YG. We are frazzled and a bit weepy and watch Superbad again. YG pukes again.
YG goes to sleep. I toss and turn in the bed for two hours before going and reading for an hour. I’m so paranoid that I keep creeping back into the bedroom to put my hand on YG’s chest and make sure that he is still breathing. I allow myself to lose it a little. I silently beg Zygote to stay put for a while.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
We leave the house around 7:30 and head back to MGH. We take the T this time. YG pukes up a lemon-lime stream of Gatorade in the street, and a guy (somewhere in between friendly neighborhood dude and crazy) tells us to drink lime water and honey.
We make it to the hospital with no more puking and YG is a bit more steady on his feet.
YG takes a hearing test. I’m sitting in the room with him and he’s wearing head phones. The high pitched noises coming through the left ear are so loud that I can hear them and am uncomfortable, but he hears nothing. It freaks me out. The doctor tells us about the clinical study on SSHL and tells us that we’re in good shape because we did something early and that steroids are known to help.
We go back downstairs to the ER. We talk to a couple with a baby in the elevator. The baby is 9 days old. I didn’t imagine that I would be in a hospital for anything but baby stuff.
The ER doctors examine the test results and again tell us that SSHL is pretty common and they see numerous cases a WEEK. They remind us that some people get their hearing back and others don’t. They prescribe Ativan, of all things, for the dizziness. YG is going to see another specialist on Monday, and everyone wishes us well. I manage to ask the doctor, "how do you know it's not being caused by a tumor?" and he said that was highly unlikely given the symptoms YG was presenting, but that you never can be 100% certain.
We take the T back and are weepy again. We’re early for my doctor’s appointment in Davis, so we stop at the daycare center and watch all the toddlers for a little. We listen to our kicky baby at my appointment, and then head home.
YG eats his first real meal in two days and we both try to work on our laptops. We take a nap. We go out for a walk. We’re trying to be normal. We need to call our families and tell them.
What a mind fuck.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
TEN
Today is the MG's tenth birthday. Ten! I can hardly believe it. When I first met her, she was six and we were in the lobby of a hotel in New York City. YG had taken her there as a present for her impending seventh birthday. She immediately grabbed my hand and asked me to take her to the bathroom. We then went and played on the swings in Central Park and had scones at Alice's Teacup. Two months later, I moved to Massachusetts.
The following year, we went to Cancun. And last year, we celebrated at the bowling alley with her mom, her mom's boyfriend and some friends after YG and I got back from France on our honeymoon. This year, we decided not to do a party. We're taking her on a day trip next weekend, and last night we celebrated with some cupcakes from Kick Ass and steak at Frank's. Today, we went bowling again, this time in Cambridge, because I am too sweaty and unwieldy to really go anyplace else.
She's a great kid. Considering the massive upheaval in her life over the last couple of years, it's amazing she's so well-adjusted. I remember nine and ten. They were the beginning of the suck -- of mean girls and insecurity and raging hormones -- and I remember what an asshole I was to everyone around me. So far, she isn't like that. My birthday wish for her is that she escapes the next decade with as little bruising and scraping as possible, and that she stays happy.
The following year, we went to Cancun. And last year, we celebrated at the bowling alley with her mom, her mom's boyfriend and some friends after YG and I got back from France on our honeymoon. This year, we decided not to do a party. We're taking her on a day trip next weekend, and last night we celebrated with some cupcakes from Kick Ass and steak at Frank's. Today, we went bowling again, this time in Cambridge, because I am too sweaty and unwieldy to really go anyplace else.
She's a great kid. Considering the massive upheaval in her life over the last couple of years, it's amazing she's so well-adjusted. I remember nine and ten. They were the beginning of the suck -- of mean girls and insecurity and raging hormones -- and I remember what an asshole I was to everyone around me. So far, she isn't like that. My birthday wish for her is that she escapes the next decade with as little bruising and scraping as possible, and that she stays happy.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Maternity Leave and Things I Want To Do
Approved!
I didn't get everything I wanted, but I did negotiate an extra 4 weeks leave unpaid and I am going back at a reduced work week of 32 hours. I'm happy with it, and looking forward to filling that extra day with Zygote and my writing.
In other news, I am sitting on my big, pregnant Orca-like ass, watching the Biggest Loser. These people just ran a marathon. I watch the runners outside every day, remembering last April and my first longer race, and I can't wait to get back out there. Can.not.wait.
I didn't get everything I wanted, but I did negotiate an extra 4 weeks leave unpaid and I am going back at a reduced work week of 32 hours. I'm happy with it, and looking forward to filling that extra day with Zygote and my writing.
In other news, I am sitting on my big, pregnant Orca-like ass, watching the Biggest Loser. These people just ran a marathon. I watch the runners outside every day, remembering last April and my first longer race, and I can't wait to get back out there. Can.not.wait.
In Today's "Are You Fucking Kidding Me?" News
Seriously?
I work in PR so nothing should ever surprise me, but the marketing of America and the marketing of women in particular never ceases to amaze.
I work in PR so nothing should ever surprise me, but the marketing of America and the marketing of women in particular never ceases to amaze.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Baked!
I think he or she is just putting on weight from here.
Nice weekend with a visit from my parents, a dinner at Rialto and an early birthday party for the MG.
Nice weekend with a visit from my parents, a dinner at Rialto and an early birthday party for the MG.
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