Think I'm Gonna Sing Myself a Lullaby

Am I really going on 25 weeks?  That feels like a lot.  I am round, though everyone says I look small for this far along.  I am constantly bumping into corners and shutting the bathroom stall door on my belly.

My NEW (and much improved) midwife seems to think everything is going along fine, measurements and heartrate are all within normal.  Weight gain was not as bad as I thought-- I am +13 lbs. for the entire pregnancy so far.  (+18 from my pre-Folli$tim weight-- boo!) I seem to eat ice cream every day now which is probably not a good thing, given that I have yet to do my glucose test.  I am little nervous about that, but am under strict instructions to get it done asap.  I am nervous because like every test I face I am afraid to fail, such a scaredycat am I sometimes...  Oh yeah, ants, spiders, snakes, rats, mountain lions-- I'm FINE with them.  But tests...ulp!  But what if I do badly?  What if I barf all that nasty glucose fluid all over the waiting room?

This morning I made the mistake of listening to an old playlist on my way into work.  Ani DiFranco, Melissa Ferrick... you know the tracks, can probably recite the lyrics.  It made me so nostalgic for the me I was when I was 27 and just out of grad school #3, living with a clique of performance-art and writerly dykes, going to protests and marches, going out to drag king performances and girl bars, making out with anonyomous tattooed girls after the bars closed, drinking coffee blearily on my way to work (which seemed like just an annoying distraction from the main attraction of my life)-- sex, art, politics, and fearless striving for a better world.  I am not nostalgic for the ashtray-in-my-mouth mornings, or for the rumpled companions who would all too often find their ways into my life for a night or a month.  I am not nostalgic for those painful road trips to DC or to the Michigan Wymyn's Music Festival for a week of mildewy tenting, or for the constant stream of overdraft notices in my rented mailbox.  But I am nostalgic for the person I was (or thought myself to be), so unencumbered, so bold, so unafraid. 

These days I am holding myself more precious: there's a BABY inside of me.  Physically and mentally I feel softer than I have ever been, and I am not used to it.  I am used to being full of angles and hard edges and sharp lines.  This blurriness of my own lines is the strangest and not entirely welcome aspect of pregnancy for me.  Not just my body, but my mind.  And the Tired, guys!  I have the Tired like you cannot believe!  Like I used to have to time to go shopping and make cards and do silly things like go to concerts and poetry readings and paint the bathroom just for the hell of it, and now... I am lucky if I make it through my list of must-dos by the end of the day.  I. Trudge.

Don't get me wrong.  I am happy and so looking forward to meeting Speetus (and I just read that an acquaintance of mine gave birth at 29 weeks because of HELLP-- yikes!) And I love my life with Speedy and the Beasts. But man, my youth is GONE, dudes.  Gone.  And Ani-- she has all those fabulous tracks she laid down to document her incredible transitions, and I am so happy that I mapped so much of mine onto her songs, because at least for the space of a subway ride, I can remember it so very well....

Bad partner*

First a big warm, congratulations to Poppy and Cat & Gayby on the arrival of their twins-- and to Love Invents Us for their little Yogi. I am looking forward to hearing more from all of them as their new adventures unfold!

Today I am being a bad partner instead of a bad blogger for once; Speedy is downstairs cleaning out "her side" of our bedroom. The side that I am willfully blind to, the side that I do not have to walk through or near to carry out my daily activities. This is where she practices her hoarding tendencies. Books, papers, pens, defunct electronics, old cell phone chargers, notebooks with two or three scribbled-on pages from god-knows-when, notecards, pictures, post-its with vague scrawls, endless tchotchkes.

She is begging me for help as she has filled three under-bed drawers, a night stand, an entire bookshelf and a corner of our room with this detritus and has finally realized how bad it has gotten. I am refusing to go downstairs until it is done. I believe in tough love. I believe in making the addict face the consequences of their disordered behavior. I also believe I have been a very bad blogger of late.

So here I am. We have had a very productive weekend. We went on a hospital tour of the hospital where I will 80% be delivering. (It's a hospital, which pisses me off, but they are very midwife friendly, my midwife has a long-standing relationship with them, and they have very nice birthing rooms. And never once on the tour did the woman who led it refer to "dad" or "husband", but said "support person" and "partner" throughout. On balance, it seems to be our best bet.) We took care of some long-delayed errands. We found a mastiff (oops) wandering the street and found him a fantastic rescue placement and are confident he will get a good home. We bought a used co-sleeper for $25. We met with a financial adviser. We ate amazing and copious amounts of pie with some fellow ttc-ers from blogland. All in all, a great weekend.

Now at 24+ weeks, I feel Speetus flipping around in a most reassuring way. Usually I never have more than an hour or two before I feel some thumping and bumping, which is fantastic. I told a friend of mine, who is dealing with the terror of a symptom-free first trimester, that I went straight from worrying about losing the baby to worrying about having the baby.

But lately, there has been less terror and more joy at the prospect. Sure, Speedy and I have a lot to figure out about how to manage the day to day reality of taking care of a new person, but the thought of holding, feeding and loving this baby-- or the image I have in my mind of Speedy doing the same-- is pretty heart-melting. Perhaps it is the new-mommy bliss that Figgie and Bao are in the midst of, but somehow I am (almost) convinced that we are going to SO love this change, even with all the challenges it will bring.

And now, proof that things are growing... (24 weeks and 3 days down; 15 weeks and 4 days to go.)

Sorry, Olive-- no bra today (they are all in the wash ;-))

* Or, "Crazy Horny Pregnant Lady", as Speedy has taken to calling me for reasons I am not going to into here (but suffice it to say that Speedy has identified the upside of the pregnancy-related hormonal swings...yes, we had a verrry nice weekend.)  Anyone else find themselves randier than usual?

Belly shots-- Week 18-22

I tried to be consistent in Spain, but I didn't do a very good job. I think somewhere between week 19 & 21 there was definite "poppage." This morning my sometimes dog-walker spontaneously asked me, "So, how are you? Pregnant?" Ya, it might not be much for going-on 23 weeks, but it's definitely preggo.

Scary shit

The level of Bovine Growth Hormone in the milk used for baby formula is causing human infants to grow breasts.
I have heard about this before, but not at this level.  I am an advocate of "what's best for you is best for baby" in terms of breast v. formula, but this would make me carefully look at the sourcing of the formula if I were formula feeding.* 

*So says the one who makes her own dog food because she's scared of commercial pet products.

At long last

So, first a quick update: Thank you for all the feedback last week. I am meeting my new (and hopefully last) midwife tomorrow. I went in for my level 2 scan, part 2, and all checked out fine. Speetus was in a completely different (but equally impossible) position and was stubbornly refusing to move, so it took longer than it should have, but in the end everything checked out fine. I have a stronger and stronger feeling that Speetus is a girl, as does my mother. (This is what she hopes, as she believes it would 'serve me right' to have a girl as wayward and headstrong as I was.)

But who's to say... we'll know for sure soon enough.

In other parental news, my father called me the other night-- an unheard of event-- to tell me that he traced the family history back to a Spanish princess, "so it would be appropriate for Speedy to curtsy to you." LOL! My father! Calling me! And mentioning Speedy! In a not-totally-because-he-couldn't-avoid-it manner! You could have knocked me over. Then he said he was hoping for a boy. Which is fine, because he used the word "hoping"-- or maybe it was "wouldn't mind a" but in any case, again, a not totally negative interaction with my father! Of his creation. I am slightly bowled over and trying not to get too hopeful about having a radically changed relationship with him. He could have been drunk or just lonely since my mother was off on a hiking trip for a few days. (She's 63 and doing multiple-night camping/hiking trips in the White Mountains. How cool is that?)

Finally, I promised pictures of Spain...*

* Also, I long ago promised a dog- and cat-food recipe. The guilt is eating me alive. I promise I will post! I will!!

P.S.  Next up:  Belly pics.  Maybe even tomorrow!

Guys...

I am not a complainer, but when I posed the question in my comments about being left mid-exam with a speculum hanging out of me, I started to realize just how innappropriate yesterday's midwife appointment was.

1. I waited nearly 45 minutes in the waiting room. MW came through twice and smiled benignly at me. She obviously had no inkling of who I was.

2. During the consultation part of the exam, she repeatedly asked what my "hubby" thought of x or y, even though I repeatedly corrected her.

3. She asked if I needed a "refresher" birthing course. When I reminded her that this would be my first, she consulted my chart, then said, "Oh yes, you're right." (Like maybe I had forgotten that small detail of my medical history.)

4. She made many, many telling comments that revealed she had not read my chart at all before seeing me and had no idea what had gone on in previous visits.

5. Last time I saw her, she suspected I had a case of asymptomatic bacterial vaginosis. I reminded her of this (again, not my job) at the consultation, but she forgot to culture me for it during the exam, so I had to go back after I had already checked out at the reception desk to ask her to follow-up with that. Which led to...

6. An impromptu pants-down exam, during which she left me on the table with a speculum hanging out of my hoo-ha (and cranked wide open) while she went off to get some slides and testing agents. Then, she returned and proceeded to prepare the slides on the table between my still-wide-open legs, saying "Don't move for a minute while I do this. You don't mind do you?"

Yes, I very much did, in fact.

My insurance has resolved their issues with the hospital group meaning I could a) go back to my OB or b) look for another midwife at a different practice. At 22 weeks I feel like I am running a little late for all this switching, but can anyone convince me that this appointment was normal?

Does ANYONE in the NYC/Brooklyn area have suggestions for hospitals/birthing centers? Home birth is not supported in NYC, so that is not an option for me. I want a natural birth. I want to spend time with my family and loved ones in the room. I don't want IVs and pitocin and intervention and "this is how we do it." I want to nurse after giving birth and I want the baby in my room. I am still feeling at sea as to how to go about optimizing my chances for all of this...

Back!

Just an short update because I have not yet sorted and downloaded pictures. Spain was fantastic. Barcelona-Sevilla-Granada. Speetus fluttering all the way. I have been CRAZY moody. Cried in Granada because of a lousy hotel room. Cried for an ENTIRE DAY when Speedy snapped at me during a crazy airport connection. I am not a crier in general, so this is notable.

Today was my anatomy scan. Speetus is a stubborn and wayward child already, refusing to get into position for the ultrsonographer. They were able to get some shots of the brain structures using the familiar old dildocam, but they were unable to get a clear shot of the corpus callosum, that bundle of nerves that connects the two hemispheres of the brain. The doctor did say she was pretty sure it was there and normal, but wanted me to come back next week, when Speetus will hopefully be more cooperative for better pictures.

Tomorrow I have a midwife appointment. I have just found out that Aetna resolved their issues with the hospital chain, so this will also give me more midwife options if I decide to keep looking. Right now I don't know what is best. More decisions.

I promise a better update when I get a little more rest and have my pictures sorted...I also have lots of blogs to catch up with, so please bear with me while I slowly get up to speed on your lives!