BrooklynGirl

Night Terrors

Despite the kick ass air conditioner in the bedroom, I'm not sleeping well.  There is a comfort issue, but more than that, I tend to wake up at 3:34 am with my mind racing.  Generally I'm obsessing about one of the following issues:

• Stillbirth
• Congenital kidney abnormalities (because of the SUA)
• Vaginal delivery
• C-section
• Having my water break in a public place, like say, the subway
• Going into labor spontaneously
• Not going into labor spontaneously
• The soap scum that will not come off the shower doors
• Figuring out when my family will come visit
• Being a terrible mother
• Going back to work
• Danae
• Not going out to drink too many margaritas and coming home to have loud, sloppy sex for a long, long time
• The Yankees' pitching rotation
• Breastfeeding
• The fickle wireless router
• $$$$$
• Karl Rove
• Answering the question "Where do babies come from?"
• The weather--is this global warming or what?
• Grocery shopping in NYC with an infant
• College tuition
• Adama, Starbuck, and the Arrow of Apollo
• (That including the preceding items makes me the biggest nerd of all time)
• Gefilte
• John G. Roberts

And you?

Okay, Maybe It Is The Heat....

It's apparently much less humid today--you can't actually see the air--but I'll tell ya, I don't actually feel that much better.  It serves me right to try and get all meteorological on the weather's ass....

*****

I survived my first internal exam today: my cervix is soft but not dilated or effaced.  The baby is head down, but in occiput posterior position, which means that the kid's back is facing my back instead of the other way around.  There's lots of time for that to change, and my OB gave me some stretches to do to facilitate that.

[If you've got some time on your hands, try Googling "occiput posterior" + "back labor" (my favorite: "Nothing can prepare a mother for the severe unremitting pain that accompanies labor when the baby is in a posterior position").  And let's not even discuss "occiput posterior" + "sphincter laceration."  I'm not seriously worried about this yet--just making conversation. ]

I asked the OB to explain Braxton-Hicks contractions for me because I didn't think I'd been having any, and she sort of laughed and said I'd had some BH contractions during her exam.  She could feel them.  Huh.  So, she explained what I should be feeling, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.

35 weeks tomorrow.

It's Not the Heat....

My God, can we talk about the humidity?  In the greater NYC area, it's like there's no air--or if there is air, it's so thick you need to grate it into tiny bits before you try to breathe it. 

Yet somehow, the weather guys don't quite get this.  They report the weather as "84 degrees and humid," which almost sounds reasonable.  They should say "It's 84 degrees out, but unbelievably humid and if you're out in it for any length of time, you need to reexamine your priorities."   I'm just saying.

All hail the inventor of air conditioning.

Medically Speaking

I go to the doctor a lot: once a week for NSTs, plus occasional visits to the OB (after the next appointment, these too will be weekly), the hematologist, the ultrasound techs, etc.  Though the hospital where most of these appointments occur is rather inconvenient, the fact is that I'm happy to go--even if the appointment yields less than exciting news (like the SUA they somehow neglected to mention earlier, say).  I feel calm at the hospital.  I feel safe.

I'm not sure exactly why I have this confidence in the hospital--I just know that I do.  It's not that the staff has been 100% foolproof because of course they haven't.  There was the progesterone problem they never really understood, the subchorionic hemorrhage the RE didn't see, the 20-week ultrasound that took 3 visits to complete, and of course that whole "unexplained" infertility thing.  Mistakes happen.  Doctors aren't infallible.  I know this. 

And I do do my fair share of second guessing.  As a graduate of Google Upstairs Medical College, I spend a lot of time doing research...and jumping to (often unnecessarily) scary conclusions.  Yet, overall, I trust my doctors and hospital.  I do what they tell me.  I might ask them to explain why, but generally speaking, I follow orders.

But lately, I've encountered a lot of women who don't follow orders--and who seem to think that those who do are merely pawns in the medical system.  For example, these women question why everyone admitted to labor and delivery at my hospital gets an IV and can only eat ice chips and clear liquids.  "There's no way I'm getting an IV," they muttered under their breath at the hospital tour, as they plotted with their husbands about how to sneak in food to eat during labor.

And I have to say, I don't get it.  I mean, I understand that some people don't want to follow these rules.  There's lots of evidence that women should eat during labor to maintain their energy levels, but this hospital doesn't subscribe to that particular theory and is more worried about the potential threat of aspiration should general anesthesia be necessary.  So no food it is.  Since I am more concerned about aspirating during emergency surgery than being hungry during labor, this rule works for me.

But if you really don't like the rules, then why not pick a different medical option--another hospital, a birthing center, a home birth?  Going to a high-intervention hospital and expecting low-intervention treatment seems a little like going to a French restaurant and ordering Eggplant Parmigiana.  Or am I missing something?

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaack!

...and on a sporty new laptop to boot.  Ain't life grand?

I had been a little concerned about how my last post would be received.  I was worried that I was maybe minimizing someone else's feelings, which was not, of course, my intention.  Thanks for getting what I was trying to say. 

Also, about 24 hours after posting, I proved myself to be a hypocrite by having one of those doctor's appointments--or series of appointments--in which I experienced all the things Karen had talked about: I had the reassuring NST with plenty of unprompted heart rate accelerations; I had the ultrasound where the kid did some unbearably cute waving and kicking that I could actually see; and it was all accompanied by lots of fetal movement, as though the kid had read my post and knew that more reassurance was required.   

This being me, of course, I couldn't bask in the glow of all this miraculousness without having at least one thing to freak out about, and this is it: apparently I have a two-vessel umbilical cord, also known as a single umbilical artery.  They have known this for some time, but did not feel it was "clinically significant" so no one bothered to mention it.  They feel the biggest risk is IUGR, but since the estimated fetal weight was 4 lbs., 12 oz. at 33 weeks, they are not concerned at the moment.

Until I got back online, I wasn't particularly concerned either, but now that I've Googled the shit out of this particular anomaly, I have to admit that I'm perturbed.  I'm not going to post the links to the scary stuff here, but suffice it say there is scary stuff--and though none of that scary stuff has been suggested by any of the ultrasounds to date, that doesn't mean it's not there.   Once again, it's always something....

Very Superstitious

We spent the holiday weekend painting.  Or more specifically, my husband painted while I "supervised"--on account of the fumes, of course, not the unrelenting laziness.  We are still somewhat unresolved about what to call the room that was painted.  Sometimes it is the "small bedroom;" sometimes it is the "other bedroom;" and sometimes it is just "the room." 

I thought I might have grown out of the superstition by now, but no, it's still there.  It's different now, and less understandable to others, I think.  This weekend we had dinner with some friends who were chattering away about whether we had picked names (no), thought about child care (not really), decided when my parents would come visit (no), or bought a lot of baby clothes (not a single outfit).  None of this crew has kids, but it seemed clear that we were fast becoming a model for completely unprepared parenthood. 

I wanted to explain that there were some things I was constitutionally unprepared to do until the kid was actually here.  There is a part of me that doesn't believe this can really happen. 

Karen posted recently (eloquently as always) about her feelings towards pregnant women, and I have to say that I was jealous of the pregnant women she described too:   

I am jealous that these women get to carry their child with them wherever they go. When they doubt that she exists, they can touch their growing bellies. When they need reassurance, they can hear a heartbeat. When they want a picture, they can have their doctor print one out. There, there is the baby, nestled safely, with them. They have living proof.

Yes, I do have the moments of reassurance when I feel a kick or a squirm, and I breathe a sigh of relief, but I also have the moments of sheer terror when I wonder when I felt the last kick or squirm.  Was it an hour ago?  Two hours ago?  Last night?   

And yes, I do hear the heartbeat at the weekly NSTs, but just last week there was the new doctor who couldn't find the heartbeat and insisted on making small talk with me as she moved the receiver across my belly and shaved several years off my life trying to find it.

Finally, yes, there are ultrasound pictures, but the experience of obtaining them was, I have to say, traumatic.   

Maybe I'm ungrateful not to find solace in these things.  Maybe I'm paranoid.  Maybe I'm plain crazy.  These are all possibilities.   But I think we're all "playing mom" until we hold a child in our arms.  And maybe even then.  Maybe especially then.

P.S.  The new computer's not here yet.  Praise be for air conditioned Internet cafes.

Oh Happy Day

Thanks to everyone who has provided advice about baby stuff.  Keep those cards and letters coming by posting here.   I will compile the comments and put a more accessible link somewhere on the blog ASAP.

**********

The rumors started at around 11:00 am yesterday.  I was in the English department office calculating final grades when one of the teachers came in and reported, "The kids say it's cold outside."

We all laughed, locked in the windowless dungeon as we were, feverishly punching calculator keys or (for the nerdier, such as myself) adjusting Excel formulas.  I didn't actually get outside--or to a classroom with a window--until 3:15, and the kids were right!  It was cool (if not actually cold).  The heat wave is over!

My student teaching experience is also over.  My grades have been turned in.  All the kids passed, and all my seniors will graduate--even the one who wrote her final paper about how Adrienne Rich's poem "Planetarium" is a celebration of the first female astronaut's trip to the moon (except for that rather significant error,  it was a pretty insightful paper). 

So, now I have no excuse not to focus on The Project.  There are cribs to be examined.  Paint colors to be chosen.  Furniture to be rearranged.  For some people, I know this is the fun part.  For me, though, it reminds me of planning my wedding, where I was forced to realize that I'm just not that kind of girl.  I didn't have fantasies about dresses or place settings or bouquets so when I set about choosing those things, I spent a lot of time wondering if I was doing it right: Are ivory tablecloths tacky if my dress is white?  Can hydrangeas be part of a fall bouquet?  How is the bustle supposed to work?

I feel the same about baby stuff.  I'm not going to see a crib and swoon that that's the crib I've always dreamed of--I don't think that's the infertility taking; it's just me.  So mostly I'm just worried about picking the wrong thing: "Oh, my God, I can't believe you got the crib with 2 mattress positions instead of 3--don't you know that babies who sleep in 2 mattress position cribs average IQs that are 20 points lower than those who sleep in 3 mattress position cribs?"

It's a sickness, I know.

It's About the Stuff

Many moons ago, Grrl asked for suggestions from readers about the baby-related paraphernalia they found most essential.  She got a zillion or so responses that I read at the time, but as I wasn't quite there yet, I didn't take careful notes.

Now, thanks to the plagiarists that have caused Grrl to have to remove her archives from her blog, I find myself unable to access that resource.  Damn plagiarists!

So, I'm throwing myself on your mercy: what baby stuff does a minimalist city dweller in a small apartment really need?  I've chosen bedding, a crib, and a car seat/Snap N Go stroller combo.  What other essential items can I not live without?

Fetal Alarm Clock

I made my first baby-specific purchase last night: I ordered some bedding.  I have this notion that, with the bedding in hand, I'll be able to pick out a color to paint the walls and then, because everything matches, I'll appear to have some competence in the field of wanna-be parenting.

I was waiting for a sign that it was time to buy the bedding--a burning bush, a shooting star, a 50% off sale--but none of those things happened so I just wandered over to the computer, credit card in hand, and ordered some.  Just like that.  After the fact, I worried about the jinx factor: could one both crow about successful 28-week appointments and buy baby accoutrements while still avoiding the evil eye?  Since I had my second NST this morning, I figured I would know soon enough.

I had a different tech this morning.  She hooked me up to the machine but turned the volume way down so at first I couldn't actually hear a heartbeat.  I lay on the bed getting all sweaty and panicky until she saw my wide eyes and turned up the volume.   She handed me the button to press when I felt movement and then she left.  And I waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Eventually she came back.  "The baby's asleep," she said and before I knew what was happening, she put this little gadget against my belly, pressed a button, and produced the most jarring sound imaginable: sort of a cross between a really loud raspberry and an alarm clock.   Instantly, I felt the baby thrash around and the heart beat jumped a good 20 points.  "The baby's awake now," she chuckled as she left.

I was astonished.  It was clearly an effective device, and it was, I must confess, enormously satisfying to see the appropriate increase in heart rate and feel so much activity, but it seemed a little...mean.  The kid will need therapy before it's even born. 

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

Apologies to those who've asked how the 28-week appointments were.  I've been meaning to post--it's just that the computer is in an unairconditioned room.... 

I am sweltering in the heat.  Yea, veritably sweltering.  I spent my formative years in central a/c, which I loathed at the time, but which appears to have left an indelible mark on my ability to handle heat and humidity.  The classroom where I teach (until Wednesday) is not air conditioned so I spend the day leaving sweat rings on everything I touch and then I come home and flip on the window a/c my husband installed in the bedroom (love that man) where I remain until I feel almost human again.  It's going to be a long summer.

Anyway, back to the 28-week appointments: they were fine.  First up was the NST, which made me nervous because I knew I would be asked to report when I felt the baby move, and the thing is, I'm still not as clear on the fetal movement thing as I would like to be.  I had visions of us sitting there for hours, waiting for some definable movement, as predictions grew more and more dire....But no, the baby cooperated and moved on cue, producing the desired elevation in heart rate.  Phew.

Next up was the ultrasound.  We were teased with the promise of a new 4-D ultrasound machine that the tech was experimenting with, but the baby was a little camera shy so we didn't get any cool new pictures.  We did, however, get the measurements required to make an estimate for fetal weight: 2lbs, 13 oz.

Finally, I had the OB visit, which was uneventful.  Since I had to eat for the NST, I wasn't able to complete the fasting requirement for the 3-hour GTT so I returned for that little slice of heaven (at least the office was air conditioned!) later in the week.  I'm still waiting for those results. 

The plan for the foreseeable future is this: NSTs weekly, OB visits bi-weekly, and ultrasounds monthly.  It looks more and more like we might have a baby.   Hmmm.  I guess we should start getting ready.