The Team Effort Continues

We hosted the most recent support group get together in our puny apartment. Besides not being able to all fit at our table and therefore having to eat dinner off our knees by the television, it was a great visit. It just feels nice to see people healing—actually notice it—and see my own healing reflecting in them too. That first support group meeting in the hospital seems so long ago, yet at the same time if I really think about it I can picture every little detail. Everyone’s nervous, sad face, me (and others) bursting out crying when introducing myself, the kind nurses sharing their own stories and looking so beat that they have to continue running the meetings time after time…I wonder if these will always be with me?

Anyway, we stayed up way too late just chatting, eating (a lot), and eventually attempting to play some dirty game we had previously discussed. It wasn’t nearly as dirty or exciting as I imagined, unfortunately, but we did learn a thing or two about each other that may have otherwise never come out. It’s great to follow their stories (back to non-perverse ones), learn how they are coping and moving through the pain and memories, hear what their options are to bring home a baby. It ranges from adoption to a special diet to not being sure if trying again is the right thing to do. Each one is so devastating and interesting, awful and magical at the same time. How nice it would be to think that babies just happen?! One couple is moving to Chicago, and the burly, bearded, gambling-loving father started to cry when he said the hardest thing about going would be leaving the place where they had and said goodbye to their precious second son. SOB. But we’re in it together, and I always loved a team. 

The growth scan

Does Nugget look something like this?

Well, Nugget is growing on track. Maybe a little small, but not small enough for the doctor to freak me out and not enough to change anything I’m doing. I suppose I could eat more, even though I already feel like I eat every time I’m hungry and then some, but I suppose I don’t need to be making my own prenatal advice. Doc took a bunch of ultrasound measurements (and recorded it on DVD for us—how modern!) and came up with a 23 week 2 day “gestational age.” According to the first “dating” ultrasound, Nugget’s supposed to be 24 weeks old. So it’s not that big of a difference…but every little thing can make me wonder, especially this time around. Anyway, it was cool to check in again on the bones and organs and little profile growing in there.

Apparently, it has Hubby’s head shape, which is long and skinny rather than circular like most babies’. This made that measurement hard to get, and the doctor kind of laughed when Hubby asked “what does that mean?” “Well, it looks like one of you” said the doctor, giving Hubby’s head the once over and not feeding into Hub’s insecurity about his alien-head. Apparently Nugget is an active baby too, so that’s super. The wiggling made it so we didn’t see any private parts and therefore learn about them by accident. Of course we took home the DVD and watched it to see if we had any ideas. Which we don’t. I can’t even tell when we’re looking at a stomach or a placenta, let alone miniature genitalia, really. Doc said he “didn’t really look but has a good idea” so we can’t tell if we think that means there was a penis which is easy to spot, or a lack of penis which is also easy to spot. That’s okay because even if the suspense is difficult to manage it’s fun to have no clue! Everything looks good is really a good enough report. 

I had to...

I drank some wine. Man, I had to. Don’t judge me. Peeps drink all the time when they’re pregnant. I’m not saying I condone it, considering all the damn warnings against it, but I know plenty of kids who came out okay after enduring a daily margarita habit in utero. Again, I am way too scared to believe that’s okay, even if I’ve seen proof, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s been too long, and it was too tempting. I think maybe it could have been a little bit of a triumph too--daring to do something wrong on purpose! Just let me explain.

Hubby’s aunt is straight up French. We’re talking “oh la la” multiple times an hour, making potatoes gratin to the letter, so many kisses on either cheek, and well, just so French, from France. Her sister lives nearby, and Aunt is visiting over her son’s spring vacation. So of course we went to visit them, and of course they had bottles and bottles and bottles of wine. Normally this isn’t a problem in my I’m-a-good-pregnant-lady-even-better-than-last-time state because it’s not worth it to me to feel sad about it. But they started going off about the wine from their village. They weren’t pressuring anyone to have some, but how can anyone say no to that? Their own little village in the Pyrenees! I caved about ten minutes into the drink service. But it’s not like I had a whole glass to myself, as I wish I could have, I just had a sip of each of the white and the red. Unfortunately, it only made me sad I couldn’t have more. Hot dang, it was so good. I hope Nugget liked it. And maybe got a little bit of a buzz because I sure miss that part of drinking wine too. 

The [dreaded] shower

I’m supposed to be a glowing, basketball-bellied, excited mama to be. I’m supposed to be giddy and giggling and have ants in my pants about the unknown. I’m supposed to complain about how much weight I’m gaining, worrying about stretch marks and pooping on the delivery table (some baby magazine said that was the #1 concern of 64% of expectant mothers in one poll!) and oh, how annoying it is to be pregnant. I would say I’m about 50% those things and 50% completely different things. Being pregnant for 7 months and giving birth to a perfect little boy who just happened to not be alive will do that to you next time around I suppose. In fact, 50% might be pretty good, all things considered!

So, I may be wary, nervous, and feel at times like an absolute worry wort (wart?). I may have sad memories and awful predictions as compared to other lucky, naïve moms-to-be. I may get mad that I have to think this way. But one real kicker, really kicking me when I’m down, is: the baby shower. The dreaded shower. Really. Oy. What could be more awful than sitting around with a bunch of ladies, drinking tea, eating decadent snacks, having people fawn all over you, and opening baby presents?

 If it doesn’t sound that bad it’s because it’s not. I mean, people love showers. Especially the people who throw them. So I feel terrible warning people they better not try to throw me a shower—or else. Capital ELSE. I couldn’t take it. I can hardly stand it anyway, being anti-social and uncomfortable in groups, but celebrating something I don’t even have yet seems to be asking for a big slap in the face. And what if I have to pack those presents away because Baby#2 can’t use ‘em? What if I have all these cute photos from the shower and I just end up wanting to rip them to shreds to erase the memories? It’s so totally unfair that this is my point of view, but it is. Alas. I can’t do it. I will have to eat bonbons and buy things by myself. The real pain though is that I feel guilty. People want to throw me a party. They want to buy presents. They want to be a part of this difficult time in my life. Those are not bad things. And I have to push them away and say no. It’s terrible. But this Average Josephine is bucking tradition for the sake of her sanity. You can send me a present later, ok?

Oh, shopping

 Girls are supposed to love shopping, right? Well, for me, especially now, not so much. But online shopping—or at least online window shopping (what’s that called?)—has become a wonderful tool in my “subsequent” pregnancy.  If I get excited about looking for something, I can just do it. I mean, that’s the whole point of online shopping anyway, but for most people it’s the simple convenience factor of remaining on the couch that’s the draw, not the fear factor that’s the repellent (I suppose for some people it’s both). I can shop for baby and mama stuff without having to see smiley, happy, oblivious pregnant people everywhere I go who remind me what it should feel like and how sad it is I can’t feel that way.  Or I can at least online “shop” without buying anything so when I do go into a store I know exactly what I want and I can get out of there ASAP (for the same aforementioned reasons).

Now, we’re pretty conservative in what we think is important to have before Nugget comes (we don’t have any money anyway), but I still want to try to be a normal pregnant lady and have a little fun spending cash and dreaming about cute little clothes and fun , frivolous nursery decorations. The Internet is where I get to be that lady. I’ve braved myself into a few stores, but mostly at curious times of day when they’re not busy and I have errands to run so I can’t stay long regardless of what I find. You don’t have to be brave to type in some web address and look around! Actually buying stuff has become a little easier as time passes…but I’m still holding off on the big purchases. I just can’t do it yet. Sometimes I feel lucky we hadn’t done much shopping for Wyatt—there wasn’t too much stuff to seal away in the attic. But sometimes that makes me sad because he don’t have much we can call “his” and therefore hand-me-down to whatever little creature comes out. So mostly I’m just in a non-buying limbo, thinking about fun stuff we can get ready at some undetermined time in the future. At least it’s good for the bank account!

ps. this is only a dream image of Average

Josephine braving the world of cute onesies 

and other fun, unnecessary things

oh, just more complaining

Have you ever had a bloody nose that just won’t quit? I’m not talking clots and clumps, getting knocked in the face with a basketball, picking some dry, uncomfy flakes only to unleash a torrent, or otherwise knowing the purpose of the nosebleed and thusly that it has an end-point. I’m talking about a steady, thin drippy kind of nosebleed that comes and goes randomly and seems like it’s just not going to stop because where did it come from anyway?  Yeah, well I’ve been having the latter style for well over week now. It’s not exactly ruining the laundry schedule or keeping me from work, but dang it’s annoying. And because this didn’t happen to me in my last pregnancy, I’m still caught off guard every time. (Google images has some weird "nosebleed" stuff: see image on right). 

www.babycenter.com notes that pregnancy brings on expanded blood vessels, more blood, and a greater bodily use of water which equals dehydration and dry noses/membranes.  All these lovely things mean we knocked-up are more likely to get nosebleeds. Luckily they’re manageable, but I’ve just barely avoided dripping on some important stuff (the chair, the computer, my white sweater) quite a few times now. The shower seems to really get things going, so I sometimes have to stand there and wait it out if I don’t want to ruin my towel. What a pain. But again, this baby things’ working if I have so many complaints, so really, I’m not complaining. 

Hello, Klutz

Jesus H, who is this klutzy person taking over my body? Of all Gardner’s intelligences, I am definitely in the “bodily-kinesthetic” genius category, meaning I am über-coordinated and especially dexterous—if I do say so myself. I may not have exceptional “mathematical-spatial” skills (who needs those?) or understand people because I’m so “interpersonally” intelligent (ick, people), but ask me to pick up a random sport or make a craft and I’m your gal. Until now. I’m not sure I can count how many times I have spilled my morning latte this week alone (and there are only 7 lattes in a week, come on!) and I know my feet don’t normally get in the way this much. What is going on?

www.pregnancy.org claims that pregnancy-induced-clumsiness (PIC) is a real phenomenon. This website has got to be kidding me. Except, maybe I have PIC? So I read some more. The combination of relaxin, that pesky hormone loosening my hips (and unfortunately other joints), a shift in my center of gravity, and apparent “psychological stress” (which creates poor decision making and short-term memory loss) stir up nicely to create PIC. I’m not ready to diagnose myself, as that would be admitting weakness, but if things don’t get better I’m afraid I will be a PIC believer and, therefore, sufferer. Maybe I should buy some sippy cups a bit early?

April Fool's!

We played a neat trick on our team today and I was afraid we wouldn’t get to pull it off. A couple of them were quite excited for the day of pranks so we knew it would have to be tricky. That’s why, at our game, we got the referees involved. Before each game, the girls have to pass a “stick check” that ensures their stick is legal; if it’s not they can adjust it, so it’s not actually that big a deal, it’s just annoying. We asked the refs to say they were all illegal (usually 0 or 1 stick is) and they thought it was the best idea ever. Because they are referees, none of the girls dared to question the decisions, even though they thought it was quite bizarre and unbelievable and watched them do the check which, of course, seemed legal as usual. About halfway through the team, the refs started laughing and had to spill the secret and it was ha-larious. The team thought it was a good one, although one girl is still mad about it. Ha!

April Fool’s Day got me thinking about other pranks, tricks, and superstitions. For example, I am looking at flights and had a panic attack when one of my options was Friday the 13^th. I promptly dismissed traveling that day, even though I first thought about how dumb that is (and it could potentially be the best flight and price). I guess I’m not going to take any chances this time around…why take the risk? I mean, some places won’t even have a 13^th floor because it’s apparently so bad for you. Go figure.