Dear Little Person,
I took a little hiatus from bed rest this morning to go with your dad to meet your doctor. Your dad did all the research and I agreed with his preliminary choice, so we were really hoping that this guy would be the one. His name is Jim Kurz, and he’s great. He has four kids of his own, and he’s worked in public health settings in the past. His office is close by and not especially fancy. There are signs up prohibiting cell phone use in the “clinical area” – whatever that is. I like that. He has gregorian chant playing softly over the sound system. I like that too. One of the other pretty cool things about him is that he’s board certified in both internal medicine and pediatrics. Thus, he can see the whole family. I won’t be going to him because I have insurance through the school, and thus, must see university health providers. But your dad is going to switch over to seeing him; so he’ll know the family health history. He seemed reasonable, personable, and kind. I hope you like him.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
First full day of bedrest. Yuck.
Hi Munchkin,
Today I am working from the couch - trying to help the Civil Rights Moot Court team, not knowing why they aren't writing their briefs for competition, and reading an interesting yet boring book on parents rights (for my paper). After seeing the doctor yesterday I was really pretty confident that this was no big deal, and I really thought that after a day at home and resting I'd have the effects of the Las Vegas trip behind me and I'd feel normal. But alas, I really don't feel normal. I've been up very little but am still feeling short of breath and have still had some spotty vision. I poked around on the internet a little bit and read the handout from the doctor, and I realize that it's not that unlikely that I could have preeclampsia and that while it is dangerous and has to be monitored closely, it isn't at all uncommon and it wouldn't be such a shock or such a horrible thing if I had it.
Apparently, about 6 to 8% of pregnant women have preeclampsia. It is also more likely to occur during first pregnancies than later pregnancies. The cause is unknown and while obese women and women with chronic hypertension are at higher risk for it, they are by no means the only expected candidates. It's also not surprising that I haven't felt all that bad. According to one site I've found, "if you have mild preeclampsia, you may not have any symptoms and may feel perfectly well."
Treatment depends on how close you are to your due date. Since we are due in 23 days (yikes, can you believe it?) we could be pretty confident that you'd be okay. But the doctor said yesterday that for little boys, it's really better to try to get at least to 38 weeks because boys lung development seems to happen a little more slowly than girls, so it's best to let you cook. Still, that means that on our appointment next Tuesday, we could be looking at scheduling an induction because delivery of the baby is the best treatment. I really, really don't want that, and as long as it does not become too severe, we could keep you in there until you decide to pop out naturally by resting in bed, lying on my left side as much as possible to take the weight off of you and my major blood vessels, having more frequent checkups (more frequent than weekly? Jimminy Cricket!), eating less salt, and drinking lots of water.
I have my feet literally up, even though they don't look swollen to me. I can't put my wedding ring on - not even the slightly larger than normal substitute ring I've been wearing, but I still look normal (at least, normal for a 9.5 month pregnant lady). I do manage to sleep long and hard, unlike most pregnant people, but to my mind, unless it really means that you are in danger, that's hardly a symptom - it's a blessing! Mostly, I just don't feel like we're ready, and I want to be ready.
Today I am working from the couch - trying to help the Civil Rights Moot Court team, not knowing why they aren't writing their briefs for competition, and reading an interesting yet boring book on parents rights (for my paper). After seeing the doctor yesterday I was really pretty confident that this was no big deal, and I really thought that after a day at home and resting I'd have the effects of the Las Vegas trip behind me and I'd feel normal. But alas, I really don't feel normal. I've been up very little but am still feeling short of breath and have still had some spotty vision. I poked around on the internet a little bit and read the handout from the doctor, and I realize that it's not that unlikely that I could have preeclampsia and that while it is dangerous and has to be monitored closely, it isn't at all uncommon and it wouldn't be such a shock or such a horrible thing if I had it.
Apparently, about 6 to 8% of pregnant women have preeclampsia. It is also more likely to occur during first pregnancies than later pregnancies. The cause is unknown and while obese women and women with chronic hypertension are at higher risk for it, they are by no means the only expected candidates. It's also not surprising that I haven't felt all that bad. According to one site I've found, "if you have mild preeclampsia, you may not have any symptoms and may feel perfectly well."
Treatment depends on how close you are to your due date. Since we are due in 23 days (yikes, can you believe it?) we could be pretty confident that you'd be okay. But the doctor said yesterday that for little boys, it's really better to try to get at least to 38 weeks because boys lung development seems to happen a little more slowly than girls, so it's best to let you cook. Still, that means that on our appointment next Tuesday, we could be looking at scheduling an induction because delivery of the baby is the best treatment. I really, really don't want that, and as long as it does not become too severe, we could keep you in there until you decide to pop out naturally by resting in bed, lying on my left side as much as possible to take the weight off of you and my major blood vessels, having more frequent checkups (more frequent than weekly? Jimminy Cricket!), eating less salt, and drinking lots of water.
I have my feet literally up, even though they don't look swollen to me. I can't put my wedding ring on - not even the slightly larger than normal substitute ring I've been wearing, but I still look normal (at least, normal for a 9.5 month pregnant lady). I do manage to sleep long and hard, unlike most pregnant people, but to my mind, unless it really means that you are in danger, that's hardly a symptom - it's a blessing! Mostly, I just don't feel like we're ready, and I want to be ready.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Bedrest
Hey Little One,
Your dad and I got back from Las Vegas last night and went to the doctor this afternoon for our check-up. We are going to have check-ups a lot more often now, as our due date gets close. For the first time, all was not well today. Nothing is seriously amiss, but our doctor did say that I needed to spend this week resting. She said to "be a princess." She said to let other people do things for me and to generally spend the week reclining. She also said to give up my processed foods (alas, no more french onion soup) and drink a lot of water. They are watching for preeclampsia. I've had some spotting in front of my eyes, some light-headedness, a lot of sudden swelling, a jump in blood pressure, and a big sudden weight gain. I'm not really that uncomfortable and would not have thought to go in if we didn't already have this appointment scheduled. But they gave me a handout on preeclampsia and explained that there are a few other symptoms I should be on the lookout for, explained that it's important to keep it under control, and that if it were to get bad, you'd have to be born early. As much as I've griped about wishing it were time for you to come, I know that's not what's best for you, so we want to prevent that. So, up go our feet for the week. I still get to go to our showers, though, and I think that will be a lot of fun. It's so wonderful to know that the people who love us are getting excited about your birth too!
Love, Mom
Your dad and I got back from Las Vegas last night and went to the doctor this afternoon for our check-up. We are going to have check-ups a lot more often now, as our due date gets close. For the first time, all was not well today. Nothing is seriously amiss, but our doctor did say that I needed to spend this week resting. She said to "be a princess." She said to let other people do things for me and to generally spend the week reclining. She also said to give up my processed foods (alas, no more french onion soup) and drink a lot of water. They are watching for preeclampsia. I've had some spotting in front of my eyes, some light-headedness, a lot of sudden swelling, a jump in blood pressure, and a big sudden weight gain. I'm not really that uncomfortable and would not have thought to go in if we didn't already have this appointment scheduled. But they gave me a handout on preeclampsia and explained that there are a few other symptoms I should be on the lookout for, explained that it's important to keep it under control, and that if it were to get bad, you'd have to be born early. As much as I've griped about wishing it were time for you to come, I know that's not what's best for you, so we want to prevent that. So, up go our feet for the week. I still get to go to our showers, though, and I think that will be a lot of fun. It's so wonderful to know that the people who love us are getting excited about your birth too!
Love, Mom
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Hey Man,
I write to you from Las Vegas, Nevada. Your Dad and I are here for your grandfather’s consecration. We arrived yesterday, and I am officially miserable. It’s the New Year now, and somehow, entering the New Year, and the anticipated month of your birth has made complete my utter physical discomfort. There are a number of reasons that I’m especially uncomfortable now. First is that yesterday, your dad and I took a brief flight from Raleigh to Atlanta, then a 4½ hour flight from Atlanta to Las Vegas. That was really uncomfortable for me. I take up a lot more space than I used to, and I couldn’t get comfortable. It was also a particularly dehydrating experience in and of itself, and we are now in Las Vegas, which is a desert. I can feel the skin on my hands, face, and body pulled tight.
Today, we drove around Red Rock Canyon – a national conservation site. It was really gorgeous. Then, we had lunch at a Summerlin area Whole Foods. The point of that was to see where your grandparents are planning to shop for a house. Throughout the day, I’ve been uncomfortable. I don’t feel good standing because I’m massive and get out of breath easily; I don’t like sitting because my ribs settle down onto my massive belly and press down. The belly can’t move because it runs into my legs. If I sit at a table I can’t get close to it because the belly keeps me from scooting the chair in; if I sit in a car, I’m forced to have normal posture, which exacerbates the leg/belly/rib pressure thing, which in turn makes it hard to breathe. I find that I’m generally just tired, which is partially dehydration and jet lag, but it is also significantly caused by the enormous difficulty I have negotiating this body through the environment.
The other bummer is that your dad is fighting against some kind of mysterious low-grade bug. He felt bad over the weekend; then he pulled an all-nighter in order to finish some important work to get ready for paternity leave, which given his already compromised health may not have been genius. On the other hand, I’m really grateful for his current zeal because it means that when you arrive, the chances are a lot better that our bonding time with you won’t get interrupted by foster care work. For now, he continues to feel intermittently tired, achy, and light headed. Tonight we’re staying in watching the Sugar Bowl, so maybe that will help. I was certainly grateful for the company in a nap earlier this afternoon.
I write to you from Las Vegas, Nevada. Your Dad and I are here for your grandfather’s consecration. We arrived yesterday, and I am officially miserable. It’s the New Year now, and somehow, entering the New Year, and the anticipated month of your birth has made complete my utter physical discomfort. There are a number of reasons that I’m especially uncomfortable now. First is that yesterday, your dad and I took a brief flight from Raleigh to Atlanta, then a 4½ hour flight from Atlanta to Las Vegas. That was really uncomfortable for me. I take up a lot more space than I used to, and I couldn’t get comfortable. It was also a particularly dehydrating experience in and of itself, and we are now in Las Vegas, which is a desert. I can feel the skin on my hands, face, and body pulled tight.
Today, we drove around Red Rock Canyon – a national conservation site. It was really gorgeous. Then, we had lunch at a Summerlin area Whole Foods. The point of that was to see where your grandparents are planning to shop for a house. Throughout the day, I’ve been uncomfortable. I don’t feel good standing because I’m massive and get out of breath easily; I don’t like sitting because my ribs settle down onto my massive belly and press down. The belly can’t move because it runs into my legs. If I sit at a table I can’t get close to it because the belly keeps me from scooting the chair in; if I sit in a car, I’m forced to have normal posture, which exacerbates the leg/belly/rib pressure thing, which in turn makes it hard to breathe. I find that I’m generally just tired, which is partially dehydration and jet lag, but it is also significantly caused by the enormous difficulty I have negotiating this body through the environment.
The other bummer is that your dad is fighting against some kind of mysterious low-grade bug. He felt bad over the weekend; then he pulled an all-nighter in order to finish some important work to get ready for paternity leave, which given his already compromised health may not have been genius. On the other hand, I’m really grateful for his current zeal because it means that when you arrive, the chances are a lot better that our bonding time with you won’t get interrupted by foster care work. For now, he continues to feel intermittently tired, achy, and light headed. Tonight we’re staying in watching the Sugar Bowl, so maybe that will help. I was certainly grateful for the company in a nap earlier this afternoon.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
According to the sure baby website, this week of pregnancy, you are about 20 - 20 1/2 inches long and weigh about 6 pounds. During this finishing period of your development, fat is being laid down under the surface of your skin, which will help you maintain an even body temperature and which can be burned as energy. Your growth has slowed, perhaps to conserve energy for the birth process. Your arms and legs are beginning to dimple at the elbows and knees, and creases are forming around the wrists and neck as fat deposit continues. You kick all the time and it’s wonderful. Our doctor has instructed us to do “kick counts.” That’s the exercise of counting to make sure I feel you move in some way at least 4 times an hour. You move that much in about 4 minutes. Your toes rarely penetrate my ribs anymore, which I simultaneously appreciate and miss. Weird.
I've lost my appetite, which I’m glad for because I had gotten pretty nervous about weight gain. I weighed myself at Katie and Scott’s the other day and I weighed 160.8lbs, which is exactly a pound a week. That’s what the doctors like to see, so I’m pleased with it. I continue to have strange painful sensations that might be Braxton Hicks contractions, might be ligament pain, or might be just the weirdness of pregnancy. Again, I’m sometimes grateful for them because I think of them as my body’s preparatory process, but sometimes they make me nervous because I don’t know what they are. I have become chronically short of breath, and found myself really wanting to sit down during the Christmas Eve service at Bethel UMC the other night, but still, that’s totally normal and it doesn’t bother me much. Mostly, I still feel good.
In case you’re wondering why I’m not calling you Jonah these last couple of posts, your dad and I are back on the naming search. As of last night, we think Joshua may win the spot as your first name. I still don’t know. I really like Jeremiah, too. Still, nothing feels “right.” It’s very strange to name a person you’ve never met. We’re pretty sure we’re not going to be able to settle on anything until we meet you.
I've lost my appetite, which I’m glad for because I had gotten pretty nervous about weight gain. I weighed myself at Katie and Scott’s the other day and I weighed 160.8lbs, which is exactly a pound a week. That’s what the doctors like to see, so I’m pleased with it. I continue to have strange painful sensations that might be Braxton Hicks contractions, might be ligament pain, or might be just the weirdness of pregnancy. Again, I’m sometimes grateful for them because I think of them as my body’s preparatory process, but sometimes they make me nervous because I don’t know what they are. I have become chronically short of breath, and found myself really wanting to sit down during the Christmas Eve service at Bethel UMC the other night, but still, that’s totally normal and it doesn’t bother me much. Mostly, I still feel good.
In case you’re wondering why I’m not calling you Jonah these last couple of posts, your dad and I are back on the naming search. As of last night, we think Joshua may win the spot as your first name. I still don’t know. I really like Jeremiah, too. Still, nothing feels “right.” It’s very strange to name a person you’ve never met. We’re pretty sure we’re not going to be able to settle on anything until we meet you.
I think I’ve moved through the super-moody stage. I was feeling moody during the Thanksgiving through exams period, but nothing feels all that important now. This morning your dad realized that we left the light on in the Volvo while we were out of town for the last week, and when he came into the bedroom to tell me, I didn’t even open an eye to tell him “I don’t really need to go anywhere today; just take the Saturn.” I do have little button issues, though. Like this morning I realized that Dinah (the cat) has been trying to make the co-sleeper her home. No way am I letting that happen! The thing is, since nothing feels that important, it’s hard for me to motivate myself to finish the important work that lies before me.
I’m struggling with this paper and I want it DONE. It’s getting better, which is nice, but it’s getting shorter, which is not nice. I have a lot of theoretical work to do and it’s tough to plow through all the work that has been done already in my quest to do something original. Other things that need to get done include the folding and putting away of laundry that your dad did before we left for the holidays, and doing more laundry. I also would REALLY love to get this salmon color off the walls. Now that we have new furniture, I think a nice light to medium brown would be much better. Calmer, too. I’m still trying to get good curtains up – curtains that will keep the cold out – which seems impossible. It’s also time for D the gifted apartment cleaner to come and make the path straight around here – literally. He’s really good at dealing with clutter. And your bedroom – jeez, I won’t even start that discussion. I try to take it one thing (the paper, for now) at a time, but I look around me and it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever finish. That’s the fatigue part. I understand that this is normal – in these, the last 35 days of pregnancy. According to the “sure baby” website, it’s normal to experience more fluctuations in energy this month. Fatigue is experienced by most pregnant women, but this month, fatigue alternates with periods of extra energy. I wonder what the biological purpose is for the extra energy. Am I supposed to use it on laundry? I’ve been using it on holiday travel.
There’s too much traveling going on and there has been little time to reflect these days. Soon we’ll be in Nevada with my parents; we’ve just returned from Bishopville, SC visiting Big G and Lolly. On our way there, we visited John, a family therapist who your dad used to do a good bit of work with. We came because your father continues to question whether it’s our path to move back to SC and to try to make a difference here. I’m of little help to him because I have promised that I’ll give it a try if he feels the need to do that. I would need to finish my JD first, and might even do the coursework for a Ph.D. in Chapel Hill, but after that, I could dissertate from there (in theory).
I’m struggling with this paper and I want it DONE. It’s getting better, which is nice, but it’s getting shorter, which is not nice. I have a lot of theoretical work to do and it’s tough to plow through all the work that has been done already in my quest to do something original. Other things that need to get done include the folding and putting away of laundry that your dad did before we left for the holidays, and doing more laundry. I also would REALLY love to get this salmon color off the walls. Now that we have new furniture, I think a nice light to medium brown would be much better. Calmer, too. I’m still trying to get good curtains up – curtains that will keep the cold out – which seems impossible. It’s also time for D the gifted apartment cleaner to come and make the path straight around here – literally. He’s really good at dealing with clutter. And your bedroom – jeez, I won’t even start that discussion. I try to take it one thing (the paper, for now) at a time, but I look around me and it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever finish. That’s the fatigue part. I understand that this is normal – in these, the last 35 days of pregnancy. According to the “sure baby” website, it’s normal to experience more fluctuations in energy this month. Fatigue is experienced by most pregnant women, but this month, fatigue alternates with periods of extra energy. I wonder what the biological purpose is for the extra energy. Am I supposed to use it on laundry? I’ve been using it on holiday travel.
There’s too much traveling going on and there has been little time to reflect these days. Soon we’ll be in Nevada with my parents; we’ve just returned from Bishopville, SC visiting Big G and Lolly. On our way there, we visited John, a family therapist who your dad used to do a good bit of work with. We came because your father continues to question whether it’s our path to move back to SC and to try to make a difference here. I’m of little help to him because I have promised that I’ll give it a try if he feels the need to do that. I would need to finish my JD first, and might even do the coursework for a Ph.D. in Chapel Hill, but after that, I could dissertate from there (in theory).
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
One of our friends points out that horomones may impact how much I cry and how wrecked I feel; your dad points out that there are also many layers to the crying I've been doing. I feel guilty over being pregnant while J and B grieve; I am afraid of what this will do to our close friendship with B and J; I am terrified that something similar will happen to you (although, you have an excellent chance of survival if you were born today); I feel helpless because even though we want to be B and J's close supports, your dad and I - in our pregnantness - are probably in the worst place to be helpful or supportive to them now.
I feel a little better having heard your dad give voice to all these things that I know to be true, and several other reasons - I'm less embarrassed about all my crying and feeling depressed. I was feeling ashamed of my grief because, after all, it's not my loss. I have all that anyone could ask. I am now 8.5 months pregnant and the little soul inside of me is healthy and active. Last night at the funeral, I felt especially ashamed of myself because J and B were holding it together better than I was. People from the church who were waiting to comfort B and J paused to comfort and check on me - which felt strangely supportive, even though I was embarrassed and wished I didn't have a 30lb basketball sitting on the front of my body pointing out how much I have and how cruel B's and J's fate has been.
I'm surprised at how much better I feel since the funeral is over. It was a 1/2 Episcopal, 1/2 Quaker funeral - I liked the Quaker sitting - a big surprise to me, since normally, I cannot abide sitting still and being quiet while nothing happens. The entire thing was meaningful. Your dad was asked to read Psalm 90, there was a single line of a Gospel read, and one Psalm was read in unison. Most of the readings were secular - and oh so appropriate. I felt like a lot of the things that were going on with them got acknowledged outloud, and some of the things that were going on with me got acknowledged too. I cried a good bit more - the ugly blubbering kind - after the funeral, when we were in the privacy of our own car and I didn't have to be embarrassed about my bugle impersonating noseblowing. But after that, I was just exhausted, and now, I feel almost human.
I don't know what it is to grieve such a shocking loss. It's one thing to lose a grandparent or to split up with a boyfriend; but there are some losses that you can't prepare for or ever be the same after. B and J have experienced that sort of loss. There's no way to explain it or to give it meaning - if they are able to find meaning in this they will have accomplished yet another miracle. I consider it a miracle that they managed to put one foot in front of another thus far.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Dear Jonah,
I wrote you a post a couple days ago, then accidentally deleted it in the spot it belonged, but I still have its text. That goes:
Dear Jonah,
Something very sad has happened. The couple I’ve mentioned before – the ones who your dad and I have been most closely sharing our pregnancy with – is losing their baby. Her water broke yesterday morning and they induced labor this morning. The baby isn't ready to live outside the womb. I have been crying a lot for them, and I feel helpless to help.
Your dad and I are both just really struck with our grief for them. When I told him the news, he noted that we've been pregnant together for so long, it's very hard to know how to go on in this without them. And all the while as I feel so sad for them - and us - I feel you in there - a tiny man moving around in my body, and I know you’re doing so well. I feel totally unworthy of the incredible gift of your presence inside me. I feel the vulnerability of this body and am newly aware of how fragile it is.
The thing that really hits me is that for all this time you have been an abstraction. You were a "probably." I think in trusts and estates terms I would have analogized you to an expectancy. As much as I have talked to you and written to you and felt you moving inside of me, you have still not been my baby. That changed yesterday. I'm pretty sure your name is Jonah. You are as real as I am.
Our friends have asked that we pray for them - that they will be good parents for the time that they have. I have been praying for that, and also for their comfort and resilience, but sometimes I can pray to God and feel like I've met a need. These prayers feel wholly inadequate.
Today, I wrote this for you:I'm sorry I haven't been able to post for a little while. Your dad and I have been consumed with another couple's journey in parenthood. Our friends B and J have been our companions in the wild and usually - or maybe just sometimes - wonderful road that is pregnancy. We've shared this journey with them since just a couple of days after they found out they were pregnant.
You may remember my post from October 21, when I told you about them. I said that you would grow up with her baby, at least for the first several years of your life. Your father and I imagined that when we finished with each stage of baby clothes, each baby contraption (car seats, playpens, etc) that we would likely hand them off to them. I imagined their child would be your friend. I loved that we would celebrate both your kicks and her baby's kicks together, and best that your dad and I weren't pregnant alone anymore. We rejoiced in their friendship and in having a community for pregnancy - with all the fears and new experiences it brings.
As we had imagined we would, we've continued to rejoice in these lives inside our bodies together, but Wednesday morning J's water broke and they were told that their baby could not yet survive outside the womb. There was then some joy and certainly a respite from their grief when they were told that J was carrying twins, and that perhaps there was some chance that they might support one another and live. But Friday morning J went into labor and their two sons were born and soon died. They named their children Emmanuel, which means "God with us" and Caleb, who encouraged the Hebrews to enter the land of Canaan.
For all this time you have been an abstraction. You were a "probably." I think in law school terms I would have analogized you to an expectancy. As much as I have talked to you and written to you and felt you moving inside of me, you have still not been my baby. That changed last week. You are as real as I am, and I'm pretty sure your name is Jonah, and I love you. And all the while as I feel so sad for them I feel you in there - a tiny man moving around in my body, and I know you're doing so well. I feel totally unworthy of the incredible gift of your presence inside me. I feel the vulnerability of this body and am newly aware of how fragile it is. I am terrified for you and pray that my feeble body is enough for you these last six weeks.
Your father and I have followed B's and J's journey for the last several days - praying for one thing and then another - for their strength, for their healing, for the time they would have with their children to be meaningful - and often, for a miracle. In the end Caleb and Emmanuel only had a few hours with their parents before slipping from this world, but they were blessed with some of the best parents I could imagine for any child. B generously wrote to us that a special angle on our friendship now is he and J treasure our pregnancy more than ever and look forward to getting to know you. You will be a lucky little boy for that. I have learned so much from them and from their journey through parenthood. How I miss them in this path already. Your dad has noted that we've been pregnant together for so long, it's very hard to know how to go on in this without them.
I wrote you a post a couple days ago, then accidentally deleted it in the spot it belonged, but I still have its text. That goes:
Dear Jonah,
Something very sad has happened. The couple I’ve mentioned before – the ones who your dad and I have been most closely sharing our pregnancy with – is losing their baby. Her water broke yesterday morning and they induced labor this morning. The baby isn't ready to live outside the womb. I have been crying a lot for them, and I feel helpless to help.
We've shared this journey with them since just a couple of days after they found out they were pregnant. It's been so joyful together. We've been passing maternity clothes along to them as I outgrow them; we expected to give our baby stuff to them as well. She's been so good, too. She kept exercising, and they were using the birthing center, and they've been listening to the heartbeat. She had just started to feel fetal movement. And she has been looking so RADIANT. I never saw anyone look so radiant - just starting to show, and she looked so alive. I've thought "I wish I were as good as her" so many times.
Your dad and I are both just really struck with our grief for them. When I told him the news, he noted that we've been pregnant together for so long, it's very hard to know how to go on in this without them. And all the while as I feel so sad for them - and us - I feel you in there - a tiny man moving around in my body, and I know you’re doing so well. I feel totally unworthy of the incredible gift of your presence inside me. I feel the vulnerability of this body and am newly aware of how fragile it is.
The thing that really hits me is that for all this time you have been an abstraction. You were a "probably." I think in trusts and estates terms I would have analogized you to an expectancy. As much as I have talked to you and written to you and felt you moving inside of me, you have still not been my baby. That changed yesterday. I'm pretty sure your name is Jonah. You are as real as I am.
Our friends have asked that we pray for them - that they will be good parents for the time that they have. I have been praying for that, and also for their comfort and resilience, but sometimes I can pray to God and feel like I've met a need. These prayers feel wholly inadequate.
Today, I wrote this for you:
You may remember my post from October 21, when I told you about them. I said that you would grow up with her baby, at least for the first several years of your life. Your father and I imagined that when we finished with each stage of baby clothes, each baby contraption (car seats, playpens, etc) that we would likely hand them off to them. I imagined their child would be your friend. I loved that we would celebrate both your kicks and her baby's kicks together, and best that your dad and I weren't pregnant alone anymore. We rejoiced in their friendship and in having a community for pregnancy - with all the fears and new experiences it brings.
As we had imagined we would, we've continued to rejoice in these lives inside our bodies together, but Wednesday morning J's water broke and they were told that their baby could not yet survive outside the womb. There was then some joy and certainly a respite from their grief when they were told that J was carrying twins, and that perhaps there was some chance that they might support one another and live. But Friday morning J went into labor and their two sons were born and soon died. They named their children Emmanuel, which means "God with us" and Caleb, who encouraged the Hebrews to enter the land of Canaan.
For all this time you have been an abstraction. You were a "probably." I think in law school terms I would have analogized you to an expectancy. As much as I have talked to you and written to you and felt you moving inside of me, you have still not been my baby. That changed last week. You are as real as I am, and I'm pretty sure your name is Jonah, and I love you. And all the while as I feel so sad for them I feel you in there - a tiny man moving around in my body, and I know you're doing so well. I feel totally unworthy of the incredible gift of your presence inside me. I feel the vulnerability of this body and am newly aware of how fragile it is. I am terrified for you and pray that my feeble body is enough for you these last six weeks.
Your father and I have followed B's and J's journey for the last several days - praying for one thing and then another - for their strength, for their healing, for the time they would have with their children to be meaningful - and often, for a miracle. In the end Caleb and Emmanuel only had a few hours with their parents before slipping from this world, but they were blessed with some of the best parents I could imagine for any child. B generously wrote to us that a special angle on our friendship now is he and J treasure our pregnancy more than ever and look forward to getting to know you. You will be a lucky little boy for that. I have learned so much from them and from their journey through parenthood. How I miss them in this path already. Your dad has noted that we've been pregnant together for so long, it's very hard to know how to go on in this without them.
Monday, December 10, 2007
PunkieDemocrat and looking good
Dear Jonah,
You and I just went to the doctor for a check-in, and I'm delighted to report that all is looking great in Jonah-land. Your heartrate was 136-138 and a joy to hear as always. I weighed in at a perfectly respectable 159. It's hot today, so maybe the absence of sweater-bulk took a half a pound off of what I weighed last week. The doctor says she can feel you - still head down and pointed toward the exit, and she thinks your face is pointed toward my back. That means my right leaning belly is your left. You lean to the left, like me and your dad. The doctor also said I shouldn't worry about those pains I'd been having. I think I mentioned those to you once before, but I've been having these shooting pains, starting a couple of inches above belly button level and down toward my legs. They happened a lot when your dad and I went for a walk during a break in my exam on Friday, and before that and since then I've been having them whenever I cough for sneeze. The doctor thinks it's just ligament pain - which means I still haven't had a real experience of a contraction. I know I must be having them, but I couldn't tell you anything about them. Our next appointment would ordinarily be two weeks from now, but we are going to be traveling a lot and won't be able to get back to see the doctor for another month. She's not worried about that, so neither are we. I'm now officially carrying around my perinatal medical record - just in case something happens and we need to see an OB somewhere that we travel. It's getting close and by some miracle, I'm really getting ready. Even now, I'm about to return to that paper that is the only thing standing between me and total focusing on you. I am pretty darned focused on you, though, so I'd best hop to it. I love you!
-Mom
You and I just went to the doctor for a check-in, and I'm delighted to report that all is looking great in Jonah-land. Your heartrate was 136-138 and a joy to hear as always. I weighed in at a perfectly respectable 159. It's hot today, so maybe the absence of sweater-bulk took a half a pound off of what I weighed last week. The doctor says she can feel you - still head down and pointed toward the exit, and she thinks your face is pointed toward my back. That means my right leaning belly is your left. You lean to the left, like me and your dad. The doctor also said I shouldn't worry about those pains I'd been having. I think I mentioned those to you once before, but I've been having these shooting pains, starting a couple of inches above belly button level and down toward my legs. They happened a lot when your dad and I went for a walk during a break in my exam on Friday, and before that and since then I've been having them whenever I cough for sneeze. The doctor thinks it's just ligament pain - which means I still haven't had a real experience of a contraction. I know I must be having them, but I couldn't tell you anything about them. Our next appointment would ordinarily be two weeks from now, but we are going to be traveling a lot and won't be able to get back to see the doctor for another month. She's not worried about that, so neither are we. I'm now officially carrying around my perinatal medical record - just in case something happens and we need to see an OB somewhere that we travel. It's getting close and by some miracle, I'm really getting ready. Even now, I'm about to return to that paper that is the only thing standing between me and total focusing on you. I am pretty darned focused on you, though, so I'd best hop to it. I love you!
-Mom
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Your dad is nesting.
Dear Jonah,
Your dad set up your bed tonight. Our friends, E & B have loaned us a co-sleeper that their son, H, slept in for the first couple of months of his life. H grew fast and already outgrew it, so you get to sleep in the bed of a baby who leaves big shoes to fill. (I don't actually know if H wears shoes). Your bed is now firmly attached to ours - a three walled nest which lies beside your dad and me.
Your dad set the co-sleeper up about twenty minutes ago, and he's been doing laundry all day. He's done sheets and quilts and now he's sorting socks - all in an effort to make sure our lives are organized and wanting to feel ready for you to come. He's been rearranging the drawers in a couple of pieces of furniture in the room that we call "the baby's room" - even though you won't be sleeping in it any time soon. You now have your very own three drawers and it's looking more and more like a nursery. Every few minutes or 10, he giggles or spontaneously says "we're having a son" or "we're having a little baby." About an hour ago, he came over to talk to you and I pulled up my shirt so he could talk to you more directly. You kicked visibly and your dad saw. He'd never actually seen that before and I wish I could describe his face. He looked stunned and overjoyed. He said it was really amazing.
There's no question. PunkiePapa is getting warmed up. I can't wait to see you two together. You don't know this yet, but you are such a lucky kid.
Your dad set up your bed tonight. Our friends, E & B have loaned us a co-sleeper that their son, H, slept in for the first couple of months of his life. H grew fast and already outgrew it, so you get to sleep in the bed of a baby who leaves big shoes to fill. (I don't actually know if H wears shoes). Your bed is now firmly attached to ours - a three walled nest which lies beside your dad and me.
Your dad set the co-sleeper up about twenty minutes ago, and he's been doing laundry all day. He's done sheets and quilts and now he's sorting socks - all in an effort to make sure our lives are organized and wanting to feel ready for you to come. He's been rearranging the drawers in a couple of pieces of furniture in the room that we call "the baby's room" - even though you won't be sleeping in it any time soon. You now have your very own three drawers and it's looking more and more like a nursery. Every few minutes or 10, he giggles or spontaneously says "we're having a son" or "we're having a little baby." About an hour ago, he came over to talk to you and I pulled up my shirt so he could talk to you more directly. You kicked visibly and your dad saw. He'd never actually seen that before and I wish I could describe his face. He looked stunned and overjoyed. He said it was really amazing.
There's no question. PunkiePapa is getting warmed up. I can't wait to see you two together. You don't know this yet, but you are such a lucky kid.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Holy S*%#!! It's so close!
Hi Jonah,
Pardon my explitive. I'm just feeling a little blown away by the "pregnancy update" e-mail I got this morning. According to the e-mail, you weigh about 4 pounds 5 ounces. You're big! And what's more, you look quite human. The e-mail also says your skin has turned from red to pink because you have started preparing for life outside the womb by storing iron in your liver. That's so cool.
The e-mail had some tips for me too. Some of which were comforting. It says "there's a big range of weight gain in pregnancy—some of it is determined genetically. There's also a big range of "normal" sized babies. (Come to think of it, there's a big range in height and weight in all human beings, and vive la difference!)" Your dad was born little - 6lbs. I was bigger - 8lbs. But now your dad is 6'1 and broad and I'm 5'3 and (ordinarily) on the small side. Whodathunkit?
Love, Mom
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Week 33
Dear Jonah,
Welcome to week 33 inside my body. I think you're starting to get uncomfortable, since you're now pushing on all areas of my abdomen at the same time, seeming to indicate that you've outgrown the space. You've got a lot of growing to do in the next 8 weeks, so I hope you're not too uncomfortable. I weighed myself at my professor's house last night, and by the grace of exam anxiety (I think) I haven't gained an immense amount of weight. I do weigh 159.5, which I never imagined in my life that I would weigh, but weight has taken on a whole new meaninglessness in the last few months.
I took my first exam on Tuesday (education law) and my last one is tomorrow (trusts & estates). For anyone who reads this and is inclined toward prayer or other gifts of positive energy, I welcome them. It will be an 8 hour exam, and I proved on Tuesday that my capacity to hang out in one room by myself is quite limited. I'm bringing your dad - my beloved husband - to school with me tomorrow. He will work from the library and when I need lunch or distraction, he'll provide. Have I mentioned yet how richly blessed I feel to have found such a tremendous partner? I think if I never got another amazing gift for the rest of my life, the gift I have in your father would be enough. Of course, I know that you will be an amazing gift, and thus, I have no room to gripe or complain about anything, ever. There just is no better life than mine. Thanks for being a part of it.
Love, Mom
Welcome to week 33 inside my body. I think you're starting to get uncomfortable, since you're now pushing on all areas of my abdomen at the same time, seeming to indicate that you've outgrown the space. You've got a lot of growing to do in the next 8 weeks, so I hope you're not too uncomfortable. I weighed myself at my professor's house last night, and by the grace of exam anxiety (I think) I haven't gained an immense amount of weight. I do weigh 159.5, which I never imagined in my life that I would weigh, but weight has taken on a whole new meaninglessness in the last few months.
I took my first exam on Tuesday (education law) and my last one is tomorrow (trusts & estates). For anyone who reads this and is inclined toward prayer or other gifts of positive energy, I welcome them. It will be an 8 hour exam, and I proved on Tuesday that my capacity to hang out in one room by myself is quite limited. I'm bringing your dad - my beloved husband - to school with me tomorrow. He will work from the library and when I need lunch or distraction, he'll provide. Have I mentioned yet how richly blessed I feel to have found such a tremendous partner? I think if I never got another amazing gift for the rest of my life, the gift I have in your father would be enough. Of course, I know that you will be an amazing gift, and thus, I have no room to gripe or complain about anything, ever. There just is no better life than mine. Thanks for being a part of it.
Love, Mom
Monday, December 3, 2007
PunkieRepublican?!?? Surely not!
Dear Jonah,
I have been watching this belly of ours grow and change for the last several months, and for the last few months, I’ve thought I was imagining this, but I’m not. It’s absolutely true. My belly button has shifted about and inch to the right. In fact, my entire belly leans a little to the right. The linea negra runs basically horizontal down my torso, and it doesn’t even touch my belly button. This isn’t a prophetic-metaphor, is it? I know that if you grew up to be a republican I’d love you. I just don’t know what we’d talk about. Should we call you Keaton (as in, Alex P. – conservative, republican son of two aging hippies)?
I have been watching this belly of ours grow and change for the last several months, and for the last few months, I’ve thought I was imagining this, but I’m not. It’s absolutely true. My belly button has shifted about and inch to the right. In fact, my entire belly leans a little to the right. The linea negra runs basically horizontal down my torso, and it doesn’t even touch my belly button. This isn’t a prophetic-metaphor, is it? I know that if you grew up to be a republican I’d love you. I just don’t know what we’d talk about. Should we call you Keaton (as in, Alex P. – conservative, republican son of two aging hippies)?
59 Days and Counting
Dear Jonah,
There are 59 days till you are due to arrive. I have an exam tomorrow and another one on Friday. I’m feeling pretty peaceful – strangely peaceful – about the upcoming exams. I don’t know whether it’s the practice exams I’ve taken, or more likely, the fact that I’ve realized that exams just aren’t that big a deal in comparison to the fact that you are on the way. I certainly don’t feel all that confident. For instance, school desegregation is all a muddle in my head. True, it’s actually in a bit of a muddle, but there was a Supreme Court decision last summer that I learned a lot about before the decision came down, but I don’t know the decision. It’s ungodly long, and I just am not going to read the whole thing. I need to get the cliffs notes or something. You can’t see my face right now, but if you could, you’d note the obvious absence of urgency. The test is in the morning. That’s no good. I need to locate my inner Type-A for just a little while. Still, I have to tell you: it’s good to have the grouchiness behind me for a little while.
I’m having new aches and pains these days. When I sneeze, I have these weird shooting pains that start a little above my belly button level and shoot down into my pelvic area. They are sharp pains, and a couple of times they have lasted for nearly a minute. A little poking around on the web tells me these might be the first time I’ve felt any Braxton-Hicks contractions. That’s wild. If that’s true, cool. I’ve been wondering what contractions would feel like. I don’t mean that I especially love discomfort. I guess I’m just getting ready to get this show on the road. I know you’re not, though, so I’m glad you’re still in there and doing fine.
Love, Mom
There are 59 days till you are due to arrive. I have an exam tomorrow and another one on Friday. I’m feeling pretty peaceful – strangely peaceful – about the upcoming exams. I don’t know whether it’s the practice exams I’ve taken, or more likely, the fact that I’ve realized that exams just aren’t that big a deal in comparison to the fact that you are on the way. I certainly don’t feel all that confident. For instance, school desegregation is all a muddle in my head. True, it’s actually in a bit of a muddle, but there was a Supreme Court decision last summer that I learned a lot about before the decision came down, but I don’t know the decision. It’s ungodly long, and I just am not going to read the whole thing. I need to get the cliffs notes or something. You can’t see my face right now, but if you could, you’d note the obvious absence of urgency. The test is in the morning. That’s no good. I need to locate my inner Type-A for just a little while. Still, I have to tell you: it’s good to have the grouchiness behind me for a little while.
I’m having new aches and pains these days. When I sneeze, I have these weird shooting pains that start a little above my belly button level and shoot down into my pelvic area. They are sharp pains, and a couple of times they have lasted for nearly a minute. A little poking around on the web tells me these might be the first time I’ve felt any Braxton-Hicks contractions. That’s wild. If that’s true, cool. I’ve been wondering what contractions would feel like. I don’t mean that I especially love discomfort. I guess I’m just getting ready to get this show on the road. I know you’re not, though, so I’m glad you’re still in there and doing fine.
Love, Mom
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Week 32
Dear Jonah,
I'm happy to report that your mom has stopped overloading your system with cortisol. Somehow by blogging about it, talking to others about it, and making some destressing lifestyle changes, I'm doing okay. I've also figured out that some of the symptoms I thought were just anxiety are pregnancy. That shortness of breath and that perpetually expanded feeling in my ribcage are because you have grown so much that my lungs don't have room to fully expand, and likewise, your body has worked its way up to between my ribs.
If you were born right now, you would have an excellent chance of survival, with the right care. You have grown to about 16 inches in length and weigh approximately 3 and a half pounds. Also, according to the pregnancy update e-mail as well as doctor's exam, you are now pointed head down, directed toward the exit. Woo-hoo!
Pregnancy has been pretty manageable for me, and I hope for you too. I don't plan to do it again anytime soon, but I'm pretty grateful for the ride it's been thus far.
Love, Mom
I'm happy to report that your mom has stopped overloading your system with cortisol. Somehow by blogging about it, talking to others about it, and making some destressing lifestyle changes, I'm doing okay. I've also figured out that some of the symptoms I thought were just anxiety are pregnancy. That shortness of breath and that perpetually expanded feeling in my ribcage are because you have grown so much that my lungs don't have room to fully expand, and likewise, your body has worked its way up to between my ribs.
If you were born right now, you would have an excellent chance of survival, with the right care. You have grown to about 16 inches in length and weigh approximately 3 and a half pounds. Also, according to the pregnancy update e-mail as well as doctor's exam, you are now pointed head down, directed toward the exit. Woo-hoo!
Pregnancy has been pretty manageable for me, and I hope for you too. I don't plan to do it again anytime soon, but I'm pretty grateful for the ride it's been thus far.
Love, Mom
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Exam stress!!!
Dear Jonah (we think that's your name, now, so I'm trying it out),
I'm 32 weeks into this pregnancy and have really been trying to treat you well during your time inside my body. I've gotta say, I never really appreciated how committed pregnant women are to becoming mothers. I get that now. It's a huge responsibility to have another (very vulnerable) human life inside my body, depending on me to do/eat/think the safest/optimal things 100% of the time, and I hope I've done an okay job so far.
I knew before your dad and I were pregnant that I had to get off of some medications that I normally take for my usual ADHD laced with anxiety, and that was perfectly okay with me. I worked it out with the school to let me record classes, I've worked with an LD coach, I took fewer classes, and on the whole, I'd say it's worked brilliantly. But in the last week, I've hit a giant road block around finals. It happens every year that I have a good bit of exam-time anxiety, but this semester (sans meds, and with hormones a little less steady than before), I've been a bit of a wreck since classes broke for Thanksgiving. It's irrational. I have plenty to do before each exam (one next Tuesday and one a week from Friday) and I really don't have leisure time, but assuming I can devote myself to studies just the same as everyone else getting ready for exams, I am in good shape to do well on exams. Moreover, I don't even care about grades. I just want to pass the stupid classes and get them over with.
I've read several times about the importance of minimizing stress during pregnancy b/c cortisol evidently crosses the placenta and mom's who are stressed out during pregnancy - which I have not been, other than since Thanksgiving - produce babies who have problems with anxiety and stress management into their teens and beyond. It's an added piece of pressure that I feel guilty about poor little you - trapped inside my body and having to feel all this anxiety.
I talked with my professor about that last night, and she was able to ease my worries a little bit. Apparently she was really stressed out and totally miserable for her last pregnancy, and her son is one of the most charming, laid back, utterly stressless human beings I've ever met. If you have his level of anxiety, I'll consider myself truly blessed.
Still, by yesterday - in the wee hours of the morning - I was getting pretty desperate, and I e-mailed my doctor for some guidance. I asked him if there was anything I could do. I said "I'm open to herbal stuff, real meds, magic spells, or whatever - as long as it's okay for both me and baby." He offered me one medication that I've never heard of, but it's a risk/benefit analysis, since there's still some risk of fetal withdrawal. My OB chimed in that she didn't think that there was much risk if I take just a few doses to get through exams, but I keep thinking that there's just a short time left until exams are over, and after that there could be consequences for you. I don't want you to suffer from my anxiety - or from my calm - it's hard to be a mommy right now.
I'm 32 weeks into this pregnancy and have really been trying to treat you well during your time inside my body. I've gotta say, I never really appreciated how committed pregnant women are to becoming mothers. I get that now. It's a huge responsibility to have another (very vulnerable) human life inside my body, depending on me to do/eat/think the safest/optimal things 100% of the time, and I hope I've done an okay job so far.
I knew before your dad and I were pregnant that I had to get off of some medications that I normally take for my usual ADHD laced with anxiety, and that was perfectly okay with me. I worked it out with the school to let me record classes, I've worked with an LD coach, I took fewer classes, and on the whole, I'd say it's worked brilliantly. But in the last week, I've hit a giant road block around finals. It happens every year that I have a good bit of exam-time anxiety, but this semester (sans meds, and with hormones a little less steady than before), I've been a bit of a wreck since classes broke for Thanksgiving. It's irrational. I have plenty to do before each exam (one next Tuesday and one a week from Friday) and I really don't have leisure time, but assuming I can devote myself to studies just the same as everyone else getting ready for exams, I am in good shape to do well on exams. Moreover, I don't even care about grades. I just want to pass the stupid classes and get them over with.
I've read several times about the importance of minimizing stress during pregnancy b/c cortisol evidently crosses the placenta and mom's who are stressed out during pregnancy - which I have not been, other than since Thanksgiving - produce babies who have problems with anxiety and stress management into their teens and beyond. It's an added piece of pressure that I feel guilty about poor little you - trapped inside my body and having to feel all this anxiety.
I talked with my professor about that last night, and she was able to ease my worries a little bit. Apparently she was really stressed out and totally miserable for her last pregnancy, and her son is one of the most charming, laid back, utterly stressless human beings I've ever met. If you have his level of anxiety, I'll consider myself truly blessed.
Still, by yesterday - in the wee hours of the morning - I was getting pretty desperate, and I e-mailed my doctor for some guidance. I asked him if there was anything I could do. I said "I'm open to herbal stuff, real meds, magic spells, or whatever - as long as it's okay for both me and baby." He offered me one medication that I've never heard of, but it's a risk/benefit analysis, since there's still some risk of fetal withdrawal. My OB chimed in that she didn't think that there was much risk if I take just a few doses to get through exams, but I keep thinking that there's just a short time left until exams are over, and after that there could be consequences for you. I don't want you to suffer from my anxiety - or from my calm - it's hard to be a mommy right now.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Why do people say "you can gain all the weight you want when you're pregnant?" If only they knew! I never worried about weight before I was pregnant. I've gained 20lbs in the last two months and our doctor doesn't agree with the weight-gain cheerleaders. At our last appointment she said "don't gain 10lbs every month." Thanks. No kidding. If I'd made any effort to eat "low-fat" or "low-cal" prior to pregnancy, I'd have been blown away by a strong wind, and now, I have no skills to keep my weight down. I'm also a picky, picky eater (a trait I hope you don't inherit) and I really don't like the suggestions I keep finding in pregnancy magazines that I should munch a carrot.
At least I can say it's not just me, though. I just read that "in the last two weeks, [you've] gained almost 12 ounces." And you are apparently "a wrinkled little thing" - at least I'm not wrinkled. I'm fat, but not wrinkled. I look forward to meeting you 75 days from now, Sweet, Wrinkley Boy.
-Mom
At least I can say it's not just me, though. I just read that "in the last two weeks, [you've] gained almost 12 ounces." And you are apparently "a wrinkled little thing" - at least I'm not wrinkled. I'm fat, but not wrinkled. I look forward to meeting you 75 days from now, Sweet, Wrinkley Boy.
-Mom
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Goodbye monkey baby, hello roly poly!
I borrowed a source from another pregnancy blogger (http://pregnancy.baby-gaga.com/calendar/week30 from Jeni's Pregnancy Journal - on the right side of this page), and it is fascinating to see what's going on this week.
Fetal development in pregnancy week 30: Can you believe this is the thirtieth week? I really can't.
And how am I doing? Well, I'm tired by day and at night I'm tired, but I can't seem to get comfortable. I have some heartburn, which means according to an old wives tale (and recent scientific studies) you have a decent chance of being born with some hair. Your dad and I were both born baldies so I don't know where you'd get it, but I suppose you might. I also have terrible allergy/cold like symptoms which I can't really explain. I don't have a fever, and there's been an awful drought, so that could explain the abnormally allergic feeling me these days. I feel awful because I keep your dad awake with all my trips to the bathroom (yes, it's true, I have to pee all the time) and my sneezes and my fussing with the covers. I need a nap everyday now worse than I ever did, but I can't always have it anymore. It's getting too close to exams and I'm still trying to outline Trusts and Estates.
I'm writing my will, too. I was planning to do that anyway, but it's a required part of my Trusts and Estates class. I am using a form will as a sort of a template, so it shouldn't be all that hard, but I don't like it anyway. It's a morbid experience. I have to ponder difficult, scary things like what would happen if you predecease me and what expectations do your dad and I have should one of us die and the other someday remarry. Oh, such awful things!! I don't want to deal with the possibility of divorce - even though the form will thinks I should. I think it introduces bad energy into the marriage and I'm simply not going to. I'll have to e-mail my professor to promise her that if the unthinkable were to ever happen, I'd execute a new will. Besides, how could I possibly write a document giving legal instructions in the event of a divorce - I can't even imagine it, so how can I know what I would want to happen to my stuff after it?
The best part of pregnancy these days is that you move all the time. The strongest kicks are always up top, and often, I can feel them on the left and the right side at exactly the same moment. Are you doing a frog kick in there? I really like it. There are some movements down low, too, and often I feel them poke me in the bladder, but mercifully, those are weaker and I am not yet in a state of perpetual discomfort. I don't doubt that it's coming, but hopefully I can make it through exams before that happens.
I really can't wait to meet you!
Love, Mom
Fetal development in pregnancy week 30: Can you believe this is the thirtieth week? I really can't.
The light is visible at the end of the tunnel! [We] have finally reached the single digits (in terms of weeks till birth)! The fine lanugo hair that has been growing all over [your] little monkey-like body is going to start falling off this week in preparation for the big day. But . . . some babies keep their lanugo until after birth. Still, it’s not any cause to be concerned as it will fall off eventually. [You are a] little porker [and are] getting even cuter with increasingly pudgy arms and legs this week thanks to the ever-growing layers of subcutaneous fat. In terms of numbers, you[] should be weighing in at around 3 pounds 12 ounces (or more!) and be nearly 16 inches long.
I'm writing my will, too. I was planning to do that anyway, but it's a required part of my Trusts and Estates class. I am using a form will as a sort of a template, so it shouldn't be all that hard, but I don't like it anyway. It's a morbid experience. I have to ponder difficult, scary things like what would happen if you predecease me and what expectations do your dad and I have should one of us die and the other someday remarry. Oh, such awful things!! I don't want to deal with the possibility of divorce - even though the form will thinks I should. I think it introduces bad energy into the marriage and I'm simply not going to. I'll have to e-mail my professor to promise her that if the unthinkable were to ever happen, I'd execute a new will. Besides, how could I possibly write a document giving legal instructions in the event of a divorce - I can't even imagine it, so how can I know what I would want to happen to my stuff after it?
The best part of pregnancy these days is that you move all the time. The strongest kicks are always up top, and often, I can feel them on the left and the right side at exactly the same moment. Are you doing a frog kick in there? I really like it. There are some movements down low, too, and often I feel them poke me in the bladder, but mercifully, those are weaker and I am not yet in a state of perpetual discomfort. I don't doubt that it's coming, but hopefully I can make it through exams before that happens.
I really can't wait to meet you!
Love, Mom
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A little closer to ready
Hello Kiddo,
Last night your dad and I took an infant and child CPR class – an important step toward being ready to be your parents. Your dad had taken CPR before, but I hadn’t ever taken it. I’ve read a lot of stuff about how to prevent accidents that might necessitate CPR, but just in case, now we’re prepared – we think. It’s a good thing, too, because as of today, you’re 79 days away.
Love, your mom.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Yesterday's Doctor's Appt.
The doctor said she’d do the Group B Strep test next time we see her so that the results of that test will be in my medical records, and we’ll carry the records with us for that extremely unlikely possibility that you decide to be a Vegas baby. I took that horrible diabetes screening test yesterday too. I haven’t had any symptoms of gestational diabetes and I would have been very happy to skip that test altogether. It made me feel nauseous, and I really can’t imagine that I am at any risk for it at all – still, better safe than sorry, I guess. I just hope I passed it, because if I didn’t, then I have to take another, more intense version of the same test, and that would really make me unhappy.
Today is largely devoted to working on an independent study paper – devoted to what government regulation of parenting and other caregiving for children would be societally tolerable, beneficial to children, and Constitutional. It’s a big topic and I’d better get back to it.
Stay well.
Love, Mom
News from the Family
Good Morning PunkieKid,
I’m sorry it’s been a while since you’ve heard from us. Your dad and I have been really busy. We have some more exciting news on the family front. Your Aunt Katie has gotten engaged to the brother-in-law your dad and I have been hoping for. He’s now officially Uncle Scott. There’s no set date for their wedding, yet, but this weekend, your dad and I went to Macon
Meeting Scott’s parents was really lovely. They are very nice people and they made us all so comfortable in their home. They clearly love your aunt and I hope they know how much we all love Uncle S. It’s a shame we never met them before because I don’t know how often we’ll see them, now that your grandparents are moving to Nevada Macon
Knowing Scott and Katie will be really important in your life because they are going to be your godparents. That means that they will be mentors and role-models for you, taking special care to give you extra love and support around spirituality. Katie and Scott will also become your legal guardians if anything should ever happen to me and your dad.
On a lighter note, the trip to Macon Macon
More news in a bit - I'm hungry. I think you are hungry too. I'm definitely hungry enough for two.
Love, Mom
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Your mother needs a ship deck
I checked the calendar this morning, and you’re scheduled to be here in 91 days. There are also: 65 days till your grandfather is consecrated bishop, 33 days till one of my final exams and 35 days till the other. I don’t remember which exam is on which day because it really doesn’t matter. I have 10 classes left of Trusts and Estates, 7 classes left of Education law, and not long at all to finish an independent study. I can’t decide how I feel about any of this.
I met with the academic dean earlier this week to go over my plan to finish law school and be a mom at the same time, and I think the plan is pretty painless (though, of course, we shall see). I will have one semester of 4 hours – likely at NC Central’s law school or at the UNC School of Social Work, then another semester with 10 hours (3 or 4 classes), and a summer semester of 6 hours – advanced legal research and income tax. Why I came to law school I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. Finishing seems quite important to me, but as I’ve been considering my graduation from this awful place, it occurs to me that “graduation” seems like a wholly unsatisfying event to attend. So, your dad and I have planned an alternative graduation ritual. We are looking for a cruise. By the time I graduate, you’ll be a year old and I think that’s old enough to leave with your grandma Lolly for a week. I wouldn’t swear to that, and we’ll need to check on it, but I don’t think you’ll want to lay on a ship deck with your mother at that point, and I will be in desperate need of a ship deck.
What a rotten mom I feel like today!
I must say, I’m not feeling like an especially fit parent these days. Your brother, Rex,
had to get stitches on Saturday and the reason is just dreadful. Your dad and were trying to groom him because he kept licking this spot on his wrist. I thought it might be a wound of some kind and thought we needed to get the hair off of his leg in order to properly inspect it. But, we were both a little tense at the time that we were grooming him, and consequently weren’t as mindful as we ought to have been, and I suspect we also probably imparted some of our own tension to Rex, who was especially jumpy. Well, while I was attempting to remove the hair with some ordinary scissors (a precursor to the electric clippers), Rex moved his head suddenly and dropped his tongue between the two scissor blades. I cut his tongue badly. He didn’t indicate any pain so we kept working and your dad then accidentally cut Rexie’s leg. That cut was clearly large and your dad and I didn’t think we could care for it ourselves so we took Rex to the vet, where general anesthesia and stitching ensued. Since then, Rexie has been on antibiotics and has been hard to convince that he shouldn’t lick his bandages. That worries me and keeps my attention always slightly turned to the potential for other harm. This morning, just for a little extra stress, Rex fell backwards off the bed – something he’s never done unless he was having a seizure. So, he limped around (or something – he did a funny walk anyway) for about five minutes and I panicked and called the vet. That was before I figured out that he was really fine. I bet the vet is ready to call canine protective services on me and your dad right now. Rex is enjoying all this attention though. He’s playful and his wit and charm are uncompromised. I don’t think he’s in any pain – except that he’s still trying to lick that wrist (which it turned out, there was no wound on) and he’s enjoying all the extra attention. He’s driving me up a wall, making me chant “leave it. Leave IT!” over and over. But the only alternative is a bite-not collar, which I cannot bear to do if we don’t absolutely have to. What a rotten mom I feel like today!
had to get stitches on Saturday and the reason is just dreadful. Your dad and were trying to groom him because he kept licking this spot on his wrist. I thought it might be a wound of some kind and thought we needed to get the hair off of his leg in order to properly inspect it. But, we were both a little tense at the time that we were grooming him, and consequently weren’t as mindful as we ought to have been, and I suspect we also probably imparted some of our own tension to Rex, who was especially jumpy. Well, while I was attempting to remove the hair with some ordinary scissors (a precursor to the electric clippers), Rex moved his head suddenly and dropped his tongue between the two scissor blades. I cut his tongue badly. He didn’t indicate any pain so we kept working and your dad then accidentally cut Rexie’s leg. That cut was clearly large and your dad and I didn’t think we could care for it ourselves so we took Rex to the vet, where general anesthesia and stitching ensued. Since then, Rexie has been on antibiotics and has been hard to convince that he shouldn’t lick his bandages. That worries me and keeps my attention always slightly turned to the potential for other harm. This morning, just for a little extra stress, Rex fell backwards off the bed – something he’s never done unless he was having a seizure. So, he limped around (or something – he did a funny walk anyway) for about five minutes and I panicked and called the vet. That was before I figured out that he was really fine. I bet the vet is ready to call canine protective services on me and your dad right now. Rex is enjoying all this attention though. He’s playful and his wit and charm are uncompromised. I don’t think he’s in any pain – except that he’s still trying to lick that wrist (which it turned out, there was no wound on) and he’s enjoying all the extra attention. He’s driving me up a wall, making me chant “leave it. Leave IT!” over and over. But the only alternative is a bite-not collar, which I cannot bear to do if we don’t absolutely have to. What a rotten mom I feel like today!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Dad and Son getting to know eachother
Dear Son,
Your mom and I are watching game one of the World Series. The Sox lead the Rockies two to nothing. I am so excited to be sharing this experience with you. You know based on these blog entries that I love baseball. I can't wait for you to tell me what it is that you like because I want to enjoy it with you. Thank-you for being our son.
Dad
Your mom and I are watching game one of the World Series. The Sox lead the Rockies two to nothing. I am so excited to be sharing this experience with you. You know based on these blog entries that I love baseball. I can't wait for you to tell me what it is that you like because I want to enjoy it with you. Thank-you for being our son.
Dad
99 bottles of… oh, uh, days left.
Hi PunkieKid,
I checked the ticker today and I am but should not be surprised, after all, I checked it on Monday and it said were 101 days away from our due date, so of course today we are 99 days away. (That’s subtraction. 101 days minus 2 days is 99 days). So why am I in shock? I guess it’s the fact that we are now into the double digits. As Steve Martin says in Father of the Bride II, “the stork is circling the neighborhood.”
Monday, October 22, 2007
101 days left
Hi Little One,
I read last night that you are still between one and two pounds, and that this month is the month you'll be most active. After this, you'll get cramped in there - close quarters. But the most amazing thing is that according to our "Due Date Ticker" (on another website), you're going to be here in approximately 101 days. I could probably come up with structured goals related to you to fill every one of those days, but alas, I must structure my days around law and policy and other esoteric thoughts that seem so unrelated to what I'm mostly interested in these days. I met with my ADD coach today and she encouraged me to focus as much of my energy as possible on getting my course work finished because she warned (rightly) that as you get closer, it will be harder and harder, and eventually, nearly impossible to think of anything but you. I know she's right, so I'll return to the article I'm reading - "Parents as Fiduciaries" - but as I read, you will grow and soon we get to meet you!!!
Love,
Mom
I read last night that you are still between one and two pounds, and that this month is the month you'll be most active. After this, you'll get cramped in there - close quarters. But the most amazing thing is that according to our "Due Date Ticker" (on another website), you're going to be here in approximately 101 days. I could probably come up with structured goals related to you to fill every one of those days, but alas, I must structure my days around law and policy and other esoteric thoughts that seem so unrelated to what I'm mostly interested in these days. I met with my ADD coach today and she encouraged me to focus as much of my energy as possible on getting my course work finished because she warned (rightly) that as you get closer, it will be harder and harder, and eventually, nearly impossible to think of anything but you. I know she's right, so I'll return to the article I'm reading - "Parents as Fiduciaries" - but as I read, you will grow and soon we get to meet you!!!
Love,
Mom
From PunkieDaddy
Hey Little Man,
Just wanted to update you. The Sox beat the Indians 9-2 and are headed to the World Series to play the Colorado Rockies. It was an exciting game in which the Sox completed a three game winning streak. They came back from a 3-1 deficit to win the series 4-3. This was a special series for me because the year your mother and I met was the year the Sox came back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Yankees 4 games to 3. Therefore, your mother and I have decided that the Sox are our American League team. We hope to take you to a Boston Red Sox game someday. You can look forward to a Cubs game next summer with your mom and dad, your grandparents on my side (they say they're going to go by Lolly and Big G), and your cousins, Linda and Mike.
That's all for now. You are always in my heart.
Love, Dad
Just wanted to update you. The Sox beat the Indians 9-2 and are headed to the World Series to play the Colorado Rockies. It was an exciting game in which the Sox completed a three game winning streak. They came back from a 3-1 deficit to win the series 4-3. This was a special series for me because the year your mother and I met was the year the Sox came back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Yankees 4 games to 3. Therefore, your mother and I have decided that the Sox are our American League team. We hope to take you to a Boston Red Sox game someday. You can look forward to a Cubs game next summer with your mom and dad, your grandparents on my side (they say they're going to go by Lolly and Big G), and your cousins, Linda and Mike.
That's all for now. You are always in my heart.
Love, Dad
Sunday, October 21, 2007
From PunkieDaddy
Hey Dude,
It's game seven of the American League Championship Series and the Sox are up one to nothing over the Cleveland Indians. Thought you'd want to know.
Love, Dad
It's game seven of the American League Championship Series and the Sox are up one to nothing over the Cleveland Indians. Thought you'd want to know.
Love, Dad
A Saturday in our shared life
Good Morning PunkieKid,
Yesterday was a big day for busyness and fun. I went to the fair in the morning with a good friend. She is also expecting a baby, so she wasn’t disappointed that we couldn’t go on any rides. Instead, we walked around and looked at the craft shows, flower shows, and my favorite, the farm animals. We stopped for a funnel cake for me and a milkshake for her. Mostly we just chatted. It was really nice.
Perhaps the most wonderful part that came from the fair yesterday was the knowledge that my friend will soon be very publicly pregnant too. She’s starting to show a tiny bit, though no one who didn’t know her well and wasn’t looking anyway could tell. She looks amazing. She’s glowing and radiant, but still carrying a tiny, tiny secret. She’s only gained one pound in her entire first 12 weeks of pregnancy. I can’t believe it. I think gained a pound the first day I was pregnant. Oh well, these things can’t (or really shouldn’t) be compared. We’re all just too different.
You are going to grow up with her baby. I’m in school with her husband and she’s looking at Ph.D. programs in the area (as am I), so her child is very likely to grow up with you, at least for the first several years of your life. When we finish with each stage of baby clothes, each baby contraption (car seats, playpens, etc) we’ll likely hand them off to her. I’m already at the stage that maternity clothes have stopped fitting (or it’s now clear that they’ll never fit this body type of mine) and it’s time to hand them off to my friend. We’ll babysit for one another. We’ll confide in and support each other.
I love that we’re so close in gestational age, and that her child will be your friend. I love that we can gripe about sciatica to each other and that soon we’ll celebrate both your kicks and her baby’s kicks together. I love that your dad and I aren’t pregnant alone anymore. It’s so good to have community in pregnancy – with all the fears and new experiences it brings.
In the afternoon, I sat ate some lunch while your dad followed football scores simultaneously on both the internet and TV. It is very important in this house that we know how the Gamecocks are doing, but we have too many screens in this place. In case you’re interested, though, they lost to Vanderbilt, by the way, in a classic Gamecocks way. That is, according to your dad, they lost to an athletically inferior team because of they are systemically, perennially intellectually stunted. After a quick nap, we dashed off to Don’s for some more pregnancy photography. You’ll see images from that when Don gets a chance to process them, but it’ll have to wait for now because Don’s off to Houston
Have a good day kid, and I’ll fill in you more sometime soon.
Love, Mom
Friday, October 19, 2007
At 20 weeks it was pretty obvious that you were in there.
Hi PunkieKiddo,
This is from five weeks ago - 20 weeks - and there was no doubt at all that you were in there. Below is more of me and your dad five weeks ago - it was the middle of the second trimester and we were anxiously awaiting your first kicks. It was a busy time for us and, again, I think you can tell what was going on with us.
I was in moot court mode - feeling strongly analytical, sharp, quick, and somewhat obnoxiously in my head.
My sense of humor was on the fritz - that's what happens when I get wrapped up in appellate advocacy. But your dad has a way of curing that for me, as you can probably tell.
Your dad was up to his eyeballs in DSS craziness with families and children exploding and erupting all around. Maybe you can see that we were more tired than before and a little less "in the moment." But no less in love with each other or with you.
When your dad and I are struggling in our work/school lives, we're pretty good about caring for and supporting one another, and this was a time that we were needing to do a lot of that. Perhaps you can see us supporting one another? Or perhaps it's just that I can see it because I lived it with him.
I imagine that parenthood will call on us to support each other quite a bit. That's what I've heard from the wonderful friends and examples your dad and I draw from. I predict that it will also keep my analytical mind busy, but hopefully not obnoxiously so. I wonder, though, whether I'll be able to stay centered and not live too much in my head. I don't really know. I've never had an opportunity to find out. It's just hard for me to imagine hanging out in my head all day when I need to meet the moment-by-moment needs that you present and when I have the privilege of hanging out with you. Babies don't live in their heads - they live totally moment-to-moment. Maybe that's where the learning from your kids starts - learning to live in the moment. Who knows? I look forward to the process of finding out.
I love you,
Mom
This is from five weeks ago - 20 weeks - and there was no doubt at all that you were in there. Below is more of me and your dad five weeks ago - it was the middle of the second trimester and we were anxiously awaiting your first kicks. It was a busy time for us and, again, I think you can tell what was going on with us.
I was in moot court mode - feeling strongly analytical, sharp, quick, and somewhat obnoxiously in my head.
My sense of humor was on the fritz - that's what happens when I get wrapped up in appellate advocacy. But your dad has a way of curing that for me, as you can probably tell.
Your dad was up to his eyeballs in DSS craziness with families and children exploding and erupting all around. Maybe you can see that we were more tired than before and a little less "in the moment." But no less in love with each other or with you.
When your dad and I are struggling in our work/school lives, we're pretty good about caring for and supporting one another, and this was a time that we were needing to do a lot of that. Perhaps you can see us supporting one another? Or perhaps it's just that I can see it because I lived it with him.I imagine that parenthood will call on us to support each other quite a bit. That's what I've heard from the wonderful friends and examples your dad and I draw from. I predict that it will also keep my analytical mind busy, but hopefully not obnoxiously so. I wonder, though, whether I'll be able to stay centered and not live too much in my head. I don't really know. I've never had an opportunity to find out. It's just hard for me to imagine hanging out in my head all day when I need to meet the moment-by-moment needs that you present and when I have the privilege of hanging out with you. Babies don't live in their heads - they live totally moment-to-moment. Maybe that's where the learning from your kids starts - learning to live in the moment. Who knows? I look forward to the process of finding out.
I love you,
Mom
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