The Irrationality of Being

I've been stressed lately. I couldn't figure out why. What the hell do I have to be stressed about? I'm on leave from work, I have no real responsibilities to worry about at this point, (save for the normal bills and other facets of daily life that involve money), we're as ready as we can be for the kid to arrive and I can take a nap anytime I damn well please. What's there to be anxious about?

It dawned on me, after several days of really poor sleep and visual migraines, (auras are a bitch, are they not?), that the source of my frustrations was entirely self perpetuated. You see, when I went in for my 37th week check up, I was in early labor. Early labor! I'd been contracting on and off for a few days, and things were starting to happen. It looked like birth was imminent. So much so that my doctor said there was a 50/50 chance that we'd have the baby in the next 7 days. A few days later, things really kicked up and it seemed like active labor was upon us. It's time! Only...it wasn't.

By the time I decided things were "real enough" to start timing, the contractions started to die down. Then they stopped, dead. We went to bed figuring things would pick up again, but they didn't. Over the next few days all the other early labor signs died off too. WTF. False labor? You sonofabitch. I felt let down. I also felt like I let my husband down, and everyone else who was waiting impatiently for me to poop the kid out. It didn't help that, knowing I was so close to my due date, I was getting more and more "when are you having that baby?!" questions from people. It was like I had somehow failed everyone, when really, everything my body was doing was completely normal. 50/50 is no guarantee, and even though I knew that, I took it as such. I allowed myself to get frustrated.

This far along, everything is made more difficult; walking is hard, sitting is uncomfortable, sleeping is a mess, everything aches and you feel incredibly stretched out and tight in your own skin. You just want it to be over, even if you aren't really sure you're ready for it to be. It's just tiring.

When I realized I was doing myself in, I stopped. I may be really over this whole huge belly in the way of every goddamn thing phase, but it is what it is. I stretched, did some yoga, and went to bed. Migraines and frustration and feeling woefully inadequacy for no rational reason at all are hardly good ways to spend ones time.

It worked. I slept pretty well for the first time in awhile. Sure, I still had to get up every 2-3 hours to pee, but when a mass of humanity is resting, head down, on your bladder, such things are to be expected. I woke up today, made a baller ass cup of coffee and decided it would be a good day for leisure and art, something I have been neglecting in the name of accomplishing "things."

This is the last little bit of time as a non parent I have, I might as well enjoy it. Screw the stupid mental games, it's time to relax.

image credit

Existential Mucosa

If I learned anything between high school biology and now, it's that humanity boils down to a big, fat pile of mucus.

When They Finally Come for Me...

A Second Pair of Hands

UPS drops off a huge box. I stare at it realizing I can't move it in on my own.

"Need help?"

"No, it's ok, I've got somebody inside."

UPS man stares at me for a moment, looks at my stomach, looks back at me and stands there puzzled before shrugging and walking off.

It's as if he was waiting for hands to burst forth from my vagina and grab the box. What a story that would have been. 

Of Cooking and Clots

It's been quiet since we got home. No more bleeding, no feeling like the strange life form in m belly is trying to split my ribs apart, just your standard pregnancy pains. There's still the nasty business of passing all the clot, but that's nothing compared to how it feels when your placenta tears itself away from your uterine wall. That's good, because I have no desire to go through all that again.

Clot passing feel like mild menstrual cramps. I'm sure the thought makes all the men reading grimace, but get over it fellas. Women have periods and they involve cramping. Clots can come out in big ole hunks or little bits, it depends on how they're feeling. The difference is obvious though, so seeing it happen is no cause for concern.

The worst part of the recovery is being limited in what I can do. I'm a decently active person (or I was before pregnancy made me feel like all energy had been sucked from my body by some celestial vampire reaching down from the stars to steal whatever life I have for its own use.

I rode my bike until 7.5 months, only stopping because my husband was hit head on by a cab while riding his bike. After that I walked the mile from the train station to work and back. Slow, sure, but exercise is a good thing. Now most of my days are spent feet up on the couch. I realize rest is the best thing for my body right now, but man can it be boring. To keep busy I've been trying to catch up on all those little things I couldn't do while working; paperwork, filing, finishing the artwork for babby's room and even...cooking.

Cooking. That thing I don't do because who has the time for it when they work full time and commute? Or at least, that's what I tell myself. In large part that IS the reason but in the back of my head, I have all these voices telling me that a modern, independent woman shouldn't learn these basic domestic skills because that's falling into the old framework of what it means to be a woman. Nevermind that we all have to eat, and that cooking is a good skill to have regardless; I have to constantly battle with the idea that engaging in such skills is a sign of domesticity and failure, not a desire to eat tasty food. Or even a desire to save some dough. Eating out is easy, but it's pretty damn costly as well. Maybe this whole eating in thing is worth a look, eh? Maybe cooking is far less stressful when you actually have time to do it.

As it turns out, I am find it to be an enjoyable endeavor, at least so far. Without the stress of having to cram in a meal and everything else I might need to get done in the short time between 7:30 and 9, I can be far more relaxed about the idea of taking time to make food. I can even make food I WANT to eat, rather than settling for whatever is in the freezer and takes less than 10 minutes. Who knew such things were even possible?

I'm sure the novelty will eventually wear off, and all I'll want is to have someone cook for me, but in the meantime, I'm going to try and enjoy this.

How I Nearly Had an Emergency C-Section When All I Wanted Was Tea pt 4

Sunday morning. We're exhausted. My poor husband has been with me all weekend, sleeping on a  pull out bed in the room, while nurses flow in and out, checking my contractions, my meds, the baby's heartbeat and anything else they need to. They've given him pillows and blankets to help him be comfortable, but it's a hospital. Sleep is difficult, to say the least.

Sleeping in a hospital room is a lot like sleeping in a hotel, only your bedroom door is constantly being opened so you can be poked and prodded to make sure you're alright. It's loud, it's busy and it's generally not restful. The idea of a full night's sleep in our own bed sounds glorious. The question is, when is that happening? I have my mind set on tonight, but I realize a lot of that is up to how everything is looking.

Admittedly, this is an interesting turn of events. Just the other night I was looking at a C-Section and now, here we are, looking to head home. I'm not bleeding anymore, and haven't been since really early Saturday morning. My contractions, while on going, have settled into more Braxton Hicks type pattern, a huge change from the labor contractions I was having Friday night. I don't even feel them anymore. Haven't for over a day.

This whole deal wasn't supposed to happen. I have no risk factors for placental separation. The attending Doc says these sorts of things are a 1 in 200 chance. They do just happen, but, when they do, they generally only happen once. I still have a clot floating around, and I will need to be very careful, but odds are good the rest of the pregnancy will be uneventful and go full term. I'm cleared to go, and will probably be discharged by 5pm.  WHOO! Modified bed rest is in my future. I can't work, but I can at least get up to use the restroom, get myself some food, and light activity. I can't sit down normally for a bit, lest the pressure on my cervix cause problems. I have to recline. Can't ride in a car too long, but I can make it back and forth to my appointments. In a few day slight walking, around the block, will be fine. Just don't do too much. They don't know what caused the tear in the first place and no one wants to see it happen again.

So that was it, that was my weekend. A simple trip for tea turned into a near C-Section and a weekend stay in the county hospital. The lesson here, kids, is weird things can happen. You need to be ready to act when they do.

I want to say thanks to all the nurses and doctors who helped me through the weekend. I seriously had a great nursing crew. They were patient, answered all my questions and were a pleasure to be around. They were everything I always heard nurses could be and they were great at it to boot. Everyone who was on shift came out to say goodbye when I left. I need to send them all flowers or something, seriously.

I did get my tea too, by the way. A nice tall jasmine lime arrived once I was able to eat real food and drink things again.

How I Nearly Had an Emergency C-Section When All I Wanted Was Tea pt 3

Who puts a damn clock on the wall right across from a hospital bed? That's what I want to know. What savage, deranged mind puts a huge fucking clock on the one wall you HAVE to stare at? In a labor and delivery ward no less. Probably the same jackass that decided it was a good idea to tell a pregnant woman she can't get up to use the restroom.

The long night continues.

Magnesium sulfide is a helluva a drug. You flush intensely warm, like you're on fire, you get a headache, the room swirls a bit and your eyes track slowly as you try to move them. It makes you tired but sleep is hard. It's more like a fevered dream than sleep and it is dreadfully short. Spurts of sleep and wakefulness punctuated by a mouth and lips so dry you'd think you'd kissed the Sahara. But it does its job well, if not achingly slow. It's a muscle relaxant, and a heavy duty one at that. Over the next 24 hours I get to know it well. Too well, in fact. While it surely, but slowly, is stopping my contractions, it's also building up in my system. Other side effects include double vision and barfing. I discover this my second night. I have to close one eye to focus on anything. I spent the whole day doing nothing because I couldn't read, or draw or even watch TV due to seeing double. It's like being drunk but far less pleasant.

Now things are spinning and I feel my lovely ice chip breakfast lunch and dinner coming back to haunt me. Ice chips, how dare you forsake me?! We were so good together! Come back! Wait, no, on second thought, don't. That'd be gross. Just stay down or...nope. Ok. Burn less on the way up next time. How rude.

Maybe we should cut back on the mag, the nurse suggests. You seem petite to me.

All the blank stares in the world could not summarize my feelings upon hearing this. It was hilarious and mind bendingly ridiculous all at once. I'm not even 130 pounds pregnant and I seem "a little petite." I thought about laughing, but wasn't really in a spot to do so. Who wants to barf again? Not I.
 
Since my contractions are on going although far more spaced out, there's some debate about cutting the dose in half. In the end, the nurse wins because I look and feel terrible, and things have calmed down considerably since the night before. Baby is still doing just fine, and it's looking less and less like I will be having surgery and more and more like baby is staying in place for the next 7 weeks. I get my second steroid shot, just in case, but at this point, if the cutting back on the drugs doesn't cause any major issues, we're ingood shape. The hubs and I are hopeful. He sits with me and waits for the side effects of the drugs to calm as my dosage is lowered. Perhaps we can actually go home tomorrow. That would be fantastic.