SMC x 2

With LG on winter break, Tiny Boy and I have gotten out of the house more than we had previously (also helps that the boy has hit 6 weeks, which is the minimum length the doctor wanted him sequestered).  Many people (my sister, random folks at the library, etc) have said either a) I'm surprised you're out of the house at six weeks or b) I don't know how you do it [the mom of 2 thing] or some variation on the above.

But what I'm doing hardly feels worth commenting on, much less extraordinary.  Plenty of women are single parents to multiples, by chance or by choice.  And what's a trip to the public library or the grocery store with kids in tow?  Granted, the whole schlepping Tiny Boy in a carseat thing is a royal pain, and if I've got both kids, everything takes at least 15 minutes longer than it used to (although, frankly, some of that is LG), but generally it (life, that is) seems manageable.  Things will get much more challenging when I'm back to work full time, but even that is eons from now (assuming my sabbatical is approved).  I'm just about halfway done with my (technical) maternity leave.  The first half really was about recovering from major surgery and getting acquainted with a newborn.  The second half?  Well, I'd like to get us on something resembling a routine.  I'd like to reorganize some of the chaos from the last six weeks of pregnancy and the first six weeks of Tiny Boy's life.  I'd like to read something more challenging than random nonfiction from the new book shelves at the library, or Goodnight Moon.


Part of me wonders if I'd find my situation more challenging if I hadn't gone through the hell of the past three years, and, of course, there's no way to know.  But I have to say, people, for all the physical toll that new mothering takes, I am really not feeling out of balance or overwhelmed.  And 2012 just might be The Year of Peace.

(p.s. apparently what I needed was a moby-wrap-type-thing that's a good third shorter than the real deal, courtesy of A and some black lycra)

Quiet

Thank goodness.

My mom and sister have been visiting for the past five days.  And while they stayed at a hotel (thank goodness) things have still been rather chaotic.  A lot of catering to LG--movie, museum, swimming at the hotel pool--and noise in general.

But the family has left.  It is snowing.  LG is out with friends for the next 2 hrs or so, and I've got Tiny Boy (not crying anymore, thank goodness) asleep in the scaled down to my size mock-moby (courtesy of A, of course).

Now what I really should do is a) clean my desk, b) do a load of laundry, or c) finish writing thank you notes (many gifts for the baby, many thank you notes), but I suspect that I will d) watch another episode of Gilmore Girls on DVD. 

But for right now it's quiet.  And that's good, no matter what I do with my time.

Random Bullets While Tiny Boy Naps

• Tiny Boy and I had the house to ourselves last night, as LG spent the night in a hotel with her grandmother and aunt.  Weird, but very nice being on our own schedule this morning, esp. since it was one of those nights he nursed every 1.5-2 hrs.
• I am trying to adjust to drinking coffee with only sugar.  (The other times I've been dairy-free I've also cut coffee, and dammit I want to drink coffee [decaf, in case you're wondering].)  I was limiting my dairy intake to only cream in coffee, but it seems (alas) that Tiny Boy is a bit better on the tummy front if I eliminate completely.  Which sucks, but whatever.
• Random people keep making comments like wow, you lost all that baby weight fast, which is fascinating to me, given that I am still 20 lbs heavier than I was the day of transfer and can't even fit into the size 6 jeans I bought postpartum with LG, much less the size 1 I usually wear.  I don't really care about the number on the scale, but it would be nice to wear something other than maternity pants without buying a new wardrobe.
• Appointment with the urologist was not particularly helpful in terms of the question of whether or not Tiny Boy's hypospadias will be surgically corrected.  Methinks I will be inquiring about a second opinion at the children's hospital down the blasted highway of all things fertility.  I might have more to say about this later.
• I ended up purchasing a sampler of cloth diapers.  They scare me, and they are too big to fit Tiny Boy at present.  More on this later as well.
• As for the question of baby carriers, I bought a freehand mei tai carrier and it is awesome.  I still use the bjorn when we're out (like the grocery store), or when Tiny Boy is thrashing about so much I can't possibly manage to tie myself in anything.
• I think that's all for now.  Happy holidays, everyone!

The $60,000 Baby

Apparently it cost about the same to surgically excise Tiny Boy from my uterus as it did to put him in there in the first place.

Yes, I just received a bill to the tune of $24K because the hospital billed the wrong fucking insurance company.  Oops.

Thankfully, maternity care is covered 100% when billed, you know, correctly.

Now I just have to see how long it takes them to do that.

Nine Years

Nine years ago today I had a D&C to end my first pregnancy.  I wonder how I would have felt if only I had known that a year later I would be pregnant with LG and nine years later the mother of two.  I miss that little boy I didn't get to know beyond those few weeks.  But how wonderful my life has turned out to be.

And Now a Post About Penises

Yeah.  Who would have thought.

So sometime in the blur of my time in the recovery room, A informed me that the pediatrician had found an irregularity with Tiny Boy's penis, upon his post-birth inspection.  Turns out he has hypospadias and a hooded foreskin (which may or may not be a related condition "chordee").  Not surprisingly (to me, at least), this condition has been linked to IVF/ICSI (research also refutes that link, so who really knows).  But I'm not going down that road in this post; suffice it to say that by the time I gave birth I was so worried about major problems with Tiny Boy that an irregularity with his urethra seemed pretty unimportant.  Five weeks later, I'm still pretty blase about it, except when I wonder what else might be going on with him that I don't know about.

Anyhoo...we have an appointment with a pediatric urologist later this week, which to my mind is purely informational.  Tiny Boy's pediatrician seems to think that surgery is a given, even though there does not seem to be a medical (or even sexual [do I really want to think about my 5-week-old eventually having sex?!]) reason to do so.  It basically comes down to the fact that he might not be able to pee gracefully standing up (at least if the condition is as mild as it appears to be).  So I find myself--me, teacher of gender studies, opposed to circumcision as a general principle--wondering just how Tiny Boy might feel about his penis when it is, well, not so tiny.  It came as no surprise to me that when I googled this condition, hits came up for the Intersex Society of North America, a group that believes intersex children should not receive sexual reassignment surgery without their consent; in that regard, operating on a baby boy for hypospadias for social, rather than medical, reasons is much the same.

There's all kinds of philosophical stuff here for me to work through.  In the end, I want what will be best for my son.  But not having a penis myself...I'm not really sure what that should be.  Will be interesting to hear what the urologist, a penis-bearer and penis-surgeon, has to say.

Now What Do I Do?

It's 4:50.  An hour ago I was strapping a screaming baby into a carrier to pick up his sister from the bus stop.  She came home, changed into actual clothes (it was pajama day at school), ate an apple and a candy cane, and went off with our neighbors to the local kid production of The Nutcracker.  Not quite sure when she will be returned.  Screaming baby is now asleep, cats have been fed, and I've had a hunk of wheat-free/dairy-free brownies.  That counts as dinner, right?

So now what?

Marking the Moment

When LG was born, I was too caught up in the moment of being a new mom to document her early months with a scrapbook, or even send out birth announcements (I mean, everyone I cared about already knew, and more distant relatives my mother informed).  This week I made a birth announcement card for Tiny Boy and plan to send it out to everyone I can think of.  Seems like an important thing to do to mark the "end" of this journey, even to people who didn't know there was a journey lasting beyond 37 weeks of gestation.  In my more passive-aggressive moments, I've considered sending it to the acupuncturist who told me I didn't need to use donor eggs (but did, apparently, need to starve myself in order to conceive) as well as Dr. Evil, who probably wouldn't even remember me from two appointments more than 3 years ago.

In a more generous mood, today I put a couple snapshots in an envelope with a thank you note to Nurse of the Everchanging Nickname and her cohort.  Although they did many stupid things along the way (forget to order Ganirelix much?) they also came through for me, and their role in Tiny Boy's existence should not go unacknowledged.  It occurred to me that it was three years ago today (the Thursday of finals week, at least) that I had my initial consult with Dr. Gorgeous.  It's astonishing how different my life is now, and equally astonishing that it took three years to get here.

Right now I've got Tiny Boy sleeping strapped to my chest, a quiet house, and a cup of tea.  I really couldn't ask for anything more.  The next phase, it seems, will be accepting that I finally have the life I want, instead of bemoaning the one I don't.

And Now a Few Words About LG

People keep asking how LG likes being a big sister.  The short answer: she loves it.  She reads to her brother, she holds him daily (after being hand-sanitized, of course!), and she "watches" him while I do things like put dinner on the table.

But we have what would seem to be an odd form of sibling readjustment (not rivalry, really) going on here.  As I mentioned briefly in a recent post, LG cleaned the bathroom sink and tub the other day, because I was about to do it and I guess it seemed like fun to her (just like scrubbing pots seemed fun about a month ago).  She also washed fingerprints off the walls when she saw me attacking them with a baby wipe (I'm going through some post-baby nesting or something, I guess).  Now these are helpful things, even if I need to clean up after her cleaning.  I don't want to discourage her from doing something she views as helpful.  And, to be fair, there are legitimately helpful things she does, like putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher on occasion because, as she noted, "you're occupied" (nursing the baby, of course).  We have a reward system going through which she puts marbles in a jar and cashes them in for either rewards or actual money when the jar is full; it's something she picked up at school that works well for her.  So...all these chores she does earn marbles.  And she usually earns bonus marbles for doing unsolicited chores.

You know there's a but coming, right?  Now what would be really helpful is if she just put her freaking toys away.  And backpack.  And coat/shoes/mittens/hat.  And schoolwork.  And if she put her gum wrappers/lollipop wrappers/random scraps of paper in the trash, rather than the coffee table.  And if she put her cereal back in the cabinet and brought the stapler back to my office after she took it out.  I fold laundry and it ends up in a ball on her bedroom floor.  The result is that I am constantly reminding her to put things away.  Or doing it myself, because if I'm going to be home all day with the Boy, I need some semblance of order.  What she told me, when I confronted her about this:  Mommy, I like cleaning.  I do not like putting things away.   

Now if I were being logical about this, I'd just encourage her weird desires, get her a package of rubber gloves for Hanukkah, and re-delegate the chores in our house.  But I just want her to be a kid, who does kid things, and then puts them away.  And leaves the bathroom sink to me. 

It's Official

I am now Associate Professor Gwinne.

I will say it again:  it seems 2011 didn't suck after all.

Adventures in Co-Sleeping (II)

Well...every time I think I've figured out ways to keep Tiny Boy asleep at night, he proves otherwise.  Last night we were awake mostly from 12-5 in a nonstop nursing-burping-changing-holding-nursing cycle.  He wasn't particularly fussy unless I put him down, but he also wouldn't sleep, at least not for more than a short (like 30 minutes?) stretch.  Tried the rocker.  Tried the moses basket.  Even dragged the swing into my bedroom, which worked for about two minutes.

There are a couple issues here:

1. He doesn't have his days and nights "mixed up" as some people say...he just doesn't distinguish between them.  He has a few (3-4) longish periods of wakefulness in a 24 hour period, not totalling more than about 6 hrs.  Yesterday he slept and slept and slept (2 round trips in the car) and decided I was really interesting to look at at about 2 in the morning.  How a person who sleeps 18 hrs can manage to keep me up most of the night is somewhat astonishing, but there you go.

2. The nursing/belly ache confusion.  He thinks he's hungry and cries, so I feed him, even though I know that his real problem is that he hasn't burped adequately or he's refluxing.  It's easy enough during the day to ask LG to hold him, which means he can't smell the milk.  At night?  I hold him and he starts rooting (i.e. bashing his head into my chest) and gets very annoyed if I hold him facing outward the try to placate him with the pacifier.

Last night these two issues combined into probably one of our worst nights in his 28 days (yes, he's 4 weeks, folks!).  Thankfully, we both fell asleep around 4:30 or 5:00, he didn't wake to nurse until 7:30, LG decided to take advantage of us sleeping to watch extra TV and leave us alone, and we didn't get out of bed until 9:00ish.  Then more milk and multiple diaper changes and a bath and a very happy alert boy.  And an older sister who decided cleaning the bathroom looked fun?!*

Well, it's been 2 hours of baby sleeping in the swing--2 hours of helping LG with a computer project and reading around on the blogosphere and creating a crockpot stew--and now he's stirring...so must milk him and hopefully have an afternoon.  This mom of two thing is nothing and everything like I imagined.  Which is a story for another day.


*I have a whole post on the craziness that is LG right now.  She'll do grunt work around the house if she sees me doing it, but absolutely refuses to put away her own stuff (or my stuff that she takes out) which I find both amusing and infuriating, depending on the particular moment.

Another Post About Baby Gear

1. Experience with mei tei carriers or the pikkolo soft-structured carrier?  I've been putting Tiny Boy in the Bjorn (although he is technically about 2 lbs and 2 inches too small) with a fair amount of success; I just tuck his hands up by his face as his arms don't quite reach the arm holes.  Still, not a major fan of this carrier, just happens to be the one I have around the house. 

2. Still debating whether to begin cloth diapering once Tiny Boy is out of preemie disposables (A actually made a couple preemie sized diapers for him, but the cover was too big to reliably try out).  A's used all kinds o' diapers for different reasons.  BPF uses Flips.  Any readers have cloth diapering experience/preferences?  Really, my only reservation is the extra laundry.  And I think if I go cloth I only want to have to buy one size diaper to get us through...

Okay, must strap on the boy to fetch LG from the bus stop...

Life on Injectable Drugs

Is officially over.  I know, never say never.

But I saw the hematologist today--per my discharge instructions from the hospital--and she was perplexed about why I was back on Lovenox.  (Umm, because my OB's office said that your office said I needed to be?)  So I'm done.

But she said to keep the leftovers just in case.  Gee, thanks.

In other news, Tiny Boy is wearing newborn clothes that actually fit!  And his (second) umbilical stump fell off today!  What a big boy!

Things I Do Not Understand About Undergraduates

1. Why you would dawdle for weeks about getting materials to a professor who has agreed to write you a letter of recommendation and then expect that when you informed her that oops, your deadline is Dec 5, not Dec 15, she'd actually be able to get it done, especially since you know she is on leave and it is now Dec 3.

2. Why you'd ask for a letter of recommendation two weeks before the end of the semester and then send a follow up email saying to forget about the previous request, you've decided not to apply after all but probably will next year.

These people perplex me.  I have to say, it's pretty nice being on baby time, not semester time, right now.  Trying very hard to remember this is the only time in my life I will be on maternity leave, and I've got a very long career left ahead of me.

Adventures in Co-Sleeping

I've resisted co-sleeping with Tiny Boy because he's, well, tiny.  Although I slept with LG directly next to me for most of her first 2.5 years, I never really worried about any of that stuff you're supposed to worry about when co-sleeping, like rolling over on your child.

But last night, after putting him in the moses basket and listening to him cry and hearing all the creaks and moans in my own body, I held him until he fell back to sleep and then just dumped him next to me in the middle of the bed.  And woke to him sandwiched under my left breast around 4:30, which seemed as good a cue as any that he wanted to eat.

So while I'm still vaguely worried about smothering him (didn't realize he could scoot that much), wow, sleep.

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties

I.

Last night I semi-intentionally slept with Tiny Boy camped out on my chest and my left arm propped on the boppy.  And you know what happened?  Instead of waking every hour or two and then having a protracted feeing/burping/holding ritual that can last up to an hour and a half...the kid slept.  Yeah.  I nursed around 10:00, again at 1:00, woke at 3:00 but he didn't (so I changed his heavy diaper in his sleep) and at 5:00.  I feel almost human.  Would have been even better if I'd fallen back to sleep after that early morning feed (he did), but I'll take what I can get. 

Although I am reluctant to draw major conclusions from one night of good sleep, it does seem that he's more comfortable with that arrangment than in the moses-basket-on-my-bed version.  During the day he's mostly in the swing, or in my arms.

There are two problems with the baby-on-the-chest method of sleep.  (1) Most obviously, not particularly safe, even if one believes (as I do) that co-sleeping in general is a good thing.  And (2) oh-my-goodness I am sore.  Combine the whole postpartum funky pelvis/tailbone situation with a numb left arm and a scrunchy lower back and, well, my whole body hurts.  Yeah, perhaps something similar is why I ended up in physical therapy when LG was about 18 months because my neck was so out of whack.  Not sure what I'll do tonight.

II.

I bought a moby wrap because I have friends who've used them and I believe in baby wearing and that seemed like a good plan.  So yesterday I decided that even though it says 8 lb minimum I could give it a shot with Tiny Boy (the website has testimonials about preemies, so clearly not consistent).  Let's just say thank goodness for free returns from amazon.  I was completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fabric involved before I even got it completely strapped on, much less put the boy inside it.  So...looking for an alternative.  Don't want a sling (I don't think) and we already have a bjorn that I used for LG, although it killed my back so I stopped using it probably arond 6 mo.  I'm not likely to use anything as a back carrier, but I like the idea of a hip carrying possibility for an older child.  What does that leave?  A mei tei type carrier?

III. 

LG and I had our belated sushi night last night, which was fantastic, but oh my goodness it took fifty minutes to get both kids in the car, drive to the restaurant, pick up the food, drive back home, and get everyone back out of the car.  I mean, I knew it would take longer to do, well, everything.  But wow.  Part of the problem is getting Tiny Boy in an ill-fitting blanket sleeper that I'm using as a sort of coat, and then surrounded by the rolled up receiving blankets that hold him generally in place in the seat and then strapped in (cue screaming baby) and topped with another few blankets before carrying the whole contraption to the car and waiting for LG to get strapped in to her booster seat, which is quite challenging with an infant seat right next to her, but the car seat installation expert person at the hospital said that's preferable to having Tiny Boy behind the passenger seat.  Sigh.

LG has gymnastics in an hour and a half.  I suppose I should get dressed now... well, after I change Tiny Boy's diaper. 

That is, things are pretty damn good here at Chez Gwinne.

Random Bullets of Sleep Deprivation

• I am afraid that Something Remarkable might turn into one of those mommy blogs I generally don't read.  But it is 11:46 and I am in my pajamas while Tiny Boy sleeps (thank goodness) in his swing and I don't have much else to say.
• Can I say my neighbors rock?  They volunteered to walk LG to the bus stop when they walk their dog, which keeps me from needing to (a) get dressed and (b) have a 5 lb baby outside in 20 degree weather.
• Said neighbors also sent their 9-year-old over to shovel my driveway and between her and LG, they got most of it done passably well.  (And we're not going to talk about the fact that I actually tried doing some of it myself, which I'm sure is not on my approved list of activities until at least 6 weeks post-surgery.)
• Although I have not talked much about her lately, LG dotes on her brother.  She reads to him, holds him every day, and tries to teach him his letters and shapes (I did explain that he's, umm, still learning English, but perhaps he'll end up being the smartest kid in his infant daycare, if I ever enroll him in daycare).
• When I told A about Tiny Boy's stop breathing episode, her reply was, has he not read your chart?  And apparently he still hasn't gotten the memo, as last night he spewed milk out his nose a good hour after nursing and then screamed so much he exhausted himself and fell limply back to sleep.  Little boy, you have to stop freaking your mother the fuck out.
• Yes, folks, Tiny Boy appears to have reflux.  Been there, done that, had Kid #1 on zantac at 9 weeks.  But the milk out the nose thing was new.  The result was I spent about 75% of last night sleeping with him on my chest, which is certainly not the safest thing to do, but it's really the only way he rests comfortably after nursing.  Have I mentioned I'm exhausted?
• InB, thank you for insisting that I put an auto-reply on my email.  Now I just need to remember not to check it anyway.  It only brings guilt.

39

If you've been around Something Remarkable for a while, you know I've had a rough time with birthdays.  My 30th was in the midst of the longest-miscarriage-in-human-history.  36 involved a cancelled cycle due to Dr. Evil's incompetence.  37 was post-IVF and quickly followed by a likely chemical pregnancy.  38 I just flat out refused to acknowledge because it was my donor egg deadline.

I turned 39 today.  And it's snowing, which is amazing (even if it did screw up my plans for sushi night).  And I spent the evening in my warm home with my two kids and two cats, feeling like knowing I have everything I've wanted for so long.

And it occurred to me that that's part of what's making me so emotional these days.  Happiness, yes.  Gratitude, of course.  But a lot of disbelief and uncertainty, too.  How can this possibly be my life?  And how long will the dream last?

40 weeks or 15 days

So today's my due date.  If things had gone swimmingly well, I would have hopefully had a VBAC in the past week, or a scheduled c-section tomorrow or Tuesday (my birthday!).  Instead, I have a 15-day-old sleeping in a crib.  Although he still looks like a baby with IUGR (comparatively large head, skinny belly, scrawny limbs, and even more wrinkly skin than your average newborn), I can tell he's plumped up since his last doctor visit, and just in the past few days,as predicted, he's started acting more like a baby and less like a fetus (he has eyes!  he especially loves looking at his sister!).

Tiny Boy is clearly doing better in the world than in my body, which is both a marvelous thing and another reproductive strike against me.  Both my "full term" pregancies have been cut short for medical reasons, and I miss that intrauterine time, just as I miss the miscarried embryos who never had a chance to become a child.  It's hard for me to get my head around the fact that I will, in all likelihood, not be pregnant again.  Because for all its complications, I like the experience of pregnancy.

But having two extra weeks of babyness?  Right now, that seems like a damn good trade-off.

Where is Nurse Patty when you need her?

My mother, who came out the day before Tiny Boy's birth, is leaving tomorrow.

I have a very clear memory of me standing in my apartment doorway holding a 12-day-old LG watching my mother leave for the airport--crying.  Feeling abandoned, overwhelmed, and scared.  The next day I had to have a friend drive me 45 minutes to the doctor to have my oozing c-section incision checked.

So here we are, minus the nasty incision, plus some new bleeding (uhh, I thought I was done with that DAYS ago) and an almost-8-year-old who needs to be taken to school every day.  And did I mention me screaming for my mother last night when I swear Tiny Boy stopped breathing when he choked on the milk he forgot he was drinking?  Long seconds of baby turning beet red and then white.  Thankfully, he coughed some up and after some rigorous back-patting started crying again, but there I was holding my 13-day-old son sobbing he's just so little with my now prodigious left breast hanging out of my bra.

That brings me to the real subject of this post:  what happens tomorrow when I take over all responsibilities as a single mama to two?  I think generally I'll be able to handle it; the almost-8-year age difference can be wonderfully helpful.  I mean, LG reads to her brother.  She can get herself dressed and ready for school, and she's fully capable of fetching blankets, minuscule hats, and whatever else her brother needs.  (She also accosts him with a pacifier, because she thinks he must use it, even though he shows a clear preference for his own hand, but I digress.)  But I also know myself, and I know that my inclination will be to overdo it.  To freak out because the house is a mess (my mother is many marvelous things, but a neatnik she is not).  To run too many errands.  To use Tiny Boy's naps for writing and dealing with the neverending odds and ends of my job. 

I also know I am easily frustrated and don't deal well with hours of crying...not to mention chronic sleep deprivation.  Thankfully, Tiny Boy seems to have nights he can go hours at a stretch without waking (although at least until his 2-week checkup, I need to set an alarm every 3 hours to nurse) but he also has nights (last night) when he wakes hourly or decides to take a 2-hour wakeful period around 2:00 am, during which he needs to be held, rocked, etc, so he doesn't wake up the entire household. 

I guess I won't know what it's like--this whole single mom times two thing--until I have to do it.  So:  sometime this afternoon or tomorrow morning I need to take my first venture into the driver's seat, sans baby (it freaked me the fuck out to have to drive LG to the doctor as my first trip back in a car after surgery).  I feel much better than I thought I would, but I really have limited my activities with my mom's backup.  It's only been the past couple days that I even attempted carrying the baby up and down the stairs.  I might need to practice getting the baby in his stroller and down the stairs and walking LG to the bus stop, to see how long it takes (frankly, I think I'll be driving her a good many days so I don't have to get me and a baby dressed and out the door by 8:02 on the dot).  I'm sure there are many challenges I haven't really thought of.  Because from everything I've been told adding one child multiples the level of complexity by much more than two.

I know I'm lucky that I've had great backup so far.  I spent five days in the hospital, during which time I deliberately kept Tiny Boy in the nursery at night so I could get a modicum of sleep between blood pressure and incision checks and feedings.  And since then my mother has done the brunt of the housework and tending to LG, and we've had colleagues/friends stopping by with food (which is awesome, and I am quite grateful, but I sort of wish they'd waited until my mom left and I made my way through our own Thanksgiving leftovers).  And now it's me, more or less without a safety net.

I guess that's the way it should be.  Finally having my life the way I want it.  As a tenured (?!) professor/single mother to two, on the cusp of 39.  I will say it again:  it seems 2011 didn't suck after all.

Gratitude

1. I am grateful for the baby (my baby) sleeping downstairs while I type;
2. for my smart (occasionally sassy) daughter;
3. for my mother, brother, and sister;
4. for A, L, M, and my friends in real life;
5. for the incredible support of the online community;
6. for my cozy house, with all its 1940s quirks and faults;
7. for chai tea and decaf coffee;
8. for living in a place with cafes again;
9. for the public library and interlibrary loan;
10. for Netflix and hulu and movies without leaving my bed;
11. for snuggly warm cats;
12. for hand-me-down baby gear, especially Tiny Boy's swing;
13. for life-saving grants and leaves of absence;
14. I am grateful that it looks like I'll have tenure and job security;
15. that I have a job that allows me to think, read, and write;
16. that I am not a fertility patient any more;
17. that I survived the past three years, more or less in tact;
18. that I live in a place, right now, that affords reproductive choice;
19. that I live in a time when donor gametes open up those choices
20. and that I am financially secure enough to pursue them;
21. that life with injectable drugs will be over in about 4 weeks;
22. that my family is healthy;
23. that my mother has been able to see us through Tiny Boy's first days;
24. that she has been willing to do countless loads of laundry and diaper changes;
25. that books still exist in print form;
26. that LG adores her brother;
27. I am grateful for small moments of quiet
28. and fiesty baby cries;
29. I am grateful to Dr. Gorgeous for knowing what she needed to say;
30. I am even more grateful that she knew how to listen;
31. I am grateful to the therapist who saw me through DE and the first half of this pregnancy;
32. to the colleagues and acquaintances who have only good wishes for this newest member of my family;
33. to the two donors who allowed my small son to come into being;
34. to my OB's office for making sure he arrived safely;
35. for ultrasounds and NSTs;
36. for PIO and steroids and lovenox;
37. for lanolin and a nursing bra that fits;
38. for all that 2011 has given me
39. and a chance at peace in my 40th year.

("I'm thankful for: my big sister!" onesie courtesy of LG)

Post Reproductive Traumatic Stress Disorder...Or Something

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation.

Or maybe it's the postpartum hormones.

Or maybe it's the reality of bringing Tiny Boy home.

(You know, after years of treatment and RPL and using DE, not to mention the fact that I'd completely given up on this pregnancy at 5 weeks and 9 weeks...and that whole placental insufficiency/IUGR thing)

But I am one weepy girl.

I don't think this is postpartum depression, because I'm not depressed.  I don't even think I'm sad.  I'm just overloaded with emotion, anxiety, something.  And I really wish that my old therapist was covered by my insurance, because I could use a chat about now.

I triaged my work email this morning and found a message from Dr. Gorgeous, and I started bawling again.

I am so grateful.  To her and her staff.  To the two donors who made Tiny Boy possible.  But I have to say, even now, holding him, nursing him, taking oodles of pictures of him...I'm not over it.  I know I've said it before, but I feel like a happy carefree pregnancy was stolen from me.  And a real birth was stolen from me.  I'd like to shelve all that.  Just enjoy him (and believe me, I am enjoying him) without all the emotional baggage of the past three years.

But at least for now (knock wood) my body seems to be doing something right.  As of yesterday morning, I have a thriving 5 lb 3 oz (yes, he's surpassed his birth weight) baby.  Whom I need to wake up to nurse...

Still Life with Tiny Boy and Little Gwinne (II)

(Where was I?  Oh, yes, rambling about the birth...)

II.  A Little Premature

Turns out, despite everyone saying that 37 weeks is full term, 37 weeks isn't exactly full term.  At least not for growth restricted babies.  I wasn't sure what to expect immediately after birth; I was told that if Tiny Boy was okay I'd be able to hold him right away, and that some women even manage to breastfeed in the operating room, but really it all depended on him.  Fortunately, I did get to hold Tiny Boy for a while as the doctor put me back together, but for the entire 2.5 hrs I was in recovery (with M) he was in the nursery (with A), as his breathing was labored and his blood sugar low.  Also, a lot of trouble regulating temperature.  He was checked frequently for these issues in the first twenty-four hours but luckily didn't need to spend any more time in the nursery (much less the NICU).

He's healthy.  And in some ways freakishly strong (he can hold his head up and roll from one side to the other in his crib!).  But he's tiny.  By Tuesday, he'd dropped the usual 6% percent of his body weight, which might be okay for a larger baby but put him at 4 lbs 12 oz.  Much panicking about milk supply and supplementation with formula ensued.  Fortunately (?), by Monday night I was also a hugely engorged cow and started pumping milk, which the nurses or my mother used to cup feed him.  Although he's got a great latch, breastfeeding exhausts him, and he's usually asleep after 5 minutes.  He sleeps much more than I remember LG sleeping, and I need to wake him (both night and day) to nurse.

Generally speaking, newborns freak me out because of their size and fragility.  Tiny Boy is so small that preemie diapers slide off him.*  His ribs are visible, and his hands look like wrinkly old man hands.  This is why he needed to be delivered early; based on my last ultrasound measurements, he was a nearly 38 week baby, with a head circumference of a 36 weeker and an abdomen of only 32.5.  That asymmetrical growth (what they call "head sparing") is, apparently, the major clue that the problem is most likely placental insufficiency and IUGR, not just a normally tiny baby.

By all accounts, at a week old, he's doing great.  He's up to 5 lbs, and hopefully will be back to his birth weight on Monday (inside my body, he gained about 7 ounces in two weeks; outside, he seems to be gaining an ounce per day).  The pediatrician is pleased, but she's also treating him like a preemie.  Minimal visitors, esp. those with children, for 6-8 weeks; keep him out of public places with germs.  She was thrilled that he won't be in a regular daycare setting until probably after 6 months.  LG knows to use hand sanitizer the minute she walks in the house.  My body was failing him, and now I'll do anything I can to protect him.

It's really hard for me to get my head around the fact that he's here, he's (mostly) healthy, and he's mine.

I've got about half an hour before I need to wake him again, so I think I'll stop here.  Next up:  Post-Reproductive Traumatic Stress Discorder; Where is Nurse Patty when you need her?; And being a single mom of two.
 
*If any of you have tricks for diapering 5 lb babies, finding clothes that actually fit, and securing them safely in car seats, please pass them on!

Still Life with Tiny Boy and Little Gwinne

Well, folks, he's here.  Sleeping in a moses basket next to me.  My mom's downstairs on the phone.  LG is at school, probably at lunch.  I don't know that I have the words to characterize the past five days, so I'll try to give you some highlights.


I.  The Birth

Both A and M accompanied me to the hospital on Saturday, and we had a good four hours of levity before the surgery.  But by the time they had me walk back to the operating room, I was, to put it bluntly, an emotional mess.  I found myself thinking a lot about the extra valium Dr. G prescribed after my embryo transfer.  Even the doctor--who was not my doctor, but Dr. Gray Zone--told me they could put "happy medicine" in my IV if I needed it after birth.  At this point, M went to the waiting room, A waited to be allowed in the operating room, and I was taken for a spinal.

Sobbing ensued.  Someone making an observation that the baby was freaking out on the monitor, probably because of my anxiety level.  Someone making a stupid comment about hormones.  The question, again, about why I was on heparin and when I took my last dose.  (Do you know how many times I had to say recurrent pregnancy loss before my son was born?)  More sobbing.  Blood pressure inching higher.  The anesthesiologist, whom M nicknamed Dr. Radio Voice, told an assistant to get the surgeon now, that we were more than ready.

At some point around now A was allowed in.  I kept crying.  A tried to get me to say if the problem was physical or emotional but I just kept crying and she stroked my arm which was, as she said later, pinned down like Jesus.  Turns out that was exactly the right thing to do, even though I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth.  (Have I mentioned I hate IVs, blood pressure cuffs, heart monitors, all the tubes that take me straight back to my D&C?)  The doctor didn't say much during the surgery.  Initially, that I'd healed very well from c-section #1 and then that they were dealing with some scar tissue on my bladder which was making it take longer than usual.  And then she told A to get ready to take pictures.

Whimpery baby noises.  A saying over and over he's okay, he's okay, he's not that small, he's okay.  Rinse and repeat.  And then, friends, it seems I had a son. 

(Well, this has gotten much longer than I anticipated, and it's now 2 hours and a lot of tears later, after my lunch and Tiny Boy's repeated harassment by his grandmother to try to wake him up to nurse, which I will tell you about whenever I find some more time to write...)

For now, I'll leave you with this:

He's here!

5 lbs 2 oz, 19.5 inches.  Healthy.

More later.

Feeling Loved

Thank you all for your good wishes (and advice!).  I'm definitely feeling the love over here at Chez Gwinne.

It's really amazing how large my support system seems to be, given how completely introverted I am.  And I'm not just talking about you, whom I know mostly through the computer.  Several of LG's friends' parents have volunteered to take her, not only for baby emergencies but as regular drivers to various extracurricular activities.  Neighbors have said they'd be happy to help out in that unspecified way that neighbors do, and perhaps if it snows enough to warrant shoveling in the next few weeks, I'll take them up on it.  And A. and M., who are my dearest friends here, just might get into a fist fight about who gets to see Tiny Boy surgically excised from my uterus (yes, that's an overstatement, but I really don't know how to choose!).

I'm still not sure how I'm going to spend my day:  the pajamas and movies on the laptop sounds quite appealing, but I should also do stupid stuff like buy a nursing bra that might actually fit (I've been squishing myself into a 34C during pregnancy but anticipate cup size going up, which is, you know, astonishing given that I'm usually a 32B, but that's enough about my breasts).  There's also a campus event I feel guilty for not attending, and I might, depending on how I'm feeling later this afternoon.  But the fact that I can't get into my school email--well, let's just say that seems like a sign from the universe that I don't have a job today other than gestating.  Tonight, LG is going to paint my toenails so they're pretty (ahem), and we'll probably play a game of Life and cozy up in my bed with the cats.  She is super excited about her brother's impending arrival, and is bursting at the seams to tell someone his NAME.

I'm starting to get my head around the idea that in not much more than 24 hours I won't be pregnant any more.  The idea that I will be a mother of TWO and there could be a baby using all this baby stuff?  Well, not quite there yet.  Just hoping I get to help bump up Dr. G's DE live birth rate stats at this point... transfer was exactly 34 weeks ago.  How weird is that?

The Plan

C-section scheduled for Saturday.  Which I did not see coming as a possible choice, but there you go.

Tiny Boy (aka Mr. Baby Man, The Boy, The Peanut) has definitely earned this latest nickname.  Estimated weight is only 4 lbs 15 oz.

Everything else looks fine but this is the point at which the OB thinks he'll do better in the world.

So what do I do with myself for the next ~48 hrs?

Let's take a poll, shall we?

How many of you think Tiny Boy will be delivered

a) as a scheduled c-section tomorrow or Friday (37-38 weeks)
b) next week via trial of labor (38-39 weeks)
c) as a scheduled c-section the week of Thanksgiving (39-40 weeks)
d) via trial of labor the week of Thanksgiving (39-40 weeks)
e) something else I haven't thought of

FWIW, I've been told I'm not going past my due date, which is November 27...

The Week in Pictures

In Which IVF Kitten Thinks He's a Real Baby

In Which LG Dons a Disguise

In Which Gwinne Takes a Belly Shot (37w)

On Maternity Leave

Maternity leave for staff and other non-faculty folks at my university is very straightforward:  6-8 weeks short term disability (assuming you've given birth) plus 6 weeks parental leave.  Maternity leave for faculty technically involves an identical time component...but obviously doesn't track with a semester system, which means there's all kinds of negotiations and variations that happen from department to department.  (I have to say, I really liked the policy at the SLAC where I taught when LG was born:  a full semester at 80% salary.)  Anyhoo...what's particularly odd in my situation is that I'm already on leave.  While it matters to the university--in terms of where my salary comes from, I think--if I'm on disability or not, it makes no difference to my department.  What that means in practical terms, though, is that my grant time sort of disappears (no one in HR or my department chair could make any sense of this).  If I'd actually been teaching this semester, I'm pretty sure my OB would have had me on disability weeks ago and someone else would have been teaching my classes; there's no way I could have been doing full time on campus things and being at her office as much as I am.  (I'm also guessing there would have been a high blood pressure issue, as every time I've gone from campus to her office it's insanely high for me)

The point of all this rambling is I'm not exactly sure (a) when to consider myself really on medical/maternity leave and (b) how much/what do I want to do during that time.  Case in point:  another student emailed me to ask for letters of rec for grad school.  That's a couple hours of my time and probably a trip to campus to pick up more letterhead.  If he had material to me today I'd get it done prior to Thursday and then forget about it.  But what happens if I deliver on Thursday/Friday and his material shows up, as it probably will, sometime next week?  Obviously I'll be writing a letter with a newborn attached to my breast or, hopefully, asleep in his crib.  But what if he's in the NICU?  (Yeah, okay, enough with the 'what if's' but you know what I mean.)  I was honest with him:  said I'm happy to write the letter but he should know I'm expecting a baby at any time now, so my ability to get it done on time is somewhat questionable.

When LG was born I was in my third year on the tenure track.  I felt guilty about not working.  I also felt--after the first 10 weeks, anyway--that I was going a bit nutty just staying home and being LG's mom.  (I suppose it didn't help that LG cried what seemed like nonstop.  Come to think of it, now she talks/sings nonstop...)  I met with thesis advisees (at my house) within a few weeks of her birth.  I brought her to a couple department meetings (it was a department of 7; I could even leave her with my dean).  I didn't worry about writing/research, but that wasn't the emphasis of the college in terms of tenure and promotion.

Now...I'm not quite sure what this post-baby time will look like.  Assuming I get that final bit of approval, I'll be tenured.  My major job responsibility here is writing/research, which I've planned, anyway, to put off until my leave is officially up (around March 1, depending on when I deliver) unless I get a revise-and-resubmit or a similar situation with an immediate external deadline.  My involvement with student organizations should be minimal, though I'm guessing there will be a lot of email triage.  My departmental service can be avoided altogether until after maternity leave (though who knows, I might be compelled to go to a meeting or a job talk or something).  I've thought about putting one of those "out of the office" auto-replies on my work email...but I'd rather those auto-replies didn't go to people like my colleagues or university presses and the like.  If they could be directed specifically to students wanting things, that would be awesome.

This post is getting long...but I guess I'm wondering, esp. from you academic readers out there, how you've handled situations like this.  I'd really like to be with Tiny Boy, and LG too, during leave, not mentally elsewhere.  But can I do that without the guilt?

37 weeks

Full term.  Need I say more?

*

Oh, and for what it's worth, I am apparently incapable of following my own plan.  We went to Target this morning and just raked our front yard.  Then I came to my senses and decided the back yard doesn't exist.

Because My Mother Told Me to Change the Clocks Tonight

A couple weeks ago, I mentioned to A. that weekends are far more exhausting than weekdays.  To which she replied something like duh, you have LG at home.  True that.  Yes, even helpful 7-year-olds are exhausting when you're with them 24-7.

So I decided I couldn't handle another weekend of errand-running and cleaning and generally catering to the girl.  We went to her gymnastics class, came home, and lounged around watching movies and reading for the remainder of the day.  And as soon as she goes to bed, I'll be doing more of the same.

I was massively sleep deprived by the time I gave birth to LG.  I had major pregnancy insomnia for the bulk of it, literally didn't sleep for three nights before she was born (those include induction and delivery), and then came home from the hospital exhausted.  I'm hoping to avoid the same situation this time.

I've got--possibly?  probably?--four more days before Tiny Boy makes his appearance.  So instead of freaking out about the undone, I'm going to let the to do list go.  The house is generally clean.  Students have been dealt with.  Baby stuff is organized.  For the next four days, I'm going to hole up in bed with a good book and a stack of DVDs and sleep as much as humanly possible. 

Yeah....I'll let you know how that goes...

Update from the Land of High Risk Pregnancy (36w4d)

Well, the Boy still looks good.  Cooperated on the NST.  Dopplers and fluid level holding steady.

But you know you're headed for a bad day when you find an ultrasound annoying.  Just the general concept of having an ultrasound.  The transducer.  The goo.  The discomfort.  You know, it felt a whole lot like the millionth follicle check during an IVF cycle.

Then I met one of the other OBs in the practice.  There are 6; I think I've met 5.  Started crying during the whole repeat repeat c-section vs. VBAC discussion.  As she said, the issue isn't really c-section vs. VBAC but delivering a baby who's not growing well at the right time.  She's all for VBAC if I actually go into labor prior to whenever it's decided that he needs to be cut out.

So I came home, and I was crabby.  And went to the library and picked up a couple DVDs and books and set up shop in my bed.  And fretted some more.  I think it comes down to the fact that I'm a girl who likes a plan, and this wait-and-see is making me rather nutty.  I'm not wishing this pregnancy were over in that way that uncomfortable pregnant women whine about wanting it to be over, but I'm also, at this point, not really capable of enjoying the experience much either.  And, as I've said, that really makes me mad.  I like pregnancy as a general state of being; I find humor in its bodily awkwardnesses, I think that I look (and feel) good as a pregnant woman.  But I'm tired of the monitoring.  I'm tired of being "high risk."  I'm tired of living in uncertainty and anxiety.  I'm tired of being unproductive because I'm worried about The Boy and because I don't have a sense of how much time I actually have to work on a project.  I'd plan differently if I knew I had almost four weeks and not just one.  Or less than one.

So that's where I'm at.  All-in-all, incredibly grateful that I'm not where I was a year ago, in the land of not-pregnant.  But still...crabby.  And waiting.

Reason #502 That Seven Rocks

LG did the dishes tonight.  I asked her to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher, and she asked me if she could scrub the pots, too.  Ummm...yes, please.

Now if she would only put away the toys strewn all over her bedroom...

On High Risk Pregnancy, Preterm Delivery, VBAC, and the "S Word"

LG was delivered at 38w5d, which was the latest day my OB gave me in a week's window of possible induction dates.  Although neither LG nor I appeared to be in any immediate danger (at least at the time this choice was made...things did indeed get scary when I hit 38 weeks), the logic was (a) I was high risk, (b) I was on heparin, which is more easily managed in induction and (c) due to the aforementioned, there was an increased risk of stillbirth.  While I still resent that OB and the early/failed-induction-c-section that resulted from this proclamation, if I had to do it over I'm not sure I would have chosen differently.  It's really hard to have a doctor start talking about dead babies and not take it seriously, you know?

So, at my last OB visit, we had an eerily similar conversation, the major difference being this time I've got a baby who has the intrauterine equivalent of failure to thrive.  The question thus becomes at what point is he better off outside my body than inside.  And that's what people--and by people I mean friends and acquaintances who ask me about this situation--don't seem to get.  That is, because many people understand the problems caused by prematurity, they assume the closer to full term you get the better off the baby is.  When I say I've had steroids to mature his lungs, they assume it's because I'm at risk of preterm labor, not that my OB will decide to cut him out of my body prematurely because my body is failing him.

I am not, at this point (knock wood and all that hocus pocus), completely freaked out about the possibility of stillbirth; because I'm being monitored twice weekly, chances are really low that my doctor won't catch things going down hill.  But it is a real factor in my/her decision-making process; what I didn't know is that even in normal pregnancies (which I am certainly not having), rates of stillbirth go up once you hit 37 weeks (yes, precisely the time that risks associated with prematurity go down).  That said, I'm completely on board with a mandated c-section at 37ish weeks because I know she would only recommend that if she really believes he's better off in a crib than in my body.  And, honestly, I fully expect that will happen. 

But...if I get to 39 weeks, do I schedule the c-section or hold out for the possibility of VBAC?  Her preference, obviously, is the repeat c-section.  And while mine was VBAC, I'm not sure it makes a lot of sense anymore.  Even though the risks to me go up exponentially with a c-section, I can't see pushing my luck for what amounts to a few more days of intrauterine bonding for the possibility of VBAC and natural delivery.  Even Dr. Gorgeous advised me--before all this stuff went down--not to go much past 39 weeks.  Not worth the risk, she said, to either me or The Boy.  And I'm sure she wasn't really thinking about her DE live birth rate stats when she told me that!

When I asked LG when she thought her brother would be born, she said February 19.  When I said pick a date in November, she said November 10.  Which is, coincidentally, the date of my next growth ultrasound.  Personally, I think 11/11/11 might be a nice consolation prize for the low-risk pregnancy that wasn't.  Stay tuned...

Small Good Things (36w0d!)

1. We've made it to 36 weeks.  And unless something looks really bad on the monitors this week, I won't be delivered until at least 37.  Which is full term.  Which is fabulous.  My new goal is a 5 lb baby.
2. Last day at the local farmer's market.  We came home with a loaf of whole grain bread, cauliflower, corn (!), sweet peppers, apples, lettuce, kale and chard.  Now I just need to figure out how we'll eat all those veggies this week...
3. My mom visited.  And took care of many LG-related tasks, including a trip to the mall and two Halloween events, while I lay in bed and read.
4. My mom visited.  And M. came over, and between them they moved about half the furniture in the upstairs of my house and set up a crib.  Yes, people, I have a crib directly across from my bed.  And I am not completely freaked out.  I do, however, have a picture of IVF Kitten in the crib, which I might post later.
5. It seems my house is ready for Mr. Baby Man to arrive.  All I need to do is install the car seat (or go to the police station and have them wrangle with the car seat) and, as A has reminded me, that can just as easily be done by someone else while I'm in the hospital.  And you know, that's just how it might go down.  It seems the universe has granted me a little bit of time in which to finish a conference paper, lounge around, and gestate.
6. That whole tenure thing.  Feels anticlimactic after all the drama of last March, but, really, could not have come at a better time.  Talk about a big sigh of relief.  What a way to end my 39th year...

And One More Thing

My chair called this afternoon to say that the provost's office is recommending promotion and tenure.  Which doesn't make it official--there is that whole board of trustees rubber stamping thing--but let's just say I'll be putting in a sabbatical application.

I know I've said it before, but it really is astonishing how my tenure timeline and pregnancy timeline have gone hand-in-hand...

Now if only that small press would accept my book...

Update from the Land of High Risk Pregnancy (35w4d)

Well, the good news is I will *not* be having a baby today.  That means (a) I can go to a campus event tonight, (b) I can see LG in her Halloween costume, and (c) unless I go into labor spontaneously in the next two days, I will have made it to 36 weeks (yahoo!).

The other good news is that The Boy is still growing, albeit sl-o-w-ly (about 11 ounces in the past 2 weeks), bringing him to a slightly more respectable 4 lbs 8 oz.  But...that places him at exactly the 10th percentile, which is the official cutoff for IUGR and the point at which my doctor uses the word concerned.

So...it seems pretty likely I'll have a ~ 5 lb baby at 37 weeks.  Maybe it's time to get the crib out of the basement and pack a bag...

The Joys of Anti-Coagulation Therapy

I woke up about an hour ago for no apparent reason.

It just became apparent.

There's blood all over my t-shirt and bed (which really sucks, because I just changed my sheets, which requires LG these days).  Now, I know I had a bad injection tonight, and I also remember walking around with tiny specks of blood on my clothes during late pregnancy with LG, but, ummm, this strikes me as not good.

I think maybe I need to call the hematologist tomorrow.  Or maybe I'll see what happens if I make use of that neato invention called a bandaid.  Grrrr.

For Maddy: A 5-minute post

I find it annoying that people--pregnant people, say--assume that all pregnant people are unhappy in their pregnant state, have partners who are less than helpful, and want the experience over and done with as soon as possible;

I find it annoying that my OB's office, careful as they are, decided that a sleeping baby on an NST warranted another BPP, even though I'm scheduled for another ultrasound on Thursday; if they had kept me on the monitor for 10 more minutes, the kid would have woken up (okay, I'm not really annoyed by the extra monitoring--I'm glad they're being careful--but it does feel like I spend half my week at the doctor's office);

I am also really ready to be done with the injections (as soon as I am done with this I need to take Heparin Shot #1 since 2004);

but mostly I am angry that the blissful-I-finally-got-pregnant feeling I had with LG was stolen from me by my own damn body and anxiety; I've had what has been an easy pregnancy from a physical standpoint but, other than a few weeks during the second trimester, it's been emotionally crazy.  So much so, honestly, that as much as I'd like this little boy to stay in my body as long as he can, that I'm also ready for my doctor to say two days from now okay, time's up, let's schedule your c-section for this afternoon.  I want a do-over.  I want a pregnancy that doesn't start with low betas and a vanishing twin and small gestational sac syndrome and end up with IUGR.  I want my son to be healthy, without having to fight so fucking hard.

And that's about all I can say in 5 minutes. 

Go visit Maddy (Late for a Very Important Pregnancy).  Do your own 5 minute post.  Pass it on.

A Baby at Chez Gwinne (35w1d)

Last night A. gave me her tutorial on cloth diapering, as I am considering it for The Boy.  That in itself is not surprising.  But listening to a tutorial on cloth diapering is, I suppose, admitting that I actually think it's possible there will be a baby at my house who needs diapers, cloth or otherwise. 

The baby things are piling up around the house.  A cute little animal sheet from PBK.  Sleepers in newborn sizes (I didn't believe in them when LG was a baby, just started her in those 0-3 mo versions...but I'm guessing even if he's full term, which is unlikely, this guy won't weigh more than 5 lbs and change).  A car seat.  A swing that is actually in my living room, as it seemed to take too much energy to put it in the basement.

I'm not quite sure when this happened.  Maybe it's just at 35 weeks, with monitoring every 3-4 days, it seems unlikely that the bad thing will happen.  I mean, I know it does happen.  I've known people both IRL and online who have survived the bad thing.  But right now, I really don't want to acknowledge the possibility that it could happen to me.  I'd much rather talk to LG about how things are going to change when her brother is in a crib, instead of in my uterus.

So cloth diapers.  Really not sure.  Environmentally and economically, I'm all for it.  Practically?  Not so much.  Maybe I'll see what happens when this little one actually comes home.  I mean, he will come home, right?

1000

Yes, apparently this is my 1000th post.  I should say something smart, right?  Or at least interesting.  Perhaps a recap is in order.

I began Something Remarkable just over three years ago, when I was beginning the process of trying for Baby #2, which has turned out to be much longer and much more complicated than I could have imagined.  My daughter, who will be 8 in February, was conceived after a year of ttc, on my 10th IUI cycle, following a miscarriage and an APA diagnosis; I started trying for her at 29.  Perhaps that should have been the first clue that trying at 35 would not be smooth sailing.  I thought perhaps the universe would cut me some slack.

In October 2002, I had my first miscarriage.  It was a long, drawn-out affair, technically a blighted ovum (hate that term--prefer anembryonic pregnancy), but it took almost six weeks, methotrexate, and a D&C to get rid of it.  I was 11.5 weeks pregnant.  I started lactating a couple days later.  Happy 30th birthday.

In October 2008, I was a sparkly new fertility patient again, just undergoing unmedicated IUI #2.  I actually thought that might work.

In October 2009, I did IVF #1 (or IVF attempt #2, the real first was converted to an IUI).  Following the failed cycle, I ended up with a uterine lining of over 3 cm.  My RE stuck me on iron-supplemented birth control pills and told me to expect to bleed for the entire pill cycle.  I think that was the first time she mentioned donor egg as a possibility.

In October 2010, I had a consult out of state to discuss IVF #2 (or 4, depending on how one counts these things) vs. donor egg and started the crazy acupuncurist-inspired anti-inflammatory diet that almost starved me.  By December 2010, I'd made up my mind to do DE with my current RE, assuming I didn't conceive on my last IUI (or the one after that, you know, because it's hard to stop).

And, now, in October 2011, I find myself pregnant (via DE-DS) with a little boy who, so far, has seemed to overcome every horrid obstacle thrown his way.  An evil, life-sucking vanishing twin.  First trimester oligohydramnios and a gestational sac too small to hold him.  Threatened (or real?) IUGR and placental insufficiency.  By the end of October, he might actually be a person I can hold in my arms.

Throughout, this blog has introduced me to many fabulous people who've had stories similar to mine, or harder than mine, and really put mine in perspective.  I doubt I could have made the move to DE had I not had online friends like Sprogblogger, who made it seem not only doable but the best possible way of handling a very sucky situation.  I only hope that my story has helped someone else--perhaps even a quiet someone who never comments--as well.

So if you haven't introduced yourself, please do.  And if there are things you'd like me to chat about, dear readers, let me know.  Very soon I hope to be an academic single mama to two beautiful hard fought children.  And you know, despite all the tears and sleepless nights, I don't think I'd have it any other way.

The Gray Zone

It's been raining for a couple days now.  I like rain, but this is the kind of gloomy gray day that leaves me feeling melancholy and not wanting to do anything but stay in bed and read a novel.  Perhaps I should give myself permission to do that, but I feel guilty, as I am not technically on medical leave.

Gray seems to be the theme of the week.

In obstetric news:  The Boy passed his NST (he was a crazy man in there!), fluid level and dopplers still look good, and he actually doesn't have his legs over his head today (not that that last one is a big deal, but I was starting to wonder if he EVER moves his legs).  The OB I saw today said I'm in the gray zone.  No reason to deliver him today, but, yeah, go ahead and switch from Lovenox to old-fashioned heparin.  If he shows minimal growth next week, chances are he'll be delivered.  So basically I could end up with a c-section at any time...or a vaginal delivery around 40 weeks if he continues to grow, fluid and dopplers look fine, and I go into labor on my own.  I could have a baby who comes home with me from the hospital or who could stay a couple weeks in the NICU.  It all depends. 

I have to say, all this gray uncertainty is making me a bit crazy.

Good Boy!

LG's brother (aka The Boy, The Peanut, Mr. Baby Man, etc) decided to cooperate on his NST.  I had a 3:00 appointment and LG's bus comes at 4:08 (yes, I should be walking to the bus stop, not typing).  The MA gave me/him some grape juice and off he went; 30 minutes later, we were out the door with a see you back on Thursday! and a smile.   Yahoo!

34 weeks!

A. threatened to take away my computer and cut off my internet access.  Look up pictures of frank breech babies (yes, I know he isn't anymore, but he's still got his legs over his little head instead of in the "fetal position") or google "breech head" and you'll see why.  Oh, yes, the crazy is back.

Then again, I'm also having moments in which I think this just might work out.  And he just might be healthy.  And not deformed.  And even if he were born tomorrow, which he probably won't be, he'd likely still be bigger than I was at birth (last estimated weight was 3 lbs 11 oz), and he's had the benefits of steroid shots, which I did not, back in 1972.  And given that I'm being monitored twice weekly, the chance that my doctor misses something going awry is really small; from what I've gathered, a reactive NST seems to be a pretty decent guarantee that the baby will be okay at least for the next few days.  Placental insufficiency, be damned.

*

LG and I went back to BRU yesterday and got a crib mattress and mattress pad and all that kind of stuff.  And A. dropped off an old bouncy seat, which LG has been playing with, despite the fact that she loathed such contraptions as an infant (which is why I no longer have any baby containment apparatuses).  That is, I'm getting prepared for the (likely?) reality that there will be a baby at Chez Gwinne sometime in the next 2-6 weeks, and probably no later than 4.  Imagine that:  we might just have a baby before Thanksgiving and my 39th birthday.  And that will be something to celebrate, indeed.

Breastfeeding, Epigenetics, and the Diet

I can't remember how much I've said about my experiences breastfeeding LG.  To make a very long story somewhat shorter:  she started demonstrating symptoms of multiple food protein intolerance very early (like, possibly from birth but I was a clueless first time mom), had chronic diarrhea within her first few weeks, was on reflux meds by 9 weeks, diagnosed with blood in her stool at 4 months, and was put on nasty hypoallergenic formula (Neocate) at 7 mo.  I switched her to formula full time at 9-10 mo, because I was literally starving trying to feed her and despite cutting pretty much everything from my diet (including rice!) she was still symptomatic.  Bottom line:  it sucked.  Neocate was her major source of nutrition until age 2; was off soy until 5-ish and milk until, well, last summer.  If she's having problems (i.e. diarrhea and belly aches), I'm not hearing about them.  Yay!

Now I know some folks with babies like LG start elim diets in the last 6 weeks or so of subsequent pregnancies (the theory being it takes some time to eliminate potential allergens from breastmilk).  And, well, here I am, with 5-6 weeks max left on my timeclock.  The burning question (you HAVE to know where this is going, right?) is whether eliminating my highly allergic genes from the equation will mean The Boy will be just fine.  Or if the problem was uterine environment or some fundamental problem with my milk, well, not so much.  I'd rather not put the proverbial cart before the horse here, and I'm not sure how much evidence there is that me cutting out milk now would help, but I do want to be prepared.  And if I can, I'd like to spare both of us the agony of LG's first year.  (Of course, I did keep her please don't feed me, I have food allergies t-shirt just in case.)  I'll likely cut dairy once he's born because I feel better off it; but there's a difference between the 100% elim diet I'd do if he needs me to, and the 90%-I-still-take-cream-in-my-coffee version I do for myself (when, of course, I'm not appeasing a crazy accupuncturist!).

Even in the food allergy community, this is fringey stuff, so I'm not imagining many of you have experience or advice, but if you do, feel free to send it my way.  I'm really hoping I can make it a full year breastfeeding this little guy.  Losing that time with LG is just one of the many ways I feel gypped by my body's various reproductive failures...but with a DE baby, it seems to matter even more.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get LG some breakfast...

Dread

Two weeks ago, when I started down this IUGR path, I thought the earliest they'd make a decision about early delivery would be today.  He's been doing great on NSTs.  Fluid level was within normal limits, but lower than it had been last week. 

But on top of all my usual monitoring, I've got a growth ultrasound today.

I cleaned my kitchen.  I did the cat litter.  I straightened up the living room, just in case one of the random grown-ups on my emergency list needs to accompany LG into the house today.

I'm petrified.  I am not ready to not be pregnant.  I am not ready to have a baby in the NICU.  But I know if my OB suggests a c-section today, at 33w4d, there's a real risk of stillbirth if I don't do it.

Send us good wishes, please.  I'd really like to make it to at least 34 weeks.  36 would be even better.  Spontaneous labor and VBAC at 39-40 I'd be over the moon...


Update at 3:48:  No c-section today!  Although The Boy flunked his NST, he passed the BPP with 8/8.  And he's just slightly more off his growth curve (25th to 18th to 16th).  So barring funky fluid levels or doppler, I've got another two weeks.  Of course, now my OB is saying it might be worth delivering 37-38 weeks even if he's growing...because why rock the boat.  Golly...I think that's why I was induced at 38 weeks with LG.  Sigh.

But I'm still pregnant and no emergency calls will be made.  At least not today.

I Got My Groove Back

I've had two good writing days in a row.  I made an actual reading list for the year and picked up necessary things from the library.  I'm on top of nonsense with current and former students.  I'm making headway with the cook-and-freeze project.

So I fully expect that I'll be thwarted with a c-section later this week.

In the meantime, someone tell me why I haven't ever tried Tazo's decaf chai until now.  Cuz it is yummy.  And, what, about 1/5 the price of getting an actual latte at a coffee shop?  The Boy concurs; it's certainly rowdy time in my uterus.

Random Bullets Before I Make Some Soup

1. Still dealing with the inability-to-fall-back-to-sleep insomnia.  This morning I got up at 4:50, which is significantly better than 2:00, but still sucks.  I am not physically uncomfortable in bed, so all I can figure is it's anxiety.
2. The result is I'm taking care of work email before 7:00 am.  And frequently getting responses to things before 8:00.  It's a world of early risers, it seems (faculty people, not students).
3. Another night without crying at YFPP.  Yes, it helped that there were only three of us in class.
4. My weight gain has stalled out.  I'm trying not to make anything of this, as my weight has clearly gone up and down a bit due to (mostly unnoticeable) water retention.  But given that I was steadily putting on 1 lb/week starting at 4 weeks, and about half what I gain should be going to The Boy at this point, the fact that I seem to have either lost weight and/or not gained in the past two/three weeks is a bit concerning (to me, that is--no doctor would notice it, given that I'm weighed in clothes at the office).  And believe me, people, I'm eating a-plenty. 
5. Oh, yeah, Bitter Senior Colleague made a comment about my size yesterday.  And actually asked me if I thought that me being so underweight at the beginning of the pregnancy was the issue.  Uh...no...shall we talk acquired and autoimmune thrombophilia, please?
6. Since The Boy flipped over (yay!), I'm feeling him move much more frequently (yay!).  He can go for HOURS rolling around, poking me with what I think must be a knee (too small for a butt, too round for a foot).  It's quite a show.
7. Spending ~3-4 hours per week at the OB's office SUCKS.  Kinda feels like being a fertility patient all over again.  But I will do what I need to, obviously.
8. I got up the guts to email my chair about my raise, which was not what I expected.  At this point I am not angry but I do want to know if he came up with this number or the dean of the college.  I would really like it to be higher, but in this economic climate I'm grateful to have a raise.  And given that I'm (a) not doing fertility treatment this year, (b) got a hefty tax refund because I did fertility treatment last year, and (c) am not paying for daycare for either LG or The Boy, well, I should be able to put some money in the bank.  (No, please don't remind me about the roughly $2000 in car repairs and $600 in vet bills and the fact that we really should have a new roof put on our house...)
9. I am on leave.  I have been told I could give birth at any time.  I am still going to campus up to 4 days per week and dealing with a ton of student requests via email.  Does anyone see a problem with this?
10. Despite the insomnia, I did manage to get some decent writing done this morning, on a conference paper that I will not be able to deliver in person (it's an early November thing, which puts me at 37 weeks or with a preemie).

And now it's time to convert last night's "vegetable zucchini vegetable mixup" (a la LG) into veggie soup for the freezer and then head to campus for a meeting.  Sigh.

Recipe Recs, Please!

One of my if-I-don't-give-birth-this-week projects is cleaning out the freezer and restocking it with things that LG and I will actually eat.  But, truth be told, I suck at determining what foods will freeze (and defrost) well enough for us to want to eat.  Suggestions, wise readers?

Just to make this game harder:  I can't eat soy or its many derivatives, operate best at about 90% wheat-free, and will in all likelihood be off dairy again once I start breastfeeding (and if I only need to eliminate those three things, well, it will be a hell of a lot better than it was for LG's first 9 months!).  LG's a good eater who prefers meat products that don't appear to be meat products (chicken=bad, bacon=most excellent); at present kale is her favorite vegetable, and she eats a whole sweet pepper at lunch every day.  (Weird kid, yes, but I'm not complaining.)

And if one of you would invent a valium-type product that is safe to take during pregnancy I would really appreciate it.  This waking up at 2 or 3 or 4 really sucks.  Thank you.

On Reaching 33w0d

First off, I'm just grateful to still be pregnant.  When I was pregnant with LG, I worried a lot about preterm labor, and when I started having regular contractions at 32 weeks, I was pretty sure that was the end.  (Turns out I just have a really crabby uterus, but it knows how to keep babies inside.)  Now I'm just marking off twice-weekly doctor visits hoping I'm not told to show up at the hospital in 4 hours for a c-section. 

I also remember the 32-33 week era as the moment I switched gears and actually started putting together a nursery.  Some of that was my own paranoia.  The rest was that the semester had ended and it was a good time to switch gears from professor to mama-to-be.  I've definitely got something similar going on here, with the added pressure of the uncertain timeline.  (Last night I couldn't manage to find the bag-o-crib-parts and then noticed that the bottom of the crib seems to be warped, which might render it unsafe and therefore useless.  I'll see what happens when it's actually assembled before making that call.  Damn old house basement!)

Maybe it's 33 weeks, or maybe it's the boy flipping over, but I feel different (much more like the whiners from YFPP, if you must know).  I told LG I think today was our last walk to the farmer's market.  Lugging an extra ~28 pounds and a bag of corn and potatoes for almost a mile was just a bit much.  Then LG had a 3-hour playdate extraordinaire, which involved me baking 2 dozen cookies and making frosting, as well as watching the Ongoing Production of Annie As Translated by Two Seven-Year-Olds.  Now I'm tired and my feet hurt and really I'd like today to be over.  But at least we're going to a friend's house for dinner, so I don't have to cook.  I foresee a lot of take out in our future.

Then again, I'd also like to stock the freezer with wheat/soy/dairy free stuff that LG will eat for whenever this baby makes his grand appearance. 

I think that's pretty much where I'm at right now.  Tired.  Crabby.  Large.  Maybe I'll post a pic later...

On the Purchasing of Baby Stuff (32w6d)

When I talked to A. yesterday I told her I'd spent the morning at the scary place.  Of course she knew exactly what I meant:  Babies R Us.  Mostly I wanted to get a sense of what they had that I might need and whether or not it was worth my while to have things shipped via Amazon instead.  I did not need 15 sales clerks asking me if I needed any help while I perused the stroller aisle.  (Needless to say, I will not be capable of going to a local mom-2-mom sale held at a fairground)

What I came home with:  a new cover for our old boppy, one crib sheet (both organic), a package of baby washclothes/towels.  I know, I said I wasn't purchasing baby stuff, but it was just so cute.

The scariest thing of all was the sight of the preemie clothes (I say this as someone born at 33 weeks, who was dressed in infant clothes about 5 sizes too large).  But A told me that if/when he needs them, she will take LG and they will pick some things out.  Isn't she great?

What I decided:  I am only going back there to purchase a crib mattress and maybe I'll let someone else do that for me.  BRU really is scary.

*

I'm also fascinated by the way that consumer decisions are, in a way, parenting decisions and vice versa.  Like, for example, I'm not using LG's infant car seat because it's 8 years old, and you're not supposed to use those things after 5 years.  I mean, why not use a newer model, esp if I don't have to pay for it (BPF gave me one of the barely used ones from her twins)?  On the other hand, A. offered me a barely used crib mattress, and I've read myths about secondhand mattresses and SIDS, so that's off the table.  My lovely Pottery Barn (recalled) spindle crib?  Well, let's just say I'll make the phone call to see if I can get one of those adapter kits to make it non-dropsided, but in the end, if it passes inspection, I'm using the damn thing either way.

*

Trying to decide if I need/want a Pack n Play thing, which I did not have for LG, but we were living in a small apartment.  In a two story house, I probably want some place to stash and change the baby on the first floor.  For the year I changed LG's diapers in our house, we either went upstairs or I used a pad on the floor, but she was a toddler, not a newborn, and obviously she napped in her crib.  Not something I really need to buy new, but it might be handy.  What do you think?

I don't want to spend a ton of money on baby stuff, but I also feel like this kid is so wanted, and it's been eons since I bought baby things, and he's not even going to have his own bedroom (as LG keeps reminding me).  So shouldn't he have a little monogramed towel, like she did?  Even if that means I need to tell Pottery Barn what his name is, before I really believe I might have a healthy baby who can use a monogramed towel?

Sigh.  I was hoping at some point this would be more fun than it is terrifying.  Right now it's a pretty even mix.

Disconnected

First Blogger decided it would only let me leave certain people comments. 

Then Blogger decided it wouldn't let me leave comments at all.

Now I can't check my Yahoo mail.

But my internet connection is (obviously) fine.

And of course I can read all the school email I want.

WTF?

Small Good Things (32w4d)

1. The Boy passed his nonstress test, AFI and doppler check.  Repeat visit on Monday.  So it looks like I'll make it to at least 33 weeks... (When I asked her my OB said she was pretty sure he'd be delivered early...how early, she wouldn't venture a guess but said it's possible but unlikely I'll go all the way to 39 weeks.)
2. My OB said that bed rest is useless.  The Boy's going to do what he's going to do.  So I'll rest as I want to but not get crazy about it. 
3. Sometime yesterday I became aware that the Boy's head bulge wasn't jammed up in my right ribs but was somewhere closer to my side.  And then it seemed my belly had taken a different shape, and felt much heavier and there are movements in weird places from small baby parts.  Guess what?  Apparently he decided that ~3 months of being frank breech was enough, and he flipped over.  The ultrasound tech thinks he'll stay that way...but I'm not counting on it.
4. I took The Boy out for ice cream, because the university ice cream place has the BEST strawberry ice cream in the whole world, and it's suddenly 79 degrees again.  Seriously.
5. I had a productive morning, which makes up for the absolutely sluggish afternoon I've had.  But really how much can you accomplish when you're at the doctor's office for almost two hours?  Thankfully I have a fridge full of potential leftovers to feed LG, because I really don't feel like undertaking a large cooking project.

Sometimes it really is the small things that get you through the day, you know?

Sleep Is Good

After two nights of wicked insomnia--the kind that wakes you up around 2:00 am and then you're not quite sure if you ever fall back to sleep, or if you do, it's so late and skittery it's not restful at all--I slept last night for 9 hrs, much of it with Big Cat using my belly as a pillow.  I feel like I can actually accomplish something that takes brain power this morning (letters of rec, here I come!) before the Boy and I spend the afternoon getting tested.

LG woke up before the alarm this morning and decided to let me sleep.  Or, really, she decided to read Nancy Drew in her bed, and letting me sleep was an added bonus, but the effect was the same.  Ahh, sleep...

(p.s. I don't know about you, but Blogger hasn't been letting me leave comments this week.  If you've got the same thing going on and want to tell me something...or want me to spread the word about something, drop me a line at gwinne (at) yahoo (dot) com)

Just In Case I Deliver in the Next Week

I am, as they say, getting my ducks in a row.

It sort of feels like those days I have to scramble and cancel everything but the most critical because LG is home sick. 

In case you were wondering, here's what's made it to the top of the list:

1. Taking care of my will--online. [mostly done]
2. Reading submissions for a student program I run.
3. Writing three letters of rec.
4. Cleaning my desk.
5. Paying bills.
6. Making a (private) baby registry at Amazon.
7. Misc phone calls and emails, mostly of the setting up and cancelling appt's variety. [neverending, but caught up]

What will be ignored, unless I am granted a few more weeks, or have a sudden burst of energy:

1. My own writing deadlines.
2. All home repair projects.
3. Actual purchasing and/or setting up of baby stuff.

And I think this weekend will consist of playdates and/or "pajama and a movie day" for LG.  Because this leaving the comfort of my bed stuff?  Not so fun anymore.

*

In other news, things look more agreeable in terms of my chair's plan for me for next semester.  All the "service" work I'm supposed to can really be done from late March through the end of the semester, and I should be able to avoid daycare to do it (just need willing friends or babysitters to watch The Boy for a couple hrs here and there).  And he's still thinking I will be (knock wood) on a legitimate post-tenure sabbatical sometime next year as well, during which time I can finish this book project.  Final word on that should come in on or before Dec 15.  Don't you just love how the tenure clock and the bio clock coincide?  (Snort)

Update, Insomnia Edition (32w2d)

1. We--all lifeforms at Chez Gwinne--survived the weekend.  While you were wrong about me overdoing it on Friday, you should have warned me about the festivities that followed:  errands, applepicking, walks in the woods with friends...  Yes, settling down now...
2. The Boy passed his first of hopefully many NSTs.  I survived my betamethasone injection, which, if you want to know, sucks as much as PIO.  And I have to go back tomorrow for round #2, as I refuse to do an IM injection in my thigh, and there's no way for me to reach my own ass with my left hand anymore (ahem).  I've been warned that my thursday appointments (NST, ultrasound, office visit) will take roughly 2 hours.  At least there's not the 2 hrs in the car anymore...
3. Big Cat, who had another "episode" just before my NST, passed her cardio evaluation.  That is, while cardiac problems do exist, they have largely been ruled out as the cause for whatever is going on.  So, potentially more testing of other bodily systems...  As my other two cats died in such a way that there was no possibility to intervene, it would be great to treat whatever is going on with Big Cat...but at what (literal) cost?  Philosophical vs. financial quandary about the value of animal companions.  Subject for another time, I suppose.
4. Despite everything, I did not have a massive freakout episode in YFPP.  The pregnant masses seemed less whiny, and I just said I was sore from a steroid injection and left it at that.  Did tell the teacher I might not be back, depending on how all this falls out...
5. I have a meeting with my department chair tomorrow (well, I suppose today at this point) that I am absolutely dreading.  Subjects include:  crap with student organization, my "maternity" leave, and, inevitably, the tenure drama.  I think I will need to stop at the neighbors' teahouse and get me some of that anti-stress tea, minus the chamomile...

To Do List Triage

M, whom you may recall drove me to transfer back in March, showed up last night in her pj's as I was putting LG to bed.  We sat on my porch and we both cried, and she said do you remember when Dr. G told you to eat all those avocadoes?

She's volunteered her services to clean my house, assemble a crib, and generally do what needs doing.  She brought me banana bread and her company and really, it turns out that's exactly what I needed last night.
One thing I know for sure:  I have good friends, online and off.

I feel like everything I wanted to get done before my due date needs to be done now because I'm operating on borrowed time.  I need to figure what to prioritize, and what my plans are if I show up to any OB appointment only to be told I'm being delivered that day.  Basic stuff, like who will pick up LG from school and feed the cats and all that.  And I wonder if I should go ahead and take that trip to Babies R Us and pick up the odds and ends that I'll need, assuming I get to keep this baby, because if he is born early, I'm certainly not going to want to be running errands when I need to be recovering from major surgery and taking care of a baby in the NICU.

What I'm surprised by is that my OB hasn't put me on bedrest, which I know is often used when IUGR seems to be an issue (the theory being that it improves blood flow to the placenta/uterus and therefore nutrition/oxygen to the baby).  I think my plan is probably to do the kind of modified activity Dr. G had me on at the beginning of the pregnancy, for the same reason.  (On that note, does anyone know if something as obvious as me eating more could help fatten this little guy up?  I highly doubt it, but I thought I'd put it out there.)

And maybe when A. comes over tonight to appease our daughters with matzoh ball soup, she'll help me figure out what needs to be on my to do list at this point and what can potentially fall by the wayside.  Because I'm too overwhelmed to tell.

So here's my plan for today:

1. spend the remainder of the morning on writing-related tasks
2. go to my scheduled prenatal massage
3. pick up steroid injections from the hospital
4. buy assorted groceries for matzoh ball fest 2011
5. cook and clean
6. make a to-do list for the next 1-8 weeks
7. hope nothing else unexpected happens today

And Now I Have a Real Reason to be Anxious

The Boy has officially fallen off his growth curve (down to 18th percentile, from 25th), mostly in his abdomen.  And if one does even a small amount of reading, it seems this is the major tip that the growth problem is related to uterine environment, not genetics (though my OB didn't put it in exactly those terms).

What this means:  I'm getting steroids (because I've missed intramuscular injections so much).  I'm starting NSTs twice weekly, with weekly checks of amniotic fluid level and a doppler ultrasound of umbilical cord, growth ultrasound in two weeks.  And I could be delivered by c-section any time. 

Oh, yeah, on top of everything, he's still frank breech.