The Story

3/24/09 11:30am, 3 days late: Senor and I arrive at the Caioti Pizzeria in Studio City to order "The Salad", a salad reputed to induce labor. They have stacks of blank books filled with testimonies of women who drove long ways to partake of The Salad in hopes of getting their little ones out. We heard about it and decided there was nothing to lose. I left a note in the most recent book in hopes that I would soon have an update.

3/24/09 3:00pm, 3 days late: Doctor's appointment. A "fingertip" worth of dilation. We refused an offer to induce, but the doctor did strip my membrane (I didn't know that's what she did until later), which basically means she purposely irritated my cervix during the exam to stimulate the release of hormones in hopes of stirring something up.

3/24/09, 4:00pm, 3 days late: What the hell is that?!
3/24/09, 4:06pm, 3 days late: Woah, what the hell again!
3/24/06, 4:12pm, 3 days late: That's 3 in a row, six minutes apart. I decided to tell Senor. "Senor, I'm having contractions every 6 minutes. They're not that bad, but they are regular. I'm going to wait for a few more to go by to make sure, but I think this is it." Senor goes into high alert.

3/24/09, 5:00pm, 3 days late: I called the doctor's office. "I've had contractions every 6 minutes for the last hour." They said to head for the hospital.

3/24/09, 6:15pm, 3 days late: We arrive at the hospital, bags in hand. They put us in the Labor/Triage room to check my status and put me on the monitors. I was only 1cm dilated, so they decided to have me stay a couple of hours and check the progress at that point-- that's when the photo entitled "This isn't so bad" was taken. I was excited to get on with it and meet my baby. After about two hours on the monitors they decided it was okay for me to walk around. So we made laps of the hallway, stopping every few minutes to lean against a wall during contractions. Senor complimented me on how well I was handling it. In the end, however, they found that I was STILL only about 1cm dilated. As I was still tolerating the contractions well, and likely had many hours to go, they gave us the option to go home and wait it out or stay there a couple more hours-- understanding that they might still send me home at that time if progress hadn't been made-- and see how it goes. We opted to go home. That was at about 10pm.

3/25/09, 1:00am, 4 Days Late: After three hours of watching television, having sent Senor to bed (someone may as well get some sleep), my contractions were about 3 minutes apart and getting scary painful. I woke Senor up and off we went to the hospital again. It was a LONG car trip-- though it only lasted about 18 minutes. Back to the triage room. They still weren't ready to commit to admitting me, but I knew that I would NOT be going home again without a baby. Still only "almost 3cm" dilated, we continued to wait. I wasn't up for walking around anymore, but they did let me use the hot tub since my water hadn't broken yet. That helped me tolerate it for a while, but by 4am I had to give in. "Who do I have to talk to about getting medication?!" I didn't want to go through another contraction without knowing that relief was on the way. I am not a superhero, and at that point I was convinced that a person could, in fact, die from pain. If I had been trapped in an elevator or somewhere with no help, I am convinced that I would have gone toward the light-- that's the only way I can think to explain how badly it hurt... for me. Not everyone has this experience, and some, like my friend Ashley, get through the whole thing without making a peep and without any medication. I applaud that. I could not do it. I can't imagine anything hurting worse than what I felt. I was a banshee, and I felt bad for the other people in the hospital who were facing labor... if they weren't scared of it before, they were after hearing me. There was no cursing nor any hateful invectives for Senor, but the moaning was out of control. I was embarrassed.

3/25/09, 4:00am, 4 days late: They admitted me. Finally. We walked to my delivery room, I vomited on arrival, and they gave me the fast-acting narcotic pain killer. I was out. I was EFFED up! I felt as though I was in a shooting gallery, where everything was two-dimensional and streaming past on conveyor belts. At least that was fun.

3/25/09, 7:00am, 4 days late: The narcotics wore off and I was given the epidural by an anesthesiologist wearing a Redondo Beach Superbowl 10k 2009 race t-shirt... a race that Senor and I might have run if not for being all pregnant. That made me like the man... that and the large needle full of drugs that he had to offer. Epidurals are difficult to explain. I can only say this: It felt like someone was tapping on my soul, and I knew that no one belonged in there. But it wasn't more painful than merely uncomfortable. I settled in to wait out the dilating. My mom showed up to help entertain and support us. Senor looked exhausted. He hadn't even had the tripped out drugged up sleep that I'd had. He'd been up all night just worrying. Poor guy.

Then the vomiting resumed. Every time I vomited, Zuul's heart rate dropped, then slowly returned to normal. As the day wore on, though, the vomiting continued, and Zuul stopped recovering so well. By 2 or so in the afternoon, the nurses brought me a phone; it was my doctor. She recommended a c-section. Something is distressing this baby, and they are afraid that if it can't tolerate the vomiting, which mimics the physics of pushing, then the baby most likely won't tolerate pushing very well at all... plus I was still only just over 6cm dilated and the remaining 4cm could take hours and hours. She suggested I discuss it with my husband, but she thought the c-section was the best option we had.

I cried, but Senor and I decided that a c-section would be best. Before we could even inform the nurses of our decision, another bout of vomiting caused Zuul's heart rate to drop so low and stay so low that an alarm on the monitor started to sound. A flood of nurses came in. "We're doing a c-section. Sign this paper. Your doctor is on the way. She will meet us in the operating room." And we were off.

2:50-3:12pm. Though it seemed much faster... They wheeled me off. They pumped up my epidural to completely numb me. They moved me onto the operating table-- very difficult with your lower body turned off. They put up the blue tarp to block my view. The doctors and nurses were very hectic and short with each other. They were in a hurry that started to scare me. "Can you feel that?" they asked, as I felt poking on my belly. "Yes," I said. "If you are not numb in about two minutes, we are going to knock you out entirely." I panicked. I did not want to miss the birth of my child. About a minute later, someone asked, "Can you feel that?" I felt nothing. "No," I said. "Good, because we already started." A brave move, if you ask me. Senor was there, and it felt like about one minute went by... and then I heard, "It's a boy."

There was no crying right away. In fact it was about 30 seconds or so, I think, before he cried. His cord was wrapped twice around his neck very tightly. Every time I vomited (which I continued to do DURING the surgery-- I apologized to the doctors for messing up their operation), it was pushing my little boy down, which was essentially hanging him by his neck. We had an answer.

But then I heard the cries. The most beautiful sound I ever heard. They were higher-pitched and more squeaky than I expected, but it meant he was breathing. I knew we'd be okay. "It's a boy! It's a boy! It's a boy!" I kept shouting. We told them his name, they cleaned him up, and they laid him on my chest. I had a son. I tried to study him, but he was so close to my face that I couldn't really see him very well. He looked at me, though, and he seemed curious and concerned. But he was calm.

After a few minutes, they took Senor and Elliott off to the nursery to make sure everything was okay, and they sewed me up and took me to the recovery room. My mom and dad were there as well as my brother and his fiance. I was really happy, though totally out of it, and I didn't worry too much about the passage of time without seeing my baby. I thought before it all started that I would care if other people got to spend a bunch of time with him before I did, but in the end it wasn't that important. His daddy was with him, and my family was with me, and I knew he'd be brought to me soon.

And then he was. My Elliott. Our Elliott.




So maybe we'll use our birth plan on Baby #2... 'cause NOT ONE thing on it happened.

What can you do?

Holy. Giant. Child. Batman.

100th percentile in height?!

Damn, Son!

(Don't tell the other moms, but I've actually been knitting a bit. I'm sure there's some kind of mothering thing I should have been doing instead, but it was calling to me. Don't panic, the baby was sleeping soundly, not-- say-- drowning alone in a bathtub or aspirating his own spit up.)

New Wive's Tale

Hair dye applied during pregnancy can mutate genetics.*

Is this or is this not a red-headed child?




If you click on this photo and make it bigger, you can REALLY see the red. I know it may not last, but I love that it is there now... it means there's a chance!

Oh yeah, Elliott's umbilicial cord stump fell off today!! Yahoo!!!!!


*I am not a medical professional, please do not actually attempt this on your own child. I have performed no studies, and this may just be a coincidence... or is it? ;)

As Though Breast Pumps Aren't Humiliating Enough...

The ultimate insult: Pumping milk and then dropping the bag on the floor. 10 minutes of pumping yourself like a dairy cow and half of it gone in half a second. I hope Elliott sleeps a bit extra to give me time to remake that half ounce...

A few more photos

I have written some of the story, but it turns out it's a long story... I'll try to get it up here soon. In the meantime, a few more photos for you.

This photo is optimistically entitled "This isn't so bad". That was only after about 3 hours of labor. I was yet to be sent home from (and return to) the hospital that same night. What the hell did I know?


After 23 hours of labor, here's how we finally got to meet our son. I don't seem too concerned that someone is on the other side of that curtain sewing me up... I remember I just kept shouting, "It's a boy! It's a boy!! It's a boy!!!" And at some point I heard some suspicious extended buzzing and I asked them, "Am I crashing?" It didn't matter that I could still hear my own heartbeat on the monitor at the time... that's because I was on drugs!


Mommy's little Buddah. He must have been in lotus position for the past 9 months, 'cause it comes really naturally now!


Here he is, 4 days old. They change so much in the first few days, don't they?

One week old and he's already bored of us...

Just a little appetizer...

Here's our little love. Lookin' at you!

This was minutes after being wrestled from mommy's tummy and the two-handed death grip of his umbilical cord (full story to follow one of these days). He doesn't look too worse for the wear.

Sometimes I'm pretty sure he knows what I'm thinking...

It's a Boy!

We are pleased to announce the arrival of our baby boy!

Elliott Montgomery Strong
He was born at 3:12 p.m. on March 25th, 2009.
He weighs 8 lbs 4 oz and measures 20.5 inches long.

He is healthy and strong, and we are all doing well. We couldn't be happier or more excited to start the next phase of our life as a family of three.

We will post photos as soon as we get a chance.

Thank you all for your love and support!
Yours,
Patrick, Natalie and Elliott.

T plus 2

No baby. Next appointment tomorrow.

"Role Models" is a funny movie.

T plus 1

Two contractions in as many days does not a birth story make.

I can't wait to be bendy again. I miss twisting (not the dance). I miss being able to reach my feet. I miss being able to scratch the back of my own leg. I miss being able to eat over a plate without setting the plate on my decolletage. I miss NOT finding crumbs in my cleavage (seriously). I miss sleeping beside Senor instead of beside a body pillow.

We'll keep you posted. When there's something to post...

(I had to edit the title of this post... why did I think that I was two days overdue?)

Things to do when not having a baby...

Sleep in
Drink Coffee
Listen to iTunes
Eat Grape Nuts
Cross Stitch
Watch 40 Year Old Virgin
Watch Godfather
Fold Laundry
Lie on your Right Side
Lie on your Left Side
Put your feet up to reduce swelling
Check e-mail
Write Blog Post...

Saturday, Shmaturday

I'm due tomorrow. As of today, not one teeny tiny sign that anything is happening any time soon. After my exam, the doctor even asked if I have ever "had anything done" to my cervix, I guess she meant something that would make it extra durable and resistant to dilation? I don't know what that would be, but the answer is no.

I guess the spicy lamb masala I had for dinner last night didn't work. At least it didn't give me heartburn.

It's gonna be a long weekend!

Alive Woman Walking

Life is full of potential surprises. The possibility of life-changing events always exists, and each may change your life for the better or for the worse. At any moment a plane could crash through my work window and obliterate me and everything I know. At any moment I could get a phone call delivering wonderful news of some kind. At any moment I could lose someone I love, or someone I love could be creating a brand new life and having fun doing it. Anything can happen, and if you think about it too much, it can truly mess with your mind. We are all walking along our paths toward good and bad and undeniably toward our own deaths, but along the way, we can invite opportunities for the good or the bad that may happen to us.

Senor and I sent out an invitation about 9 months ago, give or take an eternity, and today we walk our path toward our good thing. It will happen. Today, or in two days, or three to be a birthday gift to Auntie NaiveHelga, or in 6 days to be a 60th birthday gift to a new Grandpa, or in 9 to be a relief to a pair of weary dreamers.

Walking this walk is invigorating. Any moment my life could change, even before I reach the end of this sentence. Or the next sentence. Or the next one. Shoot, that's not working. Well anyway, the excitement is undeniable. When will it start? When will the first contraction be? When will I find myself unreasonably stoked to be wearing wet underpants? Which everyday mundane thing will be interrupted by the start of our good thing? When will we all have this baby? It does feel like we are all involved, doesn't it?

It's like walking a green mile toward the beginning of my life.

3 more

Three more days... before I add 7 and start counting down to my induction. I think this baby is not going anywhere on it's own. And really, who could blame it? If you were getting all the ice cream you want, if you never had to be cold, if you didn't have anything to do all day but stretch and sleep and hiccup lazily, would you risk losing all of that and head out for parts unknown? I wouldn't. I'd stay right where I was, too. Smart baby.

The longer I wait, the more difficult it is to believe that this is really going to happen. I'm starting to get complacent with the status quo (you know, except for the mind-numbing impatience and the 40 trips to the potty a day). I'm starting to notice the things I'll be missing afterward... like it just being me and Senor. I will definitely miss that when our new friend arrives. Like just getting out of the car and walking into the apartment. That's out, for sure. Like going to work without tearing my heart out over the little buddy I have to leave behind. Like ONLY having to get up to go to the bathroom.

Life is good. Perhaps I should stop counting down and start enjoying these last few days...

Aahh, who am I kidding? Come out, come out, wherever you are!

I hope they are right!

Ultrasound today. 5 days to go. The estimated weight of the baby is 7 lbs. I hope they are right, or at least close. A reasonably petite baby that's neither so big nor so small that we need to worry-- sounds perfect! Which of course it will be.

Also, I have to report that, at least for now, Zuul appears to have my nose. It was going to have a "striking" nose either way, and it still could have both of our noses (bulb and bump), but for now, it appears to take after the Williams side (bulb). For better or worse.

Striking noses make for sturdy personalities, I think. So I can't complain. And if it's SO bad, it CAN be fixed later, should Zuul wish. ;)

I got Nuthin.

Sorry I slacked.

There's no baby yet.

Anyone else going absolutely INSANE?!

Let's Play

You fill in the blanks regarding my state as a pregnant woman and our state as an expectant couple. You can either try to go for the real answer or go for comedic effect. There are no physical prizes, but I will give credit to the person with the most correct answers and the person that entertained me the most.

1. Senora says she produces more _____________ than ever before in her life.

2. Every day Senora apologizes to Senor for ___________________________.

3. She knows she shouldn't do it, but nearly every night, Senora spends at least a little bit of time ____________________.

4. Senora says she _______________s everything she touches.

5. Senora recently called her unborn child ____________ because it moves around so much.

6. Senora ______________s as a result of being pregnant. She's embarrassed, but Senor thinks it's cute.

7. Senora most closely relates this song with delivering her child:________________.

8. Senor sings the following song to the baby most often: ______________________.

9. Senora cried when she rearranged her _________________.

10. If the baby is a boy, he will be named _______________; if the baby is a girl, she will be named ___________________.

A Softer Side of Senora

Okay. I admit it. I've been scary lately. It's only part of the story, of course. There is a soft underbelly (and overbelly, and everywherebelly) that I've been hiding away a bit mostly because I can't afford to cry every time I feel the urge. Which is pretty much all of the time. Crying in joy and disbelief are not, unfortunately, part of my job description here at the dental office, and I fear that if I cry at everything that touches me, I will scare Senor more than he already is.

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..."
I did it. Last night I packed for the hospital. That made me cry. I packed little clothes for a person who is not going on this trip with us but who is coming home with us. I packed clothes for a woman that I haven't met as well, I packed for Mommy, and she will be me... or I will be her, whichever way you look at it. And in most senses, we'll be very similar, but then who knows what amazing things she will know that I don't? And I'm supposed to pack a snack for this Daddy guy, but I haven't met him yet either. What will he want to eat while living by Mommy's hospital bed? Packing was a difficult and mysterious job, which I guess is why I put it off so long... and why it made me cry.

Ooh, I need to pack Daddy a change of clothes, too.

I'm starting to wonder how bright Zuul is. He or she is digging around in there, working hard at what seems to be trying to getting out, but I can't seem to make him or her understand that DOWN is the way to dig, not UP! You'll never get to China that way, kid! I think I was participating in some wishful thinking the other day when I said I thought the baby had dropped. Or if it did drop, it climbed back up... a rather impressive feat if you consider that it climbed up ass first... but not all that productive. Come on, Zuul, help a Mommy out!

I cast on a Shetland Triangle yesterday for working on during labor. It's a theory I have that the Shetland Triangle is the perfect labor knitting-- just complicated enough to keep me focused and interested, but not so difficult that I'll eff it up and end up more stressed out than I would be if I were JUST pushing a kid out of myself. The difficult part about preparing this project was having to stop. I find this pattern incredibly addictive, but I wanted to leave off while the rows are still short enough to have some sense of momentum. I'm using Hand Maiden Casbah in Dandelion. So soft! I'll let you know how the plan works out.

I think that's it for now. Was I less scary? Don't be afraid of me, I'm just going through some stuff and trying to share genuinely, even when it's ugly. But I'm still me, soft side and all.

Psych!

I missed a day... did you think that day 12 had turned suddenly into day 1?

I wish.

The longer I wait, the more neurotic I am getting.

I am aware that non-pregnant people are unable to say anything right to us pregnant types. They say we're getting so big, we hear "fat". They say we're still so small, we think they're minimizing how huge we feel. They say, "You're still here?" We think, "Well, Jeez, I'm not due for another 11 days! I'm not an invalid!" They say, "All my kids were at least 2 weeks late, so yours probably will be too," we think, "You unholy bitch!"

I know that everyone is just trying to be a part of the magic of the circle of life, and pregnant women are notoriously hyper-sensitive. But people have to realize that we can't say anything right, either. There is no answer that is correct to any of the questions we get asked day in and day out. I say that I'm excited to give birth, I get, "Just you wait until it starts." I say that I'm looking forward to not being pregnant anymore, I get, "Once you've had the baby, you'll wish you were still pregnant."

There must have been a day when I was just the right size, when I had just the right number of weeks to go, when I was glowing without faking it, but I think I failed to notice. And everyone has said all of the wrong things ever since.

So let's get on with it... So that we can start saying all of the wrong things to each other about parenting! ;)

(I'm going to go trade in this half-empty cup for one that's half-full. Of beer.)

Maternity Tour

Day 13. Today we took the maternity tour at the hospital. There are some places in there that I totally don't want to go. Come on, stretchy parts!!!

And I have to say that, having seen it all, this is definitely happening, it's happening soon, and there are little parts of me that wish I could somehow get out of it (see previously mentioned stretchy parts)...

It's just cold feet. I didn't get them before the wedding, so I guess I'm nearly 3 years overdue. ;)

Yay, babies!

Building a Relationship from a One Night Stand

It happens in movies and on television all the time-- Hello, Grey's Anatomy has made an entire series based on a series one night stands. Monica and Chandler ended up married after a one night stand, though they did know each other for a while before hand. Julia Roberts and Richard Gere did it at the Reg. Bev. Wil. Even Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl managed to make it work, against all odds.

Generally, though, I would say it's a "romantic" notion used in movies and t.v. to make us feel good about the foolish things we do. Most people I know who've done it when they shouldn't have don't end up in a white dress holding a delightful combination of in-season blooms. They end up frustrated that their McDreamy only calls them at 10pm to come over for some sex and uncomfortable chatter and wants nothing in the way of a relationship. Well, duh, have you heard of Pavlov and his dog? There's a reason my sister-in-law's dog knows how to ring a bell when it needs to go out and do it's business. It's not because it's a ninja, as originally suspected. It's because it's a dog, and it knows how to get what it wants and from whom-- Good dog, Wash.

(While it may seem like I am pinning the bad name on men here, I do realize that it goes the other way quite often. And I also acknowledge that the booty call phenomenon has A LOT to do with the fact that girls GO when called. If we didn't, they wouldn't.)

What I've never thought of until now, on day "14", is that motherhood is exactly this: Building a relationship from a one night stand. The kind of one night stand where no words are even exchanged before this stranger is all up in your business.

Women all over the world, every second of the day, even in the most modest of societies, are putting it all out there in the hope that a solid and loving relationship will develop from this incredibly shameless leap of faith. And the really challenging circumstance is this: It will be YEARS before we know whether it's going to work out or not. Will this baby grow up to be a good one or a bad seed? Will they love us and share their lives with us, or will they put us in a home as soon as we are old enough to collect Social Security? Will we put all of the right things into the relationship to make this stranger appreciate or at least put up with our music, our movies, our cooking, our stupid puns? Will they forgive our missteps and love us anyway, or will they run screaming from our presence as soon as they are old enough?

It's scary, isn't it?

I know I won't be thinking about this that first night when my son or daughter is looking up at me from my bosom, which I will have so willingly laid bare for him or her. I know I will be convinced that it's all going to work out... and most likely it will. I don't think I'll be the kind of mother that my children won't want at their weddings because I ruined their lives. I don't think Senor and I are carriers of the serial killer gene, though perhaps, in hindsight, a bit of extra genetic testing would have been good. And I'm pretty sure that Senor and I are demonstrative enough people to raise children who will know how much they are loved.

But it would be nice to be 100% sure of all of this before all the nudity and spread-eagling, wouldn't it?

Girls and boys, next time you're at a bar thinking, "I could go home with this hotty tonight," make a list of the things you are 100% sure of and think twice... 'cause a one night stand with an attractive stranger, whomever they may be, could result in another kind of one night stand 9 months later. And that stranger will be covered in goo, totally non-verbal, and completely clingy... and they won't go home after they shower.

And you'll love them anyway.

At least, that's the plan.



Just saying.

Nothing to Report

Day "15"

Just got back from my 38 week doctor's appointment, and after a rather uncomfortable exploration of Zuul's front porch (you can figure that out without my explanation, right?), there is no sign of his or her impending departure. The door is not cracked, it's not even unlocked. The porch light isn't on. Zuul is not yet even checking to make sure all of the essentials are on his/her person (keys, wallet, sunglasses, mail to drop off, check to deposit, knitting project in case there is waiting involved, you know the routine). Zuul is staying home for a few more days at least... most likely. Perhaps if it's a boy, we should name him Phil.*

That's why I've put the 15 in quotation marks. Because it's day 15 if there are 15, or it's day 1 if there is only 1, or it's day 22 if there are going to be up to 22. 22 is the maximum, though; one week past the due date, we induce. March 28th is the latest Zuul will be here. There will be a baby by the end of March. There will not be an April Fool's Day baby.

Still, it would be nice to know that Zuul is at least preparing to leave the house sometime soon. I'm ready to go. Purse on shoulder, shoes on, make-up on, hair done, tapping my foot on the sidewalk by the car, full tank of gas. Come on, Zuul, it's time to go!!



*You know, like the groundhog.

Why Natural Delivery?

Day 16- "Don't be a martyr."

Martyr: (noun)
1. a person who willingly suffers death rather than renounce his or her religion.
2. a person who is put to death or endures great suffering on behalf of any belief, principle, or cause: a martyr to the cause of social justice.
3. a person who undergoes severe or constant suffering: a martyr to severe headaches.
4. a person who seeks sympathy or attention by feigning or exaggerating pain, deprivation, etc.

There are many arguments for and against delivering a baby without drugs. I have heard them all, or I thought I had, until I finally heard the one last reason to get drugs that no one had yet brought up: to avoid martyrdom, the definition #4 type of martyrdom.

Um, what? I don't... what do you... um, what?

I will not be discussing any of the medical studies for or against epidurals. I will not be discussing any of the political or social issues relating to epidurals. You can read about them; they are everywhere. I am only going to discuss my reasons for wanting to try to go drug free and the one reason I never thought would enter into the equation-- and the one feeling toward a natural delivery that I never thought anyone could possibly have.

As stated, I would like to try going drug free for my delivery. Let me preface my reasons by stating the following: I have no moral objection to epidurals; I do not consider asking for an epidural a failure on any laboring mother's part; if I find that it no longer seems humane to continue my own labor without drugs, I will be asking for an epidural; there is a reason they were invented, and I do not judge those who choose to go that route.

With that said, here are my reasons to try to do without:
- It's a unique opportunity to challenge myself and see what I'm made of.
- It's a chance to use one of my favorite statements: "Look what I did!!!"
- Endorphins, they sound fun.
- Being able to move about during labor; pacing, rocking, walking, running for dear life? Preferable to laying in bed, if you ask me.
- Feeling like myself when I first meet my daughter or son.
- No catheter, nuff said.

When people ask me about it, I give them the above reasons, and they proceed to shoot them down with whichever corresponding counter-arguments they have prepared for me (I think that's why they ask, to tell me what they think, not to hear what I want). But yesterday I got this new interesting one: Don't be a martyr.

Now, I ask you, do you think there are actually women in the world who choose natural labor solely for the purpose of bitching about it later? If it hurts, I plan to say so, but only by way of explaining how proud I am of myself or how relieved I am that it's over, not to garner sympathy or place guilt on anyone. It would simply become part of my life story. "When I was 30, I accomplished this."

The weird thing is that I gave this woman the list of reasons that I listed for you above, I said it in a cheerful and enthusiastic manner, and I even prefaced it by saying that if I need an epidural I will ask for one... and she still warned me not to be a martyr. How did she get that impression of me and my intentions?

Drug free is not a cause for which I am sacrificing myself.

I don't ever plan to hold this temporary pain over my child's head in order to bend them to my will with their guilt. That's what the rest of the pregnancy was for-- Muah-hah-haaa...

I hope to revel in the experience, and I hope that I too will experience the "worst pain you'll ever forget" version of natural childbirth. Or I will learn my lesson. Or I will get an epidural. I won't be commissioning statues in my likeness or building shrines. This is just a part of life that I would like to experience.

I'd also like to experience punching that woman in the neck.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Day 17

Is it my imagination, or did the baby drop last night? It could be no more than wishful observing, but the belly does seem a bit lower and more tear drop shaped than it did yesterday. And there does seem to be a bit more pressure on my hip joints than there was... Could this be it? The beginning of the end?

Now, don't start waiting for your phone to ring yet, 'cause sometimes the baby drops weeks before labor starts, sometimes days. Sometimes it drops during labor. There's no way to know which case this baby will be until something else starts happening.

So what's next? Here's a list of possible signs that labor might be on it's way:
1. Loss of the mucus plug
2. Nausea
3. Diarrhea
4. Water Breaking
5. Contractions
6. Dilation
7. Effacement
8. Baby on the floorboard of your car.

I'll let you know if I experience any of these (possibly with the exception of #3. That I should keep to myself, I think), but until then, we just keep waiting...

*********

Knitters: Don't despair. There has been knitting. Unfortunately for the blog's purposes, it's secret gift knitting, which is why you have seen neither hide nor hair of it. I can tell you the following: It is a baby blanket. It involves five balls of yarn, and I have completed two of the five so far. It's recipient is not set to arrive on earth until August, so it may be a while before you see it. The reason I have started it now is to save myself time after Zuul gets here. I suspect I may be a bit distracted then. Plus my brother's wedding is in August, so the more work I can get done on said baby's gift now, the better.

In other craft news, I am also cross-stitching a birth announcement for Zuul's nursery. Yes, old-fashioned of me, but when I saw it at Michael's, I couldn't help myself. I knew that I would be remiss in my duties as the mother of this child if I did not make it one of these impossibly cute cross-stitches. I don't think every mother needs to make one at all, but me being me, it is my obligation or I will look back in anger at myself someday for not making one. This I CAN show you photos of, but first I must take some...

This Month

Holy Crap! This month I will become a parent (sweet Jeebus, I hope it's this month, otherwise I'll be 11 days past my sell-by date). Definitely there will be a baby in no more than 4 1/2 weeks... Can you get your brain around that? And if you can, can you explain it to me? 'Cause I just can't figure it all out!

I know what to do... in theory.

I have everything we'll need... almost.

I've done all the preparations... okay, not really, but the car seat is ready. We'll at least be able to get baby home. I figure that's a good starting point.

I can prevent choking and respiratory arrest... on dolls.

I can diaper and swaddle... a doll.

I can maintain serene relaxation through contractions... fake contractions.

I can achieve the correct latch for breastfeeding... with a doll.

I don't even like dolls, kids. I like them even less now that I had one staring up at me from my boob for two hours last night all plastic-eyed and polyester-lashed.

But what does all of this really mean? I suspect that in a few weeks I may tell you it all means this: Not much. But now I know, and knowing is half the battle, right G.I. Joe?

I bet G.I. Joe didn't have any kids. Not with that confusing smooth part he had in the front there. But he'd never let my kid spray paint a bike in a garage with all of the windows and doors closed, now would he? Perhaps that's all one really needs to be a good parent. Some good cartoons and common sense.

I'll go with that to get me through today, day 18.

Still here

Still carrying a bellyfull. The latest news is that the baby is head-down facing my right side. It has not dropped yet, but at this point, if things get started, we let them go. 22 days to go. Holy Moly!

Zuul is giving me quite an internal harassing on a daily basis. Last night Zuul's Uncle Taylor and Auntie Ashun got to see Zuul beat mommy from the inside. They were well impressed.

I am all puffed up in the feet and hands. Lovely!

My hip joints feel like they are getting wishboned. Super fun!

This is how nature makes the childbirth process seem like a welcome prospect.

Still here. Still holding on.

Hypothetical Question

Boys and male relatives, try to refrain from commenting...

What does it mean to "look like the breastfeeding type"?

Just another example of the weird things people say to you when you're pregnant.

Who wants to see some knitting?!

A new sock for Senor! He declared it the best thing I ever knit. Quite a compliment... except that it means that I might have to suck it up and admit that socks are better on size 1 needles than they are on 2s.

The pattern is Manly Socks by Hannah Six (Ravelry Link). They are free and tres legit! I love the way the first one turned out, and I'm already half way down the leg of the second.

The yarn is Malabrigo sock. Can I get an AMEN?! So silky, so soft, so subtle in it's color. This is colorway "Persia". Very manly!

SUCCESSFUL!!!


Me and Zuul 2/13/09-- 5 weeks to go!!

The 15

Senor presented me with this project from Facebook, and I enjoyed reading his answers so much that I decided to give it a go myself. I posted Senor's answers at the end of this post, if you are interested in getting to know him a little better (assuming you don't already).

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Think of 15 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world.

Please note that this is not necessarily a "15 All-Time Favorite Albums" list. Some of these would surely be on THAT list, but some would not (and I think you'll see why.) If you want to do a list of favorites, be my guest.

********************************
HERE ARE MY ANSWERS, in roughly autobiographical order:

1. 1988-- Milli Vanilli "All Or Nothing"-- My first boyfriend played "Girl You Know It's True" on the phone for me in 6th grade. I wonder where you are today, Bobby Wolfe... I went out and asked a friend who sang it. "Bobby Brown." So, officially, Bobby Brown's "Don't Be Cruel" was the first album (on cassette, of course) that I ever bought, only to find that "Girl You Know It's True" was not on it. My second cassette, then, was "All Or Nothing", I listened to it a lot. It was the first time music meant something, even though I didn't know what that something was.

2. 1988-- Paula Abdul "Forever Your Girl"-- Hey Baby! You gotta remember!! About the time of this album's release, I discovered that my friends liked music that I had never heard. I hadn't been paying attention. I'd been busy listening to Blue Oyster Cult, The Eagles, and Jethro Tull on my dad's stations. So I embraced "Forever Your Girl" with all the fervor a 10 year old can muster and insisted that the next time my friends demonstrated that they knew all the words to "Cold Hearted Snake", I would be able to sing along. I believe my discovery of this album also marked the first time I really understood that I wasn't quite fitting in.

3. 1990-- Gloria Estefan "Cuts Both Ways"-- My mom loved Gloria. We listened to it driving to and from my new school in 7th grade and beyond. It was the sound of mom's day to drive carpool. I was beginning to discover that love does, indeed, cut both ways.

4. Paul Simon "Graceland"-- It was released in 1986, but I remember it best as the soundtrack of road trips to Lake Havasu with my parents. This album was not in regular circulation, at least the way that I experienced it. It only came out when there was a long way to go. It was the sound of getting away at a time when I was just beginning to appreciate the great relief that comes with getting away and going back to things that have been the same since you were old enough to remember them. And while I haven't been to "The River" in about 15 years, I know that it's exactly the same as we left it, and I can see the expanse of desert stretching out before us every time I hear "Graceland".

5. "Top Gun", the soundtrack-- Another 1986 release (good year!) that didn't make it's way into my life until a bit later, due to adult themes, I suppose. It was really the "Top Gun Anthem" that brought me to this album by way of dance class. My teacher used the anthem every week during warm ups along with the instrumental piece from "Rain Man". My brother has called "Top Gun" the "Breakfast at Tiffany's" of our generation, and I guess that makes the "Top Gun Anthem" our generation's "Moon River"? Yeah, I'd say that's about right.

6. "Dirty Dancing", the soundtrack-- Again, I was too young for the 1987 release of this movie and soundtrack, but by '90 and '91 I was fully obsessed with both. It was the sound of longing. As a dancer and a preteen with no one to love, I was Baby, and I spent many summers wondering why real people don't have summer romances like that. I listened to this on my Walkman while my friends listened to whatever they listened to on their Walkman (We called this hanging out? Even less personal than e-mail, huh?), and we all dreamt that things would happen for us someday... once our acne went away, our hair decided whether it was going to be curly or straight, our boobs grew in, and we started looking good in cut-off jeans and tied up blouses... I never did have a summer romance as good as my romance with this album.

7. Tie: "Footloose" and "Flashdance", the soundtracks-- I came to these movies many years after the soundtracks had already made their places in my life. They played a role similar to "Dirty Dancing", except these two seemed to speak to my young wild side as opposed to my inner heartbroken sadsack. They inspired a level of rebellion that I have still never accomplished, but I can still dream.

8. "RENT", the soundtrack-- Freshman year of college. I didn't like it at first, but my theatre school classmates were OBSESSED to a level that I couldn't resist. I listened to it again, and it began to grow on me. And then it clicked. And I was obsessed, too, though not in all caps like the others. It counteracted the preppy, good girl thing I had going but was busy loathing about myself at that time. By sophomore year I was trying out a little bit of bad girlness (you wouldn't think so if you ever knew a true bad girl, but it was the best I could do), and I wasn't getting any closer to belonging in the Life Cafe. It eventually wore off, and the people who still loved it started to bug me the appropriate amount, but I cannot deny the power of the album that made even Me think that heroin, prostitution, and homelessness were bitchin'!

9. Ozomatli "Ozomatli"-- 1998-- Between my sophomore year at USC and my year in Englad was the summer I worked at Tower Records. I was a college student and sorority girl who spent every night until midnight with stoners and punks and rastas and homies and I loved every minute of it. I was in love with my manager, we were sneaking around, the security guy got pot poisoning from brownies that someone brought in, and I learned to rock it a little harder. Ozomatli came around every three hours or so, and it just made me want to jump. I brought it into a party one night because the party could have used a little more jump, and it got left behind. I have yet to replace it, but I always intend to... I will one day.

10. Frank Sinatra "The Very Best of Frank Sinatra"-- Released in 1997, this two-disc best-of album became a fixture in my life when I went to England to study abroad. I arrived in my dorm room, turned on a radiator for the first time, unpacked my one suit-case and loaded up my discman with the one thing I knew could make me feel at home: Frank. "A Foggy Day in Londontown" was the first song I listened to, and the on-the-noseness made me feel like I understood why I was there, even though now I know I didn't have a clue. Frank's voice filled up that concrete room in a way that no rock or pop could. It was unapologetically American in a way that I couldn't quite dare to be-- yet it was still unoffensive, which I was striving so hard to be. It set a tone for me. I just recently found the second disc, which I thought I had lost long ago, and though I don't listen to it much, I feel such relief that they are there safely in their box if I ever need them.

11. David Grey "White Ladder"-- I was introduced to David Grey by my last boyfriend before we broke up. It sounded as grown-up as he made me feel. It was sophisticated in a way that I wanted to be for him and with him. It filled many a long drive to his apartment and back. It filled many a long wait for him to drive to my apartment (my first apartment by myself!). And then we broke up, and I listened to it even more than ever. Sometimes it helped me recapture the feeling of having him there. Sometimes it expressed the hopelessness I felt without him. And sometimes, though rarely, it made me feel like I might someday have that again with someone. Turns out I did. With him. This album now sounds like sweet surrender, sweet relief, and sweet understanding. When I hear this album now, it sounds like the struggle and triumph that I used to hear in "Dirty Dancing" and "Footloose" and "Flashdance"-- except this time it was MY soundtrack and OUR story instead of someone else's. It's our happy ending because it was also our beginning.

12. White Stripes "White Blood Cells"-- Also brought to me by Senor. It was there alongside David Grey the whole way, only I used this album when I was bein' bad or mad. What's a 23 year old to do when she still lives at home but wants to have her first sleepover with a boy? Lie about a girl's night at Ashley's, of course. And then blast White Stripes the whole way to Senor's. Likewise, when we broke up, this album got blasted when I was mad at him or me or the injustice of it all. Unlike David Grey, though, this album didn't so much come out the other side. Once we got back together, the anger was gone, and then sneaking around was over, and the songs almost made me uncomfortable in the way they reminded me of all that. They got me through one of the most emotionally violent periods in my life, and I love them for it, but I don't like them now interrupting the peace. Well, maybe once in a while...

13. Dar Williams "The Honesty Room"-- Senor gave me this album for Valentine's Day, about 3 days after we got back together. I listened the hell out of this one. I would say it replaced "White Blood Cells". I felt like Dar had been through what I'd been through. It was a grown up and wise sound that perfectly captured the battle-scarred happiness that I was feeling at the time. This album helped soften me up after almost a year of defensiveness and anger. It brought me peace as I went through the sometimes rocky process of introducing my relationship back into the rest of my life.

14. Norah Jones "Come Away With Me"-- Norah filled up all the cracks between the other things I was listening to. This album was like a tranquilizer when my head was too busy; I could sing along and tune out the noise. It provided respite when I was tired of feeling so much. It was a palate cleanser between courses. I could be pretty and nice and regular with Norah when I was feeling anything but. I consider this a monumental triumph.

15. Fleetwood Mac "Rumors"-- I'm a grown-up now. I'm almost certain of it. And this album makes me feel like one. Senor and I listen to it on road trips and I know that I am safe and happy to be going where ever I'm going. This album is the soundtrack of the long journey we're on together, the one that continues on so far that it bends around the horizon and out of sight. This album will always be with us.

********************************
HERE ARE SENOR'S ANSWERS:

So, in rough autobiographical order:

1. The Bangles, "Different Light." What? Hardly a classic album; I don't even own a copy of this anymore. Here's the thing: when I was eleven years old, this was the first record I bought with my own money. I think that suggests that the phenomenon of marketing music based on the taste of pre-teens is not a new phenomenon.

2. Aerosmith, "Pump." If you were a fifteen-year-old American male in 1990, you owned two copies of this (one on CD, one on cassette.) I was OBSESSED with this record (and honestly, had a pretty strong affinity for hair metal in general...so much so that the phenomenon of Nirvana sailed right past me almost unnoticed. I got better.)

3. The Police, "Zenyatta Mondatta." And then came the Sting/Police obsession. As I shook off the after-effects of the hair metal party, my tastes in music got slightly more sophisticated, and I discovered the Police (five years after they broke up.) One of my favorite pastimes in those high school days was lying to my parents about my whereabouts and heading out onto the highways and byways of Michigan to explore, to get away, to feel free. On those trips, this was the tape I listened to most often.

4. The Replacements, "Tim." I can single out a few specific people in my life who have been pivotal in shaping my taste in music (and thereby my life in general.) One such person was this guy Brad who lived in my dorm my freshman year in college. Brad was from Minnesota, and was a 26-year-old sophomore who mostly wore t-shirts with holes in them. Brad introduced me to the concept of "college rock," which now allows me to converse comfortably with people who associate the early '80s more closely with getting vomitted on by Paul Westerberg than they do with getting up early on Saturdays to watch the Smurfs. "Tim" has become a sort of generational shorthand for me, one that says that I can be just as cynical as you. Probably more.

5. Jayhawks, "Tomorrow The Green Grass." This is the sound of a thousand lonely Arkansas nights. If I like Wilco and Ryan Adams today, it's because I liked the Jayhawks in 1996.

6. Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, "The Saint." Remember when electronica was supposed to take over the world? I think we all know how THAT went. Still, this was a very sexy CD for a very unsexy 22-year-old, and I listened to it at the beginning of many evenings that would end as they began: alone in my bedroom, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

6. Radiohead, "OK Computer." Much has been written about how this is the defining album of my generation, and who am I to disagree? In my life, it's been pretty rare that I would feel in step with the zeitgeist of my peers (alienated, but very definitely alive) and the release of "OK Computer" in 1997 (right around the time I graduated from college) was one of those times. It continues to be the one record to which I most relate on a personal level.)

7, 8 & 9: Beastie Boys, "Hello Nasty"; Velocity Girl, "Simpatico"; XTC, "Upsy Daisy Assortment." These three discs are forever linked together as the soundtrack of my two years in Richmond, Virginia. I was just out of college, working for a childrens' theatre company, and enjoying my first taste of REAL freedom (with its attendant responsibilities/irresponsibilities.) "Intergalactic" will ALWAYS sound like the sidewalk outside my rowhouse on West Main, or Shockoe Bottom on a Saturday night. "I Can't Stop Smiling" will ALWAYS sound like my apartment, where I would dance with joy at the end of a grueling leg of the tour, or like hauling ass up I-95 to see Huddo and Dave in Silver Spring. "Senses Working Overtime" will ALWAYS sound like driving around the south side, trying not to get shot at. Good times.

10. U2, "The Joshua Tree." It's really this simple: if you're taking a road trip with me, you can expect to hear this CD played in its entirety at least once. Leave it to an Irish band to make the best record ever about America. "Running To Stand Still" takes on a whole new meaning when you're moving from Virginia to California and your '86 Nova leaves you stranded in Oklahoma City for three days in the dead of winter.

11. Tie: Elvis Costello, "My Aim Is True," Bruce Springsteen, "Born To Run," Van Morrison, "Moondance," and Crowded House, "Woodface." I've known who these guys were since I was a kid, but before I moved to California and started listening to a now-defunct album oriented rock station called Channel 103.1, I didn't really know or understand their music. Now I do. To me, these four records are what turning into an adult sounds like.

12. David Gray, "White Ladder." Once upon a time, I fell in love with girl to this album. Then, after we broke up, I sat around broken-hearted to this album. Then, we reconciled and found out what true, lifelong love feels like...to this album. We've been married for almost three years, and if I had to single out one record as the soundtrack of our life together, it would be this one.

13. Fleetwood Mac, "Rumours." What can I say? My in-laws are Baby Boomers, and we need something to talk about. (Aw, who am I kidding? I love Lindsey Buckingham.)

14. The Weepies, "Hideaway." This disc is distilled happiness. Every song on it sounds like it was written for the enjoyment of an unborn child, which is rather convenient, seeing as how my wife and I are expecting our first next month. We play the first track, "Can't Go Back Now," to our in-utero kid via headphones all the time (you Obama fans will remember it as the "heartbeat" song from his campaign ads.) Seriously, if you have small children, go buy this CD immediately. Do not read on...

15. Pavement, "Slanted and Enchanted." I've never listened to this CD. Couldn't name one song from it. So, what the hell? Why is it on this list? Once upon a time, I could have said the same thing about "London Calling." Or "Automatic For The People." Or any of the discs I mentioned in #11. Now, they're all cherished favorites. As a music lover, I'm a late bloomer, and I'm still catching up on all the records I'm supposed to have fully absorbed by now. "Slanted and Enchanted" is one of those highly regarded albums that has just slipped past me all these years, and so, it earns a spot on the list as an emblem of what the future (by way of the past) may hold.

Senora's Shooting Gallery

There are many proverbs regarding the foolishness of making plans, my favorite being, "Life is what happens while you are making other plans," credited to whoever said it, whom I can't remember. A smart guy, though. (Did I get the whos and whoms correct there? I've lost track.)

It should come as no surprise that I have been making plans for life-after-baby, as any sane mother-to-be does, and as any sane mother-to-be should expect, I also expect most of my plans to get shot all to hell. Because soon baby will rule all, and Plan A will get superseded by Plan D (D for doo doo), and Plan B will then get replaced by Plan A, which still hasn't been done and which will then, again, get replaced by Plan D... at least, this is what I've come to understand from those who've been through it.

But shouldn't one at least have an idea what Plan A is? Otherwise Mommy just sits and waits for Plan D to go into effect, and that's no way to live a life.

So here's my plan for today, while I still have most of the control over which plans get made and then accomplished: Tell you the life-after-baby plans I've been making so that in a few months we can all look back and point and laugh at Senora together.


Air Rifles at the Ready, Drop Your Quarters, Here We Go!

Plan A: Make exercise a part of daily life. If everything else is going to change anyway, why not build in a healthy lifestyle for Mommy as well as baby? Arrange it so that there is no life with baby that doesn't include exercise.

(Pwoing!)

Plan B: Shower. It can't be as difficult as everyone makes it seem to fit in a shower. Organize shower schedule so that every second or (more likely) third day Senor can attend to baby while Mommy does a complete shower and blow dry of hair. In between days, showers are quick and dirty--- er, clean. "Wash the smelly bits," as I like to say. Hair stays relatively nice or at least presentable, making Mommy at least LOOK like everything is going okay. (Please note that Plan B may be seriously affected by effectiveness of Plan A due to the chemical reactions of sweat with naturally curly hair.)

(Pew! P-Pew!!)

Plan C: Get dressed. I can't imagine anyone ever felt like SuperMom while wearing her jammies for the third day in a row. Purchase classic pieces which combine a bit of visual interest with the necessary machine washability to aid in the process. Attempt to look sunny and effortless by putting in the extra effort. Make the other Mommies wonder how I do it.. all, of course, without blowing my budget.

...You should stop laughing before you shoot a gun, even if it is just an air rifle... (Pling!)

Plan D: Doo Doo. Can't avoid this one.

Plan E: Follow the guidelines given by books, classes, friends and relatives to a T (this is also plan T). Somehow get around the fact that these guidelines conflict universally and sometimes grossly. When in doubt, opt for the most paranoid-sounding guideline no matter what said friend or relative says. Times, they are a-changin'...

(Twang!)

Plan F: Fail gracefully and with a sense of humor. Realize that baby will end up messed up and demented to his or her own personal degree no matter how well Mommy does with plans and guidelines. Accept inherent faults and inevitable mistakes, do my best, and do not cry... at least not when any one's looking. Enjoy the journey and don't worry that I forgot Tummy Time today, neglected to save the umbilical cord stub, and accidentally used the word "stupid" in front of my child.

(Plonk-pling!)

Plan G: Knit. Mommy needs and deserves something for herself. Make beautiful things for baby and share art-quality photos of perfect child in perfect handknits on regularly updated blog.

(Sp-Tew!!!)


Awww, your quarters just ran out. How many did you shoot down?

Doing Duty

I got the summons.

I'm supposed to start calling in on the evening of the 8th of March to see if I need to appear for Jury Duty. For anyone not doing the math, that is 13 days before my due date. I registered but stated (by pushing 6 or whatever) that I have a medical excuse. Today I presented New Doctor with the form that she needs to sign to verify that I am pregnant and therefore can't serve.

"Why can't you go to jury duty two weeks before your due date?"
"Well, for the obvious reasons."
"If I were you, I'd go. They're just going to dismiss you, and then you get out of jury duty for another year."
"I hadn't thought of it that way..."
"Think about it until your appointment on Friday. There is a $25 charge for us to sign the form."

I left feeling uneasy.

Uneasy feeling #1: $25 to sign your name?!

Uneasy feeling #2: I already punched in that I have a medical excuse. How would I reverse that if I decided to show up anyway?

Uneasy feeling #3: It's in Compton. You've heard of Compton, right? I don't want to take my children, unborn or otherwise, to Compton. EVER.

Uneasy feeling #4-6: I have to pee every 25 minutes or so, and that's with 46 days to go. At 12, 11, 10 days to go, if I actually get called in to be questioned, are they going to let me out to pee? Are they going to appreciate my squirming, my pee-pee dance, my snacking, my putting my feet up on the railing of the jury box?

Uneasy feeling #7: How can I take another day or more off work when I'm about to take 6 weeks off work?

Uneasy feeling #8: If I do get called and then go into labor, what happens to me if I don't show up? Are they going to arrest me and my newborn? Fine us for contempt of court? Am I going to have to pay the doctor anyway to sign my excuse form after the fact?

Uneasy feeling #9: I am worrying about this, and I shouldn't be worrying about anything but assembling cribs, hanging cute curtains, and eating enough Omega-3 fatty acids.

It's worth putting up with uneasy feeling #1 to avoid all the others, right?

Not Suitable for Children

I traded in the old baby countdown widget for a more biologically detailed one. If you push play you can see the baby grow from WAY BACK WHEN it was the size of an unfathomably small single cell, past the booger-sized phase, through the produce aisle of the grocery store (grape, kumquat, kiwi, plum, apple, cantaloupe, etc), until it became the fully formed (though slightly anorexic looking) little bundle of humanity that it is today. And by "little" I mean increasingly uncomfortable, animatronically powered (I'm having a brief late pregnancy denial period), pointy-parted mommy torturer... sorry, Zuul, but you gotta face facts. Being filled with you is not as comfy as being filled with, say, a nice steak, a glass of Cabernet, and some premium ice cream.

But then again, I don't often dream of the joys of picking up my steak and comforting it when it cries... so there is an overall positive trade off.

I'm hoping that, as we get closer to the due date, this widget will give us all a little clearer, if more graphic, picture of what's going on than the other one did.

I do kinda miss the little cartoon baby, though...

Don't Worry, Little Girl!

I'm trained in plastic baby CPR!! I can save your dolly!!

I hope that, like trigonometry, infant CPR is not something I will ever actually need to use now that I've learned it.

I hope that, unlike the resusci-baby they gave me last night, Zuul will be born complete with straw-like airway and plastic bag-like lungs. Hard to resuscitate a dolly with no windpipe!

I hope that the fact that I have a bruise on the butt of my hand from compressing the resusci-kid mannequin's chest means I was doing something right instead of something wrong...

I hope all of the plastic-torsoed parents appreciate the work that we did to save their children. I hope they know that we are protected by the Good Samaritan Law.

I hope our kid asks for our qualifications before it lets us take it home from the hospital, 'cause we're certified!! (Okay, we're not technically certified, but we are qualified... at least we're gonna be by the time it gets here.)

Cutting the Cord

Not that cord, not yet.

I have officially changed doctors. I hope that means the next 9 1/2 weeks will be much more peaceful. I do like the fact that I'm not afraid to see who's calling me when the phone rings.

I hope that this change will mean having a doctor that I can love and who will be excited for me and Senor and our baby. I hope it will mean a staff that acts like they are glad to see me when I come in, even if they are just faking it. I hope it will mean always feeling certain that they are talking to me and not some girl that looks like me. I hope it will mean dealing with people who won't make me feel silly for worrying about things that are mysterious and scary to me. Pregnancy is full of worrisome stuff, and while I try my best not to be an alarmist, there are still some things that set off my alarms. Considering all of the times I could have called in a panic but haven't, I should get a little kid-gloving when I do get freaked out. I'm hoping for all of these things.

But even if all I get is a fresh start and a guarantee that these doctors take my insurance, it will be a step in the right direction. Plus it's about 20 minutes closer to home. That's better than a poke in the eye.

Knittin' in the ER

(NOTE: No babies or mommies were harmed in the experiencing nor writing of this post.)

Gosh, where to start? I feel like a different person since Thursday afternoon. I'm going to have to give you the bullet point version of this story, or Zuul will be off to college by the time I finish.

- Thursday afternoon I got a call from my OB's office telling me that they were no longer contracted with my insurance coverage AS OF NOVEMBER and that would affect the out of pocket cost of seeing them. "Some people got letters." I wasn't one of them.

- I freaked out, but I had an appointment already set up for my regular check-up on Friday and decided to handle it with them at that time.

- Friday morning I saw first the Billing Lady who made me cry by telling me that instead of costing us $200 out of pocket for delivery (not including the hospital's fee) it would now cost us over $1000. This does not include any other visits either. She could not tell me exactly how much the difference would be, only that I would be responsible for 40% of the cost and the insurance would cover 70%.

- Apparently my baby is special and requires a total monetary contribution of 110%.

- I was sent back to the waiting room crying to wait to see the office manager.

- The office manager came out to get me and asked me if someone was going to be able to look after my baby while I went to her office. "I don't have a baby yet." I guess she saw someone else's empty baby carrier and got confused.

- She told me that I needed to tell her what was said to me because "nothing you've been told should have brought you to tears." Um. I'll be the judge of that. Perhaps you should wait to find out what exactly I've been told.

- At some point she said, "Ah, so you've already delivered." Um. No. Are you talking to the right person, lady? I'm sitting in front of you with a giant belly crying because my insurance changed MID-pregnancy. Isn't that what we've been talking about?

- I was sent back to the waiting room, having told my story to someone who did or did not know who I was, who told me that she would work out a "continuation of coverage" with the insurance company.

- I waited an hour. At that point I decided to stop being polite and start getting real. "I've been here for an hour and still haven't seen the doctor. You guys don't seem busy, did you forget about me?" They had to find my chart and brought me in.

- The doctor was nice and apologized for the misunderstanding about the insurance and assured me that everything would be fine. She also reminded me that I would need a Rhogam shot that day due to my negative blood type. Oh yeah.

- I scheduled my next two routine visits and left.

- Halfway out of the parking lot I remembered that I wasn't given a shot and went back in. Good thing my medical caregivers are thorough and remembery.

- They informed me that I would have to go over to the hospital across the street and get the shot from Labor and Delivery. I went, carrying my prescription and a print out of blood details.

- Labor and delivery doesn't do these shots. They sent me to the in-hospital lab.

- The in-hospital lab doesn't do these shots. They sent me to the ER.

- The ER can do these shots but don't seem to know much about them. They checked me in.

- I told them I needed the shot because of my negative blood type. (Should I have to explain to nurses about my routine medical needs?) I answered a bunch of questions that seemed strange to be asked, and they put me in a room.

- They tested my blood to verify my blood-type. Why they couldn't call the doctor across the street for verification of my blood-type, I don't know. I didn't think to insist that they call because I was trying to keep my cool in the face of the frustration, and I shouldn't be telling my medical care professionals how to take care of me, should I? Or should I?

- The nurse who took my blood accidentally pricked her finger, so I had to sign a waiver allowing them to test my blood for HIV and Herpes in case she had been exposed to my deadly germiness. (I know this is not a personal thing, and that they would have done that with anyone, but it's a strange position to be in, especially when I could hear this nurse down the hall going on and on about how scared she was about it)

- TWO HOURS LATER: A different nurse came in to give me my shot, and then left because she forgot to bring a syringe. She came back to find my sleeve rolled up. "This shot goes in your leg." "Oh, bummer," I said as I prepared to drop trow. "Although, you've got meaty arms, so we could try to do it there." Thanks tiny nurse, what a strange way to kick me while I'm down by insulting my weight!

- I got my shot.

- I asked if I could talk to someone about billing. They said they don't have a list of fees and that I should call the actual billing department. They gave me a number.

- I was discharged, finally, a full 6 hours after I'd shown up for my appointment that morning. Not having eaten nor had anything to drink since 8am.

- Once I got home, I called billing. They don't have a list of fees and asked me to call the ER. I told them that the ER gave me their phone number. Apparently, no one knows how much anything costs except that just to check in to the ER charges $200 to the insurance. I kept thinking as my blood began to boil that it wasn't even an emergency.

- I called the doctor's office to tell them what had happened. The receptionist said she'd have the office manager call me back.

- She did. I picked up the phone. "Hello?" "Hello, is this Cynthia Strong?" "No, but it is Natalie Strong, am I who you are trying to reach?"

- I let her have it. Once again she didn't know who she was talking to. She made a bunch of excuses for everything, none of which were valid, including that she didn't know what had been said to me about my insurance that made me cry (didn't we talk about that in person?!) and that they are really busy because they just opened a cellulite treatment and liposuction division of their practice (are you telling me that bumpy asses are more important than properly treating a pregnant woman?! You can kiss my bumpy ass!!)... and she followed it all up by letting me know that she has a background in law (um. Ever heard of malpractice? Maybe you should help your doctors avoid that.)

- The weekend passed pleasantly once I stopped crying again.

- Today I called the insurance company to apply for the continuation of coverage that was supposed to be so simple to get. The insurance company only allows you to apply if your coverage has lapsed, which ours has not. If the provider drops them, they have no obligation to me whatsoever.

- I'm waiting for a call back from the office manager and have set up an appointment with a different doctor who is in my network and whose office is much closer to my home and who went to USC. It sounds like the best solution... mostly.

- I don't actually want to switch doctors, 'cause I like the doctor, but the staff is too inept for me. I can't hold their hands through my first pregnancy. Perhaps the next time around I'll be a better help.

"This place has an upstairs?!" and Other Tidbits

--Last night the baby discovered that its special sack filled with water has an upstairs. It was a very strange feeling, almost as though there were something scary sitting down near my bladder that the baby was backing away from, cramming itself up into the safety of my ribcage. Easy there, Jr., Mommy can't breathe!


--Resolution Wrinkle #1: If you're trying to work on just one project at a time, and you run across something like, say, the end of a skein of yarn... and the next isn't balled up yet... and you're too lazy to ball the next one in spite of the fact that you now have a ball winder AND a swift at home... then no knitting happens at all. Resolution doesn't get broken, but that's just a technicality, 'cause the intended outcome of the resolution is to finish projects more quickly.


--Rachel Ray? Not a total quack. Yes, the "EVOO" thing drives me batty, but in the magazine you don't have to hear her say it, so it's not as bad. This week I've tried two of her recipes from the latest magazine, which arrived of its own accord at the office on Monday, and they both turned out pretty well! There are adjustments I'd make to both, but overall they are good foundations for personalization and experimentation, and that's why I picked them. Senor and I are sick of the recipes that I know off the top of my head and seriously need to shuffle in some new options. Mission accomplished! (Though the "30 minute meal"ness of last night's dinner must involve assistance or magical pre-prepared ingredients, 'cause it took me an hour)


--I'm rereading Harry Potter. I'm in the very early pages of book 1, and I have to say, if you loved it the first time, you'll love it the second time. It's so interesting to know where it all goes as you're getting reintroduced to everything and everyone. Pointy hats off to you, J.K.!

--The baby doesn't like it when I rest Harry Potter on the belly as I read. Little does Zuul know that trying to kick the book off has only inspired a new game for Mommy and Daddy: Things on the Baby. What stays and what goes? Endless fun!

Three and a Half Weeks Later

JANUARY!!!
Here I am at 29 1/2 weeks, just over 10 to go. Yikes!!! Would you say I've "popped"? I would. And what's a measly 10 pounds in a month among friends? The baby already weighs 35 lbs, you know. Honestly. Almost big enough not to need a car seat anymore. They double checked. I am the first woman who will ACTUALLY have the baby that drops her back to her pre-pregnancy weight. It's an honor, really. I'd like to thank Christmas for it's love and support in my pursuit of appetizers and pie; I'd like to thank my sofa for being there when I needed someone to lean on for hours at a time; I'd like to thank my Barn-Raising Quilt for giving me something "better" to do; and of course my darling Zuul, without whom I'd never be able to justify drinking egg nogg after Christmas is over (it's on special, you know).

2008: Resolved

I will not spend another January working on this bad boy!! It is officially finished and in use!

Having started it in January of 2007, I decided near the end of 2008 that I would finish this epic before 2009 began. After three days of what seemed like endless end-weaving, I was finally able to curl up for a nap under my beauty on New Years Eve.

I can't lie. It felt great to be done.

So, my knitting resolution for 2009? Attempt project monogamy. Socks are the exception, of course, but I hope to finish things in shorter amounts of time by trying to limit the distraction factor. We shall see.

At the moment, I turn my focus on a lovely seed stitch jacket for Zuul. Over halfway finished... So far, so good.

Introducing Ernie-Bert Mitts

As a kid, I loved Bert and Ernie, and as a kid, I said a lot of things wrong, as kids are known to do. I called my television friends Ernie-Bert, a fact of which I was reminded by my mom recently. In fact, she reminded me of it about the same time as I began whipping up a little striped number:


The stripes are Dream in Color Smooshy in "In Vino Veritas" and "Black Parade", and the combination reminded me of the striped shirts of Ernie-Bert. Thus we have the Ernie-Bert Mitts.


They're nothing very novel, a tube with a thumb gusset, basically, but they were created out of my head without reference to any other pattern and thus qualify as my own pattern. My first, I think. And I love them!


I'm going to type up the pattern, such as it is, in case anyone wants to try out a pair. They are perfect for using up leftover sock yarn, as they don't take much of either color. And the best thing is that they fit snugly so they don't shift around under long sleeves!

Pregnant Feet

Can you see where my shoes have been? The marks are from my handknit socks.

This is what afternoon looks like on the end of pregnant legs. So pretty.

"Logs on the fire fill me with desire."

Because of their slight yet imaginary resemblance to male body parts?

Because you're a pyromaniac?

Because some hot lumberjack cut them up for you while Bridges-of-Madison-Countying you last summer?

Because you are a dendrophiliac?

Who decided that these were good lyrics?

Why do they come back every year to bother me?

One Worthwhile Way to Support the Economy

It's rainy or snowy, it's cold, it's the holidays, you have time off work (hopefully)-- I know you're not out doing free things like hiking or walking along the beach or swimming in your fabulous pool.

And while I know that you ARE counting your pennies, there are ways for us all to help, and I've discovered one that will benefit you too.

"Frost/Nixon"

I admit, I saw it for free, and thus did not infuse the economy with my viewing-- BUT. Seriously. It's so good that if I could bet my pinched pennies on the probability of cinema teachers at major universities holding this film up as a gold standard, I would do it! I would march right over to my local deserted ScotTrade office and lay down my cash. This movie is fantastic!

Is it the writing? Yes. Is it the performances? Good God, yes. Is it the fact that the church in which I was christened plays Nixon's California home? A little (this might not work for you, though). Is it the subject matter? Absolutely. Is it the fact that Democrats and Republicans alike can find something worthwhile to enjoy and learn here? Yes. It is not a hatchett job. It is a beautiful portrayal of flawed men facing each other with their reputations and, essentially, their lives on the line.

You must see it. It is worth the $10. I would even dare say it is worth the $12.50 seats at the luxury theaters.

And get popcorn. 'Cause it's good, too.

We All Scream for Ice Cream!!!

Just called the doctor's office. I tested negative for gestational diabetes. Yay! One less thing to worry about! It's a good thing too, because it's that time of year when the world falls in love, and we get all kinds of treats from the specialists to whom we refer our patients. Glad I won't have to worry so much about resisting. :)

So, knitting. Remember knitting? Not to worry, there has been much knitting lately. A dead battery in the camera put a delay on my showing you, but I do have a few photos now... hang on while I upload them...




The Ellen Cowl (Ravelry link), which I knit for my hairdresser, was the first cowl I've made. These things are brilliant! I know I'm telling you something you probably already know, but hello stashbusting genius! Out of one skein of Malabrigo worsted (here in Apple Cinnamon), I was able to make one man's size beanie, this cowl and STILL HAVE SOME LEFT OVER!!!

I don't think you will be that surprised that I cast on for another cowl right away with leftovers from Mark's sweater (the one I did for Ravelympics). I am testing out the Herringbone stitch, which I really like so far. But I think I'll wait until it's finished to show you, since it shouldn't be long.

I also completed the left front sleeve and front panel of my Sunrise Circle Jacket, which you have not yet seen.

As Meatwad would say, "It is highly edumacationous for my brain." I love the shape of this, but I do find instructions like "(M1R, k32) 4 times" very difficult to keep track of... I've had to do a lot of recounting of stitches. With that said, though, I am up the sleeve and halfway across the semicircle of the right front. I might even be wearing this sweater by Christmas... maybe. The back is finished and blocked already, so I'm awfully close!

The brilliant thing about this sweater, I'm hoping, is that it will leave the perfect little space for the belly to show.

Here's the belly, 26 weeks down, 14 to go!

This photo was almost precisely one month after the previous, for comparison's sake. Most everyone is saying it's small for almost 6 months... I think it's pretty big, myself, and I've earned every last inch of it! I did have a chat with Zuul to see if he or she can help stretch it out a bit bigger for everyone, but we haven't worked out our "One kick means Yes, Two kicks means No" system very well yet. I wonder what 37 kicks and a roll means...

How my work day started:

(Phone Rings)

ME: Goodmorning, Dr. Williams' office, this is Natalie.

CALLER: Are you sure you still want to have kids?

ME: Who is this?

CALLER: This is [uncouth caller of the day].

ME: (laughing uncomfortably) Well, [uncouth caller of the day], that's not a very nice question. I'm not sure I have much of a choice at this point.

Uncouth caller continues with the subject of her call, which involves the ways in which her son is driving her crazy, and how babies are cute but teenagers are a nightmare, and what time is her son's dental appointment again. I try to conduct the business at hand while she seems determined to besmirch the reputation of all offspring ever procreated, and then proceeds to apologize 4 or 5 times, making me uncomfortable enough to say the following, though I didn't mean it:

ME: Oh, don't be silly, I was just teasing you back. It's not the first time I've heard any of this.

When what I really wanted to say was:

ME: Perhaps you should have thought about what you were saying before saying it. Then you wouldn't have to apologize so much that it makes me feel like it's my fault for being insensitive to you in response to your insensitive question. By the way, I haven't had enough coffee yet, and you have now solidified my opinion that my pregnancy is the universal kryptonite to all decent human behavior.



People, I haven't even had my belly touched by a stranger yet. I fear for the safety of the world when that happens...

I might take a week off of being pregnant next week. Who do I see about that?

See it. Love it.

"Lars and the Real Girl"

Don't let the life-sized love doll scare you away. This movie is all about heart and not about the other things the doll can do. Perfect for a quiet, lovely night in.