It has now been just over two months since I started my Mat. leave. Pretty scary how fast it goes. It is getting dark out sooner, the air has that chill in it. The seasons are changing yet again, and tis the season for my birthday. Tomorrow is the day, that special day that they forced me unwillingly to enter this world. In retrospect, though, I think they made the right decision. I'm glad I'm here. Turning 31 is pretty OKish. Getting over that 30 hump was the worst, I think. I've accepted the fact that I'm getting old. No, not old. Oldish. For me, turning 30 was sad because I felt that my twenties were the best years, or at least, the most exciting: finishing University, getting married, having Gage and Payton, buying our first home. Lots of highs. And now it's all downhill: the excitement of the new house is now replaced with the reality of leaky pipes and mortgage payments. Excitement over the new marriage is now replaced with the reality of an overweight balding husband who gets more excited over football than me, and who has the incredible talent of seeing the negative side of everything. I mean, honestly. Yesterday I asked him if he liked having a stay at home wife. He replied "well, the money sucks." And I was like "but don't you love it that you're laundry is always done and put away (and vanilla meadow scented, by the way), the kitchen is clean at the end of the day (somewhat), your meals are prepared for you, the fridge just magically is perpetually stocked with groceries." I mean, honestly, I would be ecstatic over being married to myself. Really and truly, I'm not normally one to toot my own horn, but consider it tooted. I'm pretty freaking good in the domestic realm. I'm not Martha Stewart, for sure, but nobody can stand her anyways. And who wants pine cone tea cozies, anyways?? But Geoff, he just shrugged, said 'ya, I guess it's all right.' But I guess it's like they say, the grass is always greener on the other side. He probably thinks I have it easy sitting at home all day, not having to go to work. In some ways, he may have a point. Like today, they had this Project Runway Marathon and I got totally addicted to it and watched it ALL DAY. But he doesn't need to know that. That shall remain on a need to know basis and he does not need to know. But still... staying at home is no picnic. Sometimes, at the end of a long day I just feel like an old worn out cow as I roll over to feed my young. Put me out to pasture, I think sometimes.
Another example of him seeing the negative side of things: he refuses to consider my ideas in a positive light. First it was my comedy routine. You know I want to be a stand up comic, and I have a routine all worked out. You would think he would be supportive, right? Wrong. He says that my routine is "painful" and "difficult to watch" and that "I should try really, really hard to hang on to my day job for as long as possible." So then I 'hatched' a new plan: A chicken farm. Right in our back yard. I drew up a blueprint for a chicken coop, bought some chicken wire, crunched the numbers: If we could produce a dozen eggs a day and sell them at a dollar a dozen we could be making upwards of thirty dollars a month! Right away, he says that thirty dollars a month isn't actually very much money, and in fact we would be well below the poverty line. I said that it wasn't too bad when you consider the fact that the chickens are doing all the work. But no. He says it won't work and outright refuses to even try. So then last night, I had a brilliant new idea. The worlds most giantest taco. And he says that the ingredients would probably be really expensive. And I said but "you have to spend money to make money, right?" and he says "but we wouldn't be making any money off of it." And I said "of course we would: royalties from the Guiness Book of World Records". But apparently you don't get royalties from that, but whatever, I said. We would still be famous, anyways, and famous people are rich, aren't they? And besides, it doesn't matter about the money. If you're passionate about doing something you take that leap of faith and do it. I mean, did Van Gough make a ton of money when he painted 'Starry Night'? No, I don't think so. He cut his freaking ear off so I guess times weren't very good, but that certainly didn't stop him, did it? But Geoff just doesn't get it. And then it's like he gets mad at me, when I'm the one coming up with all these innovative ideas. It's like they say, "if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem". Dude, you're part of the problem.
Anyways, onto other issues. Lex is getting big, and he's doing well. It's a funny thing watching your children grow. The moment they are born you look at them and fall so in love and you think "I couldn't possibly love someone more than this" but then two months later they look at you in the morning and just give you this amazing smile, and you realize, you can. You just love them more and more all the time.
Until they start wearing the same socks for three days in a row and refuse to change them.
Then some of the charm wears off. But that's way down the line...
Monday, September 1, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Too much coffee today
So here I am, all strung out on coffee. Let me tell you, I don't usually drink coffee. I'm just not a coffee person. Never really have been, except for a few casual encounters here and there. If anything- one cup. I don't really dig the taste of it, but if I'm tired enough I will chug a cup quickly. But this morning I had company over for coffee (and by company I don't just mean my dog- I mean actual people this time, and if you don't believe me I have the pictures to prove it.), and it ended up that I had three cups of it. Peer pressure, I guess. But that's OK. I've learned that three cups is too much for me, and that's good to know. I'm all hyped up. But that is OK. When you have three kids, being hyped up is not a bad thing.
Lex is already five weeks old. He is doing well, and as you can see- getting bigger. He now tips the scales at just over ten pounds. He is starting to sleep a bit better now- and in fact- last night was his best night ever. He slept from 10-4 and then from 4:30-7:30. So that was good. He is starting to smile a bit now- though he's pretty stingy with the smiles and reserves them mainly for the couch, which seems to amuse him, which I find slightly concerning, but hey, different strokes for different folks, right? If you're into couches, you're into couches. It's cool. And it's not just a couch. It's leather, and you know that leather takes couches to a whole notha leva.
I am adapting well to domestic life. It's not as exciting as my former career. I have yet to see any stab wounds or HIV tests, which isn't a bad thing when you're a stay at home mom, although I could stand to see a little more blood, could do with a few more needles. I just miss that jamming motion. But there are other things to get excited about, I guess. Like the other day I spotted a sale at Wal Mart. Gain on sale for $5 a bottle!! So now I am washing my bedding in Vanilla Meadow. Can't wait to rest my head on my pillow tonight, let me tell you. That is going to be some good sniffing. And I'm also excited about the fact that I have two semi rotten bananas, which I intend to make full use of and make banana chocolate chip muffins for the morning. So that should be an exciting evening for me, and morning as well when I get to eat those delicious little muffins. I might skip the coffee tomorrow, though. Try to dry out for a day or two. You gotta be careful. These addictions can creep up on you. I watch Intervention, so I should know.
And speaking of excitement, yesterday was also a big day for me. I took the kids to see Kung Fu Panda (finally). It was an interesing adventure with a four year old, newborn and 'tween. I don' t think I was the most popular person in the movie theater with Payton's incessant "I need to go the washroom", "I need to wash my hands", "I spilled my drink", "I spilled my popcorn", and Gage's vehement shushing that was louder than Payton ever was and my sweet, shrill voice trying to put the kaibosh on both of them. Anyways, people say that I'm crazy to take three kids to a movie like that. But it's not crazy. It's clever. You see it's a double whammy of motherly weaponry. In the morning, you can use it as a bribe "If you don't smarten up I'm not taking you to the movie!!" And then after the movie, you can use it as a guilt trip: "How dare you talk to me like that when I just took you to a movie!!" I didn't just come in off the turnip truck. I'm getting this motherhood thing down. Not only am I getting it down, I'm pinning it to the ground and making it my bitch.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Settling in and settling down
There was a lot of activity for the last few weeks- starting mat. leave, anticipating the arrival of babe, the induction, the delivery, the homecoming, the visitors, etc. But now we seem to be settling into normal life as a family of five. Generally my days are starting to follow a pattern. The mornings are filled with feeding Lex, changing Lex, feeding Pay, getting Pay dressed, feeding myself, getting myself dressed, then feeding Lex again, then starting lunch. After lunch we generally go on an outing to the park or something to break up the day. Home by two to feed Lex, put him in the swing. Nap time from 3-4, then wake up and start preparing for supper. Not very exciting, but it there is a certain niceness to having a routine. We are even starting to get Payton into a routine of going to bed at 8:30 so that I have some quiet time in the evening. She has been adjusting well to it, amazingly enough.
For myself, at first I struggled a bit with the fact that all the excitement was over and suddenly it was just me alone with three kids and not very much social contact. But I am finding ways of keeping busy- visiting with people, even just going to the park, talking on the phone, internet. It helps to set goals and make plans- having things to look forward to so that the days do not seem so monotonous. I have eleven months of mat leave left and lofty goals:
1. Complete my third novel
2. Continue to try to publish my second novel
3. Try to publish my short story.
4. Take a scrapbooking class
5. Complete a scrapbook for Lex detailing the pregnancy, delivery and early days at home
6. Enroll Payton in dance lessons
7. Paint the upstairs bedrooms
8. Cross stitch something for Lex
9. Take a trip to Calgary to visit Nadine (with Lex)
10. Get involved with the writing community here in Saskatoon and network with other wannabe writers.
Having these goals saves me from insanity. Going from career mom to at home mom is a big change, and I sometimes find the days tedious. There is something rewarding about doing laundry. I love the smell of fresh laundry. BUT, that being said, doing laundry day after day is not very fulfilling or exciting. And speaking of laundry, the other day when I was folding my... shall we say... unmentionables, I noticed (and don't ask my why I read the label, I'm honestly not sure) that on the label it said "wash in cold water, tumble dry, do not iron." And I thought to myself "What kind of a person would iron thier underwear?" But then I started to wonder, is it just me? Am I the only one who walks around in wrinkled panties? I don't even own an iron. I would need to get one. But anyways, what I was saying was that laundry is rewarding in a way, but I need something more... more fun, say. A way of expressing my creativity and also a way of meeting other people with similar interests. It's not easy meeting new people, though. Its something I'm simply not good at. Once I went to a drop in Aquafitness class, thinking I would meet all these other people and I would go every week and have all these Aquafitness friends, and we would eventually wear matching outfits and advance to Synchronized swimming. But, when I went it was mostly fifty something year olds in bathing caps talking about thier bone density and mammograms. Needless to say we did not forge a lifelong bond and my dreams of synchronized swimming went by the wayside, like so many of my other dreams (the chicken farm, or life on the road as a stand up comedian, for example). I'm not sure if I expect much better at Scrapbooking lessons, but a girl can dream.
Anyways, life with three kids is good. I am enjoying it for the most part. It is not glamorous, really, and for the most part I walk around in sweat pants and milk soiled T shirts doling out Apple Juice and wiping noses, but I remind myself to enjoy the little things: the sounds that Lex makes in his sleep, a quiet moment outside with a book, the smell of Lex after a bath (I could sit and smell his head for hours. It's utterly intoxicating.)
But for now, I must go and do the laundry. Again.
For myself, at first I struggled a bit with the fact that all the excitement was over and suddenly it was just me alone with three kids and not very much social contact. But I am finding ways of keeping busy- visiting with people, even just going to the park, talking on the phone, internet. It helps to set goals and make plans- having things to look forward to so that the days do not seem so monotonous. I have eleven months of mat leave left and lofty goals:
1. Complete my third novel
2. Continue to try to publish my second novel
3. Try to publish my short story.
4. Take a scrapbooking class
5. Complete a scrapbook for Lex detailing the pregnancy, delivery and early days at home
6. Enroll Payton in dance lessons
7. Paint the upstairs bedrooms
8. Cross stitch something for Lex
9. Take a trip to Calgary to visit Nadine (with Lex)
10. Get involved with the writing community here in Saskatoon and network with other wannabe writers.
Having these goals saves me from insanity. Going from career mom to at home mom is a big change, and I sometimes find the days tedious. There is something rewarding about doing laundry. I love the smell of fresh laundry. BUT, that being said, doing laundry day after day is not very fulfilling or exciting. And speaking of laundry, the other day when I was folding my... shall we say... unmentionables, I noticed (and don't ask my why I read the label, I'm honestly not sure) that on the label it said "wash in cold water, tumble dry, do not iron." And I thought to myself "What kind of a person would iron thier underwear?" But then I started to wonder, is it just me? Am I the only one who walks around in wrinkled panties? I don't even own an iron. I would need to get one. But anyways, what I was saying was that laundry is rewarding in a way, but I need something more... more fun, say. A way of expressing my creativity and also a way of meeting other people with similar interests. It's not easy meeting new people, though. Its something I'm simply not good at. Once I went to a drop in Aquafitness class, thinking I would meet all these other people and I would go every week and have all these Aquafitness friends, and we would eventually wear matching outfits and advance to Synchronized swimming. But, when I went it was mostly fifty something year olds in bathing caps talking about thier bone density and mammograms. Needless to say we did not forge a lifelong bond and my dreams of synchronized swimming went by the wayside, like so many of my other dreams (the chicken farm, or life on the road as a stand up comedian, for example). I'm not sure if I expect much better at Scrapbooking lessons, but a girl can dream.
Anyways, life with three kids is good. I am enjoying it for the most part. It is not glamorous, really, and for the most part I walk around in sweat pants and milk soiled T shirts doling out Apple Juice and wiping noses, but I remind myself to enjoy the little things: the sounds that Lex makes in his sleep, a quiet moment outside with a book, the smell of Lex after a bath (I could sit and smell his head for hours. It's utterly intoxicating.)
But for now, I must go and do the laundry. Again.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Well, how to sum up labor and delivery... not an easy thing to do in one sentence, but I guess if I had to I would say that "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times" is the best way to put it. I mean, there is no feeling more awesome than pushing a new life into the world, hearing that first cry, coming face to face with the little person that you have loved all along. But then, there is no worse feeling in the world than the force of contractions, the pressure and pain of seven pounds of baby being expelled from the body.
Now, just to be clear, I have not been in labor this whole time since my last post. Mostly I have been sleep deprived and otherwise occupied with a kid on my boob, so that is why I haven't written for some time. Alex Reid Makepeace (Lex) was born on July 11th at 0119 hours. He came into the world in a hurry. Well, sort of...
We got to the hospital at about 10:00. An ultrasound confirmed that his head was down, and so we were set to start the induction process. At 1:45 they gave me the medication to start the induction. I didn't know what to expect. I was told it could take days. But it was almost immediately afterwards that the contractions began. Things were fairly textbook for the first several hours, slow and steady progress. At 9:00 pm I was 3cm and fairly uncomfortable, so they gave me some morphine and then I went into the tub. I was in the tub until 11, and while I was in there the contractions were fairly tolerable. As soon as I got out they were noticably worse. Much, much worse. They checked me and I was 6cm, so at that point they moved me over to labor and delivery and got me set up with an epidural. After that it was like labor on speed. Things just got crazy fast. I waited for the pain to lessen, but it continually got worse. Then I started feeling pressure. And then I was pushing despite myself. The nurse kept telling me not to push, but I just couldn't stop. I was laying on my side, all curled up, and she wanted me to move on my back. I honestly felt as though I could not move, but finally she managed to get me on my back so she could check me. As soon as I rolled on my back, there was this gush of fluid and I could feel that little head coming. That's when I lost control and the screaming started. The nurse said "I guess I don't need to check you, the head is crowning." So then there was chaos, doctors rushing in, instruments being set up in haste, and then all of a sudden, there he was. A perfect little round face, a healthy pink hue and a good set of lungs. How to describe those first few moments with him... well, there simply are no words for it. I still look at him sometimes and just can't believe it... can't believe that he's here, that he's ours, that he's so beautiful. He's wonderful, and I just know when I look at him that I have everything I've ever wanted in life: three beautiful children to love. And as tired as I can get sometimes, I never get tired of being a mom. It's truly a blessing.
Now, just to be clear, I have not been in labor this whole time since my last post. Mostly I have been sleep deprived and otherwise occupied with a kid on my boob, so that is why I haven't written for some time. Alex Reid Makepeace (Lex) was born on July 11th at 0119 hours. He came into the world in a hurry. Well, sort of...
We got to the hospital at about 10:00. An ultrasound confirmed that his head was down, and so we were set to start the induction process. At 1:45 they gave me the medication to start the induction. I didn't know what to expect. I was told it could take days. But it was almost immediately afterwards that the contractions began. Things were fairly textbook for the first several hours, slow and steady progress. At 9:00 pm I was 3cm and fairly uncomfortable, so they gave me some morphine and then I went into the tub. I was in the tub until 11, and while I was in there the contractions were fairly tolerable. As soon as I got out they were noticably worse. Much, much worse. They checked me and I was 6cm, so at that point they moved me over to labor and delivery and got me set up with an epidural. After that it was like labor on speed. Things just got crazy fast. I waited for the pain to lessen, but it continually got worse. Then I started feeling pressure. And then I was pushing despite myself. The nurse kept telling me not to push, but I just couldn't stop. I was laying on my side, all curled up, and she wanted me to move on my back. I honestly felt as though I could not move, but finally she managed to get me on my back so she could check me. As soon as I rolled on my back, there was this gush of fluid and I could feel that little head coming. That's when I lost control and the screaming started. The nurse said "I guess I don't need to check you, the head is crowning." So then there was chaos, doctors rushing in, instruments being set up in haste, and then all of a sudden, there he was. A perfect little round face, a healthy pink hue and a good set of lungs. How to describe those first few moments with him... well, there simply are no words for it. I still look at him sometimes and just can't believe it... can't believe that he's here, that he's ours, that he's so beautiful. He's wonderful, and I just know when I look at him that I have everything I've ever wanted in life: three beautiful children to love. And as tired as I can get sometimes, I never get tired of being a mom. It's truly a blessing.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The best laid plans...
It all started with the Slurpee on Tuesday. I went to the store, more or less just to go for a little stroll. So I got a Slurpee when I was there. The lady in front of me was scanning every single lottery ticket she probably ever bought since 1999. Not only that, but the woman working the till was commenting on every single ticket and conversing to a degree that I felt was excessive given the fast growing lineup. All I had was a Slurpee so I put a toonie on the counter and said that I didn't need my change nor a receipt. She said "You have to wait in line like everyone else," and I reiterated that I didn't need the receipt, and she said all snarky like "It DOEST"T WORK that way". So I put my slurpee down on the counter and said "I'm not going to wait in line for half an hour just to buy a slurpee. I simply don't need it that bad." And I walked out. I am not usually a contraversial person. Not at all, Not in the least. If anything, I'm overly accomadating, people that know me can verify this. If, say, someone cooked something that was terrible tasting, I would eat it just to be polite, even if it actually made me vomit later. This actually happened once. But this time I took a stand. It was an important isssue, I simply wasn't going to let it pass. It felt pretty good. I had a glass of Crystal Light when I got home, which was refreshing all the same and less calories.
That was an ordeal, but I got over it. Little did I know that another ordeal was looming on the horizon, somewhat similar to the Slurpee ordeal but on a far grander scale. Wednesday morning started off well. ("Today's the Day!" I announced as the alarm sounded). We got to the hospital, were seen straight away by the doc, she performed a fairly painful but ultimately successful procedure to turn the baby head down, I was put into a room on Antepartum and hooked to a monitor. They were calling my GP to get the induction started.
And then it just all went to hell. A nurse comes in and just like that informs me that they're discharging me because there aren't enough beds on the unit. I was so upset. How could they do that? They said they'll plan to induce the following day, but I was like "Oh, and this baby's gonna stay like this for twenty four hours?" Highly unlikely. So I basically went through that horrible procedure for no reason at all whatsoever. I'm basically 99% sure that the baby has turned now into a COMPLETELY different position, and that was the whole point in inducing me the same day as the version. But there's no reasoning with those people, they're even less sympathetic than the crazy slurpee Nazi, basically it's "you're turfed. We don't care if you end up needing a CSection or whatever. Bad timing. Toodles." I was bawling. I mean, here I thought we were having our baby, and instead, I was going home. And they can't give me any kind of gauruntees for tomorrow. If there's room on the unit tomorrow they'll call me. If the baby's head is still down they'll induce me. If not, they may try turning it again but it depends, if they don't then they may plan a C Section or then again maybe not, it all depends on which doctors are there and bla bla blah. I'm frustrated. Extremely.
And yet, what can I do? I guess I'll just have to hope for the best tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow at this time I will be having my baby or close to it, but I don't hold out much hope at this point. Life sucks sometimes, first you don't get your slurpee and then you don't get to have your baby. Anyways, gotta go and try to sleep. Tomorrow's a big day. Maybe.
That was an ordeal, but I got over it. Little did I know that another ordeal was looming on the horizon, somewhat similar to the Slurpee ordeal but on a far grander scale. Wednesday morning started off well. ("Today's the Day!" I announced as the alarm sounded). We got to the hospital, were seen straight away by the doc, she performed a fairly painful but ultimately successful procedure to turn the baby head down, I was put into a room on Antepartum and hooked to a monitor. They were calling my GP to get the induction started.
And then it just all went to hell. A nurse comes in and just like that informs me that they're discharging me because there aren't enough beds on the unit. I was so upset. How could they do that? They said they'll plan to induce the following day, but I was like "Oh, and this baby's gonna stay like this for twenty four hours?" Highly unlikely. So I basically went through that horrible procedure for no reason at all whatsoever. I'm basically 99% sure that the baby has turned now into a COMPLETELY different position, and that was the whole point in inducing me the same day as the version. But there's no reasoning with those people, they're even less sympathetic than the crazy slurpee Nazi, basically it's "you're turfed. We don't care if you end up needing a CSection or whatever. Bad timing. Toodles." I was bawling. I mean, here I thought we were having our baby, and instead, I was going home. And they can't give me any kind of gauruntees for tomorrow. If there's room on the unit tomorrow they'll call me. If the baby's head is still down they'll induce me. If not, they may try turning it again but it depends, if they don't then they may plan a C Section or then again maybe not, it all depends on which doctors are there and bla bla blah. I'm frustrated. Extremely.
And yet, what can I do? I guess I'll just have to hope for the best tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow at this time I will be having my baby or close to it, but I don't hold out much hope at this point. Life sucks sometimes, first you don't get your slurpee and then you don't get to have your baby. Anyways, gotta go and try to sleep. Tomorrow's a big day. Maybe.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Times Up
Looks like tomorrow is the big day. The baby is gotten itself into some kind of a crazy position, and they were going to try to turn it twice last week, but it moves so much still that they decided not to bother trying until they could do it in conjunction with a planned induction. So tommorow I go to the hospital at 8:00 and they will try to turn the baby so it's head is down. Once they get it turned, they will induce me into labor so that the baby will hopefully be born before it decides to move again. It seems crazy. At first, I was all excited, thinking "I'll get to meet and hold my baby soon". But now the mix of emotions is complex.
It just seems as though the entire pregnancy has gone entirely too quickly. I can still recall being in the lab at work and peering at a pregnancy test at an odd angle, trying to determine whether it was positive or negative. I tried to quell the stirring of excitement, thinking it was probably negative and I was just imagining the line. A blood test would settle it. So I asked the nurse practioner to draw a tube of blood from me. Nice thing about working with docs and that. So she did and I sent the blood away, awaiting a result. I was expecting the result to be negative. But when I checked my faxes a little later, there it was: Randine Sorowski Makepeace: Beta HcG: 12.
So then my heart does a little flutter, because it's positive!!! But then my heart sinks a bit, because 12 is a ridiculously low number. Here we go again, I think. Another failing pregnancy. But a subsequent reading three days later was in the thousands!! The baby was thriving. At that point the pregnancy stretched before me, it was early November and I wasn't due until July. But the time has flown. Weeks turn into months, and now here I am, mere hours away from (potentially) coming face to face with the little person inside of me. The little person who I have grown so familiar with as it lives and moves within me. The pregnancy has been so wonderful, I think especially so since it was so very wanted for such a long time. Everything was such a high point. Like my first ultrasound, I was so nervous I thought I might puke. But when I saw the little jelly bean on the screen, with a great heartbeat, I was so elated. And then when I was at the end of the first trimester, I used to take the Doppler home from work on the weekends and listen to the baby's hear beating. I could listen to it for so long and never get sick of it.
So tonight as I look at my baby bump, I feel some sadness that soon it will be no more. Well, I suppose the bump will still be there in some shape or form. But no more hiccuping. No more little squirming or nudging. And what makes this particularly sad for me is that I know I will never experience these sensations again.
Am I nervous for tomorrow? Not really. I feel ready. I began this blog on the fifth of January, 2007 as I began this journey. In the meantime, there have been 135 entries, probably as many pregnancy tests, eleven ultrasounds, many laughs and a few tears. The journey has been longer than I expected it would be, but I don't know that I would change it, because it makes this moment in time even more special for me. Tears fall freely from my face as I even try to imagine holding my baby and knowing that he or she is finally here! At times it seemed it seemed impossible and at times we were ready to give up. But now, Times Up. I am ready to begin a new journey as a new mother once again.
It just seems as though the entire pregnancy has gone entirely too quickly. I can still recall being in the lab at work and peering at a pregnancy test at an odd angle, trying to determine whether it was positive or negative. I tried to quell the stirring of excitement, thinking it was probably negative and I was just imagining the line. A blood test would settle it. So I asked the nurse practioner to draw a tube of blood from me. Nice thing about working with docs and that. So she did and I sent the blood away, awaiting a result. I was expecting the result to be negative. But when I checked my faxes a little later, there it was: Randine Sorowski Makepeace: Beta HcG: 12.
So then my heart does a little flutter, because it's positive!!! But then my heart sinks a bit, because 12 is a ridiculously low number. Here we go again, I think. Another failing pregnancy. But a subsequent reading three days later was in the thousands!! The baby was thriving. At that point the pregnancy stretched before me, it was early November and I wasn't due until July. But the time has flown. Weeks turn into months, and now here I am, mere hours away from (potentially) coming face to face with the little person inside of me. The little person who I have grown so familiar with as it lives and moves within me. The pregnancy has been so wonderful, I think especially so since it was so very wanted for such a long time. Everything was such a high point. Like my first ultrasound, I was so nervous I thought I might puke. But when I saw the little jelly bean on the screen, with a great heartbeat, I was so elated. And then when I was at the end of the first trimester, I used to take the Doppler home from work on the weekends and listen to the baby's hear beating. I could listen to it for so long and never get sick of it.
So tonight as I look at my baby bump, I feel some sadness that soon it will be no more. Well, I suppose the bump will still be there in some shape or form. But no more hiccuping. No more little squirming or nudging. And what makes this particularly sad for me is that I know I will never experience these sensations again.
Am I nervous for tomorrow? Not really. I feel ready. I began this blog on the fifth of January, 2007 as I began this journey. In the meantime, there have been 135 entries, probably as many pregnancy tests, eleven ultrasounds, many laughs and a few tears. The journey has been longer than I expected it would be, but I don't know that I would change it, because it makes this moment in time even more special for me. Tears fall freely from my face as I even try to imagine holding my baby and knowing that he or she is finally here! At times it seemed it seemed impossible and at times we were ready to give up. But now, Times Up. I am ready to begin a new journey as a new mother once again.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
32 Weeks
32 Weeks, things are moving along. Me, I am mostly waddling along at this point. I fear that this is going to be a big baby indeed. I'm usually a fairly small preggo person, but with this one it seems like all hell is breaking loose. My weight gain is basically on track, and I measure normally, if anything its on the low end of normal, but still my stomach seems like it could not get much bigger. I'm feeling pretty good, though. A little tired here and there but overally pretty OK. I was at the doctor on Monday and it was good. The baby is still sideways, so she said if doesn't move by my next appointment then we'll talk about what the implications are. I think it will move, though. I've never had problems like that before, so I think it'll be a breeze like last time. When Payton was born it just seemed crazy that you could have a baby and feel 100% before, during and after labor! The labor was just so textbook. I woke up at three a.m, gripped by pain. I shook Geoff awake "it's time to go to the hospital," just like in the movies! By the time we got there I was a cool 4cm, so they put in the epidural straight away. After that it was all smooth sailing, popsicles, ginger ale and Jello.
Well, I'm still aways away from that point, but I have one month left of work, and I am starting to try to slowly organize things a bit for my departure. It is weird that is coming so fast. At first I thought I might miss this place, but now I think I'll be like "so long, suckers!"
Things at home are fairly swell. The van is having some more issues, and is in the shop once again. Hopefully the repairs will not be expensive this time nor take too long. It's hard to say. I've definately been cursed. Whenever we have some cash on hand, things go awry. We have some extra cash now and what happens: first Geoff gets a traffic ticket (don't ask, he's a dumb ass), and then the cat goes in heat so we have to get her fixed, and then the van starts overheating. This is exactly what happened before when we happened upon some extra money when I got my retro pay. The muffler fell off my van and then the damn dog starting vomiting bile and landed up in the vet for three days on IV and needing exploratory surgery. Damn dog. All she does is lay around and yap.
Spring is in the air, and the weather is finally getting better. I don't have the garden in yet, mostly because I don't have a garden, so that seems to be a problem. I do have a flower bed, though, and am thinking of planting some flowers maybe this weekend. Last year I had some good success with petunias and snapdragons. So I shall try that again. I guess I really am getting old because I'm starting to enjoy stuff like that more. Also, I notice that the young folk are different these days. Today, a patient comes into see the doc wearing a shirt that says "Free Breathalizer. Blow Below" and it had an arrow pointing down to-- well, I'll let you guess which body part, but let me say that it was in rather poor taste. Why one would wear such a shirt at all is beyond me, and further more, to a place of business! Give your head a shake buddy. I might have thought that was cool when I was 14. And he wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man. Honestly. Some people just never grow up.
Well, I'm still aways away from that point, but I have one month left of work, and I am starting to try to slowly organize things a bit for my departure. It is weird that is coming so fast. At first I thought I might miss this place, but now I think I'll be like "so long, suckers!"
Things at home are fairly swell. The van is having some more issues, and is in the shop once again. Hopefully the repairs will not be expensive this time nor take too long. It's hard to say. I've definately been cursed. Whenever we have some cash on hand, things go awry. We have some extra cash now and what happens: first Geoff gets a traffic ticket (don't ask, he's a dumb ass), and then the cat goes in heat so we have to get her fixed, and then the van starts overheating. This is exactly what happened before when we happened upon some extra money when I got my retro pay. The muffler fell off my van and then the damn dog starting vomiting bile and landed up in the vet for three days on IV and needing exploratory surgery. Damn dog. All she does is lay around and yap.
Spring is in the air, and the weather is finally getting better. I don't have the garden in yet, mostly because I don't have a garden, so that seems to be a problem. I do have a flower bed, though, and am thinking of planting some flowers maybe this weekend. Last year I had some good success with petunias and snapdragons. So I shall try that again. I guess I really am getting old because I'm starting to enjoy stuff like that more. Also, I notice that the young folk are different these days. Today, a patient comes into see the doc wearing a shirt that says "Free Breathalizer. Blow Below" and it had an arrow pointing down to-- well, I'll let you guess which body part, but let me say that it was in rather poor taste. Why one would wear such a shirt at all is beyond me, and further more, to a place of business! Give your head a shake buddy. I might have thought that was cool when I was 14. And he wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man. Honestly. Some people just never grow up.
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