Bloated Thoughts

It's been a while since my last post, and as I begin to write this I don't have any direction.  I just figure it's best to write something, just to get something out there.  I've been reading a lot about breastfeeding and maybe this blog is like that-- you want to keep expressing the milk to encourage more production.  Maybe just by writing something I'll keep myself from drying up.

It's not that nothing has happened since my last post.  My belly has grown so much, I've gone through a variety of phases-- leg cramps, daily heartburn, seeing a tiny foot or hand rolling around reminiscent of the movie Alien, and this week has been a lot of swollen ankles and feet and hands.  I had two beautiful baby showers, where I thought my heart might explode with gratitude and love for all the support we received from our family and friends.  All baby's grandparents have now felt her kick. 

I had a new kind of Mother's Day this year-- instead of just feeling sad that my mom is no longer around, I had strangers wishing me happy Mother's Day. And it wasn't sad at all. It was the weirdest thing.

We even got another ultra sound! Although in this one there was way less to see since she is running out of room.  (How can she be running out of room in this humongous belly??)  They said she's definitely a girl, she was still moving as best as she could, and even got the hiccups right before our eyes.  (She gets the hiccups at least twice a day).  And of course they measured her and still think she's earlier than July 4-- they predicted June 24th.

We completed our course in Child Birth and Newborn care.  I only felt faint a couple times-- when they talked about tearing.  I'm deciding to believe that hearing about, seeing pictures of and listening to descriptions of tearing will be worse than when it actually happens.  We also saw pictures of circumcision, although I avoided one of them, I don't know why Danny put himself through looking at the slides.

Now we're picking out her first outfit, buying odds and ends and getting our hospital bag ready--I'm hoping she'll come in a month.

We're just generally feeling anxious and excited.  Every pregnancy and labor and birth story is so different, and there's no predicting what ours will be like.  So there's a feeling of leaping into the dark without knowing what's in store for us.  But knowing that it's probably going to be the best thing ever.

I'm cherishing this time, despite some of the very minor discomfort-because so many women have told me they missed being pregnant.  I like going for my morning walk, humming her songs along the way.  I've enjoyed Danny talking to her through my belly, and reading her a story.  I like how strangers smile at me, and children stare at my belly with fear or disgust or wonder.  I passed one little girl and her younger brother on the sidewalk and I heard her tell him, "She's going to have a baby!".  Once when I was waiting for the bus stop a car pulled up and a young girl who was maybe 6 shouted something out at me and pointed to my belly. I just heard the word 'baby'.  The driver may have been her mother-- she was smiling.

But even though I'm enjoying the moment, when people ask me if I'm ready, I'm starting to feel a little closer to answering 'yes'.

Diabetes- another opportunity for Faith and also for Hand Modeling

Last week was one of the more challenging weeks of the pregnancy so far.  The first trimester had some lows- but since then I've had a very enjoyable pregnancy.

Last Monday when I called the doctor's office to see how my results came back for the glucose testing, they put me on hold.  On hold as I was praying, I felt Karate Baby kicking around in there, and it reminded me that this test wasn't to check on her awesome levels-- she's going to be awesome and there's no test that will prove otherwise.  Her awesome levels wouldn't even be able to be measurable.  So I tried to keep this in perspective when they told me that I failed two out of four of the tests for gestational diabetes.  The good news is they said my levels weren't too bad and I can probably control it through nutrition and exercise and may not have to use insulin.  The bad news was that I would have to prick my finger four times a day, and read pamphlets that have the word 'high risk pregnancy' and 'worst case scenario- still birth' and 'baby may be too large to deliver'.  All phrases that would eventually lead me to tears on one occasion.  The day I got the results, I immediately found my friend Trisha who had had gestational diabetes during her pregnancy.  "It's going to be alright, right?" I asked her in tears.  "Yes!" She assured me.  

When I called the nurse/educator that I am working with to figure out what all of this meant for us, I immediately was reassured.  As usual, in times of despair in my life, God sent me someone with a sense of humor.  "Is the worst part pricking my finger?" I asked her.  "You're having a girl, right?"  She asked. "Probably." I said.  "No, the worst part is when she turns 11."  When I met with her in her office, she ran through all the information, which basically turns out to be a lot of food tracking, and zero Cadbury eggs--not even the mini kind.  Then she got to the scariest part-- where I have to think about and look at blood!! The blood sugar testing.  Danny squeezed my leg under the table as she showed me the 'lancets'- a nice way of saying needle.  And the 'strips'- a nice way of saying 'blood sponges'.  He was thinking in that moment that if there was any person on the Earth that should not be doing this it's me-- I'm a wuss about blood. I dont even like to think about it being contained in our bodies,  let alone forcing a drop out of myself four times a day.  But it's going on week two now and I think I can actually handle it.  Isn't that amazing? 

Also, in most cases, women with gestational diabetes no longer have it all once the baby is born.  And the baby will not be born with it either.  So I am planning on eating the best chocolate cake ever in celebration of her birth.  Hopefully grandma Angela will bring me some.  And I mean, literally, as soon as she is out.  Maybe as she's crowning.

The whole thing is still weird.  But luckily every time I've tested myself, my levels are well within normal.  So I'm taking this as another opportunity to have faith-- that all will turn out perfectly in the end.  And I'm accepting the invitation to hope-- that I won't need to take insulin, but just keep eating 6 small meals a day and continue to excercise as I have already been doing.

I am supposed to dispose of my 'medical waste' (the needles and blood sponges) in a very specific way.  that was part of the informational packet I was given.  I am supposed to properly identify as such.  Luckily my office gave us plastic coffee mugs, and I've been using mine as pictured below:

Also, at first I was concerned that all of this finger pricking would hurt my career in hand modeling.  However, as others have pointed out, it's just another opportunity-- to hand model for diabetes testers:

And finally, when I was waiting to meet the nurse to discuss diabetes, I noticed a diabetes pamphlet that had Gina from Martin on it.  And when the nurse was showing me how to work my blood testing monitor, she told me that it's the same model that one of the Jonas brothers used.  So I was inspired to research celebrities who have been down this same finger pricking path:

Of course we all know this dude from the commercials I always mute:




whoever this guy is...he kinda looks like a tool, but I guess we're friends now that we're in the same club..

I believe the following two were mentioned or shown in one of my favorite movies Stepbrothers...





  Selma had the gestational kind like me! And she must be okay because she's doing Burger King commercials now.



Also, I won't go into details over the public blog, but toward the end of the week I had to visit the ER for a painful cyst.  This week is looking promising though.  I have faith it will get even better.

*hand modeling phototography by Camerin Courtney

Glucose Testing Ain't Sweet

Last week I finally put off the glucose testing long enough and went in to do the gestational diabetes screen.  They make you drink this flat orange pop


Well I found out at my Dr. appointment yesterday that I failed the test.  So I had to go in this morning at 8 am and have my blood drawn FOUR times and sit there for THREE WHOLE HOURS!  And I had to fast after dinner last night and not eat during the test.  I thought I would probably be starving or faint after having my blood taken away for hours and not being able to eat.  But it wasn't so.  The hardest part was not snacking last night after dinner.  Out of nowhere the idea of donuts were suddenly attacking me.  Or maybe it was the constant Dunkin Donuts commercials.  In my dreams I was taking the blood test and looking down and seeing food suddenly appear in my hands.  'Why didn't you stop me from eating this feta cheese?? or this bowl of bran flakes??' I'd turn to Danny in horror.  Not eating has never been so hard.

This morning when we got to the lab, a worker was just showing up to open the doors and turn on the lights and there was already a line of senior citizens waiting on a bench to run in and sign in ahead of us.  Turns out there was only one worker at the lab today and maybe 50 people in the three hours I waited.  I prayed, "Jesus, I know it's not as bad as being crucified, so sorry to even ask, but can you  help me get through this? I really hate needles".  The hardest part was a little girl who was three who had to get her blood drawn.  All of us waiting outside heard her screams, "I don't want this!" she was screaming. "Ouchy!".  My eyes were watering and the little one in my belly was squirming as if she had some sort of supernatural connection to the little girl and felt her pain. The second hardest part was the last blood draw which had to come out of my hand. 

But just like most (all?) other crappy things in life, it had an ending.  It's over, I did it! :)

And I am willing to do all this of course, for the new life soon to come.  But if I can please please please not have gestational diabetes.  Please? I don't want to have to stick my finger four times a day.  I don't even feel comfortable watching the commercials where the old people talk about sticking their fingers.  I mute the TV every time they come on!
If I have diabetes I will do this:

Stirring Up the Muck

At different points in my life, the loss of my mom feels glaringly obvious.  It’s like major moments in my life—high school graduation, shows in college, college graduation, moving to Chicago, getting married, going to Israel—seem to stir up the muck on the bottom of my heart.  Because in these moments, I can’t share them with my mom.  If you've lost someone you love that much, or someone who's had such a big part in making you who you are, you can understand. This pregnancy is another one of those times. I can’t tell her the news, or ask her for help, or input, or find out how her labor or pregnancy was with me.  For the most part, this hasn’t haunted me as much as I expected.  And maybe it will.  But lately I’ve had a nagging feeling that the mucky dull pain is starting to get stirred up a little.

My mom lost her own mom early and she used to tell me how much she missed her.  One time she told me her mom's name was Dorothy.  I started laughing, "HaHa!! Like the Wizard of Oz?!?" I bursted out.  But she surprised me with her seriousness and said it wasn't nice to make fun of her mother's name.  Once she began to cry and when I asked her what was wrong she said she missed her mother.  I was only a child- maybe 7 or 8 and didn’t know what to do.  It’s a weird thing to see grownups cry—especially someone as tough as my mom.  Speechless, scared, I just crawled across her bed and hugged her while she cried.  Maybe she found comfort in that.  I hope so, but now that I know how deep the pain goes, sometimes the comfort can't ever reach it.  I remember when I realized that everyone dies, and that she would die someday and I cried and hugged her tight and told her I didn't want her to die.  I don't remember how the conversation went, but I know the fear lingered with me as a child.

When she died I felt surprised at first how much everyone can let you down, no exceptions.  I started to think there were only two beings I could depend on-- myself and God.  Then I realized I let myself down all the time.  So that just leaves the one Being.  But I also started to feel really strong.  Like I could handle anything in the world and nothing could hurt me as bad as I'd already been hurt.  Boys? Fights with girlfriends? Public humiliation? Bring it on. And that was somehow comforting.  Then as my relationship with Danny grew and as this baby begins to grow, that comfort has slowly been slipping away, because I know that the price of loving them this much and so deeply means I could hurt like that again.

But aside from the fear of losing them, there is this fear that I may leave the little one behind the same way I felt left, and my mom felt left.  What if it's a weird cycle that will continue through the generations? This unfortunate dead mom virus.  What if it happens before she even knows me? What if I miss her high school graduation? Or her college shows? Or her wedding?  

I dragged myself to church last week, and of course, the pastors talked about losing their moms.  And it stirred up the muck.  But it also gave me a focal point.  The two readings were from Numbers 21:4-9 and John 3.  Of course I have a love/hate relationship with the bible.  But I loved it this day--because it had this great parallel.  In Numbers, Moses and the Israelites were wandering around trying to get Home and the Israelites were doing their usual thing-- complaining about the food and the scenery, which I can totally relate to.  And then it got worse when poisonous snakes started biting them and killing them.  Moses hangs up this bronze snake and tells them they dont need to be afraid of death if they look at the snake.  Basically, Moses was like, 'Hey, God said to keep your eyes on this snake and you won't die'.  In the John 3 passage Jesus was still trying to get people to not be afraid of death.  So he basically said, 'Keep your eyes on me'.

I know I'm not supposed to be afraid, but it's still a fight to keep it at bay.  The comfort and strength I once felt knowing nothing could hurt me as bad as my mom's death is being replaced with something new-- faith, hope and a delight in the mystery of not knowing what's in store.  I know that even if/when I make it to see my grandchildren, there will be plenty of pain before then--fights with my daughter, or seeing her hurt, or having to tell her that the world has really ugly parts- like poverty, hunger, hate.  I dont know what's going to happen exactly, when I will die, or when the people I love the most will go, one of which is the size of an eggplant.  I'm just trying to keep my eyes on the same Being that has gotten me this far, the same one that got my mom as far as she did, which wasn't far enough, but still pretty good because it got me here.  And the eggplant.  Instead of fear, I aim to believe in the best, but also trust that God will be with me even in the worst.

And eventually the muck will slowly settle back down to the bottom, like an ugly snowglobe.  Only to be stirred up later on at an unexpected moment.  But I've noticed it's stirred up less often as the days go by, and takes less time to settle again.

Weirdo Pregnant Dreams

So I'm about 6 months late, and have missed recording some real gems, but thought I should start a log of some of the weirdo pregnancy dreams I've been having.

3-11-12
I dreamt Julie Jo and I were driving on ice.  She was upset because she'd just driven this same path with her husband but he'd been reckless and the car had slipped on the ice.  But as we were driving I realized we were driving on a frozen lake and asked her if we should be doing that.  As she began to assure me we were fine the car started filling up with ice water.  I calmly rolled down my window and swam out and she followed me.  When we swam out of the icy lake we found ourselves in the woods.  We spotted a park ranger and started telling him what happened.  But suddenly it was very funny and we were acting like Eddie and Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous.  He was really angry, though, that we'd polluted the lake by sinking a car into it.

3-13-12
Last night I dreamt I was at an outdoor John Mayer concert.  It was at this seaworld type park with different  ocean creatures.  One tank had sting rays, piranhas and some other types of fish that could potentially hurt you.  A brave person- I dont remember who- stripped their shirt off and dove in heroically as if proving themselves by swimming with the dangerous fish.  Someone cried out, "But there are Penelopes in there!" (Penelope is the girls name we like, and in this case used as if it were a dangerous species of fish).
Meanwhile, John Mayer was playing this really long guitar solo.  When he was done only a couple people clapped.  I tried to shout 'Woohoo!' but it just came out unenthusiastic and sounded hollow because it was so quiet.  He looked down and sighed.  Into the microphone he said, "I'm so embarssed".

3-26-12
I dreamt the movie My Girl with Macaulay Culkin had a different ending.  In the end Vada finds out that her friend Thomas had been dead all along.  Kind of like sixth sense.  She'd been hanging out with a ghost!

3-27-12
I dreamt I was at the hospital in labor!  But I was really bored.  It was like the contractions were taking forever.  The hospital was a shopping mall and a cafateria.  I was browsing some clothing racks, yawning.  And then at the deli they were serving these giant sandwiches on fluffy chala bread.  yummm

3-28-12
I had another dream I was in labor.  This time, when everyone found out they all brought me bagels.  But when I looked at the calendar I realized i was way too early so I stopped.

4-3-12
Nightmare: I dreamt I was in my old house where I grew up in my parent's room.  My mom was there and I was holding the baby. I was rocking her and everything was great until the baby actually spoke. Her eyes got wide and she was looking at something or someone behind me and shouted 'NO!' as if she was fighting something off.  Then she went limp.  My mom said I should call an ambulance.  The baby wasn't breathing.  I was talking to the 911 dispatch and screaming for them to hurry.  I was trying to do CPR on the baby. And I woke up.

4-5-12
Last night I was on a crowded school bus.  We were all piling on to escape a zombie attack.  I had a video game gun that I was using to shoot the zombies trying to get on.  But the bus was filling up like rush hour bus to work in Chicago.  The bus driver was calling, "Move to the back!" as if it were an ordinary day going to work.  People were filling the aisles, standing.  I could see one person up front who was sick.  I think they were going to change into a zombie.  The bus started to quickly pull away and ran over a couple zombies as it left.

I Give Myself Away

I Give Myself Away

On Sunday I got dressed and went to catch the bus to church.  The cold was attacking me, but I’d timed the bus so I could walk to the stop right in time to only wait a couple minutes.  Except the bus must have been ahead of schedule because when I got to the corner across the street from the stop it was a green light and I saw the bus barreling down toward me.  As a pregnant woman I probably should not have run out in the middle of the street waving my bus pass to get the bus to stop. But I did. Especially since my efforts were wasted and the bus just blew past me, not even slowing down.  I think I actually growled and checked the bus tracker on my phone.  Another ten minutes! Maybe I should just go home, I thought. I pictured myself going home, putting my glorious maternity sweatpants back on, getting under a blanket with Danny, eating lasagna and making fun of an awful movie on TV.  (When I’d left there was an assortment to choose from: a stalker Lifetime movie, National Treasure starring Nicholas Cage, even a movie about the Rock as a nanny!).  But maybe there was something important I could get from church today.  And plus in February I’d missed three weeks in a row, to just do that exact thing.  So I slowly walked down a few blocks to kill time, and waited in the cold for the bus.

When I got to church, they’d already started service.  Trying my best to be invisible, I slunk in a row toward the back. And the choir got up and sang this song (really, you should listen to it):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-j0FwikIM7k

And I was just so grateful that I’d put off the comfort of my pajamas for just a few hours so I could be there in that place at that time. 

“I give myself away. Take my heart, take my life… all my dreams, all my plans, I place them in your hands…my life is not my own, to you I belong. I give myself, I give myself to you.”

Because I’m giving myself over physically right now to house this little baby.  And I’m giving away my fears and doubts (although it’s a daily struggle) to have faith that this pregnancy and delivery and life as a mom are only partially up to me.  The rest is up to the Spirit of Truth and Love and Comfort.  By giving up my fears and doubts, I'm able to allow myself to be used as a vessel to co-create this new life.

It was just a beautiful moment.  I guess you had to be there, in my pregnant woman brain.   

The best part was the baby loved the song.  She kept kicking and maybe dancing.  Although the dance was probably like Elaine’s dancing from Seinfeld.  It was still awesome.

Quiet Down or I'm Calling the Cops

As baby P gets bigger, her kicks and punches are starting to get bigger too.  I used to feel an occasional huge tap, as if something inside me were trying to get out. Most of the time there would be a couple big ones and the rest would be kind of toned down.  Often- and perhaps this is not a coincidence- it's paired with heartburn which gives me the odd feeling that I've swallowed a baby.  But now the big taps are getting more and more frequent.  And she's starting to have favorite times for practicing her karate.  Lately it's every 2-3 hours, but almost always around 2 am.
Two nights ago I woke up wrestling with my new maternity body pillow.  It's this massive weird shaped pillow that curves around my head, and then between my knees for support.  Only instead of supportive, it's kind of out of control.  I'm returning it to Amazon today and getting something more toned down.  Maybe just a rectangular shape...But in the middle of my wrestling I felt a huge commotion in my belly.  It felt impossible that just one baby could be making all that racket.  It felt like she'd invited the neighbors over.  And one of the neighbors was a drummer.  Maybe she was building bunk beds (Stepbrothers movie reference) or maybe her Irish blood was compelling her to practice a jig.  But without looking at the clock I figured, 'It must be 2 am.'  and when I turned my head I saw in the dark the red numbers 2:00 am.  On the dot!  
The karate doesn't hurt.  And because I'm at a stage where there is still room, she's only managed to kick my bladder once.  I actually really like it right now.  At this stage when she wakes up every two hours it doesn't require any diaper changing or even for me to have to open my eyes.  (Other than to look at the clock and confirm her punctuality).
So I kicked my maternity pillow out of bed and let baby P off with just a warning-- time for your friends to go home, I don't want to have to have to call in a disturbance, this is usually a very peaceful neighborhood.