I do not do pregnant well. I don't like having to share my body with another person- I just don't! Not that I don't love my daughter- because I do- I just hate the limitations it places on a body. Literally. I can't lift what I used to. My back goes out if I twist the wrong way. I exhaust easily. I can't eat what I used to. I can't sleep the same hours I used to. I can't get as much done in a day. All of this adds up to one big headache- especially when you're not entirely moved out of your old place, but have to be by Saturday to avoid paying another month's rent.
Let me elaborate on this a little. So, despite the best of plans to move over a month's time into the new place, what wound up happening was a lot of moving in the beginning, a little in the middle, and a big chunk still to go at the end. It's not that there's a lot of physical moving to do, but there is a lot of trash to be dealt with and some cleaning to be done. I don't labor under any fantasy that I'll be getting my deposit back (not with my jackass landlord), but I am not a horrible person (or at least I hope not), so I am doing what I can. Today, I tackled the bedroom.
Now there's not much up there. A dresser, an end table, some clothes and odds and ends... and a bunch of junk. Problem is, Ms. Genius (yeah, that's me) didn't realize we didn't have trash bags anymore at the townhouse. So, in my state of pure brilliance, I chose to use old sheets I was getting rid of anyways to wrap the junk up in, and then drop it out the window next to the trash can. Here's the problem with this plan: trash is heavy, and windows are small. So while I was expediting the trash process, I was also killing my back. Smart, huh?
So I was almost done with all of this when I look down and see blood smeared all over my ankle. I had been working in the closet, where months earlier someone had stepped on a frame and cracked some glass, but I had never cleaned it up. It now appeared that one of those shards of glass was sticking out of my ankle. Lovely. So I wiped it off, and headed downstairs to breathe and transfer the trash from the patio into the garbage can. While standing in the living room, my ankles and feet began to itch, and wondering if the blood had started to drip again from my battle wounds, I glanced down. No, no blood. Just fleas. Like forty of them on each leg. Gross.
Then I headed out to the patio to finish things up. In my infinite wisdom, I had only calculated the ease (or what turned out to be a lack thereof) in dropping trash. I now found myself having to lift said heavy trash into the garbage can. In a show of what felt like Herculean strength but probably would have been quite easy for anyone else, I managed to stuff about 2/3 of the crap into the can. I smiled at my work, until I realized that the trash had already been taken away yesterday, and now the garbage can was full, with 1/3 of the junk from the bedroom lying about on the patio and even more trash inside waiting to go out. GREAT.
On the way home, as my body and mind settled from the adrenaline rush that comes from wanting to GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE, my body was finally heard, and it was ANGRY. My back hurt tremendously, and I knew it was only going to get worse. On top of that, there was this intense pressure on my pelvic floor.
No, I had not gone into labor. Just clarifying. You may continue.
This pressure has been there for the past few days, but it was very prominent in that moment. As I mulled over the different sensations, I realized that my whole belly seemed a lot lower, and this, in combination with the spontaneous hardening and softening of the belly, plus sporadic pains therein, got me a little worried.
What does this mean? It means the baby has dropped. As in, she's making her way towards the vaginal canal so she can come out to play. Problem is, SHE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO YET! This functionally puts me on bed rest until I see the doctor next (a week from today). Unfortunately, in the midst of the final moving days, this benches me to the sidelines. Those of you who know me know that when crisis (or catastrophe) strikes, I like to be at the helm so this lack of control is enough to make me want to cry.
On the upside, baby is coming. I just hope she waits until after July 1st to make an appearance!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Pinch me, I'm dreaming...
Oh the nightmares.
As if I don't have enough on my mind these days, my sleep, which is already restless due to late night pee breaks, is being interrupted by terrible nightmares, or at the very least, very vivid dreams.
A lot of them circle around the boy. There have been dreams where he runs off with some random person who is supposedly a good friend (it's never anyone I actually know in real life, though), or others where he straight bounces. In one, he's started sleeping with someone else because I'm too busy with the baby, and I apparently was ok with it, but when I tried to reach out and reconnect, he told me he liked the hussy better. I always wake up in a cold sweat from these dreams, even with the knowledge that I am with the most faithful, devoted and loving man on the face of the earth. He always kisses me when I tell him about these frightful visions, and tells me I'm crazy for thinking he'd even contemplate leaving.
Doesn't make the dreams any less disturbing.
Other dreams have revolved around my grandma, who passed away in April. It's really jarring, because they'll be so real, I'll think I'm going to wake up to call and tell her about it. In one of the dreams, she was planting flowers outside of our new place. I was so rattled I had to get up to double check that someone hadn't been gardening overnight. I mean, I'm not particularly religious, but she was, and I can't help but feel she's looking out for me. One of my aunts, when she passed away, reassured me that even though she couldn't be here, my daughter to be has the most diligent guardian angel ever.
So what does this have to do with being pregnant? Hormones. It's part of the process. Pregnancy-info.net does a much better job than I could of explaining it:
"Throughout your pregnancy, your body pumps out a variety of different hormones, including progesterone and estrogen. It is thought that these hormones affect the way we sleep at night, causing us to experience longer periods of REM sleep. It is during REM sleep that our minds begin to dream."
Ok. Cool. Now I know why. Doesn't make the dreams any less weird.
Oh well. Less than ten weeks until the due date, and only 5 or so more until I can urge her to come out without feeling guilty about it.
As if I don't have enough on my mind these days, my sleep, which is already restless due to late night pee breaks, is being interrupted by terrible nightmares, or at the very least, very vivid dreams.
A lot of them circle around the boy. There have been dreams where he runs off with some random person who is supposedly a good friend (it's never anyone I actually know in real life, though), or others where he straight bounces. In one, he's started sleeping with someone else because I'm too busy with the baby, and I apparently was ok with it, but when I tried to reach out and reconnect, he told me he liked the hussy better. I always wake up in a cold sweat from these dreams, even with the knowledge that I am with the most faithful, devoted and loving man on the face of the earth. He always kisses me when I tell him about these frightful visions, and tells me I'm crazy for thinking he'd even contemplate leaving.
Doesn't make the dreams any less disturbing.
Other dreams have revolved around my grandma, who passed away in April. It's really jarring, because they'll be so real, I'll think I'm going to wake up to call and tell her about it. In one of the dreams, she was planting flowers outside of our new place. I was so rattled I had to get up to double check that someone hadn't been gardening overnight. I mean, I'm not particularly religious, but she was, and I can't help but feel she's looking out for me. One of my aunts, when she passed away, reassured me that even though she couldn't be here, my daughter to be has the most diligent guardian angel ever.
So what does this have to do with being pregnant? Hormones. It's part of the process. Pregnancy-info.net does a much better job than I could of explaining it:
"Throughout your pregnancy, your body pumps out a variety of different hormones, including progesterone and estrogen. It is thought that these hormones affect the way we sleep at night, causing us to experience longer periods of REM sleep. It is during REM sleep that our minds begin to dream."
Ok. Cool. Now I know why. Doesn't make the dreams any less weird.
Oh well. Less than ten weeks until the due date, and only 5 or so more until I can urge her to come out without feeling guilty about it.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Picking up Speed
BABY STUFF CRISIS MODE!
Also known as Post Baby Shower Overdrive Syndrome.
Also known as Lauren is LOSING IT.
Well, not really. I'm just excited, and those of you who know me know that I am functionally obsessive compulsive when something big is happening, and that I will purse my goals with tunnel vision at all costs. Unfortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel is baby, and thus, I am going forward at full speed and trying to figure it all out along the way. A couple of things I've noticed.
One, baby things are unnecessarily complicated to assemble. Who knew a high chair could create such a headache? You know, when I was going through and registering for the showers, I scoffed at the people who judged a product based on ease of assembly, but these days, I feel like I should have listened. The screws, parts and pieces add up in a way that makes my head spin. Of course, unlike a normal person, I decided I should just get it all done at once. Talk about a pain in the butt. Once the high chair was done, it got a little bit more simple. The swing came together fairly easily, and I've found a place for basically everything.
Two, baby has a lot of stuff. A LOT. I'm telling you- it's absolutely insane. It's not like I can just stack and go, either. You have to make sure that things are put in logical places-bathing supplies go on their own special shelf in the bathroom; a new shelf for bottles, nipples, etc and a drawer for the spoons and bottle liners (though you haven't quite figured out how they work yet); a makeshift changing table from an old computer desk with diapers and creams stacked beneath; the list goes on. What's worse, is that she has more clothes than I can shake a finger at, and all of it had to be washed in special baby detergent. At least that smelled good.
Three, I'm exhausted. I'm totally wiped out, and for no apparent reason. I try to move, and be active, and be productive, and I fail, and it sucks. On top of that, I'm trying to figure out what to tackle first, and the to do list seems too daunting to function.
Four, my doctor sucks. I go in, and she goes, by the way, you need an ultrasound, NOW, because the radiologist couldn't find the heart. Ok, problem is, she was referencing my ultrasounds, which was, by the way, 10 WEEKS AGO. So here I am thinking, shit, I have a baby, and she doesn't have a heart, and what the hell does that mean and... then the technician explains that it really just means that my uterus doesn't photograph well so we need to try to get a better picture of the heart. Here's to clarity.
Well, I'm off to settle the baby with some pizza. Wow this girl can kick.
Also known as Post Baby Shower Overdrive Syndrome.
Also known as Lauren is LOSING IT.
Well, not really. I'm just excited, and those of you who know me know that I am functionally obsessive compulsive when something big is happening, and that I will purse my goals with tunnel vision at all costs. Unfortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel is baby, and thus, I am going forward at full speed and trying to figure it all out along the way. A couple of things I've noticed.
One, baby things are unnecessarily complicated to assemble. Who knew a high chair could create such a headache? You know, when I was going through and registering for the showers, I scoffed at the people who judged a product based on ease of assembly, but these days, I feel like I should have listened. The screws, parts and pieces add up in a way that makes my head spin. Of course, unlike a normal person, I decided I should just get it all done at once. Talk about a pain in the butt. Once the high chair was done, it got a little bit more simple. The swing came together fairly easily, and I've found a place for basically everything.
Two, baby has a lot of stuff. A LOT. I'm telling you- it's absolutely insane. It's not like I can just stack and go, either. You have to make sure that things are put in logical places-bathing supplies go on their own special shelf in the bathroom; a new shelf for bottles, nipples, etc and a drawer for the spoons and bottle liners (though you haven't quite figured out how they work yet); a makeshift changing table from an old computer desk with diapers and creams stacked beneath; the list goes on. What's worse, is that she has more clothes than I can shake a finger at, and all of it had to be washed in special baby detergent. At least that smelled good.
Three, I'm exhausted. I'm totally wiped out, and for no apparent reason. I try to move, and be active, and be productive, and I fail, and it sucks. On top of that, I'm trying to figure out what to tackle first, and the to do list seems too daunting to function.
Four, my doctor sucks. I go in, and she goes, by the way, you need an ultrasound, NOW, because the radiologist couldn't find the heart. Ok, problem is, she was referencing my ultrasounds, which was, by the way, 10 WEEKS AGO. So here I am thinking, shit, I have a baby, and she doesn't have a heart, and what the hell does that mean and... then the technician explains that it really just means that my uterus doesn't photograph well so we need to try to get a better picture of the heart. Here's to clarity.
Well, I'm off to settle the baby with some pizza. Wow this girl can kick.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
April Showers Bring May Flowers... and Baby Showers!
YAY! PAR-TAY! Ok, so perhaps not in the traditional sense, but it was certainly a celebration, and the first of two. Yep, that's right- I've had my first baby shower... and what an experience!
I love my team soooo much. They have been tremendously supportive from the beginning of all of this, but they blew me out of the water with the shower. It's the end of the semester, cash is running low for most, and finals are in our midst. I assumed that would translate into a handful of people and many thoughtful cards, which, to be honest, I would have been overjoyed with anyways. Instead, there were streamers, balloons, delicious cake, a mountain of gifts and loads of friends fighting over who gets to babysit first!
Moreover, it was fantastic to see the boy finally get some attention for his role as daddy-to-be. He really has been fantastic, especially over the last month or so. My grandma passed away right in the middle of all of the national tournaments for speech and me being perpetually ill (I am, by the way, feeling better!), and the end result was an emotional wreck of massive proportions where his girlfriend had once stood. Not that I had been this pillar of strength and logic before hand, but I was certainly a monster in the aftermath. In any case, he has been supportive and more patient that I ever could be, but because he works a great deal and had kind of become disenchanted with forensics as his career came to a close, he was never quite the center of attention as far as baby things go. My family (God bless 'em) has been very vocal and involved every step of the way (which is what I needed, frankly), but his family is a little more quiet and subdued, especially on this issue. So, after all that babble, the point is- he was the center of attention for a little bit.
It was adorable watching him open the gifts! He'd get all excited about one thing or another. At one point, I was about to reach for the next package when he starts nudging me and goes, "No, wait! You've got to see this!" I turned, and he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding up a little pink outfit. "It's got a hat!"
He totally melted my heart.
He was enthralled with how many different products go into bathing and changing a child, and by just how small some of the little accessories were. He beamed with pride at the sight of a little teething toy that said "I Love My Daddy." I think it became very real for him in that moment, but instead of running for the hills as many men might, he got more and more excited.
At the end of the shower, toasts were made, and I was fighting back the tears, they were so sweet. Again, the boy was given some attention and love, as teammates testified to the fact that he was going to be a great father. Have I mentioned how much I love my team?
As we transported all of the beautiful gifts into the room that will be the nursery, I, on the other hand, panicked. There's still so much to do! I am 28 weeks, 1 day, which means I've still got some time, but I don't know that there is any amount of time that can prepare someone for pushing an infant between their legs and taking on responsibility for a new life. Don't misunderstand- I will step up to the plate swinging on day one, but it doesn't mean I'm not nervous now.
A couple of things have been resolved, though. For example, I am coming back to compete, though I am done, done, DONE with Parli. I think it's for the best, honestly. Looking into next year, I think I'd go crazy if I had to worry about all of the uncertainties associated with partnerships and travel. I'll be doing IEs and LD, and my Director of Forensics has asked me to function as a student worker for the program, keeping track of times for pieces, managing the extemp files, and helping out with some novi. Weeee!!! Here's to figuring things out :)
School has finally come to an end. For awhile, things were looking a little scary; I wasn't sure professors were going to be understanding about my month of hell. However, they all came around, and while I may get a C in one (at worst, two) classes, I have one A for sure, might pull off another, and potentially could get two B's afterwards. We shall see, I suppose. I'm just glad none of them failed me!
My schedule for next semester has been set up as well. I'm taking a lot of evening classes to help stave off the need for babysitters (not that there's a shortage of volunteers). We'll see how things wind up panning out. I over-registered so that if I need to drop one, I can. Time will tell how things shake down.
We've moved into our new place! Kind of. Sort of. Well, almost. It's a cute little duplex, and while we have a neighbor, hell if I know who the are, as they have yet to be here. My landlord (who's really cool) told us that she's almost never there, which I guess will be a good thing with a screaming child next door at 3 am. It's got plenty of space, is in good condition, and the landlord has given us free reign to paint/landscape/do what we want. Plus, we don't have to mow, but we get a yard! Yay!
I have already painted the living room, which was quite the ordeal. Before you start gasping in horror for my child's brain development, I followed the rules. Latex paint. Windows open. Mask. Frequent breaks. A room that should have taken me a day to paint took me 2 1/2. It looks great though! Only room left to paint is baby's... though I may have the boy figure that one out for me.
Well, I've got to go make some money a la transcription revision. Next baby shower is May 17th! I can't wait!
I love my team soooo much. They have been tremendously supportive from the beginning of all of this, but they blew me out of the water with the shower. It's the end of the semester, cash is running low for most, and finals are in our midst. I assumed that would translate into a handful of people and many thoughtful cards, which, to be honest, I would have been overjoyed with anyways. Instead, there were streamers, balloons, delicious cake, a mountain of gifts and loads of friends fighting over who gets to babysit first!
Moreover, it was fantastic to see the boy finally get some attention for his role as daddy-to-be. He really has been fantastic, especially over the last month or so. My grandma passed away right in the middle of all of the national tournaments for speech and me being perpetually ill (I am, by the way, feeling better!), and the end result was an emotional wreck of massive proportions where his girlfriend had once stood. Not that I had been this pillar of strength and logic before hand, but I was certainly a monster in the aftermath. In any case, he has been supportive and more patient that I ever could be, but because he works a great deal and had kind of become disenchanted with forensics as his career came to a close, he was never quite the center of attention as far as baby things go. My family (God bless 'em) has been very vocal and involved every step of the way (which is what I needed, frankly), but his family is a little more quiet and subdued, especially on this issue. So, after all that babble, the point is- he was the center of attention for a little bit.
It was adorable watching him open the gifts! He'd get all excited about one thing or another. At one point, I was about to reach for the next package when he starts nudging me and goes, "No, wait! You've got to see this!" I turned, and he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding up a little pink outfit. "It's got a hat!"
He totally melted my heart.
He was enthralled with how many different products go into bathing and changing a child, and by just how small some of the little accessories were. He beamed with pride at the sight of a little teething toy that said "I Love My Daddy." I think it became very real for him in that moment, but instead of running for the hills as many men might, he got more and more excited.
At the end of the shower, toasts were made, and I was fighting back the tears, they were so sweet. Again, the boy was given some attention and love, as teammates testified to the fact that he was going to be a great father. Have I mentioned how much I love my team?
As we transported all of the beautiful gifts into the room that will be the nursery, I, on the other hand, panicked. There's still so much to do! I am 28 weeks, 1 day, which means I've still got some time, but I don't know that there is any amount of time that can prepare someone for pushing an infant between their legs and taking on responsibility for a new life. Don't misunderstand- I will step up to the plate swinging on day one, but it doesn't mean I'm not nervous now.
A couple of things have been resolved, though. For example, I am coming back to compete, though I am done, done, DONE with Parli. I think it's for the best, honestly. Looking into next year, I think I'd go crazy if I had to worry about all of the uncertainties associated with partnerships and travel. I'll be doing IEs and LD, and my Director of Forensics has asked me to function as a student worker for the program, keeping track of times for pieces, managing the extemp files, and helping out with some novi. Weeee!!! Here's to figuring things out :)
School has finally come to an end. For awhile, things were looking a little scary; I wasn't sure professors were going to be understanding about my month of hell. However, they all came around, and while I may get a C in one (at worst, two) classes, I have one A for sure, might pull off another, and potentially could get two B's afterwards. We shall see, I suppose. I'm just glad none of them failed me!
My schedule for next semester has been set up as well. I'm taking a lot of evening classes to help stave off the need for babysitters (not that there's a shortage of volunteers). We'll see how things wind up panning out. I over-registered so that if I need to drop one, I can. Time will tell how things shake down.
We've moved into our new place! Kind of. Sort of. Well, almost. It's a cute little duplex, and while we have a neighbor, hell if I know who the are, as they have yet to be here. My landlord (who's really cool) told us that she's almost never there, which I guess will be a good thing with a screaming child next door at 3 am. It's got plenty of space, is in good condition, and the landlord has given us free reign to paint/landscape/do what we want. Plus, we don't have to mow, but we get a yard! Yay!
I have already painted the living room, which was quite the ordeal. Before you start gasping in horror for my child's brain development, I followed the rules. Latex paint. Windows open. Mask. Frequent breaks. A room that should have taken me a day to paint took me 2 1/2. It looks great though! Only room left to paint is baby's... though I may have the boy figure that one out for me.
Well, I've got to go make some money a la transcription revision. Next baby shower is May 17th! I can't wait!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Phew!
Ok, so my life is FINALLY beginning to calm down, and as the dust settles, a couple things have become clear:
1. Doctors Suck.
2. People are pretty cool.
3. Pregnancy sucks.
Ok, so on the first note. I am ALWAYS sick these days. I would just write it off to "rhinitis of pregnancy" as I previously planned to (by the way... doesn't the word rhinitis give you the image a large rhino horn in the place where my nose should be? Ok, sorry, off topic), the coughing has been really severe and kept me from sleeping. After losing enough sleep as it is to Ava's hiccups, I finally sought medical attention (for the third time) to cure what ails me.
I don't have a family doctor down here yet (though I'll have to get one soon for when Ava arrives), so I've been relying on Urgentcare. Now, back in Wheaton, where I grew up, Urgentcare was a very professional operation where you could expect just as thorough an examination and treatment as you could with your regular doctor. In Bowling Green, unfortunately... well, let's just say it was less than I had hoped for.
First, the doctor tries to prescribe me a Z-pack. I say, "Well, like I told the nurse to put in the chart, I finished a Z-pack about a week or two ago, and the symptoms never went away."
He flips open my chart, makes a face, and says, "Right you are! Ok, let's try Amoxclav."
I purse my lips and furrow my brow. "Well, as my chart should indicate, I'm allergic to penicillin."
Again, he opens up the chart, flips through the pages and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, yes, I see it here. So... no penicillin. Let's try (insert some gobbledy-gook I can't remember)."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "You know, sir, that I am 6 1/2 months pregnant, right?"
He opens the chart back up, looks at my stomach, and then back to the chart. "Huh. So you are. Well, can't give you that then- it might kill you or the baby!"
He chuckles, and my stomach lurches. He mutters through his final prescription, I think hoping he won't have to correct himself again, and at this point I am so horrified I just want the interaction to end.
So I go to the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled. I can't read the doctor's handwriting (have you ever wondered how the pharmacists do it? I mean, do they have to take a class or something?), so I ask the pharmacists if everything is ok, given my allergies and pregnant state. Despite the fact that they've entered that information into my file at the pharmacy three times now, she informs me that it's not there, and she'll have to enter it again. After typing in the info one painful key at a time using her forefingers (really? She was like my age. No excuse for not being able to type if you've been through enough school to be filling my prescriptions), I ask her again. She looks up at the ceiling, as though she expects the answer to be written in the cracked white tile.
"Umm... I don't really know... HEY!! TINA!! CAN YOU TAKE LODRANE IF YOU'RE KNOCKED UP?"
Someone, I'm assuming Tina, hollers from a back corner, "UHHH... I DON'T KNOW. DID HER DOCTOR SAY IT WAS OK?"
The twittering idiot in front of me responds, "WELL, I MEAN, HE DID WRITE THE PRESCRIPTION!" She rolls her eyes and turns back to me. "You should be fine."
I sure felt reassured.
Well, I called my mom, who said she didn't know for sure on anything, and to call my OB/GYN. Makes sense, except I'm avoiding them altogether until I figure out what the hell is happening with my insurance (another post, another day). So, I cave and call, but no one is around. In the meantime, I still feel like CRAP.
Then, thank God, my #2 Observation from above comes to fruition- a girl in one my classes is actually an OB/GYN nurse who's come back to school to get another degree. I awkwardly asked her opinion of the medicines, and her face turned dark.
"Well," she said. "The first thing they gave you is Hydrocodone. This is a fairly strong narcotic. Now if you were taking it to just calm down some severe pain once in awhile, it would be fine, but it says here he wants you taking it on a regular basis. Do that, and the baby will be born addicted and go through withdrawl."
Great.
"This second one," she continued. "This one is a Class C pregnancy drug, as classified by the FDA. What that means is that there 'have not been adequate studies done on the effects the drug may have on a pregnant woman or her fetus.' That doesn't necessarily mean it's bad. Problem is, with this one in particular, studies conducted on mammals who almost always react in the same vein as humans found that the drug produces birth defects."
Fabulous.
"The last one," she went on. "Is also a Class C drug. Studies haven't proved anything yet on this one, though."
Wow, exciting.
It thanked her profusely and decided I wasn't touching anything, except maybe the hydrocodone if things got bad.
Moral of the story? ALWAYS double check your doctor. They are not perfect, and some of them are damn stupid. This doesn't mean you should read so much about your health that you become a hypochondriac, but especially if you're at risk due to certain conditions (pregnancy, high blood pressure, etc.), a follow up or second opinion can't hurt.
Second lesson is that people can be pretty cool. That nurse potentially helped me keep my baby out of harm's way. Renewed my faith in mankind, if only momentarily.
Finally, pregnancy sucks. I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool feeling Ava kick around when she doesn't like the position I'm sitting in, or feeling her settle down when the boy reads to her at night, and I'm beyond excited for her to be here, BUT
I just want her out already!
Ok, so maybe she should wait a few more weeks, but I wish the time would go by faster :)
1. Doctors Suck.
2. People are pretty cool.
3. Pregnancy sucks.
Ok, so on the first note. I am ALWAYS sick these days. I would just write it off to "rhinitis of pregnancy" as I previously planned to (by the way... doesn't the word rhinitis give you the image a large rhino horn in the place where my nose should be? Ok, sorry, off topic), the coughing has been really severe and kept me from sleeping. After losing enough sleep as it is to Ava's hiccups, I finally sought medical attention (for the third time) to cure what ails me.
I don't have a family doctor down here yet (though I'll have to get one soon for when Ava arrives), so I've been relying on Urgentcare. Now, back in Wheaton, where I grew up, Urgentcare was a very professional operation where you could expect just as thorough an examination and treatment as you could with your regular doctor. In Bowling Green, unfortunately... well, let's just say it was less than I had hoped for.
First, the doctor tries to prescribe me a Z-pack. I say, "Well, like I told the nurse to put in the chart, I finished a Z-pack about a week or two ago, and the symptoms never went away."
He flips open my chart, makes a face, and says, "Right you are! Ok, let's try Amoxclav."
I purse my lips and furrow my brow. "Well, as my chart should indicate, I'm allergic to penicillin."
Again, he opens up the chart, flips through the pages and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, yes, I see it here. So... no penicillin. Let's try (insert some gobbledy-gook I can't remember)."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "You know, sir, that I am 6 1/2 months pregnant, right?"
He opens the chart back up, looks at my stomach, and then back to the chart. "Huh. So you are. Well, can't give you that then- it might kill you or the baby!"
He chuckles, and my stomach lurches. He mutters through his final prescription, I think hoping he won't have to correct himself again, and at this point I am so horrified I just want the interaction to end.
So I go to the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled. I can't read the doctor's handwriting (have you ever wondered how the pharmacists do it? I mean, do they have to take a class or something?), so I ask the pharmacists if everything is ok, given my allergies and pregnant state. Despite the fact that they've entered that information into my file at the pharmacy three times now, she informs me that it's not there, and she'll have to enter it again. After typing in the info one painful key at a time using her forefingers (really? She was like my age. No excuse for not being able to type if you've been through enough school to be filling my prescriptions), I ask her again. She looks up at the ceiling, as though she expects the answer to be written in the cracked white tile.
"Umm... I don't really know... HEY!! TINA!! CAN YOU TAKE LODRANE IF YOU'RE KNOCKED UP?"
Someone, I'm assuming Tina, hollers from a back corner, "UHHH... I DON'T KNOW. DID HER DOCTOR SAY IT WAS OK?"
The twittering idiot in front of me responds, "WELL, I MEAN, HE DID WRITE THE PRESCRIPTION!" She rolls her eyes and turns back to me. "You should be fine."
I sure felt reassured.
Well, I called my mom, who said she didn't know for sure on anything, and to call my OB/GYN. Makes sense, except I'm avoiding them altogether until I figure out what the hell is happening with my insurance (another post, another day). So, I cave and call, but no one is around. In the meantime, I still feel like CRAP.
Then, thank God, my #2 Observation from above comes to fruition- a girl in one my classes is actually an OB/GYN nurse who's come back to school to get another degree. I awkwardly asked her opinion of the medicines, and her face turned dark.
"Well," she said. "The first thing they gave you is Hydrocodone. This is a fairly strong narcotic. Now if you were taking it to just calm down some severe pain once in awhile, it would be fine, but it says here he wants you taking it on a regular basis. Do that, and the baby will be born addicted and go through withdrawl."
Great.
"This second one," she continued. "This one is a Class C pregnancy drug, as classified by the FDA. What that means is that there 'have not been adequate studies done on the effects the drug may have on a pregnant woman or her fetus.' That doesn't necessarily mean it's bad. Problem is, with this one in particular, studies conducted on mammals who almost always react in the same vein as humans found that the drug produces birth defects."
Fabulous.
"The last one," she went on. "Is also a Class C drug. Studies haven't proved anything yet on this one, though."
Wow, exciting.
It thanked her profusely and decided I wasn't touching anything, except maybe the hydrocodone if things got bad.
Moral of the story? ALWAYS double check your doctor. They are not perfect, and some of them are damn stupid. This doesn't mean you should read so much about your health that you become a hypochondriac, but especially if you're at risk due to certain conditions (pregnancy, high blood pressure, etc.), a follow up or second opinion can't hurt.
Second lesson is that people can be pretty cool. That nurse potentially helped me keep my baby out of harm's way. Renewed my faith in mankind, if only momentarily.
Finally, pregnancy sucks. I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool feeling Ava kick around when she doesn't like the position I'm sitting in, or feeling her settle down when the boy reads to her at night, and I'm beyond excited for her to be here, BUT
I just want her out already!
Ok, so maybe she should wait a few more weeks, but I wish the time would go by faster :)
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Ramblings of the Delinquent Blogger
So, things I've learned about babies in my last month...
1. Milk doesn't come out of a single hole in the breast. It's more like a showerhead effect. Makes sense, but I think it's weird.
2. ER doctors are fucking stupid. After waiting 7 hours for what my OB thought was my gall bladder freaking out, the doctor basically was like, "So... I'd run this test, but you're pregnant... I'd say it's this, but you're pregnant AND young... I'd prescribe you this, but you're pregnant... so, um... try urgent care?" WTF?
3. Jessica Furgerson is on crack. Run the drug test. You'll see.
4. I technically COULD drink, if I wanted to. I won't, though, so don't worry. Not worth the risk. Chances of the child being crazy are already high enough.
5. My child is a genius. Sitting in IE rounds at nationals, she would begin to kick furiously in rage at unwarranted arguments, even if they are mine. I think we can all agree that those are bad. Good job, Ava!
6. Oh, I guess I should mention that we decided on the name Ava.
7. I guess I should also mention we found out that the fetus is a girl!
8. The boy believes our baby is fat. I tried to tell him that Nelson girls are just show offs, and we all pushed out our bellies in the womb only to be born string beans. He said, no, she's just obese. He also said he would buy her plastic surgery if she's ugly. I endorse neither stance.
9. Being sick sucks. I am sick all the time and have no opportunity to recover.
10. Update: my appetite is insane. Taco Bell is as delectable as a five star bistro and I ate an entire box of frosted flakes in two days by myself (on top of the other meals I've had). Also- you should be careful around me when I'm hungry, because if you look tasty, I might just bite you.
11. BABY'S REQUIRE A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF CRAP. I finally registered on Target.com, and it took forever. It's all so cute though! The boy, however, has vetoed exorbitant amounts of pink, so there's lots of neutral selections.
12. Flying sucks. Enough said.
13. Breast milk reportedly increases IQ. Also, breastfeeding is going to hurt more than anything. Woo hoo!
14. Baby girls produce millions and millions of eggs in utero, but only a portion of them survive when they are born.
15. Not only does the mother feel the baby kick- you can SEE it. It was quite possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen. Made me think of Alien when the monster tore out of the person. Maybe I'm confusing movies. It was also very cool though- the first visible sign of life. (Aside from the burgeoning stomach.)
16. Yellow, a very common choice if you're looking for something neutral, actually makes colicky babies more anxious and nauseous. Who knew?
17. By three months old, a baby can understand the normal tones associated with female and male voices. They will become confused or even frightened if the tone does not match the perceived gender.
18.... Ok, pregnancy stupids means that I'm out of things to say, but I promise I won't wait this long to post again. Much love, and pictures soon to come :)
1. Milk doesn't come out of a single hole in the breast. It's more like a showerhead effect. Makes sense, but I think it's weird.
2. ER doctors are fucking stupid. After waiting 7 hours for what my OB thought was my gall bladder freaking out, the doctor basically was like, "So... I'd run this test, but you're pregnant... I'd say it's this, but you're pregnant AND young... I'd prescribe you this, but you're pregnant... so, um... try urgent care?" WTF?
3. Jessica Furgerson is on crack. Run the drug test. You'll see.
4. I technically COULD drink, if I wanted to. I won't, though, so don't worry. Not worth the risk. Chances of the child being crazy are already high enough.
5. My child is a genius. Sitting in IE rounds at nationals, she would begin to kick furiously in rage at unwarranted arguments, even if they are mine. I think we can all agree that those are bad. Good job, Ava!
6. Oh, I guess I should mention that we decided on the name Ava.
7. I guess I should also mention we found out that the fetus is a girl!
8. The boy believes our baby is fat. I tried to tell him that Nelson girls are just show offs, and we all pushed out our bellies in the womb only to be born string beans. He said, no, she's just obese. He also said he would buy her plastic surgery if she's ugly. I endorse neither stance.
9. Being sick sucks. I am sick all the time and have no opportunity to recover.
10. Update: my appetite is insane. Taco Bell is as delectable as a five star bistro and I ate an entire box of frosted flakes in two days by myself (on top of the other meals I've had). Also- you should be careful around me when I'm hungry, because if you look tasty, I might just bite you.
11. BABY'S REQUIRE A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF CRAP. I finally registered on Target.com, and it took forever. It's all so cute though! The boy, however, has vetoed exorbitant amounts of pink, so there's lots of neutral selections.
12. Flying sucks. Enough said.
13. Breast milk reportedly increases IQ. Also, breastfeeding is going to hurt more than anything. Woo hoo!
14. Baby girls produce millions and millions of eggs in utero, but only a portion of them survive when they are born.
15. Not only does the mother feel the baby kick- you can SEE it. It was quite possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen. Made me think of Alien when the monster tore out of the person. Maybe I'm confusing movies. It was also very cool though- the first visible sign of life. (Aside from the burgeoning stomach.)
16. Yellow, a very common choice if you're looking for something neutral, actually makes colicky babies more anxious and nauseous. Who knew?
17. By three months old, a baby can understand the normal tones associated with female and male voices. They will become confused or even frightened if the tone does not match the perceived gender.
18.... Ok, pregnancy stupids means that I'm out of things to say, but I promise I won't wait this long to post again. Much love, and pictures soon to come :)
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Midol can't harness this rage
Oh, my poor, poor guy. He thought he was complimenting me when he said, "Really- I can't even tell you're pregnant. You don't look like you've gained any weight."
My lip began to quiver. A shaky wail escaped. "You mean I always look this fat?!?"
The road to hell is paved with good intentions...
So, hormones. What lovely little creatures they are. I mean, the only way to describe it is that feeling you get when you're watching the main character in a movie make one of those mistakes that you know could be avoided if everyone would just be open about what they're thinking or feeling (though of course no one ever is) and you know what's happening and how things are about to get hectic and all you want to do is shake them and say, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Except, the problem is that instead of it being a movie, you're watching yourself say the most neurotic things ever in a pitch that resembles the hysteria of a schizophrenic being put under arrest and could be used as damning evidence against you if someone wanted to challenge your competency to make legal decisions about your future. It's PMS 24/7 for nine months. Yayyy...
As BabyCenter.com explains, the surge of hormones your body is experiencing during pregnancy throws the levels of neurotransmitters in your body out of wack, which leaves you susceptible to massive mood swings. Magnifying these mood swings are high levels of anxiety about finances, your ability to be a good parent, and how large you've become.
There are a few strategies you can use to personally regulate your mood swings. The most important thing is to take a step back, breathe and think about what you're getting ready to say. It's pretty good advice on an average day to not speak in anger, but during pregnancy, this advice functions as law. You can take it back and blame it on the baby, but that excuse will get old real fast. Plus, if you can keep breathing on a regular basis, you might be able to avoid some of those massive blow-ups.
Eating right can help control the beast as well. As tempting as it may be to eat an entire box of shortbread cookies in one sitting (I know, I've done it), it doesn't help to stabilize your sugar levels, which can lead to lots and lots of mood swings. Eating foods that are especially rich in B6, such as bananas, peanuts, brown rice, eggs, avocado and whole grains, can help to keep your moods on an even keel, and aid in the development of neurotransmitters for your little one!
Another little piece of advice I would hand out is to be very careful of how you treat your significant other. The boy has begun to recognize when the Dr. Jekyll/Mr.Hyde transformation is about to occur in me, and will head for the hills at the first sign of twitching. He's been the target of one too many outbursts- none of which had any real basis to them- and I may have scarred him for life. Now, he and I had already honed our fighting skills into an art form, so it hasn't caused us to sleep in separate rooms, but in any other couple, I guarantee there'd have been some problems.
Remember, he's just as scared and confused as you are, and an outburst doesn't help to remedy that or the perceived offensive behavior of the moment. Men will wait on you hand and foot during this time period, but be careful not to turn into one of those Evil Stepmother Queens whose mandates are keeping Cinderfella from his Xbox Ball. I'm sure he's willing to go to far fewer of those galas than he used to, but he needs an outlet as well. Don't you forget.
After I had my pity party and my guy recovered from a state of utter bewilderedness, I muttered something about hormones, which made him laugh. He rolled his eyes, looked directly in mine and said, "Really? You think that was bad? Maybe this will be easier than I'd thought."
Only time will tell.
My lip began to quiver. A shaky wail escaped. "You mean I always look this fat?!?"
The road to hell is paved with good intentions...
So, hormones. What lovely little creatures they are. I mean, the only way to describe it is that feeling you get when you're watching the main character in a movie make one of those mistakes that you know could be avoided if everyone would just be open about what they're thinking or feeling (though of course no one ever is) and you know what's happening and how things are about to get hectic and all you want to do is shake them and say, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Except, the problem is that instead of it being a movie, you're watching yourself say the most neurotic things ever in a pitch that resembles the hysteria of a schizophrenic being put under arrest and could be used as damning evidence against you if someone wanted to challenge your competency to make legal decisions about your future. It's PMS 24/7 for nine months. Yayyy...
As BabyCenter.com explains, the surge of hormones your body is experiencing during pregnancy throws the levels of neurotransmitters in your body out of wack, which leaves you susceptible to massive mood swings. Magnifying these mood swings are high levels of anxiety about finances, your ability to be a good parent, and how large you've become.
There are a few strategies you can use to personally regulate your mood swings. The most important thing is to take a step back, breathe and think about what you're getting ready to say. It's pretty good advice on an average day to not speak in anger, but during pregnancy, this advice functions as law. You can take it back and blame it on the baby, but that excuse will get old real fast. Plus, if you can keep breathing on a regular basis, you might be able to avoid some of those massive blow-ups.
Eating right can help control the beast as well. As tempting as it may be to eat an entire box of shortbread cookies in one sitting (I know, I've done it), it doesn't help to stabilize your sugar levels, which can lead to lots and lots of mood swings. Eating foods that are especially rich in B6, such as bananas, peanuts, brown rice, eggs, avocado and whole grains, can help to keep your moods on an even keel, and aid in the development of neurotransmitters for your little one!
Another little piece of advice I would hand out is to be very careful of how you treat your significant other. The boy has begun to recognize when the Dr. Jekyll/Mr.Hyde transformation is about to occur in me, and will head for the hills at the first sign of twitching. He's been the target of one too many outbursts- none of which had any real basis to them- and I may have scarred him for life. Now, he and I had already honed our fighting skills into an art form, so it hasn't caused us to sleep in separate rooms, but in any other couple, I guarantee there'd have been some problems.
Remember, he's just as scared and confused as you are, and an outburst doesn't help to remedy that or the perceived offensive behavior of the moment. Men will wait on you hand and foot during this time period, but be careful not to turn into one of those Evil Stepmother Queens whose mandates are keeping Cinderfella from his Xbox Ball. I'm sure he's willing to go to far fewer of those galas than he used to, but he needs an outlet as well. Don't you forget.
After I had my pity party and my guy recovered from a state of utter bewilderedness, I muttered something about hormones, which made him laugh. He rolled his eyes, looked directly in mine and said, "Really? You think that was bad? Maybe this will be easier than I'd thought."
Only time will tell.
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