My OB-GYN practice has four doctors. Depending on when my labor progresses for delivery, any of the four doctors who happens to be on call at that time will be the doctor to deliver. So the office policy is for the pregnant patient to meet with 3 of the 4 doctors so we can feel comfortable and familiar with them all. (The fourth doctor is a mysterious man from Poland who they say is never in the office and so I won't meet unless he wins the delivery lotto).
I love my doctor. I've been going to her since I moved to Chicago six years ago. Other than one incident where she decided to bring up the priest molestation scandals arm deep during an exam, I had never had one negative incident with her. But she is scheduled in the mornings, and we've been saving our paid time off of work and going in the afternoons.
Of the two remaining-- one has grown on me-- the other, for the sake of anonymity and respect-- I will call Dr. Poop.
We've had three apointments with Dr. Poop. At first, Danny and I were impressed. She seemed compassionate and thorough, taking measurements that the other doctors hadn't. She didnt seem as rushed or robotic as the other (non favorite) doctor. But at the second apointment we changed our minds. The compassion seemed more like phoniness or condescension, and the thorough measurements hurt. At this time, the other doctors started taking some of the same measurements but when they performed them, they didnt hurt me. Then I started noticing where the other doctor seemed robotic- was really just her being professional. And where she seemed rushed was just being upbeat and enthusiastic.
In Dr. Poop's defense, I could also have some negative psychological associations with her- she's the one who told me initially that I needed to take the second diabetes screening. She's also the one who wouldn't make time to see me when I was in some pain, which turned out to be a cyst which ruptured at home. And she's also the one who has put the most emphasis on my weight. Once she said, "I'm just a liiiiiitle teeny bit concerned with your weight." She held up a finger and a thumb to the size of a delicious Starburst which I wouldnt be able to eat again for the remainder of the pregnancy. She said it the way you'd speak to a child about their behavior. "Well, little Becky, I'm just a liiiiitle teeny bit concerned about you never wearing pants at the dinner table..." I looked down embarassed. "yes, I know." I knew I'd been letting myself eat whatever sounded good. Instead of salads for lunch I was eating big puffy bready sandwiches with melted cheese. I was eating chocolate fudge sundaes at night and ham and cheese omeletes for breakfast.
"So what are you eating?" She asked. I sighed. "I dunno...carbs or something." I just wanted the conversation to end. I'd cut back, I silently vowed, just please dont lecture. "What kind of carbs?" she pressed, transporting us to a courtroom scene in an episode of Law and Order. She was the prosecutor cross examining the defense. I was the young woman about to break her web of lies and confess that yes, she'd been eating gyros and pizzas every Thursday at Michael's bar. "uh.. crackers?" I suggested, my face red. "hmmm.. well, maybe instead of 'crackers' you could eat...broccoli?" She glanced at Danny and shrugged as if to say, "I dont know how else to help this sad case of obesity" She turned to me, "It's crunchy.." She offered as incentive.
So when I scheduled my apointment last week, and switched to a Thursday because of a work meeting, and the receptionist told me it was with Dr. Poop, I didnt want to be rude and obvious and change it as soon as I heard which doctor it would be with. Instead, I thought, maybe she's not as bad as I remember.
But yesterday, Dr. Poop started off on the wrong foot. Every week they have me hooked up to an NST test to monitor the baby's movements. The test measures heartrate and makes sure baby's moving enough and that her heartrate excelerates at the appropriate times. Well, for the first time in probably this whole week, baby sweet Pea decided she wanted to take a nap and only move a few times. So we were hooked up for double the time. In order to stimulate movement Dr. Poop called out to the nurse-- "Get her some water! And some chocolate!" CHOCOLATE??? I perked up excitedly-- Doctor's orders, right?? She glanced at me and remembered,
"oh, wait you have gestational diabetes, right? Nevermind." In my mind I shook my fist at her as she walked away.
The test turned out fine, just had to poke and prod poor baby P for a few minutes to get her to angrily kick her little limbs enough. Then it was on to the examination room.
I was a little nervous that Dr. Poop would be a little rough with the exam, since just measuring my abdomen seemed to hurt with her. And unfortunately I was right. I'll spare you the details but she wasn't quick about it. Instead she was very thoughtful as she lingered and felt around giving me a play by play of texture and detail. Danny theorized she was trying to figure out what type of salad I'd eaten for lunch earlier that day.
When Dr. Secondfavorite reviews my blood sugar scores she always tells me "These look great! Keep doing exactly what you're doing!" Whereas Dr. Poop frowned and bit her lip in contrived worry and said "They're not terrible. ."
"There were two high scores here this week." She continued "It may have been something you ate before bed. Do you eat before bed?" The gestational diabetes diet calls for a bedtime snack.
"Yes, but I've had the same snack every time, it's just cereal." (Cereal that I literally use a measuring cup to carefully dose out).
"What kind of cereal?" And we were back at the Law and Order interrogation.
"Bran flakes." I tried to remain calm and not scream my answers. I've had to go over everything I eat with both a Diabetes educator and a nutritionist.
"What kind of milk?" she asked.
"Unsweetened almond milk, it has no carbs." I said impatiently.
Maybe she sensed my agony because she moved on. "Well, sometimes toward the end of the pregnancy the numbers will go up for no reason. We'll just keep watching it." OHHHHHHH--Should we? I didn't realize this whole time while I've been counting out my wheat thins to dip into my 35 calorie low fat cheese, and staring at blueberry muffins, moving my mouth in pantomime chewing that I should be "watching it". The four times a day I prick my finger and write down the score and scrutinize every strawberry I eat doesn't qualify as "watching it".
"Any questions?" Dr. Poop smiled cheerfully. "No..don't think so.." Danny and I glanced at each other and shrugged. "Are you sure?" Dr. Poop prodded. "Because I feel like you have questions but you're not answering."
"Nope, we're good." I said.
Then Dr. Poop was suddenly filled with concern.
"Are you okay? You seem.....sad...is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired," I said, irritated. She seemed unconvinced but moved on to the ultrasound. I tried to ask questions during the ultra sound so I wouldn't seem so sad, but she didn't seem to want to answer. "What's that?" I pointed at a shadowy blog on the monitor of the ultra sound machine thingy. "Just fluid." she said dismissively. "Okay," I said, giving up.
She seemed to feel bad about not answering in more detail so she focused in on a body part. "Do you see this? Did you know it's a girl?" she said smiling. Looking back, I wished I'd jumped up startled and hurt, "WE WANTED TO BE SURPRISED!" I should have shouted, using all my acting training to squeeze some tears out. But instead we just smiled, and said yes.
"Here, I'll print a picture!" she said excited, and printed a picture of our daughter's genitals. Is that weird to anyone else? (Also weird is that in the picture our daughter's genitals look like a seagull) I'll treasure any picture of our baby, but maybe a facial profile or a hand or foot might be more baby-book-appropriate...
Finally the appointment was complete. On the way out Dr. Poop congratulated me "By the way-- Good job on your weight!" she smiled.
Knowing how hilarious God is, I'm sure Dr. Poop will be the one to show up at labor. In the mean time, I'm scheduling all my appointments-- (which may only be one or two more!!!) with my Dr. Favorite or Dr.Second Favorite.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Things I want to ingest the week of July 4th (post delivery)
Starbucks blueberry scone
Iced coffee sweetened with half and half
Starbucks cookie drink thing
Champagne
Sushi
Chocolate Cake or cupcakes
or any other cakes
Brownie Fudge Sundae
or even just the brownie
Margarita
Sandwich made on Challa Bread
Godiva Chocolate
Rich macaroni and cheese (more than a 1/3 cup serving size)
croissant
fries from The Bagel Restaurant (more than a 1/2 cup serving)
an eclair
soft chewy cookies
gigantic burrito from Chipotle or Tarascas
Friday, May 25, 2012
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'.
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'.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
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
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:
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
Saturday, April 14, 2012
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:
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:
Sunday, March 25, 2012
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.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
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.
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.
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