The Ultrasound

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008… a day that will live in infamy (sorry, FDR). Had an early morning ultrasound scheduled. Was still PO’d at the tech for not telling me the weight last week. I mean, if you’re supposed to do a BPP (biophysical profile) every week, don’t you think the weight might be important?!?!

So, in I go. Everything looks fine. She’s measuring and calibrating. Heart rate is still in the mid-120s, something I need to know for the NST I have later that afternoon. Stick-It looks fine. His cord is NOT around his neck, the first question I have asked every tech at every u/s during this pregnancy. Then, the last question: "so, how much does he weigh?" Her response? "About 6 lb., 7 oz."

What the F#@&!?!?!?!

I, as calmly as possible, say, "Gee, he was 6 lb., 9 oz. TWO weeks ago. Are you sure that’s right?"

She responds, "I didn’t tell you that." "Yes, you did." She checks her computer. "Well, you know, ultrasounds can be off by half a pound. Everything looks fine."

Really, sweetheart?!?! Well, this ain’t your kid, your pregnancy, and you haven’t lost the previous two, have you?!?!

I leave the office, calmly, and immediately dial my mother. "Mom, he’s 6 lb., 7 oz. He was 6 lb., 9 oz. If I were still your patient (the OB/GYNs my mother worked for were my docs in my teens and 20s), what would you tell me to do?" Her advice? "Go to the doctor’s office right now and tell them you need to see someone. They need to review your reports right away." Good, that's what I was going to do anyway, but somehow having my mother-slash-the nurse-slash-the OB doc's daughter tell me to do it backs up my decision.

So, down one flight I go. I do not call DH, who will not handle bad news at all well. I figure I’ll wait until I know more, then if I need to, I’ll call him. I go to the counter, explain the situation, ask when Dr. Fav is in. Not until 9:00 a.m. is the response. It’s only 7:45 a.m. I ask if another doctor is available, and am told they’ll have one of the nurse midwives review my reports. They apparently call upstairs, because the next thing I know is that the u/s tech is in the waiting room telling me that she’s brought down both reports, which are now being reviewed, and someone will speak with me shortly. Gee, thanks, but I have the impression that 1) you aren’t too pleased that I have questioned you, and 2) you are now concerned that you missed something.

My name is called, and I meet with N., one of the nurse midwives. She tells me that Stick-It is okay, but there is some concern that his growth rate that was so great is no longer. She mentions that Dr. S. over in the hospital doing a section (I have no clue who Dr. S. is), and that K., another nurse-midwife, will meet me in L&D. They want to just run some tests, and possibly do an amnio to check for lung maturity. She hands me the two u/s reports, telling me to take them with me to L&D, as it will be faster than them faxing them over. I am still in a fog. I’m now apologizing to N. for appearing to be a worrywart, and explain that we had lost Jimmy four years ago this coming Monday, and that I just am being cautious. It doesn’t dawn on me and she is describing procedures that indicate their concern as well. Instead, I am just relieved that they are taking my concern seriously and not putting me off like their tech seemed to. I ask N. to please let Dr. Fav know I’m here and what’s going on. N. reassures me that he will be informed the minute he comes in the door. I cling to this thought, as I somehow know that Dr. Fav wants this baby to be born alive and healthy as much as we do. Being the granddaughter of an OB/GYN and the daughter of an OB/GYN nurse, I can tell you that most of them do mourn the losses their patients experience. Then again, from dealing with all the different docs during the last five years, I can also say that Dr. Fav is one in a million and really does care.

Back to my car to get my personal bag. I have a bag filled with work stuff, a personal bag with my calendar and phone numbers, and another bag with various odds and ends. I call home, but realize that at 8:10 a.m., DH is at the bus stop with DS#2. I call his cell, and tell him that I need him to come to the hospital, that everything’s okay, but they want to run some tests in L&D based on his u/s weights. I call my mother back and am more straightforward: "Mom, I need you to come to the hospital now. They want to run more tests." I get weepy for a moment then realize that I am within 100 yards of the hospital with Stick-It still kicking; we have a chance that he’ll be fine. The last call? To my office, of course. M., the part-timer, is the only one in, as E., my counterpart, has taken yet another day off. My boss isn’t coming in today, so it’s just M. and the other Dean. I tell M. that I should be in at some point, but they’re sending me into L&D for more tests, as Stick-It’s weight seems off from the u/s. She wishes me good luck and tells me to call when I know more. I am now in the main door of the hospital.

Into the elevator, and pressing the button for the L&D floor. Open the unsealed envelope containing the two u/s reports. Hey, they're my records, right, so I can review them if I want. Even to my untrained eye, something is not right. Stick-It’s abdominal circumference is smaller, his weight is down (and they’ve circled it on the report from today), and many of his measurements are only days ahead of the previous reports, despite being 14 days apart. Now I get weepy again, and sense the worry rising in my throat. Take a deep breath and wipe my eyes, reassure myself that we’ll both be fine. I report to L&D, and the woman at the desk who I have dealt with so often when checking in for my NSTs thinks I’m there for another NST. I tell her what N. told me, and she calls in. She then hands me my file to bring onto the unit, which I find interesting. I am taken to L&D Room 8, and hooked up for what I think is another NST. Stick-It is moving around as usual and his heart rate is good. My BP and pulse, on the other hand, as at all time highs: 130/73 and 91 respectively. Normal for me is 90/60 and 60. And the parade starts into my room: DH, looking gray and nervous; my mom, smiling, telling me that everything is going to be okay; a variety of medical personnel. One of the other nurses I’ve had before for an NST appears. Having been for 11 previous NSTs, I’ve gotten to meet a number of the nurses. Seeing their faces calms me down. M., another nurse who used to work with my mom pops her head in to say hi.

Then K. appears and introduces herself. She tells me that they’ve reviewed the reports, and Stick-It is scoring 8 out of 8. Passing my NST will make it 10 for 10, and the NST looks good. Then she tells me that Dr. Fav is in, and is clearing his schedule, and that he’ll be over. They’ll be taking me in to be sectioned at 10:30 a.m.

HELLOOOOOOOOO?!?!?!?! No, you must be wrong, because I’m scheduled for next Friday to have this done at 9:00 a.m. I’m not ready NOW! I’m not packed. I’m supposed to be at work. Stick-It is only 36 weeks, 6 days. I don’t even have my damned glasses or my case for my contacts.

Things Bubble Over

Hard to believe it's been two weeks since my last post. My concerns regarding both my boss and DS#1 came to a head the next day. My boss got a ride in with the other Dean from our office suite, who was BS when they finally arrived at 9:30 a.m. It seems, according to his assistant, that my boss had agreed to have him pick her up at 8:30 a.m. However, when he arrived at her house, she wasn't ready, telling him to give her "a few minutes". Twenty minutes later, he was still waiting in his car for her; she didn't even have enough common decency to invite him in to wait for her. Most of the day was spent with her in meetings and giving me a list of stuff she needed immediately. I was able to get her everything she needed, and had had the smarts to phone her at 8:00 a.m. to remind her to bring in her external hard drive so that I could back up my computer files for her. The best part? This backup does not contain any of the forms or files that I personally created and used. Things like the office manual that she demanded I write up, despite that not being part of my job, I removed from those computer files to my personal thumb drive. She has a paper copy, but that's it. I even ended up staying late to back up my system Tuesday (1/29) and removing a bunch of personal computer files from my computer.

Which leads me to DS#1 and everything finally coming to a head with him. I got home late that Tuesday (luckily my Mom and Dad were available, and had picked up DS#2, brought him home, fed them dinner (which DH had already made before going to work), and they had had their baths. My Mom and Dad both commented on how out of sorts DS#1 seemed. When they left, DS#1 came in to talk to me, and ended up in tears, sobbing about a nightmare he'd had the night before that we'd lost this baby, that he didn't want me to have surgery, he didn't want me to have to be away from home for four nights, he was scared that something might happen to me, some kid at school had been teasing him about his "girlfriend", he had just switched to a bunch of new teachers and wasn't sure he would do as well as he'd done the previous two quarters, and so on. I just held him while he cried, trying my best to reassure him that we were doing everything we could to bring this baby home healthy and safe, and that I didn't want to be away from them either but they could call me and come visit me and the new baby every day, and we talked about school and the other kids. He finished having a good cry and went to bed.

I finished folding all the baby clothes I'd washed the day before, and the next morning, before my 7:20 a.m. ultrasound, I put them in the dresser in the baby's room. I also had all my toiletries gathered on the top shelf of our linen closet, and my two old nursing nightgowns, my nursing bras, and my granny panties already in my half packed suitcase. My mother's nagging for me to have my bag packed kept resonating in my head, but I figured I would:
- color my roots Wednesday night,
- finish out the week at work, telling folks know after my OB appointment on Thursday that I was only working three more days,
- DH and the boys and I would finish getting the house ready over the weekend,
- I'd schedule a bikini wax for Saturday,
- the following Thursday my mom, who convinced me NOT to work until the day before my scheduled C-section, would come over and help me finish getting the house ready,
- and finally, on the morning of Friday, February 8th, I would report at 7:00 a.m. for my scheduled 9:00 a.m. C-section.

What's that saying? Oh yeah... "the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry" or something like that, from Robert Burns "To A Mouse". Well, I now know EXACTLY what that means!

36 Weeks, One Biotchy Boss, and Some Inappropriate Comments

Work is increasingly frustrating and unbearable, mostly due to the continued absence of my boss. Yes, having broken her wrist on the 10th of January, she has still not returned to work. Questions regarding who is covering her position as Dean have gone unanswered by the VP's office, as she does some things from home. But between her appointments and the painkillers she's on, it is a hit-or-miss arrangement. Further raising my frustration level is that she has done NOTHING about hiring someone to cover my maternity leave. We have a pile of resumes for a job that was supposed to begin last week, but no direction as to what to do from either her or the VP’s office. Add on top of that that she was to have had surgery last Friday, which they then cancelled as she had a fever, and her return date is unknown. Well, until five minutes ago, when she called me (ooooohhh, FINALLY!). She plans on being in tomorrow, and has a laundry list to go through with me. It will be interesting to see what her attitude is, since she’s been such a wench towards me. The number of people who have commented on her lengthy absence is mounting along with their frustration levels; it was noted by one of my department chairs that I returned to work faster after losing Jimmy (I was induced, delivered him, and was still back to work within a month). Others have been just as ticked off, having suffered broken limbs, cardiac issues, etc., and having returned to work sooner than she. On top of it, she has an EXTREMELY bad habit of, when you are out on sick or vacation leave, of just assuming that she can call you at home. I mean, this woman called my hospital room when I was in LABOR with DS#2 to check on me and then ask two or three questions as to where items were. This time around, I’m not answering the GD phone. Even better, her boss, the VP, is a high-school classmate of my parents. DM has stated that, if my boss does call the house, she will speak with her, reminding her that I’m on leave. The second call that takes place will result in DM calling the VP personally to bitch at him regarding his Dean’s behavior. I can’t wait!

The daily movement of Stick-It brings joy on my part as well as being increasingly uncomfortable. The u/s tech didn't bother measuring size or weight last week, deciding that she didn't need to based on his 92nd percentile placement the week before. I will remind myself Wednesday to demand it, as Dr. Fav has requested it; I'm sure that a medical degree outweighs whatever degree you have to be an u/s tech.

We did bring both boys to last week’s early morning u/s. DS#2, the 8-year-old, was enthralled the minute the tech turned on the sound and you could hear the baby’s heartbeat. The amount of blue goo (u/s gel) distributed across my belly by the tech also was a source of amazement to him. DS#1, the 12-year-old, was more interested in the actual scan, and asked for a few pics to take, as his science teacher offered him extra credit if he brought some in (they will be doing some anatomy & physiology this term, I guess).

After the scan, they were dropped off at their respective schools. That night, DS#1 came into the TV room where I was folding laundry. I could tell something was bugging him, and sure enough, there was. The u/s pics had been the source of attention that day, and DS#1 was talking with a group of his friends. These are kids we go camping with every summer, that are on his indoor soccer team, a close bunch of kids whose parents, particularly the moms, are close to DH and myself as well. It seems that his buddy E., in the midst of this circle, proceeded to say to DS, “Jeez, would you just quit talking about this baby already?!?!” DS, being a sensitive kid, said nothing back, but was obviously upset about it.

My advice was that he approach E. when there was a group around, even if it were after their soccer game the next night, and say something along the lines of “You know, E., about what you said the other day about how I should quit talking about this baby… I don’t think you understand why my whole family is so excited. You don’t know what it’s like to be looking forward to having a baby brother and then to be told that he’s died before you could meet him, or to have to bury him, or watch your parents cry. So if I’m excited and I’m talking about it all the time, that’s not my problem.” I told him that he’d look like the good guy, and at the same time wouldn’t be attacking his friend or telling him to shut up or being argumentative, that all he’d be doing was trying to explain the situation. He told me the next day the kid had backed off, but I still had my concerns.

On top of this, Dr. Fav, at last week’s appointment, indicated that he doesn’t think Stick-It is going to turn. Apparently, there was hope (and room) for him to turn on his own when he was in the frank breech position (head up, butt down, with his knees tucked to his chest and his feet in the air by his head). This last week’s u/s showed that he’s now in the incomplete breech position, which means one of the legs is now down and his foot is by his butt, almost bracing him against turning. He’ll make the final call at this week’s appointment (my 37 wk), but we’re scheduled at this point for a C-section on Friday, February 8th.

We’ve shared this news with the boys, and it seems to have only heightened DS#1’s growing apprehension about this whole situation. He’s gotten very clingy, to the point at which he didn’t want to go to one of his buddy’s houses Saturday night for a sleepover, and he has made a comment to DH along the lines of “nothing good ever happens at that hospital”. He has a point: my DM had breast cancer surgery there, DH had his heart attack there, we learned that Jimmy was stillborn and I delivered him there, a year later I was in the ER having my miscarriage and then two months later my D&C, and my DF, with a bleeding ulcer so severe that we almost lost him, was treated there. I called my GF, the mom of the kid he turned down, back on Saturday night to explain that DS is just getting very apprehensive. She had some great suggestions, as did DH. I think that in the next day or two, I’m going to call E.’s mom, another GF in this group, just to ask that she ask E. to give DS some leeway. I don’t know if it will work, particularly as she’s one of those moms who never admits that her kid does ANYTHING wrong (he’s getting a rep as something of a bully lately) and she’ll probably blow it off, but at least I’ll have had my say.

Keep your germs to yourself

I have a major pet peeve with a coworker who CONSTANTLY lectures everyone in the office about taking vitamin supplements and Airborne to prevent colds, etc., but who ends up being sick the most often out of the three secretaries in the office. What pisses me off is that she won’t stay home when she’s sick. Instead, she comes in, hacking over all of us, and complaining about how lousy she feels. This goes on for a day or two, and then she’ll call in sick the day after she’s had a big date or gone to a concert. Granted, she may be sick, but for God’s sake, stopping breathing on me.

I bring this up because last week she and her boss were both coughing, and she was complaining per usual. And what happened? I caught her cold. 35+ weeks pregnant, a long weekend, so much to do, and all I could accomplish was to lie on the couch, coughing and hacking my way through the weekend. We did manage to get some things done, like rearranging some of the furniture in the house, moving it to new locations, but I still haven’t gotten my bag packed, Christmas totally put away, baby clothes down from the attic and washed, or the bassinet out.

Even more fun is trying to cough with a full bladder while someone is using it as a sitting cushion. TMI, but I have taken to wearing thin maxi-pads as protection against the occasional overflow when coughing. Oh, and I’ve pulled every muscle in my diaphragm and belly, drunk WAY too much decaf Irish tea with honey and milk, and consumed almost a whole bag of cough drops. Of course, based on those lovely medicine charts your OB gives you at the beginning of your pregnancy and the ensuing confirmation call to the OB nurse, all I can take is Sudafed for the congestion, Robitussin (plain) for the cough, Tylenol for the headache that began this morning, and use saline spray. Let me tell you, none of it is really helping. My rice pack has been in the microwave so often I’m afraid it will begin to pop. Other than that, the only thing that helps is a lengthy hot steamy shower with my B&B eucalyptus/spearmint “Relax” candle burning (opening up my nose somewhat), but I can’t stay in the shower all day! So, I did the smart thing: I called my primary care physician per the OB nurse’s orders. Got a fast appointment this morning, and saw Dr. Blondie. She was impressed with how good I looked, said my lungs were clear (which we need for me to have a section!), I was probably on the verge of a sinus infection, and that both ears were definitely infected. She also wanted to give me something to get rid of the post-nasal drip, as it would be VERY PAINFUL to be coughing like this and have a C-section incision to be dealing with, so… one prescription for Zithromax, and I was back to work.

Yes, to work. Not home on the cough, curled up with yet another cup of tea and honey. No, I came to work today as payback, coughing and hacking in the direction of those that gave me this. I sound like a frog. But I don’t have a choice. Any time I have, I am desperately trying to hang on to in order to have some pay coming in during my maternity leave. On top of that, it’s the first day of classes, and very much frowned upon for anyone to be out. Well, that is, apparently, for anyone but my darling boss to be out. She is STILL out with her broken wrist, this being her THIRD week, and according to our discussion on Friday, she only plans on being in ONE day this week.

Today, she hasn’t even called once to check in! So, I’ve just been giving out her home number to all the faculty calling to talk to her. On top of all this, she hasn’t even begun to interview for my replacement while I’m out! God, I’m almost hoping she stays out for another two weeks, and then I can just call in and tell her that, according to Dr. Fav, I’m out of here!

Ultrasounds and Extra Viewers

Julia's post regarding an article about how someone told their son that they were pregnant again after a miscarriage by taking him with them to the first ultrasound struck a note with me. I stand in awe of the folks who after a loss treat their current pregnancy as though they don't have a care in the world, never have a minute's doubt, and truly believe the entire time that everything will be fine. Having lived through both (and only from my experience) would I surmise that it has something to do with how and when they lost the prior pregnancy or pregnancies. I mean, if you lose a pregnancy because of something that you know, like low progesterone, do you worry less when you're being treated for it in the next pregnancy? I know that, even though Stick-It is viable, I can't bring my heart to totally accept that he'll be fine and healthy and I'll finally bring another child home.

Regarding the article, I have never brought a kid to an u/s. It's hard enough having DH there (Mr. Anxiety does nothing to calm me). I show them the pics later. You know, the ones where you look at them thinking “well, Doctor, that inkspot reminds me of a butterfly” while the parent-to-be coos “Look at the whittle nose! Isn’t he the spitting image of his father?!?”

DS#2 has asked to come to one, but it just hasn’t been doable. I’m anxious enough, and what if he were there and …. On top of that, all my u/s are in the middle of the day (up until next week, when they are at 7:20 a.m. for two weeks) and he is in school (hmmm… maybe we can get him to one, but then are we being unfair to DS #1 who has to be at school no later than 7:23 a.m. …). And since I’m so far along AND the u/s techs just LOVE to spread that get ALL over the place, I find my underwear ending up around my knees, and showing my vajayjay to my boys isn’t on my current to-do list.

When I was about 9 weeks along, we did tell them we were expecting, out of sheer necessity. These are not stupid kids, and besides, DS#1 is Mr. Big Ears. Having lived through their dad's heart attack 4 years ago, losing their brother at 28 wks three months later, the pregnancy and miscarriage a year after that (a whole ten days after we had told them we were pregnant, but that the baby might be very sick and not make it), all the early-morning shuffling and drop-offs so I could make the RE for bloodwork & u/s, etc., they knew something was up. We were just very honest that I was pregnant and that I would have a lot of appointments so the docs could do their best to make sure this one was ok.

We did tell them the sex (yes, I'm one of those people who needs to know) by stopping at a bakery and getting 3 gingerbread men (this bakery makes both gingerbread men and women). I laid them out on the table at home, saying "This one is yours, this one is yours, and who do you think this one is for?". At that point, DS#2 responded with glee, “FOR MY NEW BROTHER!!! YEAH, IT’S NOT A GIRL! ALL GIRLS DO IS WHINE AND CRY!!!” We had to quickly tell him that not all girls are like his friend Chloe (the original spoiled girl that we camp with every summer). DS#1 pumped his fist in the air and said “Alright! I win the bets!!!” Turns out he had made ‘some’ quarter bets with friends, him saying it would be a boy, them saying it would be a girl. When questioned further, it turned out he would be collecting from about 20 kids in his class!!!! Great, next year he’ll probably be a bookie taking odds on the local teams from the teachers!

I find it interesting how those with living children prior to a loss have to walk a different tightrope than others, carefully weighing the situation and the decisions against what is best for ALL their children. Any thoughts, folks?

35 Weeks and Counting

I’m apologizing now for how wordy this post is. I wish I could just post like some of you, to the point in one or two succinct paragraphs, but I just don’t write like that, and hey, since I post so infrequently, they may as well cover it all. So, here’s a short version of what’s below:
Stick-It’s a big baby who doesn’t like NSTs; MIL has a health scare and FIL’s being an ass; most likely a C-section to schedule; my bemoaning my never-ending to-do list; travel systems and registries; a new used car just in the nick of time; and the lack of sympathy for my biotchy boss.

Measurements right off the bat. Stick-It hates NSTs. He moves around so much that the monitor won’t trace on a continuing basis, which means I’m spending at least an hour or two every time I have one of these things. His baseline seems to be somewhere between 122 and 132, and his accels usually are in the high 140s/low 150s when he moves. He did have a few decels yesterday between 104 and 117, but was pronounced okay. Yesterday’s u/s, which my mom’s best friend (aka my other mom) came to with me, estimates that he is now 6 lb. 9 oz., up from 5 lb. 11 oz. last week, still in the frank breech position, quickly running out of room, and with a head that’s measuring two weeks ahead (did I ever tell you that DS#2 had a head that was 14¾ inches around AT BIRTH, and was a vaginal delivery?!?!?). Oh, and I had a u/s tech yesterday who was one of the nastiest I have ever had before in my life. One of my big concerns, obviously, is where the Hell is the cord, and when I repeatedly asked, she wouldn’t respond. Same tech waltzed into the room during my u/s last week (being done by a different tech), gave major attitude when asked a question by my tech, and proceeded to leave the door to the exam room open while she was moving supplies in and out of the room, while I lay there, draped, my underwear pulled half off, and my stomach exposed. She pulls this crap next week, and we’re having a “discussion” with her boss.

On top of Stick-its visits, I have the in-laws to contend with. MIL had a scare; her defibrillator battery was totally out of power in the minimum amount of time it’s supposed to last. She went in last Friday to get recharged, which, due to her fragile health, is always a crap shoot. DH and I haven’t privately nicknamed this woman “Lazarus” for nothing. It was obvious something was up, as she’s forgotten that I’m pregnant the last few conversations we’ve had, never mind when I’m due, what we’re having, or what we’re naming him. Then there’s FIL to contend with. He wants me to have this kid on the 11th because that’s his late brother’s birthday; he’s already told DH he’s going to call this kid by his late brother’s nickname – Spike. I’m getting so friggin’ hormonal that I’m about to tell FIL to pound sand. If he had been half as attentive to us when we lost Jimmy (he wouldn’t even get on the phone with DH, and forget them coming home for the service or to support us), I’d might be willing to give some attention to his demands, but at this point, I’m tempted to get nasty and play the measuring-up game on him, you know, the “what you haven’t done that my parents have done” comparison. For all that we’ve been through and all the ways that my parents have supported us versus the way that those two have treated us, there is SO not a contest.

At the office visit today, Dr. Fav is 50/50 in favor of trying an inversion, which I’m really not in favor of, and also is willing to just reserve an OR now for a C-section. I am really hoping that Stick-It turns but I am becoming more resigned to the idea that the only way this one is coming out is surgically. Did I mention that DH was a breech baby, and since this kid is getting named for DH, should I have expected any less? Dr. Fav was also concerned about him being too big to be delivered vaginally if he did turn, so we had a discussion consulted the calendar in the exam room. I nixed the 11th and the 4th (Jimmy’s day) right off the bat. He asked about the 8th, which may be our best option. That way, DH will have a two day weekend that he won’t need to burn time for, the boys would be off from school and could come visit, and Stick It would be delivered at 38 weeks and a day. Even if Stick-It turns, Dr. Fav will most likely induce me then, so it looks like Stick-It only has three more weeks to cook.

On the home front, we didn’t get tons of stuff done this past weekend. We were able to check a few things off my to-do list, but not many. Still need DH to move furniture around and to get the bins of clothes down from the attic. That’s this weekend’s big plan, along with packing my bag the rest of the way and straightening up the house. DM has threatened, I mean offered, to come help me neaten up the house, but I’m putting her off. I just want to do it so I know where stuff is, and DH and the boys need to get off their asses step it up jump to my aid help me this weekend.

We did a car seat which is in fact part of a “travel system”. DH and I are too old and tired to be lugging one of those car seats around so we opted for the travel system. I also spent a lot of time looking on the ‘Net and did online registries at BRU and Tar’get, making it easier when dragging, I mean going with, DH and the boys to make some final decisions. I haven’t done a registry since DS #1 was due 12½ years ago. But we need a pack’n’play, a high chair, and a few minor things, and with our friends, particularly the girls, constantly berating DH about having a shower, this seemed the easiest route. I already have demanded that no one do anything until he arrives, and, despite their protests, they’ve respected that. What really ticked me off was that DH had to repeatedly tell them in no uncertain terms that I would never forgive him or them if they did anything ahead of this baby’s arrival, as putting the baby stuff away the week after we lost Jimmy was something I couldn’t go through again. Some of them just couldn’t get it. Even my DM was getting PO’d with the girls, and I think she said something to one of them. Now that we’ve got registries, they can pick up some of the stuff if they want, and if not, we’ll at least know exactly what we need to grab when they have coupons and sales over the next few months.

We also had to buy a new van this past weekend. Okay, not new, but a used van to replace mine on which the transmission was about to blow. We lucked out as the dealership in town had a 2003 with 69000 miles on it, and they gave us a great deal, taking my 1998 with 120000 and giving us full trade-in value plus a few grand. I’m not too happy about having a new car payment to deal with, particularly with a new arrival and the possibility that I will be looking for a new part-time job, but at least the new van is reliable and won’t be surprising us with major repair bills (we bought the two year/24000 mile warranty).

Oh, and my darling boss broke her arm last week, Wednesday to be exact. She apparently broke the two major wrist bones in her left arm and is now casted up past her elbow. It doesn’t help that she’s left-handed. So she’s not in the office, classes start here at the college next week, and she’s phoning me from home with her to-do list, mind you, while on heavy-duty pain meds. No update if she’ll be in next week. No update at all. And this is the biotch that has nickel-and-dimed my time during this pregnancy, giving me such grief over coming in 15 minutes late in the mornings when I had really bad nausea that I would throw up at summer camp drop-off, even though I was willing to make the time up, that I had to speak with HR and the union about it. So, needless to say, if this woman had been even a bit kind to me during this pregnancy and in the previous few years, I might actually feel sorry for her, but since she’s been the most demanding, unreasonable micro-manager, I have no use left for her. This is a woman (and yes, she has kids) who, when I told her I needed to leave early to go to the doctor to (the day I was panicked about not feeling Stick-It move as much when I was at the point I’d lost Jimmy), her comment was, “Oh, you’ll be fine. You have to be. You don’t know what I went through the last time. I couldn’t even speak, I was so upset. The words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.” DUHHH?!?!?!? What YOU went through when I lost MY child?!?!? Yep, it’s all about her, folks, and that’s all that matters in her world. This is the same woman who told me to take whatever time I needed after I lost Jimmy (after DELIVERING him, mind you), but, oh, do you think you’ll be back in a week or two because the work is really piling up. Same thing after my DH had his heart attack when I was 13 weeks along with Jimmy. Mind you, I was only out for five days when DH had the MI, and 18 workdays (4 weeks) when we lost Jimmy. Well, won’t she be surprised when I, with my union’s backing and standing behind my ratified contract, exercise my right to take as much leave as possible. I’m aiming for (mostly unpaid) 16 weeks’ maternity leave followed by 24 weeks’ parental leave followed by an unpaid leave of absence of at least a year. With DH working second shift, I’m going to look for something part-time in the mornings. Stick-It won’t go to daycare for at least the first year (BIG savings to make up for my loss of income), I’ll be able to schlep the boys to afternoon sports and stuff, and my years of service with the state and my job will be protected under our contract. Oh, yeah, and I won’t have to deal with Her for quite a while. Looks like a win-win for me!

34 Week Update

It must be the hormones. I feel like I just posted an update when in fact it’s been three weeks. Is there an award for Worst Blogging Updater, because if there is, I think I’m in the running?

I am in a very bitchy mood today. I feel huge. I look like I have a regulation basketball under my shirt, and I have six tops and three pairs of pants that I’m rotating through. I spent most of Christmas week lying down on the couch in my nightgown sans bra, because that was how I was most comfortable. That, and we had the stomach flu in the house (yep, even me – Christmas Eve through the day after Christmas, for a 4 ½ pound weight loss!), the cold, and then DS#2 had pneumonia last week. Needless to say, we did nothing but eat Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup and watch TV in our PJs. And now, with the clock ticking, comes the onslaught of appointments.

At my 29 week appointment with Dr. Fav, I asked a bunch of questions, including if he were going to do NSTs, how often would I have ultrasounds, etc. The response at the time was u/s every 14-21 days, no NSTs yet. Next week, different story. Nothing wrong with Stick-It, Dr. Fav just changed his mind. I was informed that I would be having 2 NSTs every week AND an u/s every week AND seeing him every week! From 0 to 60, and wrecking havoc with my schedule, particularly considering that I am still working FT trying to reserve any accrued time to cover the unpaid maternity leave. Oh, and have I mentioned that I have SUCH an understanding boss (NOT)! Luckily the first week of this 4 appointment schedule was the week of Christmas, when my workplace is closed. I also wised up and booked all these appointments through my due date, figuring that its always easier to get the times that work for me and then cancel the appointments rather than hustling every week to cram them in. On the advice of L. (the appointment goddess), I booked my NSTs on Sundays and Wednesdays, eliminating one weekday appointment.

First NST was 4:15 p.m. on Christmas Eve (my DM came with me), next was that Thursday, along with an u/s and doc’s appointment. The NSTs do not go swimmingly, as Stick-It doesn’t seem to like being listened to. Baseline is in the 130s, and he often moves so much that they can’t get a read on him. They’re taking an hour to complete on average. So far, either DH or my mom have been able to be there with me.

The u/s after Christmas did show one surprise: Stick-It is frank breech. That apparently means he’s folded in half with his feet up by his head and he’s aimed butt first. This position apparently guarantees a scheduled C-section. Dr. Fav did mention trying an external inversion, but, because of losing Jimmy to a cord incident, he is reluctant to go that route. DM (a former OB/GYN nurse, and the daughter of an OB/GYN) proceeded to add her two cents after the office visit, as we sat having a cup of tea and waiting for my NST appointment. She’s totally against it in my case. The L&D nurse, who it turns out worked with her for a few years, also added her two cents, advising against it. And since I’m a wuss, I don’t think we’re going to even attempt it. Then my decision was reinforced by seeing one done on some poor woman on TLC. At the same time, I’m a wuss when it comes to surgery, so the C-sec isn’t that appealing either. Stick-It does still have some wiggle room, so I’m hoping he flips between now and 36 ½ weeks (2 ½ weeks to go), which is when we’ll have to start making some decisions. Oh, and the u/s yesterday showed that he’s weighing in at ~ 5 lb. 11 oz. and measuring 34w6d, still a week ahead.

This weekend, I'm pushing DH to finish moving stuff around so that the house is ready, and we're buying a new car seat/travel system thing. DH also needs to get the first two bins down from the attic so I can wash some clothes for this kid, and I'm packing my bag. Other than that, things like painting the room and setting up the crib will have to wait. Honestly, even though he's viable, I just can't face the thought of something happening and having to put all that stuff away again like I did with Jimmy. It will all get done eventually.