Stop overloading my lady-brain!

Sigh... I am not even going to get into the whole Sarah Palin GOP VP pick thing, how one woman is apparently just as good as another.

Must... control... self.... AIIIIIIGHHHHHHHHH!

For now,  just enjoy Samantha Bee's report on last Friday's episode of The Daily Show.

Baby equipment overload

I ventured gingerly into Babies R' Us last weekend, to get an overview of what was available and to begin making a list of what we might need and want. 

Yikes.

These stores seem purposely designed to frighten or guilt you into spending WAY more money than I suspect you would ever need to. The sheer number of things -- and varieties of each of those said things -- is astounding.

I mean, there are infant car seats. Infant car seats, detachable from their bases, that double as carriers. Spare bases. Car seat undermats. Extra padding support. Regular car seats. Convertible car seats. Car seats that snap off their bases and attach into a stroller. At least four distinctly different types of stroller. Cribs. Convertible cribs. Cribs with attached changing tables. Separate changing tables. Dresser drawers the double as changing tables. Plain bouncers. Fancy bouncers. Bouncers that bounce themselves. Swings. Swings that swing themselves. Activity mats. Activity seats. Activity centers. Single baby gates. Baby gate systems. Baby gates that can also transform into play yards/baby jails. Ugly padding for every edged surface in your home. Playpens. Bassinets. Rearview mirrors. Nursing footstools. Wipe warmers (seriously!).

And that doesn't even begin to get into the toy section (fun toys, learning toys, teething toys, plastic toys, plush toys, wooden toys, probably-toxic toys) or the baby care section (really? a separate bathtub for a baby?), the diaper pail section (do we really need something that uses expensive proprietary bags?), milk pumping and bottles, or the baby clothes, or the crib linens, or the room decor... 

None of this overwhelmed feeling is alleviated by the baby store employees, who oh-so-helpfully greet you with an enormous packet of carefully designed marketing materials, outlining what is utterly ESSENTIAL to purchase for your new baby if you really love it. If you really love your baby, you apparently need to buy everything I mentioned above and then some.

Could it be that they are trying to guilt and confuse you into emptying your bank account into their coffers? Could it be that they prey on the ignorance and excitement of new parents, suggesting that we buy a whole lot of crap that we don't need?

As my friend Brandie said, all you really need is boobies, diapers, and blankets.

Aquaman is kicking me right now, as if to say "Brandie's right, that's all I need, Mom!"

Kickin' through the skin

Last night, Doc was able to feel our little Aquaman kicking for the first time. Aquaman is the baby's new nickname, by the way. Doc's name means "protector of the sea," so we decided that Aquaman would be a fitting nickname for our little one.

I loved Doc's reaction to the kick. He began to laugh and was obviously just tickled pink. Of course, Aquaman only did it the one time that he could feel it... but it's not like he'll be kicking any LESS in the days to come.

He seems to be most active a few hours after I've eaten (or a few hours before I've eaten, depending on how you look at it). Swimming, walking, or any sort of movement seems to put him to sleep.

I'm getting pretty excited. I've been excited up till now, of course, but it's really been more in a philosophical or theoretical sense. Today, though, I just feel like I can't wait to meet him! Or maybe it's just that I'm doing a better job today at ignoring the sense of fear and inadequacy.

Me & Martini

Photos taken by my husband, the lovely and talented Murdock Scott!

How rude!

Last night I had another encounter with someone who said something quite rude to me about my pregnancy. We had dinner at Gloria's with Brittney and Chris and some of their friends for Chris' birthday; Doc and I held the doors open for everyone as we filed out of the restaurant afterwards. Another couple was right behind everyone so we held the doors open for them too. As the man stepped outside he turned to me and said:

Man: September 14.
Me: What?
Man: September 14.
Me: I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?
Man: Your due date. Is it September 14?
Me: Um, no....
Doc: It's actually December 1.
Man, apparently shocked: Really? Are you carrying twins, then?
Me: NO! I'm not THAT big! (asshole! under my breath)

And that was that, he and his wife/girlfriend walked off down the sidewalk.

Seriously, people: do I look EIGHT months pregnant? Or like I'm carrying twins? All this time I've been thinking I look pretty damn good, perhaps even smaller than the average woman at 6 months pregnant. Maybe I've just been deluding myself.

I guess maybe he prides himself on being able to predict due dates, or something? I'm not sure what would possess a complete stranger to say something like that, otherwise. Maybe he didn't mean to be rude; maybe he was truly surprised he was so far off base (by two and a half MONTHS). Maybe he didn't mean to hurt my feelings.

Still, though, I wish people would THINK before they opened their mouths.

I guess I'm just glad that no strangers have tried to touch my stomach yet. I'm pretty sure that if that happens, I won't be able to be particularly polite about it.

Belly at 23 weeks

It seems like I only get around to taking a photo every other week instead of weekly.

Also: I have ballooned recently, as you can see from the photo below.

Baby Sonata in the Key of Me: First Movement

It's official: I can feel my kiddo moving around inside me!

For about two weeks I have been feeling odd senses of fleeting fluttering in my lower abdomen, kind of like how it feels when a muscle on the surface of your skin twitches uncontrollably, but I was never sure whether it was baby movements, normal intestinal issues, or possibly just muscle twitches. It was so infrequent, too, that I didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

Last night I was sitting in The Comfy Chair watching The Daily Show, and I had my right arm resting on my abdomen... and I felt that odd fluttering sensation again. This time, though, I also felt it on the OUTSIDE, where my arm was resting!

I was startled and put my hand where I'd felt the movement... and there it was again! A definite KICK.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and had a hard time going back to sleep, and the whole time I was lying there I could feel these teeny little movements. I guess he's really active at night, which probably means that as he gets bigger he'll start keeping me up with jabs to the ribs and crap like that. Goodbye, good night's sleep. I've been so tired anyway, lately, that I think that this is probably my new baseline of exhaustion/energy levels for the foreseeable future.

All that being said, though... it's really cool. :) It really makes it much less conceptual that I have a proto-human inside my abdomen. I am really excited for the day that Doc is first able to feel him moving around.

The Katysburg Address

Slightly more than one-half score and seven weeks from now, I will bring forth, on this continent, a new youngster, conceived in love and dedicated to the ideals of fairness, honesty, openmindedness, kindness, generosity, common sense, and good humor.

Now I am engaged in a great gestation process, testing whether I, or any woman so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. I have come to dedicate a portion of my body, known as the uterus, as a temporary resting place for that youngster who is growing by the day so that he may come forth to do good in this world. It seems altogether fitting and proper that I should do this.

But in a larger sense, even though I gestate -- and fully participate -- I cannot anticipate -- what shall occur. This brave little one shall control his own destiny, far above my poor power to nurture. The world will little note nor long remember what I say (unless I'm really lucky), but it is my great hope that my child will help lead us to brighter futures. It is for me to be dedicated to the great task remaining before me -- that from the great sense of love, safety, and compassion his father and I shall provide to him, he resolves that our efforts shall not have been in vain -- that this world shall have a new birth of peace -- and that fairness, honesty, openmindedness, kindness, generosity, common sense, and good humor, shall not perish from the earth.

Belly at 21 weeks

Definitely getting bigger since the last photo was taken. My belly button is getting shallower, too.

Baby photos, 20 weeks

Belly at 19-1/2 weeks

It's getting a little bigger! Just in the past two weeks, it's become obvious. I'm having to use the rubber-band trick on my regular pants now.

one night to be confused

Finally, I am really beginning to "feel" pregnant. Not that the ten straight weeks of nausea didn't remind me every single second of the day, but there's something different now. It's kind of hard to put my finger on it.

As I mentioned a few posts back, I think that my center of gravity has begun to shift and I feel like I walk differently. (Or maybe that's just because I'm not particularly concerned about sucking in my stomach these days, as I normally do!) It seems strange that such a small growth (the baby only weighs about 1/4 pound) could cause noticeable changes in my body, but I think that I am very tuned in to the minutest of differences now.

Also, I finally have that firm stomach I've always wanted! Of course, it's just my uterus pushing out against my abdomen, but still! When I press my belly it feels quite firm now. Again, I'm really only at the start of the "showing" stage but it's kind of thrilling. A few people have told me that it's becoming obvious that I am pregnant.

A lot of my regular pants are becoming a bit snug, especially when I sit down, so I have bought a few pairs of maternity pants. They are infinitely more comfortable!

I don't quite feel connected with my baby, as a person, yet. I know something is in there, I have seen him move on ultrasounds, I have seen a heartbeat and little fingers and toes, but despite all the changes I'm experiencing with my body, the baby still seems largely conceptual at this point. Part of me still worries about miscarriage. I guess at this stage it's probably called stillbirth. Maybe that's holding me back emotionally. I hope that soon I can start to feel more attached, because I wonder if I'm missing out on something important. I feel like every time I listen to music, I should be thinking about my baby hearing it too. I feel like every time I eat something, I should think "there's some nice fruit and protein for you, little baby!" But I don't. Am I selfish? Am I too focused on the physical changes to my body and not thinking enough about the actual baby in there?

I don't know.

Sometimes I'll go for hours at a stretch without even thinking about the pregnancy or the baby. It's like I've forgotten about it. That really really gets to me, because one of my biggest fears in life is that I will forget to take care of something important that is depending on me, with terrible consequences. I have dreams about this kind of thing all the time.

I guess I should mention at this point that we know it is a boy. That was a bit of a shock to us, since all this time we have thought that we wanted a girl. So now we're trying to wrap our brain around that, and come up with names. We had the perfect girl's name picked out, but nothing yet for a boy! Everyone has been offering us suggestions; I guess that people like to come up with baby names or something. I think it will be hard to find something that we really like, but we'll get there. We have a lot of time.

Thoughts on Presbyterian Plano

Before I forget, I want to write down the details of my impressions of the Presbyterian Hospital of Plano's maternity department.

We joined a tour group today to see what the facilities were like and to ask any questions we might have.

Some of the good points:

• They strongly encourage breastfeeding.
  
• You don't ever have to send your baby to the nursery if you don't want to.
  
• All rooms are private; thus, insurance must pay for the private suite since there is no cheaper option.
  
• After delivery, they leave you with the baby for about an hour, so you can bond and begin the breastfeeding process. They they take the baby to the newborn nursery while they move you to a postpartum room; this is where they evaluate him, make sure he can hold his body temperature, bathe him, give him a vitamin K shot (for blood coagulation) and a PK test (I think that's what it's called), and put on a diaper. Then they bring the baby back to you in your new room. Dad can accompany the baby to the newborn nursery.
  
• They suggest that you limit your visitors, especially right after birth and on that first day, since you will be very tired and you need time to bond with your baby. 
  
• They encourage walking around during labor, not necessarily lying down.
  
• Fetal monitoring does not occur all the time; just intermittently (she said maybe 20 minutes each hour)

Some of the things I'm not so sure about:

• The hospital policy does not allow you to eat or drink during labor, but what they don't see won't hurt them.
  
• They do not provide birthing balls or squat bars. It might be possible to bring in your own birthing ball. I do not want to be made to lie flat on my back on a table while in labor and pushing... it seems like my body will tell me what it needs to do at the time, and I don't know that I want to be forced to do something different.
  
• There just seemed to be a LOT of scary medical looking equipment for a process that is so natural... what did women do before hospitals? We had our babies ourselves without help from men in white coats with metal implements (and, of course, had a greatly increased maternal and infant mortality rate; I am aware of some of the upsides to Western medicine).
  

This week I will make an appointment at Baylor and also at the Birthing Center, so we can get some idea of our different options. Pretty soon we'll need to figure out what exactly we want, and write a birth plan.

16 week baby photo

Belly at 17 weeks

You can't really tell too much yet, but here I am at almost 17 weeks pregnant. I cannot believe I am posting a photo of my bare stomach on the interwebs for all the world to see. But, I think I might do this every week just to chart my expansion :)

I don't really look too different from normal. My tummy's always a little chubby, so some of it is just me. Some of it is baby though! I can no longer suck in my stomach much at all. Just doesn't work anymore!

Updates

We got tickets to see Laurie Anderson! She'll be in Dallas in October, performing a new piece called "Homeland," which deals with issues of war and loss of freedom in a post-9/11 America. I'm so excited!! This will be the fifth (I think) time that I've seen her perform; I got to meet her after one of her shows and she signed my program. I was too nervous to even say anything to her! I discovered her music in 1987, when I was but a sophomore in high school. This was, of course, the era of 80s pop and hair metal bands, so being a Laurie Anderson fan was just another mark against me in the high school social strata, but I didn't care.

I'm 16 weeks into this pregnancy and feeling LOADS better. I can eat almost like a normal person these days, although the amounts are still small. I still have a strong aversion to turkey and chicken, and other white meats. I can eat things like beef and sausage in small amounts, but my diet is largely vegetarian now, which I am completely happy with. I am so happy to like food again. I don't think I'm really craving anything. I wonder if I will. I am eating a lot of fruit, especially berries, peaches, and apples. Fruit was one of the only things that was kind to my tummy during my weeks and weeks of nausea. I ate so much applesauce then, though, that I'm not sure I ever want to eat it again!

But, must not eat too much fruit. Must watch sugar intake. I don't think I'm in danger of developing gestational diabetes, but one cannot be too careful.

I have a sonogram scheduled for this week. As far as I know, everything's going well. I don't think it's obvious I'm pregnant yet, but it might appear that I'm getting a tad chubby in the belly. "Katy must really be hitting the snack machine at work a lot!" Not really. My work peeps have been made aware of my "delicate condition" now (I love saying that phrase, it's hilarious), and one very sweet co-worker from down the hall regularly brings me stacks of baby books and magazines that she read during her pregnancy. VERY helpful!

I can still wear almost all of my regular clothes. Last week I bought a Bella Band, a thick and stretchy tube of fabric that you can wear over unbuttoned pants to keep them up, and covers the midriff if your shirt rides too high; it makes it look like you're wearing layers. Since I'm nearly six feet tall, it is hard to find shirts that are long enough to meet the waistband of my pants anyway, so this Bella Band might prove useful even when I'm not pregnant.

I have no idea when I'll need to start shopping for new clothes. Hopefully a lot of my regular clothes are cut in such a way that I can wear them through most of my pregnancy. We'll see how that goes.

I had a couple of minor emotional breakdowns this weekend. It's been awhile and the tears needed to flow, I guess. I cried a lot for "Bertram," which is what we jokingly named our little miscarriage back in January. It still makes me sad sometimes. The rational part of me knows that it wasn't really a baby yet; it was just a lump of cells that didn't get very far. But sometimes I can't help but cry for the lost potential. Doc hates seeing me sad. I think he might be better at putting all of that into perspective than I am. When my emotions get the better of me, I can't even think straight, let alone put anything into perspective.

I'm feeling pretty useless a lot lately. I know I'm doing the difficult work of cooking a baby here, but it doesn't feel like work. It doesn't feel like I'm actually DOING anything. My body's just on autopilot, doing it for me. I don't have to think about the steps, or worry about whether I'm doing it correctly. So it doesn't really feel like work, if that makes sense, and it's hard for me to cut myself a break because it feels like laziness when I do slack off. I think I'm pretty good now at listening to my body, and following its cues, so I'm certainly never doing anything that would put myself or the baby in any sort of danger; but letting other people do things for me that I know damn well I can still do myself, feels like laziness and like I'm taking unfair advantage of the situation.

I'll get over it, I know. There's a lot of big changes I'm trying to adjust to, and I don't always adjust perfectly right away. Like letting Doc carry the 40-pound box of kitty litter up the stairs: I know it was a good idea to let him do it, even though I feel like I can still easily carry it myself, but I was all emotional at the time and got mad. Because I'm feeling so useless. Getting mad was a dumb reaction, I know this now. He's excellent at providing for and protecting me, and his instincts have really kicked in lately. I have resolved to let him do things for me more, even when I know damn well I can still do them myself. There is no sense in both of us feeling useless.

Now that my queasiness has backed off, I'm taking advantage of times when I feel good and have energy, to get little lists of minor things done. Like today I accomplished an impressive array of household chores. I wasn't even really tired today, which is unusual. I've been going to bed early (usually before 11, which is early for me) and getting about 8 hours of sleep most nights. I do get up to pee at least once every night, and often I have insomnia after coming back to bed and it takes me an hour or two to get back to sleep. Annoying, but probably helping to prepare me for the interrupted sleep of a new parent.

And I cooked dinner tonight! A full-on dinner, for the first time in probably three months. I made oven-baked chicken breasts, coated in bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, and spices; green beans sauteed with garlic and yellow tomatoes, garlic bread, and a chocolate zucchini cake. Must get in vegetables any way I can! I couldn't eat the chicken, of course, although I did take a few small bites in order to enjoy the crispy coating. Doc liked the chicken to the point where he said he'd eat the leftover piece that I didn't eat tomorrow for lunch! That's saying a lot, seeing as how there are very few leftovers he'll eat.

I saw the world's ugliest pickup truck today. I couldn't help but notice it as its stereo was rattling my windows at a stoplight. It was black, with a peach hood and roof, and a stripe of purple flames all along both sides. I am pretty sure those color choices were on purpose.

We went to dinner last night with Kathryn and Brett for her birthday. Happy Birthday, Kat! Ziziki's (yummy Mediterranean food) and then to Whole Foods for a delectable selection of desserts from their enormous pastry case. Unfortunately I started feeling icky and couldn't eat my teeny key lime and lemon meringue tarts. They were just as good the second day :) The pastry guy gave us each a loaf of fresh French bread, on the house. It pays to shop at closing time.

It is almost 10 now and I am going to do a bit of yoga before bed. I would like to start going 2-3 times a week again at lunch time. Hopefully they are running classes throughout the summer; I need to check into it this week. I love paying $10 a month for my gym and getting all the yoga classes I want for that price!

So, in closing: Here is an article with some freaking awesome costumes for babies! Some are not so awesome (poop on head "costume," for instance), but this lobster is just the cutest thing in the universe!

Out of left field!

I told a co-worker I was pregnant last week... and got the most bizarre response I can imagine. Read it for yourself and tell me what you think.

First, some background... This woman is a client that I've worked with through my office for years, so we go way back. She's friendly enough, though inhumanly persistent and tries to manipulate you and get what she wants through transparent flattery. I thought we had a reasonably friendly professional relationship. My office hasn't done much work for her in the past several years; perhaps a half dozen projects a year or less.

She e-mailed me last week asking if we could do a project for her "real quick." Of course, the nature of the project was such that there was no "real quick" about it. My boss confirmed that we don't have the time to take it on, so I told her very nicely that unfortunately we just didn't have the time to work on it right now, and I gave her the contact information for a local creative freelance agency we often use.

She e-mailed back and said thank you, but before she called them, was I certain that I didn't want to take the project off-the-clock as a freelance job? I considered that option for about two seconds. Extra money is always nice to have, but I don't really know how to do what she wants done, and I would end up having to charge her double what a freelance agency would likely cost. And the larger issue is that I am not taking on any new outside work; in fact, I plan to phase out the work I do for my regular clients by September, in preparation for having the baby.

So I wrote her back and very nicely declined the job. I told her that I was pregnant and not taking on any new freelance work right now.

And she said... (and this is word-for-word; it's too good not to post in its entirety):

Pregnant? Eight years ago you were convinced that you never wanted kids. I hope this is something you want and that it wasn’t a mistake that will prove a hardship.

Wait, what? Did she really just say that?!

Because I kinda thought that the appropriate response when someone tells you that they are having a baby is "Congratulations," not "Was it a mistake?"

Now, I am under no delusions that anyone else finds my pregnancy as interesting as I do, but why in the world would you bluntly demand that an expectant mother tell you if her pregnancy was an accident that she would end up regretting?? EVEN IF YOU THINK THAT'S THE CASE??

Seriously. Common sense dictates that you start off with something like, "Congratulations!" or "That's great news!", and if the mother then gives you indications that it's maybe the news isn't so great, depending on your level of friendship you MIGHT then be free to ask if anything is amiss.

And we don't even have a friendship!! We simply have a professional relationship. 

The thing is, I was so baffled by what she said that I couldn't even take offense at it! It was just so completely out of left field, so unexpected and strange, that all I could do was laugh! Well, laugh and tell everyone I know about it.

I wasn't even going to dignify that e-mail with a response, but after suggestions from Doc and some other friends that I not let it go, I came up with a carefully worded reply this afternoon that wasn't mean, took the high road, but also subtly let her know that I didn't appreciate her rudeness:

Wow. That’s by far the most unique response I’ve gotten to my good news. I am 15 weeks along and very happy, especially considering that I lost the last pregnancy... so I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a mistake.

Hopefully the Creative Group can help you find a designer to work on the puzzle piece project.

Unfortunately, subtlety didn't seem to do the trick:

Then I’m thrilled for you. Babies and children are wonderful. I just remember that you didn’t want any for a time there and was worried that this was an unwanted accident. I’m sorry about the loss of one pregnancy, but 15 weeks sounds pretty solid.

Please take good care of yourself. Ultimately all the rest of this work stuff doesn’t matter next your health and that of your baby!

So last week the puzzle piece project took priority over my unborn child; now that she knows that I didn't just slip up in my birth control, the baby's all that matters?

I give up!

Change... part two

There are just all kinds of changes going on these days. Like I mentioned in my last post, I am quite excited that Barack Obama won the Democratic nomination. I truly believe that he can bring some much-needed changes to this country. I perceive him as honest, aboveboard, and not afraid to talk straight and tell it like it is. He is an unbelievably eloquent and inspirational speaker. He's taken the high road throughout his campaign and not fallen into the mudslinging traps that so many other politicians do.

He's making history, in so many ways.

So there's that.

Another big change that's going on right now, a little closer to home: We are having a baby! Yes, that is correct, I am pregnant once more. This time seems to be working out better than last time, so far. Right now I am almost 15 weeks, which is a full 3 weeks longer than I made it back in January. My due date is December 1.

There have been all kinds of signs that this pregnancy is working out better than the last one: For instance, I have had some nasty morning sickness that started right around week six and hasn't really let up at all until just this week. Apparently, feeling like you want to throw up constantly is a sign of a good strong pregnancy. Last time around I felt a little queasy around six to eight weeks but then it let up; that doesn't necessarily mean anything but I wonder sometimes if it was a signal that my body had stopped producing the pregnancy hormones.

By the way, "morning sickness" is really a poorly named symptom, since for many women it doesn't only happen in the morning. Mine has been coming and going in waves continually throughout the day. I fell into a pattern for a while where I would feel OK in the morning and have a decent breakfast, but by lunchtime I felt icky, and then by early evening it had transformed into awful.

I lost 12 pounds over the past two months, which normally I'd be ecstatic about but isn't such a good thing when you're pregnant. It's not the end of the world, since the weight loss occurred mainly in the first trimester and during that time, the fetus is so small that it gets all its nutrients from your body. I have put on four pounds from that low, so I'm still down from my starting weight... but I started out a bit on the plump side anyway, so I think I'm doing just fine.

My appetite is slowly returning and I am able to eat more than just a few bites at a time now. I am really looking forward to liking food again!! I hope this trend of feeling better continues. I know some women stay nauseated throughout the whole nine months, so I feel very lucky that mine seems to be letting up a bit. With me, the trick seems to be to eat something whenever I start to feel even the slightest bit odd, which is totally contrary to every instinct I have. It's really difficult to make myself put something in my mouth when I'm feeling nauseated, but it usually helps. So I grit my teeth and just do it.

I had a few complications early on (such as a subchorionic hematoma), and my doctor was monitoring me pretty closely for a while, but everything seems to be going well at the moment. I've had three sonograms so far. The last one was two weeks ago and we saw little hands and fingers and legs. Little Jellybean was squirming around like crazy, doing little silly dances (clearly Doc's genes at work), and the nurse had a hard time getting the measurements she needed because it wouldn't sit still for her. That will teach me to have a sugary breakfast before a sonogram!

We don't know whether it's a boy or a girl yet, but we should know in a few weeks' time.

I think I'm beginning to show. My pants are feeling a bit tight, and my tummy's pooching a little. I'm not sure that anyone besides me can really tell though. My stomach's always poked out a little, so I probably don't look too different. I realized over the weekend, though, that I feel like I'm walking differently now. Like my center of gravity has shifted forward and my back is arching ever so slightly, and it makes me think I'm "waddling" a little. I don't actually mind, though. I don't even mind the prospect of gaining weight. (Of course, I'm trying not to think about the inevitability of LOSING that weight afterwards.... but I plan to breastfeed, and that is supposed to help you lose the baby weight).

I am experiencing many of the not-so-fun things that apparently go along with pregnancy, such as digestive troubles from start to finish (I shall spare you details), extreme tiredness, crying for no reason, peeing all the time (I now get up in the middle of the night at least once to pee), scatterbrained-ness, and round ligament pain, which feels like shooting pains from groin to hip on both sides as the uterine ligaments stretch out to accommodate my new little Baby Hut.

On the plus side, my skin has cleared up and feels smooth and healthy (is that the "pregnancy glow" so many people talk about?), I don't have to lift heavy things anymore or vacuum or mow the grass or clean the catboxes, I have cut waaaay back on my diet soda consumption and it was really easy to do so, sex is even more awesome than it usually is (sorry if that's TMI), I have super-vivid and interesting dreams almost every night, and I think people cut me all kinds of breaks once they find out about my "delicate condition." I'm enjoying it while it lasts!

So anyway, that's what's been going on with us lately. We didn't expect to get pregnant again quite so quickly after the miscarriage, but we are really excited about it -- and it's been hard because we didn't want to get too attached in case I miscarried again. There is still that chance, of course, but I think we both feel more secure about it lately. I hope we'll be good parents. I know Doc will be. I can't wait for him to be a daddy.

my bittersweet symphony

I had a rather tough weekend, emotionally speaking. I think that without realizing it, I spent a great deal of my energy reserves last week trying to act normal at work, telling some of the people I work with about the miscarriage, and talking about it with friends. On Friday I went to yoga class at lunch (which was a little strange, since the last time I went was the day that my body began to miscarry) and did a lighter-than-normal routine. At the end during stretching and meditation, I had the overwhelming urge to cry. So I did, as I was lying there trying to meditate. I figured, well, I guess I need to do this right now, and better here than at the office. On Saturday I had a little breakdown in the evening, and on Sunday I was just generally cranky.

I found a blog, hipmama.com, that occasionally discusses miscarriage. This post, by Laura Moulton, describes her miscarriage in some degree of detail. I wish I could write this eloquently.

[T]here are no neat endings. My pregnancy was a work-in-progress, suddenly interrupted. Miscarriage is unraveling, a coming undone, and though there is a point where things are finished from a biological perspective, there's no telling when the rest of the process ends, or if it ever does. If conceiving a child is a leap of faith, so too are the months that follow. Things can go wrong, but there is also a good chance that they'll go splendidly. In the end, we are left with little choice but to bless the one that got away, wish it safe passage to its next life, and forgive it for leaving us. Then we take a deep breath and start again.

I went to see Dr. Burt yesterday for a followup visit. He gave me the all-clear and said I'm pretty well healed up. I can have sex again now! Woot! :) If Doc and I decide to start trying to get pregnant again, his advice was to wait three months first. We're reserving that topic for private discussion though. But you can bet I'll post about it if and when the time is right.

Yvonne showed me this painting by Frida Kahlo, "Henry Ford Hospital. I love it.



It's been stranger than I thought it would be, trying to adjust back into my normal routine. It's like there's this whole other reality that I have to learn how to integrate, and make a new "normal." And I know it's just going to take a while. And right now I place a lot more importance on these recent events than I will a few months from now. So eventually, normal will be a lot like my previous versions of normal, just with a sad event in my past... one that I'll always look back on with some degree of sadness, but the acuteness of that pain will fade, like all memories of pain. Maybe eventually it'll be bittersweet. That's the best kind of sadness, I think. Bittersweet keeps you sharp, thinking, human.

Having a hard time today

She's convinced she could hold back a glacier
But she couldn't keep Baby alive
Doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere...

--Tori Amos, "Spark"

Husband's two cents

Doc has written his account of the events of two weeks ago. His writing is very sweet and loving and a fair percentage less "squicky" than mine was.

Another woman's experiences

I have been searching the Web for a while tonight, and I have found exactly ONE other blog post on the entirety of the Internets (a series of tubes) (I never get tired of saying that!) where a woman describes in frank and levelheaded detail what her miscarriage was like. One single solitary blog, that is all.

Thank you, tomato.sutra. I really wish I'd found your blog when I was frantically doing Web searches during the early stages of my miscarriage cramps. Our experiences weren't identical, but I really think it would have helped calm me to read what yours was like.

From Paging Lucina:

There were a lot of posts and writings on the 'Net from women who (quite understandably) were terrified about what was going on in their bodies, prior to getting confirmation of their own miscarriages. Also quite understandably, there weren't many follow-up posts that told the greater audience what had happened afterward.

I also found plenty of rather high-level articles and posts from medical or sorta-medical sources. You know the type: they purport to be informative, and some succeed to a degree, but they don't actually reveal much.

I'm not saying that everyone who experiences something private and painful like that needs to publicly write about it in detail, but I can't get over how vague almost all the miscarriage information on the Web is. About the only information you can extract is that it's common, occurring in between 20-50% of pregnancies; it's rarely your fault; you may experience bleeding, menstrual-like cramps, or the passage of clots; and that sadness is normal.

But nobody talks about what actually HAPPENS! I'm sorry if I have sounded like I'm going over and over this point in the past few posts, but it's as if the concrete details of miscarriage are classified information! It's like Scientology: nobody can know the secrets until they belong to the club.

I guess I'm PISSED that I had such terrible physical pain and terrible fright, and that I had no way of knowing in advance that what I was experiencing was serious but normal, that it would require medical intervention but that I was not DYING. And I'm angry that, because we had no information, my poor sweet husband thought he might LOSE ME. I don't ever want him to have to go through anything like that, ever again.

I guess maybe I'm going through the "Anger" phase of grief, hahaha.

Thank you to everyone

Dear everyone,

Doc and I want to send a big public THANK YOU to you: all our friends and family that have sent us well wishes over the past week while we've dealt with the miscarriage, hospital, surgery, and recovery. Thanks so much to everyone that's called or written with kind words, sent flowers, brought over food, kept us company, listened to us talk and cry about things, helped distract us with talk about other, "normal" things. You're really helping to get us through this.

I don't want to be "that guy"... you know, the guy that's always complaining about something, but it honestly feels like it's been a tough week... well, a tough six months really. And I'm trying to look on the positive side of things and not complain too much. My life sure could be a lot worse... a LOT worse. I know that. I have soooo much to be grateful for—and I am. Much as I try to be superhuman, though, I don't think I'm very good at it... and knowing that I have an amazing group of friends and a loving family that will pick me up when I fall... well, you guys are my safety net, and I can't even tell you how comforting it is to know that I HAVE a safety net. I hope I can be a good enough friend to return the favor if ever you should need me.

We love you. Thank you.

The only baby photo

This was the first (and only) ultrasound, taken on December 21. I know that it kind of looks like a face, but it's just the heartbeat.

The Surgery Is Done.

I had the D&C surgery this morning (or, as I like to call it, my appointment with Mr. Hoover). Ha!

Hey, just trying to find humor in all this. It helps me deal with it. I think it might make people uncomfortable that I'm trying to joke about this terrible situation, so soon after it happened. But as my friend Kim said, "Sometimes other people's expectations of how you're supposed to feel are as hard to deal with as how you actually feel." I couldn't have put it any better myself (and am flying high on Vicodin right now so I don't think I could come up with better words no matter how much I tried).

So anyway, I was supposed to be at the hospital at 10:30 a.m. to check in and get prepared for surgery. The phone rang at 7:15 this morning and the nurse asked me if I could come in at 9 instead because my doctor wanted to move it up if possible. I guess it worked better with his schedule that way, and as far as I was concerned, the sooner it was over, the better.

I couldn't have any food or water after midnight, and I sure wish I'd had a big glass of water before bed because I felt soooo thirsty when I woke up. Almost as thirsty as I'd felt in the emergency room last week, but I wasn't supposed to have anything to drink, even water. I started to feel sick to my stomach though, so in order to stave off fainting, I took about two tablespoons of water and figured I'd just deal with the consequences at the hospital.

I was really nervous and feeling nauseated, but did my best to keep it under control as I signed lots and lots of forms at the check-in desk, filled out medical histories, wrote a $1400 check (sigh... damned deductible), got my hospital bracelets, and then they took us back to the pre-op prep room.

I answered more questions about my allergies and told about ten different people that yes, my name and birthday were correct on my bracelet, then went to the bathroom and got into a lovely lovely hospital gown. They also made me wear some really tight white full-leg stockings, apparently to help avoid blood clots, and a pair of those cute blue anti-skid socks like the ones they gave me in the E.R. last week.

A very nice nurse took my blood pressure and pulse, and put in my I.V. This time she gave me a lidocaine injection in the back of my hand so the I.V. wouldn't hurt. They don't take those kinds of measures at the emergency room! The World's Nicest Anaesthesiologist came in to talk to us, to let us know exactly what they were going to do to me and what I could expect during recovery. He asked how I was feeling, and when I told him that I was prone to fainting and motion sickness (on my medical history form) and was currently feeling nauseous, he came back with something to put in my I.V. line that he said would help me feel better.

A few minutes later Dr. Burt came in and greeted us, and talked to Doc for a little bit about how long the surgery would take, where he should wait, and that he'd come out to talk to him as soon as it was over. I was really glad that they were including Doc in everything and treating him so well. I think that they could tell he was concerned and could see how much he loved me and was protecting and taking care of me. I think it makes their job easier when their patients have a good caretaker.

The anaesthesiologist gave me a sedative, I kissed my sweet Doc goodbye, and they wheeled me down the hall. I feel like I went in and out of consciousness during that ride, since I don't remember much of it. We ended up in a large brightly lit room with a lot of random stuff piled all over the place, and a giant flexible light hanging from the ceiling (kind of like the light on a dentist's chair) that they stopped me under. Definitely NOT like an operating theatre like you see on TV. The anaesthesiologist lightly placed an oxygen mask on my face and told me to breathe deeply. I remember taking about six nice breaths, and I guess then they put the general anaesthetic in my IV because the next thing I remember, someone spooned a few ice chips into my mouth and told me to chew. Things went fuzzy for a while after that.

I was definitely having a hard time waking up, as is to be expected. By the time I was lucid enough to realize that I was in the recovery room and that Doc was there with me, he said he'd been with me for 15 minutes already and that I'd been talking to him and the nurses and drinking water. It is very disconcerting to me that I have no idea what happened during that time. He had already called my mom to tell her that I'd come out of surgery just fine, and I asked him to call Kathryn and let her know too. He talked to her for a few minutes and then put the phone up to my ear. I know I talked to her but now I have absolutely no idea what I said. Like I said, I was having a tough time getting my clarity back. He also called Brittney to let her know, but I don't think I talked to her.

Doc told me that Dr. Burt said it was a really good thing that they did the surgery because there was a lot of tissue still in my uterus and it very likely would not have passed on its own. So I guess that made it worth it, right there. He also said that everything went very well and that I would probably feel some bad cramping for a day, and it would die off in less than a week. I am supposed to keep taking my antibiotic and my Vicodin as needed for pain, and take it easy for the rest of the week. I'm not sure if I'll try to go in to work at all; I might just see how I feel on Thursday or Friday but I really don't want to push it. I think they can manage without me if needed.

The anaesthesiologist had told me before surgery that when I woke up I might feel like I needed to pee, but I really wouldn't and the urge would just be the residual effects from the catheter. A catheter?! One more reason to be grateful for general anaesthesia. Of course I DID feel like I needed to pee, and tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes pushed my nurse's call button and asked if I could go try anyway. She walked me to the bathroom, and by god, I urinated. Take THAT, catheter!

I was feeling pretty good by this point, other than the fuzziness in my head, so they told me that I could get dressed if I felt like going home, or I could wait for a while in bed. Doc helped me to slowly get dressed and gather my things, and the nurse wheeled me out front while Doc brought the car around.

He drove me home and helped me change into my pajamas and get set up on the futon bed downstairs. Then he made me some tasty tasty chicken broth, complete with fresh grated carrots and tiny shredded chicken bits, and some crackers that the hospital had sent home with me. He also went across the street to 7-11 and bought me some Coke Zero, since I have decided for the time being that I am going to have as much diet soda as I want while I'm feeling crappy.

So that's pretty much it. I've been taking my painkillers, lying on the futon all day, doing some freelance work, talking to a few people by e-mail and IM, talking to Doc, crying a little bit here and there, laughing some too, and somehow now it's after midnight and I guess I'd probably ought to get to bed.

I'm glad the physical difficulties are (knock on wood) over and that I'm on the path to recovery. Having a concrete end to that part of it is helping me deal with the emotional side of it too. It's been tough at times over the past few days, and I know it's going to continue to be tough on both Doc and myself for a long while, but we have each other to lean on and laugh with and cry with, and I can't think of anything more comforting than to know that he's right here with me through all of this, protecting me and loving me. He's truly an amazing man in so many ways.

One more thing before I go. I read something yesterday that really hit me hard. And it was something that I KNEW already but just hadn't thought about so concretely. I read that the body miscarries because the fetus has just died. And I knew that of course.... but when I applied it to myself, to my own womb, lifting my shirt and looking down at my abdomen and thinking about my own little fetus right there a few inches under my skin, MY baby's little heartbeat stopping and my body going into action to deal with it... Just, wow. I busted out into tears for a long time over that. It stopped being ethereal and got very tangible then.

Sigh.

It doesn't feel like bravery.

A few people have told me that they were surprised that I was able to write in such detail about my miscarriage, only a few hours after it happened. Yvonne said I was brave. I'm not sure that's what it is though.

I kind of surprised myself by writing about it so soon. But I was already starting to forget details, and I really wanted to remember the details. And, I guess, by posting them here, I wanted other people to be able to know what it was really like to go through a miscarriage at almost 12 weeks.

And honestly, writing about it was cathartic. I cried a lot while typing, but I felt a little better afterwards. I don't want to hide what happened.

Before this, I thought that a miscarriage was something that usually happened at home, and was not a big deal physically and was over quickly. And maybe if you're not as far along as I was, that is closer to the truth. I was just so shocked at how physically traumatic it was. I thought I was dying. I have never seen Doc look so frightened. I was bleeding so much and it didn't seem like it was going to stop.

I just wish I'd known ahead of time that miscarriages at this point in a pregnancy are very very scary and painful and you generally end up in the hospital. Even now, Googling "what does a miscarriage feel like" gets you very vague results. Why does nobody talk about this?

I hope that nobody was upset by the detail that I went into. I know it seems very personal — and it is. It's extremely personal, but it's not something I'm ashamed of. I really truly hope that if anyone reads my account of my experience and then, god forbid, has to go through a similar experience, maybe what I've written will help her to not be so frightened and to know that the pain and disorientation and blood loss are normal. An emergency, still... but normal.

The Pea Has Exited The Pod

This is a really long post, so grab a cup of coffee and sit back.

You still with me? Cool.

I haven't been writing a lot of personal stuff on my blog in the past few months, and there is a reason for that. I wasn't quite ready to announce to the world the news that I was pregnant!

It's been pretty hard to keep from writing about it, since it's such huge news and it's hard to think about much of anything else when your whole world, including your own body, is transforming. Although we told our families and close friends, we didn't want the world to know in case something went wrong in that delicate first trimester, when you're beginning to get really excited but still not too attached yet since you can't really FEEL a baby inside you yet...

...But something did go wrong, and I had a miscarriage last night.

Nobody ever talks about miscarriage, other than to say that it happens frequently and it's usually not your fault. But never anywhere did I read what it was actually like to experience one. Knowing in advance what I might expect would have been very helpful. As it happened, the chain of events seemed so incredibly severe and unexpected that I truly thought I was dying. It was one of the most painful and frightening experiences of my life, tempered only by the fact that my amazing wonderful loving husband was by my side the whole time, stroking my hair and whispering love notes and reassurances that everything would be OK, although I think he was very frightened as well and having to keep it together for the both of us. I don't mention him in every single paragraph below, but he was right there the entire time, this force of warmth, calmness, and love that was keeping me from losing my mind.

Just a warning to the squeamish, I am about to go into DETAIL about my experience, and I really mean detail about my private bits and blood and all kinds of stuff. This may be Too Much Information and if you don't want to read about it I won't be insulted. You can skip ahead to near the end where you see the asterisks ***, then it's safe to keep reading. On the other hand, maybe this can help someone out there going through a similar experience.

If you want the short nondetailed version, here it is: I began to bleed badly, went to the ER, passed out a couple of times, spent about nine hours there being tested and observed and, frankly, miscarrying; eventually I went home and then to my regular ob/gyn, who has now scheduled me for surgery on Monday. I feel like crap, but am on drugs, and the emotional impact hasn't hit me yet.

But if you want the long version.... this is what my miscarriage felt like.

Some background: As of this past Monday, January 21, I was 11 weeks pregnant and due August 11. I've been having a lot of the classic pregnancy symptoms, including larger, tender breasts (larger! woot!), mood swings such as crying for no reason every few days, forgetfulness and an inability to focus, extreme exhauastion most of the time, and the need to pee a LOT. Thankfully my morning sickness was very mild, and usually quite easy for me to handle.

On Wednesday afternoon, I started feeling little twinges of what felt like menstrual cramps. I've had little twinges before that simply indicate a growing uterus, and so I didn't put too much thought into it. On Thursday morning the twinges were still with me, and a little more frequent. When I used the bathroom at work I discovered that I was spotting blood a little bit. I freaked out at this and called my doctor, who told me not to worry, that cramping and spotting were fairly normal, but to go home early and rest if I could. I had an appointment the next morning for my 12 week ultrasound, so I tried not to stress out... but I was anyway. I called Doc; I think he was frightened about what might be going on, but he offered to meet me for lunch and seeing him helped me to calm down a lot. I left work at 3 p.m. to go home and lie down.

The cramping began to intensify a bit during the afternoon, and I noticed a little more blood. Around 9 p.m. the cramps were getting quite painful, not letting up even for a few minutes' reprieve, and there was even more blood. Doc and I tried to watch a movie on DVD and I was curled up around my heating pad with Doc rubbing my back and stroking my hair, trying to calm down and ignore the cramps, but I couldn't concentrate and kept getting up to pee and see if the bleeding had subsided yet.

At 11:00 as I was using the toilet, it was like somebody turned on a faucet inside me and the blood began flowing out nonstop -- fresh red blood. By this point the cramping was almost too much to handle. Holding my panic in check by sheer force of will, I called Doc into the bathroom and we decided that I needed to go to the emergency room immediately. The amount of blood was scary. We didn't have any pads (since I started using the Diva Cup I don't buy them anymore) so he grabbed me a towel. I got up, shoved the towel between my legs and went to my closet for sneakers. Every time I moved it felt like a warm gush came out of me. Doc ran around locking doors and gathering his phone and coat and my purse, and helped me downstairs and out into the car (the Saturn; I didn't want to bleed all over the brand new Prius!!). I was wearing old paint-covered sweatpants and sneakers (breaking two of my personal cardinal rules: sneakers are only for exercising and sweatpants do not leave the house) and my hair was a mess and I forgot my phone and my coat but I didn't care.

I was in such pain on the car ride over but trying to be calm and hold my panic in check. Doc was driving and I did not want to give him any acute reasons to worry; I needed him to get me safely and quickly to the ER. My legs started shaking uncontrollably in the car, but I kept smiling and saying that I was OK, not to worry, just keep driving. The truth was, I WAS worried, but not that much. I figured that once I got to the ER, it would be like on the TV show "Scrubs": A cute intern would whisk me away on a stretcher and take a look up the old VaJayJay (or was it "bajingo"?), do a little procedure or something, and send me on my merry way home.

Not so.

Doc pulled into the emergency room driveway, hopped out and ran inside to get someone to come get me out of the car since I was sure if I stood up that a river would pour out down my legs. A nurse came out with a wheelchair, and she and Doc helped me out of the car and wheeled me inside. I think that the valet guy took Doc's car key and drove our car off to the parking lot. Don't ask me why the ER only has valet parking, maybe because of all the nutty construction going on at the hospital, but it came in handy for us.

I filled out a small form at the checkin desk giving my name, SS#, vital statistics, and reason why I was there. There were a LOT of people in the ER waiting room and they told me that it might be a little while before anyone could see me. I thought, ok, I am BLEEDING profusely out my VAGINA, should someone not see me NOW before I die from blood loss in the waiting room?? Nobody but the two of us seemed concerned though, so I sat tight in my wheelchair hoping that they would hurry the fuck up because I was in severe pain. I asked Doc to get me some water; I suddenly felt extremely thirsty, but the paramedics said that I couldn't have anything before they measured my vital signs. Which apparently might have been hours away, from how things were going so far.

They probably should have let me have some water because a few minutes later I began to see spots. I felt like the whole world was floating away from me, and I remember saying to Doc "I am going to pass out now." From a distance, I felt myself slump off to the side towards him and everything went dark. The next thing I knew, it felt like I was waking up from a long, wonderful dream, until the reality slowly hit me that I was indeed in a wheelchair in the ER, that THAT was not part of my dream. I was being wheeled along a corridor and someone had ahold of my shoulders to keep me from falling forward. People were saying my name. I was having a hard time responding. I don't know if I was actually saying anything out loud or making any sense if I was. Doc said that I had passed out in the waiting room and began convulsing. He yelled for help and THAT prompted the ER people into action. I guess I was only out for about 15-20 seconds but it was enough to push me up to the top of the list.

They got me into an exam room and onto the table, and people in scrubs were buzzing all around me, putting IV lines in and taking blood samples, hooking me up to a heart monitor (interesting tidbit: the little sticky pads they apply to your chest are made by 3M, the post-it-note people!), blood pressure cuff, and a little clamp on my finger to keep track of my pulse. I felt like I was in a complete fog, not sure what was going on but in serious serious pain, and people I didn't know were doing strange things to me and I couldn't see Doc. They'd sent him out of the room for a few minutes while they got me all hooked up to the monitors, but I asked 3 or 4 times where he was, that I needed him, and so a few minutes later they brought him back in. It was such a relief to see him; immediately I felt calmer and more grounded.

I'm already starting to forget the sequence of events that occurred over the next couple of hours, probably because I was in that weird foggy haze. Doc was by my side through all of it, whispering that he loved me, holding my hand, calming me down. I was very worried that I was dying, bleeding internally and they wouldn't be able to stop it.

I found it awfully strange that no one wanted to get a peek at the area in question; the nurses initially pulled my sweatshirt off and got me into a hospital gown, but left my blood-soaked sweatpants on. I remember my abdomen just convulsing in pain nonstop, and my entire body shaking uncontrollably again. I think that someone threw some blankets over me, hot out of the blanket heater (did you know hospitals keep blankets heated? I didn't! I remember telling a nurse that now I knew why my cats liked to hop in a basket of laundry freshly pulled from the dryer), but despite the warmth I could not stop the shaking. I remember at one point raising my head up and actually looking at my body, and the movements were so violent that it must have looked like I was having convulsions again. I tried to calm myself down and stop shaking but I simply couldn't.

I remember whispering crazy nonsensical things over and over, like "stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it" and "calm down calm down calm down" -- which actually aren't too crazy, but the repetition must have seemed a little crazy. I know I was saying other things too, that made a whole lot less sense. And the nutty part of all this was, I was completely conscious of the fact that I wasn't making any sense, that I was probably acting like an insane person, and yet I had no ability to control it.

After what seemed like hours of being completely out of my head and waiting, shivering, shaking, whispering, cramping, making "ouch goddamit motherfuck that hurts" faces, a doctor finally came in to see me. The nurses got my pants off, put some fresh absorbent pads under me (actually this was probably the third or fourth time they'd replaced them), and the doctor took a look at my business. His conclusion? "Oh yes, she's definitely bleeding." Wow, Sherlock, ya think?! He was in the room for probably a total of 90 seconds before he ordered a sonogram and left.

The crazy shaking continued but began to abate somewhat, and maybe 15 minutes later a nurse came in with an injection of some wonderful wonderful medication into my IV line. A minute or two later I stopped shivering and began to feel wonderfully light and floaty but at the same time very very heavy, like all my limbs weighed a ton.

They turned out most of the lights in the room and left us alone for a while before the sonogram was ready. A woman came in with a clipboard and had Doc fill out some paperwork for insurance. He asked me questions about various things on the forms and I remember trying to speak very clearly out of my pain medication floaty haze. Things seemed really funny for some reason and I think I was talking veeery slowly.

We were both exhausted — he hadn't slept much the night before either — but nobody left us alone long enough to drift off to sleep for a bit. Nurses came in every few minutes to check my vitals or change my padding, which was getting thoroughly soaked by warm trickles of blood every few minutes. I remember at one point telling the main nurse, I think her name was Jennifer, that she was SO nice and I really appreciated everything and she was making me feel so much better. I think I was kind of high from the pain meds but the sentiment was heartfelt.

I asked Doc to go get her before the sonogram was ready, because I had to pee. There was a little pink bedpan waiting in one corner so I figured that was probably my fate (thank god my fate didn't lie with a catheter; another nurse had poked her head into our room a while earlier asking if I was the one who needed the catheter! I said "Good god, I hope not," and she laughed and left).

Nurse Jennifer asked if I wanted to use the bedpan or the bathroom. I had a choice!! Hallelujah! I asked to be wheeled out to the bathroom in the hallway, although I think that Doc would rather I have kept to my bed and just used the bedpan instead. But I'd been stripped and poked and prodded, my bloody bits seen by god only knows how many people already, and I wanted to preserve this one little modicum of modesty. I remember laughing at one point as I was lying on my side, as I said to Nurse Jennifer "I cannot believe I am lying here mostly naked, door open to the hallway, with a nurse washing my butt with a towel. All sense of modesty is gone!"

Nurse Jennifer handed me the world's largest maxipad (really and truly, it was ENORMOUS), a pair of blue socks with nonskid soles, and a pair of stretchy mesh disposable undies to pull on over the giant diaper. She wheeled me into the bathroom and thankfully did not insist on staying with me as I went. As I was going, eight or ten large chunks of tissue and blood came out of me too. I guess this was all the uterine material that I was finally expelling. It was kind of gross but also fascinating at the same time. And I instantly felt better; the cramping that the pain meds hadn't taken care of began to die off.

Another nurse wheeled me back to my room, and as I passsed the nurses' station I told Nurse Jennifer that I thought I'd expelled it all. She asked me if I flushed, which I thought was a very weird question — of course I'd flushed, I'd just gone to the bathroom! It didn't occur to me until later that they might have wanted to collect the expelled material for testing. A gross thought, actually.

A few minutes later they came and got me for the sonogram. This time they didn't put me in the wheelchair; they just rolled my bed down the hallways to the radiology lab. Just like in "Scrubs!" I finally got wheeled down a hallway on a bed! The sonogram went quickly; the nurse was young and businesslike and very very fast. She did both the jelly-on-the-belly kind (the first I've had like that) and the internal kind, then wheeled me back to the room. By this time it was 3:30 in the morning and we realized that we probably wouldn't get much sleep before we had to go to Dr. Burt's office at 9:30.

The doctor came in about 2o minutes later with the sonogram results (a nice suprise for two reasons; one, they told us it might be up to an hour before the results were ready, and two, this was a different doctor, a woman who was very very nice and seemed like she actually cared about what was going on with me, unlike businesslike Dr. Butterfield from before.) Dr. Way said that the sonogram showed that it was an incomplete miscarriage, meaning that there was still some material in the uterus to be expelled. I would need to watch for that and follow up with my own doctor within the next 48 hours. She went out to write a prescription for some pain medications for me and collect up my discharge information.

I asked Nurse Jennifer if I could go pee again, and this time she gave me a pair of gigantic cotton underpants (really, they were size 14, and I wear size 8!) and a pair of gray sweatpants so I wouldn't have to wear my old ones home. I expelled a little more of the uterine material again, and again felt a lot better afterwards. I wasn't bleeding profusely now.

I got back to the room and they brought in the discharge paperwork, took out my IV line and taped me up, got me into the wheelchair, and Doc put my old pants and towel, shoes, and purse on my lap. They wheeled us out to the payment area, and I sat right outside the door while Doc sat right inside the door talking to the nurse and paying the co-pay. I started feeling absolutely awful -- nauseated, lightheaded, and the severe cramps came back. I began to see spots again. I tapped on the door frame and said "Doc, I'm passing out again. Here I go." I slumped forward to try to get some blood to my head, but to no avail. I felt my arms go limp and then nothing.

I woke up — again, as if from a very long, wonderful dream — to hear Doc saying my name trying to wake me up as they wheeled me back down the corridor towards a room. I couldn't say anything, I felt sick to my stomach and dry heaved most of the way to the room. He looked so scared; I don't think I have ever seen him look that frightened in his life. He was so pale. I didn't want to get out of the wheelchair because I was bent over and it felt like if I straightened up I would faint again.

The nurse was about to put an IV line into the back of my hand, when I realized I really would rather by lying down. She and Doc got me up onto the table, got me hooked into the IV (it hurts a lot more in the hand than it does in the elbow), and hooked back up to the heart monitor and everything else. They took some more blood to check my counts. I was really cold and starting to shake again so they brought me some blankets. Dr. Way came back again to see me and said "Didn't quite make it out the door, did you?" and told me she had a call in to the OB/GYN on call for advice.

She came back a while later and said that the OB/GYN wasn't being as helpful as she hoped, and they wanted to keep me for a few more hours for observation. If I passed out again then they were going to admit me to the hospital. She turned out the lights and left us alone for a while (well, nurses were coming in every so often to check up on me), but Doc and I were able to get maybe 30 minutes of uninterupted sleep before yet another doctor came to wake me up, and told me that he wanted to see if I could get up and walk around.

A nurse came in and unhooked me and slowly I got up and walked the corridor. It was tough but I tried really hard to ignore my nausea and stave off the lightheadedness. I was desperate to get out of the hospital and home. I really did feel a lot better than the last time they tried to discharge me. Yet another doctor came by to remove my IV port from my hand and he brought me and Doc back to the discharge area. I did not pass out this time. We did not have to pay another co-pay; Doc's theory is that it's because they didn't want it to seem like they discharged me before they should have. Which is fine with me!

He went and got the car from the valet and helped me into it, and we headed home. He got me settled in bed and went out to the drugstore to get me some giant absorbent pads, Motrin, and some apple juice. When Dr. Burt's office opened at 8:30, I called to see what they wanted me to do, and they said that I definitely needed to come in as scheduled. With Doc's help I took a shower and got dressed (in my fancy Presbyterian sweatpants again!) and we headed up to Presby Plano.

I began crying for the first time since this started when I asked the doctor if he knew what might have caused it. He said that almost all first trimester miscarriages are due to chromosomal abnormalities; the fetus is simply not viable. I asked if it was anything I might have done, and began to cry. He said absolutely not, nothing like caffeine or exercise could have caused it, and that all women struggle with the guilt of this question even when rationally they know the truth.

Doc described my fainting episodes to him, and he said that it was due to the abdominal contractions. When the belly cramps up like that, it signals the heart to slow way down and blood pressure plummets, triggering fainting. I'm not sure quite why this happens, it sure doesn't seem like an evolutionary advantage.

We told him that we'd been told it was an incomplete miscarriage but that I'd passed some tissue after that diagnosis. He sent me in for a sonogram, which showed that there was still some tissue left (RPOC, or "retained products of conception"). He took a look inside me with the speculum and was able to pull out what he thought was that remaining tissue (NOT a pleasant procedure; it's like that little *cramp* you get during a pap smear when the tester touches your cervix, but a lot worse and a lot longer in duration), then sent me back for a second sonogram. Unfortunately it showed that he didn't get that tissue.

He said at this point we had three options. We could wait for it to pass naturally, although it may not actually expel itself, in which case I'd be at high risk for a very serious infection; we could get me in for a D&C surgery right away, which involves putting me under anaesthesia and manually cleaning out the uterus; or the middle ground, which would be to wait a few days and see if it passes on its own, and if not, schedule me for surgery. We decided on option #3. So I'm scheduled for surgery Monday at 11:45 a.m., unless something happens in the meantime. I really hope it does because I do not want to have that surgery done.

*** OKAY, the yucky part is over. If you've skipped ahead, you can start reading againg! ***

Dr. Burt didn't charge me a co-pay for today's visit, which I think was really very nice of them. Maybe it's a matter of policy not to burden people who have just had a miscarriage with a bunch of paperwork. Fantastic policy! It was a relief just to get to go home. I called my boss on the way home and told him what had happened and that I wouldn't be in for a few days at least. I broke down on the phone with him and I was trying so desperately not to. The one person I wanted to be calm on the phone with, I just couldn't.

We went to Target to fill my prescription for Vicodin for pain, and for Doc to pick up some quick-fix groceries for the next few days, and FINALLY we got home. My wonderful wonderful husband, who has had maybe 3 hours of sleep in the past 48, then went back out AGAIN and got me a grilled cheese sandwich and Dr. Pepper from Sonic. I didn't feel like eating but can't take Vicodin on an empty stomach, so I sucked it up and ate what I could.

We've each managed to sleep for a couple of hours this afternoon, and we've told a few people what's happened. I don't think I can talk to anyone in person about it right now, it's just too hard and I know I'll break down. Maybe in a few days.

Right now we're resting in bed and watching Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. I'm eating a few leftover roasted potatoes from last night with my evening Vicodin, and Doc is having a chicken salad sandwich.

I guess that I can have a glass of wine this week if I want! Ha. One good thing about all this.

We don't know what exactly we're going to do once this is all over. We need to think about whether we want to try again. I know it's not even a question for some couples, but it's more of a complex issue with us. There's a lot of things we're going to need to talk about. I'm so glad our marriage is rock solid. I feel like this situation has pulled us even closer together. I still feel numb emotionally, although I've cried a few times today. I think that the full impact just hasn't hit me yet. I'm sure once I see tangible things like the maternity clothes I've started to collect or the tiny socks that Mom Kerry got us for Christmas or the little stuffed animals from Brittney, it's going to feel a lot more real. There were so many things that we had begun to think about and do in preparation that I think are going to startle me when I come across them and realize that maybe we just don't need to do them anymore.

As Doc said earlier today, this sucks donkey ovaries. But we'll get through it.

Little feet-feet, little toes

I met Zoe yesterday. She is incredibly tiny. Tiny little fingers, fingernails, teeny ears, super soft hair. She's six pounds right now, a little less than when she was born. Nate explained that it is normal for babies to initially lose a little weight before they start gaining. I held her for about 20 minutes, sound asleep in a little pink baby burrito wrapper. She began wiggling, then scrunched up her face and turned bright red, crying. She was hungry, so Yvonne fed her for the next 30 minutes or so. Right now she mostly eats, sleeps when she's not eating, and sometimes is just awake and alert. She eats every 2-3 hours, so Yvonne's not getting a whole lot of sleep. Her mom is there helping her and Nate for a few weeks.

Last night our electricity went out about 12:30 a.m. The whole neighborhood was dark, and a white pickup truck was parked in front of our house with someone inside. A power company truck? But there was no logo of any kind on it. Periodically we'd hear the passenger door either open or shut, but when we looked out we never saw anyone. The electricity came back on about 20 minutes later, and later another pickup truck pulled up by the first one. A man and a woman got out, walked over to the first truck, opened the doors, and then walked back to their own truck and drove off.

Doc went outside with a flashlight to check out the situation, and while he was walking around, they came back with gallon jugs of liquid and a siphon. I was very worried that he was outside with these possibly nefarious strangers, especially since I couldn't see what they were doing from the bedroom window. I had the phone in my hand and 911 punched in, just waiting to hit the TALK button. Doc walked right past them and into our house, and a few minutes later, they took off.

The electricity went out at least three more times in the night; for some reason I woke up each time it happened. I guess I didn't get very good sleep. We never did figure out what was going on.

Zoe Dutchover Stull

Welcome to the world, Zoe! Your parents are pretty awesome people. You might find that their friends are a little odd, but don't hold it against them :) I'm looking forward to meeting you.

Will we finish?

That is the big question right now. It's 8:13 p.m., our 5-minute short film is due no later than midnight, and due to tape failure we had to reshoot the second half of our film at 5:30 p.m. We've got a decent rough cut, but still have to add a few cutaway shots, the music, the titles, and a special effect scene.

Our motto for this year is "Failure Is An Option." We almost decided to just shoot ourselves hanging out at the house, drinking wine, explaining what went wrong, and tacking it on to the end of the movie. Instead we did lightning-speed retakes of of eleven shots, and are hoping for a miracle.

Wish us luck!



Also: CONGRATULATIONS NATE AND YVONNE!!! Little Baby Stull (she's yet to be named) was born at 8:20 this morning. Both parents are ecstatic and exhausted. Way to go, Yvonne!!!