Back in ‘01…..back in the day….. I think it was 6 or 7 vials of blood they drew from you at the end of your first trimester. But they’ve since added a few tests, such as one for cystic fibrosis, so nine vials of blood it was. Plus an early test for gestational diabetes. I get to have that test twice this pregnancy, while most women have it done just once around 27 weeks or so. I get to be so lucky because my first child was so large. She still is. She’s not chubby, just ridiculously tall for her age. She will easily be a 6 ft tall woman. My husband happens to hail from the land of the giants as well (6"5), weighing in 10 lbs at birth. His mother told me she was absolutely terrified to have more children due to the pain involved in delivering him vaginally.
Did I mention that I am like a-o-freaking-kay with having another c-section?
In any case, when you’re having 9 vials of blood extracted from you and you’ve been instructed to eat very little that day, while having had to wait an hour after having drank a 6 oz. solution of glucose, and when the world starts to go black at about vial 5 let’s hope to god you have a nurse with a modicum of sensible bedside manner.
Because I didn’t have that nurse. I had two hopelessly retarded nurses who stared at me while I began to faint, with one of them commenting “Oh she’s not looking too good, Ha ha!”
They laughed.
And then the laughter died when they realized I wasn’t joining in. They asked if I was okay. I couldn’t even speak. If I could've I might have said "Of course I'm not f*cking okay! I don't have any BLOOD to be okay WITH!" My eyes were closed. I shook my head no. Then one said “Oh….did she drink the glucose stuff?” At which point they reclined my chair, placed an ice pack on the back of my neck and gave me a minute to come around.
I did come around, proceeded to grab my purse and leave without a word to either of them. Is it not very “grown-up” of me to have seriously wanted to punch these women in the face? Because I don’t know that I care.
Ultimately I don’t have gestational diabetes or any other pregnancy related ailment to speak of……other than the fact that my boobs do not seem to be keeping up with the growth rate of my ass.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
You Can't Go Home Again
My hubby held my hair while I threw up a taco at 8 PM tonight.
Yes, that is indeed love.
The migraines come to call, large and small, daily. So much for being out of the woods. I’m due for a doctor’s appointment before I skip town and I plan to ask “how normal is this?” to which I will hear “every pregnancy is different”, and then they will offer me drugs.
It baffles me that aspirin and ibuprofen are huge no-no’s for pregnant women, but popping a Vicodin or a little Codeine is perfectly okay. No joke! Sadly I’m not in enough pain to allow them to get me and the baby high just yet. I would do almost anything for a goddamned aspirin though.
As for skipping town in a week or so, I get to go home to Seattle for one whole month. As with my trip before, I’m conflicted about it. I’m so lonesome down here, yet I worry I’ll fly up there and be……even lonelier? Never mind how some friends fall away after time, that’s just life. But I’m not a barrel of laughs right now, you know, with the fatigue and the puking and the apparent brain tumors. At best I hope to make it out of my mother’s house once or twice to meet a friend for dinner……. and maybe even enjoy it.
This is my second trimester…. this was supposed to be the EASY part.
Yes, that is indeed love.
The migraines come to call, large and small, daily. So much for being out of the woods. I’m due for a doctor’s appointment before I skip town and I plan to ask “how normal is this?” to which I will hear “every pregnancy is different”, and then they will offer me drugs.
It baffles me that aspirin and ibuprofen are huge no-no’s for pregnant women, but popping a Vicodin or a little Codeine is perfectly okay. No joke! Sadly I’m not in enough pain to allow them to get me and the baby high just yet. I would do almost anything for a goddamned aspirin though.
As for skipping town in a week or so, I get to go home to Seattle for one whole month. As with my trip before, I’m conflicted about it. I’m so lonesome down here, yet I worry I’ll fly up there and be……even lonelier? Never mind how some friends fall away after time, that’s just life. But I’m not a barrel of laughs right now, you know, with the fatigue and the puking and the apparent brain tumors. At best I hope to make it out of my mother’s house once or twice to meet a friend for dinner……. and maybe even enjoy it.
This is my second trimester…. this was supposed to be the EASY part.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Migraines, Dreams & Shamu
It's week 14 and I think.....I think I just might be over the nausea. I'm leery to even acknowledge that aloud for fear I will jinx it. I came home from Seattle in May (wedding was lovely, I delivered my speech flawlessly, all was fab) with a six day migraine that had me vomiting in the evenings.
Every time I explain how ill I've been people start throwing around the "twins" word. As though it weren't a DIRTY word! They like to remind me that I have twins in my family and so does my husband. Whenever this comes up I promptly shut down the conversation. I am NOT, no way in hell, having twins. No. End of discussion.
With all the sleep I'm getting I've been a dreaming machine. Dreams about people I don't know, dreams about people that made no significant impact on my life, dreams about making nice, making love, making cookies and angry dreams. I sleep more than cats do now so I suppose it's my brain's way of staying active while my body further mutates.
But I'm feeling better. I've gained 8 pounds so far. My doctor says this is fine, that I could have gained two more by now. I don't think it looks fine though. While in the OBGYN's office I saw these adorable little pregnant girls (and granted, they may have been in their late teens) with nothing bulbous about them save for their cute round little bellies.
I said to my husband "I want to be cute and pregnant, with just a belly, but that won't be me. I'm gonna be Shamu"
And my husband replied: "If Shamu was a crazy white lady"
Every time I explain how ill I've been people start throwing around the "twins" word. As though it weren't a DIRTY word! They like to remind me that I have twins in my family and so does my husband. Whenever this comes up I promptly shut down the conversation. I am NOT, no way in hell, having twins. No. End of discussion.
With all the sleep I'm getting I've been a dreaming machine. Dreams about people I don't know, dreams about people that made no significant impact on my life, dreams about making nice, making love, making cookies and angry dreams. I sleep more than cats do now so I suppose it's my brain's way of staying active while my body further mutates.
But I'm feeling better. I've gained 8 pounds so far. My doctor says this is fine, that I could have gained two more by now. I don't think it looks fine though. While in the OBGYN's office I saw these adorable little pregnant girls (and granted, they may have been in their late teens) with nothing bulbous about them save for their cute round little bellies.
I said to my husband "I want to be cute and pregnant, with just a belly, but that won't be me. I'm gonna be Shamu"
And my husband replied: "If Shamu was a crazy white lady"
All According to Plan
I heard the baby’s heartbeat today and I actually shed tears…….. tears of joy, of course. I didn't do that with bambino number one, 7 long years ago. I think the difference here is that I KNOW everything that’s coming with that heartbeat now.
Due to the previous cesarean section they won’t even let me attempt to deliver the old fashioned way……..how tragic.
I’d had a scheduled c-section with the first because she was breech. And she was breech because I honestly think she got too fat to turn around, she was nearly 9 lbs at delivery. So they scheduled me for surgery on Christmas Eve and I was actually disappointed that all my delivery and labor classes, and my gorgeous hospital birthing room, would be all for naught. I would miss out on labor. I would miss out on the “birthing experience” and I was sad about that.
Because I was a 24 year old IDIOT!
This time I’ll be having another scheduled c-section. No fuss, no muss, no hours of screaming agony, no episiotomy, no accidental labor pooping, no cord strangulation, no oblong shaped baby head, no after birth and a recovery period that involves lots of Vicodin.
And while they have me open on an operating table I’ve chosen to have a tubule litigation preformed, otherwise known as having your “tubes tied”. All children hereafter will come in furry dog or cat form.
Thus I proudly present to you MY MASTER PLAN to make it through life, having had two children, without ever knowing the pain of labor or obliterating my vagina.
Ha! Take that nature.
Due to the previous cesarean section they won’t even let me attempt to deliver the old fashioned way……..how tragic.
I’d had a scheduled c-section with the first because she was breech. And she was breech because I honestly think she got too fat to turn around, she was nearly 9 lbs at delivery. So they scheduled me for surgery on Christmas Eve and I was actually disappointed that all my delivery and labor classes, and my gorgeous hospital birthing room, would be all for naught. I would miss out on labor. I would miss out on the “birthing experience” and I was sad about that.
Because I was a 24 year old IDIOT!
This time I’ll be having another scheduled c-section. No fuss, no muss, no hours of screaming agony, no episiotomy, no accidental labor pooping, no cord strangulation, no oblong shaped baby head, no after birth and a recovery period that involves lots of Vicodin.
And while they have me open on an operating table I’ve chosen to have a tubule litigation preformed, otherwise known as having your “tubes tied”. All children hereafter will come in furry dog or cat form.
Thus I proudly present to you MY MASTER PLAN to make it through life, having had two children, without ever knowing the pain of labor or obliterating my vagina.
Ha! Take that nature.
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