Archive for December, 2009

Seems we’ve reached kumquat stage… a milestone of sorts, 9 weeks!

I’m still at the parental home for the holidays, where the Impending Grandparentalism is seeping into my parents in pretty good ways. They’ve known as long as any of you, of course, but it’s different when I’m really here.

I tried to find a book for grandparents before I came, a version of celebration for under the tree, but everything I came across on my brief search seemed dumb. Anyway, Mom beat me to it. Who would have thought that a 2-ton compendium of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons would be the ideal prep for a Pending Grandpa? He’s rolling around laughing every evening, mimicking Calvin in the grocery store, Calvin freaking out at his dad’s disembodied hand, and insinuating that this is going to be fun and hilarious… and a handful. Hey, whatever it takes.

Meanwhile, I’m getting bona fide morning sickness. Dizzy weary sudden onsets of Extreme Hunger followed by Extreme Thirst, or vice versa, and seasick first thing in the morning. Apparently this is a good sign while my body is growing an extra internal organ to support the little alien. I asked my grandma how she did this eight times. She hasn’t the foggiest idea.


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I’ve been hanging around on some of the popular pregnancy discussion boards lately. It wrings the magic right out of things, I’m not sure why I go there. I get sucked in while trying to fill in the gaps, unsettled that another woman will ponder whether she can eat honey for another worried minute if I don’t dive in and reassure her that my midwife says it’s okay.

Yes, I have a midwife! I’ve been having scattered, distracted conversations with two of them, interspersed with hacking coughs (the Cold That Never Saw Robitussen hangs on) and finally scheduled an interview for this afternoon with the one I was enjoying a little more. Turns out she’s been practicing for over two decades, attended over 1000 births, and was called to do this via a Vision Quest in the desert. Yeah. They don’t come much purer.

She also carries two oxygen tanks with her to the births, is up on her neonatal resuscitation, engages in peer review, is state and nationally certified, and has performed only two episiotomies. Two. The list of her bad-assedness goes on. So she’s woo-woo + phd, and distinctively qualified to help me achieve my goal of Redirecting This Massive Intertia of Intellectualism that I gather is not going to even begin to know how to grok this Exceedingly Physical Endeavor. Not to mention the emotions.

Have I mentioned the sudden onslaughts of tears? And the physical changes. This is where I’m already beyond needing to be convinced that my intellect has nothing useful to offer. Stuffed with book knowledge, it’s nodding in agreement (while consulting the Mayo Clinic Guide) that, yes, “stimulated by increased production of estrogen and progesterone” there will be a few physical changes. But that doesn’t begin to scratch the emotional surface of this reality: I’m going through puberty again. These awkward questions of my basic shape were solved so long ago, I thought. A new old dialogue is going on, re-opened in a way I never would have suspected possible. But hey, this is what I’m signing up for… a transformation. And I am getting my alertness on for every moment of this one.

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the lentil flickers

I went into the fertility clinic this afternoon during a spell of hail, rare in these parts. Lying on the table waiting for the doctor’s infectious energy to disperse my anxiety, wondering what the ultrasound would say. I have a good feeling about this one, but that intuition pales in comparison with Actual Information and some was about to be leaked.

The doctor springs into the room and with a handshake, we begin. First, I have to point out my bladder, just to prove that I’ve been paying attention (yes, I recognize my organs on TV now). We move on to the uterine lining (progesterone doing its job – check), inspect the ovaries (are we drawing this out on purpose??) and indeed, the monstrous follicle that was hanging out there for a while has gone…

The uterus. A black circle of amniotic fluid. A yolk sack. And there in the middle, a little flickering thing. The heart beating… I’m astonished we can see it already, just 6 weeks along, or 4 if you count actual weeks like someone who uses a calendar. He measures everything, gets the little guy in his scope and the machine actually amplifies the heartbeat, humming away. I think it’s mine, I can hardly believe we can detect it at this stage. Wow. Actual Information is right.

Meanwhile, its little cohort (um… twins?) is on its way to being reabsorbed. It’s extremely tiny, just the footprint of an amniotic sac, nothing more. This apparently explains the high HCG number. Though I’m going to continue to ascribe it to Embryo #1’s brilliance and intestinal fortitude.

Onward to the OB and my H1N1 shot (all the doctors said yes, unequivocally) and a retinue of blood work on its way, endless options for tests. And in the back of my mind, weighing the options, I’ll be carving my way through for a balance of science and magic. This is going to be an astonishing ride.

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wing buds

I’m home sick today with a nasty cough I should have spared my coworkers from yesterday. Hopefully their immune systems aren’t taking a vacation, as mine apparently is.

Can I blame the pregnancy for my crying jag at work yesterday morning, or would that be the I’m Sick And Feeling Oh So Sorry For Myself weepiness? No idea. I’ve never been good at measuring symptoms, seems I can talk my way out of anything.

Today I’m wondering if my breasts are sore enough for me to even be pregnant. Being sick has drowned out the other symptoms effectively, since coughing is much more dramatic than a mild uterine twinge. The Handy Internet comes to the rescue and assures me that my breasts can do whatever they please. Wouldn’t be the first time they confounded my expectations.

Meanwhile, it seems the multi-celled organism is just miniscule. It’s no surprise I can’t feel that. It’s thinking about arms and legs, eyes and a tongue, apparently. So I thought maybe I was having morning sickness sort of nausea on Tuesday but again, it could have been the cold. Or my Extremely Powerful Psychosomatic Force Field. One or the other.

So I got my hands on an H1N1 injection, am scheduled for next Monday afternoon. I’ll be just starting my 7th week – usually they do it at 10 (vulnerable organ development period ends around then) – but it takes about a week to take effect and then I’m scheduled to be on a 6 hour flight across the country. I’m getting conflicting advice on this one. Should I do it?

Would you?

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